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bangtangalicious · 3 years

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death valley (m) | part 7

summary: welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, hoseok x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au fightclub!au

wordcount: 9.3k

warnings: reader discretion advised. multiple & explicit smut scenes, rough sex (smacking, manhandling, etc), very obsessive & possessive themes, manipulation, use of restraints (mouth), bondage (collar, leash), slight sadism kink, physical roughness, guns, heavy drug use/reference, breast play, mentions of addiction/addiction prone behaviors, unrealistic sex endurance levels (readers really out here banging), dubcon/coersive sex, reader uses humor as a coping mechanism, degradation, toxic relationships, yelling, crying, character death (or is it), oral sex, shower sex, technically cheating depending on how you look at it, daddy kink, praise, implied stalking, yoongi loves spoiling his baby girl, impreg kink if you squint, dom!yoongi (duh), dom!hoseok, dom!seokjin

a/n: i spent way too long on this HAHAHA

F L A S H B A C K--

The crowd roared as the fight came to a close. Jin stepped out of the ring reluctantly, someone handed him water while another man wrapped a towel around his shoulders. A soft ringing noise resonated through his ears, blood teasing the edges of his vision. He pushed everyone away to find his prep room. Sighing deeply, he looked down at his trembling hands. His body was on overdrive, he was getting desperate.

He placed his hands against the wall, unable to think straight with the way his heart was pounding out of his chest. He could hear the footsteps of someone stop in his doorway, not having to look to know exactly who it was.

“Do you have any coke on you?” Jin wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a towel, panting heavily, “Seriously Jimin. I’m gonna fucking lose my mind”

Jin had always been extremely unstable. It was in his personality to get aggressively addicted to things. Whenever Jin went too long without it, it was like he surrendered himself to a beast. Jimin liked to call it his maniac side.

“Can you stop thinking about getting high for one fucking second? We have a problem here” Jin hears a soft thud causing him to finally turn and look. Jimin had just dropped your unconscious body onto the hard floor.

“Well well. Who is this?” Jin crouched down and slid his fingers over your parted lips, digging his nail into the soft flesh until it began to bleed slightly. As you eyes slowly began to flutter open, a carnal desire coiled in Jin’s chest. He had never seen anyone quite like you before.

"Hi there cutie” Jin grinned, “What’s your name?” Your eyes were quivering with fear, something about your vulnerable state was so delicious to him. You glanced towards Jimin, only beginning to tremble even more.

“P..park Jimin” You gasped, “Oh my goodness! I...I love you. Wait no. I...sorry...I’m a huge fan” You rubbed your eyes. Jin’s heart trembled at your dazed expression. “Where am I? What’s going on?” He wanted to eat you alive.

Jimin joined Jin on the floor besides you “Well thank you pretty girl. It’s nice to meet you...?”

“Y/n” You introduced yourself, shaking his hand before turning to Jin, looking at him with your tempting, lustful eyes. Y/n. Jin’s head was pounding as the withdrawal began taking over him. He had never seen someone so beautiful in his life.

Jin had never found anyone else even close to catching his eye before. He would sit mindlessly on his phone while girls would be on their knees, gagging on his cock, waiting for the mind-numbing minutes until he could finally cum and leave. The prospect of a relationship, of love, it seemed otherworldly. Perhaps it wasn’t for him. He had drugs and that kept him happy. But you. You were a high he had yet to fully taste. Looking at you alone had him feeling a glow unlike any other.

“Hey” You said to him. Jin felt dizzy as you spoke, getting lost in your gaze, “You’re the fighter guy right? Jin?”

Hearing you say his name had him bucking forward, trying to hide his growing erection from the famous star who was by his side. “Yeah. Hi. Great to meet you”

Jimin got up, brushing the dust off of his pants, “I’m getting out of here” He grabbed his jacket from your arms, “Jin, please search her address and get Y/n home.” Jimin reached into his back pocket “These should make her forget” He slid a pill into your mouth and you swallowed obediently.

Jin began to break a sweat, watching the way your lips sucked in the small capsule and gulped it down it so nicely. Jimin left without another beat, leaving you in Jin’s arms, your eyes getting heavy with each passing second.

You blinked, eyes wide with uncertainty as Jin held you close. “You can take me home?”

Jin nodded, “I need to do something really quick first” He slid his hand down his pants to begin palming his erection. His vision was turning blue as his headache began to spread. “God you’re so pretty” He grabbed your jaw, ensuring that you couldn’t look anywhere but his face.

Jin felt like his mind was running miles a minute. You looked so cute and helpless. He wanted to tear you to pieces, he wanted to see you bruised and battered, splayed out for him to ravish you as he pleased.

Was it wrong? Was it wrong that he wanted to shove his cock in your mouth while you slowly lost consciousness? In the moment, nothing made more sense to him.

Your pretty lips, your sweet eyes, how could he not? Your lips trembled, eyes half lidded, rolling back slightly as you fought to stay awake.

“Oh fuck oh fuck. Don’tttt...don’t fucking look at me like that Y/n. If you look at me like that I’m gonna--gonna--ohhhh baby, fuck what are you doing to me” Jin gasped loudly as cum spilled all over his palm.

P R E S E N T D A Y--

Amongst the sweet bliss of your dreams, a current washed over you and reality had your eyes opening. Your heart felt heavy as your vision focused in on the dry walls that continued to encage you. Your body pulsed with soreness, reminding you of the previous nights events.

To say you were upset would be an understatement, but you were shocked more than anything. You had never seen Jin act so unhinged before. It was almost as though he quite literally couldn’t control himself, the thought alone bringing a bitter taste to your mouth.

Before you could decide on whether to give him a piece of your mind and reprimand his behavior, you hear him wincing with pain across the room. He lay leaned against the wall, sweat trickling down his muscles from the heat. His head tilted back in a soft groan, dark hair now extremely tangled and messy.

“Are you okay?” You got up with a start. Jin exhaled before shaking his head in defeat.

“No, my leg still really fucking hurts. I feel like absolute shit right now” He punched the side of his fist into the ground in frustration. “I feel like I’m going insane”

You couldn’t even begin to imagine his pain. At least you got to leave the cell for some time, he had been here all along. Alone. Wounded. It was just awful. Yoongi should have had the courtesy to take him to the hospital, but then again did Yoongi even have a courteous bone in his body? You were no longer sure.

“It just sucks too because I’m trapped here, helpless, and all I can fucking do is feel this pain” Jin's jaw clenched. "And I’m sorry for last night I just...you were just there, so close. I just couldn’t help it. I could finally forget the pain even if it was just for a moment”

“It’s okay, I understand” You knew that feeling far too well. Jin reached his arms out to you, pulling you to sit next to him. His hands trailed down your thighs as he looked at you intently. “You know, I don’t mind...if it helps distract you from the pain. We can” You cleared your throat nervously, heat rising to your cheeks, “I mean, just tell me what you need”

Jin’s eyes widened with surprise. “Really?” He asks, gulping, “You don’t have to”

“I want to Jin. Let me help. I’m half the reason you’re in this mess” You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. Jin was extremely handsome, you had noticed that from the moment you saw him in the arena. With a body like that, your heart skipped a beat at what all he might have in store for you.

His fingers slid between your legs, making you gasp softly. He tickled your clothed cunt softly. He flattened his fingers, teasing your entrance before moving to your clit. Licking his lips, he sucked lightly on your ear. Your hips bucked up as a ticklish sensation shot through your body. You felt wet.

And you knew he could feel it too, as he drew his fingers away. “Can I?” He mumbled into your neck. You nodded, flustered and warm all over as he pushed your panties aside and began drawing light circles on your clit. You twitch at the sensations hitting your nerves. His other hand cupped your jaw tightly, turning your face towards him.

“Oh fuckk, Jin that feels so good” You didn’t know why you felt so horny, whether it was the morning or the temporary relief from reality. Jin carefully slid one finger into your cunt, just barely, his delicate movements sending shocks of pleasure through your tired body.

Your pussy clenched down on his finger, and he growled. Pulling out, he popped the finger into his mouth before sighing, “Can I tell you what I want?” You could hear a slight tremble in his voice, “Will you do anything for me?”

You choked on your own breath, nodding dumbly as Jin’s gaze flashed with desire. “Get on all fours over me. Wanna spank that pretty ass”

Jin was taken aback at your willingness. You obeyed so well, his hands kneaded your tender flesh, enjoying the view of your ass sticking out for him. You winced as you felt his palm smack against you hard, making your knees tremble with pain and pleasure.

That’s for sleeping with Jungkook. He smacked again, with full force. He knew it stung. He could hear the pain in your pathetic whimpers and he loved it. And Hobi. Smack. And Jimin. Smack. You cried out as the impact caused you to fall forward onto your chest. And Yoongi.

Your ass was flushed, as he tenderly rubbed over the bruises he had so generously given you. He leaned forward, letting his tongue glide over the soreness before playfully biting down.

“Jin...that hurts” He ignored you, proceeded to slide down his pants, his turgid length already incredibly hard. He tugged at his cock quickly, the sounds of his slippery pre-cum barely noticeable under your soft moans.

“Sit on my cock. Nice and easy, lean back on me” His cock twitched as you turned your head to look back at him briefly, your eyes glossy from the pain, but full of curiosity nevertheless. You crawled back over him to line his cock with your soaking cunt. Jin grabbed your hips, helping ease you down onto his length.

“Ah...ah...” His size stretched you out, pussy swallowing him in. You cursed, eyes rolling back. He wanted to see your face, see how fucked out you would look as he gave it to you so good.

“Quiet, he might hear us.” He carefully tugged off his shirt from your body with your help, then used it to cover your mouth. He pulled the knot tight, the fabric tugging at the sides of your mouth uncomfortably.

His hands stroked over your bare chest quietly, humming in approval, “That’s a good girl...gonna be all quiet for me now right?” His cock twitched inside of you as he heard your muffled voice. His fingers weaved through your hair before he clenched his fist, making you wince. He pulled your head back as he thrusted up into your soaking cunt “Hear that? You’re loving this aren’t you, you fucking whore”

He grabbed your neck, holding it in a tight grip as he pounded up into you. He no longer cared if he was being too loud, he moaned at the top of his lungs. You felt so good. Your pussy welcomed his cock like it was meant to be there, so slippery and warm for him to just fuck over and over and over again.

He couldn’t hear you softly plead for him to let you breathe over the sounds of his own cursing. He didn’t care. If you passed out, you deserved to. Your body was his for the taking, it had to learn. You said yourself you would do what he wanted. He needed this. It was the least you could do for all the trouble he’d been through for you.

He let your neck go, and as you gasped for a saving breath, he felt your walls leak all over him. Your muffled cries sounding like music to his ears. Your whole body was shaking from pleasure.

His gaze fell onto your back, sinking his teeth onto your scars. You winced loudly as he marked you, his knife wound from the previous night still stinging and tender with pain.

Grabbing your head again, he pushed your face down onto the ground. You thrusted your hips helplessly, feeling your orgasm approaching as the cold floor pressed painfully against your nose.

“Wait..wait...I’m so close” Your words were intangible through the cloth. You were humping down on him so desperately he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. There, in front of him with your ass bouncing from how feverishly you wanted to cum all over his cock, he was in heaven.

Jin felt your heat melt as you came, screaming in ecstasy against the restraint. You limply relaxed onto the floor as Jin continued to thrust up into you, holding your hips down tightly to dig deeper and deeper into your messy, dripping cunt.

Jin felt like his whole body would explode in pleasure. This was the peak. His life couldn’t get any better than this moment where he had you just like he dreamed. He wondered if it would always feel this good. Of course it would. It was you after all.

Your core clenched as the stimulation became too much. He looked into your eyes and could see the streams of tears staining your cute cheeks. It was that look. That pleading look that was begging him to stop. Jin came with a loud cry, tilting his head back as he smacked your locker back one final time.

Breathing heavily, he lifted you off of him, watching his seed leak out of you. You laid down onto your side, absolutely spent. He slid down to lay behind you, hugging you to him as he undid the mouth wrap with his teeth. He stroked your body tenderly, hands finding your breasts.

“Holy shit” You coughed, finally able to breathe air directly. “Officer Kim Seokjin, that was...wow”

Jin didn’t respond, he simply smiled, pinching your nipples causing you to squirm. That was nothing baby.

Taehyung hated being wrong. He hated not knowing and not having control of any situation. So when Yoongi was shaking his head, denying that he had caused all the recent chaos that had been keeping Taehyung up at night, he felt like he was going to tear the entire bar apart, floorboard by floorboard.

“Y/n had mentioned she was kidnapped. I didn’t hear about it from you so I figured it must have been Jimin, and that you made sure she didn’t really get hurt. It ended up with her opening up to me, so I wasn’t really too mad about it” Yoongi said calmly, sipping his drink.

“From the footage it looked like Namjoon and Y/n took the pills and blacked out. Hobi was drunk too, but when he sobered up he had gotten a call to take them to the warehouse. I figured you had told him to do that.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, “Why the fuck would I want to kidnap and beat up Namjoon? I need him healthy to fight. Don’t be such an idiot Kim"

“It wasn’t just that though. Jimin’s accident happened right after I sent you the video. I figured you were jealous”

Setting his glass down, Yoongi swiveled in his stool to light a cigar before leaning back casually “The video of Y/n and Jimin fucking? Please, I don’t give a shit”

“Well, then I told you that Jungkook showed her the lab and gave her literal heroin so I imagine you weren’t happy about that”

The smoke dissipated slowly from his lips. Taehyung frowned at the scent. “I wasn’t. But still, I didn’t stab him. I was with Y/n, taking care of her because I love her.”

Taehyung clenched his fists. He did not want to hear Yoongi go on and on about how much he loved you, he did not care. He wanted to know who was messing with his plans. Taehyung had things to do. He had operations in play. He couldn’t afford any mistakes.

“Is that all? Jimin’s album is coming out tomorrow so I need to get some rest” Yoongi scoffed suddenly, “Especially now that Jimin’s gone ahead and brought Y/n into the media’s eye. What a fucking idiot”

“How are you planning on dealing with him? Are you gonna kill him?”

Yoongi laughed. “Taehyung. Seriously. What is up with you these days? If I wanted Jimin dead he would be dead dumbass.” Yoongi clicked his tongue, “Like I said before, I’m not worried about her and Jimin. She hates him. I know she does.”

Taehyung was not expecting that at all. Not from Yoongi. He had seen Yoongi wrench out people’s teeth if they didn’t pay him. He had seen Yoongi shoot innocent people, not even noticing when Taehyung had to turn around and puke his guts out because of it. But looking at the powerful man besides him now, he could barely recognize him.

“Just find out who was giving Hobi those orders and kill them. I don’t care who it is, just kill them. I don’t even want to know. I don’t have time for this”

Taehyung pursed his lips, “Yoongi, you know that Jimin does really like Y/n too, right? Like, he might be falling in love with her.” Yoongi gave him a look indicating that he was not taking him seriously, “I’m serious! I’ve never seen him like this and I’m surprised you aren’t more worried”

“Taehyung. Do you think I’m dumb?” Yoongi’s expression shifted to one of annoyance, “I knew what I was doing when I offered her an internship. I knew what I was doing when I signed Jimin on, knowing full well how much of a fan she is. Of course I knew she would pursue him. I needed her to see for herself, what a bratty piece of shit that man is. I knew she would hate him Taehyung, killing him would mean she might still care. She might still have feelings for him. That’s not what I need. She can only love me. I have to show her I’m better than him”

Yoongi took another puff of his cigar before continuing, “Now, I’ll admit things got fucked up when fucking Namjoon kept on bringing her to Death Valley. Idiot doesn’t take a fucking hint.”

Taehyung gulped down the rest of his drink before slamming the glass on the bar top. “Another please” He waved to the bartender. “I can take Jin off your hands now. He’s seen your face, but he might know stuff so it could be good to keep him alive” Yoongi simply shrugged, setting his cigar aside.

“I don’t care what you do with him. I want her alone tomorrow. I’m coming clean”

The next morning, Yoongi brought Taehyung back to the apartment. Taehyung lifted Jin out of the cell and claimed to be taking him to a clinic. After they left, it was just you and Yoongi.

Yoongi crouched down and extended a hand to you, not wanting to come too close. He knew you were upset with him. He could feel it.

“Morning my love” His voice was songlike, eyes pleading as he looked at you, an absolute mess on the floor, like you were his whole world. “Come on, let me run you a bath. I’m sorry”

You knew if you looked at him for too long you wouldn’t be able to resist. But after everything you had just heard, you wanted to just be alone.

“I’ll explain everything. I promise, I don’t want any lies between us” Reluctantly, you took his hand and he pulled you up into a hug. You teared up at his embrace. You could feel the simple adoration through his touch. You could have just melted into his arms.

Leading you out of the cell, he sat you down in the kitchen while he went to draw a hot bath for you. “Will you be joining me?” You asked him dryly, attempting to put up some attitude in whatever way you could.

To your surprise he shook his head, “No. I’ll wait till you’re done. Enjoy yourself” You frowned slightly, knowing a part of you didn’t want to hear the answer. “If you need anything just call for me okay?” He took your hands in his, kissing them gently. “After, I want to give you something. I’ve put some clothes for you on the dresser inside”

“Wait” You gasped, taking in his presence fully. “I’m sorry a...about Jimin and the media”

Yoongi shook his head, “It’s not your fault. It’s like you said, he’s just a typical rockstar” The two of your shared a small laugh. You realized then how rarely you had ever seen Yoongi smile. It was a beautiful smile, and you hoped to see it again.

You stepped into Yoongi’s bathroom. It wasn’t very large, but it was very high tech. A modern tub lay with soft white suds dancing over it. You grinned inwardly as you saw how he had laid out a blunt and a lighter for you. The water smelt of lavender, and was just the right temperature as you stripped down and slid in. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply while appreciating the moment of peace. The eye of the storm. Inside you knew that this might be the only break you would get. Jimin’s album was coming out tomorrow. You had no idea what to expect.

“Yoongi” You called out, tilting your head back and sinking into the tub deeper.

He appeared rapidly, not really reacting to your undressed state as he knelt down by the tub, “Everything okay?”

“Stay here” You moved your arm out of the water, soap dripping onto the tiled floor as you tilted Yoongi’s cheek towards you and kissed him deeply. “Join me” You gasped into his mouth, “Please”

Yoongi kept his lips on yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He missed kissing you so much. Not having you the past night had been incredibly hard for him. “No love. I need you to relax. I’m about to tell you some things today and...you might be scared.”

You whined against him, pulling him closer to you while he did little to resist, “But I want you” You pouted.

Yoongi rolled his eyes with a soft smirk, “I want you too love. Don’t stay in there too long okay. Then get dressed and I’ll be in the kitchen” With one final kiss on your lips, he backed away from you, and you slid back into the warm water.

Yoongi had set out a cute little sundress for you, one that was scandalously sheer, but nevertheless cute. The dress felt blissfully light on your body, a slight breeze fluttering up your skirt as you spun around in front of a large mirror.

You felt sexy, but most of all you felt free. You sighed heavily as you made your way to the kitchen, twirling around playfully before falling back into Yoongi’s embrace.

“Hey” You got on your tippy toes to allow Yoongi to plant a kiss on your lips from behind you, smiling into one another. There was that smile again. It made your heart melt like butter.

He wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck, “Fuck love you smell so good. You look so good.” You giggled as you felt his erection press up on your ass “How can I control myself...” His words were breathless as his hands trailed down to the hem of your dress, lifting it lightly to reveal the frilly lingerie he had bought for you. He cursed under his breath, pulling your ass back against him.

“Ah ah! You said you were gonna give me something” You teased, getting your payback for earlier. Yoongi nodded, reaching into the drawer to bring out a box. He slid it onto the kitchen counter “Is this for me?” He nods as you excitedly open the box. In it is a pistol, with gold accents and your initials engraved onto the side with what looked like diamonds. Beneath the device was a magazine of matching color. You looked at Yoongi with shock.

“I had it made just for you. Do you like it?” His hands covered yours as he guided you to take the gun into your hands and load the magazine into it. “I hope you never have to use it. But I needed you to have something to protect yourself” He turned and pulled your wrists to aim the barrel against his heart. “You could even kill me if you wanted to”

You were at a loss for words, but Yoongi continued, keeping the gun in your hand aimed at himself “I’m not a good guy Y/n. I’m dangerous. That’s why I had Taehyung take you out of Death Valley that night and had to throw you into that cell.” He gave you so space backing away. You felt bad, knowing that he must be feeling anxious to reveal himself to you, despite you knowing exactly what he was going to say.

You tried to give him a comforting look, unable to move your hands from his steady grip, “I’m a gangster.”

He waited for you to react. You weren’t sure what to do, so you just parted your lips in feigned shock. Wow! No way! Really! You felt like laughing, but his gaze was so serious you stopped yourself.

"I have a drug syndicate. At Death Valley. The money I make from that I use to gamble. That’s why we have the fights. I have boys trained and bet money on them. We make millions through that but really it’s just power plays” He looks away from you momentarily, “Anyways, no one knows that I, Min Yoongi, am the one running things there, but still I have a lot of enemies. A lot of people would love to see me dead. To see me lose.”

“Since you’re my partner, you are a liability. I need you to be safe. Normally I’ll have someone from the gang accompany you wherever you go. You won’t know who it is so don’t worry about it, it’s just in case anything happens”

Partner? Since when? You frowned slightly at the label. Then again, this guy did carve his name into your skin. Maybe that was how big scary gangsters asked girls out these days, who were you to judge.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me okay” Yoongi finally took the gun from you and set it aside, “Me giving you this means I trust you. With my secret and my life.”

You began to feel flustered. You hadn’t even thought about what it would mean to actually date or be associated with a gang member, let alone a kingpin. Now the media thought you were dating Jimin, who was also conveniently high up in all this.

“I know it’s a lot” Yoongi said. “You can always ask me if you have questions. Now let’s get to work okay. Big day coming, I need my your expert opinion by my side”

The low growl of the engine was the only sound to be heard as Taehyung drove Jin to his own home. The world came still as he parked the car. Sighing heavily, he checked his radar before exiting the car, lifting Jin.

“You think you can stand buddy?” Jin nodded, and Taehyung slowly helped him find steady ground. He held Jin up, assisting him as they walked in through the back entrance to his basement.

A single lightbulb illuminated just enough for Taehyung and Jin to see each other’’s faces. Nothing more, nothing less. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he placed Jin into a chair.

“So it’s this Yoongi guy huh” Jin remarked. “And surprise surprise...you’re his little bitch too. Do your lips hurt from all the ass you have to kiss?”

“Oh please, Yoongi can go to hell for all I care.” Taehyung chuckled, surveying an array of knives that were displayed on the wall before his eyes settled on a small blade, curved ever so slightly. “I do need you to keep your mouth shut about me to Jimin though. If it weren’t for me, Yoongi would have let you rot in there”

Jin tilted his head, a small smile growing on his face as he understood the implications of Taehyung’s words, “I see. You’re plotting against both of them huh?”

“What’s I’m plotting is none of your goddamn business, Officer. So tell me, what’s it gonna take to keep you quiet hm? Money? More coke?”

“You know, I might be able to help you. You’re playing a dangerous game Taehyung. I know what you’re doing and I know how you plan on doing it. You’re using Y/n as bait. You’re using her to pin Jimin against Yoongi so you can sweep in and take over.”

Taehyung froze. First he smiled, then burst out into giggles before full on laughing. “It’s that obvious huh? Fine, hypothetically let’s say we work together. What’s in it for you?”

Jin licked his lips, “All I ask, is that when the dust settles, Y/n is mine. I know things Taehyung. I’m a cop after all”

Taehyung rolled his eyes and sighed, “Is that it?”

“And I get to kill them. My way”

Taehyung took a moment to think. “Okay Officer. You might just have yourself a deal.”

The clicking of the keyboard resonated through Yoongi’s office that was all but quiet as the chaos of an upcoming release had taken the whole building by storm.

He had you sitting on his thigh, hands around his neck as he would run final details by you. But with the way he would occasionally tap his foot, causing his leg to vibrate underneath you, you couldn’t help craving him more and more with each passing minute.

He wouldn’t react as you nibbled his ear, placed kisses on his neck. You sighed loudly, sexual frustration building up within you. Finally you slid down a strap of your dress, letting it, along with your bra, glide down your breast. You tried to pull his chin towards you but he was too caught up in reading the emails he had gotten.

