#ONCE AGAIN I HAVE MADE A FIC ALMOST TWICE THE LENGTH IT WAS MEANT TO BE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chocoenvy · 2 years

Note

ok but like

imagine a sagau au where the reader isn't recognized by the acolytes

but they aren't being hunted down by them either

and in this au looking like the creator isn't a sin it just warrants a "damn must be truly blessed by the creator to be blessed with their face"

and the reader just kinda wants to see how long it takes for everyone to realize

also venti is the first to know and the reader literally begs him not to tell anyone

and they both just kinda

vibe as gods in disguise

Say My Name

In where you begin your journey in a fairly dull way, but that doesn't make it any less exciting.

Part two

Characters: Barbara, Noelle, Venti

Notes: Once again, I have made Venti a prominent character in a fic. I have grown far too attatched to him :( AND I WANTED TO MAKE THIS MORE ABOUT NOELLE BUT I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH ROOM BECAUSE VENTI'S FAT ASS TOOK UP ALL OF IT. And I didn't want to shove something in at the end, I thought it was a good stopping point so I didn't stretch the fic on longer than it needed to go. Anyways this was fun to write either way :)

warnings: fluff, cult behaviors, comical

Considering how extravagant and lively Teyvat is, your arrival was fairly dull.

You were freaking out of course, your heart beating out of your chest and breathing erratic. What were you supposed to do when you wake up in your favorite game? What was the right course of action?

Frankly, you thought you were dead or about to die. Teyvat is crawling with high level monsters. Maybe this was all a big fever dream?

You sighed, clutching your head, so many thoughts whirling around and yet none of them stayed long enough for you to get a good grasp of the situation or the best course of action.

But one thought remained consistent as your eyes drifted over to the path laid out before you. Mondstadt.

The moment you lay your eyes on the bridge leading to the Mondstadt gates you can't help yourself, running past Timmie's birds, shouting out a quick sorry to him, and sprinting as fast as you could to the gates. You slowed as you neared them and Lawrence - the gate guard - stopped you in your tracks.

"Greetings strange but respectable traveler!" He saluted, his eyes wide staring at you and you assumed it's because of the odd way you dressed, "May I ask what business you have in Mondstadt?"

"Oh! Just visiting." You grinned, feeling a tad bit dizzy at hearing his voice right in front of you and not just through your headphones. Not to mention the fact that his hair looked so real and nice.

He hummed and nodded, "Alright then, just don't cause any trouble." He waved you off.

That was easy... you mused. Though you didn't dwell on it and marveled at the wonderous city adorned with the high-noon sun and pretty flowers.

You could hear the humming of bards and birds, the sound of Flora selling her flowers, and of course Donna simping over Diluc.

It was all so familiar, from the people to the music and the tiles on the floor, it all felt like the beginning of your journey. Almost like home, you couldn't help but hum along to the merry music.

You passed by Katheryne and she waved at you knowingly but didn't say anything. You decided not to question her about it - Katheryne knew a lot of things anyways so you decided this was pretty in-character for her - and you waved back with a grin.

You wandered meaninglessly through the calming streets, still humming the tune. You came upon the fountain in the plaza and paused. Usually, you'd climb up the wall to get past but now you had to actually walk.

You chuckled, you weren't sure why but this was such a nice feeling and you sprinted to the left until you came upon a set of stairs. You climbed up them and made your way to Venti's large statue.

When you made it, you craned your neck up to take it all in, an awed smile on your face.

"Ah, are you a newcomer?" A nearby nun asked you, snapping you out of your dazed state.

"Oh! Uh- yeah I am!" You grinned sheepishly.

The nun hummed, smiling warmly, "You must be truly blessed to look so similar to our creator. You can go into the cathedral if you want to see our offerings to them." She nodded towards said building, "Hope you enjoy your stay in Mondstadt!" She waved, now even allowing you to get a word out before moving along.

You stared after her for a minute before whispering to yourself, "What the fuck-"

You turned back around and stared cautiously at the cathedral. What did she mean by creator? Stuff like this has never been mentioned in the lore before...

You'd been in the cathedral maybe a hundred times and had never seen anything that could be attributed to some... creator or whatever she meant by that.

So, naturally, you had to go and investigate.

The moment you entered those cathedral doors (with no loading screen separating the two anymore), your eyes immediately caught onto the shrine built on top of the rotating door. Two pairs of stairs leading up to it.

You gaped at the shrine, grand and well-kept, but what caught even more of your attention was the sheer amount of offerings left out at the base below the shrine. There was so much food and random shiny objects, some of which looked more than what you were worth.

Your jaw hang open at the sight, and you noticed you started to get some odd stares. You fixed your face and donned a more neutral expression, looking on at the shrine curiously.

"Ah, first time in Mondstadt's cathedral?" said a soft and familiar voice.

You whipped your head around to face Barbara, her sparkling eyes fixed onto you.

You composed yourself - both at the scene in front of you and the fact you just met Barbara face-to-face - "Yeah, it is."

"You look so much like our beloved creator!" She exclaimed, "It must be such an honor to be blessed with their lovely face!"

"U-uhm..." You stuttered, sending her an awkward smile, "I suppose so."

Her eyes shifted and you felt a jolt of unease in your chest, sinking into your heart, "Sorry, I'm just not used to Mondstadt's customs. We practice things quite differently where I'm from."

"Oh! Sorry then," Barbara frowned, "I didn't mean any disrespect, I just wanted to make sure you weren't disrespecting our creator in any ways. I suppose in the end it didn't do any good."

You hummed non-committedly and gazed back upon the shrine. There was a statue of the supposed creator upon there and unconsciously you took steps towards it. As you gazed up at it, it was as though you were looking into a mirror.

The statue was an exact replica of you, in every way shape and form it was you.

"It truly is remarkable how alike you two are," Barbara smiled up at the statue, pure devotion in her eyes, "It was an honor to look upon you and see an image that so wonderously reflects our creator's." She smiled at you.

You nodded and she left with a wave. A few moments later you left the church.

The problems in this perfect world arose when your stomach started to growl and you realized...

You had no mora.

"Goddamnit I'm having a Zhongli moment," You cursed the gods (specifically Venti and Zhongli) for not giving you mora when you arrived to Teyvat.

Although you didn't have to worry about that for long, oddly enough. When you were eyeing Good Hunters, a kind little lady approached you.

"E-excuse me," Her cute voice cracked and your eyes met with Noelle's, "Are you hungry? I could um-" Her eyes diverted away from yours but always seemed to come back to stare into your eyes, "I could make you something if you so wish."

You gasped, your face lighting up in a smile that reddened Noelle's cheeks, "Really? Oh! I'd love to try some of your Tea Break Pancakes- oh! Ah, nevermind. You don't have to." You waved her offer off, "I don't even have any mora on me."

"That's fine." She grinned, "Consider it... a gift to our creator. A celebration of how much you look like them."

"Ah," You couldn't help the surprised smile that tugged up at the corners of your lips, "That's- I mean I appreciate it but I'm sure there's much better uses you could use with your time-"

"Nonsense! I insist," Her resolve was as sturdy as the sword you'd given her, "A little treat of mine."

"I-" Your stomach interrupted any argument you were going to make, "Fine..." You sighed, "But I owe you okay? If you ever need anything just ask me."

She agreed and made you the meal, which you excitedly watched her make. It was so surreal watching Noelle make the pancakes instead of just pressing a couple buttons.

Even still she made those pancakes in record time, you were impressed.

"Thank you so much Noelle! Really, you're carrying Mondstadt on your shoulders." You giggled.

Her face flushed a bright red and she waved her hands dismissively, "Oh no no no, I don't do that much. I'm... not even a knight yet." She frowned.

"Well," You said in-between bites, "You do as much if not more than the knights do. Don't put yourself down just 'cause you're not official yet."

Your smile, a replica of the ones on the statue but brighter and more personal caused Noelle to feel nearly dizzy.

"You're far too kind... Oh! Dear, where are my manners?" She huffed, "What's your name?"

"Oh! It's (Name)." You held out your hand but she didn't take it immediately.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowed in confusion, "Isn't that... the creator's name? Did your parents name you that?"

Your mind blanked. Why the hell does this creator person have my face and my name?

You chuckled, "They did."

Noelle hummed and nodded along, "It's a bit unusual but not like it's against the law or anything," She shrugged and took your hand, "It's nice to meet you (name). I'm Noelle, though it seems you already knew that..?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I've heard of you. You're the best maid in Mondstadt. Who knows, maybe the best maid in all of Teyvat." You chuckled as her face bloomed into color once more.

"Truly, you flatter me too much," She fanned her face in an attempt to get rid of the heat, "...have you really heard of me outside of Mondstadt."

Without hesitation, you nodded while biting into the pancake, "Of course!" You technically weren't lying. You'd heard of her outside of Mondstadt... and outside of Teyvat... in your world. So it was technically true.

She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes lit up in wonder, and a soft giggle escaped her throat, "Aha, I'm so happy..."

Without thinking, you reached over and patted her head. She had stars in her eyes. "I'm glad," You said, "You deserve it."

You and Noelle had talked throughout the entire day. She had often went to go and help people and you tried your best to help her as well. Finding stray cats, helping children find lost items or getting them down from high places, collecting and delivering items for people.

You did your best to nudge Noelle away from accepting every little thing that came her way, but majority of the time she'd end up helping the person. So you settled for helping lessen her load by helping her complete the tasks instead.

When night time finally rolled around Noelle finally bid you good night and you were hesitant to leave her because...

You had nowhere to stay.

The dark Mondstadt streets, only lit up by the few streetlights still lit by candles and night owls still awake inside their houses creeped you out.

Where would you stay? You couldn't stay outside for too long, it was freezing and you only had the clothes on your back.

Maybe you could sneak into Angel's Share and sleep in the rafters? That way you'd stay warm and they were open 24/7 you believed.

Maybe you should just tell someone you got transported here from another world. That's what the Traveler did and now they're a renowned hero with a teapot to live in...

Teapot... Teapot! If you could find the Teapot...

"Shit! Where did I last set it down..." You scrounged through your memory, praying it wasn't in the inventory. You had no clue how to access that or if you even could access it.

You recalled... teleporting to Windrise to grab some crystalflies and heal up... and opening up your teapot. That's where it is then. Or at least you hoped.

Even if it wasn't there, sleeping in the big Windrise tree didn't sound like a bad idea. So long as you didn't freeze to death.

With that in mind you set out to begin your walk to Windrise, sending a wave to Katheryne as you left. She wished you good luck which made your heart swell. Her eyes always seemed to know too much... but in this case it was quite comforting.

You also waved goodbye to the guards outside Mondstadt's gate, and they saluted with kind smiles.

You hummed, tiredly making your way across the bridge once more. What a lovely day in Mondstadt, you mused to yourself, humming the quiet nighttime tune.

Your legs were jelly by the time you made it to Windrise, silently thanking the gods that you weren't attacked on the way there. Tiredly, you looked around the statue and the tree for any sign of your teapot and...

nothing. Absolutely nothing.

With a groan, you sat down at the base of the statue, burying your head in your hands, too tired to hold your head up on your own.

You just needed to shut your eyes for a moment...

You blinked your eyes open as the sun glared at you. Squinting up, you noticed you were now laying at the base of the statue.

You paused as a melody filled your ears, close by and unfamiliar. You turned your head to see a bard - your bard - playing the lyre and humming a tune.

"Ah, you're finally awake." He grinned, "What were you doing sleeping outside by the statue?"

You groggily sat up, "Venti?" You groaned, "I was just... traveling and ended up falling asleep."

He hummed, "You know my name?"

Goddamnit-

You nodded, "Yes, you're quite the famous bard aren't you?" The excuse flew naturally off your tongue, it wasn't necessarily a lie either.

Venti giggled, his fingers idly plucking a tune, "Quite the charmer aren't you? Though, can't say you're entirely incorrect. I am the best bard in the world! Most famous though? I can't really say." He leaned in, his face nearly touching yours, "So, how do you know me hm? You just arrived to Mondstadt yesterday after all and I don't believe you ever caught my name or even saw me."

"...You were watching me?" You questioned, your eyes narrowed.

Venti faked an offended gasp, "You make me sound like a criminal! I was merely observing my surroundings. I saw you, an odd looking traveler, and had to observe you for a bit of time. Can't blame me for being a little curious." His grin was sly and it made you roll your eyes.

"Still a bit creepy if you ask me, especially for an apparently not-so-famous bard." You challenged him, your eyes sharp as they dug into him.

He shrugged, "I gotta watch over Mondstadt. I love the city with my life, you know. Now answer the question, how do you know me?" His eyes were so playful for such a scathing question.

You hummed, surprisingly calm given how wrong this could go, "How do you think I know you, bard?"

He giggled, "Asking me the questions now are you?" His fingers switched up and started playing a much more familiar tune. One he shouldn't know, "Perhaps you've been watching me for a long time now. And whenever I saw your eyes I just knew they were the same ones that had been watching me for countless months. Hm?"

Your eyes shot open, "How do you know that song?"

"I know every song," His teal eyes sparkled with mischief and glee, "Past present and future."

Your jaw slackened, but you couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips.

"I suppose I wasn't aware of just how far your knowledge reached, O' Anemo Archon." You snickered, and jokingly bowed.

Venti giggled, his fingers stopping his playing so he could mockingly bow back, "And I suppose I wasn't aware of how stubborn you are, O' Great Creator."

"What?" Your playful nature halted in its tracks as you stared at Venti, dumbfounded.

He blinked, confused, "Huh?"

You shook your disbelief away with a shake of your head and a laugh, "Did you just call me Teyvat's God?" You chuckled, "Then should I call you your friend's name?"

A flash of hurt took over his eyes, he whined, "Huh? What do they have to do with this, your grace?"

"What?" Dread crawled into the back of your throat, "Cut it out Venti, don't joke like that."

"But I'm not joking, your grace. Did you- did you not know?" His eyes were wide and glassy, "I'm sorry..."

You blinked owlishly, "Wha- you're serious? I thought- I thought I just looked like them!"

"I thought that was your intention!" Venti cried, "I thought this was like- a test of loyalty or something!"

"No! What? Am I actually-" You couldn't force the words out as you stared Venti in the eyes, stunned.

"Y-yes!" He shouted, "You're the creator! I can sense it! So can the slimes and animals. Don't you see?" He pointed to the nearby birds, their gaze turned towards you, "They like you! The monsters don't attack you and this statue calls out to you! Don't you feel its warmth? It's probably why you didn't freeze last night."

You were silent as the information processed, "So- so wait!" You turned your body fully facing Venti, "That shrine in the cathedral... was for me?" You asked, bewildered.

He nodded, "Yeah! Did- did you really not know?"

Immediately you were wildly shaking your head, "No! I just- I dunno! I thought I was like the traveler or something that just got dropped off here one day."

"The traveler came here of their own free will, (Name)!" Venti sighed, "I just- You look exactly like them too!"

"Listen! Denial is a powerful think, okay!" You huffed.

"Fine, I get it." He rested his head on his hands, his eyes meeting yours, "So... are you gonna tell the others?"

"... Dunno." You shrugged, "What would happen if I did?"

"Well..." Venti tapped his finger against his face and used his other hand to hold up his pointer finger, "Zhongli would go batshit. He's got a whole log up his ass when it comes to you and how to 'properly worship you' bleh." Venti stuck his tongue out, "Then there's Baal, she'll probably also go insane over you. She's like a lost puppy." He held up a third finger, "Then there's Jean and the knights. I think they'd be... alright. If you told them they'd try and throw huge festivals for you and worship you. Oh, and the church would triple their worshipping for you, obviously."

You roughly sighed, "So... I won't be treated as a human is what you're saying."

"I mean- well- yeah." He frowned, "Don't worry, I get it if you don't wanna do a whole grand reveal. It's stressful. Too much work, y'know?"

You hummed in agreement, "The thing is..." You frowned, "We don't have any mora."

Venti scoffed, straightening his back with a proud grin, "Speak for yourself! I have a mora."

You snorted, "A mora."

"Hey, better than what you're doing," He took off his hat, "It's right in here-"

You both stared at the hat that was almost as empty as your souls.

"Okay well," Venti put his hat back on, "Nothing a little begging can't do. Not like I haven't played music for money before."

You stared at the ground hopelessly, "...so... how do you think Ningguang would react to me telling her I'm the creator?"

Venti snorted, "I like the way you think but... she'd be grand. I think she'd make you live in the Jade Chamber and give you every little thing you could ever want. She can keep a secret though I'll bet."

You hummed and stared at Venti, living a life as free as a bird. Even with the status of the Anemo Archon, he was as free as his people, and just as happy as them as well.

"Not really the life I wanna live... what about Childe?"

Venti shuddered, "I love you (Name), but no. He makes... quite a spectacle of things. And, well," Venti frowned, "He'd probably leave a few corpses at your doorstep."

"Ah," You grimaced, "Okay so... we're fucked."

"Ah ah ah," Venti waggled his finger comically, "Don't you remember what I said? I can sing for money, and I'm sure with you, the creator's look-alike right by my side helping me with my performance, we'd make double the money! I mean," His eyes were alight with mischievous glee, an expression on him you were coming to dread, "That Noelle girl yesterday had no problem giving you a free meal just cause you look like the creator! So I'm sure we'll pull in lots of cash!"

You frowned and then a lightbulb went off in your head, "Wait a minute," Venti raised a brow, intrigued, "If I'm the supposed creator or god of this world... then those offerings at the altars and shrines are meant for me... right?"

Venti nodded with a tilt of his head, "Yes? ...Oh... Oh!" His eyes lit up like Christmas lights, "You mean-?"

You grinned, "So that means that if I were to... let's say... take the items and sell them, it wouldn't be wrong right?"

Venti tilted his head back and laughed, "No, I suppose it wouldn't be, your grace."

Your grin was damn near evil, "Then I suppose we have our plan then."

Venti nodded, "I suppose we do!" He hopped up and grabbed your hand to help you up as well, "Though I think my singing idea was pretty good." He kicked his legs up like a child as you both made your way back to Mondstadt, "Who knows, I might even become the most famous bard in all of Teyvat with you by my side!"

You hummed, smiling fondly at the silly bard at your side, "Perhaps."

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rons-wheezely · 3 years

Text

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him.

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.”

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is.

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once.

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…”

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.”

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile.

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love.

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films.

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you.

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?”

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you.

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 4 years

Text

I Would Do Anything You Asked Me To

This was supposed to be finished for the #vicficwriterchallenge earlier this month but life got in the way. I liked the prompt and lil fic so I figured I’d post it anyway. This is my first fic in the fandom too x

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer thinks he can hear Y/N moaning his name through the walls. But he has to be imagining things.

