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screampied · 1 month

Note

Sorry this is super specific but angry mean and sloppy hate sex w the jjk boys (specifically nanami) is all I've been thinking about 🥹🥹🥹

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ SCREAM, NO BOLOGNA ! ’﹒⺡

sukuna, toji, gojo, nanami, geto

જ warnings. fem! reader, hate séx, implied multiple órgasms, praise, dirty talk, facefucking, hair pulling, choking, overstim, squìrting, implied breeding, daddy kink, the bed kinda… breaks, mdni.

𖬺 — NANAMI KENTO.

“now now sweetheart,” he’d coo. his voice had such a sugary rasp as he spoke. you moan, feeling him casually bend you over with just one hand. you felt him softly caress the soft edges of your ass, lovingly stroking a thumb against your sheer skin before bringing his leaky tip towards your soaked folds. “was that little fit you threw earlier in the mall necessary? told you to wait until we got home.”

“don’t…care,” you huff out with furrowed eyebrows. your breath wafts against the soft material of the cushioned pillow as you pout. nanami raises a brow, making you arch just a little before your lips part. “i was bored all day. just f-fuck me, kento. s-stop bein' all nice ‘n just be rough with me.”

“my oh my, what a filthy mouth you have,” he clicks his tongue, and nanami purposely leans up close to you. you mewled once he grabs a fistful of your hair. he has a good grip before giving it a slight yank. you let off a whimper once the head of his cock skims past your entrance. not once but twice. his words were so rich, coated with pure tease before he lays his weight right up against you. “rough she says,” he whispers, and he brings his free hand to grip your waist. nanami was so precise and slow with his hand movements. you let off a gasp the minute he starts to ease his way inside. “if you wanted me to treat you like this, you didn’t have to be such a—”

he gets cut off by creating a single sloppy thrust against you and you sob out a whimper from how thick he was. a few good inches and you then started to feel yourself stretch. “…brat,” he concludes, and you even hear nanami’s voice get a tad bit lower. his tie tickles against your spine as he starts to move and your eyes didn’t hesitate to quickly rolllll into the very depths of your skull.

nanami didn’t mind being rough, especially if you asked nicely. whenever he was though, his thrusts were just godly. so good…

your maw dangles open as he’s just whacking you in all the right spots, all the right places.

he still had his work clothes on too—you couldn’t wait, you needed him now. his girth stretched you out in every way imaginable, you dumbly jerk against the bed before letting off a cute squeal. “k-kento, harder. choke me. harder pleaseee.”

nanami kisses his teeth, cocking his head to the side as he intakes a sharp concise breath.

“you’re somethin' else, you know that?” and you feel the warmth of his fingers wrap around your neck. his fingers, so thick. you hit back and forth against him—your pussy just squeaking a high pitch tune out in harmony. “rougher baby?” he huffs out, and you moan once he caresses the middle part of your neck. “you—you like bein' arched over like this for your husband?”

“y-yes,” you’d whine out, feeling his gentle touch graze against the fat of your ass. he loved caressing every inch of your body, so gentle. the tips of nanami’s thumbs gingerly press into the sides of your hips before he delivers a mean two second stroke. you gasp, wanting more, more of him being so spry and vigorous with his hips. “fuck me h-hard, ‘ken.”

nanami grows quiet, watching how your torso cutely gets propped up against him.

you were just aching . . . soaked for more of his thick inches plugging inside of your sweetened cunt. he loved the view. such a pretty wife being all arched for him, taking round after round. he wanted nothing more than to just lean right up to you and run a hand down your spine.

he adored getting under your skin, making you all shy and timid. once nanami starts to get ruthless, you’re making all types of noises, such noises reverberate across the entire room — ricochet after ricochet, just bouncing off the walls.

“jus’ like that, kento,” you’d whimper out, and the feeling of his thick cock delving all inside of your walls had you so wet—you were drooling all against the bed sheets. he hit it just right, nanami’s breath became rough and raspy. you wanted him to be a bit rough, so he was more than happy to oblige. you squeezed down against him and he groans, watching your chest slam and jolt against the beat cushiony mattress.

“g-goddamnn,” he throws his head back in pure ecstasy. you had him going feral, he was enticed with how good you made him feel. vice versa, you swallowed him whole. your cunt was just sputtering out sweet noises that made his ears practically pop. he liked seeing you like this, drooling for more cock. strands of saliva seep from the corners of your mouth solely based on how deep he reached inside of you. “sweetheart, you’re gonna—make a mess out of me.”

his voice was so low, it was sweet. how he spoke so rich and smoothly yet his thrusts against your aroused core was the entire opposite. you moaned, momentarily after a while you started to feel a sudden tension build up. a rush of waves went through you, and you whined once his tip kept smacking against your precious g-spot.

again, and again, and again, constant loop. your walls had him in a tight chokehold—quite literally, you were gripping around him like a vice before you squealed out a, “k-kento, o-oh my godddd. i feel, ‘m gonna— right there.”

he chuckles, deepening his hits against you. your cute words were suddenly broken, you couldn’t fully speak a sentence without choking up. he had you throbbing, slick running down your thighs with your jaw cutely open. he was so hefty. his base just rams right into you, it had you dizzy, toes curling and eyes just crossed. your ankle shook before you gasped at the abrupt feeling of you finally reaching your peak. “fuckkk kento,” you’d sob, and you only then realized you’d just squirt all over his cock.

“oooooh,” nanami hums, and he slows down just briefly. he ends up finishing around the same time as you, painting on your your spine with a gorgeous canvas of his own seed. it shot out in thin ropes on your back, you felt so warm and yet empty once he pulled out. nanami had such mahogany eyes full of love, running a hand down your waist once more before having a shy abrupt expression. “did . . my wife just squirt on me?”

a question, a simple question you couldn’t answer but he already knew. he smiles, soft chocolatey irises lingering towards your sopping wet pussy. he brings a hand towards it, giving it a sweet pat.

“mm. appears she did,” he answers for you, and he couldn’t be rough and mean to you for that long. he loved you too much, especially your body. nanami groans, feeling you wriggle your hips up against him, a sign that you wanted him to keep going. nanami’s lips tug up into a smile before he flips you over, slowly prying your legs open before humming. “can you do that again, my love? show me how much of a messy wife you can be.”

𖬺 — SUGURU GETO.

“woah. easyyyy now angel,” geto smirks, and he’d be laid back against the soft cushion of the driver’s seat.

he had you propped up right on his lap. it was tranquil, the two of you being surrounded by a secluded spot with a few streetlights making the scenery a bit more bright. your bottom lip quivered, hovering over his angry tip before swallowing thickly. “hm. i know you’re my ex ‘n all, but with a look like that i’d say you’re still in love with me.”

“just— shut up,” you’d grumble. he chuckles, bringing two rough hands towards the sides of your waist. he loved more than anything to touch you, to run and strum his svelte lengthy fingers all against your skin. it had you weak, he had you weak. geto and you were on and off, sure. but the pent up annoyed intimacy was always amazing. toe curling even, you try to hold back a moan the moment his cock starts to kiss against your folds, his tip gradually going inside. “fuck you.”

geto leers at you before a sly smirk compresses against his pink lips. “…girl, bye,” and his sassiness catches you off guard. with an eye roll, he moves you closer towards his chest—reaching against the left side of the seat to make it recline back. “all this talk for someone who still struggles to take me, even with prep. get serious.”

you glare, not knowing how to reply and he snickers at how quick he made you shut up. your glare turned into a cute eye-widening expression, because that’s when you start to feel his cock massage your inner walls.

“s-shit,” you’d gasp, unhurriedly feeling him sink inside. geto was always so thick, a perfect fit for you. that grip you always gave him. he loved it more than anything.

he still also loved you more than anything, but no one had to know that. “s-so fuckin’ big, suguru.”

“gotta be to stretch my favorite pussy,” he breathes, feeling you start to rock your hips—you moan at how quick he reached you so deep. geto had an upward curve, never failing to locate your most secretive and tender spots with his plump tip. he massaged your gummy walls so good it had your thighs already spasming. it was embarrassing, he had you wrapped around his finger.

you hated it, you hated him, is what you kept telling yourself. alas, you hated him enough to ride him into complete oblivion. “mhm. tug on my hair a bit, angel. always love when ya do that.”

you moue at him, forgetting how much of a slut he was. perhaps an even bigger one than you. you grab onto his silky healthy hair, giving it a nice tug before he slips off a moan. “heh. aw, does me moaning for you turn you on? felt you squeeze all against me jus’ now.”

“s-shut uppp,” you’d huff out, your voice starting to become a bit nervy. geto’s fingers trail against your waist before you start to grind against him. as his seat was reclined—he had such a pretty view of your face.

whilst you’re wrenching and jerking strenuously against him. his dick expands all inside you, his sheer girth, his cockhead that was dragging all through your folds. the more you moved, the more you coated his entire lower shaft with your glistening slick.

you made sure to use your hips in such a sensual motion, rotating them before swerving back and forth. geto grows quiet, your cute moans being the only sounds in the car — replacing the vehicle’s deafening silence with your sweet murmurs.

“still mad at me?” he suddenly whispers, your rhythmic movements driving him to the first street of plain insanity. you always knew how to ride him just right, hands of yours roamed all down his abs that poked through his white tee. “i can see right through that pretty bratty expression. you just wanted to fuck me. admit it.”

“stop—talking,” you’d grouse cutely, narrowing your eyebrows at him. you knew he was right though. geto groans, feeling you start to bounce on his lap . . the lap you were happily straddling. your eyes ran down his perfectly structured body, he wore a simple leather jacket with a white tank top underneath. a pretty figure, his abs were clenched and tightened all because of you. you moan, feeling his dick brush and swipe against your g-spot. it didn’t even take that long. geto’s taken by surprise the minute your fingers wrap around his neck, giving him a tight squeeze.

“well shit,” he gruffs out, giving the right part of your hips a squeeze. slender fingers of his go towards your ass before smacking it. you moaned, and geto hums. “got the audacity to choke me? kinky girl,” and as his pitch grew low and husky, you felt your pussy throb. it was pathetic—just a few words from geto’s mouth and it’s already enough to have you drenched. “if you’re gonna choke me, at least do it harder. i like it rough in case you don’t know, girl.”

he was such a brat, and you thought you were the problem. you didn’t even know if that was possible—you glare at him though, giving his neck a slight squeeze and he moans. “now fuckin’ ride me. and stare at me the whole time too,” and he then grabs you by the neck this time, pulling you into a deep sloppy kiss. it was a mixture of many feelings. a low groan gets caught in his mouth as he feels your hips gradually speed up. geto’s tongue runs against yours, and he can’t keep his hands off you — off your ass. “fuck me. fuck me, f-fuckkk,” and his last words were a bit slurred. you were taking him fully, grinding your hips to where he even starts to stutter.

geto’s ego gets ahead of him, so much so to where he ends up cumming early. it shot out so much that he’s taken aback. dark hooded eyes staring into your soul practically. geto’s out of breath, losing track of time as your spongey walls soaked him for all that he was worth.

“and you call me the brat,” you’d pant, leaning in to press a slovenly wet kiss against his jaw. you paused your hips, letting off a soft moan once you felt him overflow your cunt with a dump of his cum. geto’s the one glaring at you now, and then he stares at you once you kiss near his neck. “still finishing early like always.”

“hmph,” he pouts, not wanting to face reality that you’d have the one up on him. geto was so cute and pouty, beads of sweat racing down the sides of his forehead before he mumbles a pouty, “i’ll take you outside this car ‘n fuck you on the hood, don’t play with me.”

“do it.”

“my girl,” he slyly says.

𖬺 — SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“foolish woman. the nerve is beyond me,” sukuna growls.

his nostrils flair up, witnessing as you’re happily on your knees for him. not even the slightest bit scared. albeit, you were a bit irked that he pulled out his shaft only to make you—in his own words, ‘clean up your own mess.’ he’d snicker, watching your pout turn into a cute scowl before leaning in to bring a kiss towards the top part of his dick. “oh good. ya know exactly what to do. thought i was gonna have to lecture you.”

as your knees bury themselves into the ground, you take a brief look at the cursed shaft right in front of you.

you stared in awe for a moment, so lengthy. such a pretty swollen mushroom tip, just glistening with droplets of his seed that was just inside you nearly a moment ago. “shut up,” you’d loll out your tongue, tasting the bitterness that resided against his frenulum. “mhm.”

sukuna grunts, the vibrations you purposely made to make him feel bundles of nerves stir up inside. he grips onto the crown of your head before a side of his pearly white canines show.

“watch that mouth ‘n tend to your meal,” and his voice was raspy, a tad bit shaky. you could hear it in his voice how sensitive he still was. his recent release took quite a lot out of him—that much was a no brainer. sukuna had a near curve to him, length decorated with markings all over his skin.

you ran your tongue in each particular spot, staring at him the entire time before giggling. “teasin' whore. stop wastin' time ‘n get it wetter for me. spit.”

with a glare, you part your lips, spitting right on his tip before leisurely taking him into your mouth. again. he was just so thick, sweet girth included. “cute little pout ya got goin' on. what’s the matter? don’t like being told what to—do?”

you abruptly gag, feeling his tip prod against the very back of your throat. sukuna sneers, watching how much of a messy girl you already were for him. so sloppy, strands of spit were already starting to run down your chin and decorate your chest. you kept him so warm inside your mouth, swirling that pretty tongue of yours against the plump front part of his dick. that spot, it made him nearly give your hair a mean rough yank.

“s-shit,” he’d roughly breathe out, and once sukuna starts thrusting his hips into your mouth. you hold onto his clenched thighs, making an attempt to relax your jaw. you felt a vein that ran alongside his fat cock twitch alongside your tongue. he groans once he sees your eyes flutter. “this the only way to get you to s…stop talking back to me, princess? fuck your sloppy mouth until you’re drooling all over me, huh?”

being bratty, you give him a nod and he glares. his glowering gaze quickly turned to a caught off guard look and your tongue’s so playful, skimming all against his tip—sloppily having all kinds of strands of spit run down the crevices of your lips.

“my nasty girl,” he huffs, rolling his bright eyes at how easy you made him get so close again. his thighs started to ache, and he’s still got a firm grip on the crown of your head. “nasty. nasty. nasty,” he enunciates between each vigorous thrust into your mouth. he liked hearing your noises, gulp after gulp. cute lashes fluttering and all.

your spit paid a huge role, contributing to making him all slick — so filthy.

a glistening cobweb of your own lewd saliva trickled off your lips. sukuna grabs your chin, smearing it all over your lips before his own bottom lip quivers. he had a pout. sukuna ryomen was pouting all because of you. he wanted to kiss that bratty mouth, it irked him. you were so pretty, having your tight throat be stuffed like this.

“fuckkk,” he growls, feeling his thighs start to tremble. you always knew right when he was about to finish. his breathing with get irregular and his voice would be super deep and husky. thrusts against your face began incredibly sloppy while your lip gloss smeared all over your lips, ruined. “relax that fuckin’ jaw for me. gonna paint that throat white just how ya like it.”

not even long before he says that, sukuna ends up finishing again. you don’t even realize how soaked you were between your legs, cramped up fingers playing with yourself while your mouth was being salaciously occupied. a nice load coated the tip of your tongue—he pumps a good amount into your mouth, sweet sweet ropes of cursed cum.

“don’t fuckin’ swallow yet,” and you blink twice. sukuna pulls his throbbing now flaccid dick out of your mouth before getting down to your knee-level. “give me that kiss you owe me, brat,” and with a tug on your chin with one hand, you moaned, feeling sukuna sneak a rough yet somewhat passionate kiss.

he tastes the entire mess on your lips, not even being fazed before he pulls you away with a cute scowl. “did you enjoy the meal?” and he squeezes your spit-glossed lips together. you nod with cute puffed up cheeks before swallowing and he narrows his eyebrows, stroking your chin. “tch. good. because now i gotta clean you up. touchin’ yourself without asking me. bend the fuck over and face the other way. yeah.”

𖬺 — TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“soooo much back talk for a slutty arch like this,” toji grumbles. you steadily shudder, feeling him run fingers down the soft skin of your spine—you moan sweetly, gnawing on the bottom of your lip. “you claim you 'hate' me ‘n ya still get this pussy all soaked f'me without me havin' to say anything, baby?” as you spoke, you arched your back, slowly…

oh, you hated it, no…loath was probably a far more better word.

you loathed how easy it was. no matter what, toji had always found himself back in your bed—or vice versa, you in his. safe to say, he couldn’t get enough of you.

perhaps he had a bit of attachment towards you, or maybe the main thing was that he was infatuated with your sweet sopping wet pussy. “fuck you toji,” you huff out, feeling big rough hands grab your ass. he’s playing with the fabric of the string that ran down, taking in your curves before springing his weighty length out.

just feeling his fat cockhead. leaky and all…

casually smearing against your slick entrance, you felt yourself salivating shamelessly, puff after puff, the pants that departed from your lips were never ending.

“fuck you toji,” he mocks your tone, his raspy rough tone trying to pitch to yours—simply humiliating. “dumb words for a dumb little girl,” he snickers, and you gasp once he makes you scoot your ass up towards him. while your chest welts against the bed, you let off a whine once he gently starts to make his way in.

you took toji numerous times, a plethora of times, but it was as if every time was the first. toji was so thick, regardless of if he was barely in yet or fully, you always felt all of him—effortlessly expanding throughout your spongey walls like it was equivalent to an elastic band.

he was so mean and it always turned you on. the way he was the only one to memorize all your sensitive spots. he knew every inch of your body, the specific precise angle to hit with his dick to tear out those cute shrilling orgasmic whimpers from you. “just f-fuck me then. always take fuckin’ forever.”

“i’ll take as long as i want ‘n you’ll still get wet for me, whore,” he coos, burying his massive cock right into you. you couldn’t see him, but you could probably guess he was throwing his head back right about now. he loved that feeling, the salaciously delectable grip your pussy had on him, happily taking him in like it’s missed him — it did, and maybe you even missed him too. when toji’s mean, he’s fucking mean. he fucks mean, and his dialogue is always even meaner. “now be a good girl ‘n open up for me. missed my girl.”

plump lips of yours were all pretty and glossed, parted open with a little drool coming out. it was a sight. once toji’s dick figures out a sensual rhythm, you’re right back to where you started. his pace was simply mouthwatering. striking and snapping against you with such abrasiveness, you could barely keep up. toji’s stamina, it was never something to be taken light either. his hefty base taps near your ass again and again.

that makes you wet, just imagining how full he must be. “d-daddyyy,” you’d gasp out, basically being shoved right into your own mattress. your breathing was very much competitive — having an entire race with your irregular breathy pants. “f-fuck.”

“what’d you just call me, baby?” toji gruffs, and his voice was a deep low. the baritone that resided in his words had you pulsating. he cups your ass with two hands, moving it closer towards him to get a deeper and thorough angle before he sneers at your cute whimpers.

“s-said toji,” you’d whine, dragging out your words. your sweet words were all unsteady and bumpy all due to his thrusts against you. you were bouncing back and forth, mimicking his tempo.

toji sneers. “nuh uhhh,” and then he brings a hand towards the curvature part of your neck, stubby fingers stroking against your skin. “don’t lie to me. tell me what ya said originally,” and then you feel his hips pivot. toji’s dick prods against that spot, his curve brushing past your walls and you moan out. “orrrr do i gotta make this sloppy pussy tell me instead?”

you whine, feeling him bring a sharp sting to your ass. he loved giving you a spank or two, dragging out those sweet whimper from your mouth left and right. your cunt throbbed whenever his palm made contact with your ass cheek and you finally sputter out a, “daddy. called you daddy, toji.”

“yeah. you fuckin’ did girl,” he grunts, his voice was so pitched. such rude hips of his, no manners whatsoever . . snapping right into you, it was so good.

his full balls, hefty and all pressed up against your entrance, you’re in a trance. profusely drooling for him to fill you up, everywhere. leave your sweet hole dripping with nothing but his sticky cum. toji titters, seeing how you were trying to keep up with his pace. you failed miserably though.

despite that though, toji doesn’t realize how good he’s fucking you because not even moments later, he hears the wood of the headboard split. your ears twitch upon instinct, and you sort of sink further into the mattress. his bummy weight smacked right into you from behind.

“whoopsie daisy,” he shrugs, pausing for a moment. toji realizes the bed—well, your bed was now broken. with a sly grin, he makes you lean forward before pulling out to smear his leaky tip over your entrance. you whined, feeling yourself so close before he just departs. “fun time’s fuckin’ over,” and then he spanks your ass for probably the countless time, getting off of you. “mhm. my bad, doll. i’ll throw ya some cash for a new box spring the next time i see ya.”

no he won’t.

𖬺 — SATORU GOJO.

he’d come home pissed off, probably from losing a battle and he’s so annoyed. gojo isn’t used to losing, and he’d rather not talk to you about it in full detail. at least not yet.

“hey baby. was work okay?”

“princess, i need you.”

his voice was richly raspy, gojo sounded kind of needy. you stared at him, and his hair was all ruffled and tangled—a bit of his clothes had a few battling rips and spreads.

he needed you badly. his eyes roaming across your pretty physique only made things far more intense. that sundress you wore, it showed off your curves and he just only then imagined it being torn off of you. “i-i’m so annoyed, but i’ve been thinkin' about you all day…. ‘m kinda hard too.”

“come here then, baby.”

those simple four words that came from your mouth—all it took for him to go straight feral.

within seconds, he didn’t waste no time to press his hot lips onto yours.

gojo was aching, just the way your hands roamed all on his clothes made him shiver. you were the one who started to shiver next, the moment he’s got you laid flat on your back in a simple mating press.

“f—fuck,” he’d groan, and you can’t help but be so noisy. the way he’s jackhammering his thickset cock in and out of you. squelch after squelch, your legs just mindlessly sway and droop over him before you whimper. that’s when you feel gojo dip his hips even further into you. his rhythm, it had your head spinning, mind racing. it was indescribable, your pussy coated his entire length with nothing but your satiny glossy slick. “look at me,” he grumps out. you nearly throb, seeing him get all close up to your face. he’s heavily panting, heaving whilst pretty cerulean eyes stare right back at you. intently.

he was balls deep, his thrusts became extremely vulgar. soft white clouds of breath run past his lips before he grabs underneath your chin.

“damn. ‘s all her fuckin' fault,” he grouses cutely. a near pout then spreads onto his lips. you furrow an eyebrow—confused by what he meant as 'her' before with a free hand, he grabs onto your ankle. his eyes avert towards your sloppy pussy before grunting. “been thinkin’ about this pussy all day. think that’s why i lost, princess,” and his breathing was so hitched, driving such merciless thrusts into you. “got me s-so damn distracted. all ‘cause of a pussy this wet.”

“i’m the reason you lost?” you moan with a sly smile pressing against your lips. gojo’s still maintaining a grip on your chin, he then intakes a sharp breath—only then deepening his jagged thrusts against your entrance. “tell me more baby.”

he’s so careless, such vigorous thwacks going back and forth against you. it gives you whiplash. eyes nearly crosses and tasting your own sweetened saliva salivate inside of your mouth, you return his eye contact. he fucks you like he hates you—when in reality, he loves you more than an anything.