You really did respect the guy. For whatever he is, he took his work...of all kinds...very seriously. That itself turned you on. “Yoongi” You cooed at him, causing him to hum slightly.

“Yes love?” He muttered, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Look” He finally surrendered to you, allowing you to turn his chin to see your perky breast in his line of vision. He was surprised, looking at you briefly before placing his mouth over you and suckling you roughly.

You bit your lip, his tongue felt hot as he rolled it around your nipples. He took his time, lapping away at you, digging his teeth and gliding his wet lips over the perked bud.

You buried your face into his soft black hair, his musky scent overwhelming you. Stuttering his name from your lips as he continued to suck your tit harshly, his hands trailed up your bare legs under the skirt of your dress to tug at the waistline of your panties. He let his fingers glide beneath the soft lace, teasing you.

Yoongi gave your breast a final sloppy kiss, before he let go with a pop, looking up at your fucked out face. He chuckled, bringing one hand to slide down your other strap and then tenderly squeezing your other breast. He rolled the tip between his fingers before placing his mouth of it.

Heat was coiling in your chest, soft whines leaving your parted lips. You moved from his thigh to straddle his waist, rolling your hips against his growing bulge. The friction shot pleasure through your core, making you leak with desire.

You were sure Yoongi could feel how wet you were. Nevertheless his focus remained on ravishing your breast. He left chaste kisses on your eager nub, nipping away as his mouth tenderly sucked, making sure to give it as much attention as the other.

His kisses then trailed between your breasts, traveling up to your neck where they became rougher. His movements tickled you, making you squirm as he kissed beneath your jaw, tilting your face back.

“Mmm that’s enough love, we can’t here” He mumbled. You groaned in complaint, panting with frustration as Yoongi’s lips left your skin and his hands pulled your straps back onto your shoulders. “I booked us a room somewhere special for a few days because our bedroom is still fucked up from the other night. We can have each other there, I promise, okay love?”

Yoongi was a man of taste. Being in the rock industry, he was used to things being grunge and edgy, but personally he always had a soft spot for excellence. That’s why, while maintaining the all black getup, he would dress in silk shirts, pure silver jewelry and diamond studded jackets.

He had picked a hotel not too far from the label, but one of the finest places in miles around. It was the same venue that would be the site of Jimin’s album release event the following night. Yoongi had booked out the largest suite in the building, wanting to show you the best night of your life.

And you had a feeling it would be, as you walked in to the large room, lit with purple LED undertones that complemented the fading sunset that was gleaming in through the expansive glass wall. On the bed was a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.

“Holy shit” You mumbled, wandering around as Yoongi directed the bellboys to bring in the luggage. Yoongi insisted he would take care of all your needs when packing. He claimed to have someone go back to your apartment and grab some of your essential items, but also insisted in buying you new things. You had to admit, gangster or not, Yoongi really knew how to spoil a girl.

You leaned against the glass, peering out at the skyline, a bright coral pink even still. Yoongi came up besides you, tilting your face towards him to kiss you fondly.

“Can I pour you a drink love?” He sighed into your mouth. You nodded, watching as Yoongi pulled the champagne out of the bucket, popping the cork and pouring two glasses with ease. He hands you one, clinking his own against yours. You took a few sips, savoring the slightly sour bubbly liquid before setting your glass aside. Yoongi pulled you towards him by the waist.

“This is all amazing Yoongi” You wrapped your arms around his neck. He caressed your hips, swaying you against him almost as though you were slow dancing. After a quick peck to the lips he spoke again,

“I’ve been thinking about the future. How would you like to work for me full time? As a junior producer?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “I...wow, I would love that, that would be the dream” Yoongi smiled, gliding his lips over your cheek, behind your ear where he began to leave small wet kisses. His hands trailed up your sides and he hooked his fingers under the strap of your dress, tugging it so the garment slid seamlessly off your body and onto a pile on the floor.

“Shit” Yoongi bit his lip, eying you up and down in your angelic lingerie. “Just missing one thing” You pouted as he stepped away from you, walking over to a cabinet to pull a studded black collar and leash from the drawer.

He wrapped the collar around your neck carefully, adjusting the strap so that it was nice and tight. He admired the way it looked against your skin, tracing and tugging on it with his fingers.

“Beautiful.” Taking the leash in his hand, he gently pushed you down onto your knees, stroking your cheek as you looked up at him eagerly. “You know what to do” He blew a kiss at you teasingly.

You began to unbutton his pants, sliding them down along with his boxers. Licking you lips, you took his length into your hands, stroking him slowly, looking up for his validation.

He groaned at your touch “Look at you hm?” His fingers harshly ran along your jaw, pulling playfully at your bottom lip “So fucking pretty”

He tugged your lip forward, prompting you to get your mouth on his cock, his other hand holding himself steady against the wall. You wrapped your lips around the tip, letting you tongue circle around.

Your breath hitched as Yoongi suddenly tugged at your leash, forcing his cock down your throat. You gagged immediately, but he kept your face pulled forward.

You flattened your tongue, allowing Yoongi to thrust himself against the slippery sensation. His cock filled your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe. You could taste the sour pre-cum against the rigid veins all over his girthy length.

He loved the way you took him, so messy. You slobbered all over his cock, the sounds of you choking and coughing like music to his ears. Your lips were swollen and fucked out, eyes bulging as you desperately tried to maintain yourself. Tears built at the corned of your eyes making him buck his hips. You were his. Like he had always wanted. He finally owned you.

You felt his cum shoot straight down your throat, causing you to gasp in desperation, cheeks hollowing enough to allow him to push even further down your throat. Once you surrendered to swallow, Yoongi pulled out, a mixture of cum and saliva dripping all over your face.

“Bend over, hands on the wall” He ordered through gritted teeth. He lined himself up behind you, sneaking a finger deep into your heat, relishing in the wet pool of your arousal and how you leaked out all over his palm. He pushed another finger in, pumping you furiously before his eyes narrowed in on your back.

You felt his fingers fall out, causing you to whine. A sudden tug of the leash pulled you back into his chest.

“What is this?” He growled, a finger gliding over the knife scar through his name on your back. You stuttered, the collar knocking the breath out of you. “Who did this?” He dug his nails into you making you wince.

“W..what are you talking about?” Yoongi turned you around and slapped you hard.

“You know what I’m talking about. Who marked you? Who fucking dared?” He was yelling loudly despite being so close to your face. You tried to turn away but he wouldn’t let you.

“I...” You gulp. If you told Yoongi it was Jin, he would definitely go kill him. You needed Jin to be alive, in fact you were hardly even sure if he was anymore. A part of you knew Taehyung wouldn’t actually kill him. He didn’t deserve to die, not for something like this. “I don’t know”

Yoongi glared at you, the fire in his eyes evident. He dragged you relentlessly to the bed, taking the leash and using it to tie your arms to your chest.

“You wanna play fucking games huh?” Yoongi screamed. You trembled, his demeanor beginning to scare you, “I’ll show you. I’ll fucking show you what happens when you hide something from me. You’re staying like this, locked in here until you decide to tell me the truth you got that?”

Tears were already streaking down your face as you nodded. Yoongi scowled at you before climbing in the other side of the bed and turning off the lights.

Hobi arrived at the banquet hall. Preparations were already being made. The hustle of his coworkers preparing for the album release press conference and the subsequent celebration.

A few people greeted him, but looking around he noticed an absence of a certain energy. Jimin was sitting on the stage, reading over his answer sheets while his make-up artists poked at his face.

Hobi didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about what he had done to Jimin. He never liked the guy, despite having to put up a cordial face around him. It was tough for him to help Jimin put songs together when he just wanted to wrench his guts out and put a bullet through his head.

He tried avoiding the star when he could, but Jimin sought him out “Hey Hobi c’mere” Jimin snapped his fingers, pushing away the people surrounding him. Hobi took a deep breath before approaching him.

“Have you seen Y/n?”

Hobi raised his eyebrows. He at first had not been sure if you would have actually been killed or not after Jin’s little stunt the other night. It was a relief to him when he saw you appear in the news at Jimin’s side, but he was confused.

“I figured she was here already. Maybe she’s with Yoongi” Jimin rolled his eyes, “That motherfucker, honestly. Did you know those two were hanging out because I fucking didn’t” Jimin hissed. “He branded her. Apparently they got really high, she said it was an accident but I dunno that’s a bit much even for Yoongi. You should have seen how pissed off he was”

“Hanging out?” Hobi asked curiously, “Y/n and Yoongi?” He felt his stomach flip uncomfortably. “Yoongi never hangs out with employees, let alone interns”

Jimin shrugged, “Can’t blame him honestly. She’s a temptress. I’ve slept with her a bunch of times and it just keeps getting better and better”

Hobi did everything in his power not to slug Jimin in his face, out of respect to the make up artists who had spent so long trying to make this bastard look presentable. “I know”

“You do?” Jimin grinned, “Right...you who almost dated for half a second there. Then Yoongi and his fucking rules came and blew it all up” Jimin playfully pushed Hobi’s shoulder, “Man. You gotta just claim what’s yours and say fuck em. Next time. She’s mine now though, sorry”

Hobi rolled his eyes, knowing full well that you loathed Jimin. Nevertheless, the spoilt brat had a point. When the fuck did Yoongi hang out with Y/n? It didn’t make sense.

Turning to one of the overseeing secretaries, Hobi questioned which room Yoongi was staying, intending to pay him a quick visit. The secretary gave him the room number, warning him that Yoongi had mentioned he might be unavailable in the morning as he had a few errands to run.

Hobi wandered through the hotel, heading to the elevator to arrive at the top floor with all the suites. When he arrived at the door, he noticed the sign on the handle with raised eyebrows. Nevertheless he knocked “Yoongi! It’s me? Can we chat for a bit?”

“Hobi! Oh my God Hobi help me! Get me out of here!” Goosebumps appeared all over him as your shrill voice leaked through the door, “I can’t move please”

His hands were trembling. What the hell was going on? He budged at the door but it was locked. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his gun, taking the handle and using it to knock of the handle. He pushed through the door, swallowing thickly as he saw you, leash hooked up to the bed frame, hands tied, in such a sexy little lingerie set his heart felt like exploding then and there.

“What the fuck?” Hobi rushed over to you, untying you from your restraints and clicking off the collar. Your hands went to your neck, soothing the red marks that had appeared due to the tight hold. “Yoongi did this?”

You nodded “He was punishing me. He was gonna keep me locked in here” You wanted to cry but you couldn’t even find it within yourself. Hobi noticed how defeated you looked. He hated seeing you like this.

“Why?”

You looked into his eyes, sighing at the true ignorance. Hobi knew so little about everything you had been through, you didn’t have the heart to place the burden onto him.

“Can we just get out of here? Please? I need a fucking drink” He nodded, rubbing the pads of his fingers softly over the imprints of the tight bands on your arms. “Let me get changed. That motherfucker was gonna make me miss my first album release party,” You scoffed, laughing bitterly as you stood up, “I’ll fucking show him. I’m gonna look hot as fuck and I’m gonna be all over Jimin tonight”

Hobi blinked at you in amusement but said nothing as you marched off into the bathroom.

“Come on” You called back to him, curling your finger to motion him towards you teasingly “Are you really gonna pass up the chance to fuck me in the shower?”

“Damn, you’re really something” Hobi mumbled, unable to hide the blush that grew on his cheeks.

You didn’t bother taking off your underwear, you could see how turned on Hobi was from seeing you just by the gleam in his eye. You playfully bounced into the shower, turning the water cold. The white lace on your body dampened, making the coverage practically negligible.

Hobi almost choked seeing you. You tilted your head back and let the water fall directly on your breasts. You could hear the click of his buckled as he undressed himself quickly to join you.

“Shit this is cold” Hobi touched the water before sliding into the glass cube behind you. You turned around to face him, smiling mischievously. “Can daddy clean me up?” You pouted at him, winking. Hobi rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Y/n” Hobi pulled your hips forward before lifting you into his arms, “You’re such a slut for me aren’t you? All you fucking want is daddy’s big cock is that it?”

You nodded rapidly. “Yeah. Want your cock” You slid your hand down his chest, biting your lip.

“Of course you do baby” He pressed your back against the glass, the ice cold water hitting his back as he rolled his hips into you. His hand snaked around beneath you to push aside your soaked panties and touch your throbbing clit. “Look at me baby. Does that feel good?” He began to rub small circles, watching the way your body responded to him.

“Y...yes” You groaned, burying your face into his wet hair, nails digging into his back as you held on tight. Hobi grunted, gliding his finger back to trace along your folds.

“So fucking needy baby. No one fucks you as good as I do huh?” Hobi’s hot breath tickled your ear. “You missed me didn’t you, you slut. Only I know how you really like it” He pushed one finger in “Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, a sobbing mess of moans muffling into his neck as he rapidly pumped his finger into you, “Yes” You exhaled, “Want Daddy. Only want Daddy”

“I know. Oh, you poor little thing” He shoved another finger in, making you mewl as he stretched you out, “Do you think about me huh? When Jimin’s ramming his cock into do you think about me?” Your pussy clenched down at his words, “Did you fuck Yoongi too? Our boss, god you are such a little whore aren’t you?”

He slid in a third finger and you began to scream out in pleasure, “Oh fuck Hobi yes, right there right there” You panted heavily, “More...please” The mention of Yoongi’s name had you leaking all over.

The thought that he could just come back in at any moment had you falling apart. He would look so fucking angry. He would probably kill Hobi on the spot.

Why did that turn you on so much?

Heat pulsed through your body. Hobi slid his fingers out, spanking your pussy before sliding you down onto your feet.

“I missed you” Hobi said weakly. Your eyes softened. You knew you were taking advantage of him. You knew your heart was really elsewhere, as much as you wished it wasn’t.

“Kiss me” You didn’t want to think, you cupped his face bringing it to yours and pressing your lips against his. You poured yourself into the kiss, the roll of your hips matching the way your lips wrestled one another.

Hobi deepened the kiss, pining your wrists above your head. He gasped as he pulled away, staring darkly into your eyes, “Do you want Daddy’s big cock?” You nodded, his lips barely inched from yours “Yeah? Want Daddy to fuck you good? Fill you up with his cum? Fuck his babies into you huh? You want that?”

He turned you around, hand gripping under your thigh to prop your leg up onto the sliding shower door handle. You winced at the stretch but Hobi didn’t react. You feel him slap his hot cockhead against your ass. Holding your hips steady, he slid his cock into you easily. Your slick inviting him in deep into your throbbing heat. You whimpered as his dick pushed through your walls, filling you to the brim.

“Good girl” He growled, “Such a good warm little pussy for daddy, such a good fucking girl oh goddd” He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in. His pace was excruciatingly slow, but the burn of him pumping you in and out felt so good.

“Fuck I’m close Daddy” You were practically drooling, lips parted in pure bliss as Hobi fucked you deeper and deeper, your head slamming against the glass. “Want you to fill me up daddy. Want your cum” You whined.

“You feel so fucking good baby. Go ahead and cum,” Hobi kissed you again “Cum for Daddy, come on” He quickened his pace as he felt your tight walls begin to twitch around his cock. He could hear your wetness as he pistons into you under your breathless screams.

“I’m gonna cum Daddy..I..I..” Your eyes were clenched close as you let out a high pitched scream, your hot arousal dripping all over Hobi’s cock as your walls squeezed him tight. He bucked his hips as you came, groaning as he tried to fuck you through it.

“Shit.” Hobi cursed under his breath as he felt himself come undone immediately after, his sticky cum shooting deep inside of you. “God that was so good” He sighed, landing a lazy kiss on your lips.

You sighed, savoring the small aftershocks of arousal that had you trembling in his embrace. Enjoying the final momentary pleasure before the wild night ahead of you.

Jimin stood outside the banquet hall and tightened his tie. There were only a few more minutes until his album officially came out. Fixing loose strands of his hair, he sighed. He wanted you by his side but you were no where to be seen.

“Jiminnnn” The pitch of your voice gave you away easily. Jimin glowed in anticipation of you. His heart stopped as you arose from the hallway. You looked absolutely stunning in a classy sleeveless pantsuit.

“Baby” You giggled. Jimin frowned slightly, noticing how you stumbled into his arms before giving you a peck on the lips. “Are you excitedddd?” You slurred your words. “Everyone’s gonna loveeeee your music”

He inhaled your scent, scrunching his nose as he recognized the stench of whiskey on your breath. “Baby. You’re drunk”

“Come onnnnn, everyone is waiting for you at the party” You tugged at his tie. Jimin sighed, he couldn’t help but surrender to your cuteness despite his gut telling him not to bring you there.

“Jimin...this is my dream.” You giggled, almost losing your balance before Jimin caught you into his arms. “I’m Park Jimin’s girlfriendddd” Jimin dragged you outside slowly, sheepishly bowing to the other people who began giving the pair of you dirty looks. “Hey!” You yelled suddenly, “I’m Park Jimin’s girlfriend! I love him!”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. “You...what?” He began trembling, an overwhelming flush of emotions seizing him. “Really?”

You nodded, a big teethy smile on your face. Jimin blushed. “I...” She’s just drunk. He sighed. “Come on baby” He wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you down to the banquet hall.

The venue was gorgeous. It had a red and black theme that matched Jimin’s album cover. Champagne was being served at every nook and corner. The room broke out into applause as Jimin walked in, you glued to his side.

Jimin’s eyes scanned the room looking for Yoongi. He was no where to be seen.

Jimin waved to his guests, thanking them for the cheer before he turned to you. He stroked your face, gazing into your glittering eyes with nothing but adoration. He felt his eyes tear up as the thought occured to him that maybe it really was you.

He had written so many baseless love songs, songs about yearning, song about searching for someone to make his life worth it again. Maybe it was you. Were you his happy ending?

His mind wandered to what could be. What might be if he marries you, you go on tour together, making love in every city over the world. You would be his biggest fan, his lifeline, and he would love you endlessly. He wanted that. So bad. Did you?

He twirled you around before dipping you down princess style and kissing you passionately. The room burst into cheers as you smiled into one another.

“Sir” One of the staff members tapped on Jimin’s shoulder urgently, “Sorry to interrupt, there’s something you should know” The staff member leaned in to whisper something into Jimin’s ear. You watched as his eyes went wide with shock.

“I...I need to go. Excuse me” Jimin pardoned himself from the crowd, rushing out of the banquet hall. You followed him.

“Jimin! What is it? What happened?” You held onto his arm.

“He’s dead” Jimin muttered, “Fuck. SHIT. He’s dead”

Your heart dropped. “Who...?”

“Taehyung. Taehyung is dead”

ᐊ——[ previous ] series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ

a/n: i hope this makes up for how shitty part 6 was ahahaha. gosh i must have rewritten this like 4 times. but yeah drop those theories in my asks bbs <3 who killed tae? where’s yoongi? what’s jin up to? joon and kook will be back in action in part 8, next week dw ;)

also that detail abt jin not listing you fucking taehyung when he’s spanking you is intentional

taglist: @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees @kooookie @queenmasterxx @crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra @un2-verse @winter-melontea @equivocacies @infernal-alpaca @shrimpmsg @meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii @liltangerined @littlrmills14-blog @issysor @arandomblackgirl @adoringinsanity @giadalin @jeontier @kaithezaftig @jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi @happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs @kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx

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shootybangbang · 3 years

Note

Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺

(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)

[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot

[Rating]: Explicit

[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism

———

“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”

With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.

His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.

“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”

“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”

Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.

“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Immensely.”

“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.

“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.

He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.

You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.

“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”

You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.

The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”

Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.

Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.

“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”

“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”

His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.

“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.

He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.

You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.

His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.

When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”

You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.

“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”

You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”

“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.

Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”

“Too much?”

“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.

You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”

The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.

Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”

He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.

“What— how did you…?”

“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”

“But I double-checked this time!”

“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.

“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”

You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”

He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.

Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.

And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.

Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.

Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.

Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”

“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.

Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”

When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.

As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”

He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption #fic #smut #my work #this makes my kinks so apparent that i want to crawl into a hole and die #sorry for being gross :’^)

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its-afucking-mess · 3 years

Text

Knots with Promises - Damiano x fem!reader smut

im back bitches

This month has been the worst one of your life. Work was becoming more insufferable, your sister keeps running up your bank account, and your landlord threatens to kick you out. Damiano wants to help, but not just with paying the rent.

(requested by anon!)

wordcount: around 4,5k (4,682k i checked)

warnings: light angst at the start, smut, practicing shibari, practicing sensory deprivation, sub/dom drops

Masterpost :0

Taglist: @icouldbeyourpuppet , @mywritingonlyfans , @oro-e-diamanti , @bidet-and-legolas , @cheese-toastie-11 , @sofckinelectric , @juststalking , @petit-poussin , @glittermalia , @unitersmoonshine , @ethanesimp , @katyldamusic , @superchrystaldrug , @crescenttears , @maneskinrollercoaster , @till-you-scream-and-cry , @ethaneskin

(if u want to be added in the list, uh, say so :D)

___________

"No-" you mutter, hitting the machine with the heel of your palm.

"No, no, no no-" you repeat, the all too familiar message at this point appearing on the screen.

" Why does this keep fucking happening?" you yell, delivering a kick to the metal box of the A.T.M. as the machine once again rejects your withdrawal request.

You hold your head in your hands. Tears are pooling in your eyes, and your throat feels itchy.

"Fuck's sake," you mutter, wiping under your eyes with your palms.

Your phone buzzes in your coat pocket. You try to even out your breathing as you take the phone out.

"Hey Marcell," you say, trying to sound less congested. "Yea, uh, I am trying to make a withdrawal, you know, with all the issues-" you explain to your landlord. He doesn't seem impressed.

"(Y/n), you've owed me this month's rent for days. I can't really let you on for much longer"

You feel your breath quicken, and tears collecting in your eyes again.

"Marcell, listen, I'll have it by your door on Tuesday-"

"The latest I can do is Sunday. You have two days, otherwise you're out"

"Marcell, you know I need this place more than anything-"

"I can't help with that"

"Marcell please, I've lived there for years, its just a slip up-"

"That doesn't mean anything. I need some sort of income from that apartement and if you can't provide it, I'll find someone who can" he says sharply.

"Marcell-". He hangs up from his side. The phone stays beeping in your hand, the screen darkening.

You pull at your hair with the other hand, squeezing your eyes tight, trying to hold in a scream.

You don't even have the energy to get up from the sidewalk, the gazes of strangers burning holes in your skin.

You probably look like a beggar. Great.

With a disgruntled sigh, you get up, taking your card from the machine and walking back to "your" apartment. It won't be yours for long.

It really sucks that you have to share your account with your sister. Her sole purpose is draining out your account, spending the money you earn from work on stupid, unecessary objects.

Not to mention you knew she had moved back in with your parents, which meant that she was under their financial aid as well.

You could run a court case, but you don't even have the money to rent an apartment.

Hadn't you been through enough? Not to her eyes maybe. Then again, if being homeless cuts you off from your family, it might just be the better option.

Your head has started to hurt by the time you reach the familiar plaza, the lights excruciatingly bright. The tears have dried on your cheeks, making them itchy. Your phone buzzes but you chose to ignore it. Just a few meters down and you'll be able to finally rest.

The door unlocks and you head your way up to the apartment. Your phone continues to buzz, a string of messages on your phone.

'Your balance is running low. Fix that' is the message from your beloved sister.

You could easily smash your phone right now. Maybe her face too.

It is just a matter of putting the key in your door and opening it until you are able to rest, finally, finally...

"Hey, what's up?"

...or not.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing a smile.

Of course Damiano is up at this hour.

"Damiano! Hey," you reply, greeting your neighbour.

You had moved into these shitty apartments almost at the same time, been friends ever since. Right now, he has a greatly successful career in music, so it beats you why he still lives in this hell-hole.

Your voice probably comes out strained, the smile he wore fades off his face.

"Is all okay?" he asks, taking a sip from the mug in his hands.

"Well, not really, I won’t sugar coat it," you admit, putting the key in.

"But I'm not going to talk to you about it"

He pouts.

"C'mon (Y/n), we've been friends since forever. The least I can do is listen to your problems”

You exhale, knowing exactly where this will go. He always is the person you rant to, and he doesn't ever seem to mind. If anything, he is the one that always suggests it.

Fuck your inability to resist his puppy eyes.

“Sure, come on” you say, pushing the door in. He happily skips behind you, closing his door, keys in hand.

