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opalthea · 2 years

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Hiding In The Shocks and The Chill In My Bones.

Or ; Maybe Kaeya really is a horrible lover.

Pairings ; Kaeya x Reader, a final argument to decide the verdict of this wretched relationship.

Genre ; Angst, read at your own risk. Fanon!Kaeya where he's very sharp and hurtful with words.

Unpleasant is a bold word to refer to someone’s voice, but that’s exactly what Kaeya calls your voice. The very sound he claims to love each day now no longer holds the reign, a noise that disturbs him while he lies awake on your shared bed, unbothered.

If Kaeya didn’t know any better, he would have called your persistent whining unnecessary. Childish, even. You’re his lover, and even if it’s a given fact that you’ll be concerned for his well-being… This is too much. You were suffocating; words that claimed to be caring now feel like nothing more than an overfilled jug of intolerable nonsense.

You nag and you complain all about last night. It’s something to do with having to drag him back home; a Kaeya that slurred words, teetering with unbalanced feet, and stinking of liquor. Without fail, you bring it up in the morning to scold him – like right now, even though he spends all night after each incident littering apologetic, sloppy kisses on you as if he does feel guilt for having you pick him up from the tavern. You frown through each touch of his sweet, yet unconscious lips, the feeling of them on your skin that brings you the same shivers frost would bring. Never once has it brought the familiar warm tingles you used to love back when you both were in the early stages of your relationship.

How ironic is it that Kaeya is the lover that warms you, yet numbs you?

Kaeya loves you - really, he does, but many times has he pondered just what does his love mean to you if you badger him for letting himself go, pick on the way he drowns himself in glasses of bitter wines, and fight him when the sun shines through your windows?

He thinks he feels the sides of his head hurt, and he refrains from lying down any longer.

“Kaeya.”

Your tone is raised, and then only did he notice you’ve been calling him. Seems like he blanked out on most of your endless grumbling.

He turns to look at you,

“Are you really listening to me?”

He finds you frowning, firm and deep. Kaeya remains nonchalant, propping an arm on the mattress.

“I am.” He makes sure to add a lilt at the end, and, suddenly, he sounds just like the Kaeya the public knew.

Sweet-tongued Kaeya, with saccharine words easy to swallow, laced with poisonous, addictive charms. He forms back into the Cavalry Captain of Mondstadt - who swoons the maidens in town with cocky smirks and a poise of elegance. He’d even press a shy touch of his lips to their knuckles if he feels daring enough. The same Cavalry Captain who has a love for provoking people just to get what he wants - and right now, petty as he ever is, he wants to see you break under the high-stress situation.

You grit your teeth.

“You weren’t even listening, were you?”

“I still don’t see why you’re so bothered, darling. It’s far too early for us to have an argument, especially during such a gorgeous sunrise,” Kaeya adds, pretending to yawn.

He doesn’t miss the glower you throw his way – maybe he even relishes in it, as psychotic as it sounds. You’re getting more emotional with every word he drops, that he’s confident that you would break if he says anything demeaning, and, suddenly, his entire existence feels like only a lingering ghost of your sweet boyfriend. One where he’s quick to shower you with lovely promises, and careful reassurances.

You sigh, and he picks up on the sound eagerly - and he isn’t sure of who he’s becoming. The only thing on his mind is that you’re foolishly fighting in a game where the ending is your loss.

“I’m bothered —” your hand balls up into a fist, nails digging into your palm, “ — because I’m worried, Kaeya. I care about you - I care about us..!” If Kaeya’s head is spinning, yours is whirling, with many things that you want to yell at him for, but so many things you just needed to say.

Your arms are folded over your chest — he thinks you’re trying to assert your place in this little mess of yours — and your face is open like a book. There’s disappointment, then anger, with it comes sadness and fear, and it spirals down to one. Easily, with all of those in the mixture, one would assume it’s hatred, and hate would be the only thing that would’ve made sense in this blizzard of emotions, but these rotten things all came from one source - love.

And Kaeya mistakes it for malice.

“I know you care, and so do I,” he runs his hand over his hair, absent-mindedly combing through some of the unruly curls of bed hair, “but is it right for you to keep hovering over everything I do, hm?”

His choice of wording shamelessly suggests that you are the manipulative one in this relationship, and not him. Not Kaeya Alberich, the man who had you to care for him when he returns home, drunk or from his work. Not him, the supposedly “top candidate for grandson-in-law”, the one who even the elderly sang praises for, because of his wicked, deceiving sweetheart profile.

You pull a face, displeasure written all over you, leaving you as one ticking, messy time bomb. “Kaeya, you know how I feel about this,” you say, hand pinching your temple as you don’t bother to sit at the edge of your bed. Kaeya didn’t seem like he’d invite you in, either.

“You work so early in the morning, and then return home so late, doing Archons know what. One of the only places I’d find you in is Angel’s Share.. sometimes too out of it to even recognize me.”

The hope in your eyes falls, and there’s no more twinkle to admire while you both hide under the sheets and pretend that nothing’s ever happened. You’re beginning to recognize that this relationship isn’t meant to be mended anymore.

You can’t save this bond, no matter how many times you try to forgive.

With it, your heart too sinks - right to the pits of your stomach, and, suddenly, you’re too aware of the cold wells of tears threatening to soon be a flood. You turn away from Kaeya, your own arms retreating to hug your shaking figure – because if you let it be known that you are crying in the presence of Kaeya Alberich, you'd be damned to a life where he lives to insult you for being so weak.

Kaeya raises an eyebrow as if none of it fazes him at all.

“I spend plenty of time with you, my dear,” he says - and it’s a lie.

A part of him — a liar — that you knew, and the same part you won’t understand.

You suck in a breath.

“Tell me this, then, Kaeya, when was the last time we’ve had time together for longer than 15 minutes?” You’re dead serious when you face Kaeya, your tone leaves no room to joke. Kaeya is not a blind man, nor is he a deaf man, yet he has the guts to pretend to be both when he turns away to look at anywhere else but you.

“Right now,” Kaeya responds with an infuriating smile.

And then, the horrifying apprehension crashes; Kaeya has never taken you seriously.

Putting that in consideration, you wonder just how many times has he even spared you a single moment of honesty, or if he ever did.