“mhm. right when i was about to get the job done, started thinkin about….about…fillin' you up,” and he swallows thickly at the thought, envisioning the entire thing in his mind. you whimper once he grabs ahold of your ankle, you’re jerking against the sofa with the stupidest expression. “stuffin' you full ‘n then plugging it back in when it spills. was so pissed when i realized i was daydreaming.”

just saying it aloud makes him palpitate. it was an ongoing race with his heart, beating quickly as he gave you such rugged hits against your entrance. your legs, oh how he loved the way they’d just jangle right beside his face. gojo found himself creating soft bike marks near your ankle, groaning out a, “you make it s-so hard to be mad at you,”and gojo’s voice cutely cracksz he can’t help but lean right into you the moment he feels in self grow full to the upmost extreme. he had so much to give you, his kisses—now they were sloppy.

as he’s plummeting solid lengthy inches in and out of your cunt that forevermore gripped him, gojo leans in to kiss you. he whines the moment you kiss back, feeling your legs lock around his slim waist, the heel of your foot skims against all of his forbidden battle scars. he was so sensitive there, he tasted sweet. enchanting.

“mine,” he groans, slowing his hips down briefly before reaching a hand down towards your tummy. his hips stutter before that’s right when he came, licking the side of your mouth before panting once he poured deep ropes of cum inside of you. “s—so pretty like this,” and his hand roams near your belly, so soft and tender. he pulls out just to stare at the pretty ring you had that coats around the base of his dick. a rich sheeny color, he licks his lips before pressing another wet kiss against your mouth. “you’d look so much prettier with a round belly. wanna give you a baby or two,” and then he moans once he feels your legs lock around his waist even tighten. “if—if you’d let me, pretty girl.”

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miguelswifey04 · 9 months

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May I request Miguel “The wilderness must be explored” O’Hara insisting on eating the reader out even though the reader hasn’t had time to go get their usual waxing done?

oh god yes! i love your brain 🧠 <3

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“relax, i don’t care if you’ve waxed or not.” miguel rolled his eyes in a playful manner as he gripped onto your plush thighs. his fingers were digging into the edges of your thighs as they dipped into the pillowy areas—leaving finger marks. you slightly closed your legs on his face as you felt your cheeks warm up at his comment.

“but—miguel, i really haven’t waxed wouldn’t that make you feel—” miguel cut you off as his grip loosened a bit and went up to meet your face as he gave you a soft kiss against your lips, “i promise you, i don’t care whether you have shaved or not. please let me taste you, sweetheart.” he reassured you multiple times as he promised you he didn’t mind at all. you simply nodded while you felt yourself get wetter as miguel traced hot hungry kisses on your breasts for more reassurance. he did so to ease your nervousness. he tore your bra off in one swift motion and he massaged your small perky breasts, bringing his face up close. he always praised for how beautiful and perfect you were in his eyes no matter what. he then took one breast in his hand while he latched his lips onto your other hardened peak. he suckled gently and harshly earning moans from your pretty mouth. he took his time with you as his main focused was to play and caresses your nipples. he loved how wet you’d get every time he’d give attention to your perky breasts, and with that miguel teasingly brought his hand down to your damp panties. he could feel how swollen your clit was as he gently circled your clit with your fingers in a teasing manner. your body trembled and jolted from the immense pleasure…it was pretty stimulating since you were always so sensitive.

“ah, sensitive as always, don’t worry you’ll be screaming my name when i eat you out.” miguel’s lips left your hardened peaks with a pop as he lowered himself down to your wet panties. god he could smell just how wet you were which made his cock harden and slightly twitch within the confines of his boxers. “you smell so good…”

with one hook of his fingers miguel brought your panties to the side seeing a few strings of your wetness connected to your panties. you were a mess and to say you were also nervous was an understatement. this was your first time miguel was going to eat you out where you haven’t shaved at all. miguel looks up at you with hungry and lust in his eyes. all you could do was nod giving him your permission to eat you out. so, miguel grabbed the back of your thighs angling your knees to meet your chest so he could have the perfect view of your hairy pussy. he couldn’t lie to himself the view of your hairy pussy made him harder than other times where you’ve shaved. his warm breath ghosting against your most intimate of areas. he could see the way your pussy and the tight hole of your ass clench around over nothing.

without hesitation, his tongue darts out to swipe along your folds, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. his movements are purposeful, his tongue skillfully exploring every sensitive spot, flicking and teasing with precision. “you taste so fucking good, muñeca.”

the sensation is electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. miguel’s devotion to your pleasure is evident in his fervent efforts, each lick and caress driving you closer to the edge. his hands wander, exploring your curves and guiding you towards the peak of ecstasy. while miguel laps up the excess juices that spilled out from your pussy, he brought his other hand where his thumb rubbed small gentle circles on your other hole. he would casually dip his thumb inside the tight hole of your ass as you moaned out his name. “mmm-mmiguel mmmmm, deeper-” he always liked to give you the upmost pleasure and he loved seeing you so weak under his control. he fingered your ass with his thumb while focusing on making out with your pretty hairy pussy.

moans of delight escape your lips as his skilled tongue brings you to the brink of release, the intensity building within you. the power and control you exert over miguel, even in this role reversal, fuels your desire further, heightening the pleasure coursing through your veins. he would dip a couple fingers inside your soaking pussy that was coated with his saliva as he continued to suck and circle his tongue against your clit. your thighs squeeze his face as he grunts over on your swollen clit.

as you reach your climax, you whole body convulses as you feel the warm rush of your essence coating miguel’s face. he continues to lap up your essence with unyielding dedication, his own desire evident in the way he devours every drop. he slightly let’s go of your legs as you meet his gaze. his chin is wet from your essence and he licks his fingers all clean right in front of you. “you always taste so good…but i’m not done with you wet.” your face contorts in a confused look as miguel brings you closer to the edge of the bed as he stands up right in front of you. “get ready because i can go for a couple rounds.”

———

a/n: good god 😩

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv x reader #miguel spiderman #spider person #miguel o’hara x y/n #spidersona #ao3 works #miguel x you #miguel o’hara smut #🌱 lin writes

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osaevsky · 4 months

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AKUTAGAWA X GN! READER, ATSUSHI X GN! READER

cw: nsfw, gn reader, oral sex (reader receiving), overstimulation in both, very slight dubcon on akutagawa, mentions of aftercare in his part, atsushi cums untouched, mentions of fingering (&) notes: i believe that's it for the warnings tho it's just a random thought on the virgins before i disappear again.

i feel like both akutagawa and atsushi would eat out their partner for their own pleasure instead.

akutagawa would do it at first to learn how you work, what you don't enjoy so he doesn't repeat it, what makes you sound louder, how to make you cry in pleasure.

he is glad to see goosebumps appear on your skin as he begins to work on your body. even if he starts off clumsy, he will compensate with his hands.

he discovers rather sooner than later that he likes to grip you, a lot. he uses his hands to hold you in place, spread your legs apart each time a little further, till he can hear you wince in pain. that's when he stops, although he is sure to push you to that limit every time.

almost subconciously, he begins to dive his tongue a little further as well, the grip he has on your flesh never ending as his fingertips dig into your skin to the point of leaving bruises behind.

akutagawa would be too focused on using his mouth to pleasure you and make sure you remain still that he would forget to use his fingers most of the time. he is too busy getting himself worked up with your taste, skin, sounds... to even think of being knuckles-deep inside you anymore.

if you ask tho, he will do it. how can he refuse when you give him the best fucked-out face he could ever ask for? he craves to see your eyes rolling to the back of your skull while your fingers grasp at his hair. he loves that, as well as it compensates the sore jaw he will have by the time he is finished with you.

he will overstimulate you on purpose. akutagawa does not back away, even if you already came a bunch of times on his tongue, or his chin is drenched. he will not get enough of you, not even with those weak ''no more, please.''

it only fuels him to see you so wreaked, and only with his mouth. but once he gets his fill, he will be the best lover you could ask for, cleaning up any stains on the sheets, covering your neck and face with gentle kisses and whispering a 'thank you' at the end.

atsushi would not be that clumsy. yeah, he is inexperienced, but the lack of experience in his side only makes his movements rather slow, more precise, as he watches closely each reaction to see how it's going.

he does not dive into your body unless you say it's okay. his tongue is so careful that you try to push your hips further into his mouth. hell, not even his fingers are approaching your hole at any given point unless you're begging him, and that not only surprises him but it's also a huge turn on.

seeing you beg for him? for him to put his fingers inside of you? that gets his hips flush against the mattress, rutting against the surface while his fingers are working on stretching you out.

he doesn't realize it, as his gaze is focused on you. your face, your body, the occasional jerk of your hips, how your fingers are intertwining with his on the hand that remains free next to you.

atsushi doesn't realize it until you call out his name. broken moans spilling out of your mouth as the pleasure builds up way faster than before, much more quicker than when he started, a coil in the pit of your stomach as you say his name while a wall of tears forms behind your eyes.

'atsu- atsushi, fuck-' rings constantly inside his ears, his hips rutting harder against the surface before he feels his cock throbbing. yeah, it's becoming unbearable even for him. he wants you to cum so bad, but he also needs it.

atsushi would overstimulate you, just like akutagawa, but on accident, finally making you cum and wanting to see it again, his tongue and fingers working on your body till you plead for him to stop.

he does, but you can tell he doesn't want to pull away, or move, at all. not only because his mind is hazy, he also doesn't want you to see the stain on his own pants.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd drabbles #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #atsushi smut #bsd atsushi #atsushi x reader #bungou stray dogs atsushi #akutagawa bsd #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa smut #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x you #atsushi x you

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lady-lunaaa · 2 years

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Chapter 4-

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter

Pairing: Pirate!Mikey x Goddess!reader

Rating: MATURE, minors do not interact

Warnings: pirate au, female reader, found family, training/self-defence (probably described less than accurately, gimme a break), lots of sexual tension between reader and Mikey, slight angst as always, panic (trauma related), oh and Baji being a lil shit (affectionate)

WC: 3.8k

a/n: it's been a long and hard week (family emergency) so I cut this chapter short so that you guys would still get something on schedule, which actually turned out for the best, because this training scene ran away from me a lil'. Thank you to my wonderful wife @dabilove27 for being beta and checking it over for me so quickly! I love you 💙 Hope you all enjoy <3 and dw, next chapter we get some healing and an apology!

Link to collab

Lullaby: ☠

It has been almost a month with your new body; almost a month aboard The Maiden; almost a month sharing your every waking moment with its crew. And you find yourself fitting in surprisingly well, the men make it easy, and the hard but simple labour is oddly fulfilling. You have a purpose, at last. You have…friends. A fact you found hard to accept at first, hard to navigate, after centuries of being alone with nothing but your thoughts. But they are your odd, ragtag team of friends, and you are glad for it.

Suya quickly became your favourite, your confidant. You are more grateful for him and his kindness than you can ever express, his care and gentle honesty the only thing that grounded you during your first week aboard the ship. Even now, you still hold onto him like a stubborn child with their security blanket, never quite at ease unless he is near. To give him his dues, he doesn't seem to mind, even enjoys your company. You like to think, anyway. And in your afternoons together he has even been teaching you how to read and write, a skill you never thought you would master.

The other men dug into your good graces with the same determination and ease. Baji is your newly-minted, chaotic best friend. No other gets you to laugh like the long-haired, toothy pirate does. He even brings out that sly and playful side to you that has lain dormant for too long.

Sweet-faced, and equally as sweet-mannered, Chifu reminds you so much of your little brother. Sometimes too much, and you have adopted him as such, taking him under your wing and, according to Baji, "coddlin' him like the baby he is".

The scarred and stocky Pah, and tall and tattooed Draken, have become like older brothers to you. Always watching over you, always offering their considerable strength when it isn't wanted, and always teasing you when the opportunity arises. Despite being the butt of many of their jokes, you laugh anyway, giving as good as you get. It feels…pleasant, to be treated as one of the crew, part of the family. So very pleasant.

Of course, there is one vital cog to this well-oiled machine that you have yet to mention. Simply, because you don't know what he means to you, how to even begin characterising your relationship. Well, he's your captain. Not your captain. The captain. Which is something you remind yourself of every time you run into him in your shared quarters. Each time you catch him training with the others shirtless. And the memorable time you tripped over a bucket and he caught you, heated skin pressed against your own as he laughed at your flustered face and the rude gesture you gave him in response.

Honestly, you try to avoid him as much as you can, becoming comfortable with the others is one thing, a simple thing. But becoming comfortable around the captain feels like another entirely; a complex thing, an impossible thing; a thing you don't want to unpack just yet. But Gods, does he make it difficult, especially when he is training half-bare in front of you like that. His exposed muscles shining with sweat and rippling with each powerful and precise movement. He moves with an assured fluidity, like water over pebbles, adjusting his body around the onslaught of fists from Draken. But those movements are quick, lightning fast, you've never seen anyone move like it. It takes your breath away.

Which is unfortunate, because you could do with your breath for your own training, currently being led by Mitsuya. He eyes you with a knowing look as he jabs at your shoddy defences, your mind elsewhere, too distracted to properly fight and remember to keep your guard up.

"Eyes on me, little warrior," his voice teases, but his eyes are stern, and you immediately feel bad for not utilising this time he is giving you to the fullest.

"Sorry, 'Suya," you mumble apologetically, and you mean it. But you smile at the nickname, one he finds more apt than Baji's 'little lady', and he smiles back.

You try to focus on the man in front of you, it's a rare and wonderful sight to see Mitsuya fighting. He may seem mild-mannered and gentle, and is usually using his arsenal of intellect and strategy as the ship's navigator, but he has proved to you that he is just as capable physically as any of the others. He is skilled and strong and has taken down Pah and Baji many a time, even Draken last week, which the first mate still swears never happened.

You melt into the correct stance and focus your eyes on the lavender ones in front of you, you have to catch Mitsuya's movements from your peripherals and react immediately if you stand a chance against him. Your first few training sessions ended with you on the floor every single time, and he made a point of telling you that your movements were too predictable, that you were looking at the move you were going to make rather than your target. Which, in turn, made it all too easy for him to combat your offensive, swiping away your ineffective fists like they were flies.

You have grown since then, learnt how to move your body effectively, and built muscle from endless hours of ship work and training. It feels good to finally feel comfortable in your own skin, for movement and sensation to feel second nature to you. You like to think that you are at least an inconvenience to Suya now, after all the hard work and dedication you have put in.

You start off better this time, blocking his attacks and attempts to knock you on your ass, a delicate dance around the stern in the weak morning sun. But a loud clap soon diverts your attention.

Captain and first mate, clapping their hands together and thumping each others backs, such men. You fight to contain an eye roll and narrowly miss Mitsuya's fist to your face, ducking low and aiming a jab at his knees, he knocks it aside with enough force to send you stumbling back a step as you straighten.

You raise your fists and move to one side, he follows. You assess him slowly, trying to anticipate his next move, looking for potential weak points in his defence.

But all too soon, your eyes trail back to your ultimate distraction, and widen very (you can only imagine) comically. Mikey just dumped nearly a whole bucket of seawater over Draken, and seeing as Kenny is also a child, he extended his captain the same courtesy. It's obscene how the image before you plays out in slow motion. Mikey's hands running through his wet hair to slick it out of his eyes, ringed fingers sifting through the blonde strands, arms flexing. His now soaked trousers clinging to toned thighs, thighs you hadn't noticed are quite so muscular.

Baji descends from the rigging directly in front of you, spooking the wits out of you and pulling a yell from Mitsuya, who jumps back. Baji cackles from his upside-down position, arms crossed over his toned chest and legs hooked over the thick ropes above you. Like a damned spider in his web.

"Fuck Baj! Do you have to?!" Your heart is in your throat as you reprimand your friend, who is definitely here to stir shit judging by the look on his face.

"As a matter of fact, I do! So, who you lookin' at, little lady?" He waggles his thick eyebrows at you and you sigh, rolling the tension out of your shoulders.

"You, dumbass." You reply drily, crossing your arms over your own chest. Another thing you learnt from the boys, how to cuss like a true sailor, and you've found you like it considerably. You are once again wearing some old clothes of the captains to train in, and thankfully, bindings around your chest to keep your breasts out of the way. Your hair is braided to keep it out of your face, and despite the early hour, the sun still shines down on the vessel mercilessly coating you in a sheen of sweat. You will be thankful for a proper wash with clean water once you reach The Cape.

"Nuh uh, try again," he accentuates his dismissal of your answer with a flick to your forehead.

You yelp and glare at the obnoxiously smug face inches from your own, his long hair hanging in a sheet of onyx below him. If eyes could alight, yours would be twin flames of hellfire right now. Baji had, at some point, noticed the not so sly looks you throw his captain's way. The slight shiver you exhibit whenever you accidentally brush his hand during mealtime or bump into him on your way to bed as he's leaving his study.

Maybe he's also noticed the way the captain seems stiff around you, never quite at ease, always too close or too far from you and never that comfortable in between. Either way, he's noticed, and you hate him a little bit for it. For not looking away and keeping his mouth shut like the rest of them, who definitely noticed this development long ago, but then that isn't Baji's style.

"My sweet Kei," you coo at him with saccharine venom coating your tongue, "I don't know what you could possibly mean."

He snorts loudly at that, "Come oooon, you were practically droolin' over his wet abs with that stupid look you get on ya fa-"

He's interrupted by a shove from Mitsuya, swinging wildly to the side with a shout. You are thankful for the intervention until you realise why. Mikey waltzes up behind Baji and stands with his hands in his pockets, assessing the lack of work going on.

"Baji, fuck off up into the crows nest, some of us actually have work to be getting on with," he pins you and Suya with that obsidian stare and you squirm in place.

Baji hoists himself upright with ease and ascends the rigging with a mock salute, scurrying away like the cowardly bastard he is. You send up a silent prayer; Gods, please do not let Mikey have heard the words from that traitor's mouth.

"Mitsuya, I think you're going easy on her," he drawls, his stance as casual as his tone, but there's a hard edge to him this morning that you cannot decipher.

Mitsuya blinks at his captain before responding, "I think someone's a little distracted this morning," he throws you a small smile and you look anywhere but at the captain, willing the deck to swallow you whole, "but she's better; learning. Her form is good, we just need to work on the power behind it."

Mikey eyes your form, from head to toe, "You're being generous, Takashi, it's mediocre at best, nothing to write home about."

You start at the insult, a wicked gleam shines in those black eyes, a predatory smile in those full lips. Someone is feisty today, courtesy of the rigorous training, no doubt. Men and their half-wild instincts, a little sparring and they are all fired up.

You lift your chin, indignation burning bright in your gaze, "Well, if you think I'm so inadequate, then why don't you teach me yourself," you say coldly, refusing to give in to the playful invitation in those damned eyes.

Mitsuya whistles low and long, and steps back from your interaction, retreating to Draken's side. Another coward, you think bitterly, shooting him a betrayed look. He merely shrugs his shoulders and Draken gives you a wide grin as if to say you started this one on your own.

Mikey strides over to where Suya was just standing and motions for you to get into position. You stare at him; no way is he actually going through with your empty taunt? But there he is, standing in front of you with that passive look…waiting.

Fine, if that's the way it is, two can play this game, especially as you did kind of start it. You have a feeling you are going to regret your stubborn will as you get into your usual stance and stare into those bottomless eyes. And you do regret it as soon as you begin the offensive, tired of waiting for his first move, and he merely side steps every jab with his hands still lost in his pockets.

Oh great, he doesn't even have to use his arms to parry your blows, they are not even close to landing. But you persevere, you can't back down now, that would somehow be more embarrassing.

So, you continue your assault, looking for weak points. The knees, his chin or neck, perfectly exposed to you with his hands in his pockets, but you can't even get close. He has reflexes like a cat, you vaguely remember a few strays on the island who used to quick-dodge the grabby hands of the toddlers, there one second and gone the next. And that is the captain, he moves so fast you can barely keep up your own attack.

Watching his skill is one thing but being up against it is another entirely. You let your emotions get the better of you, anger welling up in your chest and causing your movements to become erratic. You are putting too much into your punches, your body lunging forwards with each one, exposing you to attack. Your frustration is making you careless and you can only imagine the look on Suya's face right now, but it's not like it matters. The captain isn't retaliating anyway, he just stands there with his hands in his pockets, side-stepping every effort you make to land a hit. You'd be happy with just a graze, any contact at all, that would be a win in your books.

You grit your teeth, reining in your growing rage, and attempt to outsmart him. If you can, for even a second, then maybe you can land a hit. You feint to your left, making it obvious that you are going to strike his leg with your right foot, his eyes follow the movement and you take your chance.

But as quickly as your arm extends towards his exposed face, his hand shoots up and grabs your wrist in an iron lock. Before you can even curse or register the movement and how to break free, he yanks you toward him, using your stumble and confusion to spin you round and plant your back against his chest. He has you in a choke hold in a matter of seconds.

You freeze, like a deer in the forest the minute it is spotted by the hunter, that precious, wasted second before the fight or flight instinct kicks in. Your heart is pounding so heavily you can hear the whoosh of your blood in your ears, the throbbing of your pulse in your temple. He's so close, every solid edge of him pressed against you, his muscled forearm putting pressure against your windpipe. The action makes you dizzy and all too aware of the way your throat bobs as you swallow.

You can feel his own heartbeat against your shoulder blade, thumping hard and fast, and you wonder why because he barely lifted a finger during this "fight". You stand there in his hold for what could be seconds or hours, thoughts syrupy and arms trembling at your sides. Why isn't he letting go?

It's then that he presses his cheek into the side of your face, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you jump. Your body goes rigid, straining against his as alarm bells ring through your skull and dampen your senses.

But then he speaks, low and calm, "Get out of the hold."

You try to register the words, body too preoccupied with where your skin meets his, with the arm around your throat.

"W-what?" You gasp out, the words catching on the choke hold, forcing their way up.

"Get out of the hold." His voice is plain, devoid of emotion as he says it simply, almost casually; as if it should be the easiest thing in the world for you to achieve.

Your skin crawls with goosebumps and your heart rate pitches. It's as if his command gives your muscles permission to work. You immediately begin thrashing in his grasp, trying to break his grip with your hands, scratching at his arm like a wild animal. But he is a solid wall of muscle and you are surprised at just how strong he is. His arm is still around your neck, not painful but firm, and your attempts to kick his shins remain unsuccessful.

Panic floods through your system as you blindly scrabble at whatever part of him gives you purchase, anything to pinch and scratch at. He merely holds firm, as if your struggle is nothing, slipping his other hand out of his pocket to pin your body back against him by your waist.

A low rumble goes through you as he speaks again, louder this time, to be heard over your gasping, "Remember what you've been taught, don't panic."

Easy for him to say. He is stronger. He is in control. He is not the one pinned in a choke hold with no way to escape, with a hand at his waist- the image of a hook pressing into your flesh flashes through your mind, and the breath fanning over the side of your face is no longer that of the man who stands behind you, it's Hanma. Hanma, as he leers down at you with that wicked grin.

A sob rises from your chest, and the hand at your waist loosens at the same time the arm around your throat does. You let out a ragged breath, hands tightening around his arm and pulling, trying to yank it from around your neck.

"Chin down," he barks at you.

"Wh-" you stutter over the word, confusion once more fogging your brain, as you try to push against the suffocating memories and panic obscuring your vision.

"Tuck your chin into your chest, now."

You obey at the pure command in his tone. At the low and smooth voice of your captain, you realise, not the scratchy and threatening voice of a hook-handed pirate. You push the panic down and focus on his voice, on your task. You tuck your chin, pressing hard against his arm, loosening the pressure against your airways.