“Close the door behind you,” you tell him, taking off your coat. He sits down on one of the kitchen table chairs, holding his mug tight in his hands.

“Hit me” he says, the warmest smile on his face.

You try to mimic his smile, maybe try to imitate his warmth too.

You take a deep breath in.

“She blocked my card. Again” you say, trying to hold your tears in. Damiano’s face falls.

“How the fuck does one even do that?” he asks shocked.

“I don’t know!” you admit, holding tears in for dear life. “All I know is that she just practically stole 3k from me, for no. Fucking. Reason!”

Damiano gets up, resting his hands on your shoulders.

"Then she has the fucking audacity to text me about my balance being low" you complain, sniffling.

“Hey, come on,” he shushes, trying to calm you. “It’s alright, you’ll get it sorted”

“I FUCKING CAN’T!” you yell, pushing him away. “THAT’S THE ISSUE,”

The tears run hot down your cheeks. Damiano pulls you back in a hug.

“(Y/n), calm down please,” he whispers, petting your head as you cry in his chest.

"Sorry, I shouldn't- I shouldn't have yelled," you mutter, muffled by the way your face presses further into his chest.

"There's no need to apologise. You're upset, it's alright. I forgive you" he whisper, leaving a soft kiss to your cheek.

"She's leeching money out of my account, every, fucking day. I don't even get the chance to go and remove her ever, with this shitty ass job"

Damiano doesn't speak. He just rests his chin on top of your head, rubbing up and down your back in calming motions.

“I won’t be able to draw rent from the account” you sniffle, bringing your hands to rest on his shoulders. He sways both of you around in slow circles.

“And Marcell, he wants it by Sunday latest” You try to swallow the lump in your throat, taking in a shaky breath.

“So if it doesn’t unlock, then I’ll be out” you finish, and you felt Damiano pushing you away. You look at him confused.

“Marcell said that?” He sounds dumbfounded. You give a weak nod.

“He said he had other people interested”

Damiano throws a curse, pulling you back in his embrace.

“You’ve lived here for so long, why can’t he understand you’re going through some stuff right now, fuck’s sake” he exhales, kissing the top of your head.

You give an inaudible laugh.

“He doesn’t give a shit” you smile, curling further in Damiano’s embrace. “And I’m not letting you pay my rent” you add, seeing his face fall.

“Why not? You’re literally being forced out!” he questions, pulling away slightly to look at you.

“Just pay me back when you can if that’s the issue”

“That’s not the issue,” you mutter.

“Is it pride? Are you too proud to accept financial help or something? You think you're above help?” he asks, eyes piercing your soul.

You just sigh, pulling him closer to you.

“I just really want to be able to relax. For once”

Damiano pats your head.

“In what way?”

You just shrug.

“Maybe for once not be scared of my bank account being drained. The access to it should not be taken from me. Not worry about my own sister stealing my money, the money I work so hard to fucking earn and spending it on her friends"

Damiano lets a chuckle out.

“She’s fucking spoiled rotten. How did she even get to that?”

“Mommy’s and Daddy’s money. And my money too”.

He grimaces.

"Finally being able to cut them out would be nice"

"I promise, as soon as your account unlocks, we're going together to manage it"

You mutter a 'thank you', barely audible from where your face is buried in his chest. The soft pat on the back assures you he heard it just fine.

“What do you want to do to relax?” he asks, finally breaking the embrace.

“Sleep? Eat something? Get laid?” you suggest, opening the fridge to get some water.

“I really need all of those. Especially the sex”

Damiano giggles, looking down at his feet.

Did you mention that you and Damiano have been friends with benefits for a while?

“It would be my pleasure,” he smiles.

You gesture to yourself, maintaining eye contact.

“Well? Why are you waiting?" you ask. Damiano laughs.

“Want to try something. I’ve read some about it, it really sounds like exactly what you need” he says, coming closer to you.

“Hit me” you mimic his enthusiasm from earlier, leaning on the kitchen island. He laughs, leaning on the opposite side, coming face to face with you.

“Have you ever heard of ‘sensory deprivation’?” he asks, stroking your cheek. You shake your head.

“Well,” he starts, walking around to stand behind you.

“How it works is, I’ll tie you up on your bed, nice and tight, cover your eyes, and let you feel” he whispers in your ear, tone low.

"The point of it is amplyfying your senses. Since you eliminate sight, your touch and hearing will be maxed. But we only care about the touch now, though"

“Hm, then what?” you ask, considering his offer. You've tried a few things with Damiano before, a special and standard practice, when you have time, is shibari, with either of you wearing it. So, nothing foreign adding a suggestion.

“Then, I can make you something to eat, we can run a bath together. Then we sleep” he says, smile pressed against your ear.

“What do you think?” he asks, leaving soft, hot kisses behind your ear.

“I like it,” you say, melting into his touch. “I’d like to try that,” you admit, moaning softly when Damiano bites your ear lobe.

“I’m glad,” he whispers, pulling away from you. You pull him close by the neck, sharing a heated kiss before he pulls back.

“Go take a shower, make yourself feel nice,” he instructs, opening the door. “I’ll be back by then,” he say, closing the door behind him as he leaves. You just sigh, opening the bathroom door and turning on the light.

_____

As you exit the bathroom, Damiano is already inside, sitting on your bed, holding some deep burgundy rope on his lap. His shirt from earlier is half-unbuttoned, and his pants have noticeably swelled at his crotch.

“Feel better?” he asks, getting up and you out of your bathrobe. Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself, but he holds them back.

“A bit”

“You’re about to feel a lot better,” he smirks, pulling you to the bed slowly.

He pushes you on it, bringing you to a seat, crawling on himself, sitting between your legs.

“Tell me if anything is too tight, okay?”

You nod, letting your body hang limp as he works on the ties.

“Hands behind your back,” he orders, while pulling the rope from under his legs. He uncoils it as he stands behind you and positions your arms further. He starts with creating two loops big enough to push over your arms and up to your shoulders.

Your breath hitches when the rope tightens around your arms for the first time and a soft moan escapes your lips. It’s all the encouragement he needs for creating more knots and loops around your arms.

Finally, a pattern of rope rings keeps your arms together.

He reaches out and strokes the knuckles of his fingers over your cheeks. “Sit up, doll. Straighten your back"

You do so with a whimper, the slight restraint already making you aroused. The rope is tied securely right under your breasts. He grabs the other length of rope, threading it loosely around your neck, and down your sternum, threading knots about 10 cm away from each other. The knots end a bit higher than your belly button, the excess rope being threaded between your thighs.

“Turn around, chest down on the bed” he instructs, helping you reposition yourself.

The rope is threaded from through your thighs, all the way back up to your shoulders. The contact with the rope is loose enough to be comfortable, but tight enough to brush against your skin almost all the time. Especially the rope running between your legs has you fight the urge to squirm.

He flips you back around, sitting you up again. His face is concentrated on his hands and your skin, his brows furrowed as he intently examines his knot-work.

You look down, your skin decorated with deep red lines running in a pretty pattern, electrifying your skin with every move. Your breasts are defined by the ropes, nipples erect from all his lingering touches to skin, especially in that area.

The rope down your sternum is now connected to all the work on your torso, an easy to untie knot being placed delicately on the small of your back.

“You know,” he speaks, grabbing the other length of rope, threading it under your thigh. “If you relax as much as you need to, or more, you should let me pay your rent,”

He pushes your back down on the bed softly, positioning your legs.

You laugh.

“Damn, you really want to spend your money on me,” you comment.

“Yes or no? I promise I’ll be really good”

You purse your lips in thought.

“Alright,” you agree, seeing him grab the final length from where he sat.

“Promise you’ll be brutally honest?”

“Promise,” you say with a chuckle, and Damiano finally pulls back, giving you a kiss from where he sat.

Your thighs are tied to your calves, limiting your leg movement almost fully.

“All done,” he smiles, proud of himself.

He starts undressing himself, taking off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers on.

“Oh,” he says, grabbing a black scarf from the chair by your bed.

“Almost forgot,” he laughs, tying it over your eyes, blocking your vision entirely.

Suddenly, the world is gone from around you, the only thing you can visualise was whatever you touched.

“You remember the colour system?” he asks, his voice loud, echoing.

You give a nod, to the direction you think Damiano was. “Green, keep going. Yellow, pause a bit, something is bothering me. Red, fucking stop everything”

Damiano rewards you with a pat on your thigh. The feeling is so much weirder. More enhanced.

You feel like you are floating. It’s dark; there’s nothing around you but all-encompassing pitch-black nothing: no sound, no ground, no air, no light. Only your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

The voice is quiet, distant. You aren't sure you heard it at all.

You swallow, your skin tingling from excitement. You hear Damiano chuckle.

“I am ready" you exhale, your imagination already leaving you breathless.

Something lights up. No, ‘lights up’ is wrong. More like: heats up. You can’t see what it is, so much as feel it: a light sensation on your arm, sliding along it, upward, with the grace of a snake but the weight of an insect. You’d think of water running down, or up, your arm. It’s not right, water doesn’t slither, but you can’t think of anything else to describe the sensation.

It doesn’t even feel real, in some ways. But it’s close enough to real: it’s something you can feel, something you can focus on.

So you do. You focus on the feeling, the sensation, the touch , and let it carry you wherever it will. It moves up your arm, rounds your shoulder, traces over its ridge and moves down, across your chest. That is your chest, right? Yes, it is -- you feel your heartbeat again, suddenly. It jumps up to meet the thing that traces lines across your skin and across your sides.

The touch disappears as soon as it appears, suddenly over-aware of the mattress on your back. Silence fills the room, and you are all too aware of the situation you're in. It makes goosebumps raise to your skin.

Damiano's amused exhale reaches your ears. The bitch is so proud of himself, you can visualise the smirk on his face.

Meanwhile, your head races with ideas of what Damiano was going to do with you, wondering if this was the best idea. Then again, if you didn't trust Damiano with your life, you wouldn't have consented to this in the first place.

Despite your brain working overtime, your breathing was measured, in control. Then it hitches when you feel something warm on your left leg. You can't see Damiano running his tongue up its length and curving inward at the thigh, yet you're sure of it. Then there's a colder feeling down your chest. It's soft and in some way, always wet. It surely was the rope getting wet, and the smell was pleasant. It heavily resembled that bottle of yasmine lube you had once bought for comfort, and being water-based definitely explained the spreading dampness of the ropes touching your sternum.

His touch is back on you- properly-, running down your thighs with feather-light pressure. You can feel him part them a bit further than he already had, tracing over the ropes, making them slightly dig in your skin. Warmth radiates off of him as he moves away from your thighs, his hands smoothing down the bumps on your skin.

His fingers feel every inch of your torso, starting from the belly button and moving up to your breasts. They trace your nipple and pinch it lightly, a soft moan, barely audible, leaving your mouth.

His hands move lower, gripping on your sides and the matress below you, softly tracing the skin on your back.

You can feel his breath hot on your skin as he leaves kisses on your belly, your upper thigh, your shoulder, your neck. You shiver as he softly nips and sucks at your neck, leaving marks that would be a pain to cover tomorrow.

His mouth hovers, and he kisses your jaw, softly biting the skin before his mouth finds way to your breasts. His tongue traces around your nipple, his other hand on your other breast, kneading it lightly.

Your moans find their way out of your mouth and it's all the encouragement he needs to keep going, biting down on your nipple before pulling off, giving the other the same treatment.

You squirm under his touch and gaze, and your skin heats up, arousal finally catching up.

His hands make their way low, firmly grasping your thighs, nails softly digging in skin as he gives your nipple a final kiss. Working his way down your torso, he makes sure to leave marks almost everywhere, biting down at the skin of your sides, stopping right at your belly button.

His touch dissapears momentarily, and a whine leaves your throat. His chuckle is loud to your ears, and his hands glue themselves to your sides, fingers brushing over his bite marks as his tongue runs over the length of your cunt.

It sends shocks up your spine, and it makes you squirm, head falling back on the matress, back arching.

His hands are your only support as he works on you, his tongue switching from being inside of you, lapping up your juices, to circling your clit, drawing long moans out of you.

His nose bumps against your clit as he works his tongue deeper in you, and each time you find your hands gripping at the ropes on your back, the matress under you.

Damiano has eaten you out a miriad of times before, it has never felt so much. Your skin feels on fire, your brain blanking out. The only thing you can focus on is him, his touch. Him and the arousal shooting up your body.

It feels strangely intimate, the way you can only focus on him and him only.

A loud moan, combined with a whine, falls from your lips as Damiano's fingers join his mouth. You can feel his smirk, and you would have said something if he hadn't turned his full attention to your clit, tongue and teeth toying with it.

You reach your climax embarassingly quickly, the amplified feeling being too much too soon. Several moans and curses fall from your mouth as your hands tug on the ropes on your back, on the matress, at each other.

Damiano pulls away, his warmth dissapearing and reapearing back on your lips, in the form of a soft kiss.

"So pretty," he whispers, "you did so well" Damiano praises, his hand running through your hair as he kisses around your neck. A whine gets stuck in your throat as he kisses your temple, then nips at your earlobe while you calmed down.

"Hm, so good for me, so amazing, my amazing girl," he whispers, leaving a kiss at your jaw before leaving again.

His fingers start trailing your body again, the contact burning.

"Do you like this? Do you like it when I touch you?" he asks, his fingers tracing around your breasts.

You reply with a breathless "yes", and his touch disappears.

"Such a pretty girl, only for me," he says, his voice echoing around the room as you tried to locate it.

You hear something soft hit the ground.

The sound of a wrapper opening, a bottle cap opening and closing, Damiano's loud sigh. Then the matress dips with a creak, and his hands are back on you.

His fingers trace at your entrance, cold in contrast to the warmness of his mouth. They feel soft, and two are pushed in smoothly. You moan softly at the feeling, the sound making you even more aroused.

His other hand is softly massaging your breasts as his fingers stretch you out, his mouth whispering dirty nothings in your ears, tongue tracing around your lobe.

He pulls out his fingers moments later, and you feel wetness on your lips, slowly running down your chin.

Must be a hell of a sight.

Instinctivly, you take them in your mouth, running your tongue over them as you clean them off.

Damiano's whimper reaches your ears, and you smirk pridefully, running your tongue on the underside of the fingers as he pulls out. You hear him swallow, and his hand grasps on your side.

"Colour?" he asks, as his tip teases at your entrance, his fingers toying with your clit.

"Green, couldn't be more fucking green" you say desperately and breathlessly, and Damiano chuckles.

He pushed in and you couldn't hold back your loud moan at the sudden intrusion. His is just as loud, the foreplay making him all worked up.

You both moan as he finally bottoms out, your hips pressed flush together, taking him to the hilt. It's always such a tight fit, no matter how wet you are.

For a few seconds, you feel so full, and your skin is on fire where your hips come in contact with each other. Your hands itch to hold on him, you want to see his fucked out expression.

He thrusts slowly and a moan is stuck in your throat. His hands make way lower, touching your hipbones, tracing your hip dips.

"You’re so good,” Damiano praises under his breath. “Taking me so well.”

He starts moving his hips, beginning at a slow, steady pace. You let out little moans with every thrust, hands tugging on the ropes as hard as they can. It feels so good, him finally being inside you, and you never want this to end.

Quiet curses keep escaping Damiano's mouth, and its music to your ears as he thrusts harder and deeper. It feels more and more incredible with each passing moment, the sound of skin hitting skin makes your brain short circuit.

Your enhanced hearing and touch makes the whole experience twenty times more intense, and you're surprised at the moans leaving your mouth. It feels amazing, his cock deep inside you, a feeling so strong unlike ever before, and even if its so much it's not enough.

"Fuck- please, Dami-" you try and speak, your moans cutting you off. He slows down, letting you collect yourself.

"God, please- Faster-" you pant out, your heartbeat loud in your ears. You swallow the lumo in your throat, taking a deep breath in.

Damiano does as you ask, thrusting faster as he takes you apart. Your hips are pushing backwards desperately, craving more. More of the exceptional feeling that seems to build again, more of that delicious friction that makes your mind blank and your eyes roll back.

He thrusts into that sweet spot deep inside you, walls clenching as your head digs deeper into the matress. You feel Damiano's hips falter for a minute, then rut into you at a force greater than you think you've ever felt with him.

One of his hands detaches itself from your hip, moving down to work on your clit with agonisingly slow movements- in contrast to his thrusts- and your back arches as far up as possible. You hands have moved to grab fistfuls of the sheets as Damiano fucks you- quite literally- into the matress.

His fingers catch up to his relentless pace, and the irregular rythms gives away how close Damiano is to the edge. The nails of his other hand dig deep in your hips.

You aren't any better, desparation building up as you try to catch your breath. All of a sudden, everything is way too much, the feeling is so strong and after a few more thrusts you feel that coil inside you snap.

Your loud, drawn out moan that left your chest was incredibly pitched, sounding more like a scream as Damiano kept working you through your orgasm.

Some more uneven thrusts, few pants and your walls clamping around him from the force of your orgasm and Damiano cums with a hoarse moan, hips stuttering like crazy as he emptied himself inside the condom.

You are the first to come down from your high, your eyes feeling wet as you tried to focus your vision. You feel Damiano's chest on yours, his pants loud as he calmed down.

With a deep breath, he raises his hand, untying the scarf from behind your head, and the rope holding your hands together that was nestled under your breasts.

The light is all too blinding as you regain your sight, and man is it a sight to behold.

Damiano completelly collapsed on your chest, his own chest heaving. His hair are going in all directions, and his fucked out expression is the cherry on the top.

"Dami, you good?" you exhale, still trying to control your breathing. Your hands tries to fix his hair.

A noise that resembles a "Mhm" leaves Damiano's throat, and an amused smile forms on your lips.

"Gimme like, 10 minutes to recover," he mumbles incoherently, squeezing his eyes shut, falling back on your chest, arms looping around your neck.

You just chuckle, stroking up and down his back with your now free hands, a soft smile on your lips as he snuggles further into you.

Your own head feels heavy, and you happily welcome the tired loopy-ness of your drop.

"Take all the time you need," you whisper, hand finding way into his hair, softly massaging his scalp.

"After all, I'm not the one paying rent" you say, and Damiano's amused exhale tickles your chest as he tries to get up from your chest.

"Thamk 'ou" is all he mumbles, shuffling higher, your faces mere centimeters away from each other.

"It was my pleasure," you say, quoting him from earlier. He just smiles, leaning in for a kiss as he nestles his head in the space under your chin.

You just play with his hair, whispering soft nothings as you both went through your drop, cuddling all throughout it.

#måneskin #damiano david #x reader fanfiction #måneskin fanfic #damiano x reader #x reader #smut #damiano david smut #x reader smut #light angst

263 notes · View notes

khaotic-kitsunes · 3 years

Note

Hm, how about canonverse Dabi with a fellow Villain Reader who's really sensitive to the cold bc of their water based Quirk?

Hi! Thank you for the ask, it was a lot of fun to write! Enjoy!

~Ki

"Dabi!" You protested, as he simply laughed at you and your suffering. You huffed, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He'd just stolen the only blanket you had. It was winter, and the weather had been getting colder by the day, which was very bad for you.

Today was the first day below freezing, and you were on the verge of doing the same. After all, your body was made up of almost entirely water, making you much more sensitive to the cold than your average person.

"Aw, come on, Doll." He teased you, still holding the blanket away from you. You stuck your tongue out at him. "Why are you so mad?"

"I'm fr-freezing!" You proclaimed, growing more frustrated and more cold. Of course, you'd been paired with the scarred villain since the weather turned, since theoretically, his fire would keep you safe and not completely useless. But it seemed that fate had other plans, and Dabi was feeling particularly obnoxious during this mission.

It was a simple scouting mission. Nothing too important or noteworthy... Maybe that was it...

"If you're just bored go burn down a building or something." You snapped, making another grab for the blanket, but you stumbled on your own feet, before you could even reach it.

"Woah, you're clumsier than I thought." He laughed, but when you didn't get up, wincing at your foot, he crouched down to help you.

You were cradling the foot that you'd tripped on, so he'd made to look at it. His eyes dulled, as he realized just what he'd done. You'd been complaining about the cold since you left the hideout, and Dabi was fed up with it...

"I didn't-" He breathed, unable to finish. He shook any hesitation from his mind, quickly wrapping you back up in the blanket, and picking you up. He was careful of your foot, which now had a thin layer of frost over it, which he could see at the ankle. He just now realized that your lips weren't soft or beautiful anymore, but cracked and as blue as his flames. Your ears and nose were also among the first to be affected by the cold. He didn't realize you had been serious.

He knew the consequences of quirks could be bad, but... He didn't realize it was this far out of your own control...

Water was by no means light, but Dabi couldn't be bothered to care. He heated up his own body, coddling you to your chest.

You squeaked, but couldn't resist the warmth of his body.

You sighed in relief, as your body began to warm back up. He took you into an alley, and gently set you down on some steps. He held his hand over your foot, a dull heat radiating from it.

He was silent. You stared at him, watching him, as the frost slowly melted again.

"Thank you." You said, when you'd regained all the feeling in your body.

"You didn't say you would actually freeze." He said, all too quietly.

"I was built for warmer climates." You shrugged. "I tried to get Shigaraki to pair you with Twice and Toga, this time, but-"

"I'll take care of it, next time." He interrupted you, looking into your eyes.

His eyes were so intense, as they always were. They were frigid and cold, and yet held fire in them... You'd often caught yourself staring into his eyes, but now, it seemed you couldn't pull your gaze away.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, gently brushing his hands over your blanket, warming it up to combat the frigid air. Admittedly, Dabi had so much fire beneath skin designed to protect an ice quirk, he didn't really even start to feel the cold until most people began to hit frost bite.

You nodded. He picked you up again, despite your protests, withdrawing his heat when you tried to flail out of his grip. You gave up, and let him carry you.

You then noticed that he'd turned away from the target, headed back towards the base.

"What about the mission?"

"Hand job can suck it. You told him you'd be a liability and he didn't listen, he can take responsibility for this."

You blinked, sputtering, but no protests ever found their way to your lips.

You sighed, and allowed your head to fall on his chest, taking his his warmth.

Dabi smirked, softly, turning up the temperature, just a bit, to keep you closer to him... It was... nice.

He didn't want to admit it, and wouldn't out loud, but it had been a long time since someone had simply just been in his presence. There was no hurt, no yells, just the touch of another person.

How long had it been since he'd really embraced a person?

He tried not to think about it, but he couldn't help himself from walking a bit slower. Once you were back at base, with a heating unit, you would no longer need him... And he didn't want to expose you to the temperature any longer but... Well, he could keep the cold away, couldn't he?

So he could let himself touch you a little longer, right?

Alas, the base did eventually draw closer, and Dabi couldn't exactly turn around or go a different route. You would get suspicious.

He reluctantly opened the door. Everyone else was out on their own missions, too. He looked around. He'd only ever bothered to memorize his own room, and didn't know where yours was.

"Which way is your room, again?" There was no response. He looked down at you, but you were merely curled up into his chest, eyes closed, and breath soft and deep. A sliver of a smile and a sinking pit of anxiety crossed his being. You'd fallen asleep.

He sighed, muttering something or other about how troublesome you were, though he didn't believe in it, himself, and took you to his own room. He wasn't about to go searching though everyone's rooms for yours, the Gods only know what's in those.

He gently placed you in his bed, tucking you tightly in the covers. You whined slightly, when his warmth disappeared.

He figured you'd be fine, sitting on the edge of his bed, and reaching for his phone, but he felt you shift.

You'd rolled in your sleep, arm partially stretched out... For him, he realized.

Even at room temperature, it probably was still too cold. He sighed, moving the blankets, and slipping under with you.

He held you in his arms, letting his body do the rest. You sighed in content, curling back up into his chest.

Dabi tried not to think about how perfectly you fit in his arms, or about how your head was tucked just beneath his own, or about how you smelled like the sky just before it rained.

When you'd finally awoken, you were warm and well rested. You were in no hurry to open your eyes, until you felt something shift about you. You blinked open an eye, to see purple scarring. Both eyes opened wide, and you scrambled backwards.

This was not possible, as Dabi's arms were wrapped tightly around you. Feeling you struggling in his arms, Dabi was also awoken from the slumber he hadn't intended to fall into.

He blinked down at you, a sly smirk on his face. "Still cold, sweetcheeks?" He teased. Thought this might not have been the best first response, it was all Dabi, still tired, could come up with.