He sits up, moving to put aside the comforter he had over his body. When he feels your glare return, it makes him curious, so he searches for your eyes. He wants to know what emotion mirrors your wounded heart, but all he sees is frost. Two reflective, crystalline irises, that only shows a wimp version of himself.

It’s not the kind of frost that screams anger, that spills hurt in the form of hot tears. No, it could never match the kind of searing, raging flames that he once saw on a dark, stormy night.

Instead, the kind that haunts your glare is ice-cold, the kind that he knows would numb the burns of your heart. Kaeya knows he sees the storm that brews in you, acknowledges how you still haven’t let fury fully consume you; if you were truly so furious, then where was the biting chill of your words? Where is the stinging pain that comes after a fight, the one that’s caused by bitter cold? Is he confusing this brewing pot of rage that bubbles in you for the kind that once burned in Diluc - in his red eyes and then his bloody hands?

How is it that your anger suffocates him much more than those of smoking licks of fire?

Kaeya only now realizes the impact of his words, and it’s too late to take them back, too late to apologize… and too late to turn back.

He watches the way your lips curve upwards; sharp, professional, downright bitter.

“You are so funny, Alberich..!”

Your laugh is icy, layers upon layers of gradually building frost, and it’s so foreign compared to your first days of love – those days where your smile rivals that of the sun, yet it doesn’t intend to burn as much as it is warm.

“If this is how you want to be… I have no words left for someone like you,” you continue.

Rigid is what remains of you, the one who used to forgive for everything that he lacked. This time, though, that mercy is taken away, and he’s forced to bear it for his foolishness and impulsiveness.

Just as much as Kaeya takes pleasure in gauging multiple expressions out of you, you revel in the glory of walking out of the room, leaving Kaeya back to his stage one - loneliness.

The very thing he’s told you that he hated.

#ae's works #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya angst #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya imagines #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #genshin impact x reader

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ghoultramp · 3 years

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dream, interrupted [bakugou x reader]

▷ bnha

↳ pairing: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

↳ content: masturbation, somnophilia, thigh fucking, praise, cockwarming

↳ words: 2k

⇢ summary: katsuki is frustrated that he can’t sleep, and also just a bit horny.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: i would say this is tamer, softer even, than my last few pieces, considering the content. there are a few mentions of alcohol being consumed the previous evening (which has been tagged), but this was written with two consenting adults in a secure relationship in mind.

i do hope you enjoy this bakugou fic that almost caused me to have an existential crisis - aha~

The dull drone of the traffic beyond the apartment windows were beginning to grind away at his sanity. How long had he been awake for this time? With a grunt, he rolled over to check his phone, once again, for the time.

“Fucking damn it,” Katsuki cursed under his breath.

His angular features twisted as he scowled, how had it only been 10 minutes? It didn't seem possible.

He returned the phone to its resting place, under his pillow, before begrudgingly turning onto his back. He brought his hands to his face and dragged thick fingers through his disheveled blond hair. He let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his palms hard against his eyes, pulling them down his cheeks to rest idly on his chest.

Katsuki’s ruby eyes wandered over to the lump next to him, watching the cover rise and fall softly with your breathing. The recent longer, more arduous workdays were uncharacteristically weighing him down; the lack of sleep was making him grumpier, easier to anger - both of which becoming a boiling pot - and the sheer workload was now more than a little overwhelming.

His eyelids felt heavy recalling memories of the previous evening; Katsuki had come home in a revolting mood, worse than usual, and instead of using his words like a big boy, he took out his frustrations on you and your body after unwinding with a few drinks. But then again...

You never complained.

It was no secret that you loved how he could become so unrestrained during those 'bad day at work' sessions, passionate and explosive.

Trying to simulate your light touch, he traced the outlines of his well-defined abdominal muscles. He shuddered when his fingers brushed along the sensitive skin of his tight obliques, visualizing your delicate fingers repeating these same motions from last night. He let his eyelids finally fall as he recalled you positioned over him, your drunk needy eyes taking in his statuesque body as he scratched at your back hungrily.

Settling himself in further, Katsuki shifted his hips and shoulders. He reached an eager hand down to his hardening cock, cautiously fondling it as his eyes peered over to assess your level of consciousness.

"Hnnn--" Katsuki failed to hold back his groan, his abdominal muscles twisting and tightening as you let out a gratifying sound in your sleep.

His cock convulsed and the feedback spurred him to grip tighter. He could feel it throbbing beneath his grip, he stroked his cock harder upon hearing the gift of another delicious noise from you.

“You sure seem like you’re having a nice dream,” Katsuki murmured, opening one eye as he turned his head to look at the back of yours.

He bit his lip, imagining that he was reaching his free hand out to stroke your hair, gently at first, before he would then spread his fingers to take a hold of you tightly. A low growl escaped his throat, he was frustrated.

Katsuki grunted as he turned onto his side, shifting closer to you. He was careful to position his dick-holding hand so as not to hamper its performance. He halted immediately when you shuffled ever so slightly, a strangled moan caught in his throat as the leaking head of his tender, hard cock made contact with the bare skin of your ass.

His breathing was now shallow and irregular as he extended his unoccupied hand, he could feel himself quiver as he brought it to rest cautiously high on your thigh. He let his thumb press gently against your hip.

The sweet song of a soft whimpering encouraged him.

“Such a cute thing,” he whispered as he traced faint circles against your ass with his precum tipped cock. “Those good dreams better be about me, princess.”

His grip around his cock tightened when you groaned, shifting your leg in your sleep. Katsuki inhaled sharply, biting his lip hard. It took tremendous effort to quell the moans he so desperately wanted to release, as he felt the warmth of your pussy envelop him.

Katsuki felt the aching pull in his hips as he rubbed himself unashamedly against your rear. He continued caressing your hip while he fought hard against the urge to dig his in his nails and mercilessly fuck you right there and then.

“Fuuuck,” he hissed, caught in the thought as he leaned his head back.

Breathlessly, he finally brought himself to meet your enticing entrance. It took all his strength not to cum right there when he brushed against you, your tight cunt already dripping wet. He followed your slick juices to your thighs.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he breathed, rubbing the head of his cock against your inner thighs.