"Good. Now drop your hand and aim for my groin with a fist," he continues in that level and commanding tone, but you think you hear it soften slightly as he praises you.

"Remember you asked for it," you manage to quip, finding your voice at last.

He chuckles as you swing a fist down and he blocks it with his hand. Of course, reflexes like a cat. He earned that groin punch, maybe one day you'll be good enough at this to give it to him.

"Good girl, now while I'm preoccupied, bring your elbow up into my chin, hard."

You do just that, trying to ignore the thrill you feel hearing him say good girl, and jab your elbow up until you meet his waiting palm. Before he even needs to tell you, you are ducking out of his loosened grip and turning to face him, adrenaline coursing through your system.

"Good. Practice that until it's second nature." He looks serious and something else that you can't quite interpret as he looks at you. His posture is nonchalant, as it always is, effortless. Your heart races and rage simmers underneath your skin. You take a step toward him, ready to give him a piece of your mind, when your legs are swept out from underneath you.

He catches you before you hit the floor, a hand at your back and the other around your wrist once again. But the grip is loose, his thumb resting lightly over your pulse point. It sends a shiver skittering down your spine, nerves electrified with tension and adrenaline. His face is so close yet so far from your own, mere inches away but it feels like a gulf between you. Your breath comes in quick gasps.

You want to stay angry at him, not give in to the desires of your flesh, but your body wins out over your mind. You hate the way your blood rushes through your veins, singing beneath your skin, calling out to him. You hate the way your body has an urge to press against his own, to arch your back further into his arms. You especially hate the way your eyes automatically flick down to his mouth, even after the thoughtless and borderline cruel stunt he just pulled.

You hate him at this moment, and yet…you want to pull him closer, want to slot your lips against his and channel all that anger and fear and frustration into the kiss. You want to get lost in the emotion, in his touch, and finally put these thoughts to rest.

But then he pulls you up and steps away, and the fragile moment shatters like glass. He looks at you a moment longer, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if his breathing is a little ragged. You wish you could see inside that head of his, know exactly what he is thinking right now.

He takes a sharp breath before finally tearing his gaze from yours and striding off towards his study (his usual hiding place these days it seems).

"'M done, Kenny! We can continue tomorrow, I want you to actually put some effort in next time," he practically sings the little jab at Draken's ego and laughs when his first mate gives him the finger.

You stand in place where Mikey left you, bare feet warming on the wooden deck. The sun is higher in the sky now and the temperature is rising steadily, time to get to work. As soon as the captain is out of sight, your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh. Suya is suspiciously absent, and you wonder at which point during your little training exercise he scurried off. Draken, very smartly, doesn't say anything and makes himself busy rounding up the crew to begin their day's work.

You take a few more deep breaths, still reeling from what just happened, how close you were to the captain, how close you were to-

You hear a shrill whistle and look up to see Baji's face hanging over the railing from the crows nest, his stupid, thick eyebrows raised at you. That signature shit-eating grin is on his face, the one that says 'I saw everything'. It seems he takes his lookout duties very seriously, as long as the sight is on deck and deemed entertaining by his lizard brain. You grit your teeth and spit out a response to his unspoken remark, which no doubt would have been vulgar and obnoxious.

"Don't you fucking dare say a word."

Thanks so much for reading! 💙

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unhingedselfships · 10 months

Text

Kenshi is very angry and Kimi pays for it

CW : threats of violence, minor injury

It had been a little over a week and she was still mulling everything she’d learned from Kadokura's brother.

Mind you, she still didn’t care for the man, and didn’t want to help him but.

Well she’d really just wanted him to leave them alone.

Meeting him had been meant to achieve that. To give a firm and final “please don’t contact us”.

In the process, she’d found out some things. Things she’d never bring up. Things she hadn’t wanted to know.

Not without him telling her.

Regardless, she knew them now.

Part of her wished she didn't.

It was what it was.

Kenshi was visiting today. Had flown down for the week, not unusual really.

While she was looking forward to it, she was nervous too.

Would the weight of what she knew be too much?

His family was a very touchy subject for him, the brother especially, and she was a terrible liar when it came to the ones she loved.

She slipped up the stairs to her apartment, he preferred meeting her there over the family home, and tried the door.

Locked. He always locked it, unlike her.

With an amused sigh she slid in the key and slipped through the door.

"I'm home~" her cheery call.

No answer. Hmm. He must have been in a bad mood.

Oh well. She could handle him.

Making her way down the entry and into the front room, she spotted him and froze.

Rabbit heart aflutter.

He sat, casual, in one of the chairs.

Face blank.

Bowie knife resting on his thigh.

Eyes dark.

Dark and terrifyingly fathomless.

And she knew he knew.

"Oh. Oh. Kenshi," she breathed out a whisper, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-" she choked on something, fear perhaps, "You know what they say about cats and curiosity." a soft nervous laugh, dancing on the edge of hysteria.

He tilted his head at her, still silent. Observing every line of her.

The rigid tension.

The trembles.

The way her lip quivered.

Eyes wide and frightened.

He didn't think he'd ever seen her look at him with such fear before.

It might have amused at one point.

Bothered him at another.

Here?

And now?

He didn't feel anything.

He rose, slow. Indolent.

Purposeful.

Hand wrapped, firm but gentle, around the hilt.

His favorite knife.

He stalked, prowled, across the room.

The movements of a predator.

Confident in a distant way.

Knowing of his superiority.

How easily his prey could, would, fall to him.

Such a fragile little thing she was.

So easy to bend.

To break.

He circled her, slowly.

Carelessly.

Until he was at her back.

He stood, silent, behind her, her breath coming in shuddering pants.

Fits and starts.

Unsteady.

She didn't try to run.

Smart.

But she also wouldn't look at him.

Wouldn't speak.

Could she?

If she tried?

He slipped closer, looming over her.

His arm a steel bar, pinning her across the waist, her back against his chest.

The edge of the knife pressing, gently, delicately, almost intimately, against the soft skin of her throat.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Heartbeats.

Labored breaths.

Time passed.

As it always did.

Yet so terribly slowly.

He leaned just barely, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Tell me you've learned your lesson, Kimberly."

Had his control been any less, had there been any fault in his precision, the shudder that rolled through her body, would have left her bloody.

But he was without flaw, and allowed naught but the slightest nick.

A mark.

A memory.

"Tell me you're sorry."

The deep breath, a desperate gasp, pressed her closer to him.

"M'sorry. M'sorrym'sorrym'sorry," a whispered chant.

Apologies falling from her lips like delicate petals.

Slipping out and vanishing into the air.

He rubbed his cheek against hers, an act so intimate, threatening, and her breath lost rhythm again.

He could feel her heart, pounding out an irregular beat, fluttering forcefully against him.

Would the poor little thing give out?

She should have known better.

This was her own fault.

Her weakness was her own flaw to bear.

What would be, would be.

His breath ghosted against her skin again.

"Tell me you're never going to go behind my back like this again."

Her fingers dug into the arm holding her in place.

Whether she wanted to push or pull, to slip away or press ever closer, was a mystery to both of them.

It didn't matter.

She wasn't going anywhere.

"No, no no, no no no never, never, never" the words, the mantra, slipped, wisps in the air, delicate.

He hummed, noncommittal, as if he hadn't decided whether to believe her yet or not.

The sound vibrated through her and she whimpered.

"Make it up to me."

A command. A compulsion. Irresistible.

She keened, and pressed herself into him.

"How? Tell me how? Please- pleasepleaseplease-"

He chuckled darkly, letting the knife trace a thin, shallow line across her pale, delicate flesh, as he pulled away.

Spinning her around almost violently, free hand clamping down on her shoulder, thumb tracing against the edge of the mark, his mark.

A pretty red reminder.

He tapped the flat of the blade against her cheek, and gave her a cold, wicked smile.

"This was your fuck up, princess, you figure it out."

#yakkimi #kadokura kenshi #kadokura-verse #drabble #one shot

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moonknightly · 3 years

Text

now all you see is red : santiago garcia x reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

Excerpt: “There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.”

Warnings: Smut (18+), choking, spanking, light bondage, dom/sub dynamic, light degradation/humiliation, rough sex, angry sex, dirty talk

Santiago is familiar with anger.

He knows it well, he’s used to the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth, the smoke he can never fully push from his lungs, the way flames lick at his fingertips as his blood boils in his veins. He’s used to the sharp bite and unrelenting sting, he knows the exact sound his fist is going to make when it meets drywall, can hear each bone crack on impact and can feel the sensation of his knuckles splitting open, can visualize the black and blue bruises that will mark his skin for weeks to come.

They might as well be permanent, he never feels like himself without those damn bruises anymore. They’ve become an integral part of him, just like the scar on the back of his neck and the weight he carries on his shoulders day in and day out.

Just like his anger.

He needs it, he doesn’t remember how to get through without it. Anger isn’t a stranger to the ex soldier, but a lover.

It’s a dance so intimate, one he’s performed thousands and thousands of times before. It keeps him grounded, reminds him that he’s real, that he’s here. He’s alive and he’s breathing, he’s not lying at the bottom of a ditch in a foreign country with a bullet in his side, rotting. He made it out, he’s earned his temper.

He’s in control. He has the power, and nothing is going to hurt him again. He won’t let it.

Except, that’s not entirely true.

There’s you, and God, Santi would let you completely ruin him.

And you have, you so have. You’ve fucking wrecked him, but he refuses to let you see it, he doesn’t even fully understand it himself. In all of the years you’ve known each other, Santi’s been able to keep that little secret to himself, and he’s not about to give it up now, he doesn’t need that shit.

What he needs is the control back in the palm of his hand after losing it for the last week. He needs to feel some sense of power after spending seven days in unfamiliar territory, feeling utterly torn apart by grief and worry.

They’d lost contact with you on your last assignment, and an entire week had gone by without so much as a word until you suddenly showed up at base, seemingly fine. Santi hadn’t been able to find even a scratch on your perfect skin, and he’d checked several times just to be sure. You’re fine.

But Santi isn’t. Fuck, he is so fucking far from fine, he feels like he’s going to be sick. His initial relief is fading fast, threatening to turn into something that he has no desire to feel, something he doesn’t know how to handle. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t need it.

He needs his control, his power. He needs familiarity.

So he latches onto the subtlest spark of anger the moment it strikes. He takes it and he fucking runs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

His voice is eerily calm, almost chilling and it doesn’t waiver for even a second. It’s collected while the rest of him isn’t, but it’s enough to get him through. It’ll do.

“What do you mean?”

You’re sitting at the end of the bed, unlacing your boots, desperate to get out of them and into something comfortable. Santi keeps his eyes glued to you, tracking your every movement with expert precision that he’s spent his entire life mastering.

“A week. You went a fucking week without report.”

You seem almost annoyed, and really, you are — you’d spent the last hour getting the same lecture from your boss, you don’t need it from your boyfriend too even though it’s inevitable, so you shrug in response, and Santiago feels another white hot flash.

It’s perfect. He’ll take it.

“It would’ve compromised the mission, he was onto me. I’m fine.”

You’re fine. He laughs bitterly at that.

“I’m glad you’re fine, princesa,” he hums, not thinking about how he enunciates his words as he stalks towards you, painstakingly slow, brown eyes never straying from his target.

He’s quick, his reflexes sharp, and he has your chin between his fingers before you even register his hand moving.

“But that’s not a fucking excuse. You know your safety comes before anything else and we had no way to help you.”

“But I was safe.”

“But how were we supposed to know that, huh?” He shakes your head in his grip, like it’s enough to get you to see his way. “You could’ve been dead for all we knew. Do you have any idea what-”

He stops himself. That unfamiliar emotion is bubbling in the pit of his stomach again, and he pushes it away, down, down, down where it can’t touch him, can’t hurt him.

He needs another spark.

But now, he’s struggling to find it, and it’s clear. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you watch him wrestle with himself and hesitate, and he panics when your lips part because he knows you’re getting ready to ask him if he’s okay and he doesn’t fucking want you to. He doesn’t want to answer you.

So he just growls again, his hand moving to the back of your neck where he pushes your head forward until your lips meet his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.

It’s all teeth and desperation and frustration and just like your annoyance, it’s perfect. Santi clings to that frustration to fuel his anger again, and he’s satisfied when it works and he feels the familiar tendrils of rage wrap themselves around his body. His free hand moves to your shirt, and he uses his grip to haul you to your feet only to shove you towards the dresser. You catch yourself, knocking a few things off in the process but you don’t care. You love it when he gets like this.

“Santi-”

“No.” He’s behind you again, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back so your neck is perfectly exposed to him, breath hot against your skin. “Don’t you dare say a fuckin’ word, understand?”

You nod obediently — you’ve always taken orders as well as he gives him.

“Good girl.”

He nips at your neck once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth in, biting down, marking you and he smirks when he feels your knees buckle just slightly. You’re struggling to hold yourself up already and he’s hardly touched you.

His hand travels around to the front of your neck and he wraps his fingers around your throat, not applying any pressure, simply just holding them there. He feels your pulse thrum under his fingertips and he counts along for a moment, smirking at just how quick your heart is beating.

“Nervous baby?”

You hesitate, and he feels you gulp, feels the way you shift just slightly under his touch.

“No.”

He tsks, sighing in your ear almost disapprovingly. He lets his grip tighten around your throat, and he revels in the sound of you trying to pull in air before he cuts you off completely.

“Maybe you should be.”

His free hand slams between your shoulder blades and you’re suddenly flat against the dresser, the force of it knocking what little air you had left in your lungs out. He gives you a second, just a second to use your safeword or to tell him to go a little easy, but you don’t.

He knows you’ll tell him if he needs to take it down a notch.

There’s nothing slow or patient about Santiago’s touch. It’s urgent, each movement made with purpose, never lingering, he doesn’t have time for that. He just wants to feel you, just wants to feel that anger and the pleasure and nothing else.

He pulls your jeans down your thighs, not bothering to get them all the way off or worry about your shirt. His eyes are immediately on your ass, and he growls when he sees that you’re wearing his favorite color — red. He loves you in red.

Not enough to save the panties for another day though. He rips them clean off your body, the stretching, tearing sound of fabric making him groan alongside your gasp.

“Open your mouth.”

You don’t hear him the first time, too absorbed in the feeling running through you. He smacks your ass, hard, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. The moan that leaves your lips might just be the most sinful sound Santi has ever heard.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

This time, you hear him, and you obey just like he knew you would, opening your mouth for him to stuff your panties into.

“Fuck I can smell you on them from here princesa.”

He loves it. He loves it so fucking much. He smacks your ass a second time, feeling it turn hot under his touch, then he does it again and again and again until he’s satisfied with the way you flinch, until you’re laying limp against the dresser with tears running down your cheeks.

“Color?”

Like he said before, your safety means more to him than anything else, and through his anger he still always checks in to make sure you’re okay to continue. He never wants it to get to a point where he actually hurts you, even though he knows what your body can take, even though he knows you’d let him, you’d even ask him to.

You can’t speak with your panties in your mouth, but one finger means green, two means yellow, and three means red. You hold up one, and he lands one final blow just to see if your answer changes. You still only hold up one.

“Good girl.”

He grabs your wrists and drags you back towards the mattress, and you immediately fall face down ass up just how you know he likes, but now he hesitates.

His knees are bothering him today, more so than usual, and he doesn’t know if he can kneel behind you long enough to fuck you how he wants to.

That only makes him angrier, feeling like he can’t perform. Feeling like he’s not good enough, like he’s failing in a field where he’s always personally felt like he’s excelled.

All he sees is red and you and it’s the exact distraction he’s been looking for, the perfect combination. His blood burns, his fingers burn, his mind is fucking screaming your name and nothing else. There’s nothing but you and the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s intoxicating, it’s everything, it’s familiar.

“No, no no,” he laughs, shaking his head as he undoes his belt, hastily pulling it through the loops of his jeans. “On your side, hands behind your back.”

He’s on you the second you're in position, tightening his belt around your wrists so you can’t move them, can’t touch him. He chuckles darkly when your fingers wiggle around in search of something to hold onto.

“Poor baby,” he hums, voice completely condescending and he loves the way your eyes roll at the tone of his voice. He loves that you get off on this just as much as he does, he loves that you dance with his temper, that you know it almost as well.

He’s so fucking hard. He can’t wait any longer.

He doesn’t check with his fingers to make sure you’re wet enough to take him, he knows you are. He can smell you, he can see your juices glisten when he hoists your leg up to reveal your pussy to him. You’re always so wet, always so ready for him.

And he’s more than ready for you, stroking himself in the palm of his hand while he looks you over with hungry, dark eyes. His hand is nothing compared to the warmth and pleasure he knows you’ll bring him, there’s not a damn thing in this world that can make him come as hard as you.

He lays behind you, continuing to pump his length as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, nudging at your clit and smearing his precome all around. He can feel you clench, can feel you try to pull him in as you start rocking your hips against him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re acting like a fuckin’ whore for my cock babygirl. You need it, huh? You need me?”

You immediately start trying to beg through your makeshift gag and normally, that would only earn you more teasing but just like you, he can’t take it. He needs you just as much, if not more.

His nails dig into your left hip as he pushes himself against your entrance, leaving little crescent shaped indents in your skin, his grip so tight you both know it’ll bruise but it’s more than fine, it’s so good. He stops, wanting to drag it out for just a moment longer and your begging only continues, growing louder and louder until Santiago finally gives in.

All it takes is one sharp thrust and he’s so deep inside of you, spreading you open on his cock, tearing your walls apart to make room for his length, your bodies flush against each other. His free arm is wrapped underneath your body, his hand finding your neck again as he quickly sets his pace, not giving you more than a single second to even attempt to adjust to him.

It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s dirty and your cunt is squelching around him so deliciously, the sound only pushing him further — he doesn’t know if he wants to slow down so he can listen to it properly or if he wants to go faster.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your ear, his voice gravely and rough and he thrills in the way it makes you shiver. “Fuck you’re so tight, you’re squeezing my fucking dick baby. How’re you this tight?”

You only let out a moan that’s somewhere between a sob and a scream, and that sound alone is so entirely hot in itself, it’s enough to make his toes curl. He wants to pull that noise from you again and again and again, he wants you shaking and gasping and writhing. He starts using your hips for more leverage, knowing that he can get you to cry and whine for him this way.

You squirm and jolt each time he brings you back onto his cock, every time he hits that spot you didn’t believe existed until he fucked you for the first time and he wants to explode as he watches you struggle to take it.

He knows you’ll hold up your fingers if you need him to stop, but he still pulls your panties out of your mouth just so he can hear it, just so can listen for your words. You never say them, you only scream and cry and moan about how good it feels, how he’s pounding your pussy better than anyone ever has and how you never want him to stop.

“Yeah baby?” he purrs, nipping at your earlobe, tugging on it as he thrusts harder and harder. “This my pussy princesa? Tell me.”

“It’s yours,” you sob, clenching around him over and over. “God Santi, it’s yours, I’m yours.”

“That’s fuckin’ right baby, that’s it.”

He tightens his grip around your neck, his left hand moving from your hip to your clit, fingers matching the pace of his thrusts. He’s rubbing you so hard, he’s almost surprised when you angle yourself closer, but that’s his girl. That’s his fucking girl.

Santi can tell you’re close when your sounds grow higher in pitch and when he no longer needs to drag you back into his thrusts — you’re doing all the work for him, moving on your own accord, searching for that last little push you need to get over the edge and he lets you.

He lets you control the pace, lets you take what you need and that’s when that unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling enters his stomach again. He tries to ignore it, tries to push it away, tries to tap back into the anger but once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Now he’s just frustrated, but he doesn’t let himself get distracted, not when you’re on his cock, bringing yourself closer and closer to an orgasm he doesn’t want to miss a second of.

He rolls onto his back suddenly, catching you off guard but he steadies you on top of him and uses your bound wrists to continue rocking you on his length while you get adjusted again. He brings his free hand back to your clit, just like before and it’s not long before you’re right on the brink of coming again. Santi’s right there with you, watching you roll your hips and bounce on his cock, impaling yourself on him again and again. You’re so full of him, he only wants to fill you more.

He thinks he might actually let go first, but then you’re falling apart on top of him in a matter of seconds, sobbing his name so loudly while your thighs quiver and your body trembles. That’s what finally does it for him, and he comes inside of you with a deep groan that echoes in his chest, his back arching completely off the bed in an attempt to get even closer to you. He quickly grabs your hips again so he can continue to piston himself up into you, watching your combined release leak out of your pussy and coat his cock in glistening white. He only moans, quieter this time, and fucks it back into you, his pace slowing as his cock twitches over and over and quickly becomes oversensitive.

He doesn’t forget to undo your hands before he pulls you back onto his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face into your neck. He’s working hard to catch his breath, and he hopes that that’s all you think he’s doing when really, he’s having to put twice as much effort into not falling apart.

His chest is heaving with emotion, his eyes are filling with tears that he refuses to let spill over. His anger is completely gone and only this remains. He doesn’t know how to control it, doesn’t know what to do with it and he hates it. He hates it so much.

And you notice, of course you fucking notice. He’s slow to launch into aftercare and it’s obvious that he’s distracted through it, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Santi, what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t fucking call.”

His voice waivers and cracks and his cheeks immediately turn red, though he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or this feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“What if something happened to you? You didn’t call.”

“Santi,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, and he’s frustrated all over again. Usually he’s so good at reading you, he knows you like the back of his hand, but again he’s unsure about the emotion. He doesn’t know if you’re exasperated or if you’re concerned. He doesn’t wait to find out.

“You have any idea what was going through my head,” he bites, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

He doesn’t see the expression on your face, doesn’t see how his words hit you right in the chest and shatter your heart. He misses the way you swallow the lump in your throat and he doesn’t see your hands start to shake, but he feels them when they cup his cheeks. His shoulders slump at the contact, and then Santi just breaks.

“You didn’t fucking call, why didn’t you fucking call?”

He chokes on a sob, coughing to try and rid himself of it but it doesn’t work. He hides his face into his hands, shoulders shaking as he softly cries and he’s just happy that he’s able to keep himself quiet.

“Oh sweet boy, come here.”

Santi let’s you pull him into your arms, he lets you comfort him in a way he didn’t know he needed, in a way he never even imagined wanting.

And he lets himself feel all of that unwanted emotion, because he needs to get it the fuck out. He doesn’t want to hold onto it like he does with his anger, he doesn’t want it dancing in his veins. He never, ever wants to feel this way again.

Santiago is familiar with anger.

But he’s completely unfamiliar with the fear of losing you. He’s not used to the nausea or the way his hands shake with panic, the way his chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. He’s not used to any of it, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.

But at some point in the middle of the night, he looks up and he sees you, still holding him, still comforting him, and it suddenly hits. Suddenly, he understands.

It’s you.

This is how you’ve ruined him.

You’ve made him feel things he’s been pushing away for so long, things he’s tried so desperately to keep under lock and key where it can never hurt him.

You’ve stripped him of his control, his power. You’ve taken away his anger and you’ve replaced the throbbing bruises on his knuckles, the smoke in his lungs and the blood that paints his vision.

He doesn’t see red, he only sees you.

Santiago is familiar with you.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

thinking about a baker!tom kneading dough... i wanted to say more but honestly, what else could i possibly add

fuck it have an exert from my baker!tom wip that’ll never see the light of day ..... [context: y/n and baker!tom are in his bakery, getting close as they make some loaves of bread. this follows several weeks of teasing banter after y/n decided on doing a house swap w her sister, which has landed her (conveniently) in tom’s village...]