"Could you let me, go, please?" You asked. He shrugged, lifting the arm that was over you. You scrambled back.

The last thing you remembered was Dabi carrying you back to base.

"What happened?" You demanded. Dabi yawned before sitting up, in no hurry to explain himself.

"Well, let's see. You started turning into a popsicle, and I helped you warm up." You gave him a hard look. He chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. "You fell asleep on the way to base, and I couldn't be bothered to find your room. Not only did you proceed to steal all the blankets off my bed, you refused to let me go." He smirked at you. He didn’t reveal how good it made him feel or how it almost hurt when you’d pulled away from him so eagerly.

You flushed at his words. Dabi raised his hand to feel your cheek, making sure you weren't still cold. Despite his teasing actions and words, he was actually quite worried. You flushed deeper. Dabi dropped his hand. Embarrassment, not cold, then. Good.

He stood from the bed. "Well, I'm gonna go bother Handyman, stay here. Or not." He grabbed his jacket off his floor, tossing it at you. "Don't get cold, again." With that he left the room.

You remained where you were, stunned. You hesitantly grabbed his jacket. You buried your face in it, unable to resist the draw of the cinnamon and bonfire smell you'd awoken to. You breathed in, despite the embarrassment

"It smells like him." You mumbled to yourself.

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miyagihawk · 3 years

Text

why’d you only call me when you’re high? | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

based on the arctic monkeys song, requested by @deadbeatharlz <3

warnings: ! smut !, drug use, swearing, quite angsty

summary: hawk ignores you at school, but he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s high

a/n: this will be my first smut so sorry if it’s bad hehe. also, hawk is 18 in this so senior year of high school. im the same age as him in the show so i don’t think it’s weird lol

word count: 1,515

He’s such an asshole.

His stupid mohawk, the stupid way he walks like he owns the world, his stupid arrogant smile, and the stupid way his mouth moves when he talks to his stupid karate friends.

But unfortunately you love him and all of his stupid.

It hurts so bad when he walks by you at school, like he doesn’t even know you. He ignores your gaze like he didn’t just touch every inch of your skin the night before.

“I need you,” he says to you in the middle of the night, but the next day you might as well be invisible.

It makes you feel horrible. Insignificant to him. You give him every piece of you and he acts like it’s nothing. But everytime he calls, you pick up.

It’s 3 a.m. when your phone’s buzzing interrupts your dreams. You pick it up, squinting from the bright screen and answer. You don’t need to see the Caller ID, to know who it is. No one else calls you this late.

“Yes?” you mumble groggily into the speaker, half asleep with your head still on your pillow.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N,” he speaks in a dragging manner, like he always does when he’s just smoked. There’s a faint sound of music in the back, probably from the party he’s at.

“Cool,” you reply bluntly, even though his remark made your heart race. He doesn’t even have to try; just the sound of his voice has you in the palm of his hand. It’s pathetic, really.

“So pretty... I miss you,” Hawk says slowly. His voice also gets deeper than normal when he’s high and it causes your stomach to churn.

You don’t say anything, refraining from telling him what you really feel. That you miss him too.

“Y/N? Can I come over?” he asks his usual question.

You sigh, conflicted. He knows you’ll say yes and you don’t want to say yes. But you don’t have it in you to say no either. You can’t say your mom is home, because he’s been around enough to know when she works night shifts.

You would honestly hate yourself if you just said no. Having him for a night is more than nothing, even if it breaks your heart the next day.

“Just don’t drive,” you say, before hanging up.

20 minutes later, a knock on your window makes you jump. But the shadow of a mohawk reassures you that it’s just the high stupidhead you were expecting.

You lift up the window and he stumbles in with droopy eyelids and red rimmed eyes.

“You could’ve used the front door you know, I told you where the key is,” you watch as he takes off his shoes.

“I forgot,” he shrugs. It’s quiet as he steps closer to you and softly reaches out to touch your cheek. His other hand snakes around your waist to move you closer against his chest.

You know what he wants. What he always wants. You should pull away and end this vicious cycle, but his touch is too intoxicating.

“Did you miss me? I said I missed you on the phone and you didn’t say anything,” he pouts like a baby. His tough badass exterior always vanishes around you, and you wonder why.

His hand moves your hair behind your ear, trailing down to trace your neck with the gentle touch of his fingertips. Your heart accelerates, and you close your eyes at how good it feels to just be touched by him. You nod your head at his question, ignoring your pride.

With your eyes still closed, you feel his warm breath on your neck. He leaves kisses on your jaw, then sucks lightly on the spot that he knows drives you crazy. You let out a small moan at the contact, reaching your hand up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Your eyes flutter open when he retreats, and you pull him back down to kiss your lips. You feel like you’re on fire, and everything but him escapes your mind. You don’t think about him ignoring you at school or the fact that he’s high out of his mind. Right now, he’s all yours and that’s all you need.

The kiss increases in pace and hunger, and Hawk starts to lead you towards your bed. He lays you down, then hovers above your body, delivering kisses everywhere: your stomach, your hips, and your chest. Everything he does just makes you melt.

You pull him back up to your face to meet your lips with his. As you passionately kiss, you reach under his shirt to feel the rigidness of his abs and he lifts up from you.

“Want this off princess?” he smiles smugly and you nod shyly below him, blushing at the petname. He takes off his shirt in one move, and returns to your lips. Your hands roam the warmth of his skin, and you feel content when he moans into your mouth.

His own hands start to creep under your shirt and he pulls it up over your head to reveal your bra. He’s seen you dozens of times, but the view of your body could never get old. “Shit, I’m fucking hard,” he breaths at the sight of you, looking you up and down in admiration.

And he is. You feel his growing length pressing against your heat as his tongue moves with yours, and the pressure is getting overwhelming. Both of you are breathing heavily as he rubs against where you need him most, relieving some of the pressure.

Closer, you want him closer.

“I want you,” you whisper into his ear, and that’s all it takes for him to unbutton his pants. He wants you just as bad, and you don’t know it but it’s all he thinks about all day: your legs around him as you moan his name.

You shiver while he gently pulls down your shorts and underwear. His touch is so light as if he’s handling glass, that it’s hard to imagine the same hands are used for something as violent as karate.

Positioning his swollen tip at your entrance, he presses a delicate kiss to your nose before pushing himself in. The feeling of him filling you up is pure ecstasy. He’s high on marijuana, but you’re high on him and it’s more addicting than any drug.

He groans when your fingernails drag down his back and it makes him thrust into you deeper and faster. To him, you feel like magic. Your scent, your sounds, the way you clench around him when he thrusts especially hard.

You begin to see stars and you sense that he’s close too, when he twitches inside of you.

Heaven. Everything about him is heaven.

You two lay together, basking in the beautiful feeling of your release. You’re on your side with your back against his chest, and his fingertips caress your arm soothingly.

The moment is perfect. In the back of your mind you know he’s not yours, but it truly feels like he is when his lips whisper sweet nothings into your hair.

He kisses your bare shoulder, and in the moment you don’t even think when you say the forbidden words.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what just escaped your mouth and you feel his mutual shock from behind you.

But you can’t take it back. It’s out and it’s floating around the room like a bad smell you can’t get rid of. Any trace of the exhilarating moment you just shared is gone, replaced by an awkward air suffocating you both.

“You don’t mean that,” Hawk shifts away from you and you want to tear up at the withdrawal.

“And what if I do?” you look at him, looking him in the eye even though you’re afraid of his reaction. But his stare is blank and he avoids your gaze like he does in the hallways.

“You can’t. I treat you like shit, Y/N. I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he shakes his head. Your heart drops when he starts to put on his clothes and gather his things. Usually he stays the night at least, but you spilled too much of your heart and he doesn’t want it.

You don’t know what to say, because in the end he’s completely right, even if you don’t want to admit it. He does treat you like shit. He only calls you when he’s high, and through it all you still torment yourself by loving him.

Taking your silence as an answer, Hawk opens up your window. He takes one last look at your small figure under the sheets before leaving you. His own heart breaks at the distraught expression on your face, and the fact that it’s all his fault.

Of course he loves you. But you’re too good for him.

He didn’t say, but you know that tonight is the last night he’ll ever call you at 3 a.m. again.

part 2!

#eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai

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meat--grindr · 3 years

Note

Ohh your writing is wonderful... I’ve actually never requested before so I hope get this right but: could I request Billy Lenz x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB if it’s brought up) with Billy sucking on his partner’s fingers and discovering they are really, /really/ into it but also super embarrassed about it? Bastard-ness ensues. Hope this request is ok!

Okay? This is waaay more than okay! I’ve been so excited about this prompt since I received it! I’m so sorry for not getting to it earlier. I hope like six months later is better than never though! I’m also super excited to be your first request! I hope this lives up to your expectations, whatever they may have been!

Just a few general warnings beforehand: Billy is really rough with the reader he uses some extremely degrading language as per the canon (I’ve excluded the term ‘piggy,’ though, because I am NOT A FAN™ of that aspect of his dirty talk.) I want to specifically call to attention the liberal use of the terms ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt.’ The reader is never gendered with personal pronouns, but those words are used in reference to them and their anatomy several times. I am of the opinion that Mr. Lenz would use those terms regardless of what hole he’s using, but if they make you uncomfortable, maybe give this one a miss? Furthermore, I would like to mention that Billy is not a mentally well man (obviously) who has had a rather traumatic past with abuse, both of these are discussed within this fic, so please take care of yourselves and read this work responsibly if you want to read it at all. I don’t want anyone to be hurt by my writing because I didn’t warn them properly.

Also, this is my first time writing for Billy, so please forgive me if it takes a little while for me to get completely used to him. He’s a…unique fella, let’s say.

Editing Ripper’s Note: I was just about to post this when I realized I completely misread the prompt! I read it as the reader is really into sucking on Billy’s fingers, not the other way ‘round! I’ve been looking at this prompt, literally since December and still never caught on. I feel like a total idiot. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve decided to post this anyway because A) the kink is still there in the fic, just not exactly as requested, and B) I had already finished it by the time I noticed my mistake. So much time has passed and if the original requester is still keeping tabs on this blog, I don’t want to make them wait any longer. That being said, if you’d like me to write your request properly, please send me a message and I will do my best!

Mind Your Teeth – Billy Lenz (Gender Neutral* Reader) - NSFW

· Slick with sweat, your chest slides against the surface of your desk with each cruel snap of Billy’s hips. You can feel the laboured heaving of his chest against your back as he struggles for breath. It leaves his lips in ragged, staggering puffs, heavy and hot against your shoulder blade, accompanied every so often by the slick warmth of his saliva as it drips down onto your bare skin.

· Despite his gawky build, he manages to loom over you, folding you nearly in half against the desk. He’s made himself rather comfortable, sprawled over top of you. His chest presses against your back, boney ribs grinding against the knobs of your spine through the stiff, itchy fibers of his jumper. It’s sticking to your skin, soaked through in spots with sweat—yours and his—and you can feel it peeling up from your flesh with every movement he makes.

· He’s got you pinned, holding you down against the smooth wooden surface with little more than his weight. He’s surprisingly heavy, and though he doesn’t look it, Billy is a strong man—he’s more than capable both of lifting you off of the floor and pinning you down to it. He’s strong and his hands are by no means an exception to that rule. Though they may be long and thin, and they tremble whenever they hold you, his grip is nearly unbreakable. His clumsy fingers circle your wrists like iron fetters, dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of your forearms and cutting little crescents into the skin—just deep enough to sting. You can barely move beneath him—can barely breathe—and he knows this. He has you exactly where he wants you and you’re not going anywhere until he decides to let you.

· Another bruising thrust pitches you forward, and your knees bang against the desk drawers. You cry out, though whether it was for the dull ache in your legs or the sudden stab of pleasure between them, even you couldn’t say for certain. Though if there is any concern at all in Billy for your wellbeing, he’s certainly keeping it to himself. Your outburst only seems to egg him on, as his pace begins to take on a more frantic edge.

· His thrusts are shallow as he rocks into you—it’s as though he can’t bare to withdraw from the tight heat of your body for long. Dimly, through the fog of pleasure, you struggle to feel surprised. It’s all about instant gratification with Billy. Always has been—why should he tease himself or draw things out when he could just pry open your willing mouth and drag his cock against your tongue until he cums down your throat? Still, there is a force behind those thrusts—one which throws you up against the lip of the desk hard enough that you’re sure there will be a solid line of bruising along your midsection before the night is through. Every push of those hips shoves you forward a little more, until your head is nearly knocking against the wall and your toes barely touch the ground.

· Your cheek slides against a slick patch of wood and you realize you’ve been drooling across the desktop. The little puddle at the corner of your lips only grows in size as a particularly deep thrust from Billy wrings another string of wrecked whimpers from your throat. You wish you could pull away from the puddle—longing to drag the back of your hand across your cheek and wipe away the slickness, but there’s little you can do about it with Billy still holding your arms hostage. But at the same time, something about it thrills you—to be ruined like this—held still, unable to so anything but whimper, and drool, and take what you’re given. It’s…liberating.

· “C’mon, little bitch! Take my fat cock! You can t-t-take it better than that! Take it! Take-Take-Take it good for B-B-Billy!” He babbles into your shoulder, chapped lips scraping against your shoulder as he mouths at your flushed skin. His tongue flickers out, dragging a wet stripe against your skin, scorching hot, then suddenly too cool as it begins to dry in the open air.

· “Such a pretty pusssssy,” He slurs, “Pretty, pretty pusssssy. Gonna fill it up—gonna fill it with my fat ffffffucking cock!”

· You feel him jerk behind you, his muscles going taught as a violent spasm rolls through his body. When he speaks again, the voice that comes is not his own—it’s deeper, rumbling down in his chest, belonging to a man much larger than he, “Why I outta beat that boy! Beat him up good! Beat Billy bad! Beat him good! Beat him up, up, up!”

· His hips still and your heart leaps up into your throat, your pulse pounding hard in the tight space. This can’t be good. You squirm beneath him, trying and failing to turn your head. Your eyes roll wild in their sockets, desperate to get a good look at Billy, but he remains a shadow at the edge of your vision. You remember this voice. He had so many it was difficult to keep track of them sometimes—he’d mimic almost anything he heard; the children from down the road calling to one another while they played, the weatherman making predictions on the radio, even the neighbour’s cat. It was easy to forget which voices and phrases came from where once he’d picked them up and used them enough. But this is one that predates you, and you recognize it with a chilling clarity—the father’s voice: always angry, often violent.

· It frightens you when Billy uses it, though not because of the threat Billy poses to you. Of course, you know to tread carefully when he's in one of his moods—you’ve seen first hand the destruction wrought when his directionless frustration is given direction. But, you know this voice is a far more likely indicator that Billy is an imminent threat to himself. You’ve seen him pacing the floor like a caged animal, trembling hands beating about his head, tearing at his clothes and hair as he works through the frenzy, all the while babbling to himself in that deep, rumbling voice: “Rotten boy! Teach you a fucking lesson! Beat Billy! Bad Billy! Bad, Bad, Bad!” He's blackened his eyes, split his lips and knuckles, shattered countless plates and cut his hands on the shards. He loses himself in that voice, and that scares you.

· ‘Losing himself,’ that’s what you’ve come to call these episodes—those moments when his excitement and boundless energy curdle, souring into anxiety and agitation so quickly it makes you head spin. And in this moment, he’s displaying all the tell-tale sighs you’ve come to recognize—the full-body tremors, the angry voices, self-directed violence—mere threats or otherwise…

· No, this is not good. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him do this, and you’re sure it would not be the last, but he’s never done it while you were…playing before. And that worries you. You’re both vulnerable, half-undressed and bent over a desk. Even worse, he was behind you. You’d learned very quickly never to let him out of your sight when he got like this. He was unpredictable—prone to lashing out whether he meant to or not. But he wasn’t beyond helping. If you could just turn your head and look at him—make him see you, help him to ground himself like you practiced, you might be able to talk him down, or at least ease him through the worst of it. Maybe. If you could only get a look at him.

· You flounder for your voice and struggle to keep it steady once you find it, “Hey, B-Billy? Billy, baby, you’re okay, right?” It’s an innocent question you usually begin with when he gets like this. Sometimes he’s too worked up to even begin to answer you, sometimes he tries so damn hard to answer, but can’t—not in a way you could really understand anyhow—and sometimes you can talk it through with him. Every time you try, the reaction is different. You can only cross your fingers and pray for a positive outcome.

· This time, he coughs. It’s a horrible, a horrible, racking sound that echoes in his chest—it’s almost closer to a scream than anything else. Another spasm jitters through him, the joint in his neck snapping loud in the darkness. You feel his forehead collide with your shoulder once, twice, then he stills. His flesh is clammy against yours, and the gentle brush of his hair makes your skin prickle, but he seems calmer. He barks a laugh—his own this time—and nuzzles against your back, smearing your skin with sweat and saliva. “Fuck!” He says, as though that explains everything.

· “Billy? Are you…alright?”

· He chirps like bird, three short bursts of whistling he’d picked up last spring when a robin mad made a nest on your windowsill, “Right as rain, rain, rain!”

· You’re left with a heady rush of confusion and relief as you realize he must have pulled himself out of the hole he’d almost fallen into. A little flicker of pride sparks to life in your chest. He’s come so far.

· Your concern melts away once again into pleasure as Billy jerks his hips. Keening high in the back of his throat, he fucks himself deeper into you. He drags his cock out slow, sounding for all the world as though he’d forgotten just how good it felt to fuck you—as though he hadn’t been doing just that not sixty seconds ago. He scrapes his teeth against your shoulder, the promise of a bite that will surely come and mark you for days. His fingers flex around your wrists, blunt nails biting deeper into your flesh as he falls back into that brutal rhythm.

· Your legs begin to shake as Billy’s cock bumps up against something a bit more sensitive inside of you. Your breath fogs against the surface of the desk as it heaves from your lungs, a thin mist that barely has the time to fade before the next heavy puff of air replaces it. You find yourself struggling to swallow the moans Billy’s working so hard to pull from you. You know how much he likes to hear you—how wild it makes him—and you know there’s no real need to be quiet, not with the dorm cleared out for the long weekend. Still, something—be it a force of habit from living in close quarters with thin walls, or simply your own embarrassment—keeps you quiet.

· “Fiiiilthy whore!” A growl, caught low in his throat, tears through the air between you, “Pretty pussy! Want it full! My cock, my cum…gonna fill it full!” Never at a loss for a string of vulgarities, Billy mumbles against your skin, his words slurring into one another until you can barely decipher one though from the other.

· “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” Billy jerks his hips forward, and for the first time this evening, you feel the full length of his cock stretching you out. You jerk beneath him, mewling into the desktop, squirming about as you try desperately to relax around him. You’re so full—so full you can barely breathe, but it feels so good. Your muscles contract around him, unbidden, throbbing with the sudden stretch. It makes him shudder and sigh above you, a wavering rush of air than hisses out between his teeth.

· He holds you there for a moment, trembling almost as much as you are, “Tight fffucking cunt, so fucking tiiight for Billy!” His hips stutter forward in time with his ragged breathing. Desperately, he tries to fuck himself deeper into you, even though he can’t—he’s already buried to the hilt, his hips tucked snugly against your ass. But he gives it the old college try anyhow. He begins to babble nonsensically against your neck, “Ruin it, ruin it! Never take another cock! Full, full, full! I left it in the kitchen, Jan! Not after Billy’s! A low pressure system moving in and—fuck you full, fuck you full, full, full!”

· The tops of his thighs quiver as he grinds into you, and as he shifts, the head of his cock presses against something. For a moment, your vision goes white. Your legs seem to fall away beneath you, your knees drifting south as the pleasure carries away their ability to hold you upright any longer. If it weren’t for the desk, you probably would have slid down into a boneless heap on the floor.

· You gasp, mouth gaping wide, pulling in a great, deep lungful of air. To call his name? To beg him for more? To put wordless voice to your pleasure? You aren’t sure. There is little room in your brain for thought beyond the need for more. Mercifully, Billy saves you from the struggle before you can waste too much energy on it.

· Almost as soon as he realizes your mouth is open, Billy shoves his fingers into your mouth. Two boney digits slide against your tongue, pressing and prodding against the slick muscle. The taste of dust and salt floods your mouth with the intrusion. You wrinkle your nose, and try to pull your head back, but Billy leans down into you, pressing you down further beneath his weight, grinding your ribs into the desktop.

· “No, no, no,” He chides, voice soft and light—almost cheerful. He spreads his fingers apart, rubbing over the hard bumps of your bottom teeth with a tenderness you rarely see in him. “Gotta make room,” His voice rumbles through you as he presses his lips against your flesh, “Gotta stretch it out for Billy, or he won’t fit!”

· He nuzzles his cheek against your shoulder, still rocking his hips into you, pressing against that spot that makes your brain fill with television static, “Billy’s gonna fuck your throat once he’s filled that pretty pussy!”

· Your lips are pulled taught as his fingers press against the walls of your mouth, testing its limits. “Soft and warm! Wanna fuck it! Fuck it deep!”

· His hips buck hard, shoving you another inch toward the wall. You can feel yourself drooling around his fingers—your saliva dripping down your chin in great rivulets and collecting beneath your cheek.

· His knuckles bump against the roof of your mouth as the pads of his fingers find the back of your tongue. You gag around them, struggling to breathe, but Billy just laughs and presses down harder.

· “Again,” His voice comes out in a ragged puff of breath, half-whisper, half-growl, rough as rock salt, “Pussy gets tight when it chokes.”

· You try to suck in a shocked breath, but you can’t manage it around his fingers. Your throat convulses around him as you struggle to breathe.

· You feel his cock pulse inside of you and he groans his pleasure long and low into the darkness, “Yesssss!”

· He rocks into you again, “No one fucks like Billy, huh?” He pulls back, his cock nearly slipping from your body entirely, then he slams his hips home again, “No one fucks you full like Billy can! No one! No one! No one!” The phrase becomes a litany, each sentence punctuated with a bruising snap of his hips. “Know why?” He drags his teeth along the edge of your shoulder blade, “Know why?” You can hear the grin in his voice, wide and sharp, “‘Cuz Billy fills you up from both ends!”

· You sob around Billy’s fingers, your eyes rolling back as he pushes them deeper into your mouth. If he keeps on like this, it won’t be long before you fall apart around him—you want to cum so desperately, you can hardly keep another thought in your brain. Your muscles clench up around him and he laughs, giggling to himself as he hooks his chin over your shoulder. He can feel how close you are.

· His tongue slides against the side of your face, leaving a thick, wet stripe across your cheekbone. His lips scratch rough against your jaw, “Pretty pussy’s gonna cum? Gonna cum all over Billy’s fat fucking cock? Yeah?” His simpering tone makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you nod. Another peal of sick laughter bubbles up in his throat, “You’re gonna cum and Billy’s not even trying! So dirty, dirty, dirty!”

· You whine around his fingers as he babbles on, “Billy could fuck you harder, but he doesn’t need to! Stupid, greedy pussy, silly fucking cunt can cum like this!” His teeth sink into your shoulder and the rest of his diatribe is lost to you. Even so, he continues to mumble filth against the skin caught between his teeth.

· The bite stings, bright and sharp, and you sob around him, clenching your jaw, your teeth digging into his fingers. Billy releases you with a hiss, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. You think for a moment you might have hurt him, but in mere seconds, he’s giggling to himself again. “Sharp, sharp teeth! No good. No, no good. Not for Billy’s cock. Gotta tear them out, make room for Billy!”

· Though you know the threat is mostly empty, the way Billy caresses your molars with the pad of his finger makes you a little nervous. You’re sure if he could get a good grip, he could easily ‘make room,’ and there was probably not much you could do to stop him. But he pulls his fingers back, retreating from the crushing press of your back teeth.

· He presses down against your tongue again, rubbing against the slick muscle fondly. “Need to practice! Greedy cunt needs to learn! Learn to suck Billy’s fat cock properly.” He snaps his hips, as though trying to remind you just how fat it really was—as though there was any change you could forget while it was rearranging your guts for you. “Gonna teach you to take it good!”

· Your eyes roll back at the thought. You can picture yourself kneeling under the desk, Billy draped over the chair, wild hair falling over his eyes as you try to take him all the way down to the base. He’d fuck your throat until your vision goes black, his fingers tangled deep in your hair, nails digging into your scalp. Your own fingers slide desperately between your thighs, chasing your release as he chases his own and god what you wouldn’t give to make the fantasy real—to feel the length of him in your mouth, the rough denim of his pants beneath your hands, the jerk and sting against your scalp as he tugs on your hair. Your cheeks hollow around Billy’s fingers, a pretty whine sitting high in the back of your throat.