He imagined that your thighs - the way they were tightly shut, the way your juices had trickled down - were a completely different part of your anatomy. Katsuki almost yowled, caught deep in his reverie, when you quivered in response to his touch. He’d not expected that another one of your movements would cause him to penetrate the tight gap between your thighs.

Straining his neck, he observed with bated breath as you shifted yet again, this time it was your arms. He exhaled, relieved when he saw they had only moved closer to your head. He found the way you nuzzled your lightly blushed cheeks into the pillow quite precious.

Katsuki’s breath shuddered as he let go of his cock, his need was agonizing. He had to do something. He was allowed to, surely?

He found himself slowly rolling against you as he fucked the space between your legs. As he moved his hand from your hip to your thigh, he felt the overwhelming need to knead his fingers against you; the succulently soft, long moan escaping your lips caused his eyes to roll back, his eyelids flutter, and his hips quiver.

Katsuki shook his head, trying to collect himself. There was no way he could allow himself to cum yet, not before he'd claimed your sweet, ripe cunt in your unconscious state.

"Focus," he scolded himself with a grumble.

Now taking the base of his tender, pulsating cock between his thumb and forefingers, Katsuki maneuvered himself until he was poised within reach of your sweet hole. He was feeling more inebriated from your warmth and scent alone than from any of the drinks you’d both shared last night.

He gently pressed on, feeling your cunt quiver; with the mess that had already been made between the pair of you, it didn’t take much for the head of Katsuki’s cock to intrude your tight walls. He let out a low groan when he heard the sopping wet sound your pussy made upon contact.

Katsuki gently rocked on his hips, he couldn’t refrain from panting as the friction against sensitive nerves vibrated throughout his body. How much longer would he be able to edge himself like this?

He didn’t care to halt when you made a sound this time, he was far too lost in these short, shallow, pleasurable thrusts. That was until he heard a whimper, louder than any of the sounds you'd made before; he stopped with his full head nestled in your cunt, wincing sharply when you tightened around it, the warning before hearing your dozy, broken voice.

“Kacchan?” The word strained against your dry throat, your eyelids too heavy to open.

“Shh, shh,” Katsuki reassured you, his voice cracking.

You weren't even vaguely aware that his hand had been on your thigh until he moved it, your body was still comfortably numb from the alcohol in your system. You felt your abdomen flutter as he delicately trailed his fingers over your silhouette, resting when he lay it on your head.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he purred.

You mumbled incoherently, discombobulated as you tried to make sense of what was going on; you found yourself drifting away softly with the way he stroked your hair, the warmth of his body so close to yours. You thought you heard his voice waver as he hummed.

Katsuki was shaking now, your lack of awareness was even more tantalizing, you were so innocent. He growled low in his throat, taking your hair in his fist just as he’d imagined. He felt you spasm as well as heard the shuddering moan that broke free beyond your lips.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, his voice gruff and heady with arousal, “I promise.”

Katsuki kept his word; he gently lifted his pelvis, you both moaned in blissful unison as he took his time plugging you up completely. You felt his teeth make contact with your shoulder, trying his best to only gently nibble as your walls clamped down him around him.

“S-stop doing that,” he breathed against your shoulder.

You tried so hard to stifle your chuckle, he only growled when your insides mirrored pulses that corresponded to your laugh. Katsuki tugged on your hair playfully, he was pleased with the way you whimpered and backed up into him in response.

You relaxed your back into his strong chest, groaning as you moved just enough for him to reach under and around you. His hand gently fondled at your breast and he released his grip on your hair as you rolled your neck, resting your head against him, gasping.

Both of your hips swayed in unison, even just these gentle movements were sending delicious quakes throughout your entire body. Katsuki’s unoccupied hand reached around your thigh, you could feel him tremble as he placed his palm on your abdomen.

“I’ll never get enough of feeling this,” he whispered, you shuddered from his warm breath, lips caressing your earlobe. “Feeling me inside you right--” he pushed down with a palm ever so gently, the back of your head pushed further into him as you moaned without restraint, “--here.”

“Please, make me cum, Kaachan, fill me up,” you begged, whining as you ground against him, “please, Kaachan.”

“Well,” he began, his breathing heavy as turned his palm 90 degrees to point downward, “since you asked so nicely…”

Katsuki’s hand travelled down and you almost yelped when he took your engorged clit between his forefingers. He gently rolled your agonizingly sensitive nub between the first and second knuckles of his fingers, massaging gently as his thrusts picked up pace; just that bit harder and deeper.

Pitiful whines escaped your lips as he hit each one of your nerves, expertly navigating your body as you moved your hips in unison. Your chest heaved with your erratic breathing, lost in the waves of pleasure that seemed to vibrate to the very tip of your limbs.

Strangled cries escaped your slightly parted, dry lips, your body convulsing as Katsuki pulled out to the tip before one last thrust, bottoming out inside of you.

“There’s a good girl,” he declared as you writhed beneath him.

You felt him nuzzle the side of your face while you grabbed tightly at the sheet and pillow beneath you. Your cries were shaky and broken between luscious moans as you felt the gushing release of your climax, Katsuki’s fingers still gently massaged at your overstimulated clit.

He let out a long groan as his hips spasmed and you felt him collide with your cervix, Katsuki’s arm shot up to wrap around you as you let out a sob, overwhelmed by the sheer pressure of his cum filling you up. He held you while you both quivered with the rippling aftershocks of your orgasms.

Katsuki pulled you closer to him, his cock still nestled in your cunt, plugging you up nicely. He wriggled and made an oddly happy-sounding noise.

“I love you, y’know that, right?” Katsuki’s voice was hoarse and exhausted. He nuzzled you and you gave a sweet, equally tired sounding giggle; his cocked tensed just a little at that.

“I love you too, dumbass,” you told him, smiling softly.

You reached for the edge of the quilt and tugged it closely to your face before drifting off to the sound of Katsuki’s breathing and the dull drone of the traffic beyond the apartment windows.

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quentinbecks · 2 years

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WIP Day

Thank you to @chazz-anova for tagging me. Have a bit of this next chapter of Stillness in Woe that’s I’m slowly working on and a bit from a John centric request.