•••••••••

“My arms hurt,” you complain, coupling it with a grimace. “How do you do this every day?”

Tom chuckles. “I do this multiple times a day, love. You get used to it.” He stands back from the counter, flexing his arms, and fuck, the way his biceps curl against his t-shirt draws a shiver down your spine. “Makes me ripped, too.”

You chuckle. “You’re not wrong there,” you mutter, too quietly for him to hear. You continue kneading the dough, moving a lot slower than before, and he stares at the way you work it.

“Your technique is a little wonky,” Tom says, not unkindly. He walks around the counter and settles at your side, so close that you can feel the heat coming from his figure. “You want to be rolling your wrists a little more.” You try to follow his pointers, but he clucks his tongue in disapproval. “Almost, love, almost… It’s more like… No, uh, wait, um. Can I…?” He looks at you questioningly, and you nod your head, not entirely sure what you’ve agreed to do, too distracted by the sparkles in his eyes.

Tom steps behind you. You stay still as he slowly winds his arms around you, propping his chin on your shoulder as he peers over your figure down at the countertop. His hands come down over yours, fingers tangling with yours, and he very carefully and precisely starts to move your hands. He’s warm to touch, and he’s so close to you that you can feel his breath coming out across your cheek. You find yourself wishing he was holding you a little firmer.

“Like this,” Tom murmurs, voice quiet. It feels intimate as he guides you, and you’re breathing shallowly. “Gently, but with purpose. Give it a little force, don’t be scared. Coax it.”

He releases your hands but he stays in place, his chin still on your shoulder and his chest brushed up against your back. It isn’t quite a hug, but it’s teasingly close.

“Like this?” you whisper. You imitate his movements.

“Perfect,” Tom coos. “Exactly like that. There you go.”

You chuckle at his praise, biting your lip nervously as your heart flutters in your chest. “It’s looking good,” you say, finally able to bring it into an oval shape.

“Looks spectacular,” he praises. “I can’t believe you’re only going to be around for a few more weeks,” he adds, and you can almost hear his pout. “You could be a real asset to the bakery if you stayed, Y/N.”

You chuckle, knowing he’s just being kind but appreciating the efforts nonetheless. “I only live an hour away,” you tell him. You tilt your head to look at him, and Tom finally steps away. He lingers close though, both hands slipping to hold your apron-covered waist as he settles at your side. It’s a loose side-hug, and his palms are warm and distracting. “I’m sure I’ll be back. I, uh… I’d like to visit.”

“Visit the village, or visit me?” Tom asks, almost smirking.

You feel flustered under his stare, and your mouth runs dry, but something about the way his gaze keeps dropping to your lips makes you bolder.

“Maybe a little bit of both,” you admit, voice quiet. Feeling him squeeze your waist, you raise an eyebrow. “You gonna miss me, Tom?”

He hums, very softly. His eyes drift down to your mouth, and you feel him pull you closer. You turn in his arms to face him, letting your hands fall to your sides as he examines you, carefully.

“Yeah,” he admits. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips. “I will.”

It’s like there’s a gravitational pull between you as you slowly start to lean in, Tom doing the same. All the days of building tension suddenly overflow, and your heart pulses in your chest as you feel his lips, soft and gentle, pressing up against yours. It’s very innocent, just a very warm peck, at first, and it leaves you close to him, Tom’s cold nose pressing against yours. You push back into him, meeting his mouth again and kissing him with a little more force, smiling into it when Tom returns the enthusiasm.

Your hands move up to his shoulders and you hold on for dear life, the world spinning as you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. His floury hands are on your waist, staining the apron, but you don’t care, because it feels like your hearts are slotting together, and you wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.

After a while of exchanging soft, nervous kisses, Tom pulls back to look at you, almost bashful. It’s such a contrast to his otherwise confident disposition that you wonder how you’re able to affect him so much.

“That was nice,” he mumbles. Very slowly, Tom drops his head to your shoulder and deposits an innocent kiss to the base of your neck He looks up at you beneath his lashes, questioning in his eyes. “You…”

A timer goes off across the kitchen, and both of you jump.

“Oh fuck.” Tom jumps from you, running around one of the counters and pulling open one of the ovens. “Forgot about the fucking croissants,” he murmurs.

#idk how long this is. few hundred words? :’))#lol #made with love my beloved ... </3 the most haunting of all wips... 10k of village winter romance.....#tom holland x reader #uglypastels

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todourouki · 4 years

Text

Good Girls, Bad Guys | Dabi

a one shot

SUMMARY: The one where no one can understand why you’re so interested in Dabi, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. Maybe it was how soft he was when no one else was around, or how gentle his touch was against your skin, or maybe even how clumsy he is on purpose just to see you— whatever it was, you couldn’t get enough of the scarred man.

PAIRING: Villain!Dabi & Sweetheart!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Dabi purposely acts careless during missions so u can tend to his wounds because he’s an attention whore, Smut [18+]

Dabi was a complete mess.

He was a mess made of old silver staples, burnt purple skin adorning his lean and tall build, the same routined outfit that never seemed to alternate, unruly raven hair always managing to stay as distressed as the day before, and silky yet lewd words that slipped off his sinning lips as if it were his maiden tongue.

The only difference with his usual mess of an appearance today as he stood with arms crossed against his chest would be the large rip peaking through his black coat. Your eyes widened, rushing him into your living room and shutting the door behind him.

Your apartment was one that Dabi never seemed to get tired of. He had only really been in the living room, yet the cozy space always brought an odd sense of familiarity into his soul he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He wasn’t sure if it was the plush and soft couches, pillows thrown against each cushion making it look just as soft and comfortable as they really were, or maybe it was the picture frames hanging around every wall with a candle on an invisible shelf not too far from the glass.

Either way, the steps he took in his plain black socks on to the carpet under the couches and coffee table brought him into a weird headspace one could only describe as happiness. It really did scare the shit out of him.

With a simple few set of steps, he swung his body down onto the cushions he always found himself sinking into at weird hours of the night like today. The only difference from the current night to others would be that it was an earlier hour, currently being only two in the morning as soft rain pattered against the windows adorning your cozy living area.

“Dabi..” Your soft words whispered into the silence of the room, hands gently hovering over the large cut in concern as you watched him throw you a rather forced smirk.

“Nothing worse than what I already got. Just patch me up like new, princess.” His words didn’t get the usual blush from your cheeks he always searched for after his usual flirtatious remarks filled the room.

All he was gifted with would be a look of sadness covering your usually content face. Without a word, you stood up and walked away towards what he assumed was your bathroom. All the man could do was furrow his eyebrows, the confused face remaining when you walked back into the couch and knelt down on the floor next to him.

“What’s wrong with you?” He bluntly asked, a once drawn eyebrow raising as you brushed the sleeve of his t-shirt off and eyed the dried up cut.

You continued to remain silent, only sighing as the alcohol pad in your hand made its way over to the open skin. Before the stinging sensation could reach his skin though, the opposing hand gripped onto your wrist and tugged it further away and just enough to make your eyes finally meet his.

The silence surrounded the room, Dabi staring at you in order to get you to speak. You were conflicted, of course you loved patching the man up almost every night and hearing about his wild adventures in words that made your eyes twinkle with excitement. Yet you were becoming exhausted of seeing him with a brand new scar eventually worse from the one than before.

“I just..” Your soft voice began, Dabi’s posture becoming subtly more relaxed the minute his favorite sound filled the room. “I get tired of seeing you get hurt all the time, you know?”

Your words made him smirk, the same infamous one he couldn’t seem to keep off his burnt lips. In one swift movement, he released your arm and pushed it back towards the large gapping wound that made your stomach turn.

“You worrying about me?” He questioned, the hand that once gripped your wrist now resting against your cheek as he stared at you mockingly.

It was hard to not get flustered around Dabi. He had such a way with words and always knew just how to get your ears to turn a hue of red you didn’t even know they were capable of becoming. You felt the heat flush to your cheeks and hoped the flattery you felt wasn’t too visible. Your face turned back to the large cut on his arm, ignoring his remark all together.

The minute the liquid reached his arm, a soft hiss you were used to slipped off his lips. You only weakened the grip on the cut, your bottom lip being tugged between your teeth in concentration.

“I have to get rid of the bacteria before I use my healing quirk— I’m sorry.” Your apology rang on deaf ears, and Dabi chose to ignore it in order to save your heart from thinking you hurt him.

He only nodded and placed his hand away from your cheek to behind his head in order to give his eye level some more precision on your face. You had a concentrated knit between your eyebrows, and he almost got worried you were forgetting to blink. This was an expression he was much too used to, yet every time he saw it gave him the same feelings he could never explain.

The silence in the room pained you both, the level of words usually slipping out of either of your lips being brought to an awkward zero. It was really uncomfortable, and you couldn’t deal with it anymore as you tossed the now bloodied up tissue somewhere on the ground.

Your hands replaced the tissue, a light reflecting across his arm and making a hiss leave his lips once again. You knew that the feeling of your healing quirk made him feel uncomfortable and he never really grew used to it yet. It shocked you though, because you’d think after being in this exact predicament probably over 100 times, he’d grown used to the prickling feeling.

“Where was this one from?” Your voice was still soft, trying to ease his mind off the pain in a way you knew was best for him.

Dabi loved the way you cared for him. The first time he met you was at the League of Villains hideout in a trashy old building he really hated. You walked in through that warp guy’s portal and the minute he saw you was the minute he believed in angels. It was like time stopped, and he really wasn’t a fan of finding people so attractive yet there you were.

You were announced to be the healer for the league. Shigaraki found you abandoned in some building destroyed in a fire you couldn’t remember, and finding refugee in the odd man was your only option to survival at that point. With that, you were granted as the only person with a full-blown apartment in the building in order to be available for their every need, and were granted immunity from being on actual missions.

That was good enough for you, though. You weren’t a violent person, and knowing most of their targets were children didn’t sit right with you. Despise that, you didn’t have the heart to quit and instead decided to spend the remainder of your days with the dysfunctional League. You had never felt genuinely needed the way the League needed you, and in some weird Stockholm syndrome way, you couldn’t shake the comfort you got from knowing they had to have you around to genuinely survive.

“If I tell you, you’d only worry more.” He smiled over at you, a rare sight blessing your wondering eyes and making you blush once more.

Dabi wasn’t a liar— that’s something that was well known amongst everyone in the league and even amongst you. So when he thought about what happened today, why he was sitting on your couch, and how he planned on hiding the truth from you, he had to mentally lecture himself for stretching the truth.

The real reason Dabi was getting patched up underneath your touch was because he chose to be.

He would never tell you, but the large and deathly gash on his arm was at first only a slight cut where a staple had fallen out. He chose to ignore it in the beginning and decided to check in with you about it after the weekend passed. Yet the minute he realized that meant he’d have to go several days without feeling your touch and hearing your voice made him change his mind completely.

With that, a tissue was wrapped into a ball and sitting in his lips and Dabi ended up watching himself remove a few staples from his arm and tug at the skin in a way that made him shiver. I literally tore myself open to see her, who the fuck does that?

Your hand had finished doing its job. Dabi could tell by the way the prickling ended, and he found his body getting pushed upwards and being replaced by the comfort of your chest against his back.

You positioned the both of you to where his body was leaning against your legs and chest in a way to make his arm in perfect reach for you. The stapler in your hand warned Dabi of what was to come, and he simply sat back against the comfort of your body heat with closed eyes.

“People that worry are people that care.” You whispered, the sound of the stapler pressing into his arm being the only other sound. Dabi’s face remained stoic as he drank in your words and let a loopy grin cover his bored expression.

“Are you saying that you care about me?” Dabi continued to tease, bright blue eyes now opening and staring into yours with flames threatening to shoot through his pupils.

You scoffed, finishing the last staple and replacing the metal object down with a bottle he recognized as the ointment you always forced him to wear after using his quirk. The cool of the cream made him sigh in content. The contrast of his burning skin to a cold burn-relieving cream brought pleasure into his body.

“I care about all of you— that’s why I do th-” “No, Y/N.” He interrupted, making you clam your mouth shut and listen to his words nervously. “I asked if you cared about me.”

You finished lathering the ointment on his skin, gently propping his body up against the backrest of the couch. He only slightly grimaced and tossed the bad arm on a side that didn’t interfere with his position. Your legs were now crossed underneath you.

“Of course I care about you, Dabi.” Your voice made a groan threaten to fall off his lips. There was nothing Dabi loved more than your voice, especially when you said his name. Whenever you spoke, he knew every one and everything didn’t matter if it wasn’t you and your vocal cords.

Dabi rolled his head to the side to make you face him. Even with a bad arm, he was able to now pick it up and peel his jacket off his body lazily.

“How much do you care about me?” The smirk playing weakly on his lips made you shiver, and just watching his expression brought butterflies to your stomach.

“A lot, that’s why I’m always ready to patch you up..” You mumbled, nervously looking down at your fingers and playing with the ring on your right index finger.

It wasn’t that you were shy— but the way Dabi’s eyes always followed yours brought a certain attraction you couldn’t stuff away. It was almost scary how much he made you squirm, even under something as simple as a gaze.

Sure, Dabi flirted with everyone. It didn’t take a genius to see that he flirted with you in a different way, though. His eyes always lingered longer on your frame when you entered the room, he spoke more words to you than he’s probably ever said in his life, and he always kept his endearing pet-names for you and only you.

“You wanna know something, doll?” He asked lowly, his face staring into yours intensely as you finally lifted your eyes to meet his and nodded your head.

Regardless of his appearance, regardless of his attitude, and regardless of the fact it’s Dabi, you knew that you were a goner from the start. You had a ridiculously annoying crush on him, and we’re pretty sure he could coerce you into doing just about anything. He probably knew that, too.

“I think I care about you more than anyone else here.” His words stitched onto your skin, the quietness seeming as if he feared anyone else would hear his words.

“You’re too good and innocent for this world.” He continued, a patchy hand stretching its way over towards your face and slowly rubbing at your cheeks.

You stood quiet, fearing that he’d stop his words all together and you wouldn’t be able to here the sincere tone he rarely spoke in. The only sound in the room one was able to hear was the pattering of water running down the window and your lit candles cracking amongst themselves. Your head leaned into his hand and let the warmth of his palm silk you in.

“That’s a problem though, baby.” Baby.. Your eyes widened at the new name, eyebrows furrowing and glancing over at him with a tilted head.

“What problem is there about that, Dabi?”

He chuckled, gliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of hair as soft as possible. He tugged your head closer towards his daringly. You breath began to shallow and you felt it, the excitement that always came with Dabi whenever he was around.

“You might be a bit too good for me.” He spoke as if he was trying not to scare you away. The timidness of words only brought you closer to him, finally feeling your chest collide with his arm as you were pressed against his side with your face dangerously close to his.

His blue eyes refused to leave yours, and the intensity of the situation made you nearly melt inside. It’s been a while since anyone ever said something like that to you, let alone a guy. A feeling jumpstarted your butterflies, and you ran your tongue against your bottom lip to hide the now dry sensation of your lips.

“I’m not too good for you, please don’t say that Dabi.” The way his name rolled off your tongue made him groan and grip your hair a little tighter.

You’d be lying if it didn’t feel good.

Your face was close enough to feel the heat run off his cheeks, and you knew that you wanted nothing more than to just collide your lips with his. The sexual tension he oozed was something you couldn’t handle, no matter how hard you clenched your thighs.

“You sure about that, princess?” You heard the dare in his voice and felt nothing but exhilaration run through your veins as if you were speeding down a highway on the opposite side of the road.

You weren’t sure when his hands reached your shorts-covered bottom, but you soon found yourself mumbling in surprise when your body was tossed (with literally one arm) across his figure in a straddling position. Your chest arched into his by the pressure he had on your ass, and a gulp slipped through your lips in embarrassment.

You refused to back down, though.

“I’m really sure, Dabi.”

You knew the effect you had on him when you mentioned his name, and he knew by the way he smirked up at you. His other arm was still limp on his side, but that didn’t stop his dominant and good arm from groping every inch of your lower half. You were trying your hardest to cover a moan, yet the minute he gripped a piece of your thigh close enough between the other, you couldn’t help but slam your lips against his.

Dabi tasted like what you would expect him to taste like. The saliva that trailed from his throat down yours had the taste of metal and mint chewing gum. The taste became something you grew familiar to within seconds of smacking your lips against his, and by the way his body gripped you closer to his, you could tell he enjoyed your taste just as well.

Dabi’s mind went empty at the way your tongue moved against his. He couldn’t believe that his pretty little girl could kiss him like this, letting out secret moans into his lips in a way that made sinning sound like a good idea. He also couldn’t believe how fast he got hard, the bulge pressing against his jeans in a way he just couldn’t work with.

You felt it, and your body began to nervously rock back and forth in a way to secretly relieve yourself. Before you started to press your body down harder, Dabi’s free hand slipped up to your hair again and pulled your head back with a tinge of softness. He was out of breath and flustered, and you were sure you looked just as distraught as him.

“Listen,” he panted, his hand letting go slightly of the grip and groaning at the way your lips swelled up in a coat of his own saliva, “if you start something, I won’t able to not finish it. I also won’t go slow.”

The words activated a switch in your head, eyes widening as you stood up from his lap. Before he could question your actions or even grow a bit disappointed at the idea of you not wanting to continue, his eyes nearly jolted out of his skull. Before him stood you, clad in a pair of plain white panties and your shorts thrown on the ground from where you had dropped them. If Dabi wasn’t already obsessed before, he knew he was nothing but smitten now.

You stood quiet and he followed suit as you took your place back into his lap. Without glancing at him, you fiddled with his belt and loosened the grip around his hips.

Dabi really wanted to stop you. He really fucking did. Yet watching you focus on nothing but trying to take his clothes off made him unable to move and speak. It was like he was brainwashed, and he nearly died the minute you sat up to push his pants down.

“I-I-Y/—” “Shh.”

Your fingers covered his mouth as you continued to stare down at his pants in focus. You knew he was trying to stop you, but you wanted to continue. You knew you wanted him to know that you were just as fond of him as he made it seem he was for you.

After struggling to shimmy his pants off his lanky legs with one arm since you were still trying to shut up him, you watched his body lie limp across your couch in nothing but a shirt and black briefs.

It was like heaven in front of your eyes.

You licked your lips, shyly taking a seat on top of him and removing your hand. Your fingers made their way over to his chest. You wanted to take his shirt off and feel the skin to skin contact, but you knew how Dabi was about that stuff. He’d never say it, but you knew he was insecure of the uneven portions of skin there.

He tilted your head up with a finger and brought your wide eyes to his. “What do you want to do, doll? It’s whatever you want.”

The words brought goosebumps up your spine. The way he said it just made you weak, each word slipping off his lips like the air you needed to breathe and you soon found yourself whimpering at the sentence you knew he set up for this exact reaction. You could tell by how smugly he watched you writhe under his words.

You thought about your next sentence carefully. His arm was injured, and you weren’t sure if he was as into this as you were. Sure, making out and dry-humping was cool for a while— but would he be okay with jumping straight into sex? Sure, most people go through an extensive amount of foreplay in order to get the mood going, but you didn’t really want to. His arm was hurt, and all you wanted to do was watch him squirm under you as you made him feel good.

“I want to ride you.” The sudden confidence of your voice made him stammer, eyes watching you as they twitched in excitement. He had never realized how much he’d wanted those words to slip off your pretty lips but he was beyond estatic to hear them he meant for him and only him.

He didn’t respond, only pressing you into his lips with the hand gripping your hair and taking your mouth by surprise. Your tongues moved in sync, and you could feel yourself only growing wetter and wetter from just the way he pounded his lips into yours.

Before you could stop yourself, you moved your fingers to the waistband of his briefs and pushed them back just enough to hear something heavy smack against his stomach. Yes, something heavy.

He gripped your hair again and this time with much more intensity, broke your lips apart and pushed your head away from his. From the quick glance you gave him, you could see his nearly throbbing dick rest against his lean stomach in a way that nearly teased you. His lips were wet and his eyes were clouded with desire.

“I want to watch your face when you sit down on my dick, Y/N.”

The assertiveness made you nod your head obediently. Instantly following his commands, you rested your body onto your knees and pushed your panties to the side. A soft hand gripped his dick, and the way he sucked his breath in at the contact made you smile smugly.

He didn’t realize though, since his eyes were now trained on your dripping heat inch closer towards his dick. He counted in his head, preparing himself to sink into the place he wanted to get into the most.

5. Your hands slowly swirled up and down his dick, pumping gently enough to prepare his body to take you up yet to also evoke a moan from his lips. And Dabi doesn’t moan.

4. Your eyes never left his the minute you had a good enough grip on him, and just that alone made some precum slip through his tip.

3. He thought you looked so pretty getting ready to sit down on his cock. ‘Imagine when she’s actually riding me, fuck.’

2. To prep yourself up a bit more, you lathered you’re wetness with a swipe of your thumb against his tip, the sensation making him suck in an incoherent curse.

1. This was your moment. Usually Dabi wanted to take control, and usually in his fantasies about you, it was you getting drilled into your own bed in a way that had you forgetting how to scream. This was different though. Dabi wanted to see what you were going to do.

Before he could even continue his thoughts, the feeling of a soft, extremely wet, and tight hole covered his penis agonizingly slow. With squinted eyes in pleasure, he watched as your face moved from that smug smile to a look of focus and surprise. Within just the first few inches, you already felt as if your insides were more full than possible.

Growing impatient yourself was something you knew would be a bad idea, but you couldn’t help it. So with that, you let go of all strain in your knees and in your hands and let your body drop fully into his embrace. Just like that, you imagined he was probably in your damn gut at this point.

“You’re so big.” You gasped, the vulgar words coming out of your lips making Dabi groan even more than he already was at the sudden contact.

You took a few more minutes to take him in as your vagina just refused to take all of him in. For a skinny guy like him, the weight he carried down there definitely made up for it and you weren’t complaining.

Before you knew it, you felt the need to continue. With that, you dragged your hands up to Dabi’s face and gripped the sides in yours. His lips met your lips, and you began to grind your body against his in order to control your pace for the time being.

You had to rip your lips off his as your slowly found yourself bouncing against him. The movements were so sudden, Dabi didn’t expect it and found his eyes slamming shut in pleasure as his free-hand gripped your ass cheek roughly.

“Fuck Y/N.” He moaned, making you feel only more determined than before.

His praises (which really only consisted of moans, groans, and the word fuck) egged you on, and before you knew it, you were bouncing your body up and down with such speed and intensity, Dabi couldn’t even say a word.

You were fucking him so good, he couldn’t even speak.

Dabi wasn’t sure if it was the way you slipped your body all the way up to his tip only to slam back down, or if it was the quick and loud moans that left your lips so richly, or if it was the trail of wetness coming down from your lower heaven pooling into his light pubic hairs. Whatever it was though, was causing him to see stars.

As thunder cracked in the background, all you could focus on was the sounds of your thighs and body slapping into Dabi’s in a perfect motion.

“D-Dabi—” you moaned loudly, the words falling off your lips quicker than you could handle, “I-You-You feel so— so fucking good.”

The word good dragged out longer than you liked, your screams being reduced to whimpers due to not wanting anyone else to hear you. Dabi watched you, groans coming out of his lips matching yours in a way that made you grow in intensity.