· And Billy stops—stops moving, stops talking. He hovers above you, silent and still as a statue, barely breathing. A terrible moment of clarity washes over you and the embarrassment comes rolling in. There you were, still stretched out on Billy’s cock, barely moments away from an orgasm and you were already thinking about another? Were you really that desperate? Your cheeks burn hot against the cool wood of the desktop. Shame licks at the pit of your stomach—it wasn’t unlink Billy to think this way, he was always seeking the next shot of pleasure, but it wasn’t like you. As though it wasn’t bad enough to catch yourself thinking that way…for someone else to do it? It was mortifying…and maybe a little exciting too.

· Your stomach flips as Billy shifts behind you, the burgeoning stubble on his jaw scraping across your sensitive skin. Then you feel it, a smile spreading across his face—it’s a grin you’ve come to know well, all teeth and wide enough to make his jaw pop. Even without looking at him, you know you’re fucked.

· All at once, he lurches to life again, fucking his fingers hard into your mouth, in tandem with the harsh thrusts of his hips. A filthy string of gibberish falls from his lips as he pounds into you, “Greedy! Greedy cunt! Want it in your mouth too? Filthy, greedy fucking whore!”

· You whine, and choke, and sob around Billy’s fingers. Your face is wet with sweat, with spit, with tears, you can’t tell and at this point, you’re far beyond the point of caring. The world has narrowed to a single point between your legs as you teeter on the knife’s edge of your release. You rock your hips back against Billy, meeting his thrusts, desperate for more. You’re so, so close, and Billy can feel it too—the way you tighten around him spurring his pace from wild to frantic.

· His voice is broken, his words panted out between jagged breaths and garbled moans, “Gonna be good for Billy? Gonna cum?” His face is buried in the crook of your neck. He giggles against your flesh as he splits you open, slamming into you like it’s the last fuck he’ll ever have. “C’mon, take what Billy gives you! Take it, take it, t—ta—fuuuck!”

· Your hips stutter as your orgasm throbs through you. You scream around his fingers as you cum, your muscles clamping down around Billy so hard he almost has to stop moving, rolling his hips forward quick and shallow. His howl is lost in the sound of blood rushing in your ears, but you can feel it vibrating through his chest, and down into your back. Your fingers scrabble at the wood beneath you, desperate for something to latch onto—to keep you grounded here as the pleasure threatens to carry you away.

· You sob and slump limp against the desk, letting it bear the brunt of your weight. There’s just no strength left in your body anymore. Your hands and feet tingle with the lingering aftershocks of the adrenaline as you begin to come down from your high, and your breath comes hard, as though you’ve run a great distance. Billy’s hips continue to snap against yours, brutal and quick. You sob into his fingers, the as the relentless pleasure sparks through you, nearly painful to your sparking nerves.

· Slowly, as your ears stop ringing, you realize Billy is still talking, babbling away in several voices. “Like your pussy tight like this. Wanna fuck you full while you cum again and again and again and I told you, Jan, I left it in the kitchen! Make you soaked, keep you soaking wet, make you fucking cry! Where is that cat? Where’s that cat? Where’s the…WHERE’S THE BABY, BILLY?! AGNES? WHERE’S AGNES, BILLY?! Beat that kid! Teach him a lesson! BEAT HIM UP GOOD!”

· His left hand shoots up from your arm and wraps around your throat, fingers flexing around your windpipe, not quite squeezing, yet, but the pressure is far from comfortable.

· “T-T-Teach rotten old Billy a lesson.” A spike of fear shoots through you and you choke around his fingers. This seems to bring his mind back, at least in part, to the present, or at least confuse him enough to serve as a distraction—he makes a noise caught between two voices. The fear that courses through you lends new strength to your limbs as you reach up and claw at his fingers.

· As you attempt to pry him lose, his grip only tightens, fingers locking around your windpipe, “Teach that boy a FUCKING lesson!” The knobby joints of his fingers press hard against the pulse in your throat and you’re sure he can feel it hammering beneath your skin. He’s losing himself again, you’re sure.

· But again, this time was different. He hadn’t stopped fucking his cock into you like he had before, and he’d wavered for a moment, when you’d choked on him. There might be something else you could do to help him. Desperate to keep him here with you in the present moment, you flex your tongue against his fingers. His hips stutter and your heart skips a beat in turn. “Filthy fucking c-c-cunt…”

· You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks around his fingers again. C’mon, Billy!

· “F-Fuck!” It’s not quite his voice, but it’s close, perhaps a little higher, a little more strained than usual, but it’s close. “Where’s the baby, Billy? Where’s the…c-c-cat gone to now?” His fingers begin to relax around your throat, but you keep sucking on his fingers, wanting to make sure you’re well and truly out of the woods before you even think about stopping. If this is going to work, you’re going to make damn sure of it.

· “Fucking greedy little cunt!” You could have cried with relief at the sound of his voice—his real voice. You hum around his fingers, and he laughs, the sound low and rumbly, “Still so fucking eager.” His hips buck forward, pressing deep inside of you. It’s still too much, too soon, and you sob with the overstimulation. The sudden spike of pleasure punches the air from your lungs and shakes your legs from underneath you.

· Billy groans as you pulse around him. “You want Billy to cum? Wand Billy to fucking fill you?” You nod frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he grinds into that spot, filling your vision with white hot splotches of light.

· “Suck his cock, then,” he says, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth again. He spreads them wide, nearly matching the girth of his cock where it fucks you open. Billy jitters behind you, chasing his release with quick, cruel thrusts. Impatient as always, he pushes digs his nail into the wall of your cheek, “Fucking suck Billy’s cock!”

· You jerk into motion as though startled from a deep sleep, pressing your head down against his fingers to take them as deep as you could. Your tongue laves against the digits, prodding gently against his scarred knuckles, playing in the space between them.

· Billy throws his head back, moaning to the ceiling long and loud, “Yessss! Good little pet! Pretty, pretty pet! His fingers stroke your throat as though he’s petting a cat, feeling it work up and down as you swallow around him. “Gooood pet! Suck Billy’s cock! Suck his cock! Su—NO!”

· Suddenly, he stops, his fingers stilling. For a moment, you think you’ve done something wrong. Had your teeth caught against him? Had you hurt him? Should you pull back and ask, or carry on? Before you can make a decision one way or another, Billy thrusts his fingers back into your throat, pressing them in as deep as he could. His knuckles bump against your back molars as you gag around him, trying desperately to breathe through your nose.

· “Lick Billy’s cunt,” For a moment, you’re still, confusion slicing through the pleasure. Billy tries to press his hand forward, his fingertips brushing against the back of your throat, “Lick it! Lick Billy’s cunt! Lick it! Lick it! Tongue his fffffucking clit!” You think about it for a moment, your exhausted, lust-fogged brain struggling to put two and two together, and then suddenly you think you understand. As gingerly as you can, while Billy continues to rock you forward over the desk, you press your tongue against the soft spot between his knuckles.

· This must have been what he’d wanted because the sound he makes is like nothing you’ve ever heard before—a wail caught somewhere between human and animal. You’ve never heard a human sound like that before. Like so many things about Billy, it’s frightening, and yet it fascinates you, attracts you, arouses you. You press your tongue harder against that spot, and the frantic rocking of his hips picks up again—but this time there’s no rhythm to it. He’s close.

· “Fucking lick Billy’s clit, make him cum! Make him cum in your pretty pussy!” You lap at his flesh with quick, deliberate swipes of your tongue. He howls against your flesh, his forehead thudding against your shoulder heavy and hard. “Fuck, f-f-f-fuck, make Billy fucking cum! Billy’s gonna, he’s-he’s-he’s gonna—!”

· In the moment before he cums everything is calm. He stills, and his voice is soft and steady in your ear; “I’m going to ruin you.”

· Then the world falls back into chaos.

· His whole body shudders above you, a bag of jangling bones he couldn’t keep control of if his life had depended on it. His teeth fix themselves deep into your shoulder, slotting into the indentations they’d left not long before. You cry out around his fingers, sure he’s drawn blood this time. You can see it when you close your eyes, visions of thick red blood splattered against his dark incisors floating against the dark inside of your eyelids.

· He shudders, momentarily stilling, then kicking back into motion, seemingly unable to deicide if he’d rather pound you through his orgasm or remain still, buried to the hilt in your tight heat. You feel the heat of him inside of you pulsing against your walls as he cums. His cheek is pressed tight against your shoulder gibbering a collection nonsensical sounds and snatches of obscenities into your flesh, “Pretty pink cunt! ah, ahhhh, fuuh—fuuuh—fuck! Dripping now! Where did you leave it? Left it fucking dripping!"

· You’re sore beyond belief from the pounding you’ve taken, but there’s still a throbbing want underneath. He’d dragged you most of the way to a second orgasm, now all you needed was a little push. Before you were completely at is mercy, able only to receive the pleasure he decided to give you. But now, your hands were free and with them you could do as you pleased. You wriggle beneath him, slipping your hands down between your thighs.

· Your fingers find their prize, and you sob, your whole body jerking forward. Even though you’d cum mere moments ago, you can’t believe how sensitive you are. You’re on the verge of orgasm almost immediately. You press harder the slide of your fingers aided both Billy’s cum and your own. You shudder, whimpering around his fingers. Your muscles clamp down on him once again, throbbing and pulsing as your orgasm builds.

· He hooks his finger inside of your cheek and pulls, “Wanna cum again. Wanna cum in your mouth,” He pulls harder exposing the sides of your teeth, “Billy wants to feel them! Feel them on his cock! Sharp and hard.” He laughs, “But Billy likes it hard.” The harsh snap of his hips that follows has you seeing spots. He opens his mouth as though to gloat, as you clench around him, he loses his words. Whimpering, soft and broken sounds against your neck, he grinds into you.

· Seconds later, you clamp down around him, a second orgasm shooting through you. The sound he makes as you cum on his oversensitive cock is nothing short of feral. He bucks wildly into you, seeking more of a pleasure that sounds almost painful as he sobs into your shoulder. His cock pulses inside of you again, throbbing as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you, as though intent on giving you more.

· And you’re sure he would. Or he would have, if you hadn’t reached back and pushed against his shoulder. He was insatiable—he’d keep going for hours unless you stop him now.

· He pulls his fingers out first, a pearly string of saliva connecting your lips to his fingertips. You cough, scratchy and wet, but when you speak, there’s no pain. “I…I just need a little break, Bills. Okay?” Your chest is heaving as you struggle for air. Billy hums above you, hesitating for a moment. He’s reluctant to give up the tight heat of your body. But at last, after nearly a full minute of grumbling and mumbling to himself, he pulls out.

· There's a sticky gush of fluids against your thigh as his cum beings to leak out of you. You rest there for a moment, the pair of you breathing hard in the darkness, the comfortable weight of his body pressing down above you, the solid plane of the desktop below. Then all of a sudden, you’re being lifted up. You squeal in shock as your flipped about and placed atop the desk. The surface is still cool against your heated flesh. The difference in temperature is a shock to your system and goosebumps break out across your arms and legs.

· Before you have a moment to process what’s happening, Billy’s head is between your thighs, his tongue lapping at mess he’d made. Your eyes go wide, and you head knocks against a wall as it falls back, “Fuuuuck, Billy!” Your hips cant up against his face, thighs squeezing tight around his ears.

· “Pretty pussy came twice already,” You can feel him smirking against your inner thigh. “Still wants more? Greedy, greedy, greedy.” You catch a glimpse of his eyes, wide and wild, shining in the darkness beneath is tangled hair, “It’s okay, Billy likes you greedy.”

#billy lenz x reader #billy lenz x you #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #ripper fics #hey everyone!#i really hope i caught all the errors #if not you didn't see them-i'll get them soon enough #please enjoy and my apologies again for getting the prompt wrong

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 3 years

Text

Trust Me -- Part 2

02/06/2021: Wow, uh, wow. This one got me. Almost started crying at the cheesy ending. I will cringe at it in precisely two months from now. Thank you guys SO much for all the positive feedback of PART 1, it really helped me finish this part. Without you guys, this would have been still sitting in my drafts. There's lowkey a bit of pressure in this actually being GOOD, so I'm sitting here with a bit of Imposter SyndromeTM and crossing everything I can cross that you guys like it. I can't tell whether I went overboard or not, though... I guess that's for you guys to tell me lmao.

Also, these commas can be pried from my very cold, extremely dead, fingers.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! For the first time in almost ever, I'm a bit very nervous to post this -- I hope you enjoy it!!

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @yourlocalfrenchie // @rahdaleigh // @sofiewithat /// @iceboundstar // @mythandmagik // @itseivwhore // @pink-polarfox // @missbenzayb // @ct-5445 // @timbreavery // @dacian-assassin // @thepalaceofmelanie // @asilverraven // @huntheimpossible // @eclectic--assassin // @thehistorynut19 // @ta-ka-shi-ma // @roki3chocoa // @fandomsfanman // @le-nottibianche // @bandit-brunsmeier // @starmoji1 // @spocktheestallion // @salty-thembo // @missingfrye // @xdeimos // If you want to be tagged, let me know!!

Warnings: Lots of swearing, a bit of graphic violence, implicit mention of sexual assault (I hope it's not a spoiler to say that this does not actually happen, but the idea is used as manipulation. It's not done well, but I'm blaming that on the character being a horrible liar, instead of me sucking at write arseholes), implied character death.

Pairing: Edward Kenway x F!Reader

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The neighbouring ship was chaotic. The opponents were drunk on victory, so slipping through unnoticed was easy. The hard part was going to be staying undercover until you could free Edward and the rest of the crew without anyone falling casualty. “Strip them of their weapons and take them to the brig!” You heard the Quartermaster yell. Thinking quickly, you moved to Edward; if you knew where his weapons were, escaping could be much easier. People were already pulling out his pistols and cutlasses, fortunately dumping them in your arms. Looking around, you pulled away to hide them in an inconspicuous barrel for later.

You weren’t planning on staying long.

Quickly rejoining the group, you took hold of one of your crew members -- you recognised him as one named Jonah -- at the back of the crowd, keeping your face covered lest they accidentally reveal your identity. You kept your eye on Edward’s tense shoulders the entire time, heading below deck and to the rows of cells at the end of the ship.

As you gently pushed Jonah into the cell, someone slammed the door shut, chucking the ring of keys your way. “Lock ‘em up.” Swallowing, you nodded, feeling uncomfortable under their gaze while turning the key in the lock. Taking them out of your hands, a mop and bucket was shoved in its place. “You’re on cleaning duty, starting upstairs; let’s go.” With one last glance, your eyes scoured for Edward before they all disappeared from view.

----------

Edward

There was this crushing anxiety he just couldn’t shake. It rendered him almost motionless, crouched in the corner of the cell, picking at his sleeves. There was a commotion heading towards them; he was in for company he was not in the mood for.

Heavy footsteps gave away the visitor. “We searched your boat.” His crew parted to clear a view as Charles Marlowe relaxed against the cell bars. “We found your woman.”

Edward’s eyes snapped to Marlowe’s as he clenched his jaw, almost daring him to say more.

With a chuckle and a disgusting grin, he brought out a small knife to clean. “Don’t you want to know where she is?”

“I expect you’d would tell me regardless.”

“I would advise against winding me up, Kenway. I could always take my anger out on her instead.”

It took a second for Edward’s arms to fly through the bars, constricting around Marlowe’s throat. “What have you done with her?”

Although cold metal pressed against his jaw, he didn’t ease up.

“She’s waiting for me very nicely... in my cabin.”

Edward didn’t have to think very hard to infer his meaning.

“I’ll kill you if you touch her. I’ll kill you.” Growling, he held impossibly tighter, for if he was here, he wasn’t there.

“With your actions come consequences, Kenway. And you might not be the one paying for them.”

A dilemma came to mind: delay him to keep him away from you, or risk the consequences of his revenge?

Somewhat luckily, he didn’t need to choose.

Before Edward could comprehend that he loosened his grip, Marlowe slipped out of his grasp. The distraught Captain pressed himself against the bars, anger drenching his expression as he heaved out breaths. His captor laughed. “You’re very good at empty threats, Kenway.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” His cold tone streaked through the crew, setting hairs on end. They had never heard their Captain like this before; so angry, so dangerous.

It terrified them.

“That remains to be seen. In the meantime…” With a mocking whistling tune, Marlowe spun on his heels and began to walk away.

“Come back here, bilge rat!” He pulled harshly against the cell door. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

“Then you better stay in line.”

As he disappeared from view, Edward’s emotions overwhelmed him, frustrated tears coming to his eyes. He turned to a solid wall, slamming the side of his fist against it and yelled.

Fear, anger, guilt, and grief echoed around the brig.

Collapsing against the wood, he hid his face in his hands, aiming to either calm himself or hide his inevitable breakdown.

----------

Y/N

“Finish up downstairs.” Nodding affirmatively, you picked up the mop bucket and eagerly headed beneath deck, having to consciously slow down to avoid suspicion. You were glad you were disguised in the uniform of Marlowe’s crew instead of the rags of the common sailors aboard; it would’ve made the job much harder than it had to be.

Keeping a level head, you walked past the cell holding your family and placed the mop bucket against the wall, scanning the deck.

Empty.

Sighing in relief, you realised that you were alone with your crew at last. As you pulled the covering off of your face, you shushed frantically, the cell almost erupting into cheers. You gestured for them to part, eyeing Edward, almost balled up in the corner of the cell. “Hey, Ed,” you whispered, watching as his head snapped up to you, eyes widening.

Scrambling up, he strode to the bars in a second, reaching through the gaps to hold you. “Thank Christ…” he exhaled in relief, bringing your forehead to his lips between the bars. You pulled away after a few moments, sharing relieved glances. “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?” he asked, eyes scanning you for any sign of injuries.

“No, no, I’m okay. Are you alright? Did we lose anyone?”

“I’m... fine; I haven’t done a head count yet.”

You didn’t reply, watching as Jonah came up to tap Edward on the shoulder. “Capt’n?”

He turned around, withdrawing his hands as Ryan came into view. “I can’t find my da’.” His voice was barely stable, cheeks stained with tear tracks. For a second, you both exchanged sorrowful glances.

Edward crouched down, ruffling his hair. “He’ll be around, lad. We just have to find him. Maybe he’s escaped and is planning his own rescue mission for us.”

Ryan nodded, wanting to believe him. Meanwhile, Edward stood and brought Jonah close, leaning to whisper in his ear. He withdrew, a willing but uncertain look on his face. Both retreated back into the small crowd.

“What did you tell him?” you asked.

“...That he has to look after Ryan now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut to stave off tears. “Shit.”

His fingers gently grazed your cheek. “Are you sure you’re alright? Does Marlowe know you’re here?”

Frowning, you shook your head. “I wouldn’t have thought so; if he did, I’d be stuck in there with you.”

His expression was nearly unreadable, but you could sense his anxiety. “I saw him come from here a few moments ago. What was he saying?”

“He…” Pausing for a moment, Edward swallowed. “Just Templar bullshit.”

You scoffed at the notion. “Of course he did. Look, I know how to get out of this.”

“I’ll take anything at this point.” Although his tone was sarcastic, you could tell that for the first time, he didn’t know what to do.

“He needs to die.”

Edward froze, brows narrowing, realising your intention. “No, Y/N, no.”

“‘No’ was an option in Nassau, but we don’t have that choice--”

“No, there must be another way -- “

“There is no other way! This is our only chance--”

“Are you hearing me?! He--”

“Do you understand the situation we’re in?!”

“No, Y/N, please--”

“All it takes is--”

“Just LISTEN to me!” He hissed through gritted teeth, grasping your arm to give it a sharp shake to stop you talking over him. The shock threw you into silence. Lowering his voice, he continued. “If you make so much as one mistake, he won’t just kill you; he’ll make you wish you were dead. Please, please, don’t do this.”

You were stunned. You’ve never seen him so adamant about staying your blade. The desperation in his tone threw you off; you’ve never heard him this serious -- this frantic -- before.

Edward grabbed one of your hands in both of his, bringing your knuckles to rest against his lips. “I love you… with everything I have; I can’t lose you. Not if I can help it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. Your heart broke as you watched a tear escape, trailing down his skin.

“Okay, okay.” You rarely saw Edward cry, and when you did, it was usually due to either drinking or laughing. He took a small, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself.

“We wait for Adé. Then we’ll think about Marlowe.”

“Alright, okay. Hey...” you caressed his jaw. “I’m okay. We’ll be okay. Trust me.”

You heard ruckus above the deck. “Someone’s coming.” Both of you broke away like shrapnel, Edward sitting himself on the floor while you mopped, facing the wall.

And that was how things were.

----------

A couple of weeks had passed since the crew was abducted from the Jackdaw. Everyone had been forced to labour on the deck, doing various jobs, from scrubbing floors to adjusting sails to everything in between. Adé was nowhere to be seen; whether he was hidden on deck and still strategising, or God forbid, something worse, you didn’t know.

A few didn’t make it.

Keeping your identity hidden was becoming increasingly difficult as time went on, of both being a woman and lover of the imprisoned Captain. You had, however, been able to gather intel of Marlowe from the crew that despised him. Each day further validated your belief that this man would be much better off dead; the crew have no loyalty except out of fear, and you could work with that.

You understood Edward’s fear, but it would be selfish of you to stand back and not do anything, watching as almost everyone on the ship suffered; if you did nothing, you would regret it for the rest of your days.

One particular morning was extremely hot, extremely dry, and extremely labour intensive. You were almost halfway through your journey, and you knew you were running out of time. Something had to happen, and soon, or you would never make it to the end of the year.

----------

Edward

After the first week, the crew joined the common sailors around the ship, performing average labour over hours. There was barely time to rest, eat, or drink; he could tell that this was wearing him down more than any form of torture.

The sun’s rays beat down on the nape of his neck as midday approached. Orders were to scrub the floor. He had a brush in his hand the size of a polishing brush, sharing a bucket with four other members of his crew. Each time he made eye contact with one of them, he’d give them a reassuring look; they’d all get out of this, he just needed a plan.

Doors were haphazardly flung open, Marlowe revealing himself from his cabin, followed by an entourage of his closest crew. They clumsily made their way across the ship, bumping into those scrubbing the deck, only to send them a look as if it was their fault in the first place.

One of them knocked over a bucket of water, spilling the liquid across the wood. Edward looked up to observe the situation. It belonged to his crew, including Jonah and Ryan. Marlowe stopped, his stare set on the ones kneeling, completely ignoring the real culprit. “You.” He crooked his finger towards Ryan. “Get up.”

With a petrified look on his face, Ryan stumbled to his feet, shaking like a leaf. “It wasn’t--”

Marlowe put his hand up, a warning to shut up. “It was your bucket, was it not?”

“Y-Yes, but--”

“So it was your responsibility, correct?”

“W-Well--”

“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, boy.”

“... Yes, sir.”

Marlowe turned to call to his second in command. “Get the cat.”

Edward’s heart stopped. By now, the ship had dropped to complete silence. They wouldn’t… he was only a boy. Marlowe was sadistic, but he wouldn’t be that evil, would he?

Before he could stop himself, Edward found himself standing protectively in front of Ryan. The child gripped onto his sleeve as he was pushed behind his Captain by the arm. “Why don’t you give a punishment to someone who deserves it?”

Marlowe held a neutral expression. “You’re right…” With a wave of his hand, arms snaked themselves around Edward’s, pulling him away from the others, restraining his movements.

Edward’s eyes flitted to Ryan for a split second; he was pulled to sit beside Jonah before he gained any more unwanted attention. Marlowe came to stand in front of him, unpinning his cape from around his shoulders. It fell into someone’s arms, who carried it away. Although his limbs were pulled harshly behind him, he held his head high, a hard expression in his eyes.

Undoing his cuffs, Marlowe smirked. “I believe you deserve twenty, in place of that boy…” Without warning, a fist came into contact with Edward’s sternum. If it weren’t for the arms holding him upright, the force would have sent his knees buckling. As he regained his breath, he glared at Marlowe. “Another twenty is in order for disobedience…” Another strike winded him again, this one seemingly worse than before. Keeled over, hair blocking his vision, he almost didn’t notice Marlowe leaning into his ear. “Then, about as many as I deem fit…”

Standing up straight, he shook out his hand. “Get him ready.”