Category: Sort of smut, sort of fluff, and a lil teensy bit angsty

Warnings/Includes: smut, sexual language, voyerism, masturbation (both male and female), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed

Word count: 2000 words

Masterlist

There’s been tension for a while.

It’s been building steadily and slowly over the past few years. Spencer’s pretty sure it’s all been coming from his end though. Why would Y/N even give him a passing thought in a romantic context, she’d been his best friend from the jump, taken to him the second she’d joined the team. They had the same embarrassing sense of humor, the opposite taste in movies, and nothing but love for each other. But it was strictly platonic. So platonic that they’d bunk together in hotel rooms for most cases, staying up reading in side by side twin beds, or talking nonsense a little too late into the night given they always seemed to have such a long day ahead.

But lately things felt different.

One evening in Kansas Spencer thinks he can hear a faint moaning coming from the bathroom while he’s skimming through a hardback. The walls in this place are bordering on paper thin but he thinks that it sounds like moaning, muffled just a little by the hum of the shower running. When Y/N comes out, steam billowing behind her as she gently dries her hair with a towel, he thinks she looks flushed. He thinks it must just be from the hot air and doesn’t linger on the thought for long.

That is until the following week in Louisiana. The walls are a little thicker but the shower’s definitely not running this time. It’s been shut off for a few minutes when he hears the same breathy moans. And it’s unmistakable when he hears his own name tumbling from her lips, the way she always says it, just, different. When she emerges this time he’s staring her down, without really meaning to.

“Did you call me?” he asks, puzzled. She shakes her head, pulling a confused expression, but the tips of her ears start to glow pink, matching the strap of her bra that he can see falling down her shoulder. God he wishes he hadn’t noticed that.

The next time it happens is markedly different.

It’s in Texas, and Spencer gets to the room late. Not by a lot, but longer than he’d like. One of the officers at the station had some follow up questions that kept him lagging behind the rest of the team. All he wanted in the world was to collapse straight into bed and try and string together at least a few hours of sleep. It’s late so he opens the heavy fire door as gently as he can, pushing it closed behind him softly. He doesn’t want to wake Y/N but it becomes increasingly apparent that there’s no fear of that.

He thinks he can hear her voice, calling out for him, but when he rounds the corner that’s not the case. Y/N is splayed across her bed, legs spread with her hand buried between them. Sweet but filthy moans are falling from her softly parted lips, her eyes screwed shut with intensity as her fingers worked inside of her.

“Fuck” Spencer whispers, it’s quiet and involuntary but he drops his bag on the ground without thinking about it and it lands with a thud. He ducks back around the corner before her eyes open but she stops immediately.

“Spence?” she calls out into what looks like an empty room, “Spence wait!”

“I’m just—” he swallows hard, “I’m gonna shower before I hit the hay” he’s aiming for nonchalance but it comes out somewhere between childish and awkward. If she responds he doesn’t hear, he’s locked the bathroom door behind him in a hurry, slumping against it.

Spencer wants to forget about it, or maybe he doesn’t. He’s carding through the memories as he lets the water trickle over him. Hearing his name echoing around his head just the way she’d moaned it twice now. His hand was braced against the cold tile while he stroked along his hard length, the images of Y/N spread completely across the bed not 2 feet from him with her fingers deep inside herself. Her head falling back against the pillows in ecstasy. He can’t help but think about what she’d been imagining herself.

It doesn’t happen for a while after that.

They hardly speak really, and thankfully for Spencer there’s no need to double up on rooms for a little while. Now he’s just got to get a hold of himself while he’s around her on cases, or in the office. Which wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t sit at the desk opposite him, or the seat next to him on flights. Or if her hair wasn’t so beautiful in the way it cascaded over her shoulders, or worse still, when she gathered it all to one side, exposing the planes of her neck to him while she worked.

Spencer was managing to keep his urges, and his feelings, mostly at bay. But really who was he kidding, they were bubbling just below the surface and they had been for far longer than this had been going on.

In Florida 3 weeks later they’re stuck sharing a room again. Hotch didn’t really give either of them an option this time anyway, why would he presume anything had changed between the two of them. And really it hadn’t, it had just become, awkward?

This became painstakingly clear as they walked into the room together.

“I’ll take this one?” Spencer half-asked as he dropped his go-bag by the edge of the bed nearest the window.

“I’m easy” Y/N responded, walking to the other and sitting on the edge of it, hands resting in her lap. “Spence?” she ventured, it tumbled out of her like a whisper, he almost missed it, so he pretended he did.

“Mind if I grab the first shower?” he asked, without waiting to hear for an answer he made his way into the bathroom. He washed the day off his skin, scrubbing against it harshly with the sad hotel soap out of frustration more than anything else. Y/N had been his best friend for so long, and these complicated feelings didn’t negate that. This friendship was invaluable to him but he’d be kidding himself if he promised he could shake these feelings for good. Everyone he’d ever dated, or thought about dating, no matter how flawless, just wasn’t her. They didn’t have her laugh, her smile, her kindness, the fire inside that she possessed was missing in everyone but her.

Every time she’d even made an allusion to a date with someone his stomach would sink. He wasn’t proud of that but it was true. His heart would ache at the thought of some other man getting to be with her, in any way at all. Of course Spencer and Y/N would go out for dinner, or a movie, or whatever on their days off, but once he was in the privacy of his own room later that evening he’d imagine where they could’ve ended up.

In his bed together, holding each other close. Maybe he’d place soft, sweet kisses all over her cheeks, peppering her neck and jaw with them first thing in the morning. Other times he’d think about how he’d grab her and pull her by her hips, letting his fingernails dig into them as he fucked her from behind, shaking the more precarious items off his desk.

This time however he was thinking about her in that damn hotel room again. Getting herself off and whimpering his name, like maybe she hoped that it wasn’t her fingers but him buried inside her.

When he finally left the bathroom he’d almost hoped she’d be asleep. And prayed that she wouldn’t care enough to ask him whatever question he’d dodged before heading in there. But Spencer had never been a lucky guy.

“Spence?” she called out again, soft and timid. Y/N was in a nightdress, it was small and satin and baby pink, and his shoulders tensed at the sight. He was distracted enough to forget that she was perched, legs crossed, in the centre of his bed.

“Y/N, I’m by the window” he had to force the words out of his ever so slowly closing throat.

“Spence!” she called yet again, harsher this time, trying to get his full attention.

“What!?” it came out a little louder, a little meaner than he meant it to. It was just misplaced frustration. Frustration with himself, with the whole situation, but never at her.

“Sorry Y/N” he breathed, letting his eyes drift closed in a effort to calm his nerves.

“It’s alright” she soothes, bringing herself up to her knees so she can move closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to Spencer. She’s still shorter than him even perched up like this, and he's trying desperately to ignore the way he can just about see down her nightdress with the way she’s kneeling.

“Spencer.” she states his name calmly, “If I had—” she cuts herself off, taking in an unsteady breath. It doesn’t look like it helps all that much. She reaches out to him but pulls back before she can really make any physical contact. Torn.

“Fuck it” she huffs and looks up to make direct eye contact with him now, unwavering, and he’s got no idea where her bravery’s come from all of a sudden, and really neither does she. “That night in Houston” she breaks for just a second, “If I’d asked you to stay, would you?” her eyes remain fixed on his, waiting for a reply that’s stuck deep in his throat.

“Y/N, I—” he shakes his head, “What are you asking?”

Her head falls to the side in a universal gesture for ‘are you kidding me?’

“You know what I’m asking Spencer, I was calling for you, trying” her eyes screw shut as she pinches the bridge of her nose “would you have stayed?” she looks up at him now, her eyes full of uncertainty and what he thinks could be sadness.

Spencer’d been a coward. He knew that already. He’d been a coward from the second he’d noticed these feelings for Y/N, scared that they’d damage their bond, or that she wouldn’t reciprocate. Because really he had no reason to believe anyone would return those sorts of feeling for him, least of all the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He could scarcely let himself imagine scenarios where she liked him, like that. But here she was, in the flesh, in a fucking satin nightgown offering herself to him. And apparently not for the first time.

Spencer knew he’d been silent for too long, and honestly he didn’t have a verbal answer he could give that wouldn’t be an entire fucking poem. So instead he grabbed her, a strong hand pulling her face to his to engulf her lips in a kiss. Rougher than he probably mean it, his teeth almost clashing with her own as their mouths opened for one another, tongues delving in deeper exploring and working against the other. He could feel the tiny moans she let out vibrating against his lips only encouraging him to prolong the kiss for as long as he could, breathing deeply thorough his nose in the hopes that maybe he’d never have to remove his lips from hers ever again. But Y/N knew better, pulling away gently to look straight into Spencer’s glimmering eyes.

“Would you?” she asks once again, her pout is flushed and almost swollen and he catalogues that image so that he can remember it forever.

“I would do anything you asked me to” It escapes him without thought, and it’s true. And it’s the best he can do right now without pouring out his entire heart and soul in this stupid hotel room.

Masterlist

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tumbledfreckles · 3 years

Note

I love your works! And if u still take prompts I'd love to read a fic for this, "You want to be with me even thought I'm a muggleborn?" (Yes, I love angst 😂)

The fire was slowly dying when the couch shifted next to her. The room was quiet, save for the cracks and pops of the last of the burning wood. It had grown cooler as the night crept in, eerie and empty as students drifted up to bed, off to sleep.

The presence of another person, the feel of a warm body next to hers was so welcome, it made her realise how alone she'd felt, how lonely she'd been, since the lake.

The lake.

The whole sordid, awful event had become synonymous with the place. One of the best spots in the vast grounds, somewhere she'd come to associate with friends and fun and laughter and joy, forever ruined in the name of regret, despair, ridicule and embarrassment.

She didn't give him any leave, any sign that she was acknowledging his presence next to her. That it was okay for him to be there, sitting with her, after what had happened at the lake. To do so felt like it was an approval, an allowance, a tacit agreement that what he'd done, what he'd tried to do was okay, that they were okay.

But she didn't tell him that it wasn't.

And that felt like acquiescence all the same.

He didn't speak, so she didn't either. They sat, complicit in their silence, for what felt like hours. It probably was. The fire finished burning, a smoky smoulder left to drift across the common room. Light came from the sconces on the stairwell, the candles on the mantel, flickering, faltering light that cast shadows on her face and his.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was hoarse, cracked. She thought it was from disuse, he was so rarely quiet, and never for the length of time they'd sat together. But when he continued, she realised it wasn't.

"Evans, Lily, I'm so fucking sorry." His hands were in his hair, cradling his head as he leant forward, elbows braced on his knees. The tone, the pitch was one she'd never heard from him before. Misery she felt in her own gut. Anguish she felt in her own soul.

She might have felt vindicated, if she had room to feel anything else at all.

'It's oh-"

'"It's not." James was shaking his head, wrenching his face from his own grasp to look at her. "Don't try to tell me it's okay. It's not okay."

"No," Lily admitted quietly. So quietly she didn't even think he'd hear her. "It's not."

"I'm so sorry," James apologised again, this time while he held her gaze. His eyes were so bleak, so far from their usual mischief and charm, she couldn't look away. "I never thought he'd say that, do that. Never. Not you."

"It's not your fault," she could see him shaking his head, so she spoke quicker, before he could cut her off again. "It's really not. He would have done it sooner or later."

"Maybe." He sounded uncertain, reflective. It was new on him, but it also seemed to fit. Like he'd grown up in the several hours since she'd last seen him. "But probably not so brutally, and certainly not as publicly."

"Maybe," Lily echoed his word choice, matched his tone. "But it's done now."

"Are you," James was hesitant, clenching fists against his thighs, drawing in breath before he continued. "Are you okay? As okay as you could be, at least?"

"No." She was honest, at least. "But I will be."

His lips twitched at the ends as he appraised her. "Yeah, yeah, I think so too. You're a bloody marvel, Evans." He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. "And at least you can be consoled by the fact the entire student body is talking about you turning me down, not about anything else that happened today."

Her cheeks had gone pink at his compliment, now turning beet red with the mention of his bold enquiries into her interest in a date. "They aren't really?"

"Of course, they bloody are," James tsked. "That sorta stuff is top fodder for the gossip mongers, Evans. You know that."

Lily sighed. "I guess. And I suppose it could be worse. If they were talking about him, it definitely would be."

"You could almost say I did you a favour, Evans," he suggested, all cheek once more.

"Don't push it, Potter." But her pitch was too lighthearted to stop the grin he was giving her.

They fell back into silence. It felt different than before. Much more peaceful, much less lonely. Lily felt contented in a way she hadn't for hours, her spine relaxing, thoughts resting for the first time all evening.

"I meant it, you know." Again, his words broke the quiet, but she knew instantly what he meant.

She looked at him curiously all the same. "Really?"

He nodded, scarlet gracing his skin this time. "Really. I've liked you for a while."

"Oh," Lily looked down, played with her hands in her lap. The question rolled off her tongue before she could stop it. "You want to be with me even though I'm a Muggleborn?"

No answer came. She stared at her fingers, knitted together in a squeeze that verged on painful, willing him to answer, willing him to ignore her in the same breath.

"Yes." The surety, the assurance in the word drew her back to him. Moth to a flame, she was captivated by his expression. Warmth, confidence, strength radiated toward her, to the point she wanted to check the fire hadn't reignited in front of them. He continued as if she wasn't already dumbfounded. "Yes, but that doesn't even come into it, Evans. It shouldn't come into it. Not for anyone decent. Not to anyone who matters."

Lily nodded, unable to do anything but. She nodded, and ducked her chin, looking back at him shyly. "I don't, I'm not-"

"Relax Evans," he surprised her with his interruption, even more when he lay one hand over hers, stilling them, calming the restless anxiety she suddenly felt. "I'm not asking again."

She blinked. "You're not?"

James shook his head, smiling ruefully. "One rejection for the day was enough, thanks."

"Fair enough." She twisted her hand in his, linking their fingers in a gentle hold. "Friends, then?"

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, once, twice before he answered. "Yeah, Evans. Friends."

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfiction #hogwarts jily #canon jily #james potter #lily evans #fifth year jily #freckles writes #freckles answers prompts #i know theres no kiss and the secret of prompt success is a kiss but i couldnt stop this

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bullshxtvixen · 4 years

Text

On Mute

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Request: This is me making the request for sucking Kenma while he streams. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED IT! - @queenktbigal

Word count: 3.2k (oops)

Warnings: 18+, Softdom!Kenma, Bondage, Spanking, Finger fucking.

Song: Gravity by John Mayer

A/n: Thank you to @kiribakuho and @egghoe-waffle for reading this over for me, and to everyone in the karasuhoe discord server for thirsting over this idea with me, i hope i did it justice!!

You can find the sequel to this fic here

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“Kenmaaaaa.”

Standing in the doorway of your boyfriend's gaming room in nothing but one of his old volleyball shirts and a thin pair of underwear, you looked at the back of the brunette’s head with a pout. He’d spent the last 2 hours streaming with the boys and you were desperate for some attention.

Pulling his headset back slightly to free up an ear, he mumbled to the guys about hopping off for a second before he turned to you, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. You watched his eyes widen slightly as he took in your bare thighs and his old shirt loosely clinging to your form -even though he no longer played, he still got a thrill out of seeing you wearing his number. He shuffled in his seat, tempted to reach out and slip the shirt off of you.

His eyes lingered on your thighs a moment longer, his tongue darting out to coat his bottom lip before his golden eyes met yours. A smirk forms on your lips at the blush covering his cheeks.

“I-I’ll be done after this game, I promise, bunny.” He turned back to the game, repositioning his headset. He needed to finish the game but his mind was already distract by thought of his fingers running up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

Your smirk disappeared.

You were well aware that ‘After this game’ could mean anywhere from another 20 minutes to an hour, and you were too needy for that. You needed to feel his hands on you.

You watched him a moment longer before a thought occurred to you. Let’s see if he can concentrate after this. Peering over his shoulder, you checked to make sure that he was only streaming via audio before shimmying your underwear down your legs and kicking them to the side. His shirt fell just below your butt so you were still covered.

Without bringing too much attention to yourself, you crept over to the side of his gaming chair before sinking to your knees. He was so engrossed in the game and mumbling commands under his breath that he didn’t notice you until you began to slowly turn his chair towards you, and even then his eyes never left the monitor in front of him. It wasn’t unusual for you to climb into his lap when he was gaming so he didn’t think anything of it.

However, his head did snap in your direction, when he felt your fingers tug on the waistband of his sweatpants, “what are y-oh” it was too late for his hand that was reaching out to stop you. His cock was already released from it’s confines with your hand wrapped firmly around it, gently stroking his shaft. He immediately became hard under your touch and knowing that you had that effect on him had desire pooling in your stomach.

You subtly rubbed your thighs together to create some friction.

Covering his mic with one hand, his free hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements. “What are you doing, bunny?!” He hissed, though you felt his cock twitch in your hand. He was getting turned on just as much as you.

You shot him a wicked smile before stroking your thumb over the tip on his cock, a move you knew would drive him wild.

His reaction was immediate, his hips bucked up into your hand as he bit back the moan that was threatening to leave his throat.

‘I want to suck your cock’ you mouthed before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the head of his now leaking member.

Kenma knew he should’ve pushed you away, or at least quit the game and carried you to the bedroom so he could take you there, but the sight of you pulling back from his cock with his precum coating your lips as if it were lipgloss, had all sense of reason flying out of his brain.

If that’s how you wanted to play, then so be it.

“Give me a sec, guys.” He mumbled into his mic as he uncovered it before hitting the mute button. Releasing your wrist from his grasp, he reached for your chin, his soft fingers tilting your head so you could meet his eyes. Desire swirled in them, causing your body to heat up under his gaze.

His usual laid back demeanor had gone and was now replaced with hunger. He wanted you, and the look alone told you his was going to have you begging for him.

He leaned forward so that his face was hovering just above yours, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. His warm breath ghosted over your lips, sending another shiver down your spine as his scent wrapped around you.

“You want to suck my cock, bunny?” His thumb swiping across your bottom lip before giving it a gentle tug. You nodded, giving his cock a gentle squeeze to convey your need for him. He leant back, a small smirk falling on his lips.

“Then suck it,” he held up a finger before you could move an inch, “but I’m going to finish this game and unmute the mic while you do it.”

You tensed. While the thought of sucking him off when there was a risk of people overhearing turned you on, you couldn’t help but still be a little apprehensive about it. Looking at Kenma, you could see that he thought he’d won as a smug smile settled on his features. He didn’t think for a second you’d go through with it.