Your hips moved harder and faster, finally finding your own G-Spot and beginning to see stars in your trail of sight.

“You look- look so fucking pretty— taking my cock like this— baby.” The name only made you yelp, whimpering as your eyebrows furrowed and began to thrash your ass tight vagina in a quick notion of in, out, grind, out, grind, in, and over and over again.

There were many things you did to impress Dabi. Honestly, the way you breathe was something Dabi wanted to praise you with in itself. This, however, was beyond him.

Watching you throw yourself against his dick, eyes crossing and drool slipping across your still swollen lips, ass that he was gripping onto as if it would leave forever clapping against his skin, whimpers and cries coming out of your throat was something that Dabi now believed he wanted to be the only thing he ever saw again.

“Just like that doll, I want to see you cum-see you cum all over me.” He managed to get out, face scrunching as he felt his tip slam into a certain part of your pussy that damn near sent vibrations down his long length. He had never felt pussy this good before, and maybe it was just because he was attracted to you, but whatever it was— was driving him absolutely insane.

You felt your stomach tighten, a trail of curses coming out of both you and Dabi’s mouths in synch. You continued to bounce against him. Somehow, the position you were in where you were now on your feet only allowed you to ride him harder and faster than before. Dabi nearly passed the fuck out.

You, on the other hand, were definitely already gone. Watching his face scrunch up, staples clattering as his hair began to stick to his forehead and his lips rip your name and curses like they were the only words he knew— you couldn’t handle it. With that, the pressure in your stomach grew.

“Do-don’t worry about me baby—” he could feel your hole beginning to tighten up more and more, the sensation feeling as if you were milking his cock from the inside and dragging his cum up involuntarily.

“B-but I wanna cum with you.” You whined out, head thrown back in nothing but pure ecstasy.

He could see your tits bounce harshly against your shirt, yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to burn the stupid material off. For a flashing moment in time, he thought about how your eyes trailed against his covered chest.

“I know b-baby.” You said, snapping him from his stare at your chest and up to your now clearly red face. “I-I ke-kept it on so that we-we both have our shirts on.”

That itself, nearly brought Dabi over the fucking edge. The simple fact that you were so fucking considerate, enough to do some little shit like that drove him insane.

Without blinking, the limp hand once thrown on the couch was now gripping onto your body. You couldn’t say anything though, because his other hand gripped the couch and brought him to an angle to where he began to obliterate you.

With nothing but a gasp being able to come out of your locked jaw, your eyes rolled back at the way his drilled in and out of you in a nearly barbaric manner. His arm gripped around your waist in order to bring himself to more pleasure, and you found yourself bouncing up and down in order to counter him and bring more force into the slams.

“Holy fucking shit.” He yelled, his jaw tightening as he began to whimper.

You were fucking him back, your hands tugging at his raven hair roughly and your lips drooling at the sensation in a way that made you seem to be out of your headspace. Just like that, your stomach tightened up and warned you that you had about a second to let him know you were going to literally cream yourself.

You heard his staples more than usual, yet ignored the small noises in order to focus on the grip pressed against your body.

“Dabi I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” You repeated, your voice hoarse and whined out from the way he fucked your brain into overdrive.

All that could be heard were your pleas of pleasure, Dabi’s hips slamming into your hips that slammed into his, the wet sounds of your pussy continuously being filled up to the brim by Dabi, and the couch beginning to squeak at the roughness.

Without catching a breath, Dabi’s hand roughly scratched its way up to your hair and tugged you to face him.

“Cum now.”

The order made your eyes roll back. You weren’t sure just how close you were, but just him commanding you to do it made you finally fall over the edge. The feeling of his dick shooting into you made you topple over onto his chest, cries leaving your lips as you orgasmed harder than you probably ever have before.

The sight you once had disappeared as you saw nothing but stars and darkness. The air once resting in your lungs cleared out, and nothing was able to leave your throat other than Dabi’s name over and over again as if it were your religion.

Dabi followed suit, finally resting underneath you and gasping for air from the orgasm he just came down from. His cock stood in you, still warm and twitching from the stimulation still being given from your tightness.

Nobody said anything, voices too tired, bodies too sticky and stuck together, and minds too empty to even be able to form a sentence. Your legs had given up on you, finally wrapped behind Dabi’s back as you clung onto him for your dear life.

“Baby.” Dabi called out softly, his raspy voice making you snap out of your fucked out trance. You looked at him, eyes barely being able to hold themselves open as your body wobbled against his.

“Let me clean you up, okay?” He softly asked, his hand gently pushing some hair still stuck to your cheeks behind your ears. You bit your lip and defiantly shook your head.

“Can we clean up tomorrow?” You asked shyly, hands rubbing up and down his chest as your voice pleaded for him to listen. “I just want to sleep with you for the rest of the night.”

The minute you looked at him with those wishful eyes and small pout, he found it really fucking hard to say no. He wasn’t really planning on staying, but now he wasn’t sure if he was ready to even think about leaving.

Agreeing with your plea to stay, he twisted his body enough to where he was finally lying down on the couch from one end to the other. He dragged your body with him, adjusting you to where your legs were tangled up and your head taking comfort on his shirt-clad chest.

With the way he just fucked your lights out, and the way he softly spoke to you and rubbed your back, you found it even harder to keep your eyes open. It was no surprise when Dabi somehow managed to turn the singular lamp on that was on the table next to him off only to find you slightly snoring on his chest.

So many times, he warned himself that when the day he got to go inside of your wet, sweet heaven came, he’d stay up and take advantage of being able to look at your fucked out expression some more.

But due to how good you rode his dick, how good you kissed him, and how good you felt weaves into his body, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and fall into the same slumber as you with his hands tightly wrapped around your frame and a small smile playing at his lips.

—

cue the song overdue by travis scott because this took me like a week to write for some reason 🥴 writers block aint no mf JOKE! Anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed! I did get an anon ask somewhat similar to it though so that kinda got me to finish. So anon, whoever you were that sent that one Dabi anon in about reader being a healer and such, thanks for saving the day 😔👍🏾 anyways YEA please don’t let this flop idk why y’all don’t like Dabi </3 smh no substance! Also this is hella unedited and guess what? Idc. If you see a typo though, please lmk.

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow me if u a real one

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samstree · 3 years

Text

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (3/4)

It dawns on Jaskier that in the span of only a few days, his and Geralt’s roles have reversed.

(3.2k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication)

The reverse trope series masterlist.

AO3

Jaskier is perched on the edge of the bed, exactly where he woke up an eternity ago. The barmaid is filling the bathtub with one bucket of water after another, but he pays no attention.

He fidges with the splints on his arms, careful not to tug on the tendons. With how swollen his wrists are, that seems like an impossible feat.

“You alright by yourself?” the girl asks, pouring the last of the water.

“Yes.”

Jaskier lets the word out without a fight. It wouldn’t do much good anyway. The barmaid is gone within a second, and Jaskier sits alone in the inn room with both arms immobilized and a hot bath waiting.

Untying the laces is painful. Jaskier ends up with a head full of sweat by the time his doublet hits the ground, and the intricate bindings on his chemise give him an even bigger headache. His arms tremble like they are getting more broken by the minute.

It takes forever for Jaskier to strip himself nude and notice the bloodstains all the way down his neck. The wound at his nape is sewed close neatly, barely stinging by now, but with one look of himself in the mirror, Jaskier knows he’s a mess. The dried blood, added by the dark circles under his eyes, makes quite a harrowing picture.

He sinks into the hot water and rests his arms by the edge, the warmth loosening his muscles and clearing the smell of blood. Gradually, he lowers himself under the surface and feels his lungs burn.

Drowning himself would be a nice idea, if only he isn’t sticking out his forearms just so the splints don’t get soaked. Also, Geralt will blame himself even more, so there goes the thought.

Jaskier emerges and shakes away the droplets like a wet dog. He can’t get soap into his hair anyway. Sitting there in self-pity and regret is his only option.

And what right does Jaskier have to feel sorry for himself? Geralt is the one hurt by the poison he spewed, curse or not, and yet he still sewed up Jaskier’s neck and bandaged his wrists. He even ordered a bath for Jaskier when he left, for good this time, Jaskier is sure. There’s no reason for Geralt to stay after all, now that he believes Jaskier is ready to turn on him at every chance just like everybody else.

In the end, it doesn’t matter that a fae in the woods made him say it. Geralt will never be his friend again, let alone anything Jaskier has only allowed his heart to entertain in the wildest dreams.

That’s why he sucks in a surprised breath when a knock comes from the door. Jaskier bites into his lips, just to be safe.

“It’s me.” Geralt’s voice is small, tentative. “Do you need help?” After a stretch of silence, he pushes open the door slowly. “I only want to check on you—Gods, Jaskier, are you in pain?”

Is he? Perhaps soaking his wound in hot water and clutching at the tub with his broken hands isn’t that wise.

“I…” The chair screeches against the floor and Geralt settles next to Jaskier. “I know you don’t want to see me, but you can’t treat your injuries so carelessly. Here.”

Geralt picks up a bar of soap and dips it into water. The next thing Jaskier knows, gentle hands are threaded through his hair and massaging his scalp.

“I’ll just clean it and bandage it. It won’t take long.”

Jaskier looks into the unbearable sadness in those amber eyes, and hates that he’s doing this to Geralt.

“I hate that I’m doing this to you, Jaskier. I—” Geralt sighs. “I wish I could go back and leave you alone after the mountain. I’d make sure we never meet in that damned tavern in Posada if it means you won’t get hurt. Seeing you like this, I—”

Jaskier catches Geralt’s gaze, pleading and seeking, and feels the witcher still under his attention. No, he doesn’t deserve any comfort, not when he’s the one completely at blame. It’s bad enough that Geralt believed all those awful things, and Jaskier won’t ask for more.

“Jaskier?”

He looks down again and lets Geralt go back to his ministrations.

Geralt sighs with relief, and Jaskier swallows the lump in his throat.

Gods, he wants to explain, wants more than anything to erase the hurt he inflicted—if that is still possible. Letting Geralt believe those things is so fundamentally wrong. But how will Jaskier explain? With his voice gone and wrists ruined, there’s no real way of communication, and the thought of more awful things slipping out by accident is enough for Jaskier to wish for death by drowning again.

He let twenty years pass without ever admitting his love, and now he’s lost the chance.

The water trickles down Jaskier’s temple when Geralt rinses out the soap. His movement is achingly gentle, rough calluses ghosting over Jaskier’s skin only by accident. If only tenderness can kill. Tears well up again, and he’s losing control.

“Does it still hurt?” Geralt asks while retrieving a towel.

“No.”

The first preferable lie of the day.

Slowly, Jaskier turns around to let Geralt dry the curls near his forehead, his jaw clenching tight again. There’s a crease between Geralt’s brows, his amber eyes unconvinced. A large sheet is wrapped around Jaskier’s frame when he steps out of the tub.

Jaskier hisses when he tries to catch the hem of the sheet, and Geralt stills. “Let me see your wrists.”

Jaskier stares into amber eyes, silently hoping that without an answer, Geralt will leave him to his misery. He can’t afford another slip. And yet, determination creeps into Geralt’s features, and there’s no point in fighting anymore. A determined Geralt is not someone Jaskier can refuse.

“I’ll be quick,” Geralt pauses. “Please?”

It’s unfair how kind Geralt is being.

Jaskier’s shoulders sag when he pads across the room to sit on the bed, arms gathering the sheet into a heap near his midriff. He should maintain at least a shred of dignity.

Geralt sits down next to him, shoulders weighed down, looking just as tired as Jaskier feels. Still, when he unwraps Jaskier’s wrists, his motion is the most precise thing, touching just enough for practical purposes, not sparing even a brush of knuckles.

Even the slightest probing sends a sharp bolt of pain up Jaskier's arms, but it’s nothing compared to the torture of being so close to Geralt, dreading his fate—being left alone once again. This time, it’ll be permanent and he’ll deserve it.

Jaskier holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable blow that is Geralt declaring he’ll leave on first light. For reasons beyond this world, it doesn’t come. Instead, Geralt lets out a strangled sound.

Jaskier frowns. His wrists are painted with a plethora of black and purple bruises, the edges fading into green and yellow, which is just to be expected.

“You’ll never play again,” Geralt whispers. “If we don’t do anything about it.”

Does it matter? He has long since forgotten how to sing without Geralt in his songs.

“I—” Geralt wraps the gauze around the splints, one by one, tucking in the end. “I asked around just now. Word says a mage is only a day’s ride away. No one at the market was sure, but I am. Yen is only a day away. We can make it tomorrow.”

At the mention of the sorceress’s name, the press of teeth against his tongue is the last of Jaskier’s worry, and he retracts his arms instantly. Under the thin sheet, Jaskier shivers.

“Jaskier, I can’t leave you like this. You need your music when I—” Geralt shakes his head, the pursed line of his lips impossibly sad. “—When you go. Yennefer can fix it. I know you can’t stand me, but at least grant me the peace of mind. Let me know you will be all right, after.”

The dim room turns hazy in the candlelight, and Jaskeir can only curl into himself to stem the tears. He sits there for too long, not sure if he nodded. Wrapping the wound on his head doesn’t take long, and then Geralt is gone without a word.

Jaskier hugs himself tighter, and sobs into the quiet night, the aches of his body finally tiring him out.

Strapping the lute case to Roach’s saddle is a task Geralt has done hundreds of times, and yet he fidgets with the contraption in the morning, adjusting it so many times, pulling at the knot again and again.

It’s almost like he wants to stretch their journey longer.

But then, one look at Jaskier’s splinted arms and bandaged head, he smoothes a hand down Roach’s mane and deemed her ready to go.

Riding on the mare while the witcher walks ahead of them is not the most novel experience for Jaskier. Despite Geralt’s overprotectiveness of his mare, he’s always let Jaskier ride if he was truly distressed—or simply complained loudly enough.

There’s no complaining during their one-day journey, even Roach is behaving like the good girl she is. Jaskier gladly endures her glares as long as she doesn’t throw him off her back. Perhaps she senses that will certainly kill him.

The small village looms by the end of the road, right next to the setting sun, and Jaskier’s knees almost buckle under him as he dismounts. He catches the saddle by instinct and chokes in a grunt. There’s fresh blood between his teeth. Geralt’s hands steady Jaskier by the elbows as he breathes through the pain, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Walking into Yennefer’s cottage like this is the last thing Jaskier wants, but what choice does he have? She has long since figured out how pathetic he is. A mere human plastered himself to a witcher’s side, never once considering the possibility that he’s unwanted. A mock or two from Yennefer of Vengerburg aren’t anything new.

To Jaskier’s surprise, when violet eyes meet him, there’s no mockery.

Yennefer stands from a workstation full of vials and bottles. Without sparing a glance at Geralt, she walks right past the witcher.

“Oh, bardling,” she says, “what have you gotten yourself into?”

It takes a brave man to not cower under her knowing gaze, and Jaskier is far from one. He wishes to hide in the setting sun and the darkening room, his feet quiet on the wooden floor and lips sealed. Without a voice, Jaskier is left with no presence anyway.

Pulling Yennefer away, Geralt must be explaining the situation. Once in a while, they will both turn their heads at Jaskier with a pinched look, an almost identical one. Paying attention to the conversation becomes difficult as exhaustion hits Jaskier at full force. The blood loss from the makes him dizzy after traveling on horse, his bones aching from all the jostling. Jaskier sinks into a soft armchair and lets low grumbling witcher baritone and Yennefer’s silvery voice wash over him. The sorceress could make a singer in another life, he muses. A great one, even. Not that he’ll ever admit it to her face, but a bard should recognize talent anywhere.

When Jaskeir is shaken awake by the shoulder, the sky is pitch dark and the tiny cottage is lit by a single candle. It gives out way more light than it should, illuminating everything in sight. Witchcraft will never stop giving Jaskier the creeps.

Geralt is nowhere to be found, and Yennefer looks down at him in pity.

“Come on.” She sounds even gentle; perhaps Jaskier is dying from these broken bones, he muses inwardly. “Do you want it fixed or not?”

Jaskier sits up against soft cushions while Yennefer gathers her herbs and medicine. A cup is shoved before his face and he barely manages to catch it with his hands heavily wrapped, and the content is the most disgusting thing he’s ever tasted.

Shuddering, Jaskier lets loose of his lips just for the momentary satisfaction of revenge. “You are vile, witch.”

Yennefer’s hands stop mid-air right before grabbing another bottle. Sharply, she turns around to observe Jaskier closely, her expression stone-cold, raven hair falling to frame her face elegantly. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Gods, you are the ugliest person I’ve laid eyes on.” Stopping seems an unlikely task right now. Jaskier feels horror sinking into his very core as the warm light gleams in violet eyes. “Your eyes are the most dreadful, and then there’s your voice. Utterly uninspiring. You’d make the most terrible singer if given the chance.”

Seconds tickle by, and Jaskeir expects to be turned into a toad on the spot. It seems Geralt has miscalculated. Bringing Jaskier here will solve his problem once and for all, because he’ll never play the lute again if the rest of his life will be spent on a lilypad. Jaskier feels heat draining from his cheeks, but for the second time, Yennefer surprises him.

The corners of her mouth turn upwards as she casts a silent spell with her fingers. Eyebrows raised, she asks without heat, “more comments for me?”

With a huff, Jaskeir launches again. “Has the great Yennefer of Vengerburg gone soft? I’d imagine with the amount of broken hearts you left in your wake, you would have remade yours with stone.” There’s a sizzle in the air, like magic appearing and fading at the same time, but Jaskier ignores it. “Now what? Not even one insult for me? After I called you the most beautiful person on—” Jaskier snaps his mouth shut, and feels for his tongue.

He’s free.

“Oh,” he lets out the longest exhale, and immediately, “shit.”

Jaskier watches in horror as a smile spreads across Yennefer’s face, the smugness unmasked in the way her arms crossed before her chest. Oh, the price he’d pay just for the ground to swallow him whole right now.

“The most what?”

Jaskier stares at the empty cup in his lap, and then back up at Yennefer.

“You—” he splutters. “Of course.”

“The fae curses come in all shapes and forms. This one was particularly whimsical.” Yennefer leans against her workstation, putting down two corked vials on the table. “Your wrists are bad, but not unsalvageable. Drink these in seven days and they’ll be fine.”

“I thought you could do magic.”

“You might have time to nurse a broken heart, but the rest of us don’t have the luxury. There’s a war. It costs magic.”

Yennefer turns away, and Jaskier looks at her—really looks at her for the first time since stepping into this town. There’s a weariness in the way she carries herself and the self-soothing gesture of pressing her palm on her stomach from time to time. Her make-up is immaculate as ever, but the droop of her lashes speaks of a haunting experience.

“Are you okay?” Jaskier clears his throat, legs tense and ready to go to her, but thinks better of it.

Violet eyes meet him sharply. “And you’re calling me soft?”

Jaskier huffs, almost offended. “You just lifted a fae curse for me out of the goodness of your will. I’d say that’s a reasonable accusation. I … I realize I haven’t said it. Thank you, Yennefer. It was kind of you. Despite what I may have said a few years ago in a drunken fit, I’d hate it if the war claimed you too.”

Remembering that night has Jaskier cringing, but Yennefer only lets out a dry laugh. After all, she did get him back on a few hours later, by tripping him on stage with the wave of a hand. Geralt was never amused by their petty squabbles.

“You are never what I expect you to be, Jaskier.”

“Did you think me incapable of a little gratitude?”

“I thought you incapable of many things.”

“Such as?”

Yennefer straightens her back, the soft curve of her lips fading. “Such as hurting Geralt.”

Shame washes over Jaskeir anew, and he winces. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Jaskier has always been aware that the mountain was not just an ending to his world, but one for the fated romance between Geralt and Yennefer as well. And yet, no matter how angry at the djinn wish, Yennefer still sounds fiercely protective of Geralt.

“I see this is where you turn me into a toad.”

Yennefer taps the vials absently, eyeing at Jaskier’s broken body. “Somehow I feel like you’re punished enough.”

She says that as if Jaskier’s physical wounds are anything compared to how deeply he must have hurt Geralt. The absence of him takes up all the space between Jaskier’s ribcage, and the grief is almost crushing. He sniffles, his nose sore and throat tight.

“You told him?” Jaskier asks, voice small. He doesn’t know which is worse, Geralt leaving believing those words were genuinely Jaskier’s, or him learning about the curse and then choosing to go. A liar, Geralt once called him with affection. Did he anticipate Jaskier would be lying to him too?

He’d hate either answer from Yennefer, but she doesn’t give one. Instead, her tone gentles, “did he realize?”

Jaskier snaps his head up with a crease between his brows. “What?”

“When you were cursed and bleeding, did he realize those lies weren’t yours?”

Jaskier sags with sorrow.

“You know the answer.”

Yennefer moves around the table and sits behind it, the magic candle obscuring her expression. There could be a hint of regret, but Jaskier doesn’t dare to assume.

“He didn’t recognize the looks of a man with his choices taken.”

Jaskier shakes his head like a rattle. “It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known.”

“Because Geralt was ready to believe your lies from the start,” she sighs. “As if you could ever utter those words. As if someone might want to stay with him simply because they wish to.”

No, his heart was not the only one that broke on top of the mountain.

“Do you think,” Jaskier tries, “if he told you about—”

“It’s too late for us,” she waves him off, readying parchment and a quill. “I don’t bother myself with could-have-beens, and neither should him, but.”

The implication hangs in the air.

Jaskier gets up, observing Yennefer’s long, meaningful look, and chuckles tightly. “You truly have gone soft, witch.”

“Don’t come to me dying again, bardling. A third time, I might just let you.”

“No, you won’t.”

Thanking Yennefer again is easy, so is the jab she returns, but finding Geralt becomes the only thing on Jaskier’s mind, so much so that he’s only doubling back after rushing out the door.

“Almost forgot.” He pockets the potions, albeit clumsily. “And where…?”

“There’s only one way out of town. He left not long ago.” Yennefer has begun writing a letter, not even looking up.

“Perfect.”

“I’m serious about the dying.”

Jaskier suppresses the urge to give her a kiss as they bid a final goodbye, and runs out into the night.

It’s not too late for them.

He just needs to make it right. Apologize, explain… Anything that can convince Geralt that he never meant those words, that he’s never seen Geralt as anything but the truest friend, that he’s loved, completely and unreservedly.

It dawns on Jaskier that in the span of only a few days, his and Geralt’s roles have reversed.

A big thanks to Beginte on AO3 for pointing out the parallel between Jaskier and Geralt. Now they've switched roles and Jaskier is the one who said words he didn't mean and desperately wants to apologize.

Ah, the final chapter, here I come. Although I have no timeframe for my writing these days; school is starting to get busy and I am whelmed by the amount of paperwork involved in moving to a new country. Be patient with me, as I am with the local banking efficiency.

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod @kuripon @holymotherwolf

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #lying spell #reverse tropes #lying potion #hurt jaskier #blood and injury #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerburg #cursed jaskier #angst #(not for long)

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theseshipsshallsail · 3 years

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The sound he makes sends a shiver down Oliver’s spine, heat pooling low in

his belly as he crowds Elio up against the brickwork. He’s so close he could count his freckles in the moonlight, trace the rough patch of stubble on his unshaven chin. It’s a moment suspended in time - a fantasy come to life - and the tightly bunched muscles of Oliver’s forearms are a testament to just how badly it affects him.