Edward stumbled as he was half-dragged across the deck to the main mast. His chest and face collided with the post, the wood almost burning his skin. His arms were pulled taut above his head, rope quickly entwining itself around his wrists. He gave them an experimental tug, his heart skipping a beat when he found not even an inch of give.

Oh, fuck.

Hands gripped the back of his shirt, swiftly tearing it open. His muscles tensed as the sunlight hit his skin. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself with a breath.

The first strike licked his skin, the force shoving him against the post, ripping open stripes of flesh. Pain shot across his back. Biting a back a groan, Edward clenched his jaw. Sweat trailed down his temples, arms straining against the ropes.

Resting his forehead against the post, he prepared for the next lash.

But the strike never came.

----------

Y/N

Ooh, boy.

You were shocked at yourself for a moment, your hand firmly wrapped around Marlowe’s extended wrist, the cat of nine tails trickling Edward’s blood onto the back of your hand.

“I demand satisfaction.”

Gasps and muttering littered the crowd, and you kept to yourself the true realisation of what you’ve done.

You’ve challenged Marlowe to a duel.

“Don’t…” Edward looked over his shoulder, voice loud enough for only you to hear.

You spared him a side glance, urging him to quiet down.

Instead of the expected anger, Marlowe chuckled. “Alright; who demands it?”

You pulled off your face covering and hat, the sun hitting the skin on your face fully for the first time in two weeks. “Naturally, me.”

He hummed darkly, eyes narrowing with recognition. “Naturally.” He began to unsheathe his sword.

“I thought you were a man of tradition; are pistols not your forte?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

After a prolonged glance, metal clicked back into its leather hold. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, my dear.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“... Let’s get this over with.”

Your heart pounded. This was such a stupid move.

But it was also your only move.

Hiding your own fear, you held eye contact with Marlowe. With trembling fingers, you drew your own pistol, gifted to you by Edward from your last birthday. It was very much your lucky charm, and you hoped it wouldn’t fail you now.

“Ten paces, on my count.” You had no idea who the voice belonged to, nor did you have the current emotional capacity to care. Pulling the hammer down on your pistol, you turned your back to Marlowe. A blank was fired, the echoing shot a signal to start moving.

1…

2…

3...

It was almost deadly quiet.

4…

5…

6…

This was stupid, this was a bad idea. You won’t make it.

7…

8--

An unexpected shot rang out. You dropped to the floor, a pain beginning to blossom in your side.

“NO!”

Marlowe had cheated. Internally, you scoffed. Of course he did.

Although it stung, you were surprised at how bearable the pain was, given you just got shot.

Or did you?

You lay still, partly in shock and partly to plan what to do next.

“What are you all looking at? Get back to work!”

“Y/N? Y/N/N!” You heard Edward’s voice crack. “You cheating bastard!”

“Now, now, Kenway. Don’t forget the position you’re in.”

Floorboards creaked as someone approached. Pistol miraculously still in hand, you waited for as long as possible. Just a little longer....

A shadow shaded your face from the sun. Without thinking, you turned, aimed, and shot.

Marlowe stared back, glassy eyed, blood trickling down his nose.

A moment later, he collapsed.

No one dared to move, choosing to stare at the body in front of them, not quite believing that he was dead.

The monster of a man was dead.

After the adrenaline ebbed away, you sighed heavily. “Glad that’s over.” A hand came into view, offering assistance to stand up. You locked eyes with someone who should have made himself known a long time ago. “Adé!” Accepting the help, you smirked. “Great timing.”

You quickly moved to Edward to begin untying the knots around his wrists. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” he exclaimed, exertion clear in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you--”

“Worrying me?” One wrist freed, he deftly moved to the other. “When I saw you lying there, I felt as if I had died!”

You sighed. “I needed to do something, lest you became more bone than back.”

“That was the most stupid plan I’ve ever seen in my life.” His hands free, he paid no heed to his own wounds and immediately tried to inspect yours. “You were so irresponsible--”

Bringing his face to yours, you stopped him talking with a kiss.

He diffused immediately, finally processing that you were in front of him, alive, and Marlowe was the one dead on the floor. Melting into you, the tension in his muscles dissipated, replaced only with relief. He broke apart from you, burying his face in your neck, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“If the plan worked, it couldn’t have been that stupid,” you remarked.

“I’m so sorry.” His words were mumbled into your shoulder.

“You were looking out for me; I would have done the same if the roles were reversed.” You hugged him back, recoiling when he suddenly flinched in pain. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

“Shall we just accept each other’s apologies and call it a day?”

You laughed. “That would be good.”

Turning to the hands on deck, you raised your pistol in the air. “It’s over, lads! We can go home!”

You held your side, the pain greatly subsided under the amount of other emotions you were feeling; joy, relief, but also grief. Not for Marlowe, but for the ones that didn’t see this day.

You made a vow there and then; a vow to live your life the way they would have lived.

With joyful, carefree fun.

With the ability to live in the moment.

With gratitude for what you still have that they lost: For some, love, and for others, life.

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed x f!reader #edward kenway x reader #edward kenway x f!reader #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed oneshot #edward kenway imagine #edward kenway oneshot

159 notes · View notes

rafael-silva · 3 years

Text

we remain: a tarlos fic

Missing scenes from 2.12. Takes place after Carlos and Gabriel’s phone call.

“He on his way?”

Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”

Gabriel’s arrival after the fire leads to him taking Carlos and TK home, where Andrea is waiting for them with some much-needed motherly comfort. Reeling from the fire and its damage, Carlos feels heavy and lost. He leans on his boyfriend and TK is there to catch him. Carlos comes to a realization and with TK’s help and guidance, Carlos finds his footing again.

missing scenes, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, carlos needs a hug, kisses, sharing a bath, soft tarlos

4.5k | rated T | on ao3

*****

“He on his way?”

Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”

Carlos had zoned out of the conversation jumping between Judd, Owen, Tommy and Billy as they all stood by the opened ambulance doors. He’d hear TK’s voice whenever the young paramedic would say a word here or there, but Carlos’s eyes kept drifting back to what remained of his, and briefly his and TK’s, home. The stench of smoke and burnt wood hung heavy in the air around him. He almost felt lightheaded as he surveys what little remains of the life he built for himself over the past few years. Carlos feels like he’s free falling, the only thing keeping him from crumbling is TK’s hand in his, strong, supportive and there. Carlos holds onto his boyfriend with everything he’s got, both needing the support and needing to know that TK is really here and next to him.

He looses track of time, but soon, his ears pick up on a worried voice calling from behind, a familiar voice. But it seems so far away, so distant, like he’s underwater and someone is calling for him from above.

Carlos slowly turns around, his hand still clasping TK’s, and it’s then he registers his father rushing towards him.

“Carlitos,” Gabriel calls again, his voice coated with concern and his eyes blown wide.

“Dad,” Carlos whispers, his voice hoarse as he breaks away from TK’s side and takes a couple of steps to meet his father.

“Hey, son,” Gabriel breathes out and wastes no time in wrapping Carlos in a hug.

Exhausted, mentally and emotionally, Carlos falls against his father, closing his eyes as a tear falls down his ashy cheek. He gravitates closer to Gabriel and the older man tightens his hold him.

Carlos can hear Gabriel murmuring words of support and comfort and Carlos soaks it all up. But it doesn’t stop his body from shaking in his father’s arms.

“It’s okay, son, it’s okay,” Gabriel continues with his reassurances, and after a glance towards the ambulance and seeing TK standing near Judd, looking shaken but otherwise unharmed, he adds, “you’re both okay.”

Gabriel’s hold on Carlos doesn’t falter until Carlos starts to calm down. The officer draws in a breath and is about to say something but those words are interrupted by a rough cough tearing through his throat.

Gabriel frowns and he’s the one who pulls back slightly, eyebrows drawn together and closely watching his son’s face as the coughing fit continues.

“Carlos,” Gabriel says once his son can answer, “are you sure you don’t need to be in the hospital?”

“It’s fine,” Carlos replies around a grimace, pausing to suck in some air and swallows against his parched throat. “I got checked out, we both did, and it’s just minor smoke inhalation.”

“Son…” Gabriel tries again.

“We’re okay, dad.”

Carlos’s shoulders are hunched downwards like they were carrying the weight of the world and then some and Gabriel sighs, hating how worn out and tired his son looks. Carlos looks so deflated, so small and it breaks Gabriel’s heart.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, that you both are,” Gabriel expresses, his eyes not leaving Carlos’s. “I was so worried.”

Carlos nods, sniffing. “For a moment in there, I…I thought we weren’t going to make it out…the fire was everywhere, the whole house was…even in the bedroom. We were about to jump out of the window when Owen…” he trails off, his voice breaking. He bites down on his lower lip as fresh tears build in his eyes, as he recalls those terrifying moments. As he recalls the words he stumbled over, the fear echoing as he spoke, thinking it would be the last time he’d ever talk to TK.

Gabriel momentarily shuts his own eyes, his soul shattering at the mere thought of his son not making it out of the fire, and knowing that that was a very real possibility shakes him to his core. And even more so, knowing that he was partly responsible for this disaster, that his actions could have inadvertently caused his son to get hurt or worse, or caused his son to lose the man he loves. Gabriel knows he’s never going to forgive himself for this. His mind drifts back to the frantic call he had received from Owen less than an hour ago.

Gabriel had frowned slightly when the caller ID lit up with Owen’s name. Something stirred in the Ranger’s gut then, telling him that something was wrong.

“Owen,” Gabriel had picked up.

“Gabriel,” Owen replied, his strained voice confirmed Gabriel’s instincts. “Have you heard from Carlos recently?” He asked, forgoing any pleasantries.

The question made Gabriel sit up a little straight, any remnants of fatigue from their long day immediately evaporated from his bones. He took a quick glance at Andrea, who was moving to get into bed next to him, before he answered Owen.

“Not for a few hours…why?”

“Raymond, we know he wasn’t done. Remember what he said? That he’s going to take everything that’s important to me? I thought he was talking to me,” Owen paused and Gabriel heard the sound of the car accelerating.

Dread had begun to build in Gabriel’s gut as he waited for Owen to continue.

“I thought he meant the 126. But the fire at the station wasn’t what he was talking about. At least not completely. Gabriel…I didn’t realize it sooner but he was talking to us both.”

Gabriel’s blood ran cold and his heart dropped into his stomach when Owen’s word sunk in and he realized. “The boys…”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to reach TK but it keeps going to voicemail.”

“Hold on,” Gabriel said as he turned to his wife. “Call Carlos.”

It was Andrea’s turn to frown, confusion morphing on her face but the urgency behind her husband’s words had her instantly reaching for her phone and calling their son. She shook her head a few moments later.

“Voicemail,” she informs Gabriel, her voice thick with worry now.

“Try again.”

“You’ve reached Carlos, leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Carlos’s phone keeps going to voicemail, too.”

“I’ll keep trying TK, I’m on my way there now and we called it in,” Owen said.

“I’ll meet you there,” Gabriel replied as he got out of bed.

He turned to Andrea again once he hung up the phone, the feeling of helplessness sinking deeper into his body and he could see his own fear reflected back at him.

He didn’t really know where to begin, but he settled for, “the boys are in danger.”

He wasted no time in getting dressed and driving towards the condo, sending silent prayer after prayer that the boys were okay, that Owen would get there in time. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he gets a phone call with his son’s voice on the other end five minutes before he arrived. Relief washed over him, and the surge of emotions was enough to break his usually strong composure, making his hand shake as he gripped the steering wheel.

He breaks from his thoughts when he hears Carlos shakily exhale and a hand goes to cup Carlos’s face, Carlos instinctively leaning into his father’s palm.

“You made it out, son, you’re here and that’s the most important thing. We’ll figure out everything else, okay?”

Carlos nods again and starts composing himself, his hands going to hold at the blanket around him and adjusts it over his shoulders.

Gabriel gently pats his cheek and gives him a sad smile before withdrawing his hand and they make their way over to TK and the others.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Gabriel tells TK, lightly clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” TK responds, moving back to Carlos’s side.

“Owen,” Gabriel then extends his hand towards the fire captain, “thank you.”

Owen nods and shakes Gabriel’s hand. “It wasn’t just me, though.”

Gabriel then looks at Judd, Tommy and Billy. “Thank you all, truly.”

“Don’t mention it,” Judd replies. “Carlos is family and we do anything for family.”

Gabriel’s heart swells at Judd’s statement and at seeing that there’s a village of people looking out for his son.

Gabriel nods his thanks at Judd before turning to Tommy. “Captain Vega, thank you for being here.”

The Paramedic Captain nods. “Of course, I wanted to make sure the boys were okay for myself.”

“They’re going to be okay?”

“Dad…” Carlos groans.

“This is for your mother,” Gabriel turns to look at Carlos. “She made me promise to make absolute sure that you’re okay, from everyone.”

“They’re okay,” Tommy confirms. “I checked them both over myself, they’re going to be a little tired and weak for a few days, so they have to take it easy,” she pauses to look directly at TK, who shifts on his feet under the attention and leans into Carlos, “but they’ll be recovered in less than a week,” she continues. “They just need to rest.”

Satisfied, Gabriel nods. His eyes move back to Carlos, who’s looking at the few scorched frames that are still standing. Gabriel feels the guilt start to build again, both at seeing the ruined house and the broken look on Carlos’s face. He knows he’ll have to talk to Carlos about this, to tell him what caused this. He’s worried it’s going to cause another rift in their relationship they’ve only started to mend, but he knows that he’d deserve that if it happens. He kept information from his son and his son lost his home, his son almost didn’t make it out. His guilt is only increased at missing the true meaning behind Raymond’s threat. It was right there, right in front of him, but he missed it. He can’t help but wonder if only he had caught it before, if he had realized, maybe this tragedy wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Carlos wouldn’t look so crushed right now.

But he missed it, and it almost cost him his boy. It almost cost his son the man he loves. He’s standing in these ruins and his heart clenches in his chest. Those are things he’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life. And he’s going to do whatever it takes to earn his son’s forgiveness.

Seeing how heavy and worn-out Carlos looks, Gabriel decides to keep an eye on his for the time being, to make sure he’s okay, and here. To make sure both he and TK are okay. It’s the least he could do.

Feeling his father’s gaze, Carlos turns to look at him and Gabriel responds with placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ready to go?” Gabriel asks.

Carlos’s breath hitches a little, looking back at the house and then at TK. He knows there’s nothing to be done, the house is gone and he can’t do a single thing about it.

Besides, what remains of the house is still swarming with firefighters so he can’t go back in even if he wanted to. But still, it feels like his feet are nailed to the ground and he can’t move an inch, fixated on the burnt ash lying ahead of him.

TK appearing in his line of sight breaks Carlos out of his haze.

“Babe,” TK starts, both hands going to hold Carlos’s face. He caresses Carlos’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, not breaking their eye contact.

Carlos focuses on TK, on his green eyes that stand out against the black ash painting his face, and it helps calm the officer.

TK suppresses a cough before he continues. “I think you should go with your dad,” he voices. “I know being close to your parents tonight will help, baby. And I’m sure your mom wants to see you. I’ll be fine, I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

Carlos shakes his head at the implication that he and TK would be spending the night apart. It’s true, he knows being close to his parents will help him and his parents feel a little better, but he can’t be away from TK, not right now, not when he’s still picking up the pieces of his broken heart, when he can still feel the smoke getting thicker around them, when he can still feel the dread in his gut at the realization that this could have been the end for him and TK. Not when the fear is still coursing through his veins and the roar of the fire hadn’t completely quietened in his ears.

Carlos knows TK doesn’t want to impose and assume he can go home with Carlos to Gabriel and Andrea’s. He knows TK wants to give him what he needs. But the bottom line is, he needs TK. He won’t go anywhere without him.

Gabriel picks up on Carlos’s hesitation and jumps in. “TK is more than welcome to come with us. And he’s right, your mother is eager to see you, son. And I know she wants to make sure that TK is okay, too.”

Carlos relaxes ever so slightly at that, a little of tension in his shoulders fading away. He swallows and nods. Being apart from TK right now would have felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

With a look between TK and Owen, TK’s eyes saying I can’t leave him and a nod from the older man, it’s decided.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here,” TK promises and wraps Carlos in a hug, holding him just like he had earlier.

Carlos buries his face in TK’s neck, and underneath all the soot and sweat and ash, he could still smell the scent that is TK and it helps soothe his hammering heart.

“My phone, well,” TK tells Owen after he and Carlos separate, gesturing to the nearly empty space behind them. “I’ll text or call from Mr. Reyes’s phone.”

“Okay, son,” Owen nods, making a mental note to get TK a new phone and pulls him into a hug. “Take care of each other.”

With quick goodbyes to Owen, Tommy, Judd and Billy, the three men walk to the Ranger’s truck and climb in.

Carlos doesn’t have the energy to look back, but he steals a glimpse of what was once his home through the right side mirror. His heart feels heavy in his chest as the remaining structure gets smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing out of view. And it’s just then, it truly sinks in that almost everything he’s built for himself, is gone.

He sighs, leaning his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. He feels the pull of sleep but there’s still residual adrenaline pumping through his veins, keep him on edge. He settles for resting his eyes and hopes it will ease the sting from the smoke.

The drive to Andrea and Gabriel’s house is spent in silence. Carlos only opens his eyes when he feels the truck slowing and comes to a stop a few moments later, followed by Gabriel turning off the ignition to indicate they’ve arrived.

Carlos takes a moment to look at his parents’ house through the window before moving to get out of the truck. The front door is torn open and he spots his mother quickly walking towards him before his feet hit the ground.

“Ma,” Carlos whispers and a second later, he’s being held in his mother’s embrace.

“Oh, Carlitos,” Andrea sighs, taking on most of Carlos’s weight as he slumps against her.

There’s a considerable height difference between them, Carlos having to lean down to hug his mother, but in this moment, in Carlos’s current state, he feels like a small boy in her arms as he further curls against her and she feels like a giant holding him close.

She doesn’t let go of Carlos, a steady arm on his back, but she extends her other to TK when he appears behind her son. He reaches out to her, their hands connecting and she gives his hand a supportive squeeze, which TK responds to with a nod. He has missed a motherly touch.

“Let’s get you boys inside,” Gabriel’s voice breaks the silence, noticing how Carlos and TK are standing on wobbly legs.

Andrea nods and reluctantly pulls back from Carlos, her eyes still glued to his face and her heart breaks some more at noticing the black botches littering his skin and the redness sitting inside his eyes.

“We’re okay, Ma,” Carlos reassures her, his voice still scratchy and low. He gives her the best smile he could muster, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

She nods again and returns the smile, unshed tears shimmering in her brown eyes. “Come on, like your father said, let’s get you inside. I made some soup and fixed up your old room for you boys,” Andrea announces as she leads the men inside.

Carlos is engulfed with memories of his childhood as soon as he walks through the door. He feels his heart lighten a little and TK was right, being here does offer some comfort he so desperately needs.

TK immediately senses that through their cosmic connection, and squeezes Carlos’s hand. Carlos glances over his shoulder and gives TK a small smile.

“I knew you’d be coming here,” Andrea continues. “Call it mother’s intuition, but I knew.”

Carlos nods and looks back at TK and they have a silent conversation then, their eyes meeting and speaking a thousands words and thoughts through brown and green gates. Concern, reassurance, love, all radiating between them, an invisible string always connecting them.

“There are some fresh towels on the bed, and I’ll reheat the soup so it’s ready when you’re done cleaning up and getting changed.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Carlos gives Andrea another hug, drawing strength from her.

She kisses his cheek when they separate and then moves to hug TK. “Thank God both of you are okay.”

Andrea and Gabriel watch as Carlos slowly leads TK up the stairs and only when they disappear down the hall does Andrea turn to her husband.

“I’d feel better if they stayed here for a few days,” she says.

Gabriel nods. “Me too.”

“They’re shaken, but they’re going to be okay, they have each other and they have us and Owen, TK’s team…it’s going to be okay,” Andrea expresses.

Upstairs, TK follows Carlos into the room and closes the door behind them. Carlos takes TK’s shock blanket and discards both blankets into the laundry bin next to the door. With a heavy sigh, he drops on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and places his face in his hands.

TK wants to look around the room, to catch glimpses of Carlos’s childhood and teen years in the books and comics lined up on the shelves, in the posters hung on the walls, in the certificates proudly framed and the medals and trophies neatly organized together. But he pushes that to the side for now, he can do that later. Right now, Carlos needs him.

TK moves towards the bed and sits on Carlos’s left. He wraps an arm around Carlos’s hunched shoulders and draws him close, the officer easily going with him. Carlos removes his face from his hands and settles against TK’s chest, closing his eyes when he feels the kiss TK drops to the top of his head.

Carlos’s hair smells of smoke and ash but TK can smell his boyfriend’s mint-scented shampoo underneath it all. In more ways than one, that mint scent has become TK’s home.

There are no words to be said, not really, so they just stay like that for what seems like hours. TK holding Carlos, running a hand up and down his arm while Carlos listens to TK’s heartbeat as it echoes against his ear, strong and steady. And in its own way, this moment says everything that needs to be said.

TK is the one to break the silence.

“We should get cleaned up, babe,” TK whispers, not wanting to completely shatter the quiet. “And then we’ll have some soup and we’ll sleep.”

Carlos untangles himself from TK but remains close to him, their thighs and sides still touching. He knows sleeping won’t be easy, that there are likely a few nightmares awaiting in the dark, and he knows TK knows that too, but he doesn’t voice it. Instead he nods, eyes drifting to the towels next to them.

“Don’t worry about those, I’ll get them,” TK says, breathing through the urge to cough but a couple of cough escape through his lips. “Do you want to shower alone or together?”

“Together,” Carlos immediately replies, and a light blush colors his cheeks.

The blush draws a light, playful chuckle from TK, and the sound brings a small smile to Carlos’s face.

“Okay, babe,” TK nods. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

They navigate to the bathroom hand in hand, hearing a soft hum coming from downstairs as Andrea and Gabriel watch tv. TK closes and locks the door behind them, and they both start to undress. Their soiled clothes meet in a pile on the floor and Carlos’s eyes linger there for a few moments. As far as he knows, this is everything of theirs that survived the fire. A shirt, a hoodie, two pairs of sweatpants, two pairs socks and two pairs of shoes. That’s it. That is what remains of the life he, and then he and TK, had built. It sends a painful pang echoing through his chest.

The sound of the water spray hitting the marble brings him back from his thoughts, his head snapping up to see TK adjusting the water temperature.

He takes TK’s offered hand and they both step under the water, letting it run down their skin and wash away the physical evidence of the fire.

They take turns caring for each other, lathering up shampoo in their palms and running their fingers through each other’s hair as they wash away all the soot and ash and dirt. They brush soft kisses to each other’s body as they go along, kisses to shoulders, cheeks, hands, necks. Little reminders that they’re okay. They melt against each other, needing to know they’re both there, both giving and receiving in every way they can. They step out when the water starts to run clear and it gets a little cool, drying up with the towels and retreating back to Carlos’s bedroom.

Carlos opens the closet and retrieves some of the clothes he leaves there and lays them on the bed. Two pairs of sweatpants, an old police academy t-shirt for him and a similarly old police academy hoodie for TK.

TK gives him a smile when he notices the hoodie.

They change in silence and TK is about to head out but Carlos’s holds his hand to stop him. TK turns to face his boyfriend and moves back towards him.

“I just…I just need a moment,” Carlos explains, pushing out a small cough.

“Yeah, of course,” TK nods. “Whatever you need.”

Carlos hovers by the foot of the bed for a few seconds, shifting his weight between his feet and swallows. His hands begin to shake on their own accord and his head falls forward. TK instantly takes Carlos’s hands in his and applies a reassuring pressure to them, giving Carlos something to focus on and to help ground him.

“Baby, look at me,” TK pleads.

Carlos slowly lifts his gaze to meet TK’s beautiful eyes. He sees tears swimming against the green irises, sees the concern TK is carrying for him, sees TK’s own pain and fear.

“We’re okay,” TK vows. “I know this won’t go away overnight, I know there’s a lot for us to deal with, I know there’s a lot to feel. But I also know that we have each other, and we’ll rebuild our life together. I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. I swear it to you, Carlos, I’m not leaving your side. And everything you need to feel, feel it. I will be here to catch you.”