Reaching over his desk, you pressed the unmute button so that the light switched from red to green, meaning that the mic was back on. “Game on.” You whispered.

Then your hot tongue was on his cock, licking a slip up his thick shaft before taking the tip into your mouth. He had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from moaning as your tongue danced around his tip, licking up the precum that was still collecting there. God, he did he taste good. There was no way you’d ever get bored of the way he tasted.

Turning his head back to the game, he managed to keep his voice level as he let the other players know that he was back in.

That just wouldn’t do. You wanted to see him writhe under your touch.

Hollowing your cheeks you began to take more of him into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around him as you did. You loved how big his cock was, even as it hit the back of your throat and caused you to gag, you only continued to suck harder.

Your free hand gripped his thigh as your head continued to bob up and down his length, your hand working what you couldn’t fit passed your lips. Meeting his eyes, he mouthed ‘all of it.’ before giving a gentle thrust of his hips and turning back to the game. As he hit the back of your throat once again, you felt your throat protest. Pulling away for air, you felt his hand reach down to fist in the back of your hair, preventing you from taking his cock all the way out of your mouth.

You moaned around what was left between your lips, the vibrations almost causing him to spill into your mouth right there. Fuck, did you feel good, he should’ve known his third favourite hole of yours would be able to work him well enough to have him ready to cum in minutes. He wasn’t going to let you have that satisfaction though.

Even still, that mouth of yours knew exactly how to work his cock and he was having a hard time remembering how to breath properly, let alone concentrate on the game in front of him.

“You good, Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice came through the headset.

“Y-yeah, just having some issues...with my controls.” He said, his voice higher than he’d meant it to be as your mouth made a sinful sound around him.

“You sure, I thought I heard a weird noise…”

“It’s nothing!” He said quickly, too quickly. He hoped they didn’t press any further. He held his breath for a few seconds, but if Kuroo and the rest of the party suspected anything, they didn’t voice it. He let out a shaky breath.

Good. He didn’t actually want them to hear the lewd sounds your mouth was making as you took his cock down your throat. Those sounds belonged to him and only him.

He loosened his grip on your hair but you continued to take him further as your throat relaxed around his length, your nose now hitting the spatter of dark pubic hairs at the base of his cock. When you hummed around him and brought your fingers up to gently massage his balls, his whole body seemed to convulse under your touch.

Shaking his head, he tried to focus back on the game, his grip on the mouse a little tighter. His eyes followed his player on the screen when he spotted movement in the corner of the screen.

“Sniper, to the r—” He heard Kuroo -or maybe it was Shoyo, he couldn’t tell anymore, his mind was hazy with lust- call out, but it was too late. It was game over.

Throwing his headset onto the desk, he turned to you, his eyes burning into yours. You felt your walls clench between your thighs, your arousal beginning to leak out of you.

“Up, now.” You didn’t need to be told twice. You stood up in front of him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Bunny, that mouth of yours...it’s sinful.” His voice was low as his hand reached out to caress your inner thigh, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I couldn’t even concentrate on the game, I just wanted to watch you taking me between those beautiful lips.” Up and up his fingers went, “but now, now I want to see myself disappearing into the ones between your hips.” His fingers reached the apex of your thighs and he groaned.

“You’re not wearing any underwear, Bunny. Did you plan this?” He already knew the answer. You could only moan as he slipped two fingers in you, his thumb beginning to make tight circles on your throbbing clit.

“You’re already dripping and i’ve hardly touched you,” his fingers picked up their pace inside you as the knot in your stomach began to tighten, “always so ready for me like the good girl you are. Even if I couldn’t feel how wet for me you are, I’d be able to tell from those sounds your pussy is making around my fingers.”

You could only whimper at his words and grasp onto his shoulders as he curled and scissored his fingers, stretching your walls in the most intoxicating way. Your legs began to tremble as his other hand shot out and gave you a firm smack on your ass.

“Put your foot up here, bunny.” his fingers continued to work inside you as you placed your foot on his chair next to his leg. Your head fell back as he was now able to slide another finger inside you and reach even deeper than before, brushing against your sweet spot with every movement of his wrist.

“Fu-, Kenma, fuck. Oh god.” Your words were failing you as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you, his palm now pressing against your clit as your fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling, dipping his head down to kiss your inner thigh. You were his and only he could ever make you feel this good, you both knew it.

“I want you to cum on my fingers, now.” Then his teeth were nipping at your inner thigh as he pressed his fingers against your g spot. Kenma watched as your orgasm consumed you, your hanging out the side of your mouth and your eyes closed as the ecstasy ran though your body.

His cock was throbbing unbearably now, his hand reaching down to stroke himself as he felt your walls continue to clench around his fingers that were still moving inside you, prolonging your orgasm as much as he could. He wasn’t done with you just yet.

Before you had a chance to come down from your orgasm, he was removing his digits from your greedy cunt, your juices coating his hand. Your eyes were heavy as you watched him bring the hand to his mouth so that he could lap at your juices.

“You taste amazing, bunny,” he licked some more of your release off his fingers as you brought your foot back down to the ground, your legs unsteady, “no one else will ever get to taste you, you’re all mine.” You were his, you always had been, you both knew it.

“All yours, Kenma. Forever.” you whispered, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned into it, pressing a kiss to your wrist. His heart swelled at your words, he’d never wanted you more than he did right now.

“Turn around for me, hands behind your back.” You hesitated for a second, searching his eyes for any hint of what he had planned. Unable to find anything you turned and did as he said. You heard shuffling before you felt something being tied around your wrists, securing them in place behind your back.

“Wha-”

Before you could ask what he’d used to tie your wrists, you were spun around and pulled into Kenma’s lap, a knee falling on either side of his thighs. His hands reached out to steady you as you were unable to use your hands to stop you from falling.

His face was just inches from yours. You could see your breath moving the hairs that fell on his forehead, pushing them out of his eyes as they peered up at your disheveled state. His hand came up to brush some of your own hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ear. He took your chin between his thumb and index finger, bringing you even closer to him.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me, Bunny?” then warm lips were on your throat as his hands slipped beneath his shirt you were wearing, trailing his fingers over your stomach and under your breasts before settling on your thighs. You shivered under his touch, your arousal beginning to coil in your stomach again. You whimpered as you pulled at your restraints -that you now realised must’ve been some kind of spare cord from his computer- wanting to touch him.

You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, your juices coating his tip so that he’d be able to slip inside you so easily.

“Please, Kenma. I-I need you.” You grind down onto him, needing him to fill you.

He let out a groan, his hips coming up to meet yours so that just the head of cock was inside you. He was teasing you, finally getting his own back for how you’d snuck up on him earlier. You tried desperately to sink down onto him but his grip on your hips stopped you. It was driving you mad.

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, there was no one who could drive you crazy like him and he knew it.

Removing a hand from your hip, he reached around your back before grabbing a fist full of your hair and giving it yank, making your head fall back so that your throat was exposed to him.

You yelped at the pain but it was quickly forgotten as Kenma used your vulnerable state to press a kiss to each of your collar bones, before licking a hot path up the hollow of your throat. You shivered at the feel of his tongue on your skin.

Then he was wrapping his free arm around your back and easing you down into his cock, your jaw hanging loose as he finally filled you in the most delicious way.

“Good girl, take it for me.” And you did. He didn’t give you anytime to get accused to his length before his hands were back on your hips and he was guiding you up and down on his hardened shaft.

The feel of him stretching you had your head swimming as you braced your forehead on his shoulder and began to match his pace. The grip he had on your hips was sure to leave marks, but you didn’t care, you craved his hands on you.

Your moans filled the room as you felt another orgasm building. His lips latched onto your neck as he angled his hips to a new position that allowed his cock to hit a spot inside you as stars danced across your vision.

“Kenma, I’m close, I’m so close, please.”

He knew you were, he could feel your walls beginning to clamp around him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer either.

His thrusts became sloppy as a thin sheen of sweat coated the both of you. His hand grasped your chin and pulled your face to his, needing to feel your lips on his. Your breaths mingled as your stomach tightened once again.

“Cum for me, bunny. Cum on my cock like a good girl.” he whispered against your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, stilling your movements. He picked up his pace, giving a few more hard thrust inside your sopping pussy, feeling your body seize up in his hold as another orgasm ripped through you.

“Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.” was all you could say as you were lost to the ecstasy that flowed through your body. It had your eyes squeezing shut and your toes curling as you rode it out.

Kenma followed not long after, his teeth latching onto your shoulder as his warm cum coated your walls. His breathing was heavy as you sank into his chest, his now limp cock falling out of you.

You felt empty for a second before warm lips were placed on your forehead, his hand coming up to brush your hair from your sweaty forehead. He reached around and removed the makeshift restraint from your wrists, placing a soft kiss to the raw skin on each one.

“That was...” you started, unable to find the words.

“Mind blowing?” He muttered into your hair, his voice sleepy. He shifted you in his arms, picking you so he could carry you to the bedroom.

You peaked up at him through your lashes and he gave you one of his private smiles. It made your heart squeeze. He shared so much of himself with you that no one else got to see and it made you unbelievably happy.

Sighing with content, you looked over his shoulder at where he’d just fucked you and you froze in his grasp.

“Um, Kenma...”

He stopped in the doorway. “What is it, bunny?”

You could only nod your head towards the gaming set up and the bright green mute button that you knew should’ve been red if it was on mute.

He turned his head to see what you were referring to. When he realised what you meant, his whole body tensed.

“Oh fuck.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Yeah, so i got a little bit carried away with this request and i’m not sorry. I can’t even begin to describe how much fun i had writing this. I live for soft dom Kenma!! - Vixen

#kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kenma smut #kenma imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #nekoma #kenma #hq #my writing #mine #vixenwrites #haiykuu #vixenscribbles #hq peepee

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baecvlt · 3 years

Note

Hello hello! I looove your work! I was wondering if I could requests Kazuichi taking his best friend(or lover! Just thought friend would make it more interesting) on a late night car ride to test some adjustments he made to it, could end up with some steamy car sex? Hopefully this made sense! I've been craving this kind of fic

Car Sex: Kazuichi Soda x Reader

a/n: It’d be an honor to write this. Hope you enjoy! ALso VERY WELL ESTABLISHED FRIENDSHIP HERE + projecting my interests onto reader because I get selfish AND I feel like Kaz listens to rock/alt/indie music. K byeee. ALSO READER IS FEM, pls specify next time

It was a Friday night, you were out for dinner with your best friend, Kazuichi Soda. You were glad to finally get out the house. It got lonely, plus you got to catch up with him and see him personally. He offered to pay for your meal, you allowed it since this time you were tight on money. As he paid, you notice he was excited about something.

“I know this is so last minute,” he began,“But I was wondering if you’d come back to the shop with me”

You nodded, but remained curious. “Of course, I’ll go, but why?”. He leaned toward you and he was excited. His leg was shaking and hands slightly shaking. “I’m finally finished with my car!,” he cheered,“I want you to be the very first to join me for a test drive!”. You smiled. Kazuichi had been working on this car since high school. He almost gave up on it too, so you were happy he never gave up on it. “Of course I’ll go!,” you told him, just as cheerful as he was. You both has walked to the restaurant, now walked back to the shop.

His family was there, closing the shop up. You obviously greeted them. He walked right past them and to the garage. A sheet was on top of the car. Once you were in the room, he walked towards it. He grabbed the sheet, doing a small countdown. “3..2..1-”. He yanked the sheets off, revealing a new and improved car. “So, what do ya think?”. You were excited with him now. “Jesus, the paint job on this is amazing!,” you said to him. “‘May have taken me my whole high school and half my college experience to finish it, but it was worth it!”.

“Totally”

“What do ya say? Should we take it out for a spin”

“You don’t have to ask me twice”

He cheered quietly, opening the passenger door for you and hopping into the driver’s side. He opened the garage door, pulling out of the driveway. He had only driven down the street and you saw how nervous he was. You grabbed his hand, he gasped when you did. “Hey, I’m sure the car is fine, don’t stress out”. He smiled, putting his arm around you. You relaxed laying back. You drove around for about half an hour, going up some hill to a mountain. “Where are we going?,” you asked him.

“We’re gonna look at the stars”

“Ooo, nice”

He parked by the edge of the mountain. It was weird because no other cars were to be seen. Usually there were. “By the way, I wanna show you the coolest thing here,” he said, opening the glove compartment. He took out a CD, Slowdive's 1993 album Souvlaki, and revealed he had a working stereo. "Holy shit, it works?," you were excited. He nodded, popping in the CD. "I love Slowdive," you mumbled. He smiled, chuckling a little.

"I know. You were listening to it the day we met"

"Oh! I was...Yeah, I remember you came up to me that day. You were so awkward"

"Right? God, I feel like I acted like a douche"

"You were like,'Hey, we shouldn't be able to hear your music'"

"Yeah, yeah. Then you were all,'Oh, sorry!'. Then, I was like,'Don't worry, but anyway, Slowdive, huh?'"

You both laughed. "God, I felt that you were trying to hit on me that moment," You told him,"But you're just...you're really nice". Smiling, he shook his head. "Do you miss high school?," he asked. You thought about it for a moment. Did you? "You know what," you began,"Partially". He was confused. "What do you mean?".

"Well, we all had good times in high school. We had good friends, all those memories. We've kinda drifted away, but that's why I partially miss it"

"So why don't you?"

"I felt like I didn't belong"

He looked at you sympathetically. "You all had an established talent. I didn't," you told him,"Sometimes, I still wish I hadn't gone". Hearing you say so saddened him. "But you're good at a lot," he said,"You were better than everyone there". "You're just saying--".

"No! I swear, you are talented at a lot. It was just never put into one thing. You aren't alone either. Hajime never had an exact talent, Nagito won a lottery...you belonged there just as anybody else. You are a Jack of All Trades—"

"—Master of None."

"NO! You are the master of all!"

You smiled. "I care so much about you. I'm really glad we met. I just know that if we hadn't met my life wouldn't be the way it is now...," he said,"So, please, never say that again! You belonged there". You lay back in your seat, trying not to cry. For the first time in forever you felt like you had a place in the world, it felt weird, but not bad. You weren't used to feeling important. "Are you even happy with your life?". He looked at his thumbs when you asked him that. You were afraid of his answer, you didn't know why, but you were.

"There are somethings I wish I didn't have to deal with, but when I think about you, I realize that it's all worth dealing with...and that makes me the happiest man in the world"

"Kaz..."

He said your name, his voice low when he did. It interrupted anything you wanted to say next and your thoughts were racing. "I..I—". He sighed. You knew whatever he had to say next was not easy for him to spit out. "You know how important this car is was for me, it took up my entire high school year to work on. I know I had fun doing it, but I didn’t build it for me,” he sputtered and you could tell he was nervous,“I made this car so that...so that I'd have something to impress you with the day I had the courage to tell you how I really feel about you. I love you and I have for so long. I don't see myself being with anyone else and I wanted you to think of me as the coolest guy you'd ever met and now you probably think I'm a chump–"

You launched yourself towards him, attacking his lips and you felt his skin radiating. He felt as if he had been kissed by an angel. "I love you too, Kaz," you whispered. You really did. Crawling onto his lap, you pushed his hair back. "I wish it hadn't taken you so long to tell me," you added, frowning,"We could have done all these cute high school couple things, then moved onto adult couple things". He kissed you this time, his hands on your hips as you nibbled his bottom lip. He managed to move you both to the passenger side in order to prevent your back setting the horn off. He stopped for a minute.

"'Adult couple things'?"

"Yeah"

"Well, we're adults now, aren't we? And who says we're too old to do what high schoolers do"

"You're not wrong either...but are you interested in doing adult things with me?"

He blushed and looked away for a minute,"I, uh- I've never done it before. I was waiting do it with someone who loves me, y'know? But- you love me, right?". You laughed, nodding. He laughed too, shaking his head as he reached up your skirt, his calloused and rough hands rubbing your thighs. "Hoh-okay, you asked for it". He leaned forwards to kiss you, grabbing the waistband of your panties as his tongue entered your mouth. He pulled them down, allowing you to remove the rest by making his seat go further back. You kicked them off, going to unzip his jeans and pull those down too along with his boxers. He was already rock hard and made you throb just looking as his cock. It was slightly above average in both length and girth, but what did you expect from a dork like him?

You took off your entire skirt before climbing right back into his lap right after pulling them down, he smirked and lowly praised you: "Good girl". He kissed you a little more before he grabbed his cock, ready to guide it inside you. "You ready?". You were shaking, but uttered a soft,"Yes...". Before he could, the Slowdive song you were listening to when you first met started playing and you knew this was meant to happen. You melted when he heard it too. It means it meant something to him and it meant as much to him as it meant to you. "You remember this song, baby?". He pressed light kisses on your forehead as you nodded. You felt his tip at your entrance and you whined. "W-Wait! Kaz, please be careful," you begged. He nodded and kissed you again. "I'll be soft," he reassured you,"Besides, I want to take my time with you. Okay?". You took a breath and relaxed.

"Okay"

"Uh, wait- I should probably ask. Did you wanna do this laying down? I don't think it's fair if you're on top during our first. Plus, I don't want your back to hurt"

"Y-Yeah, my back was starting to ache a little"

He nodded, putting the seat all the way back, now mimicking a bed. You switched positions, spreading your legs for him. He put the volume on the stereo almost all the way up before picking your legs up. He positioned himself again, pushing in just the tip. You gasped quietly, breaking into a very sweet moan as he pushed in all the way, groaning lustfully. He repeatedly pushed in: deep, but slow. He only felt his erection grow harder seeing you blush. Your little moans and soft whimpers when he'd hit that one spot you thought only you would be able to reach made him twitch inside you. He tried to keep his composure, but your walls constantly pumping him made it almost impossible. He leaned forward, desperately trying to kiss you. You could've melted right then and there, seeing how this man made love to you. "I-I love you..," he whispered against your lips. God, he was so cute too.

"I love you too, Kaz, but this is a little too slow now"

"Please, tell me what you need"

"I want you fuck me harder"

"Whatever you say, princess"

His thrusts went from "slow and deep" to "abrupt and very deep". "Like that?". You kissed him in response, grabbing his hair and pushing his head to you. His hips snapped inside you, making it harder to control your breathing. At this point, the windows as fogged up, making the air around you hot. He grabbed your breast, massaging them. You did him the favor of unbuttoning your blouse. You grabbing his hand and slipped it under your bra. "They're so pretty and warm," he mumbled. You could tell he didn't want you to hear that from how low he said it, but you heard it well. He pulled your bra down to your torso, ducking his head down to be able to suck on your breasts a little. "K-Kaz! I'm really sensitive there!". He didn't respond, so entertained by your boobs, knowing playing with them made you feel good.