Tagging: @johnnycranes @blissfulalchemist @faithchel @honeysides @adelaidedrubman @gamer-purgatory @hoesephseed @vasiktomis @josephslittledeputy @shallow-gravy @jamesbvchanans @i-am-the-balancing-point @smithandrogers @clicheantagonist @chyrstis @strafethesesinners @shellibisshe @twirlingsmoke and anyone else that wants to tag me 💕

Thought you were dead.” The man nods towards a dilapidated white shed, her missing persons poster haphazardly nailed to the side. “We all assumed those peggie fucks dumped you out in the mountains or over the dam. Guess not, huh?”

“Yeah, unfortunately you can’t get rid of me quite so easily.”

“Well, you can tell both your mother and,” the farmer points at John, “ your little boyfriend here that I ain’t interested in selling. This land has been in my family since my great grandparents stepped foot in Montana. There’s no way in hell I would let Joseph Seed have it and taint their memory.”

Charlie clenches her jaw at both the implication of her relationship to John and the insinuation that she’s just some sad, pathetic lap dog to her mother and him. It’s insulting.

“Oh, I get it,” she says as she makes her way towards the older man. “Trust me. I understand wanting to protect your family above all else. But,” she pauses, glancing back at John who gives her a nod of encouragement, “I don’t think the Seeds want to hurt you or your families' legacy.”

She knows that’s bullshit, but a little lying has never hurt anyone in the end.

“Yeah? Do you even understand who you’re working with? Or are you as dense as the other peggies?”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” Charlie balls her fists, nails digging into her palm. Do not lash out, do not lash out repeating in her head like a mantra. “But would it really hurt you to take money from them,” she asks with a nod towards John. “Money is money and you’re not the only farm out here, Mr. Kellet.”

She doesn’t know why she’s even doing this. She should just let both parties rot, but she won’t let herself be spoken to like this. Not by Mr. Kellet, at least.

“Do you really think any of us would bow down to their demands?,” the older man asks as he walks closer to her, stepping a bit too close for personal comfort, forcing her back.

“Sir, there are a multitude of ways the project could go about purchasing your property. Do you really want to make this harder than it ought to be?”

John is suddenly behind her, his body tense and still. It’s not that Charlie found the farmer to be a threat to her, but it feels oddly comforting to have him so near nonetheless.

“Is that a threat, John?”

“Not at all, Mr. Kellet.”

She knows it’s a promise. In the month she’s known John, Charlie has come to realize that when he wants something he’ll go to any length to have it. And if her current situation is any indication, he’s exceptionally successful at what he does.

“Why don’t we have this conversation in private,” John continues, stepping around her; his hand lightly grazing her lower back as he passes.

“What? Was she not a good enough mouthpiece for you?”

John stiffens, his shoulders squaring as his body tenses. “Sir…”

The farmer takes the hint, dropping his hands as if in surrender. “Fine. Fine. We can talk in my office.”

John nods before turning back to face her, pulling a pair of silver keys out of his back pocket. “Take these and wait in the car. But,” he says, his voice low as he leans in closer; the keys now clutched in his fist, “don’t you dare think about leaving me. Understood?”

Charlie rolls her eyes, holding out her hand expectantly. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of leaving you.”

The Baptist looks like he wants to say something else, but refrains. “Great,” he says as he drops the keys in her hand. “This won’t take long.”

***********

Stop.” Charlie responds, her voice tired and weak. She clears her throat before speaking again. “I want you to stay.” She reaches out, her fingertips splayed across his arm. “Both of you.”

Moving to the middle of the bed, he lays down, Sloane in between them. He winces as he watches Charlie roll onto her side so she can hold both of them. The way her olive eyes water makes his heart feel like it’s being squeezed too tightly.

She wants you here. She forgives you.

“Do you know who did this to me?”

“No.” John shakes his head solemnly. “But, trust me, sweetheart. When Deanna finds them, I will be,” he pauses looking down at his daughter now falling asleep between the two, oblivious to the fact that her parents are in the middle of a holy war, “tearing out their sins one by one until there’s nothing left to confess,” he whispers.

Charlie smiles, eyes closing as her body begins to relax. “You don’t have to whisper, John. She’s still too young to understand what you’re saying,” she teases. “But, I’m happy you chose to stay with us. We need you here.”

“Deanna said the same exact thing.”

“That’s because she’s a smart woman.”

John watches as his wife and daughter begin to peacefully doze off next to him. There’s a part of him that doesn’t feel worthy of having them feel so safe and relaxed next to him. How can they when Charlie almost lost her life because of him? Because of his self righteous cause to cleanse the deputy’s soul. All because Joseph told him she needed to be handled with love rather than the derision she deserved.

Well, no longer will Sadie be handled with care. If anything, John has half a mind to wrap his hands around her throat and watch the life drain from her eyes. Then he would hang her worthless corpse up for all of her equally pathetic friends to bear witness to. It’s what they all deserve. It’s the only thing that would grant him some peace of mind.

But, it would hurt Charlie and John can’t bear the thought of losing her. Not now, not ever.

So, instead of heading down to his confessions room and snuffing the deputy’s life out for good, he rolls over, wrapping an arm around the two of the most important people in his life. Maybe when he wakes in the morning he’ll be able to think a little clearer and he’ll have calmed down a bit.

Maybe.

#idk about that second one tbh #struggling hard with liking it 🥴#wip tag

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joucearchived · 3 years

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The Hell in Your Eyes - 1

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: mild mentions of violence, mild blood

Word Count: 3122

Next Chapter

Loki doesn’t meet her until two weeks after moving into his new prison.

In fact, he’s slightly confused as to how this mortal has escaped his notice — not that she is even remotely worthy of his scrutiny, but he distinctly remembered conducting a mental count of the tower’s inhabitants, one she is obviously missing from. Loki was quite confident he knew of every single person’s existence within his prison walls, yet here he is, staring at a mortal whom he’s never laid eyes upon, and it unnerves him.

Loki is not scared of anything, but he prefers to be aware of his enemies.

His gaze is wary as he stares down the unfamiliar face, memorizing the way her hair frames her face, the way her eyebrows are slightly raised, and her eyes, which are meeting his own with a mix of surprise, defiance, and a tint of fear. He grins.

Ah, never quite without the fear.