Carlos blinks, sending a tear rolling down his cheek. “I thought…when I thought we weren’t going to make it, I started missing everything we would be, everything we had yet to do together. I could see it so clearly, a flash of what we’d become together and then it was gone. I felt that loss, I felt the loss of us and it…” he shakes his head, “it hurt so much.”

TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead. “I know, babe, I was scared too, because there’s still so much we didn’t do together and I was terrified we’d never get to do all those things, that it would be over when it’s only just begun for us…but we’re here, we’re alive, and we have each other,” TK wipes at Carlos’s fallen tears.

Looking into TK’s eyes, feeling and seeing his love and his passion, and feeling the love and passion he has for TK flutter in his chest in return, Carlos reevaluates an earlier thought.

Those clothes aren’t the only things that survived the fire. They survived. Their love survived.

They lost their home, yes, but Carlos realizes then, maybe home is a person. And he knows in his heart now that he found his home in TK.

TK cards his fingers through Carlos’s wet curls and touches his forehead to Carlos’s as they breathe together.

TK leans in, brushing soft kisses to each side of Carlos’s mouth and then one to his lips. Carlos moves in for another kiss when TK starts to pull back.

“Ready?” TK asks when they eventually separate after a few more exchanges of gentle kisses.

Carlos takes TK’s hand and nods, feeling the warmth of TK’s touch seeping into his skin.

“Ready,” Carlos replies and lets TK lead them out of the room and down the stairs where Andrea and Gabriel greet them with soft smiles.

And watching the love of his life engaged in a light conversation with his mother as she serves their food, and feeling his father’s reassurance presence at his side, Carlos nods to himself.

His eyes move back to land on TK, who softly laughs at something Andrea said and Carlos’s own lips curl upwards into a smile at the sight.

Carlos knows it’s going to be a tough road ahead, but for the first time since discovering the fire, hope starts to blossom in his chest.

Sensing his gaze, TK turns, easily finding Carlos’s eyes. For a moment, the rest of the house disappears and it’s just the two of them as they exchange the smiles that are reserved only for each other.

TK turns to Andrea when she says something and with his eyes still focused on TK, Carlos thinks, yeah, we remain.

86 notes · View notes

staygoldponebone · 3 years

Text

To Help Cope

summary: soda’s twin sister- with the help of two-bit, steve, and dally- tries to help soda after his break up with sandy

“Breathe in,” you cooed, “and breathe out.”

“I can’t,” the words barely made it from Soda’s lips, “I can’t.”

Your brother lay in the fetal position on his bed, holding a pillow tightly to his chest. He shook with each whimper that escaped him, letting a heartbroken howl be suffocated in his pillow. All you knew to do was rub circles on his back like your mom used to. It always worked when she did it, but with you it just wasn’t the same.

“I wanted to marry her,” Soda hiccuped, “and she didn’t say a word…”

“Well, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still care about you or love you,” you explain. “Maybe she just needs some more time. I mean, marriage is a big decision, Soda.”

“She’s moving to Florida!” He buried his face. “She wants as far away from me as possible…”

“You don’t know that.”

Soda lifted his head in frustration. “Evie called her for me yesterday and Sandy said she would rather rip out her pinky toe than talk to me again.”

“Maybe-“

“Maybe, nothing.” Soda wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I know I’m stupid, but I’m smart enough to get the point.”

“Don’t say that!” You pulled your brother into a hug. “You’re smart, Soda. You’re smart and you’re kind. Don’t let some girl make you think differently!”

Soda was staring off as you let go of him. He spoke in a whisper, “She was the love of my life, y/n. What am I supposed to do now?”

You paused, your brows pushed together. “We’re gonna talk to her.”

Soda’s eyes snapped up at you. “No.”

“Why not? We want answers. You deserve answers! She can’t treat you like this!” You clapped your hands together. “Let’s go!”

“No.”

“But Soda, she-“

Soda put his hand on your arm. “I’m begging you, please no.”

You frowned at him.

“Please?”

You sighed, “Alright.”

Soda’s bedroom door swung open abruptly, accompanied by a prolonged burp. You looked to find Steve, Two-Bit, and Dallas making their way inside.

Soda fell back in his bed, putting the pillow over his swollen face. “Don’t you guys knock?!”

“Don’t worry, Soda. It’s just the Three Muske-Tools.” You got to your feet. “What the hell are you guys doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be out, scaring children or mooning buses or running over your dinner or something?”

“I already mooned like four buses on the way here, so my part’s been taken care of,” Two-Bit took the cake out of Dally’s hands.

“And I had roadkill on the way over,” Steve belched in your face.

“How charming.” You scrunched your nose, turning to Dally. “And what about you, Captain Douche? Scare any children?”

“It’s my day off.” Dallas sucked chocolate icing off his thumb. “We gotta help your brother.”

“How? By making him do stupid stuff until he’s in more physical pain than emotional pain?”

Dallas smirked, “Read my mind, Clone.”

Steve made his way over to Soda and jumped on him. “Let’s go, man! There’s gonna be a big drag race on the backroads and I wanna go see the competition!”

Soda sat up. “The backroads? Don’t cops sit back there?”

“Yeah,” you butt in, “ever since Tim got into that race that ended with one of those Brumly boys in a car upside down!”

“The kid was fine.” Dally shrugged. “Plus, I’m driving so no one’s got anything to worry about.”

Soda sighed. “Alright.”

“No, not alright!” You scolded the boys in front of you, “You’re all just taking advantage of him because he’s vulnerable!”

“We are not!” Steve protested. “I even got him this cool key chain! See?” He pulled out a keychain with a small flashlight attached and shined it in your face. “No advantage taken!”

You squinted. “Now you’re bribing him.”

“Listen, Clone,” Dally took a seat on Soda’s bed and pulled you down beside him. “I think it’s sweet that you’re lookin’ out for your brother. Really. But letting him stay in this room, wasting away, won’t do shit for him.” He turned to Soda. “So wipe off your running mascara and meet us outside.”

Dally grabbed the two others and shoved them out the door, turning back to you. “And you can come too, Clone. It wouldn’t hurt for you to loosen up some.” He winked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Can we get snacks?” Two-Bit put his head out the window. “I’m having withdrawals!”

“We’re almost there!” Steve exclaimed. “Can’t you wait?!”

“Would you guys cool it?” Dally’s face twisted in annoyance. “There’s a gas station in a couple miles, we’ll stop and get something there. We need gas anyway.”

A couple of miles and lots more complaining later, the five of you arrived at the small gas station in the middle of nowhere. Two-Bit and Steve went in first, both trying to fit through the door at the same time. They wouldn’t budge until Soda ran up behind them and pushed them through, laughing merrily.

The scene made you smile. You were happy to see your brother laughing, even if it was over something small.

“Those knuckleheads…” Dally shook his head, getting out of his car to pump gas. When he noticed you still sitting in the backseat, he frowned and knocked on your window.

You rolled it down.

“You’re not going?”

“Nah, I think I’m just gonna…”

You watched as an oddly dressed person made their way out of the station. They wore a trench coat and sunglasses with a scarf tied under their chin. As they neared a familiar car, locks of blonde hair unraveled from beneath the scarf. The person took a quick glimpse in your direction, removing their sunglasses.

You got out of the car.

#the outsiders #sodapop curtis #dallas winston #steve randle #two bit mathews #sodas twin sister #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders fanfiction

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twdbegins · 3 years

Note

when you can, can you do a Simon age gap smut, where the reader keeps turning down all the boys her age that try to get with her because she likes older men, can older men do it better and cuz ya know Simon is breathtaking, please and thank you

This got lost in my inbox somehow! So sorry for the wait!

Preferences

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Language.

Word Count: 1,651

“Are you saying it’s because I’m attractive?”

Being in your early twenties is a hard time for anyone. You’re now out of your adolescence years, being thrown into the deep end of adulthood and trying to navigate your way through life. Being thrown in a zombie apocalypse doubled your struggles.

“How many times do I have to tell you no?” You snapped at the puppy eyed guy that had been following you around for the whole day.

Travis was a sweet guy. He meant well and he was always kind to you, but you simply weren’t interested. He was rather persistent that you go out with him or even at least give him a chance. He tried to keep up with your fast pace as you whisked through the hallways.

“Come on, [Y/N]. I’d just like to go out with you sometime,” He attempted to persuade you; “It doesn’t have to be a romantic thing.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. That’s what they all said. It always ended up being a romantic thing, and you weren’t sure how many different ways you could turn him down easily before having to get aggressive.

“Travis. I said no and I mean no.” You said, stopping your fast walk and hoping he’d catch the sharp edge in your tone.

Defeated and dejected, Travis let out a heavy sigh and hung his head. He pushed past you to go sulk for the rest of the day. You didn’t like hurting anyone’s feelings, but sometimes the men around the Sanctuary just couldn’t take a hint. You leaned against the nearest wall, rubbing your forehead stressfully.

There weren’t many younger Saviors here. There were maybe 15 or so that were actually close to your age, and you had turned down probably about 8 of them over the course of your time at the Sanctuary. You just didn’t feel attraction towards any of them. You heard heavy footsteps approaching, accompanied with a low whistle.

“Damn, sweetheart. That’s the third one this week you’ve turned down.” The familiar voice bellowed.

You looked to see Simon striding towards you, his hand motioning to Travis who he had just passed by. You groaned.

“He’s the most stubborn one yet.” You announced, feeling a slight blush as Simon took the vacant spot next to you on the wall.

Truth was, if there were any man at the Sanctuary that you wanted the attention of, it was the infamous right-hand man. Simon was a real man. He was built, strong, intelligent, charming, and devilishly handsome. You had a gut feeling that he knew his way around a woman. If only there was a way you could put your theory to the test.

“Travis is a great guy.” Simon noted.

“Yeah, and so is Alan, Ron, and Cedric,” You said, referring to the other guys you had shut down; “I’m just not interested.”

“You know, most women would be flattered at the amount of attention you get.” Simon pointed out, crossing his arms and looking over at you with his dark brown eyes.

You could smell his cologne. It was faint, but it was heavenly.

“Yeah, but is it because they’re actually interested or because I’m the only available woman around?” You questioned aloud.

You were well aware that (other than Negan’s wives, who were strictly off limits) you were pretty much the only young, spry woman around. The Sanctuary was of male majority, and most of them were incredibly sexually frustrated, especially the younger ones.

“I was that age once. Trust me, there’s other reasons.” Simon said boldly, a grin appearing on his face.

You scoffed, but hid the deepening blush on your face. He was one smooth charmer.

“Are you saying it’s because I’m attractive?” You suggested, really hoping that’s what he meant.

He shrugged.

“Maybe. I mean, if I were in their shoes, I’d try like hell to even get you to spare me a passing glance,” He admitted; “I’m not so sure you’d want to get involved with me though. I’m not exactly 25 anymore.”

You felt a spark of thrill. You had a chance. This chance was too good and too perfect to pass up.

“You might be surprised.” You flirted, trying not to sheepishly smile.

He was surprised. He turned his frame towards you as realization washed over him.

“You saying that you have a thing for older guys?” He pondered.

“Maybe.” You repeated what he had said slyly.

He smirked, a dark chuckle erupting from his chest. He leaned his arm against the wall, drawing closer to you. He was dangerously close. Your lips almost touching.

“I thought I was crazy for thinking that you’re always eye fucking me,” He chided; “I guess my old intuition is still in working order.”

You laughed, slipping just your fingertips into his waistband. This is what you were interested in.

“I wonder what else of yours is in ‘working order’.” You hinted.

He hummed lowly.

“You sure you want to go for it?” He asked for consent.

“Hell yes.” You replied immediately.

His lips crashed into yours, rough kisses that were hungry and unexpected. His hands were under your ass in seconds, hoisting you around his waist and carrying you to his room that wasn’t too far from the hallway you were in. You were making out like a mad, horny teenage couple that hadn’t seen each other for a long summer. You had never been in his room before, but you didn’t care much for looking around at his decor.

He tossed you onto the bed, earning a squeak from you when your back hit the mattress. Both of your clothes were strewn across the room, your naked bodies pressed against one another warmly. His lips were hot on your neck as he sucked harsh hickeys, the slight pain and immense pleasure were a perfect mix. Your moans and the sounds of his lips on your skin were the only sounds in the room.

“You’re already so wet.” He said, reaching and rubbing slow circles onto your clit.

You whimpered out, his fingers working magic on your sensitive sex. He slipped two of his fingers inside of you, his fingers curled and massaged your inner walls, feeling how she was coated with slickness. You had almost forgotten that this was supposed to be about him, but that didn’t stop you from rolling your hips as you began to grind into his fingers.

“Shit. Oh...” You breathed out as he pumped his fingers and curled mercilessly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He growled into your ear; “You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of seeing you like this. You deserve someone who knows what they’re doing to make you feel good.” He said, bringing you close to the beginning of your climax.

But you didn’t want to finish just yet. You stilled his hand, making him withdraw his fingers. He looked you dead in the eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You felt prideful when he did so.

You purposefully moaned in his ear, sending him over the edge. He was between your knees, having your legs around his waist in seconds. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you firmly around him. He scanned over your naked body that was sprawled out on the bed.

Seeing you laid out underneath him, squirming with expectation was arousing and maddening. There were so many things that you did (some intentional and some not) that drove him absolutely wild. You way you bit your lower lip whenever you caught him staring at you, only using your imagination to wonder what he was thinking when he looked at you.

He pushed his shaft through your folds, relishing and groaning at the feel of you once more. Your alluring sigh signaled him to start moving, pulling out and back in at a rapid pace. Your inviting sounds were music to his ears.

You pushed your body down to meet each of his thrusts, allowing him to hit just the right spot. You could feel the pent up tension that he had built up with each rough entrance back into you. He held your hands above your head, his other hand pinning your hips to the mattress.

He pulled out again and one particular slam back into you caused you to moan louder than normal, causing Simon to speed up even more. Your chest bouncing with his every thrust. You were completely focused on the feeling of him dragging in and out of you. He let out a noise that resembled a growl that sent vibrations all through your body. Every cell in your body felt like it might combust with pleasure.

“You’re such a good girl. Taking me so well,” He said thrusting hard and pounding back into you; “I didn’t know what I’d been missing out on.”

Your face was contorted with ecstasy and pleasure. He watched how your breasts bounced every time he railed back into you, your loud sounds were music to his ears.

“You feel so fucking good. There’s no way Travis could’ve fucked me this good.” You praised, meeting his thrusts halfway.

Simon moved your leg over his shoulder and pounded into you even harder now. You almost cried out at the new angle. Your other leg tightened around him, his dick twitching deep within you.

You involuntarily clenched around him with a pitchy cry, releasing and hitting your high. He felt his own spiral, thrusting a time or two more and spilled his release into you. He groaned in solace, pulling out of you. Your hearts were pounding and your minds were racing. You looked up at him and smiled with joy as the look of euphoria in his eyes. You persuaded him to fall next to you so he didn’t totally collapse.

You grinned at him breathlessly.

“Yeah. I am definitely into older guys.”

#simon #simon x reader #simon twd #the walking dead simon #twd simon #simon x reader twd #simon the walking dead #simon twd x reader #simon twd fanfic #simon twd imagines #twdbegins

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

Keeping a Secret - Part 7

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.4k

Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist

[a/n]

I’m so sorry for the delayed update. Things are happening in my personal life that my writing has incredibly slowed down.

To that anon who was asking for updates, I’m sorry if I made it seem like you were rushing me (in case you weren’t). Sometimes, I just tend to feel so pressured that I easily project that to others.

Y’all been excited for this. Here you go, a drunk Tsukishima to make up for the slow update.

AO3 link is on the masterlist in case Tumblr crashes on you from how long this update is.

Your eyes widen at the current state of Tsukishima. You look around warily, checking if there’s any mutual classmate you know who is around. But with how dim the club is, the attempt to do so is futile.

“Tsukishima…” you protest while prying his hands away from your waist.

“We’re in public!” You hiss at his behavior, but he’s completely unfazed. His hands keep creeping back at the spot they were rooted at.

His facial expression doesn’t falter either. He’s still wearing that silly grin that looks nothing like his usual ones. “So? Didn’t you hug me publicly, right in the middle of the Sendai Gym?” he counters with a cocked brow as his elated grin turns to a clever smirk.

Oh God. What has Tsukishima turned into? He’s like one of those guys who hit on you, but the difference is you’re actually flustered by it.

Even with his hands and gaze glued to you, you turn to the bartender. “How long has he been here?” you shout. “A while now,” the bartender shouts back.

You glance at Tsukki’s consumed glasses again. It’s only one glass and two shot glasses. How can he be this drunk already?

You don’t wonder too long before figuring it out. Tsukishima’s definitely a lightweight, shown by his level of intoxication at the moment even though in reality, he hasn’t had much to drink.

Why did he even drink in the first place? He said he doesn’t see the point of parties. Why is he here getting himself hammered? You grimace when you realize that there’s training tomorrow. You’ve scolded members before for such behavior and now they know better than to get wasted when there’s practice the next day.

You did not expect such irresponsibility from Tsukishima, who’s always exhibited exemplary behavior.

“You should go home.” You mean to sound strict, but with his body being a bit too close, your voice falters.

He cups the back of your head and pulls you so that his lips are ghosting against your ear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he says haughtily.

It’s a very familiar scenario with a very different Tsukishima holding you in place. If he’s his usual self (sober and pissed off at you), you’d be teasing him for coming to this club. Instead, you’re the flustered one as his fingers brush your nape while his breath fans your ear.

“G-go home, Tsukki,” you stutter as you feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“But why?” His hand on your nape travels down on your spine. “Didn’t you say I was welcome to go here?” The ends of your hair prickle up as he presses the warmth of his lips on your cheek when he pulls away slightly.

It was almost the same scenario when you first saw him in this very same club - the whispering, the closeness, the incredible urge to feel his mouth on yours. The difference is Tsukishima himself. Unlike before when you two were fighting the pull of the temptation, this time, it’s worse because of his suggestive demeanor.

“Stop it,” you chastise him with a little bit more conviction.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He withdraws until his lips are only an inch away from yours.

You take a deep breath, collecting yourself before pushing yourself away from him. “Go home, Tsukishima. You have training tomorrow!” you shout to make sure he hears you without leaning close to him.

He looks at you like he doesn’t understand shit. His tipsy grin is now wiped off, replaced with an empty, clueless Tsukishima staring at you. You don’t falter though. You continue glaring at him. Luckily, it seems to sink in his head after a few seconds as he finally stands up.

At the first step he takes, he staggers like a high school student who got drunk for the first time. You start to feel bad for him because he looks like he really is struggling with it while continuing to fiddle with his glass as if that’s the cause of his apparent dizziness.

You position yourself underneath his arm and help him balance himself.

You groan as you wobble when he rests some of his weight to you. How can you momentarily forget that he’s a professional athlete weighing more than 160 lbs? You’re always surrounded by tall men, and this has made you think that that height is normal, when in reality they can crush you in a snap.

You realize that Tsukishima is a lot more busted than you thought. You can see he’s actually trying to walk normally but is failing miserably.

You’ve already talked to most of your friends so you don’t mind helping him get back home. Not that it matters. You’d still be helping him get back home even if you hadn’t. Aside from being one of your players, he’s also your study partner. You can’t just leave him be.

With a very drunk Tsukishima on one shoulder, you hail a taxi and carefully make him sit inside. Your initial plan is just getting him a ride home, but looking at him now, you’re not sure if that’s the best idea. He might suddenly pass out. Who knows what will happen to him then?

You sigh as you get yourself inside the cab as well.

You give the driver the address of the Tsukishima’s while he rests his head on top of yours. “This car is moving too much,” he complains with discomfort crisp in his voice. The vehicle is rather stable. It’s the alcohol in his head that’s making things shaky for him.

Instead of letting him lean on you, you carefully settle his head against the headrest of the car seat so he’s leaning back instead of sideways. You kneel instead of sitting so you can use your hands to keep his head steady because he’s too darn tall.

After a short while, he lets out a sigh of relief from the stability your hands provided. His features are more relaxed now that his brows are no longer scrunched up and his lips no longer pressed in a strained manner.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head a bit to look at you. He grasps one of your wrists as he gives you a faint smile that doesn’t resemble anything he’s given you, not even the dumb one he did at the club.

It’s a tender and genuine smile that softens up his usually stern face. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Yes, you’re well aware. You hear it all the time that the word lost any shred of novelty it once had.

But when Tsukishima says it, your heart skips a beat. He isn’t flirting with you. He’s looking at you like he’s stating an observation he finds pleasing to him, like you’re a sight he’s truly enjoying to see.

You almost let go of his face from the uncanny feeling on your chest that’s making you uneasy, but you halt yourself when you remember that this guy’s world will spin faster than Jupiter’s rotation if you let him be.

You let out a deep sigh to calm yourself down.

“I know,” you respond firmly to hide the fuzzy mess that you are on the inside.

“If I’m not so fucking plastered, I’d kiss you.”

You suck in a sharp breath upon hearing it, the yearning to do so creeping up fast behind you.

You can do it yourself. You’re not dizzy. It’d be so easy. His face is already in your grasp anyways. You just have to lean forward a bit and you can easily grant him what both of you want.

Should you?

It’d just be one of your harmless kisses, right? You’ve done it countless times before. One more shouldn’t hurt.

“We’re here.”

You’re harshly brought back to sanity by the driver’s cue that you’ve reached his home. You’re thankful for it because you were really about to kiss him even though you’re the one who said that the deal is no more. You would have slapped yourself if your hands aren’t full.

You pay the driver and help Tsukishima get out of the car.

You get under his one arm again and assist his steps so he doesn’t stumble. Once you reach their doorstep, he gets his keys from his pockets but scuffles trying to insert it in the keyhole. Instead of getting pissed, he laughs sardonically and faces you.

“Look, y/n. The key is fucking stupid,” he says, completely believing that it’s the key’s fault and is actually snickering at the inanimate piece of metal’s ‘incapability’ to shoot itself where it needs to be.

You can’t help but laugh. Even at his drunken state, he still roasts things he deems doltish. It’s funnier cause he talks a bit dopey while insulting the innocent key. He’s still failing after a while so you volunteer to do it.

“I can do it,” he says seriously and on his next attempt, he does get it in. Then he looks at you and smirks proudly. “See?”

You shake your head and roll your eyes at how absurd he’s acting, but the grin on your face remains. He is still very much himself. It’s just that his rudeness is comically misplaced. Yet as entertaining as it is to watch, you can feel the strain in your shoulders and upper back already.

You open the door and hope that a relative is somehow still awake to take Tsukki off your hands. Still no luck for you as you’re greeted with nothing but silence.

“Where’s your room?” “Upstairs, left.”

Great. Can this get even worse? Your original plan is just getting him a cab. Now you have to personally walk him to his room since he’s hopeless treading on a flat surface. What more on a flight of stairs?

You ask him to close the door and lock it before you head up. “Alright, Tsukki. Let’s get you in bed,” you tell yourself as a motivational push to get the task done.

You huff every step you take because he really is too heavy for you and you’ve had a long night already. You’ll be sure to reprimand him tomorrow for this.

“Y/n?”

You lift your head up from wooden steps and see Akiteru at the top end of the stairs.

“Aki-san!” You can’t be more thankful upon his arrival.

He urgently goes to you, stopping a few steps up from you and Tsukki.

“What happened to him?” Akiteru asks concernedly.

“He’s…” you try to think of a more decent word but you can’t think of any at the moment so you tell it as it is. “He’s drunk,” you admit.

Akiteru’s expression is even more incredulous than yours was back in the bar. He’s looking at you and Tsukki interchangeably.

“You... you got him to drink?”

You don’t know if you’re offended or amused because Akiteru looks like he’s extremely grateful that you caused this to his brother.

“I-uh... no. I found him like this in the club. I think you should take him already,” you suggest. You’re about to lift Tsukki’s arm off of you when you feel him resist. When you turn to him, he’s already looking at you with displeasure. “You said you would get me in bed,” he states.

Is he fucking serious? Hell no. You have no reason to do so when Akiteru is here already. “Aki-san, please,” you implore while glaring at Tsukki.

“Umm... you heard him, y/n.”

You harshly turn your head at Akiteru from disbelief. When your gaze lands on him, he’s sporting an innocent smile, a stark contrast to knowing that the intention behind it is not so innocent.

“Aki-san?” your voice rises a bit from bewilderment at what he’s insinuating.

“Why do you call Nii-chan by his name?” Tsukki slurs as he asks.