Your stomach was in knots and it was hard to hold anything anymore.

It took one really hard thrust, making you squirt. He didn't even know it could do that. You didn't cum all the way through, making it uncomfortable now. You felt like you were being edged. "Kaz, it doesn't feel good anymore".

"Do we stop?"

"No, no! Just...I need to cum"

"I'll get you there"

His hands went back to your hips, slamming into you fast and deep. Your body trembled, shaking as he hit your sweet spot again and again and again. "Is this okay?," his voice husky as he was nearing his orgasm too. You nodded, whining. "I-It feel so good..please don't stop," you cried,"It's so good!..". He went faster, grunting softly. You were near crying, about to release. "Are you gonna cum?". He was just as impatient as you were.

"I'm cumming, I-I'm cumming"

"I can't last anymore. C-Can I cum inside?"

"Please, baby"

He groaned you name, shooting his load in you. You knew it was a lot too, feeling it when you moved. He pulled out, laying on the other seat lazily. You were still so turned on, pumping your two fingers in and out of you, securing his cum inside you. "Good girl". You picked your braw up to cover your chest since it was getting cold. "You look so pretty," he added. You were blushing as he helped you with your clothes. Naturally, you helped him with his. "I hope this is a good time to ask, but...". "Yes?"

"I want you to be my girlfriend"

"I'm so glad you do. Yes, Kazuichi, I'll be your girlfriend!"

"Yes! Fuck Yes! Oh god, I'm so happy!"

You kissed his cheek, making him become even more giddy as he wrapped his arm around you and drove you to his home. Kissing on his bed, he hugged you tightly afterward as you shushed him to sleep.

#danganronpa #kazuichi danganronpa #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda smut #kazuichi souda smut #kazuichi smut #smut #x reader

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

All I’ve Ever Known - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

last of my oneshots for my showtunes fic list, based on the song All I’ve Ever Known from the musical Hadestown! i’ve had so much fun with this series of fics, i hope you guys have enjoyed reading them xx

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: george finds her extremely intriguing, the way she spends her days drawing and creating art. maybe one day he’ll pluck up the courage to talk to her.

Warnings: mentions of food, mentions of bullying/exclusivity, stereotypical slytherin biases

lyrics are bold and italicized

–

I was alone so long

I didn’t even know that I was lonely

Y/N sat by herself at the end of the Slytherin table, pushing what was left of her meal around her plate. She could hear the different conversations flowing around her, the ones including her fellow housemates moreso, but as usual she wasn’t involved in any of them.

She could hear Malfoy sneering to his little crew about something or other that Potter did to irritate him that day. She could hear Adrian Pucey discussing the latest Quidditch plays they had used at training that day. She could hear a couple of first years anxiously discussing the topic of their exams the next day.

All around her were signs of companionship and community, yet she was left utterly alone. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why she had been outcasted from her house the moment she got sorted.

“Isn’t she muggleborn?”

“What a disgrace to Slytherin.”

“The Sorting Hat’s made a mistake with that one.”

Over the years, she had gotten used to how those in her house treated her–holding her at arm’s length. She had spent many nights in her first year crying herself to sleep because of how all-consuming the loneliness had been, but now at her seventh year, she was numb to it all.

She knew who she was: A talented muggleborn witch and a proud Slytherin. She didn’t need validation from anyone else. And anyways, most of her time was spent out on the grounds with her sketchpad or in the Room of Requirement painting.

Loud laughs from the Gryffindor table spurred her out of her thoughts. The Weasley twins had pranked their younger brother, and it seemed like their younger sister was an accomplice to the crime as well. The rest of the red and gold house was watching on amusedly, no doubt accustomed to similar situations.

The Weasleys were a well known family at Hogwarts. How could they not be? With their fiery red hair and their big personalities, it was a given that they caught the attention of almost every student.

Y/N admired how they just fit right in with their house, their second family. Of course, a lot of it had to do with the fact that they were so comfortable with the Hat’s placement. Their whole family was sorted into Gryffindor, she could remember, albeit slightly foggily, the older Weasley siblings in leadership roles when she was younger.

Her eyes lingered on George’s laughing figure for a second longer than the rest of them. She was always intrigued by the younger twin. They seldom had classes together, but from what she could gather, he was just as observant and perceptive as he was mischievous and quick witted.

As bodies began to take their leave from the Great Hall, a rough shove to the shoulder nearly made Y/N fall onto the floor. Her eyes snapped up to the offender and she saw the unbecoming sneer of Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were snickering not so quietly behind him as he stared down at her.

“Whoops,” he jeered, “Sorry to disrupt your staring at the blood traitors and gryffindorks. Maybe you’d be better off with the lot of them.”

With a huff, Y/N gathered her things and strode out of the hall without so much as a second look behind her.

It's like I’d known you all along

I knew you before we met

And I don’t even know you yet

All I know is you're someone I have always known

She was drawing again, George noted.

It always baffled him how she was always alone. Usually students at Hogwarts drifted about their days in groups or pairs; it was rare to see someone spend most of their time by themselves. Growing up with 6 siblings, and having a twin, George was so used to the chaos and noise that came with it that he couldn’t picture what it was like to go about your day solo.

His eyes drifted towards her figure sitting on a blanket out in the grounds. She was blissfully unaware of her surroundings, or more to the point, the person staring at her like a bloody idiot. The weather was slowly transitioning from autumn into winter, and he could tell that she was trying to milk the last few warm days.

It was no secret to him that she preferred to sketch out in the sunny grounds, but Hogwarts being situated in the Scottish countryside made it so that her window of opportunity to do so was limited.

He was so focused on how her brows furrowed in concentration and how her lips pursed ever so slightly when she made a mistake, that he didn’t notice Fred’s many deep sighs. This caused his twin to take one final deep breath and exhale as loudly as possible.

“What’s got your wand in a knot then?” George asked, taking his eyes off of Y/N and turning to face his brother.

“Finally noticed that I exist, have you?” teased Fred.

“Oi, just get on with whatever you want to say!”

He merely laughed, “If you want to talk to the snake, just do it!”

George had the audacity to act as if he didn’t know what Fred meant, “What in Merlin’s name are you on about?”

“Don’t be daft,” Fred smacked him lightly on the back of the head, “You’ve been pining after that Slytherin bird for months, just go and talk to her already!”

“Was I that obvious?”

With a frustrated groan, Fred shoved his twin in the direction of the girl. George stumbled for a second and checked to see if she had seen, she hadn’t. He sent a glare at the redhead over his shoulder, before dusting off his trousers and donning a confident facade.

As he strode across the courtyard, his hands grew increasingly clammy and his heart began to beat erratically in his chest. There was no turning back now, though, as he approached the girl.

His shadow blocked the sun from Y/N’s notebook and she looked up, not expecting anyone to get so close to her.

“Erm, hello,” George waved awkwardly as he towered over her figure.

She blinked a few times before replying, “Hello. Can I help you with something?”

“Mind if I join you?”

George’s question rang through the still air for a moment as Y/N processed what he had just asked. No one had ever wanted to keep her company as she drew before, she wasn’t quite sure how to react. Just before the moment turned even more awkward than it already was, she gave him a swift nod.

The tall, lanky redhead folded his legs beneath him as he made himself comfortable on the path of grass next to her. He had to stop himself from grinning too wide, “I’ve seen you around, you know.”

She merely raised a confused eyebrow in his direction.

“Not-not like I’ve been stalking you!” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling his ears turn hot, “I’ve just noticed you like to draw out here, especially when the weather’s warm.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

George’s gaze on hers was so sincere, she kicked herself internally for not saying the right thing to him, “No you’re not! Don’t worry. I’m just not used to people paying much attention to what I do. I mean, I’m not that interesting.”

She felt small under his analytic gaze, but something in her kept her from looking away.

“Well I think you’re plenty interesting from what I’ve seen,” He shrugged nonchalantly, “Tell me about your drawings!”

He had said the magic words and the pair of them dove into a conversation. Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement, as she rarely had the opportunity to speak about something she was so passionate about.

“These look bloody brilliant,” George murmured in awe as he flipped through the pages of her notebook.

Y/N’s face warmed at the compliment, “Thanks.”

All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own

But now I wanna hold you too

For nearly every day after their first encounter, George made it a point to talk to Y/N. Whether it be along the hallways on the way to class, during meals (he would take her hand and drag her to the Gryffindor tables, much to her bemusement), or out on the grounds while she drew.

Most of the time, he would talk and talk and talk as she listened quietly. A soft smile would always grace her lips as she observed him and how he spoke so highly of his family and how he was so excited for the shop he would be opening with his brother. The tone of his voice and his large grins always made her feel included in whatever it was that he talked about.

“Hello love,” George smiled down at her before plopping down on the soft grass to her right, “Reckon we’re on the last few days of good weather.”

His eyes raised skywards as the overcast clouds floated above them, hers did the same.

“It’s alright,” she shrugged, sending him a small smile, “We’ve made the most of it, I think.”

The pair sat in relative silence, as silent as it could be with one of the Weasley twins, as Y/N built up the courage to show George what she had made for him. With a deep breath, she plucked something from her school bag that lay strewn across the grass and held the parchment to her chest.

“George?”

“Yeah, Y/N?” his eyes trained on her nervous figure and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Everything alright?”

She nodded her head swiftly, “Yeah everything’s perfect! I just wanted to show you something that I made.”

Slowly, she smoothed out the parchment in front of them. She observed George quietly as he took in the sketch she had made. His eyes scanned it over once, twice, three times before they met hers again.

“Is this…” He mumbled, taking the sketch into his hands to look closer.

“You’ve just been so excited about your joke shop that I–I made a logo for you guys,” she smiled sheepishly, “It’s pretty bare bones, but I wanted you to see it. I won’t take offence if you don’t like it!”

George stared at her, mouth slightly agape. This was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for him, and she did it out of the kindness of her heart. Without a second thought, he threw his arms around her and quickly pulled her to his chest. Y/N let out a little ‘oof’ as she collided with him, heat spreading throughout her body. She was thankful that she was basically smushed on his chest, at least then he couldn’t tell how flustered she got at his display of affection.

“So d’you like it?” she asked shyly, looking up at him.

“I bloody love it!”

Y/N let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding, the pair of them grinning at each other.

Later in the day, George all but dragged Y/N into the Gryffindor common room in search of Fred. His brother was sat on one of the couches by the fireplace, chatting idly with Lee. The sound of parchment hitting him square in the chest rang through the relatively empty room.

Fred’s hands immediately held onto whatever George had placed on him, and his eyes lit with joy as he realized what he was looking at.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, “Is this what I think it is?”

George took a seat next to his brother, his hand tugging Y/N along to take the seat beside him, “Yep. Our Y/N here has made us a logo for Wheezes.”

“This is brilliant, Y/N! Thank you!”

For the second time that day, she found herself wrapped up in the arms of a Weasley twin. Slightly used to it, she just laughed the show of affection off and patted Fred slightly on the back.

“Happy to help,” she smiled.

–

As the seasons turned from autumn to winter, Y/N found herself spending more and more time with the red headed twins. She found their enthusiasm for their joke shop infectious, always chipping in with ideas of her own for products, or sketching up prototypes for them to look at.

Slowly, her days were filled with laughter and warmth.

It was a little jarring at first, spending so much time with people who actually cared about her, people who wanted to hear what she said and see what she created. It surprised her, really, how quickly she had become accustomed to being around them.

After a while, though, she found herself wanting to spend as much time as possible with George. She lived for the routine that they had formed, spending most of their breaks and meals together.

It struck her on a seemingly ordinary day, the realization that she was falling for him.

Y/N and George were at a far corner in the library, discussing how the product designs she made could be tweaked a little. He was hunched over the parchment, tracing his fingers over the soft lines of charcoal on the parchment, smudging it just a tad bit and getting some of the pigment on him.

“I love the way you drew…”

George had said something or other about the design, but Y/N couldn’t focus on anything except the way his arm flexed as he spoke. From the corner of her eye, she kept glancing at him, noticing how the glow of candlelight cast soft shadows on his face. The freckles on his cheeks seemed to dance in the flickering light, and looking at the constellations on his face made her breath hitch in her throat.

She couldn’t quite place why her heart was raging in her chest, as if she hadn’t spent most of her days with the red headed boy anyway.

And then it hit her.

Her eyebrows shot up at the sudden awareness of her feelings for George. Oh sweet Merlin and Morgana, she thought.

You take me in your arms

And suddenly there’s sunlight all around me

“George!”

Y/N’s voice rang through the relatively empty hallway as she raced to meet her friend. The friend that she might have been in love with. The friend that she spent hours and hours of her day with, trying to ignore the bubble of feelings that wanted so badly to burst in her chest.

The redhead who was on his way back up to his common room paused mid-step as he heard her voice. He spun on his heel, turning just in time for him to see her barreling towards him, waving a piece of parchment above her head.

When she nearly collided head on with him, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and steadied her, “Woah there, Y/N. There’s no need to try and kill me.”

She huffed, catching her breath slightly, “Sorry, I’m just so excited!”

“Are you going to tell me what you’re excited about, or?” he teased, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin on her face, she shoved the piece of parchment she was holding into George’s hands, “I just figured out how the general design of the Wonder Witch products should look like! See here there’s a–”

“Godric I love you.”

Both bodies froze at the statement. George immediately felt his whole body get hot, no doubt tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. Y/N’s mouth was slightly agape, her mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts as she tried to comprehend what had just come out of George’s mouth.

“What?” she asked, unable to form a proper sentence.

George took a deep breath, there was no going back now, “Erm, yeah. I fancy the hell out of you, Y/N. That wasn’t the way I would’ve preferred to tell you but, I do–I do love you, yeah.”

“Oh, Georgie,” Y/N whispered.

Taking her answer as a rejection, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s alright that you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want this to ruin–”

Instead of replying, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in a hug, “I love you too, you silly boy.”

The nerves got the better of her, and her words were slightly muffled as she whispered them into his chest.

“Come again?”

“I love you too, George!”

A wide grin spread across his face as he looked at the girl in his arms. He felt like he could fly with how happy he was. Everything he needed was right in front of him, and he would hold her close for as long as he could.

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @hufflepuff5972

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels

#kai's showtunes fics #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley fics #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #tw food mention #tw bullying

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

*°:⋆ₓₒCollab Masterlistₓₒ⋆:°*

Pairing: All Might x Gn!Dom!Reader (Theme for this month was sex work au!)

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+ this is a dark fic, both dubcon/noncon, straight up, forced submission, bit of mind break, dom/sub dynamics, sub!All Might, dominant All Might later in, dark All Might, violence against reader, bodily harm, face fucking, spanking (for Toshi), thigh riding (for Toshi), blackmail, minor mentions of blood, bondage/rope play, reader is gender neutral, no pronouns used

Summary: You work as a popular dominant for pro heroes who need to give up control once in awhile and Yagi Toshinori is one of your best clients. But when word gets out to the media about your involvement with pros, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Though you quickly discover All Might does not take kindly to anyone who threatens his reputation.

It was all about the exchanging of power.

About the relinquishing of control—about letting go and the freedom that came with it.

And you?

You were just there to facilitate, to take over, to release all those bottled up years of stress that the camera’s weren’t supposed to see.

But you did.

You saw all of it.

It was about trust too. Trust in you to give them what they need and trust in them to do exactly as you instructed. And most of all, trust that everything stayed confidential. That the things said through tears and whimpers and sighs were kept quiet. Trust that they would show you the same respect and privacy you showed them.

You took these rules very seriously. They were the foundation your business was built on and it had earned you quite a lot of credibility. You prided yourself on it, as you should. Professionalism was key in your line of work. It made the clients feel a bit more comfortable—counteracted the sense of taboo that was usually associated with people like you.

People in “your line of work,” was the common way of referencing it. But you preferred to be clear and upfront, not skirt around the edges as though your job was something shameful.

Language was important too.

“Client,” “session,” etc...all added a buffering degree of separation for those you serviced. It was a crucial part of the balance which has allowed you to be so successful. They needed to be able to remove themselves from who they became once you were alone together. You’d learned that some amount of plausible deniability was key to achieving the complete relinquishing of authority. They had to be able to convince themselves after they’d walked away, that the crying, begging mess they’d become wasn’t who they really were—wasn’t actually a part of them, just something you’d done.

And by them, of course, you meant the heroes you served so dutifully.

And by serve, you meant completely and utterly dominate.

Contradictory to most common misconceptions, your job wasn’t always about sex—though it could be and was at time—but truly, it was about release.

And above all, it was about power and who got to hold it.

When that structure was broken—when the rules were strayed from—that’s when things got murky. But you were good at what you did, so luckily, that hadn’t been much of an issue.

What more could one expect from someone whose services are sought out by the Symbol of Peace himself?

Hm.

You really ought to get that put on your business cards.

***

It was late when he came to you, though that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Occasional hero work coupled with a teaching schedule and numerous media appearances left one very little free time. Fortunately, you conducted most of your business during the small hours of the morning, so Yagi Toshinori showing up at your door as the clock ticked its way past two wasn’t a shock.

You fell into the usual rhythm of things easily.

Toshi was one of your newest, but most favorite clients. You came highly recommended from many of his coworkers, and after an initial meeting over drinks to discuss his needs, you struck up a routine that worked for the both of you.

Of course he paid you handsomely for your time.

Constantly being in the public eye, acting as an unwavering representation of hope for the future was tiring. You were more than happy to take the weight off his very broad shoulders for once.

And bend him over your knee instead.

“Five,” he panted, whimpers of thanks and your name spilling out around his loose tongue as your hand connected sharply with the meat of his ass again.

You always asked to be called by name, no frilly titles to get in the way and complicate the dynamic. When they walked into your space, they set aside their hero personas and you afforded them the same intimacy.

Names meant something. Names were power and so they mattered, particularly in this game you played together. Equality had to be achieved before domination.

“Good boy Toshi, you’re doing so well,” you cooed and brought your palm down twice, watching the skin on the backs of his thighs bloom pink like sakura in the spring.

“S-six, seven,” there was a wet spot forming under his mouth on the sheets and on your lap where his cock was bare and leaking. “Ah, please—harder!”

You raised your brow as he turned his head to look at you with those teary, dark eyes and you could never resist a look like that.

“You want it harder, why’s that?” you wound back and smacked roughly over the raised welts that made him hiss and sob. “Is this what you deserve for being so weak?”