But then her attention moves past him and focuses on his brother — typical — and Loki’s grin falls. Thor is standing besides Loki, just recently interrupted from his enthusiastic explanation of what a ‘smoothie’ is. He now sports a ridiculously wide grin and surges forward towards the unknown woman. His shoulder rams into Loki’s, pushing him out of the way in his haste to greet her.

Loki decides he despises her.

“Angel!” comes Thor’s booming shout, his voice altogether too happy, too enthusiastic, too loud . He sweeps the woman — Angel — into a warm embrace. Loki snorts derisively, noting the girl’s chipped nails, painted a crude shade of black, the oversized, undignified shirt she sports, and the atrocious mop of hair sitting atop her head. He is utterly unimpressed.

“Ow Thor, you’re crushing my ribs.”

Her voice is bothersome, altogether too scratchy and too rough and too hoarse. She sounds like she just woke up. Every word she says grates upon his nerves, fueling his dislike. Loki wishes she would drink some water, if only to soothe his growing irritation.

His brother releases her, and she takes a couple of steps back, smoothing down her hair. Her fingers are entangled in the ends, and she pulls on them with the impatience of a child. Still grinning at Thor, she continues.

“What are you doing up so early?” she inquires. “I know for a fact you don’t have to train in the mornings to maintain your stupid godly body.”

As Thor’s booming laughter once again echoes throughout the room, Loki cannot help but roll his eyes. Pathetic . Just another airheaded girl infatuated with his oh-so-righteous golden brother. At this point, Loki doesn’t even feel disappointment. This is to be expected, after all. Thor is the one who is a hero. Thor is part of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Thor helped save humanity — against Loki no less. Thor never tried to subjugate New York, nevermind that Loki’s mind hadn’t been his own, that his body was hastily reconstructed, that —

“Good morning to you too my lady! I was just here with Loki, teaching him how to make smoothies. With — what do you call this? Ah, a blendifier.”

Thor’s voice is softer than Loki is used to, and in this moment he decides that he hates his brother’s voice much more than he hates this useless mortal’s. He drowns out the rest of their conversation, idly wondering if he can slip away while his brother is distracted. Perhaps he could get back to his reading; Midgard’s literature is undoubtedly inferior to Asgard’s but also infinitely more engaging than concocting whatever a ‘smoothie’ is supposed to be.

His train of thought is interrupted by Thor calling out his name.

“Oh, but you haven’t met!” Thor turns towards Loki — seemingly just remembering that Loki is in the room — and motions towards the girl.

“Loki, this is [Y/n], and my lady, this is Loki, my brother, the one I’ve told you about.”

Loki wonders what Thor has told her about him. Surely, if his previous activities on Midgard haven't spoken clearly enough, whatever narration of their childhood tainted with Thor’s tongue should have sufficiently warned her of himself.

But the mortal woman surprises him. She sticks out her hand and offers him a handshake. Hesitantly, he takes her hand and shakes once, firmly, then quickly releases her. Her hands are warm and soft — much unlike his. He wonders if they too can become as calloused as his own. Perhaps if she was forced to endure what he had. He doubts she has ever even felt a flicker of pain. No, pain hardens. She cannot have felt pain because pain is relentless and beautiful and pain is cruel and glorious and because with pain either you embrace it or you break and she is too soft to have felt pain.

Loki doesn’t like soft things.

“Hey Loki. I’m [Y/n] but everyone just calls me Angel. Or Angie if you prefer. It’s nice to finally meet you. ” Her voice doesn’t waver, but Loki can detect the underlying unease present. He doesn't, however, detect a lie. How interesting.

“Pleasure,” he deadpans, lip curing into a sneer. Thor frowns, his brother quickly moving between them, shielding her from Loki. Loki scoffs. As if he could do anything to her. Loki could not so much as breathe without permission. Here, Loki was at the complete mercy of his brother, the pitiful Avengers, and now this drowsy looking, disheveled Midgardian.

Loki almost laughs. Oh how far he’s fallen.

Thankfully, his interaction with the girl — Angel — seems to be over. She turns away from him, once again addressing his brother.

“Just remember when using the blender — not blendifier — to be careful. Make sure your hand is nowhere near the blades when you turn it on, and clean it with a sponge. Or just rinse it out and put it in the dishwasher. You know how the dishwasher works, yeah?” Her eyes are filled with sincerity and adoration and Loki hates it. For a brief moment, he entertains the thought of shoving Thor’s head into the blender. He doubts it would fit.

His brother beams at her. “Do not worry my lady. I know how to use the blendifier. Even if the blades were to attack my fingers, I assure you my Asgardian strength would protect me.” Loki is fairly sure the blades could take out a sizable chunk of Thor’s hands. The temptation to test out his theory rises again, and he stomps it down.

Thor is just as boastful as ever, never ignoring a chance to show off in front of others. Thor hasn’t changed a bit. Thor is still the completed, whole reflection of himself while Loki is just broken fragments. It isn’t fair. Oh but when has life — the cursed thing — ever been fair to Loki? His irritation grows and his hands clench, his fingernails digging into his palms. Pain. Pain is comforting to Loki. Loki knows pain and he likes it.

“Sure, sure. I know your stupid godly genes will protect you or whatever, but just be careful. I’m pretty sure you still bleed, and blood smoothies really aren’t all that appetizing.” She looks at Loki then, her eyes glinting mischievously, and winks. “Unless, of course, you volunteer to clean up as well, because I sure as hell know we don’t want to scrub your bloodstains off these counters.”

Loki isn’t quite sure how to react, but his fists loosen.

She’s soft and weak and mortal but she’s also snarky and sarcastic. And Angel is the first person to use ‘we’ and include Loki in a long time. He decides he hates it. He doesn’t wish to be included with these Midgardians under any context. He doesn’t need their pity, their false sympathy. In fact, Loki prefers the venomous looks of the other Avengers much more than whatever trick this woman is spinning. His fingernails once again dig into his palms and he feels the familiar trickle of blood sprouting from his palms.

Angel looks away and turns back to Thor, who offers her a bit of the ‘smoothie’ he has been attempting to make for the past hour. She giggles, a sickly sweet sound that makes Loki’s stomach churn, and pats Thor’s arm.

The blood running from Loki’s fingers drips onto Stark’s expensive, pristine floor.