Taking that final step he presses him against the wall, a low growl of want rumbling in his chest as he covers his mouth in a searing kiss. Elio gasps, meeting him with equal measure, and Oliver swallows down his smug laughter, reminding himself to breathe. He’s never considered himself the reckless type, but the phantom sighs of Elio’s pleasure ring in his ears as he grinds the evidence of his surrender over his thigh, and the ease with which he dismisses the drudgery wrapping up mere metres away settles in his gut in a manner that’s somewhat alarming.

“You did that on purpose,” he says, nipping at the blush-red lip that’s been tormenting him all throughout dinner.

Where Elio produced the lollipop from he had no idea, but Oliver has been sporting a semi for the better part of an hour as he curled his tongue around the candy, shooting him self-satisfied looks whenever he shifted in his seat.

“Who, me?” Elio asks, and if Oliver didn’t know better, he’d sound like innocence personified.

“Yes, you.” His nostrils flare at the artificial scent of peaches in the air between them. “And in front of your parents, no less.”

“Diabolique.”

“You little libertine.” Releasing Elio’s waist, Oliver circles his naval with a thumb before plucking at the loose waistband of his shorts. “Your mother’s not as blind as you might think,” he warns, and the little shit just shoots him a smirk.

“If only I’d warned you how little I know about the things that really matter.” Elio tips his chin up, chasing another kiss, but Oliver denies him as he moves his fingers downwards, almost, but not quite, touching the thin barrier that keeps him from his prize. “Non è giusto! You tease.”

“Takes one to know one,” Oliver says, dropping to his knees in the shadows of the bushes to skim his nose over the tented material, earning a quickly muffled groan.

He really shouldn’t be doing this, but Elio’s hard for him already, the thin cotton damp with his excitement, and there’s only so much a man can take.

“Toccami, per favore.”

Oliver peers up, and the eyes staring back at him are blown wide. Black as the night that shrouds them. His whole body is singing, every nerve-ending alight. It’s a battle to keep his composure when Elio whimpers, dropping a hand to graze his index finger over Oliver’s bottom lip, and the longing contained within is what finally breaks him.

“Touch you?” Oliver says, swiping his tongue over the digit that plays him with the same precision as any instrument. “I can’t stop touching you, you little siren.”

In the blink of an eye he tugs Elio’s shorts down to his knees, allowing gravity to do the rest as he leans in to nuzzle at the sweat-damp hair of his crotch. The musk of his arousal damn near floors him, and banding an arm around Elio’s waist he draws him nearer, dropping an almost chaste kiss to the beading tip of his erection.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Elio mumbles, grabbing at Oliver’s hair. “Do you hear me complaining?”

“Me? No,” Oliver replies, lapping at the sensitive head. “But someone will hear something if we’re not careful.” Pulling back, he drags his fingernails over the valley between hip bone and groin. “Think you can be quiet?”

Elio’s gaze darts in the direction of the unseen garden table, as if only now remembering where they are. “I don’t know.”

“Try.”

“Lo farò.” Elio nods frantically, then bites the inside of his cheek as Oliver takes him into his mouth. They’ve only tried this a few times, and Oliver has to suppress a sound of his own when Elio bucks forward, hitting the back of his throat. “Scusa! Sorry!”

But Oliver isn’t complaining in the slightest. He thought he knew himself, yet with Elio by his side he’s discovering something revolutionary every day. He experiments, endlessly fascinated by the fullness, the stretch, the way his jaw starts to ache as he concentrates on keeping it wet and tight. He sucks in a lungful of air as he glances up, and Elio’s chest is heaving. He’s close, he can tell, so Oliver braces a palm over his abdomen when he feels him start to buckle.

“Easy,” he whispers, adjusting himself in his slacks, then gently fondles Elio’s balls as he bobs his head once again, taking in more and more with each return.

Oliver wraps his hand around the base, and Elio hums in satisfaction when his lips eventually meet his knuckles. Swirling his tongue, he moves them both in tandem, adding a careful scrape of teeth as his fingers dart behind Elio’s sack, seeking his entrance. He’s still loose from their afternoon siesta, and it’s the work of a moment to slip two inside, a third joining them when Elio twitches against his tongue.

A drumbeat of nervous excitement thunders inside his head, and with a hasty warning Elio seems to swell even further in the split second before Oliver’s taste buds are flooded with flavour. He swallows quickly, keeping his movements steady to prolong Elio’s enjoyment, and it’s only the sound of distant conversation that stops him from crowing in triumph.

“Delicious,” he says, kneeling back with a wink, and Elio blinks down at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

Elio doesn’t bother to explain, just urges him to his feet and hauls him into a determined kiss, chasing the taste of himself from Oliver’s mouth. Helpless, he answers back in kind, grasping a fistful of curls to angle Elio’s head, then grunting in surprise when an ankle hooks behind his knee, jerking him forward. His hardness is cradled at the apex of Elio’s thighs when he reaches down between them, and the sound of his zipper is too loud even over their panting breaths.

“I want you.”

“You have me.”

“Inside,” Elio demands, easing him free of his underwear, and Oliver shudders as he strokes him in one smooth motion.

“We shouldn’t. Not here.”

It’s a token protest at best, but Elio shakes his head in negation. “Yes, here,” he insists, nuzzling into his shoulder. “We’ve already wasted so much time.”

There’s something viciously honest in his tone, and Oliver frowns as the words penetrate the fog of his libido. “Not wasted,” he says, brushing a kiss to Elio’s cheek in reassurance. “We needed that time to figure out what we wanted.”

“I did,” Elio tells him defiantly. “I do.” Brows knit, he hops into the air, and Oliver catches him without thinking. “I know what I want, Americano. The question is, do you?”

“Elio...” He can hear voices further down the path, but even that isn’t enough to deter him as he positions his cock at his spit-slick rim. “Are you sure?” he asks, and when Elio squirms impatiently Oliver can only hope his t-shirt will offer enough protection as he sheathes himself inside him, causing his back to scrape against the wall.

There’s a groan against his throat, gentle suction over his Adam’s apple, and Oliver drops his forehead to Elio’s collarbone as he holds him in place, not thrusting, just rocking deeply.

How can he sound so certain when the future is anything but? Tomorrow is an abstract concept when all they have is here and now, yet here and now Oliver has never been happier, and he can’t bear for it to end. Maybe it’s because he’s beyond the scope of his family’s expectations, but he hasn’t felt this free in years. Yes, the sword of Damocles is poised above their heads, but Elio is in his arms, welcoming him into his body, holding him, kissing him, making his heart dance to a tune of his own, so maybe the reason is irrelevant.

Maybe tomorrow can go fuck itself.

“Oliver, please…”

He can’t get close enough, and the muted whines in Oliver’s ear spur him into action, pistoning in and out as Elio’s flagging erection perks up in interest. He won’t last, but he’s determined to bring Elio off twice, and cradling his ass with one palm he uses the other to jerk him steadily, straddling the thin line between pleasure and overstimulation.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying, but filthy promises spur him onwards, and just as Oliver’s balls contract his fist is coated with Elio’s second release. Wildfire surges through his veins as he pushes in one last time, the rhythmic clenching around his cock causing him to see stars when he sinks to his knees, taking Elio with him.

Plato had the right of it, he decides, clutching him tight enough that not even Zeus could split them apart. Four arms, four legs, a head with dual faces?

They are one.

Two halves of a whole.

He loves him - even if he’s not yet brave enough to speak it - and as Oliver whispers his own name against Elio’s temple he defies the universe itself to even try and separate them again.

#cmbyn #fanfic #elio x oliver #shameless smut

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princecharmingmendes · 3 years

Text

Heart by Heart | Chapter II | Raul Mendes

*secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this is the second chapter of this series, you can find the first one here. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 5.2K+

*Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence/crimes, migraine due to work stress, Raul teasing the reader endlessly (for me, that’s the most important warning). Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: July 8th, 2021.

-*-

A week later things were back to normal.

Sure, the night they came back, after they were checked for any injuries on the med department and were cleared, Raul dragged her back to his apartment claiming he was craving sushi and he was only ordering if she was with him. In reality, that was a way to keeping his head busy with something else so the events of that day would be coped nicely without so much suffering. And one way of doing it was keeping his girl, best friend and partner, at a close distance so he knew she’d be safe and well.

He was extra sweet that night, making sure she had everything she needed, even agreed to put on face masks with her while watching a random movie. And she was really glad to have him near. The thought of him getting her, or worst... it just killed her a bit. But he was safe and he had his arms securely around her, and that was enough to put her on dreamland and having a great night of sleep.

Unfortunately that was not the case for Y/N today.

Ever since Seth was back, he spent most of his time on the med bay to recover, he had to go through surgery and was finally recovering, but ever since he was back, every piece of information he had was being collected, and she was the one responsible to write it down. Most of the info he had was encoded and she was supposed to break it. Y/N’s been working nonstop for the past week, and when she had the opportunity to relax all by herself in her house, she felt restless. The main reason is that the person who had Seth was one of the most wanted man on the planet. Geonoff Reyes was capable of the vilest things without giving a second thought, and he’s been wanted for years now, and apparently Seth had the newest information of his whereabouts and new plans.

And knowing that was enough to put Y/N in restless nights of sleep, when she was even able to drift off. Most of her hours were invested on figuring out whatever she could, and several nights were only the continuation of her job during the day. And yeah, it was reckless and a bit stupid of her to sacrifice so much in a research, but Y/N knew this was a great opportunity and the biggest amount of clues they’ve ever received, she couldn’t let this all go. And she had to work fast, so Geonoff didn’t have enough time to notice some information missing or that someone outside of his limited inner circle so he wouldn’t chance anything. Or even move outside the country again, putting a massive political obstacle on their way.

Y/N should’ve known better than to barely get any sleep in over seven days. She knew better than to barely eat or drink anything other than coffee. She knew and did it anyone. And that’s why she ended up where she was. Seven A.M. sharp on her little office on her company’s Head Quarters with a killing migraine that only got worse under the fluorescent lights. Y/N groaned softly as she basically collided on her office chair, cursing under her breath whoever thought bright white lights was a great idea. She was softly rubbing her temples when she heard a knock on her door, before someone came in without being invited, a delicious smell of coffee coming alongside the intruder. She didn’t need to look up to know Raul would be standing right in front of her desk.

“What?” she grumbled, spinning in her chair to turn on her computer without even sparing a glance at him.

Raul chuckled “good morning to you too, sunshine, I’m not even daring to ask how you are”

Y/N rolled her eyes and wincing at the pain the movement brought her “look, go pester someone else, I’m not in a good day”

“Yeah, that’s easy to see, gremlin, that’s why I brought you this” and a soft thud on her desk made her turn.

Raul was standing in front of her desk as she imagined, wearing his usual black outfit, a long sleeved tight turtleneck, accentuating all the muscles on his arms and back, tucked into a pair of dark grey trousers and Y/N had to hold back all her thoughts that were rather inappropriate to have on your best friend. And she wanted to be mad at how effortlessly beautiful he looked, just standing there, hands supporting his weight on the glass table as he leant forward casually to pick at her computer. He looked like a fucking runaway model at seven in the morning, his citric scent leaving her slightly intoxicated, but she knew he didn’t do it on purpose, he was just naturally hot.

She than darted her eyes from his body quickly to not seem as if she was ogling him, which she totally was, only to be met with a steaming cup of black coffee. She rolled her eyes on the little attempts of black hearts he drew with a sharpie alongside a poorly written ‘secret admirer’ on the disposable cup. Y/N shook her head huffing a laugh as she took it.

“Aren’t you supposed to thank me?”

Y/N arched her brow at him “what for, exactly?”

“For being the best friend you’ll ever have?!” he stated as if it was obvious “come on, you look like you need it and I swear I didn’t spike it with anything”

“You’re saying you did out of your own free will? A benevolent act?” Y/N questioned playfully inspecting the cup.

Raul scoffed feigning hurt “Of course, I’m a good guy, practically a gentleman, you gremlin, how dare you think any different?” Behind all the teasing in his voice, she could see the worry evident in his golden eyes. Raul didn’t know all the details about what she was digging into since that were her boss’s order, but he knew enough to know she was probably overworking herself and getting a bit anxious. He knew her better than anyone and there were barely any secrets between them.

“Fine” Y/N sighed taking a sip from the coffee, and it was precisely what she liked “thank you for being a decent human being once in your lifetime”

“You are very welcome, so any news?” he asked pointing to the screens of her computer.

“Not really, I guess I was too tired to do much last night” she said opening all the images she had collected over the past week on her five computer screens “you know basically all the important stuff I gathered, I’m also monitoring the surveillance cameras on the places he might be, trying to get a glimpse of him, but till now nothing, only this car that’s been parked here for five days now”

“Weird”

Y/N giggled to herself before closing everything again “yeah, I know”

“So, I didn’t exactly came here just for the coffee” Raul said crossing his arms across his chest, standing on his full height, his biceps popping against the fabric of his shirt.

“Of course not, I was just waiting for you order, cap” she said as she reached into her purse for a painkiller.

His signature smirk appeared as he beamed down at her “Don’t tempt me, doll”

“What is it then?” she asked and before Raul could reply, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in” he managed to say before her and soon enough Raul’s copy stuck his head inside.

“Oh hi guys” Peter said before fully walking in and closing the door behind him “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, what do you need?” Y/N said turning to face him completely.

Seeing Peter right beside Raul just made them look a lot more different. Sure, they were triplets, but they had completely opposite personalities. While Raul looked like a super model bad boy out of every romcom, Peter looked soft and gentle. He was just as handsome, his hair a bit more messy and a pair of glasses perched on his nose, adding to the soft features. He also wore light washed jeans and a very soft looking button up, a permanent blush on his cheeks. And despite the 6’3 and big muscles, he was almost like a walking teddy bear with a golden heart, specially if you got to know him.

“I actually have some stuff for you two to test on my lab downstairs, and I thought since I was already here I could call you two to join me”

“Oh of course” Y/N said jumping to her feet and cursing under her breath, momentarily having forgotten the excruciating migraine she was still having “now right?”

“Yeah, but only if you can”

“Sure, come on, Raul” Y/N said grabbing her cup of coffee before walking to the door.

Raul chuckled lowly before following her and his brother to the elevator “whatever you say, boss”

“Don’t give me any ideas” she mumbled before pressing the button, but as soon as the doors opened, Y/N regretted getting out of her office.

Standing on the elevator was Daphne. Daphne was one breathtakingly gorgeous woman. With bright green eyes and golden soft model like waves, always dressed nicely and with paper white teeth, and to top that, she was a great agent. But she clearly had a crush on Raul and she’s been hitting on him for a while now, but he didn’t seem to care much, which made no sense at all. And for some reason she wasn’t as friendly towards Y/N, Daphne was never directly rude, but she always made sure to look her up and down and was never her friendly self. And Y/N wasn’t one to push anyone to like her, it just made situations like this a bit more awkward.

“Oh hello” Daphne said with a warm smile.

“Morning” Raul responded as he climbed in the elevator.

Y/N mumbled a quick “hi” before moving to the back of it with Peter.

Daphne turned towards Raul and gently placed her hand on his bicep “I heard about the little incident on your latest mission, are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, not even a single scratch”

“That’s great, I mean, how did it happen again? Was it a failure on the planning or watching?” she asked and Y/N almost spat the coffee she was drinking, seeing Peter send a look her way.

“It was my fault actually, the team handed it pretty well” Raul replied unceremoniously.

“Oh, I see” she said pulling her hand from his arm and nervously placing a strand of loose hair behind her ear “hm, actually there was something I wanted to ask you”

God, how long could this elevator take to arrive on the last floor.

Raul only hummed in response, turning his face to the side to watch her so Daphne proceeded “Hm, there’s this new place that opened this weekend down the street and apparently the sandwiches there are amazing, me and a few other agents were planning to have lunch there today, and I was wondering if you’d like to join”

With that he truly seemed taken aback a bit “oh, I unfortunately can’t today, I’m sorry” with that he turned back to face Y/N “that’s what I wanted to tell you earlier, we have that lunch meeting today, Shawn’s in town and he wanted to invite you to lunch with us and his friends”

“Oh shit, I completely forgot” Y/N whined, her head pounding “I don’t think I can make it today, I’m so sorry”

Raul smiled softly at her “yeah, I figured, if you get any better let me know”

“Oh you’re sick?” Daphne asked turning to her as well.

Y/N shook her head, regretting it immediately “just a bit of a migraine”

“I hope you get better soon” Daphne offered a tight lip smile and Y/N just nodded in response.

“We’re here” Peter said for the first time “Bye, Daphne” he said getting out of the elevator pulling Y/N with him.

“Why are you running? Slow down, you’re gonna pull my arm off” Y/N hushed it as Peter kept on with the fast pace.

“What was that?” he asked in a low tone.

Y/N then came in realization “right?! Why won’t he go out with her?”

“I think he might be just not interested at all, but I wasn’t talking about that, you know Raul can be pretty secretive about his feelings, right?” Peter asked with an archer brow, knowing look on his eyes.

Y/N stepped into his lab alongside him “well yeah”

“I don’t know, I think I saw something there”

“Between me and Raul?!”

Peter leaned against his desk with his arms crossed “Well, more of him towards you, it’s actually something I’ve been noticing for a while”

“What are you even talking about? He’s always been like that with me” Y/N tried avoiding Peter’s gaze, afraid somehow that would give away the little spark of hope on her eyes.

“No, I mean, yes, but I feel like that intensified a bit, just pay attention to it” he said and then looked behind her.

Y/N turned around only to be met with Raul standing at the door “sorry, got a little caught up”

“We noticed, cap, it’s okay, no important details were discussed in your absence” she said teasingly and he just rolled his eyes playfully at her.

“Okay, I upgraded your coms a bit, so switching between channels will be easier” Peter started picking up the little earpieces up “And I also took notes about the appearance of my glasses yeah? Now would you mind approving the design of it, miss fashion icon”

Y/N laughed softly and went to check on the 3D design “thank you, I do take fashion very seriously, I only loose it to your brother”

Raul scoffed “Of course I would be involved in it somehow”

Peter laughed “come on, I need to show you this thing I want to put on your suit, Y/N can you please check the new computer I promised you?”

“Oh my, it’s ready?” She said turning to them, suddenly feeling a lot better.

“It’s on the corner right there, just feel free to explore it and adapt it to how you like it best, and then it’s yours” Peter said with a bright smile on his features as he dragged Raul away.

Y/N sat down on the desk he pouted at, opening the super resistant protective case and being faced with a beautiful tiny computer she could use on future missions. She finished her coffee, feeling the medicine kick in as she dumped the empty cup on the trash, before sitting down in front of her new screen and starting to work on it. Y/N lost track of time as she explored the new configurations, installed the programs she used. She only noticed she’s been there for over two hours when she felt someone carefully placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and she looked up to check the time, being met with Raul standing right beside her.

“Oh, hi” she said feeling her face warming up as he smiled softly at her.

“Don’t spend too much time with this, you’ll have more opportunities later, sweetheart, don’t force yourself too much” he squeezed her shoulder a bit and she sighed nodding “how are you feeling?”

She looked up at him, cracking her back on the process “Better, I think the coffee helps a bit and the painkiller did a great job”

“Good, I’m guessing you still won’t be able to make it to Shawn’s crowded and noisy lunch” Raul had a little amused look in his eyes and Y/N giggled at that, shaking her head.

“Definitely not, might as well skip lunch and nap on my lunch break”

Raul nodded “It’s tempting but you need food, now how about I take you to that salad shop you like, we buy ourselves a quick to go one, eat it at your office and nao for like, forty minutes maybe? How does that sound?”

Y/N contained the urge to lunch forward and wrap him in her arms “Pretty fucking great, but what about Shawn?”

“I’ll meet him later for dinner with Peter, so he wouldn’t mind”

“Oh”

“So, are you in, doll?”

Y/N shook her head “you had me in the forty minute nap, say no more”

Raul laughed “Of course I had, know you better than anyone”

“That is unfortunately true” she mumbled grabbing the computer and getting up.

Raul stared at her quizzically “Why is that unfortunate?”

“Cause that will only feed your ever growing ego”

“You wound me, sweetheart” he said with frightened hurt, a hand clutched over his heart.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him as they both said their goodbyes to Peter, who only threw a knowing look in her direction and a little wink when Raul wasn’t looking. She only rolled her eyes, shoving her middle finger in the air behind Raul’s back to Peter, who only laughed in response. But Raul might have felt her arm hovering his back, cause he looked down at her, throwing his charming smile down at her and throwing his arm around her shoulders as the climbed in the elevator again.

Oh great, now Y/N had one more thing to keep her awake all night, wondering if she was crazy and Raul could be somehow interested in her and if she should do something about it. But do what? Tell him she liked him? Kissing him? Confronting someone who already has a hard time talking feelings about how he felt about her?! Only terrible scenarios played in her head with every little thing she thought about. But before she could go on spiraling, Raul gently squeezed her shoulder making Y/N look up at him.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asked smirking at her and she only huffed rolling her eyes, making Raul full on laugh.

-*-

Later that morning, they ended up following Raul’s idea. Around noon he knocked on her office again, with his leather jacket and ready to go, Y/N then just grabbed her coat and purse, ready to follow him to the elevator again. They kept a light banter, talking about conspiracy theories and random gossip, and she felt really better but was too tired to socialize with a lot of people. So they walked down the street a couple of blocks to a little shop where they bought salad bowls and iced tea “to balance things out” according to Raul about how much coffee she’s had the past week.

They ordered to go and walked back to the HQ that looked like a very fancy business building, but instead of going back to her office, they headed to Raul’s instead. There they sat down on his couch since it was bigger as they casually had lunch, and right after, he convinced Y/N to get comfortable on the couch as he relaxed right next to her. Y/N curled into a little ball on the further corner of the couch, but he was quick to tut his tongue at her.

“Here, sweetheart, you can lay your head on my lap and stretch your legs on the couch, yeah? And you can grab that little fluffy blanket if you want” He was quick to offer and Y/N sighed.

“Are you sure?” she asked eyeing him suspiciously “I don’t want to bother you” he chuckled softly and nodded

“Of course, we still have 50 minutes of lunch break, nap a bit, baby, come here” Raul said in such a gentle tone, almost cooing at her and how could she possibly say no to that?

She removed her boots before laying her head on his lap and pulling her legs to stretch across the rest of the couch, while she got comfy, she felt the gentle weight of the thick fluffy blanket being laid on top of her. Y/N sighed in relief as she slowly closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully relax, and feeling the soft caress of Raul’s fingers gently combing through her hair was only making it easier to fall asleep. And so she did.

She dreamed of something random, she was stuck in a boat and it didn’t really make much sense, but it was better than the sleepless nights or the scary things her mind came up with. So waking up was not the best sensation, but Raul managed to make the experience less unpleasant. He was very softly coaxing her to wake up, by gently shaking her shoulder and caressing her cheek, slowly calling her name. Y/N could get used to it.

Raul truly didn’t want to do it, he, himself, didn’t want to get up. He ended up falling asleep a few minutes in, but the timer on his phone vibrating on his hand woke him when he promised he’d wake her up. He almost didn’t have the heart to do it. Y/N looked so peaceful, the frown that’s been on her brows for the whole week was finally gone, but he knew if he didn’t wake her, she’d spend her day blaming herself and wouldn’t be able to sleep properly at night. So he cleared his throat and started calling her gently not to startle her.