He may have been thin now, skeletal compared to the face he showed the public, but you didn’t mind. He trusted you enough to let his guard down, and his weight was still thick and full across your legs. It was invigorating to see a man like All Might, reduced to this. Whatever pent up guilt he carried inside, you were here to help let it all out in the best way you knew how.

“Yes!” Toshi cried and buried his face into the plush fabric of your comforter as you delivered the last three harsh blows of the punishment he paid you for. “Fuck yes, I’m weak and I’m a failure and I deserve this—!”

“That’s right, you’re a piss poor excuse for a hero and you haven’t earned your title,” you wrapped two thick locks of his hair around your hand and yanked hard till he craned his neck to face you. “What would the world say if they could see what a sobbing mess you are when no one’s looking?”

He opened his mouth to speak, hips twitching and grinding uselessly against your thigh. The second that plush pink tongue dipped past his lips, you were rearing back to spit straight between his teeth.

Toshi’s face was always priceless in these moments. You’d almost be willing to do it for free if you only got to see the way his brows shot up and those red rimmed eyes blew so wide as you steeled yourself and looked him dead on.

“Now, swallow like the little bitch I know you are.”

And he did, of course he does, because behind your bedroom door Yagi Toshinori was your good boy. So you got to watch his throat bob as your spit slid down and he moaned so pretty at the awful things you said to him.

Your palm kneaded against the red, raw flesh of his ass and you watched how he squirmed at the sting. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and expensive cologne. Your head was spinning from the smell alone and the high of the control you wielded over this man. His hands fisted hard in your bed sheets and you let him helplessly rut against you a few times before running your free hand up the graceful curve of his spine.

“Oh, you really are so disgusting Toshi,” you mused as your nails dig into the planes of muscles to drag angry red lines over the skin. “Did you really get that hard from me slapping this tight little ass of yours?”

He groaned pathetically and nodded, not bothering to hide how his dick had been oozing obscene amounts of precum every time you etched a new welt on his skin. The blush that crept up his chest and painted his cheeks had spread between his legs too. The unfairly massive cock that Toshi sported was flushed a dark angry red at the tip and you couldn’t help but have mercy on him.

Well, only a little bit.

You weren’t here to be nice tonight, even if a part of you might have liked to be.

“Do you want to cum, Toshi?” you asked, lacing your voice with the false sweetness you knew he loved. “Have you been aching for it all night?”

He keened, crying your name and rutting his hips harder against you. It sent a rush of warmth between your legs despite your better efforts to remain unaffected. This wasn’t about you, this was about ownership and his pleasure.

“Mhmm,” his voice was little more than a rasp, “wanna cum so bad, please!”

You laughed, but it was a cruel thing and you knew he could feel the rumble of it in his scarred chest.

“You did so perfectly taking your punishment,” you raked your nails over the raised handprints again just to hear him cry out. “I suppose I’ll let you cum, but you’ll have to work for it.”

Toshi’s breathing was ragged as you helped him up to straddle one of your legs. His swollen cock rested on the plushest part of your thigh, the tip nudging your hip and drawing choked gasps from the man towering above you.

He stared down at you, confused when you didn’t move to stroke him.

“Go on, then,” you smiled up at him, resting your weight on your palms so you could lean back and watch the show. “I said you’d have to work for it, didn’t I?”

You punctuated your question with a bounce of your knee that rocked his length against the fabric of your pants. It didn’t take long for him to catch on, eyes squeezing shut against the waves of shame and embarrassment that just made it so much hotter as he slowly began to ride your thigh.

He might be paying you to be ruthless, but Toshi was kind to a fault from what you’ve learned of him and he ke[t most of his massive weight held on the balls of his feet so you weren’t crushed below him. Under any other circumstances, you might have actually enjoyed that quite a bit, but his face—cherry red with spit-slicked lips held parted with the force of his pants—was enough for now.

His cock was so heavy you almost couldn’t believe it was real. You nearly didn’t the first time he’d stripped for you, but even just the drag of it through your clothes was delectable. It was so long and thick you needed both hands to wrap fully around it, and he gushed like a fucking gieser when you got him under your metaphorical boot.

With every rock of his bony hips, his length was forced up against the curve of your stomach and he whined at the glistening strands of slick that connected his tip to you.

“Come on, Toshi,” you clicked your tongue disappointedly at him, letting a hand fall to the puckered skin at his waist, squeezing harshly. “I know you can do better than that.”

He was beyond words now, you could tell by the way his jaw was loose and his teeth clacked with every thrust, but he did gasp out a long, high pitched moan that made up for it. The speed of his humping increased, becoming erratic as he hunched on the bed, hands beside yours. He loomed over you but anyone could tell just by the composed, serene smile playing at your lips—and the absolutely wrecked noises spilling from Toshi—just which one of you was really in control.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You knew he liked it when you spewed filth to him right before he boiled over and you were more than willing to oblige.

“You’re gonna cum like a fucking teenager humping his pillow, isn’t that right?” you snarled the words up at him and he really did cry then, big fat tears dripping down onto your shirt. “All Might, the number one hero is gonna cum all over my lap like the slut he is.”

He nods frantically. You know his balls were tensing up as he sobbed and spluttered—completely ruined. Just the way he needed to be.

“Then cum.”

You finally wrapped your fist just around his aching tip and he exploded into your palm. Rope after rope of sticky, white release coated your arm and dripped onto the bed. He kept grinding his hips, working himself through the climax, cock still pulsing and leaking in your grip. You didn’t mind the mess.

He always tipped a bit extra if he left stains anyway.

Such a gentleman.

When the last wave of his orgasm had petered out, Toshi collapsed to the side with his face buried in your pillow and his long legs still strewn across your lap. He didn’t usually ask for much in the realm of aftercare, preferring that you cleaned him and let him rest for a bit before he suited up and rushed off into the night.

You gave him a minute before you got up to wet a warm cloth in the sink. He looked so destroyed, you couldn’t help but admire your handiwork. As you palm his ass once more, fingers spreading him so his pink hole was on display, you slipped your phone silently from your pocket, and snapped a few shots of the nasty red hand marks and smears of cum as he groaned deeply at the touch.

His voice was lower as he grunted and you could tell he’s coming out of the subspace you’d thrust him into hours before. Quickly you slid the device smoothly away before lifting his legs from you and settling them gently on the bed to work on tidying up your mess.

You didn’t feel particularly good about keeping this kind of collateral, but as much power as you hold in the four walls of your bedroom, you were frustratingly weak once you left them. These men you worked with, while generally professional, were also top heroes. Top heroes who really didn’t want their embarrassing private lives getting out. Top heroes who thrived off reputation and who would willingly throw you under the bus in a second to protect that.

You liked Yagi Toshinori.

But you didn’t know him.

Smacking someone’s ass or stroking their cock every few weeks didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things.

So you kept your personal insurance that would be there should one of your clientele decide to forsake you in favor of their public image. And you would never use it unless you absolutely had too.

After all, this was about trust and power and the exchange of those two things. Or at least it was supposed to be. Trust was quite a subjective thing.

The general citizenry trusted All Might to protect them against the growing evil in Japan’s underground. But behind the scenes, you knew his failing health had caused him to seek you out as the intense guilt of his lie came crashing down on him.

Toshi trusted you to relieve his pain and indulge in his degrading fantasies, and you hadn’t failed him yet.

But your trust was not easily bought, and none of your customers ever paid much mind to whether your perceived belief in them was genuine.

After so many glimpses into the messes of pro-heroes personal lives, you knew you’d have to be your own protector. Hence, the photos remained in a locked folder hidden away as you sat yourself down next to the dozing hero and wiped away as much evidence of your meeting as you could.

“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly, lathing the warm cloth between his legs and softening length.

“Good, all things considered,” he responded, voice returned to it’s normal, deep baritone.

“I sincerely hope you won’t have to do much sitting tomorrow,” you quipped and it earned you a chuckle.

“I’ll manage.”

You rolled him gently and finished clearing the rest of his spend from the flat expanse of his stomach. Toshi mumbled his thanks and you gave his thigh a friendly squeeze before retreating from the room to shower and change yourself.

He’d be gone by the time you got out, notification of payment on your phone and a sizable tip left on your dresser as a parting gift.

And as long as Yagi Toshinori was just as good a boy on the outside as he was here, then the world would never need to know what their Symbol of Peace got up behind your closed doors.

***

“All Might! Mister All Might, sir!”

The grating voice of that shithead reporter echoed through the speakers of your headphones over and over again. Your hand shook as the train stuttered to a halt and a wave of passengers burst out onto the platform.

“All Might, are the rumors true!?”

Your stomach sank as the reporter shouted your name above the ruckus of microphones and camera flashes and roaring bodies. Their voice was like chalk on your tongue, dry and cracked and clamoring to know whether the Symbol of Peace was involved with the recently revealed ‘seedy’ and ‘scandalous’ sex ring between yourself and multiple top ranking heroes.

You’d been out having a relaxing lunch with friends in the city when everyone’s phones blew up. It wasn’t that you hid the general details of your job, but by the looks on their faces were enough to make your face burn. The judgement was clear—what you did was abhorrent, disgusting and by extension, so were you. Reporters had caught you on camera with a certain second ranking pro and very quickly deduced exactly who you were and what services you offered.

The tabloids took it and ran, dragging your reputation behind them.

Call after call and text, dms on your social media pages, all from news outlets requesting interviews or quotes or hero fans calling you a ‘shameless whore’ for going after pros—hell death threats had even begun to fill your inboxes.

Hero fans really were ride or die, you supposed, although the ‘die’ in that scenario seemed to refer more to you than themselves. They would never believe their precious big boy crush had ever associated with the likes of you, had ever willingly kneeled for you—had ever enjoyed it.

They couldn’t understand the things you did, all they saw was some false emasculation.

And if it came out that Toshinori had any contact with you, his career would be ruined.

You had hoped from the little you’d learned about him in your sessions, that he’d simply deny knowing you existed at all. That he’d have mercy on you, treat you like the thousand helpless civilians he pulled from burning buildings or whatever the hell heroes did these days.

But you’d been right before to say that you didn’t know Toshi.

And now you certainly didn’t like him either.

“Are you one of the pros involved?” the reporter hounded again as All Might’s massive form panned into frame.

“As your Symbol of Peace, I certainly do not partake in such degenerate behavior,” his words rang out, deep and resonating. “I would never associate with someone who’s actions border on criminal.”

The dark, soulless pits he called eyes stared mockingly from your tiny screen as his signature laugh reverberated through your ears along with the train’s clacking breaks. You ripped the headphones from your ears and closed out of the app, ducking your head and pushing towards the door. Everyone’s eyes were drilling into you, worming deep under your skin and making you squirm like so many of those heroes had done on your silk sheets.

Rationally, you were aware not many people would have seen the story yet. Tabloid trash took a day or two to disseminate into the general social media outlets and for people to take notice. Your friends only knew because your name stuck out to them, but you were hardly recognizable in your typical citizen attire. Even still.

Your life, your work, all of it was on display.

And he’d called you a degenerate.

The infallible All Might had taken your name and tossed it in the guttered, likened you to a villain and single handedly destroyed everything you’d built in the process.

Years of effort and crawling your way up the ranks of society all for nothing.

All so some washed up hero could keep his fantasy of success going for just a little longer. Toshi trusted you with his secrets, his weakness, his body, and you’d defended that at every turn. The only thing he had to do was pay a small fee for your time and discretion.

But no amount of money could fix your toppled character. Nothing could reverse your place as a disgusting slut in the eyes of literal millions of people.

Bold of Yagi Toshinori to underestimate you so thoroughly, to think that you’d sit back in the rubble as he rescued cats and little kids and lived his delusion of perfection.

This was about trust and power.

When those lines were crossed, that’s when things got messy.

And you’d make sure to leave so big a mess, Toshi would never dream of coming back from it.

***

Your apartment building was thankfully free of any press when you arrived home. It had been a few days since All Might instigated your public slander, but the mass media hadn’t managed to track you down after you went into a short period of hiding.

You needed time to let all your other clients involved in the scandal play their cards.

There would be no use in condemning one just to have them warn the rest of their equally impending doom. That way you could be assured they’d all come crashing down with you. Especially the blonde poster boy of hero society himself.

His would be the sweetest fall.

It had been long enough now that you could start compiling. You locked the door behind you, shrugging off your coat and settling on the couch. The plush cushions sank as you fell back, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your contacts. Toshi was there, two red and blue hearts on either side of his name. You pulled up his text thread.

You’d thought about going public of course.

Of course you had.

Your entire career had been trashed, you’d been shamed by the number one hero himself and your personal life was blasted over social media.

But you were human, so you were weak.

And you had liked Toshi.

Well, you hated him now—a deeply dark, burning resentment—but before that, he’d been so sweet to you in a way that most were not. Respectful and nice and you were unused to it. So, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to eradicate his credibility in the same outright manner.

No, you had decided you’d give him a chance.

Because you were better than him.

A chance to atone, come clean, apologize the way you’re sure he would if his public image wasn’t so goddamn important to him. So you didn’t reach out to any of the media outlets that had been hounding your socials for the past week, and didn't offer them the inside scoop quite yet. Instead, you stared at the handsome contact photo of your hero client and slowly typed him up a message he couldn’t ignore.

It was short and sweet, polite but firm. You acknowledged he most certainly did not want to speak with you—in fact, you weren’t very inclined to speak with him ever again either—but you happened to be in possession of some fairly compromising photographic evidence of your time together. And if that evidence were ever to, say, end up in the pocket of the exact scandal rag that sent voice clips of All Might all but denouncing you as a whore to the nation, well. Things would certainly not end well for him.

But, you were nothing if not professional.

He knew that.

You never wanted to use these, but he had forced your hand. Of course you were more than willing to work out a deal with him.

He was your favorite client after all.

In any case, he knew how to reach you, and he had a generous 48 hours to give you an answer to your proposition.

Oh and you were kind enough to provide a little snapshot of just exactly the type of evidence you meant.

Your thumb hovered over the little blue arrow to send. The phone clacked against your nails as it shook in your grip, slick from sweat and frayed nerves. You couldn’t quite tell if you were anxious or angry or some awful combination of the two, but your heart was in your throat as you shut your eyes and pressed send.

There was no going back, and if this all came tumbling to the ground, you promised yourself that you would shatter gracefully.

Letting the screen go dim, you stared in silence at the small check mark confirming the message had been delivered and your fate sealed. You pulled yourself to your feet and made your way to the bedroom.

He’d get back to you soon, or maybe he wouldn’t. You couldn’t know for sure whether or not Toshi would simply ignore your texts and be blindsided when the deadline passed and you destroyed him all over again in a far less enjoyable manner than you used to. But whatever the case, it was out of your hands for now.

With aching feet and tired eyes, you stripped slowly and stumbled towards the bathroom. Turning the water to just below scalding, you did your best to scrub away any pesky remaining guilt that clung to you in a thin, suffocating film.

You told yourself that there was no other choice. That you would have found another way if there was one. That this was how business often went. You had seen it before when you first entered in the field of sex work and you’d see it again. So you scrubbed yourself raw and let all your doubts trickle down the drain.

Tonight, you would sleep restlessly, but it was a fair enough burden to carry for your honor.

You were foolish to believe the cost of revenge wouldn’t bear a heftier price.

***

You woke slowly, trapped momentarily in the strange limbo between sleep and consciousness that fooled you into thinking the strange tightness at your wrists was nothing more than a leftover side effect of a dream.

The reality was so much worse.

It wasn’t until you felt the blunt, radiating sting of knuckles backhanded against your cheek that the haze of sleep fell away, and you could truly appreciate the scene before you.

Which was to say, you could take the opportunity to scream before Yagi Toshinori’s fingers were shoved down your throat to muffle the noise. He was large, shirt seams full to bursting, and sporting an expression you’d never seen before. His eyes, while always dark, were like holes now and they filled you with an unfamiliar sense of dread.

He’d called you a villain before, and now he was looking at you like one too.

“Oh no,” Toshi hissed. His voice was impossibly deep, reverberating against your ribs painfully, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you.”

One quick bout of struggling made it very apparent he didn’t want you moving either as your wrists had been bound behind your back and your ankles were similarly immobilized. The fingers in your mouth pressed hard on your tongue, his thumb pushing below your chin to make you choke and splutter.

“You really let all that power get to your head, didn’t you?” Toshi’s voice was buzzing in your ears and mingling with the pain in your jaw. He put one massive knee on the mattress and hooked his fingers behind your teeth, forcing you to sit up from the bed.

You could feel your face burn as he looked down at you, drool slipping passed your lips and coating his fingers. The straining bulge in his pants looked even bigger than you remembered now that he was no longer the slip of a man you’d come to know as Yagi Toshinori.

No this was All Might, the Symbol of Peace.

And you got the feeling that whatever was about to happen, it was not going to be peaceful for you.

He had you tied and trussed like a piece of meat, and he would treat you like one. You’d seen this before, you’d tied these knots—he’d been where you were now, but he’d asked for it. The loss of control was never something you’d delighted in on a good day, and now the rising pressure in your chest and the sensation of walls closing had panic coursing through you.

“Did you really think that I’d come back here willing to grovel at your feet?” he jeered, the trademark smile on his face more snarl than grin.

He shook your jaw violently in his grasp, listening to the joints pop as they tried to stretch around his thick fingers. Your name left his mouth in a mock coo, just as you had done to him so many nights before. “Remember, you might get to call me a bitch but it’s only because I let you.”

Your hands trembled violently against the bonds which tore the delicate skin and rubbed it raw. Toshi’s free hand traveled along his thigh to rub himself through his pants, his knuckles brushing your nose as he bucked into his palm.

“But now you’ve stepped out of line,” he mused and clicked his tongue as though you were a student who’d done poorly on his latest exam. “And I’m going to make sure that whore mouth of yours never utters my fucking name again.”

Eyes wide with horror, you watched as Toshi’s fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his slacks until his cock had sprung free, monstrous in length and girth, dripping onto your forehead.

You’d seen it before, but it seemed bigger now. So big that you’d never been able to take it, and Toshi had been staunchly against you ever trying lest he quite literally split you in two. But any kindness he’d shown you before was clearly off the table. His fingers pumped in and out of your throat as if preparing you somehow to take the stretch. It wouldn’t help. You knew that. He knew that.

Toshinori smiled as he removed his fingers in favor of digging the spit slicked digits into the joints of your jaw, ensuring you wouldn’t bite down on him as he pressed the spongy tip to your lips. The panic that had set in—making your blood rush and your limbs shake—was constricting your chest and the pressure of Toshi’s dick pushing past your teeth made your breathing even more erratic.