“Thor, the last time you made smoothies they worked more as laxatives. I’ll pass.” She grins again, and Loki wants nothing more than to wipe that expression off her face. He wonders how she’ll look without the seemingly ever present light on her face. Perhaps her eyes will resemble the dull marbles that stare at Loki every time he looks into a mirror. Her gaze falls upon Loki again, but she refrains from addressing him.

With that, Angel turns and saunters away, her sock covered feet softly padding across the floor. Her socks are mismatched and worn and frayed at the edges.

______________________________

The woman is right. Thor’s smoothie is nothing short of poison and Loki tells him as much.

“This is absolutely atrocious.”

Thor’s eyebrows connect in a comical frown as he takes a sip. His lips pucker and he forces himself to swallow. “I completely disagree, brother! This is just what the Midgardians drink. It’s a part of their culture, something you should get to know well.”

Thor hasn’t changed a bit. He is as stubborn as he ever was. Thor would rather drink the entirety of the brown mush he has made than admit to Loki he was wrong. He wonders how Thor would react to Angel’s criticism.

Thor pats Loki on the back as he motions towards the mess he has made out of the kitchen. Loki knows Thor cannot feel the scar tissue hidden underneath Loki’s clothes, the raised edges and criss-crossed lines. He knows this because he hides it. He doesn’t need anyone, much less Thor, to know of the scars his body carries, and he doubts his brother would care. But Loki wishes Thor wouldn’t use so much force. He disguises a wince under a scowl and steps away.

“Brother, would you mind tidying up? I have a training appointment with the Captain, and I would rather not be late.”

Loki doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. Thor is already walking away from Loki, his steps heavy and confident, so unlike Angel’s. Thor is leaving Loki to clean up his mess, another mess Loki had no part in making, and Loki is once again responsible. For he knows, he doesn’t have a choice. If any of the tower’s inhabitants were to come down and see Loki in the midst of this disaster, he knows they will blame him. Not that it particularly makes a difference, but Loki would prefer less hostility than needed.

With a wave of his hand, his seidr sweeps across the room, erasing any evidence of Thor’s ill-fated attempt at creating something. Loki does a once-over of the room, ensuring everything is returned to its original position, and as he moves to return to his quarters, a flash of red catches his eye.

Ah. His blood on the floor. The blood of a god — frost giant — cannot be as easily removed as the stains left behind in the blender.

Looking around, Loki grasps a sponge and, after again ensuring no one can see him, bends down to begin scrubbing his own blood off the floor. Loki doesn’t like blood. It’s too red and too warm and he knows its rusted smell will follow him throughout the day. He especially despises his own blood. It stains.

In the midst of his undignified scrubbing, Loki detects footsteps. He moves to stand up — quickly, but he is too late. Angel walks back into the kitchen, this time with her hair slightly more tamed and in a ponytail. She looks to have changed from her sleepwear to loungewear, sporting the ridiculously comfortable pants Loki has learned are called sweatpants and a shorter, cropped top. Her socks are still mismatched.

She looks at Loki, and with a start he realizes he is still on the ground. Loki Laufeyson is on his knees before a mortal, in the midst of wiping away his own blood from the floor.

Damn.

His throat tightens as he feels his anger rising, pulsating throughout his entire body. He scorches her with a glare, daring her to comment on his situation. He swears, Norns be damned, he will kill her. Regardless of the consequences, he will kill her if she says anything. Loki doesn’t care if he is condemned to spend another century on Midgard as penance, he will silence her. He opens his mouth, about to make his threat clear, but she speaks first.

“Well. I told Thor he would bleed. Did the big idiot leave you to clean up his mess?” She tilts her head at Loki, and he hates the way she is still looking down at him, hates the way one of her hands are on her hips, hates the way he can see a sliver of skin peeking out from between her clothes. “I specifically told him we wouldn’t clean up his blood.”

Loki bites down his retort. Angel doesn’t sound mocking, but rather sympathetic. He doesn’t need sympathy from a mortal. He finally rises and approaches her, looming over her smaller frame. “Get out,” he says, voice halfway between a whisper and a rasp. “There is no ‘we’ with you and I, and you will do well to remember that.”

Angel holds his glare for a second, but then turns away, and Loki waits for her to flee. Instead, she grabs the soap sitting next to the sink and holds it out to Loki. “Alright then, Your Highness. Have fun.”

Loki’s hand reaches towards the soap and his fingers brush hers. Her fingers are soft, just like her hands, and Loki wonders if her soul is as fragile as her physical body. Loki hates soft things.

With that, Angel leaves the kitchen a second time, and Loki is left to wipe his own blood off the floor, alone.

______________________________

He can’t get her out of his head.

The woman who was so damnably soft occupies Loki’s thoughts and he hates it. He hates how he can perfectly recall the color of her eyes, her scent, the way her skin felt against his own. He hates how she saw him kneeling on the floor.

Loki is sitting on his bed, just after rejecting Thor’s persistent invitations to go down to dinner. Thor insists it’s ‘bonding time,’ that ‘all are welcome,’ and ‘everyone would love to see him there!’ Loki isn’t an idiot. He knows what the others say about him. They don’t realize that Loki can hear their hostile whispers from across the room — and even if they did, Loki doubts they would stop.

His mind wanders back to the girl. Would she join in on their gossip? Do they trust her? Who is she?

Thor had seemed familiar and friendly with Angel, but Loki knew nothing of her. He could detect no magical presence surrounding her, and she did not look as toned or threatening as the Widow. From all he could gather, she had no place here. Yet, she was obviously a welcome occupant of the tower. Loki was intrigued, and he felt a begrudging curiosity surrounding her grow.

What was her history? Why wasn’t she here when he arrived?

Loki is distracted from his thoughts by his stomach, which alerts him of its discomfort. Loki has not eaten anything since the half sip of Thor’s smoothie, and hunger has begun to fester within himself. But Loki cannot get food yet. No, he must wait until dinner is over until he can go downstairs and snoop through the refrigerator for anything suitable. He has learned that this made everyone more comfortable. The Avengers could pretend he did not live with them, and Loki could avoid the hateful and tense environment that accompanied him wherever he went. Really, the hunger he feels is insignificant. He has dealt with much more, and he knows from experience he can go many moons without sustenance.