Y/N started coming slowly back to her senses, slowly sitting up from Raul’s lap, rubbing at her eyes and checking her phone quickly for important notifications. A low chuckle brought her attention away from her phone and to her best friend beside her, to which she just truly looked at, being able to notice the throw pillow creases on his cheek, the soft curls of his hair a bit messier than usual.

“Hi” he mumbled softly.

Y/N smiled at him before mumbling a “hi” in response.

“Sleep well?” Raul asked as he stretched his arms above his head and she nodded “yeah? I ended up joining you in your nap”

“Don’t blame you, this is a really nice couch”

“Right? Unfortunately this was the first time I took full advantage of it” he chuckled as he got up from the couch, moving to turn on his computer.

Y/N just chuckled before nearly folding his blanket back in its place “well thank you for everything, you truly are a great friend, but I should probably leave and stop bothering you”

“You never bother me, and I know, I’m the best friend anyone could ever wish for” he said sitting on his chair as she leaned down to put her shoes back on.

She just rolled her eyes at him, grabbing her stuff before getting up “there you go, ruining a perfectly sweet moment”

Raul laughed “that’s my biggest ability, doll, thought you knew that already”

“Should’ve guessed it” Y/N said as she opened his door “see you later, thanks again”

Raul just winked at her “anytime” before she closed his door and moved to her office shaking her head, but unable to hold back the smile from blossoming on her lips.

Maybe Peter was wrong and just messing things up, how could he not notice the way Raul affected her? But saw the way he was different with her? It made no sense. And there was no time to go into the rabbit hole, she had better things to do, like spend countless hours uselessly trying to crack a code.

-*-

In the middle of Y/N’s afternoon shift, she was able to spot Geonoff himself on one of the surveillance cameras she’s been watching incessantly for the past weeks. She basically tripped on her on shoes as she scrambled up to her computer to register the appearance, quickly sending it to her boss. They finally were sure where he was and maybe that was enough to set up a plan or something to get him.

Geonoff Reyes was one of the most wanted man right now by intelligences from multiple countries. The man himself had a long list of crimes, that if there was an opportunity would be enough to sentence him for thousands of years. Most of Geonoff’s crimes were related to the mafia, he was one of the biggest and most dangerous bosses there was. He started fairly young, around 15 years old, but that was the extent of information everyone had on his childhood. Some liked to guess it was what kind of household he was raised to blame the way he had become what he became.

He’s been chased for years now, and that’s why Y/N was quick to let her boss, Mrs. Benson, know she found him, compiling all the information she was able to gather this past week in files. So she did what she could and it took her around an hour to have everything printed and organized in a folder, letting Janet she was coming and basically running to the elevator to get to her office.

The heavy metal doors opened on the waiting room outside of her office, being met with Luca, Janet’s personal assistant, who winked at her and pointed at the door. Y/N smiled at him and knocked on the dark wooden doors, opening it silently as she heard people talking inside. Her office was decorated very minimalistic and was usually a very pristine place, but today, there were papers everywhere as Janet, Helen (Janet’s right hand), Dimitri (head of security department) and Raul Mendes stood there apparently discussing the same case.

“Thank God you’re here, darling, please come out this madness to an end” Janet said with a gentle smile as she pointed towards the mess in her table.

Helen chuckled as Dimitri was quick to push their papers to a corner on the table.

“Thank you” Y/N mumbled as she placed her folder down.

Raul silently move to stand right next to her, a careful hand laying on the small of her back in a comforting touch as she looked up at Janet to check if she could start. With a nod from the boss, she started pulling all the evidence she could. All the pictures, the surveillance images, the documents Seth was able to bring back and information he was able to remember as well.

With everything laid out on the table and presented to all of them, Janet ended up telling what she’d been discussing with Helen for the past two days. They both figured the best thing to do at the moment, since they didn’t have enough evidence to make an arrest for this crime and maybe this was a great opportunity to catch another people involved, not only Geonoff. The plan was basically getting new identities and keep a close eye on all of his activities, track down his moves and if possible get even more evidence.

Raul was called because he was the best for this kind of jobs and would be a great leader to the team, Y/N was offered to join the team as well, being his partner and leading the strategic part of the plan. They were also told to pick other agents that they knew would be great for this specific operation, Janet only asking to keep it at a maximum of 5 people including them, the less people knowing, the better.

Of course both agreed and were also instructed to inform Peter so he could separate the gadgets necessary, and obviously intensify their physical training. Despite this being mostly and observant kind of mission, Geonoff was unpredictable and highly dangerous, so being well prepared and extra careful wouldn’t be a bad idea. They were both dismissed for the day and the early shift next morning, so they could rest and plan it as best as they could.

So Y/N was quick to bid her goodbyes as she placed everything neatly back on the folder and moved out of the room. As soon as she pressed the button to call the elevator, she heard the office door opening and closing again, rushed steps moving closer to her. She didn’t even need to look to know Raul was the one approaching her since his scent clouded every room he ever stepped into, she only shook her head and looked up at her right as he stood right beside her. He smirked at her with a little wink.

“My house or yours, doll?” he asked as they climbed into the elevator.

“Tonight?” she eyed him suspiciously as she pressed the button to her floor to grab her stuff and he leaned in to press the one to Peter’s. Y/N glanced at him and noticed he had all of his personal belongings with him.

“Of course, I’ll even order from that Thai place you like”

Y/N giggled shaking her head “of course you will, am I supposed to spend the night?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, I’ll invite Peter too” he said with a smile.

Y/N folded her arms across her chest “I thought we were supposed to rest?”

“Oh but we will, I’ll make sure you’ll fall sleep at reasonable hours, eat properly and all that stuff, of course we’re gonna take a look at work, but just a little” he said with a knowing look.

“Fine, daddy” she added with annoyance, rolling her eyes, Raul just laughed and shook his head.

“You can’t just say stuff like that, sweetheart”

“What? Does it do something for you?” She asked looking up at him and he just shrugged as the doors opened at her floor.

“There’s only one way to find out, doll” he added with a smirk, a teasing tone evident on his voice as he leaned the weight of his body on the elevator doors to hold it for her, shoulders crossed over his broad chest, biceps flexing against the material of his shirt.

Y/N rolled her eyes stepping out of the elevator, ignoring the heat creeping up her face and the stupid flutter on her lower stomach, turning to face him as she said “see you later, Mendes”

“See you, and oh, don’t forget your gym attire, we’re going running at 5:30 sharp tomorrow, bye bye now” he blew her a kiss as he stepped inside and the doors closed before she could add anything.

He was definitely trying to kill her in all the ways possible, she just didn’t know which way would be the fatal blow.

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

@mariamuses

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bubblyani · 3 years

Text

Bloom

(Rick x Reader)

A Rick (Knight of Cups) One Shot

Movie: Knight of Cups (2015) Terrence Malick

Summary: When he pays a visit one fine morning, you realize the immense effect Rick has on your mind, body and soul.

Word Count: 2000+

Rating: Mature

Warning: Sexual Content

Author’s Note: Rick was a visual treat in this movie, thanks to Christian Bale. And thirsting for this character led to another One Shot. Tried to give the writing an aesthetic feeling more than last time. A tribute to Terrence Malick’s style, I suppose. Did my best. But also with some added fan girl frustration *wink* Enjoy y’all!

You’re regretting it now, aren’t you? Coming to see me?

Your heart was aware of your smug query. A sense of smug, that stemmed from the confidence of your words. A sense of smug, that unfortunately was stained by an obvious sadness. The type of stain that refused to be rinsed off. An obvious sadness, for you meant every word.

With your knees locked in an embrace, there you sat on the edge of the bed. Your eyes succeeded in finally freeing themselves from the tempting grasps of the polished wooden floors. They moved up in slow motion, to fill oneself by the breathtaking sight of him. Leaning against the Bedroom door, Rick gently shook his head in a mild manner. As if a frantic response was nearly impossible. And truthfully, that would not have suited him:

I couldn’t stop.

Raising one’s eyebrows, you felt your head tilt to the side:

Stop what?

You swore your eyes were expert enough to trace a soft smile form in that angelic face of his:

Thinking about you.

His words so breathless, tickled your ears long enough, that butterflies began to flutter within you. So breathless, you despised the mere thought of losing them to the wind. His gaze managed to pierce through the distance, resulting in the subtle blushes of your cheeks. Simply put, You were gluttonous for his words. More important, you were gluttonous for him.

However, never did you display it. How could you, when imaginative dark clouds of despair reigned over you with such weight?

Shaking your head, you smiled bowing it down:

Heh…you’re crazy.

Your pointed feet reached the floor with control and grace, feeling the chill in the morning greet your skin. And the very moment you did, the floor urged him to take careful steps towards you. Barefoot and quiet:

Maybe I am…for you

Goosebumps resulted in your skin, and you blamed his seductive poetic soul. Keeping one’s head down, your eyes stealthily watched him approach you. With your pulse quickening all of the sudden, you were tempted to conceal it all. Conceal those lines in your face that nature had bestowed upon you. Conceal the skin your mother had gifted you. Conceal the imperfection that you yourself had stowed away with such expertise, from the entire world. Undoubtedly, the flame of insecurity was certainly strong and burning bright at that very moment.

Until it was extinguished, by the his mere touch.

Shaky breaths exited your lips as his hand rested on your head, his long fingers digging into your hair with the sole intention of intimacy with your scalp. Your eyelids fluttered frantically, for you were intoxicated, you were spellbound. The manner in which his fingers made contact with your scalp, some would even wonder if they were lovers in secret. For his fingers, they treated it as if it was the most precious, awakening your entire body in every possible manner. Gathering courage, you looked up to find the man who rejuvenated your senses.

With his beautiful, chiseled frame adorned with a long sleeved black v-neck top and pants, Rick was nothing short of a refreshed, visual pleasure. While the satin negligee still lingered in your frame, with messy bed hair and smudged eyeliner as the shameful accompanists. Empty bottles of wine and spilled bottles of pills occupied the bedside cupboard. Already 11 in the morning, and you were nothing short of a mess.

This…this is me. This is who I really am.

Your eyes enunciated every word, gazing directly into his very own. Truth was inevitable to escape your soul, when you were staring at divinity. The sunlight streamed through the white curtains, illuminating his frame, for he was a god. A deity who descended into earth, robbing himself of time, just for you: A withered flower.

You never hid that.

Rick’s eyes shone, warm as the sunlight on a winter’s morn.

Never with me.

And before you could protest, a gust of wind swept you away. The wind that were his loving arms, pulling you up with ease. Permitting your body to press against his, you felt his lips unite yours in a gentle kiss.

You first ever knew of Rick’s existence not too long ago. More specifically when your eyes met from across the room, at a party one Summer’s Eve. And it certainly did not seem like sweet coincidence, especially in the comfort of a Billionaire’s Mansion in Los Angeles. Truthfully, it would seem eventual, for all knew all in entertainment. As the distance between the two of you grew smaller, his curiosity was made well known to you. A curiosity, which was satisfied the very moment an onlooker of a musician hurriedly played your latest music video on his phone, posing the question to Rick with disbelief:

“Don’t you know who she is?”

“Dude, Rick’s a legend. Doesn’t she know who HE is?”

In all fairness, a smile could have graced your lips upon glancing at this handsome stranger, in the midst of the queries from the onlookers around. You could have acknowledged the dilation of his pupils, by showing him your very own. You could have made very clear of your own growing curiosity about him. But you did not. For you were weary, in mind, body and soul.

Live Shows, Recordings, Photo shoots and Press Junkets. In the midst of them all, you were just a name, a mere symbol of profit milked by all those around you. Blinded by power, it seemed none of them were aware of the husk they leave behind when the day was done. The husk of a young woman, left to mend herself back in her lonesome. The young woman swept away by the tornado of fame with such speed, she lost her sense of purpose that existed in the very beginning.

Until his curious kiss that night, urged you to engage in a rediscovery.

You never hid that. Never with me

He was right. With him, you were always yourself: unapologetically. Without question.

His kisses were consistent. They were the sips of water the dry throat craved for days. His lips were the hands that held on to you with care, guiding you sensually to form your own Rumba. And this morning, with the sunlight streaming over your own head, and with your hands wrapped around his neck, you were bestowed with a rush of pure exuberance. In simpler terms, you were alive.

Possessed with life, your movements suddenly were the epitome of energy and speed. You pushed him away, giggles causing your voice to crack as you leaped to the bed. And for Rick, it was simply an invitation to join you in a game of catch. A game that will be won without hesitation. And he did, gripping you by the ankle, only to pull you back to him as you fell on the mattress. Squeals vanished the moment you found his figure hovering over, leaving you breathless. And all the sudden, exuberance morphed into tranquility, for you were transfixed, hypnotized. For he was responsible.

With the blink of an eye, you found his face inches away from yours. When breathing were finally in syncopation, the world seemed to stand still. The soft brunette hair that framed his face, dared to tickle your cheeks as his lips were drawn in to yours with a magnetic force. However, he defied nature’s law, by pulling away in tease. Just when they were millimeters close. Frustration was evident in your stomach, that your eyes began to display it without a shred of embarrassment.

But he caught you by surprise, as his accentuated nose brushed against your forehead.

You’re beautiful.

Shivers managed to appear, for those words never failed to move you. Taking the role of painter, he moved downwards in sweet torture, awakening every inch of your face: Your closed eyelids, your own nose, your burning cheeks, and under appreciated chin. Your lips yet, were discriminated.

Parting them with frustration, you stared at the ceiling with desperation as his torture continued south. Shaky breaths were incited, when his nose made contact with your bare neck. Even more so when he mindlessly painted your body with desire, crossing the borders through the collarbone.

Butterflies fluttered as the tip of his nose made strategic, temporary stops over your mountainous geography. Two erect peaks formed through the satin plains on either sides once he wandered over your heaving bosom with leisure. Nether muscles tightened, resulting in moans of the softest nature. Throwing your head back, you winced and gasped when he pulled your negligee up, permitting his brush to paint over the exposed stomach. If your body was awakened before, now it was slowly being lit up in flames. A slow burn, to be precise.

You’re intoxicating

Moans grew loud and unabashed, when he had the audacity to reach down your thighs.

I want you.

Putting his brush of a nose aside, he began to play Aesthete. And it was evident he did, the moment his lips attacked your inner thighs with gentle kisses.

Mine.

Leaving your thighs burning, he kept his gaze affixed while his fingers urged your lace panties to part from your legs, opening the door that deemed most secretive. His intentions were made aware. And feeling the growth under his pants with your foot, you could not help but agree. Especially when your legs locked around his waist in a hurry. However, you were surprised even further when he switched positions in a heartbeat, allowing you to straddle him in return.

All of you. All mine.

His eyes, they burned. His words, they haunted. His hands, they were impatient. Not to undress himself, but to hold onto your own hands instead. Pulse quickening, your mind was full of queries as he pulled you closer.

And closer, past his stomach. And closer, past his chest.

The very moment he gave a final tug, realization washed over you. For you knew how exactly Rick, the wanderer, the observer, the adventurer wanted you. Right to the exact detail. Licking ones lips, you shuddered as you lifted yourself up:

Then want me. Please.

Your plea was sudden, desperate, yet there were no regrets. Desirous need was all that was filled in you, when you sank yourself low, when you sank yourself slow, to have his ethereal face welcome the region right between your quivering thighs. To have his hungry lips finally taste the mere essence of your being.

You gasped, out loud. The simplest brush of his lips, his facial hair were simply triggers, akin to a centralized button that set off a theme park a lit. And like in a theme park, you were on a ride of a lifetime.

Want me, like you never wanted anyone.

Keeping your balance with your knees firmly rooted on the soft white sheets, you rolled your hips. You rolled them in steady rhythm. Back and forth. All the while you felt his nose rub against your moist opening, and while his generous mouth proved his hunger for you. And he was not the one to waste any time.

Want me, as if your life depended on it.

You rolled, you rode. Holding on to your own hair, you were possessed with such greed, you knew you would go mad. Mad with ecstasy. For his lips were divine. His kisses translated to hunger in abundance. His tongue, did not fail to fall behind. If his nose played the artist, then his tongue played the writer, versatile enough to weave his own love notes in poetic form in the inner most intimate centre of your glorious body. His words roused you, till your moans were melodic and repetitive.

Want me, as if you love me.

With your pleas, your arms extended involuntarily. A shadow, caught your attention, as your eyes moved towards the bedside. It appeared so flexible, so lively. It was yours. As you kept glancing at it writhing in pleasure, in the midst of your moans and his, the realization was clear as the morning itself. No sign of exhaustion, nor any sign of hopelessness. A smile was all your face could provide you, and empowerment was all your heart could afford.

The withering in you had vanished. Your heart had no trace. For Rick, he was the sunshine, and hydration incarnate. For he was the nourishment. Your nourishment. And thus you, a once withered flower, now finally bloomed in full.

——————————————————

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#Christian Bale #Knight of Cups #knight of cups 2015 #terrence malick #Rick #Rick x Reader #Knight of Cups Fanfiction #Christian Bale Characters #Aesthetic #Aesthetic smut #knight of cups imagines #christian bale imagines #bruce wayne #batman begins #tdk #the dark knight #the dark knight rises

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sanguinesorceress · 4 years

Text

Marked For Death (Part 3)

[Part 1]

[Part 2 ]

Suspicious Death of Magister Deemed Homicide

Toxicology reports have uncovered the cause of death for a Kirin Tor Magister to be a deadly toxin more commonly known by its street name of “Zanzil’s Slow Poison.” Believed to be completely incurable, the outlawed toxin is either ingested or absorbed through direct contact, triggering the gradual deterioration of multiple internal organs before resulting in what can only be described by medical experts as “an excruciating death.” Authorities are baffled as a recent interview with the medical examiner has revealed “there is no definitive way of knowing precisely when the victim came into contact with the toxin. Several factors such as body mass, diet, exercise, and the use of other medications, can alter the timeline when attempting to calculate the exact moment of poisoning. Unfortunately, we are working with an approximation of one week at best.” If anyone has any information regarding the suspicious death of Magister Jadex, authorities are encouraging them to come forward at this time.

As the ‘Tide Seer’ dispersed with a splash of salt water and collapsed into a lifeless heap of seaweed on the shore, the Sorceress appeared on a cliffside elsewhere.

"Such an intriguing cloth to wear,” remarked the watcher from the shadows as he stepped to her side, “especially when used to turn a suspicious eye toward the already disreputable Kvaldir.” She could feel his frigid stare burning into the crimson fabric of her hood, but she dared not glance his way. Not yet. For now, her eyes remained glued to the Kaldorei’s silhouette down below, watching him saddle up in preparation for his immediate departure.

As per their agreement, her co-conspirator had tailed the assassin across the continent while taking every precaution to ensure his presence went unnoticed. Looming high overhead, he observed the Sorceress’ performance from the safety of a cave through a network of scrying orbs she had organized beforehand. Already confident of the answer, she sought the opinion of her companion for the sake of making conversation. “Do you believe he will comply?”

"You understand your prey, Sorceress. You know their weaknesses and just how to exploit them,” he remarked dispassionately. “The living will throw all caution to the wind when love is concerned, whether to obtain said infatuation or to protect it, I find it quite pathetic, really.”

She glanced over her shoulder, rivaling the intensity of his gaze with that of her own. “Is that so?” she prodded, and an amused grin pulled her sable lips tighter than a garrotting wire, “Is there nothing in this world you would protect with your life?”

Her question brought a telling smirk to his face. Haunting was that subtle gesture, the look of a man who housed layer upon layer of intricacies that were nearly impossible to unravel. "Blindness" he scoffed, and although the word was little more than a whisper, his authoritative voice carried above the crashing waves, refusing to be overcome by their ceaseless roar. "Blind love. Blind actions. Blind movements in the dark. Flailing arms trying to grasp at hope, at an opportunity to free one’s self from whatever chains they have shackled themselves with.” His eyes found her target, the shaken Kaldorei, and his grin stretched into something far more sinister.

"What I cherish, dear lady, cannot —and does not— need protecting.” His eyes flared into a mixture of blue flame and shadow, as his gaze returned to the Sorceress. "You need only notice the bones under your feet, the cuts you make, and the lives you absolve from this realm. Gaze deeply into the eyes of those you claim, bask in the realization of their fate —of their untimely end—then, in those eyes, you will see what I love."

It was for this very purpose she had chosen him to carry out this important task in her overarching plan. The man’s ideals were iron-clad, armoring him against unwelcome influences, thereby distinguishing him as a powerful ally. Having served his tenure under the Lich King, the Shepherd, once awakened, vowed to never again succumb to the same ‘blindness’ as the living. Perceived to be walking abominations in the eyes of mortals, the two shared the belief that they were lucid dreamers existing alongside a comatose society.

“I would like for you to continue your surveillance on the young assassin to ensure he fulfills his task.” She handed him a satchel, and judging by the clinking sounds coming from within the leather bag, it housed several glass vials. “I have procured enough invisibility potions to conceal you from the scrying eyes in Dalaran.” A single, cautionary finger stabbed the air as she relayed a warning. “They will only hide your appearance, not your aura, therefore I advise you suppress any urges you may have to use magic over the next twelve hours.”

A trying task. The simplicity of it was presented before him, yet the request was made all the more complex in the back of his mind. For one who dwelled among the shadows, who lingered out of sight only to be seen as the last thing to be seen, he understood intimately that strategy was paramount in a situation such as this. "Hide what I am.” It was a familiarity that soon reclaimed him. Conceal yourself. Don't let them catch you. Pallid lips twisted ever so slightly as he accepted the Sorceress’ magical aid. "Be it by shadow, unholy magic, or physical inevitability… Death always collects its due.” He curled his plated fingers around the bag and held it close to his chest. "You shall have your result."

From the moment the Tide Seer dispersed, Oneth knew the clock was ticking.

12 Hours. Starting now. Think fast, you can do this.

Eliminate target number one = 4 Hours (Including travel time, cleanup, and disposal.)

12 - 4 = 8

8 Hours

Target number two would require preventative methods and careful planning. His death won’t be nearly as easy to cover up while meeting the Tide Seer’s conditions of a ‘slow and excruciating death.’

Excruciating Death = Zanzil’s Slow Poison

Acquire reagents from usual suppliers = 6 hours

Create and administer toxin = 4 hours

6 + 4 = 10

8 - 10 = Dead Wife

Not an option. Try again, Oneth.

Acquire half of the reagents locally, the other half from usual suppliers = 3.5 hours

Create and administer toxin = 4 hours

3.5 + 4 = 7.5

7.5 Hours (with 30 mins serving as a buffer for small errors)

This won’t be easy, but if it will save her life, I have to at least try. Now, to make this happen and not fuck up.

He had worked tirelessly through the night, and thus far, not only was everything going according to plan, but according to schedule. Perhaps lady luck was on his side, or maybe the Gods had finally decided to smile upon him. Whatever the reasoning, he was not one to question his good fortune.

Even with the use of portals, the majority of his time was consumed by travel. The places he was required to visit were remote, and with good reason. Herbalists were forbidden to stock the full ingredient list and alchemists were outlawed from making or carrying the deadly poison. Anyone caught with the knowledge of its procurement were obligated to report suspicious activity to the authorities, and there were few business owners willing to risk their livelihood or their reputation on an assassin regardless of how tempting the bribe may be.