You whimpered loudly, trying to wrench your head away as the strong salt and musk flavor of his pre cum spread across your tongue, but that only made him thrust forward harder. His length quickly hit resistance back of your throat as you gagged and tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

The ache in your jaw was already unbearable and your bottom lip was being rubbed raw by warm spit and the friction of Toshi roughly fighting to sink his dick fully into your mouth.

“Mm, that’s it,” he groaned as you inadvertently licked over his tip, trying to force him away. “You look so much better like this.”

He ran a falsely sweet hand across your cheek, collecting the stream of tears and using the moisture to slick the rest of his length. Your chest heaved in a mixture of gags and increasingly violent sobbing. You were stretched painfully wide as he rolled his hips again, pushing the thickest bit of his cock into your mouth and forcing your teeth to dig painfully into your upper lip. With the next thrust, he was able to sink another excruciating inch deep into your throat. Blood rushed from where you bit yourself and caused crimson streaks to form as Toshi fucked slowly into your mouth.

Your mind was slipping.

You’d had so little time to process the encounter, so instead your brain had secluded most of your consciousness into a precious little box, away from the intense burning in your throat as Toshi finally sank all of his innumerable inches completely into you. Your throat bulged and protested, tightening in an attempt to force him out.

It only made him moan loudly and dig his fingers into your hair.

“See?” he huffed, pulling out at an agonizing pace only to ram his length in roughly to the hilt. “I’d never lie to my public, you really are just as much of a slut as they say you are.”

You shrieked around his cock, though it was muffled so badly by the lack of air and the wet slap of his constant thrusting that no one but you could hear the screaming in your own head. The pain was unbearable, this awful friction burning sensation that had your stomach churning and your chest wracked with stifled cries. Your bound legs kicked and your fingers grasped useless at the sheets as Toshi fucked your mouth reckless abandon.

Time blurred along with your vision, whether from the lack of oxygen or the tears you weren’t sure.

And most horrifyingly of all, was the pleasure that grew as your mind drowned the pain in darkness. You felt as though you were floating, disgusted but euphoric and the slide of him against your lips became delicious. Heat rose in you and built between your legs accompanied by a distant and unfamiliar ache to please, to be touched, to taste him, to obey.

You wondered if this was how he felt when you forced his mouth on you. If he slid into this strange space where your mind was a separate entity and the only thing that mattered was the pain and the pleasure and the release.

Because somehow, in the midst of your struggle and revulsion, he’d made this strange, incorporeal part of you enjoy this.

All the fight had drained out of you, letting your jaw hang slack and your tongue flick up to catch his tip on every backstroke. Your eyes flitted up to look at him through the haze of tears and sweat, hoping strangely that he’d be pleased with you. And the groan you earned yourself was delectable.

You gave in, then. Let yourself be swept away by the rushing of blood in your ears and the rhythm of Toshi tearing you apart.

At some point, you could distantly feel his thrusts becoming more erratic, turning into a rough grinding in your mouth.

You couldn’t even taste it when he came, his cock was too obscenely deep in your neck, but the warmth of it burned your bleeding throat and filled your belly with a hot finality.

You weren’t even afforded the dignity of spitting his seed onto the floor where it belonged, ignoring the searing voice in your head that revealed in being rewarded with his essence.

When Toshi finally pulled out and tucked himself away, your head fell limply to your chest. A series of violent coughs erupted from you as a thick, viscous mixture of blood and spit and cum dripped from your tongue.

Those impossibly large hands gripped your chin once again, forcing you to look up into those piercing black eyes.

“Now, you’re never going to speak about me again,” he wasn’t asking but you glared up at him as his hand fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone.

The device was comically small in those hands of his as he aimed it at your ruined face and snapped a picture—the flash blinding you while he reached around and roughly undid the knotted rope keeping you in place.

“Because if you do, I’ll make sure those reporters know everything I said about you was nothing but the truth.”

The loudest part of you wanted to scream, to punch and bite and tell him it wasn’t. That you were a professional, with self-respect and dignity and you were good and your job, but—

But when you opened your sore and aching jaw to shout, nothing came out.

No sound, no yell, no words.

Just this awful rasp that made your throat feel like pins were sticking into the abused flesh.

“Well, looks like I might not need this after all,” Toshi dangled the phone in front of your face before pocketing it once again. “Looks like you won’t be saying much of anything for a good long while.”

And then Yagi Toshinori left.

He turned on his heel and walked out as you toppled off the bed behind him, trying so hard to scream despite the pain and the ripping in your chest—whether they were curses or cries for him to stay, you weren’t sure.

But there was nothing either way.

So you sat and screamed in silent agony at his retreating form until the sound of a door slamming rang out through your home.

It seemed that in all your years of playing this game, you’d finally been toppled off your tightrope.

Because you were good at your job, so you knew. It was all about the exchange of power, and yours had just been thoroughly stripped away.

#all might x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori x reader #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw blackmail #dark all might #dark yagi toshinori #mha smut #all might smut #mha x reader #mha fanfic #bee.writes

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mod-kyoko · 3 years

Note

Okay um, here goes nothing, could i request a Nsfw fic of makoto with a Dom! male!S/o (if not then just a Fem!S/o) who takes His anger Out thru Spanking Bic Mac, and one day he has a terrible day at Work, and Goes all out on Makoto when he gets home.

hiya flsjdfjfhsl thank you for the request fldkdgkgjsb

fun fact: this is my first time writing smut on this blog, but i do have experience writing it so no worries

this is gonna be fun to write >:]

side note: the request said nothing about actual se* but i wanted to write it anyway, so i will just warn you when the actual se* starts just in case that's not what you wanted!! other than that, there are a lot of suggestive themes beforehand, and if that's not what you wanted then i wouldn't mind rewriting it!!

***remember*** makoto naegi is an adult

CW: straightup smut, spanking, male reader, male anatomy, oral, fingering, anal, degradation, lil bit of fluff at the end

makoto x dom!male!reader

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

everyone has those days that are just the absolute worst. frustrating people, frustrating jobs. though, not everyone has such a cute little toy at their disposal for when they have days like this. for you, work was much more difficult than usual this particular day. you had gotten in trouble for something another employee had done, and it was just this big mess. thankfully, you had only been reprimanded for it, but of course, the anger and frustration was still there. luckily, you knew just how your anger would find its release tonight.

before you began your drive home, you picked up your phone to text your boyfriend.

'had a bad day. you know what that means. be ready.'

after setting your phone down, you shifted in gear, and began the drive home. a deep sigh rumbled from your throat as your head was already filled with lewd images of what tonight would look like. halfway home, you felt your pants tightening around you, a bulge forming in your crotch. every image of your pretty little boyfriend gagging with your cock down his throat made you even harder, eager to get home. the ride was almost too long to bear, and by the time you had unlocked the door to your house, you were painfully hard and sweltering hot.

makoto was nowhere to be found, which probably meant he was already waiting for you in your room as you demanded. you slammed the door shut in eagerness and sexual frustration, letting him know you were home. you quickly strode towards your shared bedroom, welcomed by a blushing, naked makoto kneeling on the bed.

a smirk spread onto your face as you stepped towards him, shutting the door behind you. reaching out to ruffle his hair, you leaned into his ear. "good boy. you'll get a treat for that later. but for now, i need to take out my anger." the blush on makoto's cheeks spread rapidly as he furiously nodded. you settled onto the bed behind him, reaching your hands around his throat.

"are you ready?" you asked your small boyfriend, groping his perky round ass. with a nod, he bent over your lap. with a slight chuckle, you brought your hand up, then brought it down with full force, smacking his cheek. a loud, strangled cry rang from his lips, his legs already shaking.

"count," you growled into his ear, massaging his sore skin.

"one," he whispered, gritting his teeth.

you hit him again with the same amount of force, a high-pitched moan escaping his lips this time. "two!" he called out, panting as you brought your hand up yet again. by the third spanking, you noticed your boyfriend's dick had gotten hard, bouncing with every hit. your own bulge started throbbing under your clothing. you couldn't wait.

"you need more?" you asked him, pinching his bruised ass.

"p- please," his voice shook, a breathy moan falling out through his mouth as you spanked him again and again, each time earning a wince and a cry. by the time you reached fifteen, you decided he had enough, so you picked him up by the waist and sat him up next to you. a few tears had escaped his puffy eyes, but the moaning you heard earlier seemed to mean he was enjoying it.

**schmex starts hereee**

with a devilish grin, you grabbed his face harshly in your hand, bringing it towards your lips. your mouths crashed against each other in a sloppy, wet kiss. makoto whined into your mouth, his hands reaching for your clothed bulge. you grabbed his hand before he could touch you, squeezing it hard.

"did i tell you you could do that? do you want to be spanked again?" you whispered, causing a shiver to go down his spine. he shook his head, whimpering a little bit.

"please," he could barely meet your eyes, instead staring down at his knees. your eyes trailed down to his hardened dick that was practically begging for attention, precum leaking out the top of it's pink head.

"is that all you know how to say, slut? god, you're such a whore for me, yeah? you want me?" you teased, guiding him to kneel on all fours. he eagerly stared up at you, mouth wide open. taking your zipper into your hands, you slowly unzipped your pants, feeling a big freer. after sliding your pants off, along with your underwear, your hard cock springing free from it's cloth prison, almost hitting makoto in the face.

"suck," you commanded, glaring down at makoto.

you didn't have to tell him twice.

first, he licked up the length of your shaft, grabbing onto it. the sensation of his fingers grasping you like that sent an electrifying feeling up through your abdomen, earning a slight sigh from you. leaning your head back, you felt makoto take in your entire length between his lips, his thick saliva coating it as the inside of his throat bobbed around it. you finally let out a moan, as he gagged around you. but it wasn't enough.

you grasped onto makoto's hair, yanking it forward and thrusting your dick into his mouth, drowning out his cries with your moans as your length went in and out of him at rapid speed.

"you're doing such a good job for me baby, oh god yes," you praised him, thrusts slowing down as you felt a knot form in your stomach. suddenly, you took yourself out if his mouth, a long string of saliva pouring out through his lips, his tongue lolling out of the side. he was a bit gone after being throat-fucked like that. you gave him a light smack on his ass and he bounded back to life, whimpering.

"ass in the air, now," you demanded, hands on his hips. he complied immediately, silently getting on all fours, his ass poking up in the air. to prepare him, you reached for his mouth. "lick my fingers." he took them into his mouth graciously, covering them in his spit. you then brought your fingers up to his hole, rubbing it around the rim to tease him. he immediately clenched up, anticipating the pleasure.

"please, s/o!" he yelled out.

"you keep saying that. please, what?"

the blush returned to makoto's cheeks as he muttered. "please finger me," he shyly answered, clutching the bedsheets below him.

your middle finger penetrated him first, only halfway, before you pulled it out. for the millionth time that night, a smirk made its way onto your face as you continued doing just that, causing your boyfriend to squirm in front of you.

"you want my fingers so bad, huh? you want me to finger fuck you until you collapse? can my little slut handle that?" you teased, sliding in two fingers instead of one. makoto gasped, his hole clenching around them, a wet squelching noise coming from his ass as you pumped your fingers in and out, getting faster, and faster...

you added a third finger. his moans got louder, begging for release as your fingers came to a stop, deep inside him. you slowly pulled them out, making sure to leave him in agonizing desire, slapping his hole. he let out a yelp as you picked him up again, flipping him over on his back.

you took your cock eagerly, and rubbed the head around his hole, pushing it inside slowly. the two of you moaned in unison, his insides clenching around you, your dick throbbing with heat.

"oh yeah, you feel so good," you sighed, giving him a moment to adjust. makoto grabbed your hand, letting you know he was ready. with a low whine, you started thrusting yourself into him, hiking his legs up for more access. you watched his body bounce up and down as you forcefully pushed inside him, in and out, ruthlessly picking up the pace.

"fa- faster!" he screamed, moans echoing throughout the room as you grunted, in and out. once again, you felt that familiar knot in your abdomen, that feeling of something building up inside you. makoto screamed under you as he felt his climax build up as well, clenching around you as he cried.

finally, you felt you were about to come undone.

"i'm gonna cum, baby you're doing so good."

"i'm gonna cum too!"

with one last deep grunt, the knot came undone, your cum forcefully spilling out of your cock and into your boyfriend's little hole, all of your muscles relaxing after your release. shortly after, makoto's moans reached their loudest as his own liquids spilled out onto his stomach, his breathing raggedy and uneven. you grinned down at him, cupping his face in your hand. dragging your thumb across his cheek, you leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his lips.

"i love you makoto," you come back up from the kiss, pulling out of him. you marvel at the sight of him on his back, covered in your release, such a lewd face. since he looks tired, you get off the bed to go fetch a wet towel. you come back to find that his eyes are half closed, looking like he might fall asleep.

"go to sleep, baby," you reassured him, patting him on the head as you wiped up the mess all over his body. once he was clean, you tossed the wet rag into a basket, and laid down beside him. after draping the blankets over the both of you, you placed another kiss to his temple, before closing your eyes.

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

that's all i have to say, just :0

kidding, i have more. uh,,, WOW. that was so fun to write, and i am by no means a makoto simp but even i was tingling a bit during that- okay tmi mod kyoko.

(i'm very sorry BAHAHA)

hope you liked it :]

-mod kyoko

#mod kyoko #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #thh #trigger happy havoc #makoto naegi #makoto naegi x reader #danganronpa smut #dra fluff #smut #cw smut #smut cw #male reader #dom!reader

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eclecticmiasma · 4 years

Text

Egyptian Heat (Jotaro x Reader)

🖤 🖤 Finally finished the giveaway fic for the ever patient @fyre23 🖤 🖤

It’s a battle between one of the world’s most powerful stand users and one skimpy article of clothing.

NSFW

Art credit: 零＠通販始めた on Pixiv

As soon as you exited the shop, you knew you had Jotaro wrapped around your finger. Though stone-faced as always, the slight catch in his throat and dust of pink across his features gave you all the reaction you needed. Kakyoin stood next to you hiding a mischievous grin through a veneer of innocence. After all, he was the one who helped you decide which sundress would test the angsty, black-clad target of your affection’s resolve the most.

“Oh! Mon Cherie, you better be careful showing off those legs!” For once, you were grateful for Polnareff’s gratuitous flirting. It only served to draw Jotaro’s eyes to the scandalously short hemline of your yellow and white garment. He swallowed thickly.

Though you and Jotaro had a heart to heart one starry night in the desert and even shared a soft kiss, there wasn’t much opportunity for your relationship to progress beyond subtle displays of affection. Between stand attacks and close sleeping quarters, finding a moment to dispel the emotional and sexual tension blooming between you just hadn’t been in the cards. It wasn’t until you confided in Kakyoin that he helped you hatch a rather devious plan.

Part one, get Jotaro so riled up that any qualms he had about displaying his affection would dissipate into thin air. That was going rather well, seeing as you were stuck shoulder to shoulder in the rented jeep Mr. Joestar had haggled for. You made it a point to lean forward and chat with Avdol and Mr. Joestar whenever possible, angling yourself in a way that almost had you sitting on Jotaro’s lap. It also hiked your dress up just enough for him to see a flash of your black panties. Although, they were perfectly visible through the thin fabric of your dress anyway.

Whenever you stopped for a bathroom break, you made certain to always stand in front of Jotaro. What good was a sundress if he couldn’t admire the way your silhouette shifted beneath it? Of course, you were never able to catch him staring, but the way his hat stayed continually pulled over his eyes told you everything you needed to know. The boy’s resolve was crumbling to dust.

Part two was a bit more difficult, and the most crucial. It was up to Kakyoin to lure the other men and Iggy somewhere that they would want to stay for a while. Preferably a hookah bar or restaurant. This part of the plan also necessitated that, for the first time in weeks, no stand users decided to attack the group. For that, you just had to pray.

“Mr. Joestar,” Kakyoin began around sunset, “I’ve read in an encyclopedia that the night markets of Aswan are particularly lively. I know we need to get to Cairo as soon as possible, but perhaps we might eat and rest for a bit before continuing on?” You silently thanked the bookworm for his ability to either retain information or lie through his teeth. Either way, Mr. Joestar and Polnareff were instantly intrigued, and Avdol didn’t disagree. Jotaro gave a typical noncommittal grunt.

As soon as the jeep was parked, Polnareff jumped out and started pointing at different food stalls. Kakyoin suggested they find a place with beer for Mr. Joestar, and they started to set off. You caught Jotaro’s hand just as he turned to join them.

“Actually,” You called out to the group, yawning comically loud, “I think I’m gonna take a nap. It’s impossible to sleep with you giants smashing me between you.” For the first time, Jotaro’s eyes met yours. A fire smoldered within them.

“I’m staying, too,” He stated, waving the others away, “A stand user could attack any moment.” Your heart skipped a beat. Kakyoin flashed you a knowing wink before Jotaro obscured his view as he climbed back into the jeep. The door shut, and the two of you were alone.

It was impossibly quiet. Jotaro’s aqua blue eyes held your own, his clenched jaw giving no indication of the thoughts undoubtedly running through his mind. You felt incredibly small under his gaze, and your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You started to speak, fearing you might have taken things a bit too far, but Jotaro’s warm lips slotted against your own stopped you dead in your tracks.

You melted into the kiss as Jotaro wrapped his strong arms around you, weeks of sexual tension snapping in an instant. His tongue lapped eagerly at your lips and you opened yourself to him, moaning into his mouth as he devoured you thoroughly. Seeing the normally reticent man drop his guard and give in to his base desires filled you with arousal. You grabbed the edges of his uniform and pulled him backwards so that he enveloped you completely, deepening the kiss.

As passionately as he kissed you, you could tell he was holding back. One of his hands danced at the edge of your skirt and the other hovered near your chest. It was charming, how much Jotaro refused to allow himself to relinquish control. That night, however, you wouldn’t give him the option. You had broken him thus far, what harm was there in pushing farther?

When you moved his hand to your chest, his brain short-circuited. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you red-lipped and breathless. A smirk played across your features. Sometime during the madness his signature hat had fallen to the wayside. He was stunningly handsome, his sharp jaw highlighted by his slightly curled, black hair. You would toss his hat into the Nile if it meant you could see him like that more often.

He watched your reaction as his hand moved to massage your clothed breast. Though his expression was hard to read, the way his own arousal pressed against you the moment you whimpered his name let you know he wanted it just as much as you did.

Jotaro touched you more earnestly, his thumb rubbing over the hardening nub of your nipple. Through the thinness of your sundress it almost felt like there was no fabric at all between you. His other hand hesitantly skirted beneath your dress, stopping at the edge of your now soaking panties. Jotaro swallowed hard.