It’s past midnight when Loki finally ventures downstairs. He enters the kitchen without a sound and doesn’t bother turning on the lights. Loki had no need for light — he much preferred the darkness anyway. He walks towards the refrigerator, hoping that perhaps he could find some of the takeout left over from last week’s movie night. Ah, but Stark had thrown out the takeout yesterday. Loki just hoped that he could find something fresh then — but not too fresh, in case the others still desired it.

But as Loki opens the refrigerator door, he is surprised. On the top shelf, placed on the left edge, is a plate covered carefully with plastic wrap, a bright green sticky note plastered on top. He isn’t unfamiliar with the practice: reserving leftover dishes as one’s own. He found it childish, really, but he never took anything that was claimed — no unnecessary hostility was needed, and he was familiar with the screaming matches that often took place when claimed items disappeared. What he is unfamiliar with is the name on the sticky note.

Loki , it says, with a crudely drawn illustration of what is unmistakably his horns, followed by a smiley face.

Loki looks around, waiting for whoever had placed this cruel joke to pop out of the darkness and laugh at him, but there is no movement. Eyes narrowed, he scrutinizes the note. It’s not a script he recognizes, and he deduces it must belong to the woman — to Angel.

Carefully, he takes the plate and uncovers it, the smell of the food wafting through the air. Loki recognizes the scent as the dish the Captain made earlier that day. His mouth waters, unwillingly, and Loki cannot recall the last time he consumed food so freshly prepared. His fingers toy with the edges of the plate, debating whether or not to permit himself this pleasure.

He decides that yes, since the woman had clearly set aside food for him, it would be an insult to ignore it. Not that Loki particularly minded insulting his roommates, but again — the less hostility, the better. And if it ends up as part of an elaborate trap, well then Loki can say that he expected it.

He takes the food back to his quarters, and Loki truly enjoys a meal for the first time since he was still a Prince of Asgard.

He hates that he enjoys it.

He hates soft things.

And most of all, he hates Angel.

______________________________

Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color gold.

- Victoria Erickson

______________________________

Next Chapter

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader #loki series #the hell in your eyes #thiye #loki x you #friends to enemies to lovers #reader insert #loki fic

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

finders keep hers.

reads part two and three. a drabble about idiots in love because it is literally my favourite trope in the world and also, who can resist a fuck boy!jk and a won't-tell-him!best friend? c'mon! also, big thanks to @hobi-gif for being the best beta reader i could ever ask for. xoxo

pairing. jjk x (named) f!reader. rating. ... explicit. tags. smut with idiots! big fucking idiots who do dumb things! but yeah, unprotected sex (please wrap the willy and don’t be silly), a lil bit of dirty talk, some angst if you squint at the right times. wc. 2.2k.

“Baby.” It comes out whiny and breathless, a world away from the usual confidence that spills off of his tongue. He’s half delirious, grip imprinting itself into the yielding flesh of your thighs. Each noise he makes sounds like it’s about to fully form before dropping off, stolen by some bliss that seems to reside back behind his eyelids. It splits and breaks over and over, murmurs of your name and affection and whatever else he can think of in the moment.

You love when he’s like this. Love that you can bring him to this - a man on his knees (or, more literally, on his back).

“Hm?” Laughter crawls off your tongue, slinking into the heavy air and dripping into the spaces between you, like the sweat that creeps down your neck and beads at his temples. You punctuate the question with a deliberate roll of your hips, single hand splayed out across the delightfully firm expanse of his chest.

The noise he makes is sinful - almost beguiling enough for you to stop the slow torture - but you think better of it when he meets your motion with one of his own. It’s disjointed, far less measured than yours, and driven by a need he can barely articulate.

“Use your words, Kookie.”

His childhood nickname shouldn’t sound the way it does - like fucking in powder rooms and secluded cabanas. It should spring forward light and airy, more childhood friendship than unbridled twenty-something year old lust.

You don’t think he minds, though. He certainly doesn’t look like he minds.

“Baby, please.” He moans it so prettily - like he’s begging for all the stars in the sky - that you want to give it to him. Want to, but won’t, because that’s not how this goes and you know he’ll thank you for it later. He always does.

“Please what, Bunny ?” You’re really teasing now. You wonder if he’ll hold it against you when he’s back to his senses.

Back to being Jeon Jungkook, the man with everything.

“You’re being mean.” How he manages to huff it when he’s hardly lucid, you’re not sure. You have to applaud him - reward him - so you do, dragging your fluttering walls off his cock, and all but dropping yourself back upon it. It’s the first inch you’ve given all afternoon - the first taste of anything other than slow and steady wins the race.

The grip on your hips borders on painful, the neatly trimmed edges of his nails digging into the pliant tanned skin. Your own fingers readjust, tweaking his nipple in the way you know he loves, and he nearly flinches away before leaning heavily into your touch, entire chest heaving.

“Fuck me,” he whines, again, in that voice. You snicker above him, soothing the red assault lines you’ve left across his torso with sweet brushes of your fingertips and the occasional graze of your lips.

“I am, honey.”

You know he tries to hold in the pent-up energy that radiates through his entire body, buzzing from his toes all the way up his spine. He bucks beneath you, seeking more, more, more like the greedy brat he is.

“Nuh uh,” you repeat, like a scolding school teacher. “You take what I give - or I’m going home.”

The threat is very real - you’ve done it before - and he immediately stills, eyes flashing wide and earnest up at you. His thumb rubs soothing circles across your hip bone - right where he’d dug his fingers in only moments earlier.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks and you know he means it. You can hear it in the way he can hardly speak. He tries again, softer now, with his charm turned up to eleven, tongue swiping over the spit-slicked edge of his bottom lip. “Please, angel?”

One hand is halfway up your side, moving with purpose until he finds the sensitive edge of your ribs, touch trailing over where he can feel each individual bone. He repeats the motion once, twice, before pressing the broad palm of his hand over your right shoulder blade, splaying digits across your back. You both know how easy it would be for him to drag you chest-to-chest, but he refrains - just looks up at you with those big doe eyes of his.

“Give me what I want, princess.” He’s pulling out all the stops - dressing you in every pet name imaginable. “I’ll make it worth your while - make that pretty pussy all messy for me.”