“Huh?” You eye Tsukki exasperatedly. You have yet to absorb what Akiteru is implying and Tsukki is already adding up to the initial question mark hanging on your head.

“You just met him and you already call him Aki-san. We’ve been working together for three years, yet you don’t call me Kei. Not even when we ki-”

You cover his mouth and laugh awkwardly and loudly. “Tsukki! What are you talking about?” You make yourself sound clueless as you give him a very subtle glare while smiling, hoping that he gets your warning.

“When you what?” Akiteru prods, his eyes still friendly, but with amusement lurking beneath them.

You form a smile but with Tsukki’s weight and his intoxicatedness that’s causing him to babble nonsense, it comes out distressed.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” you persist. “I should really go now. It’s really late, Aki-san. Please,” you press on.

“You can stay,” Tsukki suggests with a faint smirk.

“I agree with Kei. It really is late. We’d be responsible if something happens to you,” he explains kindly, but you know his concern is only second place to what he’s actually thinking. You can tell he’s rooting for you and his younger brother.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for you,” Tsukki announces with his voice a bit garbled.

Akiteru laughs at Tsukki’s remark but thwarts it immediately as he eyes you apologetically. “Sorry about my brother,” he whispers with one hand covering his mouth.

“Just sleep with me in my room.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, it does. Your mouth gapes at Tsukki from how he just uttered that inappropriate statement right in front of his older brother.

You turn to Akiteru defensively. “It’s not what you think.”

Akiteru’s courteous smile doesn’t faze as he says, “I’m not thinking anything, y.n.”

The whole situation makes you want to let go of Tsukki’s arm and jump off the railings of stairs. Then, you’ll wake up in the morning and find that you’ve escaped this entire scenario altogether.

You sigh and wave an imaginary white flag in your head. “I’ll make sure he’s fine,” you say to Akiteru.

You see his eyes light up. Since you and Tsukki are already occupying the narrowness of the stairs, Akiteru can’t go to Tsukki’s other arm to help you. Instead, he goes back up and opens a door on the left.

He keeps it open until you reach what you surmise is Tsukki’s room.

Once you get inside, you hear Akiteru speak, “Thanks for taking care of my brother, y.n.” He closes the door before you can say anything.

Rather than minding Akiteru, you pour your attention on Tsukki, getting him to sit down with his head leaning against a wall.

You feel the instant relief on your shoulders with Tsukki’s weight off them. However, you can’t ease up yet. You have to go to their kitchen and get this guy some water.

You’ll complain later or tomorrow, but for now, you’re going to focus on getting shit done.

You’re about to head out of his room when the door opens itself, causing you to yelp from shock.

“Sorry,” Akiteru apologizes with a hushed voice. In his hand is a huge bottle of water which he extends to you with congenial fondness.

“Goodnight,” he says prior to closing the door.

Akiteru is pleasant, but he can’t be more obvious on how he eminently pairs you up with his brother.

You don’t delve into it further as you need to get Tsukki all fixed up. You walk over to where you seated him and make him drink the water Akiteru gave.

You need to make sure he’s not totally hammered when he sleeps. You don’t want him with a hangover tomorrow and skip training when the next match is just a week away.

He seems in need of the liquid too since he quickly finishes the bottle as soon as he takes it. He clumsily slams the empty bottle on his desk and stands up precariously.

“Woah there. Where are you going?” you ask imperiously.

“Bathroom,” he answers. He tips his head towards you as a corner of his lip shoots up. “Why? Care to join me?”

You want to fight back with a sarcastic ‘No, thank you,’ but he still walks a bit funny so you can’t exactly let him be. You sigh as you take his arm again and aid him as he walks.

“Only until the door,” you patiently answer.

As much as you want to be a smartass like him, you need the Frog’s starting middle blocker to never miss a training. You can’t have him tripping, falling flat on his face, or accidentally bumping on a wall.

You let him inside the restroom. Luckily, they have one on this floor so bless your shoulders and upper back. When he comes out, he looks a little less disoriented and his sense of balance is somehow stable with how he’s standing.

You follow him as he goes back to his room. To your shock, he immediately crawls to bed without changing. ‘Disgusting,’ you comment mentally. He came from outside, a club specifically. How could he not bother changing?

“Aren’t you going to change clothes?” you ask, your grossed out tone clearly heard.

“I’m tired and I’m still slightly dizzy,” he says nonchalantly.

He begins settling down while you’re standing there, tired and dumbfounded. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” He glances around his room, probably trying to recall where he put an extra mattress. Only two seconds later, he gives his bed one firm tap as if to tell you that you’re sleeping beside him.

You close your eyes from exhaustion and exasperation combined. You don’t want to sleep next to Tsukishima but it has been one hell of an evening already that you’ll take what you can get. He’s already sobered up a bit anyway. You’re at ease that he’ll keep his hands to himself.

You walk to his drawers and find a pair of loose clothing he can comfortably sleep in. Then you stride to his bed and give it to him. He looks at the clothes you’re holding then at you.

On a regular day, he wouldn’t dare sit on his bed without changing after spending time outside.. Tonight is the only exception because he truly isn’t up to the task anymore. He’ll just change his sheets tomorrow.

He only wants to lie in bed and shut his eyes already. But with you handing him a change of clothes, he has no reason to not to do so anymore.

No reason but to get back at you for giving him hell when you got yourself sick and passed out with only him present to take care of you.

“I told you I’m dizzy,” he says without accepting the clothes you’re offering him.

“Don’t tell me I have to change your clothes myself.” He can hear you’re about to lose it and it’s spurring him on even more. He hides his smirk and shrugs indifferently, leaving it to you to decide that for yourself.

You palm your face furiously and it’s almost breaking his resolve to keep a steady face. You prove to have a sensible amount of control on your temper as you recover after one excruciating deep breath. He’s not exactly surprised though. You’ve been a manager for three years now and handling male athletes is not exactly a walk in the park if one has temper problems.

You put one knee on his bed as you start tugging his shirt up. “Why did you even drink?”

“Why do you care?” He answers the same way you did when he asked why you bother going to parties.

“Because I’m the one taking care of you!” you almost yell as you dress him in a new shirt. When you successfully change his shirt, you glance at his pants then to his eyes. You didn’t have to utter a word to let him know that you don’t plan to change that particular piece of clothing.

He doesn’t falter though. If he tasted hell because he had to undress your top while you were passed out, he couldn’t miss the chance to return the favor.

“So? You didn’t hear shit from me when I had to take care of your sick ass,” he says, pouring salt to the right burn so he can push you to go along with his scheme.

You clench your jaw as you avert your eyes from his.

“You were a real handful, you know that?” he continues on. “Come to think of it. You’ve heard not a single complaint from me about that night. Should I lecture you now?” His lips betray his apathetic facade when a smirk forms on his face.

You smile at him with utter displeasure but don’t say anything as you start unzipping his pants, your spiteful eyes never leaving his amused ones.

“I’d love it if you help by lifting your sarcastic butt,” you sound distressed as you try to pull down his pants.

He grips both your hands that are tugging on his waistband. He props himself up a bit, leaning down and closing in on your stunned yet still delightful face.

“Why do you look so surprised? You asked me to help you, right?” he asks with a subdued voice as he tugs his pants down.

You turn your face away from his and don't answer his question as you continue what he started. His eyes never trail off your features until you successfully take his pants off

With your face still turned away from his, you grab the shorts you took earlier and toss it to his face. “Seems like you’re not dizzy anymore,” you say as you head to his closet.

For no fucking reason, he’s laughing elatedly. He might not be dizzy anymore but he can still feel the aftermath of the drinks he rushed drinking at the club. Is this why people get drunk? Because even the most trivial things are funny?

No. It’s because he’s drunk. It’s because of how entertaining you look when you’re a flustered mess. Before you looked away, he caught the wild blush on your cheeks, the stir in your eyes, and the way your hands trembled as you undressed him.

Initially, he wanted you to put on the shorts you got for him as well. But he figures he can show you mercy and do this one on his own since he already had his fun seeing you in a flustered state.

You open his closet and pick your own set of fresh clothes to borrow. Without saying anything, you step out of his room and head towards their restroom.

The first thing you do inside is check your reflection and goddamn it--you’re blushing like a teenager about to lose her virginity.

You groan frustratedly as you softly slap your cheek with your free hand. Tsukishima is tipsy and is just messing with you. Why do you have to be so affected?

You turn the faucet on and hurriedly wash the heat off your face. When you feel like you’ve cooled off, you look up at the mirror to check if you’re no longer a bursting tomato.

You sigh with relief when you see that your face is back to normal. You turn off the faucet and begin changing to Tsukki’s clothes.

As expected, everything is loose. His shirt is almost a dress. Actually, it already is with how it’s draping just above your knees. You had to use your hair tie to knot a portion of his shorts’ waistband for it to not to drop on your ankles.

It’ll be uncomfortable sleeping with lumped fabric on your hips but you’d prefer that than not wearing anything underneath his shirt.

You neatly fold your clothes and go back to his room. Another wave of relief hits you when you see him lying down with his eyes closed already. His glasses are already off too. Despite the strenuous and outrageous turn of events earlier tonight, you’re actually glad that he’s safe and sleeping soundly.

Hopefully tomorrow, he’s going to be fine and forget the shit he pulled on you tonight.

You take a deep breath as you sit on his bed. Fortunately, his bed is wide enough for you to have some decent amount of space away from him. He also has another pillow so you can sleep comfortably with one of your own. You just pray that it won’t be so cold because there is only one blanket.

Oh well. You’ll cross the bridge when you get there.

You get his extra pillow and lie down. Once your back hits the soft mattress, your eyes shut close on their own. You feel the weight in your legs and back settle as your body starts to relax. You know that any moment now, you’ll fall asleep so you turn to your side with your back facing Tsukishima.

You were right. You already feel your consciousness drifting off not long after, only to be disrupted by an arm sliding over your waist.

“What the-”

“My head hurts.”

Even if Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, you already know how close he is with warm breath fanning your nape. You’d scoot away but you’re already at the edge of his bed.

You harshly remove his arm and face him to give him a not so peaceful piece of your mind. You toss around to face him and when you do, you forget your annoyance as you’re met with a very distressed Tsukishima. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed together in almost a straight line.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you gently brush his hair away from his forehead.

“Like someone’s driving a fucking nail on my head,” he spats out with the crease on his brows getting deeper.

You gently slide one hand under his head and so you can massage his temples with both thumbs, hopefully it’ll soothe him even just a bit.

Thankfully, the crease on his brows and the tension around his nose and mouth eases up. “Where are your painkillers?” I ask softly. “I’ll go get one for you.”

He opens his eyes, a certain tenderness dancing in his orbs while he stares right onto yours. “Just stay here,” he utters delicately as he gradually slides his arm back to your waist. With a firm but still gentle grip on the small of your back, he draws you closer to him until there’s almost no space between your bodies.

This is different, way too different than he was earlier. And to be honest, you’d prefer that over this. This… it’s something even you cannot name.

Your thumbs stop moving on their own accord as he inches his face closer. You almost gasp for air with how heavy and thick it suddenly feels.

“Uh..,” you trail off without even saying anything. You just thought if you said something, it would break the tension. However, it only made it worse.

“Hmm?”

You seem to be the only one uncomfortable as he’s still gazing intently at you like it’s nothing.

“W-Why are you staring at me like that?” What the hell did you stutter for? This is just Tsukishima, goddamnit.

“It hurts less when I do.” You’d think he’s joking but there’s no trace of derision anywhere on his face. He removes his hand from your waist only to rest it on your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw as he says, “I don’t like that I can’t see you clearly right now.”

It’s too much.

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode from how fast your heart is pounding. You want to retract your hands away from him, but you can’t move them because having them there makes him feel better.

Then he looks down on your lips, a knowing look that you’re very much familiar with.

“Tsukki, we can’t do this,” you whisper, causing his eyes to go back on yours.

“What are we doing anyway?” he asks as if he’s not aware of what he’s stirring in you.

“You know what,” you insist. There’s no way he doesn’t.

“I don’t. Maybe if we actually do something, I’ll know what you’re talking about.”

You squint at him with disbelief, not buying the innocent act of him not grasping the situation when he’s the one causing it. “We already broke that deal, Tsukki.”

“Then let’s bring it back,” he counters right off the bat.

You sigh while shaking your head disagreeably. “You’re drunk,” you state plainly, reminding yourself of this fact to rationalize the way he’s behaving, to calm the havoc that he’s inciting in you.

You put your thumbs back to work and knead his temples again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees as he closes his eyes again. He lets out a reposed sigh, then removes his hand from your neck.

You can now rest easy as the temptation backs away himself. You keep at it, observing his stern features which are getting more lax while you continue massaging him.

Finally, he does as you want him to do: sleep and keep his hands to himself.

So why is there a nagging emptiness brimming inside you? You’re not actually disappointed, are you?

“Tsukki,” you utter his name in hushed tones, hoping that he won’t respond.

With his eyes still shut, you thought he wouldn’t. Yet, he answers just as softly as you called him. “What?”

You sigh. Why is he still awake? He could’ve been asleep already or just stayed quiet and ignored you. Then you’d be able to sleep soundly knowing that you didn’t do anything that you could possibly regret in the morning.

You stop encircling your thumbs on his head and rest your palms on his cheeks instead. You lean closer to his face.

“If you change your mind in the morning, forget this happened,” you whisper before you succumb to the snares of attraction you’ve been running away from since you saw Tsukishima in the bar.

You capture his lips, gradually easing into it, giving yourself time to retreat before he responds. Apart from you not wanting to, he doesn’t give you much time at all as he puts his hand back on your neck and returns the kiss with a guttural sigh.

He eagerly nips on your lips, ardently moving against them as if he’s been wanting to do this for a while already. You respond with the same passion, pressing yourself closer to feel his body firm against yours.

He moves his hand from your neck to the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair as he coaxes your mouth open with the flick of his tongue on your lower lip.

You immediately yield to him, parting your lips so you can have more of what he’ll give. When he slips his tongue in and grazes yours, you taste the slight tang of alcohol. It’s very subtle, barely there, but it’s causing a buzz in your senses that no other liquor has provided.

It’s only a kiss, but you know that this is unlike the previous harmless ones you’ve shared with him.

Your soft moans on his mouth and his lips growing greedier with each nip tells you that this is one very dangerous kiss.

You drag your hand from his cheek to his chest to push him away, but he suddenly tugs your hair down, giving himself access to the column of your neck. This time, rather than nudging him away, you clutch his shirt tightly, feeling his mouth trail along the sensitive skin of your neck.

“T-Tsukishima,” you whine as his hand travels down your ass, his huge palm and long fingers tugging on the fabric as he gives one cheek a firm squeeze.

“Hmmm?” he hums on your skin before you feel his tongue swipe down on your collarbone.

Your skin is on fire but you feel like you’re drowning. Everything he’s doing is compelling you to want to go further than this, to let him touch you beneath the clothes you’re wearing, to let him kiss you wherever he pleases.

Tsukishima wants nothing but precisely that. He’d blame the alcohol, but nothing’s more intoxicating than the sound of your whimpers and your body deliciously pressed against his. His clothes hanging loosely on you only adds to his delirium.

He knows this is going to lead to something incredibly stupid and totally reckless, but stupid and reckless has never felt this delectable. How can he not indulge himself when the promise of your rapture is just within his grasp?

He just needs to know if you’re willing to cross the obscure boundary of the deal you once had.

He puts his free hand to use, sliding it underneath the baggy shirt you’re wearing. He carefully skims his hand up, grazing his fingers just below your bra. Meanwhile, his other hand on your bottom goes a bit further down, only for him to slip his hand inside the oversized shorts and feel your almost bare ass.

With his other hand feeling empty, he moves his palm up and kneads one supple bosom.

“Ah,” you clench his shirt tighter as you mewl from his touch. Even though he can’t see you clearly, your voice and the way your arch your body even closer to him is enough to cause a tent to form in his shorts.

He withdraws away from your neck and gets back to your lips. With his hand on your behind, he lugs you closer and grinds his erection on your thigh, letting you know how much you affect him, how much he wants you right now.

Then your body stills along with the quivering of your lips.

He pulls back to look at you and even with his blurred vision, he can sense that you’re frightened. “What’s wrong?” Just a while ago, you were melting within his embrace. Now, you’re shaking like a leaf.

“I-” Your breath hitches when you speak. “I can’t do this,” you whisper weakly even though you’re the one who instigated the kiss that led to this.

Although he’s confused about the sudden change of heart, he doesn’t push it. He immediately removes his hands off your delicate parts and puts considerable space between you.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to seem so scared,” he tells you with an insipid, yet reassuring tone.

You are scared, but not of Tsukishima. You’re afraid of yourself, of your own desire that’s starting to get out of control. You know that one more kiss and you’ll totally cave in.

It shouldn’t be a problem since you know that he wants you just as you want him. The hard thing poking at your thigh is enough proof.

But what happens if morning comes and he wakes up regretting his inebriated urges? He might not be batshit drunk anymore but alcohol is still running through him. If not, he wouldn’t be openly flirting with you.

What about you? What will be your excuse if the sun rises and he asks why you went along with his intoxicated whims?

None.

You’ll be held responsible for leading him to dance the devil’s tango when he’s not capable of consenting to it with a straight head. You don’t want that. You don’t want to see disgust and regret splashed on his face in the morning, not when you terribly enjoy his kisses and touch.

So you softly push him away. “I’ll sleep beside you, Tsukishima. That’s all I’ll do,” you say with your head down and palms flat on his chest.

“Okay,” he obliges right after you said it. “Do you want me to turn away from you?”

Your eyes shoot up and meet his somber golden ones. “N-no. It’s fine. I’ll do it,” you stammer as you shift your position so your back is facing him. You take a while before you feel your heartbeat getting steady again as the temptation dwindles down.

You’re about to close your eyes when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“Can I hold you like this?” he asks, his voice a bit farther than it was a while ago. You can tell that he’s maintaining his distance this time.

“Just like this,” he reiterates with his hand squeezing your shoulder to let you know that his hand won’t drift anywhere else.

You shut your eyes with a faint smile on your lips. You place a hand over his and give it a light squeeze as you murmur, “Yeah.”

Your hand starts to slip down when tonight’s events offer you a last surprise. As your hand glides down while you’re starting to drift off to sleep, he laces his fingers with yours to keep it in place.

You hum peacefully with a gratified smile fully forming on your lips.

You allow yourself to have this.

What harm can come from holding hands with your tipsy blonde middle blocker?

You wake up a bit refreshed. However, you can still feel the aftermath of Tsukki’s heavy figure slouched on your shoulder last night, or was it morning already? You try to massage your shoulder but as you move your hand, you feel someone else’s intertwined with it.

You press your lips together to prevent a smile when you realize that you two slept together. It’s nothing. You shouldn’t be smiling because of it. It’s just a tiny gesture of reassurance that things are okay between you two despite what almost happened.

You carefully untangle your fingers from him before you sit up. You glance sideways to see if you woke him up. He shuffles a bit but doesn’t seem to have been disturbed.

You look out the window and see that the sun has barely risen, meaning you haven’t gotten enough sleep. You know it’s no use getting back to sleep since your mind is already fully awake. You wouldn’t dare get out his room but you’re parched and you need to use the restroom.

You step out of his room and gently closes the door. After you finish using the restroom, you carefully go down their stairs. You take a peek if any of his relatives is up and are relieved when you see that their kitchen is empty.

You saunter your way to their kitchen, remaining as quiet as you can be while you fix yourself a glass of water.

“Morning.”

You flinch and almost drop the glass you just finished when you hear the unexpected greeting. You look at the source and see Akiteru, leaning sideways against the fridge with an amicable smile.

“Oh!” You exhale a huge breath of relief as you put down your glass on the counter. You turn to him to greet him but when you face him, he eyes what you’re wearing. You follow his gaze and realize that you’re wearing Tsukki’s clothes.

‘It’s not what you think,’ is what you want to say, but you already said that at the stairs. If you repeat it again, you’d seem more defensive than you already were. But how else would you explain yourself?

You look at him with pleading eyes and a weary smile. “I swear, it’s really not what it looks like,” you insist weakly. “I just had nothing to wear,” you add to your defense. Akiteru laughs and waves his hand considerately.

“Don’t worry! I believe you, y/n,” he says with his honest, kind smile. “It’s a bit early for you to be up though,” he remarks.

“Yeah. My mind is all...” You hover your hands on both sides of your head and shake them while you roll your eyes inanely.

He chuckles from the antic you didn’t even realize you did. “Wanna chat for a bit? Since you’re all,” he imitates what you did with your head but quelled and contained.

You smile from how pleasant he is despite teasing you so much for taking care of his brother. “Sure,” you answer kindly.

He walks towards their dining table and offers you a seat. You follow curtly and sit across him. He regards you decorously, making you feel at ease even though he’s practically a stranger.

“I have to ask, y/n. There’s really nothing between you and Kei?” he asks genuinely. You can tell that he’s looking out for his younger brother, hence the straightforward question.

You shake your head with a courteous smile. “Nothing. I don’t know if you know, Aki-san, but I’m also his manager.”

His eyes widen.

“You’re the Sendai Frogs’ manager?”

He’s seen Kei’s games but didn’t really have the chance to meet those who stayed on the bench. In one game he has watched, he heard some people beside him saying how blessed the Frogs are for having a ‘hot’ pair of coach and manager. Although he glanced very briefly because of his curiosity, he didn’t really see much of said pair for he was too far away in the stands. You beam proudly at him as you nod, confirming that the other half of the duo is indeed as lovely as the rumors he heard. “For three years now.”

Akiteru scans your face and can’t help but feel like he’s misjudged you a bit. He thought you’re a university student who likes going out and enjoys the most out of college life. He didn’t think you’d be working as a manager for a team. “I was just making sure he got home okay because we need him for practice. The next game is already next week.”

“Isn’t it tough to be his manager?” he asks, curious about what you think of Kei as an athlete.

“Not really. I like everyone in the team. To be honest though, he was a real pain in the a-” you cut yourself off and clear your throat. You must have realized that you’re talking to him, Kei’s older brother. Although, he wouldn’t really mind if you continue what you were about to say. It amuses him actually.

“What I mean to say was he was a bit difficult at first. But over time, I got used to him and actually found him nice to have in the team. He’s very smart and very disciplined. Even if he’s apathetic and sarcastic at times, I know he loves being part of the Frogs,” you explain.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says truthfully as he sees that you’re fond of Kei when your eyes shimmer a bit brighter when you talk about his brother.

“Sometimes people misunderstand him because he acts detached. The truth is when he starts caring about something, he cares deeply. That’s why he has that cool, uncaring facade,” he adds as he stares at the surface of the table.

When he raises his gaze to you, you look a bit mystified.

“I’m sorry! I rambled a bit there, didn’t I?” he laughs tensely.

You smile graciously and wave your palms. “No! It’s fine. I just wasn’t sure why you’re telling me this,” you admit with an apprehensive simper.

He grins warmheartedly. “I just felt like sharing,” he answers even though the real reason is because he’s convinced his brother likes you too and you might need to know that aspect of him.

Kei wouldn’t have allowed you to take him home no matter how drunk he is if he isn’t comfortable with you. The entertaining exchange you three had on the stairs was another clue. Lastly, Kei let you sleep in his room and you’re even wearing his clothes.

“Has he always been like that?” you ask.

“Not really,” his smile fades, for he knows that he’s a big factor why Kei is extremely apprehensive of getting too passionate about something. He brushes it off and continues, “But he’s always had that sarcasm ever since he was little.”

You giggle at his answer. “Why am I not surprised?” you say amusedly before your eyes wander to the window.

“The sun’s up,” you announce softly. “I should go back to Tsukki’s room. I need to change and leave soon so I can attend my earliest class.”

“Of course! Thanks for the small chat, y/n,” he says dearly.

“Any time, Aki-san,” you respond buoyantly then stand up. Instead of going back to Kei’s room, you head to the fridge and get a bottle of water.

“He’ll probably be thirsty as f… hell when he wakes up,” you explain, receptive of Kei’s condition even though his drunk brother must have given you a hard time last night. You bow thoughtfully then head up.

He watches you get back upstairs, careful not to make so much sound from your steps since it’s still early. Then he walks to the kitchen to get him some coffee while thinking how well you suit his younger brother. Part 6 || Part 8 || masterlist taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

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#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei #haikyuu x reader

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