“All day,” His voice caught in his throat as one of his knuckles dragged along the damp fabric at your core, “You’ve been teasing me.” You bit your lip and looked at him bashfully, trying to feign innocence.

“What do you mean? I just-” Without warning he slipped a finger beneath your underwear and let it trace your slickened folds, “I…I didn’t…” A moan escaped you as he swiftly tugged down the fabric of your dress, exposing your bare breasts to him.

“Don’t lie to me,” He ordered, teasing a finger at your entrance. You moved your hips to try and find purchase but he held you steady, “You wore this on purpose.” Your face flushed with embarrassment.

Before you could protest his thick finger pushed past your entrance, sliding inside of you with ease. You could barely stand it, being teased open like that. All you wanted was for Jotaro to hike up your dress and thrust balls deep into your core. But he refused to let you gain the upper hand.

Your back arched when his lips found your neck. Being this close to him, your nose in his hair, his must scent surrounding you, it was intoxicating. Lewd sucking sounds resounded in the jeep as he marred your flesh with deep marks. His finger continued working you open and soon you were a whimpering mess beneath him. When he was satisfied, he added a second finger, thrusting his digits painfully slowly within you. Enough to drive you wild, but not enough to stimulate you in any way that could make you climax.

“Admit it,” He mumbled into your neck, nipping at your earlobe. Part of you wondered when you had lost control of the situation, but another part of you didn’t give a shit. When all you did was groan in response, he kissed a trail down your chest and lapped at your neglected nipple. You felt a third finger slide inside of you.

“J-Jotaro,” His cock twitched against your thigh. It gave you the idea to reach down to try and unzip his pants, but he caught your wrist in no time. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, timing it with a slow thrust inside of you, “Please.”

His breath ghosted across your skin as an almost imperceptible chuckle escaped him. He let go of your nipple with a pop and sat up to gaze at your flushed face, “Admit it.”

You let out a sob of irritation and licked your lips. The way he looked at you, a calculated yet feral stare that only you were allowed to see, it made you want to give yourself to him completely.

“I did…I wore it on purpose,” As you admitted your plan, Jotaro’s pace began to quicken, “T-to make you want me and…” A particularly deep thrust had your eyes rolling back, “I-I’m so-orry!” Just as you felt your orgasm approaching Jotaro withdrew his fingers from inside of you. You whimpered pitifully at the loss.

You didn’t have much time to mourn however, as Jotaro hooked an arm around the small of your back and swiftly pulled you on top of him. With his free hand, he unzipped his pants and stroked his hardened length with his slickened fingers. He was by no means a small man, and you were thankful that he took the time to prepare you. His lip met yours once again in a tender kiss, one that conveyed Jotaro’s true, raw emotion. Although he enjoyed punishing you for torturing him all day, the soft way he held you as his lips met yours meant that behind the arousal he truly felt something real.

When your lips parted, a rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Then show me you’re sorry.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. When the head of his cock swirled in the fluid of your arousal you began to take him in immediately, wasting no time. He gripped your hips to help you along, grunting softly as your warm walls enveloped him. You pressed a kiss to his glistening forehead.

You didn’t breathe properly until you were fully seated on his length. It took a few moments to adjust to the burning stretch, but the slight pain was nothing compared to the elation of finally, finally being connected.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, placing your palms on his chest for leverage. The moment you began to move he threw his head back and bit his lip. It was a beautiful sight, and you couldn’t help but nip at the vein in his muscled neck as you rolled your hips along his member.

Slowly, you were able to ride him in earnest. Whimpers and wanton moans filled the air as you impaled yourself on his cock, gyrating your hips so that he hit the sweetest spots inside of you. When he was sure you weren’t in pain, one of his hands lifted your dress so that he could watch himself disappear inside of you.

“Fuck,” He whispered, stony expression melting into one of pure bliss. He stopped biting his lip and let his lips stay parted, breathing heavily as you bounced up and down on his length.

“Jotaro…I…” You moaned, leaning your head against his neck as you rode him, “I-I’m really close…” Something inside Jotaro snapped at your confession. His arms wrapped around you and prevented you from moving on your own. Instead, he rolled his own hips in a way that made you mewl against him, rubbing his pelvis against your clit in the process. Soon, he snapped his hips against you over and over again, edging out your release as you bounced helplessly against him.

It hit you all at once and you cried out into his chest, pleasure radiating through your body. He didn’t once stop thrusting into you, instead milking out your orgasm with near painful efficiency. You squirted on his cock as you came, soaking what he loved to remind everyone were his two hundred dollar pants.

His own climax wasn’t far behind. One of his rough hands grabbed your behind while the other gripped your hair and held you close to his chest. He pistoned into your overstimulated core, relishing the broken moans you let out against his skin as he fucked you ragged.

“[Y/n]!” He grunted, hips stuttering. You gasped as his creamy semen filled you, warmth spreading from within. His chest heaved as he spent every drop of fluid into you, his fist gripping your hair painfully.

It was an eternity before either of you were ready to move. For a moment, you considered just falling asleep on your chest with him still inside of you. Jotaro, ever responsible, took the initiative and shifted you so that he could pull out. Immediately your underwear filled with his seed and you blushed at the feeling.

Without a word he handed you his jacket to cover yourself, and you silently thanked him. He tucked his spent member back into his pants and pulled you so that your head was resting on his chest. Just as you thought he might have fallen asleep beneath you, he softly kissed your hair.

“That dress is going into the river.”

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #fanfiction #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #part 3 #stardust crusaders #vanilla #wow #minors dni #not sfw #vanilla? on this blog?#smut #fluff #fics

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sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Prologue Chapter 1

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times. Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared, momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now, Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

#creativitwins #logan sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #Roman Sanders #TS: Fall of Romulus #this features #10% more plot but 100% more logan #this is the second full fic ive ever done and the first multichapter so feedback appreciated :o

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

The Night Shadows Watching The Darkness Approaching

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: oh look, another fic in which Wilhemina cries :) This one has been sitting in my drafts for months because somehow I couldn’t let it go. It’s short and sad and I hope you’ll like it. x

Title from Come On Out by The Airbone Toxic Event.

Word count: ≈ 1 900

Something woke you in the middle of the night to find the bed empty. You reached out; the sheet was cold. Squinting in the dark, you made out the outline of Wilhemina’s pillow, creased, and of the door, half-opened. Somewhere in the house a light was on. You sighed.

You got up and walked through the darkness towards the light. It came from the living-room, whose door was slightly ajar. You took a peek inside.

Wilhemina was lying on the couch, hands folded on her stomach. Her eyes were closed and her face was contorted with pain. You noticed the bucket she had placed on the floor at arm’s length, in case the pain became too much, too much to bear just too much and she would have to throw up. Let it out one way or another.

You watched her for a minute, swallowing hard. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. It tended to do that often, since you had started dating Wilhemina.

You didn’t want to embarrass her, so you knocked on the door and waited, to give her time to compose herself. When you eventually walked in, her face was completely blank, if only slightly pale.

“Hey,” you called, forcing a smile. “You’re up late.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice was calm. “Go back to bed.”

You crouched by the couch, staring up at her. She was avoiding your gaze, resolutely scowling at the ceiling.

“Did you take your meds?” you asked after a while.

“I’m not stupid, Y/N,” she snapped.

You frowned, but didn’t snap back. Instead you rested your chin on the couch and waited.

“What can I do?” you asked.

“Go back to sleep,” Wilhemina repeated. This time, the words were uttered through gritted teeth.

“I meant to help you feel better.”

“I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

“Mina.” Her eyes flicked to your face before she scowled back up at the ceiling. “I’ll go get the hot water bottle,” you said.

She was exactly in the same position when you came back. It seemed to you her face was even paler than before, and you saw her chin tremble, once.

“Here, can you prop yourself up just a bit?” you asked gently.

She didn’t move.

“This is stupid, Y/N,” she said.

“Mina, you know it’s not. Heat really helps ease the pain. It does wonders when I have period cramps. Please.”

Carefully you helped her sit up, placed the hot water bottle on the couch, and helped her lie down again with her head in your lap. You laid one hand on her arm and gently stroked her hair with the other. “Are you feeling sleepy at all?” you whispered.

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to sing something to you, to help you pass the time?”

You had done that before, once or twice, when she had come back from work particularly pissed off. You loved to sing, and you had noticed how your voice always seemed to help her relax, even though she would probably never admit it.

“Suit yourself,” she answered in a slightly strained voice.

You thought for a second, combing your fingers through her hair. “Take my hand,” you started, voice low and soft, “take my whole life too.” Wilhemina scoffed. You held back a smile. “For I can’t help falling in love with you,” you whispered, poking her ear playfully.

Wilhemina reached for your hand on her arm and laced her fingers with yours. “Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

You gently rubbed her forehead, just as your mother used to when you had a headache. Ran one finger down her nose, patted her upper lip. Her chin trembled again. She blinked several times, swallowed.

“Mina?” You waited until she met your eyes. “It’s okay to cry when you’re hurting, you know?”

She scoffed, gave you an angry look, but her eyes immediately filled with tears as if a dam had broken.

“I won’t judge you, or think you’re weak.” You paused, gulping back tears of your own. “I think you’re so very strong all the time.”

You ran your finger over her lower lip, then up her cheek to catch a lonely tear. Wilhemina blinked quickly, raised her free hand to wipe her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said in a firm voice.

You knew how she hated showing vulnerability. She had only ever cried once in front of you. The first time you had held her close. Her body pressed against yours, her face buried in your neck, one of her legs trapped between yours, your arms wrapped tightly around her. You had heard her breath hitch and just like that she had burst into tears. As if no one had ever held her before.

You leant forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead. There was that sadness in your heart you couldn’t quite get rid of.

Wilhemina shifted to readjust her position. You combed your fingers through her hair again, gazing at her face, trying to think of something to say to try and distract her from the pain.

“Did I tell you about that article I read the other day?” you said eventually. “It was so very interesting. Some guy wrote ten pages on the Placebo effect. I didn’t know much about it.”

You rambled on, telling her about what you had learnt, until she suddenly interrupted you in a quiet, dull voice.

“My parents told me it was all in my head, too, the first few times I complained about my back pains. More than the first few times, actually. They told me I should quit being a baby and work at being stronger. When they finally took me to a doctor, it was too late to do anything about it.”

Your fingers froze in her hair.

“How long?” you asked in a breath. “How long before they took you to a doctor?”

It took her too long to answer. In the silence you heard your heart break.

“Three years and a half.”

You felt like punching something. You felt like screaming. You could have, could have jumped to your feet, could have knocked over the coffee table, thrown the bucket at the wall. But anger wasn’t what Wilhemina needed right now. She had been so alone. Never again, you promised yourself. You’d lasso the stars and bring them down and give them to her so she would always have company when you were gone.

“Go to bed,” Wilhemina repeated.

You kissed her mouth. “Not without you,” you murmured into the kiss.

She let out a small noise and lifted her head to claim more of you. She was being too harsh, too clumsy, teeth drawing blood and lips sucking on the wound, but you let her. You were grateful for the pain, for it made you feel closer to her.

One of her hands came up to tangle in your hair. “I won’t be weak,” you heard her whisper, voice angry, as her mouth launched a new attack on yours. Her nails dug into the nape of your neck. “I won’t let you rip my strength from me.”

Somewhere far away a clap of thunder growled. Wilhemina bit your upper lip. “I see what you’re trying to do,” she hissed. “Using tenderness to try and break me but I won’t let it happen, do you hear me? You won’t win. I’ll break you first.”

“Wilhemina,” you whispered – pulling away, panting, and pressing one hand on her chest to pin her against the couch.

“I’ll break you and I will scatter all the tiny pieces of you so no one after me can ever assemble them again.”

“Wilhemina,” you repeated. You leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She tried to push you away, rejecting tenderness, she tried to sit up; her fingers wrapped around your hand that held her against the couch and clawed viciously at your skin.

“I will destroy you,” she hissed.

“Mina.” A kiss to her brow. A kiss to her nose. Her lips parted on a shaky breath like the last breath a soldier draws on a battlefield.

You removed your hand from her chest and held it out in surrender. “Go ahead, then. Destroy me. I don’t mind. It’d kill me to lose you anyway. So, one way or another, you win.”

You smiled at her. For you meant it, every word of it. And it felt exhilarating. It felt like you had finally found home. No matter how dark and scary the place, no matter how full of lethal traps. You would choose her, over and over again, for no one else would do.

“Go ahead,” you repeated, laughing. “Destroy me.”

You grabbed her hand and wrapped it around your throat. Something in her eyes changed. She seemed to hesitate.

“What are you waiting for?” you cried, squeezing her fingers; you could feel your own elevated pulse through her flesh. “I’m ready. Choke the breath out of me. What are you waiting for?”

It was starting to hurt, your head was starting to buzz, but you didn’t care. You had rarely ever felt so alive.

“Stop it,” Wilhemina whispered, her eyes growing wide. She tried to free her hand from your grip, but you held it firmly around your throat.

You leaned towards her. “Don’t let me undermine you. Claim back your strength. I don’t want to rob you of what you hold dearest. Do it!”

“I said, stop!” she cried, wrenching her hand free; she turned her head to the side, and bit her lip as fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

You watched her, your whole body burning and quivering from the excitement and the love and the passion. Wilhemina gasped in a breath, wiped her cheeks fiercely. She shifted a bit, nuzzled the back of the couch, looked askance at you.

You waited a few minutes before you started combing your fingers through her hair again. She eagerly leaned into your touch.

Another clap of thunder, louder, closer. You laid your free hand on Wilhemina’s cheek at the sound, almost protectively, felt her warmth build under your fingers. She turned her head to kiss the inside of your palm and whispered, “Hold me.”

And then she was sitting up, tears dropping from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed her face against your shoulder and let out a broken sob.

You closed your eyes against the sting of tears, holding her close, trying to make her shift so her back would be as straight as possible but she pushed deeper into you, clutching the back of your shirt, hair tickling your neck.

“I don’t care,” you heard her say, small and muffled. “I don’t care. Just – hold me.”

And you did. For you had only ever seen her cry once before, the first time you had snuggled up to her, your body pressed against hers, one of her legs trapped between yours.

You held her, and stroked her hair as you listened to the thunderstorm roar in the sky, tear at the clouds and rip them to shreds and howl in pain, and then, slowly, subside.

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #fics

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moronic-validity · 3 years

Note

howdy! may i request number 6 for... i think it's surprise????? if i didnt already forget after looking thru the list 2 seconds ago 💀💀

6) “You’re got what stuck in your WHAT?”

for luigi largo please??? hope ur having a nice day! <3

Okay so this almost turned into a fic length thing...OOPS

Warnings: Well, 18+, Luigi gets his ass ate, accidents with a vibrator, Luigi saying....please?????

Gender neutral reader, as always.

The average life expectancy once being hired as a Gentern was around four and a half months. Most lasted a month or less, but then there was you. The Largo family seemed to take a liking to you and it helped you last a bit longer than a month, then a bit longer than two months, and then you had been working as a family assistant for nearly three years.

The single most important aspect to your survival was the fact that Luigi Largo took a liking to you.

No one knew why the hothead with a hairpin trigger liked you.

Luigi had demanded you leave your duties as a Gentern and take over as his personal assistant, his last one couldn’t seem to stop bleeding every time he stabbed them.

You took the position for a few reasons.

The uniform was better, you got to hang out in Luigi’s office when he didn’t have you running errands, and you got to see Luigi when he wasn’t trying to prove to the public (and his family) that he was the cut-throat that should take over Genco.

You were hanging out in his office, waiting for him to get out of a press meeting, when you got a page from Luigi that he needed you down there now.

You didn’t even bother putting on your shoes, you sprinted down the slick hallways in your socks. When Luigi said he needed something now, it usually meant he needed it 10 minutes ago and now that was your problems.

The usually boisterous man was standing sheepishly off to the side. When he saw you round the corner, he motioned you over.

Now you were worried. Luigi usually met you halfway so the two of you could discuss whatever needed to be done as you walked.

You closed the gap and he pulled you up onto your toes so he could whisper in your ear.

“Need your help, I have a…..stuck in my ….” He trailed off twice, but you were worried that you simply couldn’t hear him over the crowd.

“You’re got what stuck in your what? Mr. Largo, I didn’t catch that, could you please run it by me again?” You cringed, you knowing how much he hated repeating himself.

He gave you a look that was somewhere between disbelief and betrayal as his father called him onto the main stage to give his address.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but almost seemed less confident than usual, almost shaky. You bit your lip and tucked your hand into the pocket of your pants, trying to think about it. Then you felt the remote. It was flatter than your pager, but you very quickly realized what was stuck where. You quickly pressed the off button on the remote, and Luigi seemed to straighten up a bit more and regain some of his fire.

As soon as he was done, he took your arm and more or less dragged you back to his office. Once the door was shut, he let go of you and started unbuckling his pants.

“I have a vibrator stuck in my ass,” he said. He was quiet, but it was clear he was pissed. “Now, if you could do your fucking job and ASSIST me-“ he was cut off by the powerful vibrations deep in his nether regions. His voice caught in his throat.

“Say please,” you said it with a smile, knowing he would beat you like a dog once he was out of his predicament.

Luigi looked as though he could murder you.

“Please.” It came out a hoarse whisper, but you heard it loud and clear.

You were on your knees behind him, pulling his suit pants and boxers down with ease.

You knew part of the problem was that he was panicked, the other problem was that the small string the vibrator was attached to had been pulled just out of reach. You clicked the off button on the little remote.

You licked from his perineum to the top of his ass-crack, watching the way his shoulders seemed to relax just a bit. You did this a few times before focusing specifically on his tight asshole. The way your tongue swirled and lapped at the tight bud had him loosening up quickly. You thought about it for a few seconds, before you decided to slip a finger in next to your probing tongue. You caught the loop and gentle started pulling the toy out.

By this point, Luigi had his upper body resting on his desk, whimpering and moaning with every little move you made. You always made him feel so good.

You were finally able to pull the string all the way out, but the toy was still firmly lodged inside of him. You let up pulling for a moment or so, opting to take some time to properly fuck your boss’s ass with your tongue.

He knew there was some reason he kept not killing you.

Finally, you gave a firm tug and the toy popped loose.

Luigi let out a quiet groan.

You stayed on your knees as your boss straightened back up and readjusted his garments. He looked down at you for a second then shook his head, going to gingerly sit down and handle some paperwork.