Each reagent had to be purchased from a different supplier, then combined in the privacy of an undisclosed location to avoid suspicion. This was not the first time he had created Zanzil’s Slow Poison, but it was certainly the first he had done it on such short notice.

“Your tea, Sir,” trilled the waitress as she placed a steaming beverage before the Magister. “Only a half-spoon of honey; just the way you like it.”

Scholar’s hands, smoothed by the caress of only the finest parchment in Dalaran, wrapped around the teacup. Stolen warmth snaked its way up his arms and scalded his lips as he flashed her a heated smile. “My dear, sweet, Lady. It appears you are working late, yet again.” Despite what he would have others believe, the Magister was not as gentle natured as he feigned. His tips were overly generous, particularly when it came to pretty faces, and such generosity would grant him a night or two with a supple body to warm his bed. (Before they discovered the dark, sadistic desires he harbored behind closed doors.) This evening’s prize had been particularly elusive over the past several weeks and tonight he was certain she would succumb to his particular brand of charm. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I did not fret for your safety at such a late hour. Would you allow me the honor of escorting you home after your shift this evening?”

As the two conversed, Oneth carried on with his work, seemingly overwhelmed by the persistent duties of being a porter. Tables were cleaned, empty glasses were cleared, and bottles were retrieved from the cellar upon request. Never did he cease to move, the buzzing bee that he was, and he flitted from table to table with the enthusiasm of a young lad eager to please. Let them grow comfortable with the diligent worker so they may overlook the stinger at his back. It was menial work, but necessary in order to maintain certain appearances, and the bustle of the tavern helped to bring a semblance of normalcy to an otherwise unorthodox lifestyle. Now and again, Oneth allowed his gaze to wander in their direction, waiting for the exact moment when all of his careful planning would come to fruition.

Twenty seven minutes and counting.

After an excruciatingly painful exchange, his coworker managed to, yet again, artfully decline the polite pervert and evade his overeager hands. Evidently the Magister would be going home alone again, but tonight’s loss would do little to thwart his redoubled attempt tomorrow. Oneth had witnessed this ‘act’ on more than one occasion. He would be doing her, in addition to his employer, a favor by ridding the world of this viscid parasite.

Eighteen minutes.

Long after the tea, and his advances had gone cold. Magister Jadex commenced his nightly exiting ritual. The empty teacup was returned to its saucer, followed by the jingle of too many coins being placed upon the table in a grandiose show of ‘appreciation,’ and lastly the dabbing of his lips with a paper napkin. Only this time, the napkin would bear both the message and the means of his demise. At first, the Magister appeared not to notice the writing, but rather than make a scene, he lowered it to his lap where he could read the words discreetly.

One day I will return and you won’t be around to see me rise again.

No dilation of pupils, no widening of eyes, no frantic searching for the culprit ensued. Nothing occurred despite knowing with absolute certainty that he had received the message. Oneth found himself both perplexed and slightly intrigued. Perhaps this was not the first threat the Magister had received. Instead, the note was pocketed, and he bid his coveted prize a good evening before gracefully taking his leave.

Unfortunately for him, this was not just a threat. It was a delayed execution, and with the strange pearl already concealed within the Magister’s home, all he had to do now was wait.

[ Co-written with @lazraelbandtherion as his respective part. ]

@hmratking @loveherdekay @safrona-shadowsun @duraxxor

#Plot: Marked for Death #part three #read all three parts #you will not be disappointed #sanguine sorceress #the shepherd in wolf's clothing #The Rat King #the rat queen #so sorry this took so long #thank you for your patience #stay tuned for more to come #sorceress literature

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mechanical-watch · 3 years

Text

How Often To Service A Rolex

Why is it important to maintain my timepiece?

wristwatches are among the most precise continuous-running, constantly operating, and sophisticated timepieces made by humans. A simple quartz model is a good illustration. It is comprised of 45 parts and around 80 components. It is evident that the basic automatic manual timepiece has around 80 components with 150 separate components. Chronograph instruments comprise approximately 100 parts, while the total number can reach 200.

Rolex Overhaul Cost

Although manufacturers have taken extreme care to avoid friction within their components, friction remains a significant cause of wear on timepieces. It is essential to maintain proper performance by providing adequate servicing. Due to parts' mobility it is difficult to completely eliminate wear.

Dont forget to learn about Rolex Service Fee before you make a decision about a watch. When it comes to components, think about the balance wheel, which is usually one centimeter in diameter in most gents automatic timepieces. If this little wheel, which is placed on pivots made of steel and can be allowed to roll rather than oscillate and is serviced every 3-4 years, it can roll a distance greater than the Earth's equator, which is 24,900 miles.

How to clean a scratched crystal-glass watch

The crystal or scratch marks on your watch may cause it to be difficult to read the time. Clean any scratches off the crystal or watch prior to replacing it. It is easy and only requires a few items.

Check the back of the watch to determine whether there is any gap between the rear and watch glass. You can remove the crystal from the back by looking for the place where they connect. Use the screwdriver of a small size to gently take the crystal out of the casing of the watch.

Determine the material of the crystal on your watch. While plastic watches' crystals are warm to touch the crystals of glass watches feel cold.

To polish watch crystals made of plastic, use Autosol for polishing, for polishing glass crystals, apply Brasso. It is possible to apply a tiny bit of each substance to a gentle cloth and rub it lightly across the crystal's faces in tiny circles.

To track your progress, work the Autosol or Brasso into the crystal of your watch and then polish it. If your watch is in good condition then you can polish the crystal. Apply more products to eliminate any scratches that remain, and then clean the watch crystal completely.

Replace the watch crystal by pressing it hard against the casing with your fingers. To prevent breaking the crystal, do not apply excessive pressure to the centre of the watch glass; instead, apply pressure on the edges.

What is an automatic timepiece?

A instrument that is automatic simply refers to a time-telling device consisting of a number of small parts. The power source is kinetic energy and not by a battery (movement). They don't need manual winding, unlike mechanical instruments.

This article will explain everything about automatic devices. We'll cover all aspects of it and what you need in order to understand the complex engineering feats that were simplified by our forefathers.

Although smart models may eventually replace instruments that are automatic in the future, you don't need to worry. The fashionable and ingenuous piece of ingenuity that has won the hearts of women (and men) because of its style, durability speed, and endurance is still loved by the majority of people.

How to repair a scratched bezel of the watch

The face of a precious watch can become scratched and damaged. A scratched dial is not always an indication that the watch should be fixed. Although the most severe scratches (those that can be made by hammering them into with nails) as well as chips are not a repair at home, the majority of scratches and scuffs are easily removed. You can polish the watch using mild abrasive substances and some elbow grease. It will look like new.

You can apply a tiny bit of toothpaste on the watch's bezel. Abrasive toothpaste should be used if it is. Watch-related products can be utilized by jewelers who offer lotions specially made for the purpose. Minor blemishes can be eliminated by using brass-cleaning chemical. Both are used in exactly the same way.

Rub the polish or toothpaste in a circular motion. Regularly check the bezel to make sure the scratch is gone.

To remove toothpaste or any other substance from the bezel, wipe it down with a clean, wet cloth.

With a soft dry cloth, you can polish the bezel until it is gleaming and spotless.

Make a paste with the powder of jeweler's rouge and sufficient water. Mix enough ingredients together to create an emulsified dough roughly the size the pea.

Make use of a cotton swab apply the paste to the watch's bezel. Use gentle pressure while rubbing it in circular motion.

Allow the lipstick to dry for a few minutes. Remove the jeweler's rouge with a clean dry, dry cloth.

Clean the bezel's surface using gentle cloth until it shines.

Can you wear a Rolex in the ocean?

All Rolex wristwatches can be waterproof up to 100m for Oyster Perpetual models or 50m for Cellini models. To remove salt or sand deposits from your watch, clean it using water.

How do I get paperwork for my Rolex?

It is best to buy it from an authorized Rolex retailer. The papers could also be original booklets, such as the guarantee and manual, which you can purchase from a secondhand vendor since they are general and do not pertain to a particular watch.

How do I get my Rolex serviced?

Rolex directly or an independent watchmaker with a Rolex parts account are the two major options to service your Rolex.

Does a Rolex tick?

Rolex watches don’t make the ticking sounds that other watches do. Counterfeiters might not be able to clean all the gears at once, so they make ticking sounds that aid in identifying fakes fast. It is not an uninterrupted sweep, as eight ticks are typical for Rolex tick models.

Does Rolex make profit?

Rolex has a non-profit status. Rolex isn't owned by one individual. The trustees of the foundation determine how revenue is divided. As a charitable organization it is able to enjoy significant tax breaks.

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intoanothermind · 4 years

Text

Midnight Queen - Edmund Pevensie

Word Count: 3.4k words

-- Edmund Pevensie x reader

Synopsis: Edmund just couldn’t resist meeting up with an commoner every midnight.

Masterlist

You know, he wanted things to be different.

All he wanted was to tell everyone that he loved her. But he couldn’t. Narnia was not as easy to deal with as it seemed, especially as he was one of the four ruling kings - the four most famous. What would they say if King Edmund came with the news that he was in love with a commoner? He always compared Narnia to the times of monarchy in his homeland. If a royal appeared with someone who wasn't one, the scandal was set. And he didn't want that in Cair Paravel. Especially when the law says that Peter should get married first.

But of course Edmund never imagined that he would fall in love. And in such an unusual way.

Edmund could no longer stand that festivity. He didn't want to have to go on to that ball that was meaningless to him. What drives a person to dance in the middle of winter, as if it was something to celebrate? Edmund wish to understand what goes through his brother’s head. What Peter saw as a celebration of what winter would no longer be, Edmund saw as a reminder of what he almost allowed to remain. Years passed, and he still blamed himself for the choices he made in the past. He would never forgive himself for that and would always regret it.

Edmund sighed, giving up on the idea of letting his sisters knowing he was leaving the room. No one had paid attention to him since the ball started, and it wouldn't be now that they would. It already came to terms with it. So he simply exited through the main gate of the hall. He paced through the gardens slowly, watching the flowers around him as he had seen Lucy doing now and then. Outwardly, he looked like a calm and calculating king, but only he knew what really went on the inside.

Sighing again, Edmund sat on the far bench in the garden, resting his head in his hands. But the sound of a branch cracking near him caught his attention. He looked around for the origin of the sound and saw some movement in some branches not too far away. He ran in time to catch a girl who fell off a branch and held her tightly to prevent her from going straight to the ground.

“Are you alright?” He asked, really worried about the petite girl’s state still in his arms.

Edmund smiled at the memory that invaded his mind. At first glance, she looked really fragile. But that was just appearance.

“Yes, I am, thank you.” The girl said roughly, jumping from Edmund's arms in a perfect jump.

Edmund looked closely at her features, her black hair, and her blue eyes. Something about her had puzzled him at first glance. Her delicate face might confuse her with a princess, but her robes denied this theory. However clean and well-groomed the beige dress was, the peasant seam work was clear. And for some reason unknown to Edmund at that time, he sympathized with the girl. Maybe her fragile appearance, maybe her attempt to sneak in, maybe her harsh way of treating him, maybe her mesmerizing blue eyes or just the fact that she seemed braver than he was to stand up to things.

“What's your name?” asked an interested Edmund.

“Y/N.”

“I am...”

“I know who you are.” She interrupted almost immediately.

But Edmund wasn’t taken aback.

“What are you doing here?” Edmund asked, even tough he already knew the answer.

And he clearly saw the moment her already pale skin paled even more. And she was clearly looking for an escape.

Edmund smiled. “What do you think about coming in with me?”

“What?!”

“Yeah, want to join me at the ball?”

“B-but they...” she looked for an excuse but Edmund prevent her from continuing.

“I don't care what they think.”

And for the first time, that was true.

Edmund remembered pretty well Peter's reaction to his appearing with Y/N in that room. It hadn’t been the best, but after he had insisted for a moment, the blonde had given in. And from that day on, he would always insist on her. That was one of the only certainties he had in life. And his urges wouldn't stop there.

“Edmund, are you sure?” Y/N asked one day. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

It was one of the days they would meet up. Y/N had unexpectedly become his best friend. They danced at that ball perfectly, delighting everyone, and talked until the end of the event. Since then, they had begun to meet in the woods around the castle at midnight. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they would walk, and sometimes they would be quiet, just enjoying each other's company.

“I still don't understand where did you get the idea that you brings me trouble!” complained Edmund, rolling his eyes.

It was already two o'clock in the morning - they never passed one o’clock - and Edmund insisted on taking the girl to the village near the castle. It was close, but not so much.

“I don't know, Eddie.” She said, blushing and feeling a little uncomfortable. “You’re at the risk of your brother catch you meeting with a commoner. I know King Peter is kind, but that goes against all the laws already imposed before.”

Edmund took a deep breath and took Y/N's hand in his, causing her to stop shaking almost instantly with the warmth of his hand.

“I told you, Y/N.” he said, minimally smiling while playing with the fingers of the girl. “I don’t care what they say.”

And without leaving much time for her to answer, he pulled her hand directing them to the stables.

Edmund lifted his head to the ceiling and smiled slightly as he closed his eyes, trying to remember all the sensations that midnight had brought him. The feeling of his hands around Y/N's thin waist as he lifted her to Phelipe's horse saddle. The sensation of being behind her, supporting her body against his chest and enveloping her in his arms. He remembered being afraid that she would fall, but Y/N seemed to ride even better than him. Perhaps she had spent her life doing that, but what had been most recorded in Edmund's mind about that particular day was what had happened when he left her home.

“Good night, King Edmund.” Y/N teased. She was about to go through the door of his simple little house, having a half malicious smirk on her lips.

Edmund rolled his eyes. “I already told you there’s no need to call me that!”

Y/N laughed, knowing how annoyed he would get when she called him that. But she also knew how handsome he looked with his flushed cheeks.

“Alright, have a good night, Eddie.” She repeated.

Edmund smiled this time, and approached to give a gentle kiss on the girl's cheek. But it seems that there was some calculation error and Y/N also turned around with the Y/Ne intention. So, seconds later, when both their lips touched, just enough so that they noticed what had happened and they departed quickly, both flustered.

“Uh... Well...” Edmund started, scratching the neck in a clear sign of discomfort. “Good night, Y/N. See you tomorrow.”

Edmund then leaned over and kissed Y/Nmanhta's cheek. This time, on the right target.

But Y/N hadn’t appeared at the midnight after that. Neither in the other, nor in the other after that, nor another two days after that. It had been like this for almost a week and Edmund was already a nervous wreck. He was afraid she had ignored him on purpose because of the night they kissed. It wasn’t like Edmund didn’t like it, but it just wasn’t the right time to get involved. At least not for him. He'd discount his mood on anything he saw. Was it a corner broken vessel, the lack of appetite for the delicious food of the palace’s cooks, writing reports without the needed precision...

Several of these factors happened throughout the week, and Peter had even asked what had happened. Edmund didn’t mean to tell him about his encounters, so he told him it was just tiredness. Of course the blond didn’t believe in sorry excuse of story, but gave him time off from their obligations. Free time that Edmund used to ride to the village where Y/N lived.

Edmund knocked at the door of the simple village house, afraid of his theories for Y/N distancing herself. He hated to think that she had been avoiding him because of their kiss. Simple for outside observers, but for Edmund it was the missing detail for him to finally understand about his confused feelings. It had been months since they met and had been hiding, but since then Edmund couldn't stop thinking about the girl.

Amazing was also the fact that, since then, he had stopped thinking about his mistakes. Mistakes that he would blame himself to this day if the dark blue-eyed girl hadn’t appeared in your life. But that day, at that ball, his torments became different. Why he couldn’t stop thinking about that girl? She had nothing special, no land, no titles, nothing! And maybe that was why she intrigued him so much. And since the last day they saw each other, Edmund had been able to organize his thoughts and finally come to the conclusion that he loved this commoner.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?” The girl's voice distracted him from his thoughts and he felt his heart clenching.

He flashed a smile at her, but it soon faded when he saw the girl's slightly fragile and sad appearance.

“Y/N? What happened? When you didn’t show up in the woods, I was worried.

Y/N gave him a slight smile.

“Come in.” she invited, giving him space to go in.

Edmund came in, a little uncomfortable, but soon felt at home when noticing the simple appearance the house also exuded inside. He loved the luxurious comfort of Cair Paravel castle, but couldn't help but feel comfortable with the old-fashioned living room as well.

“What happened, Y/N?” He asked again to the girl, who was now standing in front of his and her head down.

“My dad.” She said, averting her gaze to the closed door that was on the opposite wall. “He’s sick, I had to take care of him.”

Edmund smiled with compassion and then put his hand on his belt.

“Good thing I always bring Lucy's potion for emergencies.” He said, smiling with a bit of mischief and taking the bottle from his robes.

Y/N's eyes widened. “What?! No! You don't have to use this with us!”

“Y/N.” Edmund said, approaching her and holding her chin in his free hand. “I already said that for you I would do anything.”

Edmund was proud to see a shy smile spread between Y/N's flushed cheeks, and he smiled.

“Now take me to your father, I have a commoner to save.”

Edmund opened his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. He didn't know if he would have the courage to leave this room to have his serious talk with Peter, but it was necessary. But without his best memories of the best times with Y/N, he wouldn’t gather the courage to do so. It was a difficult decision, almost impossible, but for Y/N he would do it. So he was at that moment alone in his room, mustering up the courage.

That day he was after her, he managed to cure the commoner. He was a kind young man, but his hard work and the constant sun had aged him irreversibly. But still, he had a young spirit. He chatted happily with Edmund, as if he didn’t realize that he was in the Y/Ne room as one of the kings of Narnia. As would his daughter do. Edmund liked the man even better when he said that after Y/N had met him, she had become a more open, receptive, and friendly person. Edmund was invited for dinner sometime in that simple house with the two of them, and he didn’t refuse.

But a memory that would never fade from his memory would come a few weeks after his first dinner in that house. He never imagined that he would know paradise until he saw her that way.

Bare back, wet hair and white skin. It was all Edmund saw, but it was enough for him to think of inappropriate thoughts with the bathing woman's body. After all, what had happened to him as he left before midnight to wait for her in the woods? Well, he was feeling guilty, but how would he know that Y/N was bathing in the river near the meeting point? He had been lucky that the girl didn’t realize his presence.

Edmund controlled his mind to avoid inappropriate images. He didn't need to be excited right now. So, therefore, decided to launch the web of thoughts in another direction. Their first kiss, maybe?

“What are you doing?” Asked Edmund, laughing when he saw Y/N sprawled among the fallen leaves after tripping over a protruding root.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” She answered sarcastically, but hiding a slight smile at the corner of her lips. “The very comfortable floor and leaves in the hair are the latest fashion in the village!” He mocked.

Edmund rolled his eyes but smiled. “You look beautiful anyway.”

It was Y/N's turn to roll her eyes - blushing, of course. Edmund reached out to help her to her feet, but didn’t imagine the girl's mischief smirk until he was lying on her, hearing her angelic laughter. When it stopped, their eyes met. Blue in brown and brown in blue. It might seem strange, but for them it was the perfect match. Just like their lips together, as they were seconds later. And of course neither of them walked away.

Since that day, kisses and more kisses have been going on. Whenever they saw each other, whenever they said goodbye, whenever they shut up and whenever they talked too. The kisses became such a vice between them that it was almost humanly impossible to live a second without feeling each other's lips.

As soon as he saw her, Edmund took her in his arms and kissed her with passion. It was a wild, longing kiss, obliterating any feeling that overwhelmed their hearts. A kiss never experienced by them, but that meant the world.

“Wow!” Y/N commented, separating her lips from his due to breathlessness, but moving away completely. “Was that all you miss?”

“You have no idea.” Edmund answered, giving light kisses of pleasure on the target girl's neck.

“But we haven't seen each other in just two days!” Y/N laughed, closing her eyes to prolong the sensations that Edmund's lips caused on her skin.

“It seemed to me like eternity.” Said Edmund finally, before taking her lips in another kiss.

Maybe it was one of their last nights together. At least until Susan shows up with the two princesses.

Edmund was holding on not to grab her there in front of everyone. Especially since she wore the Y/Ne dress she had on the night they met. And that, Edmund would never forget. But it was easy to forget that they couldn't meet, much less fraternize. He and Peter were there to meet the requests of the commoners of the nearest villages; and that included Y/N and his father, who were in the midst of all those people in front of the kings throne.

“Calm down, please!” Asked Peter, probably for the tenth time at that time. It was hard to please everyone. “We'll try to meet everyone, won't we, Edmund?”

But Edmund had eyes only for her. He always had eyes only for her, and it hurt her to know that they couldn't make official whatever there was between them. That was all Edmund wanted. He could see that Y/N was starting to get a little uncomfortable with the staring, after all, they were being obvious. But he couldn't help it, especially when he saw her whisper something to her father and he would say something that made her blush even more.

But something caught the boy's eye, and it wasn't his brother trying to call him. It was the giant doors of the Throne Room that brought with them their sister Susana and two blond girls who were immediately identifiable as royalty.

“Susana?” Asked Pedro, confused. “What is happening?”

Susan smiled. “These are Loren and Annelise. They are the pretending princesses to have yours and Edmund's hands.”

At this moment, Edmund's world break as much as Y/N's heart.

Edmund hated to remember that after that, Y/N had only appeared in the woods at midnight just once more. They fought - and fought ugly. Edmund wanted to throw it all away and run away with her, even though he knew it would destroy his reputation and would be branded a traitor and a coward. The worst wasn’t the fight they had itself. But the last words he'd heard from Y/N's mouth.

Go, stay with Loren. Do what is right.

Edmund took a deep breath and walked toward the door. He would be doing the right thing to talk to his brother.

~ * ~

“Peter!” Edmund shouted for his brother the moment he saw him at the end of one of the castle corridors.

“Say it, brother.” Peter smiled at her, stopping to wait for him.

“I have some doubts.” Edmund began, not knowing exactly what to say. “I, even though I'm a secondary king, have the Y/Ne rights to change laws as you, don't you?”

“You are not a secondary king.” Said the blonde, putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder. “Always had and always will have the Y/Ne authority as me.”

“So what would you say about me altering the marriage laws only with nobility and about the first born having a duty to arrange himself first?” Asked Edmund, afraid of the answer.

Peter, however, broke everything the dark haired man would expect by smiling.

“You love that commoner, don't you?” He answered with another question. Edmund, even afraid of the reaction his response would cause his brother, nodded in confirmation. “Then go after her.”

~ * ~

As soon as Y/N opened the door of her house, Edmund took her in his arms and kissed her with fervor and longing like never before.

“Edmund!” Y/N exclaimed as soon as they were separated by the lack of breath. “Why are you here?!”

Edmundo took a deep breath, still holding her, and felt the words spurt out of his mouth.

“Y/N, I have no idea how to do that, because I've never had to do this before. Actually, I'm a man, men are not creative. But if there is one thing I created in my mind, it was my future several years from now. And in every moment, I had you by my side. From the moment we met, I fell in love with you. I even convinced my brother to change the marriage laws. This is all because I love you, all because you were part of the future I imagined for myself. And you asked me to do the right thing myself, so I'm trying. What do you think of helping me with what’s right, of realizing the vision of the future I made for myself; be forever my midnight queen?” Edmund took a deep breath again before releasing the question that the possibility of a negative tormented him. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

And by the smile Y/N had opened, the answer would never be negative.

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