#luigi largo #luigi largo x reader #luigi largo x you #repo! the genetic rock opera #repo! the genetic opera #Repo!#slasher fucker #slasher fan #slasher fandom #nsft #n//sfw #Teddy Talks #theo's thoughts

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strawberrysoup · 4 years

Text

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong. You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners.

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment. Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #clint barton x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!thor #dark!bucky barnes #dark!tony stark #dark!natasha romanoff #wow i give up its too many #posies chapter 1 #will reblog w tags in just a sec

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iboughtaplant · 3 years

Text

I tried to write angst! Here is a short Geraskier fic I wrote based on the Regina Spektor song Samson.

A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light

Rating: T

Warnings: no archive warnings

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Tags: Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Blood, Head Injury, Haircuts, Sort Of, Songfic, Song: Samson (Regina Spektor), a lot about Geralt's hair, I love Geralt's long hair so idk why I wrote a fic about his hair being chopped off

Read it on AO3

Geralt’s hair had always been long the whole time Jaskier knew him. Granted, Jaskier hadn’t known Geralt for very long compared to how old the witcher was.

When he first saw him, Jaskier was drawn to the quiet witcher seated in the corner. His long silver-white hair framing his handsome face. He was then of course drawn to the medallion and swords that marked him as a witcher. Not just excited to talk to a pretty face, but to hear the stories he could tell.

They might not have got off to the best start, but Jaskier...he loved Geralt. It might have been a bit of hero worship at first, this brave, strong witcher with a heart of gold. Branded as a mutant, a butcher, the stuff of nightmares in stories told to small children. But Jaskier loved him first. He loved Geralt above all else. His lute might be a close second, but that didn’t detract from the fact that he loved Geralt first.

It also meant he was already head over heels in love with Geralt when Geralt finally confessed that the love was mutual a few years into their friendship.

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Soon after Geralt confessed his feelings, Jaskier also learned about how Geralt’s long hair was linked to his witcher abilities. He already knew that its silver-white color was due to Geralt’s mutagens, but he hadn’t known there was more to it.

They were in Oxenfurt and Jaskier’s hair was getting too long for his liking, so it was the perfect excuse to spend some of the coin he earned playing in a tavern the night before on a proper haircut from a barber.

“Geralt, you should come with me. I am sure I have enough coin to pay for you to get your hair trimmed.”

“It’s fine, Jaskier. It doesn’t need to be cut.”

“Well maybe it doesn’t need it, but a haircut can be nice and relaxing. I know you love when I wash your hair for you, and they will do that at the barber’s as well.”

“No, Jaskier, it doesn’t need to be cut because it is always the same length.”

“But doesn’t your hair grow? Is it magic that keeps it from growing out of control?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt answered with a “hmm.” He took a long pause before saying more. “It must be tied to the spells the mages used, however they might have changed the mutagens. I don’t know. I don’t cut my hair. And it doesn’t grow past a certain length.”

Geralt then told Jaskier that due to some odd reaction between his body, the extra mutagens, and the magic of the mages his hair was cursed to be tied to the abilities and heightened senses the mutagens afforded him.

Jaskier had thought that Geralt’s long hair had been his one vanity. But of course it was yet another thing out of his control. But it made him curious if Geralt was the only witcher whose hair was tied to his powers.

“I’ve never heard of another witcher with white hair like yours,” Jaskier said. He didn’t want to ask a more pointed question.

“Because I’m the only,” Geralt said, voice thick with emotion. “The only one to receive a second dose of mutagens. Well the only one to survive it at least. The mages experimented on others before me, but I was the only one to survive the ordeal.”

“That’s awful, my love. I’m sorry you had to endure that.” He paused. “And I know it won’t make you feel better about it, but it is quite dashing, if I do say so.” Jaskier said, edging closer to Geralt and running his nimble fingers through the soft strands.

“How about I forgo the haircut and we can spend our coin on that nice soap you pretend you don’t like. I’ll wash your hair for you. And then we can braid it. A bit of a change even if you can’t cut it.”

“I’d like that,” Geralt said in a soft voice.

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The yellow-orange light of the campfire made everything glow. The atmosphere felt far more comfortable than the current situation. But Jaskier was thankful for the light it granted. Jaskier scrambled to dig his scissors out of his pack and make his way back to Geralt, unconscious on the ground, only his thin bedroll under him.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Jaskier whispered through his tears to Geralt’s unconscious form as he took the scissors—considerably duller than he would have liked, he had forgotten to ask Geralt to sharpen them for him recently—and began to cut away Geralt’s silver locks that were stained red by blood and gore matted in them.

Unfortunately, most, if not all, of the blood belonged to Geralt, the gore belonging to the beast he killed, but not before it almost killed him.

Jaskier’s hands were shaking, he had to grip the scissors with both hands, one hand supporting the other. He had to cut Geralt’s hair. He had to. They were in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere. No towns were close enough to travel to with an injured witcher. Not to mention the fact that Geralt had already been running low on potions. They were going to restock on potion ingredients in the next town they visited. But again said town was too far to travel when Geralt was severely injured and Jaskier was only human, and would not make it there and back with help in time.

The gash on the back of his skull was nasty. Jaskier knew that head wounds bled profusely regardless of their severity, but this one was quite bad and even a witcher could die from bleeding out.

He kept whispering apologies to an unconscious Geralt as he cut away, piece by piece, the tangled, matted hair and clumps of monster gore to better see the wound. The bleeding had hardly slowed, and Geralt had also lost blood from a thin slice down his side. At least the bleeding of that wound had slowed and Jaskier had been able to crumple up one of their shirts to put pressure on it and wrap a bandage around it.

The head wound was much more worrying. Once Geralt’s hair was mostly cut away, Jaskier was able to clean the wound with the water from his water skin, some alcohol from a flask as an antiseptic.

It was a rough job, but at least the wound was cleaned and the bleeding finally slowed. From his kneeling position, Jaskier finally sank down onto his heels. He could feel the sticky tear tracks down his cheeks. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He felt the tackiness of the blood still on his hands.

Geralt’s hair had been covered in blood, only fitting that his was now. Geralt’s blood. It was Geralt’s blood on his hands and he hated it.

Once the adrenaline started to wear off, Jaskier realized his hands were shaking again. Or maybe they had been shaking the whole time. It was still an odd sensation as his hands were always steady. Geralt pointed it out many a time when he had to guide Jaskier through stitching him up over the years.

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Once Jaskier was done stitching and bandaging, all he could do was wait. Sit and wait for Geralt to wake up. He felt anxious and tired at the same time. Excess energy thrummed through him while his limbs felt heavy like lead.

He looked at his lute, but felt no compulsion to play it. He should probably eat, but any food would probably taste like ash in his mouth.

He laid back on his bedroll and tried to relax. He would be no use to Geralt when he woke up, if he was keyed up and anxious. He sighed and stretched out, his arms pillowed beneath his head as he stared up at the sky.

The stars were bright, twinkling spots of light speckling the inky sky. It made the world feel big, and made him feel small. He was but a small speck in the grand scheme of things. He glanced over at Geralt and felt a smile cross his face. Geralt was more beautiful than all the stars in the sky and twice as bright. The stars were just old light.

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Jaskier was woken up by Geralt sitting down on the edge of his bedroll. He didn't even remember falling asleep. Geralt was slow to sit down as he leaned against Jaskier’s legs, his injuries taking a toll. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if it was more than usual. Was Geralt human now? Did his witcher healing at least do its part before Jaskier cut his hair?

He was pulled out of his spiral when Geralt spoke. “Your hair’s red.” Geralt said in a slur.

“What?” Jaskier asked, scandalized and afraid. Of course of all things Geralt was focusing on his hair, oh the irony. Jaskier also had the thought that somehow Geralt was seeing the blood in his hair from when he ran his hands through it earlier.

“In the light, looks red,” Geralt mumbled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier sobbed. In the light of the fire—that he somehow managed to keep burning—his hair looked red. He buried his head in his hands, still curled up on his bedroll. He felt his tears plastering his hands to his face. He couldn’t look at Geralt. He couldn’t face his honey-golden eyes, full of softness that betrayed his hard edges.

He essentially killed the man he loved. Maybe that was a bit dramatic. But Geralt is, well was a witcher. Jaskier just took that away from him when he chopped all of his hair off. His beautiful silver hair. Jaskier knew that Geralt was more than his hair, he almost cried when Geralt admitted that he loved when Jaskier told him all the things he loved about him and his hair wasn’t near the top of the list.

Geralt leaned more heavily into Jaskier and sighed. Jaskier removed his hands from his face and looked up at the love of his life, his greatest downfall. He stifled another sob that threatened to come out and looked at Geralt.

“My head hurts.” Geralt said in a small voice that was out of character for him. He sounded so vulnerable.

“You had, well have, a head wound. It was bad. Oh Geralt it was so bad. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You saved me.”

“But at what cost, my love?”

Geralt didn’t answer his question. He just said, “My hair’s gone isn’t it.”

Jaskier sat up and wrapped his arms around Geralt, situating himself behind him so Geralt was in the vee of his legs, still on Jaskier’s bedroll, Geralt’s abandoned a few feet away.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered wetly into Geralt’s shoulder, lightly trailing his fingers down Geralt’s arm.

“You did good, Jask.”

“Don’t tell me that. How can you say that? I took it. I took your strength. I took it all. I-I, I hurt you.”

“No, the monster hurt me, you saved me.”

“Are you even a witcher anymore? Can you tell? If I took that away from you, I-”

“I never wanted to be a witcher, Jask,” Geralt said as he leaned his head back against Jaskier. He let out a slight hiss of pain and Jaskier felt a hand was squeezing his heart at the sound.

“I’m sorry. I am. But I had to save you. I couldn’t watch you bleed out. It was the only way.”

“You did alright, Jaskier.” He paused. “Wanna see you, help me turn around.”

Jaskier sucked in a breath. He knew he would have to meet Geralt’s eyes eventually. He helped Geralt turn around in his arms and supported most of his weight as he leaned into Jaskier. He looked into Jaskier’s eyes and Jaskier looked back. He looked into those honey-gold eyes and he felt settled. Geralt wasn’t mad. Jaskier took in Geralt’s face. It was clean, Jaskier had made sure of that. And his hair, of course, was short. Silver strands cropped close to his scalp, uneven in a few—well many—places. The bandages wrapped around the crown of his head. He was beautiful.

Geralt kissed Jaskier then. And Jaskier kissed back. Geralt kept kissing him. Soft, gentle kisses. Comforting kisses. They laid down on Jaskier’s bedroll, Jaskier pulling Geralt’s body on top of his own so he could support him, so his head wouldn’t touch the ground. Geralt insisted on kissing him more. He kissed him until the morning light broke through the trees of the forest surrounding them in golden light.

#the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #songfic #jaskier #my writing

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eternallysarcastic · 3 years

Text

winter moon/ch.1

Helloooo, I finally decided to post my little Xiao fic that I’ve been thinking about for a really long time. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated.

Title is from Erutan - Winter Moon

You were slowly assembling the lantern, nimble fingers gently folding the paper, careful not to smudge the small writing on it. Sitting on your knees on top of one of the tall mountains on the edge of Liyue Harbour you let the lantern fly up in the air, joining the hundreds of small lights.

You sighed as you watched the beautiful scenery, feeling the nostalgia and sadness creeping up your throat. You put your hands together as if to pray, to whom you weren’t sure but you hoped there would be someone higher than a God, than an Archon, hearing your prayers.

But you knew there was no one, no one was more powerful than an Archon.

Except yourself.

And yet here you were, the God of all gods, praying for someone else to come and help you. Pathetic.

But you were desperate for someone to hear your wish, to rescue you and so you stayed all night, praying until you could barely feel your legs.

If you didn’t know better, you would have already confronted the man who had watched you the whole night from a distance far off in the forest of mountains. You could feel his wariness and his disdain, for what, you didn’t know. You had already felt the fact that he was no mortal, waves of condensed, rippling power coming from his direction miles away.

Once the sun rose, so did you. Supporting yourself on a nearby rock wall, you allowed your weak legs to gain circulation back to them and dusted off your white attire. You had a long day ahead.

Knocking on the funeral parlour door, you were surprised to be greeted by a short girl with brown hair and red eyes.

“Welcome, welcome! My name is Hu Tao and I am here to provide you with our funeral services! How may I assist you?” She spoke in a high and excited voice. She seemed a little too hyper to be working for a funeral parlour but to be fair, in all your years of life, it wasn’t the most peculiar thing you’ve seen.

“Uhm...” You were unsure how to continue. “I am looking for someone actually.”

“Oooh? And who may that be?” Her eyes lit up with curiosity. She reminded you of a small child.

But you weren't sure who exactly you were looking for. You haven't seen him in 3000 years, you didn’t know what form he might've taken this time. If it was even a ‘he’, but the stars had led you here and you trusted them more than you trusted anything else.

You had to guess. “A man?”

The girl, Hu Tao, pouted and crossed her arms childishly. “Everyone’s always looking for Zhongli and never me! Hmph!” You smiled sheepishly at her cute display of annoyance as she stepped aside to let you in.

The parlour wasn’t anything extravagant but you could see it was doing well enough to have all kinds of commodities. You stepped into a giant room with a long table in the middle, and as your eyes followed the length of it, at the head of it you saw a man.

He was sipping his tea, eyes closed and demeanour calm but as soon as his eyes opened, you knew. It was him.

The second you stepped into the room his golden eyes had snapped open and landed on you. He studied you for a second before those same gorgeous eyes widened. The sudden pressure in the room made the eccentric girl beside you obviously uncomfortable.

“I-I guess I’ll leave you two here to talk things out,” she said and she exited the room with hurried steps.

“You...” He seemed to not be able to form any further words and his eyes had filled with the foreign feeling you had recognized as hope. “You’re alive?”

“Have been for some time,” you chuckled and scratched the back of your neck uncomfortably; you really didn’t want to talk about it. “how have you been, Rex Lapis?”

That seemed to take him out of his stupor as he regained his usual calm demeanour, even though his eyes would still not leave your form as if you’d vanish into thin air at any moment.

“It’s Zhongli now,” he cleared his throat “Rex Lapis is no more.” He said and pulled out a chair for you to sit, “but you knew I hadn’t actually passed away did you, neither Gods nor Archons could ever escape your sight.”

“Isn’t that my job anyway? To be an observer and a protector-”, you laughed softly “or at least it was at one point in time. However, that’s not why I'm here, Rex L-, sorry, Zhongli. I need your help.”

“I am glad to offer my help, anyway I can, but you must know – my power is not what it used to be,” he said solemnly.

“What? Why? I knew something must be wrong as soon as I heard about your death but at the same time your constellation stayed as bright as ever.”

“I made a deal with the Tsaritsa. I gave her my gnosis,” he said as calm as ever. As if he didn’t just say he gave away the most precious thing to an Archon. You’d be furious if it wasn’t Rex Lapis himself, the god you’d known for over 4000 years and knew he’d never do anything irrational without having thought it out.

So as calm as he himself was, you asked simply. “Why?”

“Liyue’s protection and its people are my first priority. You might have heard already that the Tsaritsa is planning a revolution, a war against Celestia itself. It would be no easy feat and it will require sacrifice – I cannot allow my people to be that sacrifice,” he sipped his tea. “You must also be careful, as a God born from Celestia itself, once it’s destroyed so will your powers fade.”

“I know, that is why I looked for you. I need to find someone before that happens, my powers are only enough to point me in a vague direction but ever since that night 3000 years ago, they’re a quarter from what they used to be, I am not strong enough.” You sighed and held your hands in a fist over your weakness. Because of that fateful night 3 millennia ago, you were now reduced to begging for help – something your pride didn’t allow you to.

It was quiet for a few moments and you could feel his gaze on you. “I’d ask you what happened but I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you, Zhongli.”

“I may not be able to help out much. Ever since I gave away my gnosis my powers have also waned, I haven’t had enough time for them to recover. However I know who can.” He seemed to have finished his tea and stood up from his chair.

Looking at him fully now, you could see the similarities of his stature and face to the one you remembered 4000 years ago. You knew he probably never meant to go back to godhood ever again, but he seemed happy where he was and that relieved you more than you thought it would.

“Shall we go, little lady.” He outstretched his elbow for you to take and laughed softly the moment he noticed your annoyed expression.

“I’ve told you a million times not to call me that!”

The full moon was high in the sky when you crossed a wooden bridge and could finally see the giant tree – hotel hybrid up close. It looked much bigger than you had thought it would at first. It’s height intimidating against the moonlit night sky. You and Zhongli used the elevator and got to the top floor.

“You can see every point in Liyue from here!” you exclaimed excitedly, leaning over the ledge of the balcony.

When you had entered a lady at the front desk had only nodded at you and Zhongli wordlessly, letting you through. You figured this was a place Zhongli frequented often. The view was as beautiful as you thought it would be, the gentle light of the moon covering everything in a beautiful silver colour.

“Rex Lapis, what may I do for you?” You heard a deep voice from behind you, turning around in time to see the boy bowing at Zhongli.

Your eyes met his golden ones and time seemed to stop for a moment. You felt pressure constricting your lungs and an unfamiliar feeling building in your chest. You didn’t understand what was happening, you weren’t even able to think, your head felt lightweight and heavy at the same time. There was a tiny ache right where your heart was supposed to be.

Yet, he also stood there, those golden eyes wide in surprise and something else you couldn’t recognise. His fingers twitched once, then twice as if hesitating before he slowly outstretched his hand towards you.

That seemed to wake you up from your state and as if you had just jolted awake you shook your head to get rid of that weird feeling that had made every hair on your body stand on end.

“I-I’m sorry, have I met you before?” You asked him quietly, eyebrows creased.

His outstretched hand stopped in its tracks before it fell down lifelessly by his side. His golden irises clouded with confusion for a split second before his expression turned blank, as if that whole exchange hadn’t even happened in the first place.

He turned away from you and towards Zhongli with his arms crossed against his chest. “No, we have not.”

It was like a lightbulb went off in your head. He was the person who had watched you for the whole night praying during the Lantern Festival! That must be it. You had felt his irritation at you from miles away, so this must be it. You had done something to disrespect him surely.

You had almost forgotten Zhongli was even here before he cleared his throat to get your attention, having watched the whole display in front of him with eyes filled with confusion. You could feel the cogs in his brain turning, thinking, analysing.

“Let me introduce you then. This is Xiao, the guardian Yaksha of Liyue and one of my trusted adepti and Xiao,” he turned to gesture at you “this is one of the celestial Gods, Goddess of the Moon.”

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #zhongli #hu tao #reader insert #winter moon

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