You don’t miss how he’s slowly grinding into you, the friction against your aching clit buzzing in the back of your mind as he whispers his sweet nothings.

“I don’t know, Bunny.” You’re playing a very specific role now. The role of aloof prey-turned-hunter, not a care in the world in sight. It doesn’t matter that maybe - just maybe, it’s all a very carefully practiced facade. It’s what he - and you - both need.

Each time you don’t flat out deny him, he’s emboldened. He ruts his hips into you a little more firmly, fucks himself into you with a little more intention. You hardly even notice the coil of his hand until the heat from his palm is searing through the delicate skin of your neck, his fingers pressing into the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

You want to rebuff him a bit longer but Jungkook knows all of your weaknesses and exploits them like a power hungry tyrant. “I don’t hear a ‘no’ , baby.”

Not like you can say much of anything when he’s got his hand around your throat. He knows that just as well as you.

“Tell me you want this, too.” He doesn’t need the affirmation but he craves it from you - demandsit by dropping his other hand from your waist to the apex of your thighs. He repeats himself as he swirls his thumb over your clit, circling it with the lightest of pressure.

His grip on your neck even relents enough to allow an answer to slip past your lips. In his mind, he’s being very, very lenient.

You do your best to refrain. Frankly, you think you do better than most women would. But there’s still only so much you can take and a sharp, tantalizing pinch to your most sensitive bundle of nerves is not one of them.

It sparks an inferno through you, heat devouring every ounce of sensibility.

“Okay, okay!” You’re matching him in tone, petulence tearing off your tongue. “I give.”

He grins - that slow, cat-ate-the-canary thing that demands attention and steals hearts. The same smile he’s carried his entire life, buck-toothed and adorable. “That’s right, baby. I always win.” Triumph colours his words and you almost roll your eyes; he stops you with an abrupt repositioning, your sweat-slicked frame pushed off him in a single fluid motion. You feel like a ragdoll.

You don’t have time to reprimand him before he’s got you, crowded against your back with his face buried against your nape and his cock brushing through your folds. Your knees are kicked apart, spread obscenely around him. His favourite position, you think, though he’d claim otherwise.

“Jungkook!”�� You snarl, growing impatient with how he teases you, forearm caged right beneath your breasts and the other resting against the mattress.

For all his bitching and complaining, he’s being a real big asshole now.

“What - no more Bunny?” The words roll hotly into your ear, followed by the sharp edge of enamel as he nips at the delicate cartilage and tongues right below your lobe at the spot that makes you keen. He’s mocking you, dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit over and over but never giving you more - never taking you in the way he’d begged to do.

“If you don’t smarten up right now—” It’s a hiss that leaves no room for argument. “—get the hell off me.”

Maybe it’s sixteen years of friendship or maybe it’s how hot you sound when you’re pissed off. Either way, it’s the last straw and he’s burying himself to the hilt, filling you up so well that you can’t help the way you moan, lewd like a well-paid pornstar.

“Better?” He huffs, somehow, in between his hard unrelenting thrusts that bounce you across his thousand thread count sheets.

His lips find a spot right between your neck and shoulder and he mouths greedily over it, saliva soothing the roses that bloom beneath his teeth. He does this every time - marking you in ways you can’t stop, placing a glaring neon sign that reads JEON JUNGKOOK .

“Stop talking.” Not that you don’t love his voice - not that you don’t love him, deep down - but because you can’t focus. You’re far too tightly strung from your earlier activities and your insides feel like they’re melting, molten lava seeping through your system each time he presses back into you.

You can feel every ridge and vein, anchored with nowhere to go by his weight. It’s absurd how he stretches and fills you - like you can feel him all the way in your throat. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Don’t get mouthy,” he returns, playful as ever. A small part of you wonders how he looks - if he’s got that stupid grin on his face - but you know you can’t turn. He’s calling all the shoots now, just like he loves to do. “C’mere, angel.” You’re up and back in the next instant; he’s holding you flush against his chest with ease, hips hardly missing a beat as he pulls you upright.

Damn him and his strength.

The sound you make when his cock drags against that particular spot inside you is almost laughable. “Kook .” His name is hardly that - more of a garbled plea. You briefly wonder if you look as stupid as you suddenly sound.

Satisfaction practically rolls off him in waves, suffocating you just as his right hand does, the left darting to focus on your clit. “That’s right.” He’s saccharine sweet, nipping and nibbling at your pulse as he feels it jump beneath his tongue.

You’ve done this enough times that he knows you’re close and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t, too.

“Come on, baby. Let go - I know you want to.” You can’t stop yourself when he’s whispering so nicely, coaxing you into a state of euphoria with his hand and his cock and his goddamn good-for-nothing mouth. You’re mewling nonsense, meeting his every movement like your life depends on it. You’re so close, tittering on the edge of an impossibly dark abyss; you think you might cry.

Then all at once, with a particularly rough snap of his hips and just a bit more pressure on your clit, white hot heat sears through you. It starts in your core and pulls through your limbs, dissolving your bones into nothingness as you reach your long-awaited high.

Tears are spilling over before you can register it, wetness heavy in your throat and the line of your lashes.

“That’s right. Cream all over this cock, baby. Good girl.” Jungkook never ceases his quiet words of encouragement or how he rocks against you, your name rolling off his tongue like a balm to soothe the burns he’s left behind.

Even while he’s chasing his own release, he never forgets about you, humming reassurances into your curtain of dark hair.

You try to return the favour - it’s an almost impossible feat - when his hips stutter and he loses his rhythm. Fisted into the sheets, your hand finds his, thin fingers coiling around knuckles that strain white beneath permanent ink.

“Kook. Kook. Please cum for me.”

You’re begging him in a way he can’t resist and he spills inside of you then, filling you so well you can feel it slick down your thighs as he rides out his high.

When he’s spent and satisfied, he breaks away and tosses himself at your side, rolling onto his back. He sounds like he’s run a marathon when he speaks, out of breath and giddy. “God - you’re so good for me.” He says it almost like he means it as more than it is - more than a casual fuck on a Friday night.

You’re up before he has a chance to pull you to him, picking up your discarded clothes as you move towards his bathroom.

“You’re leaving?” Why he sounds so surprised, you’re not sure but you’re grateful for the closed door and the inability to see his face. You can only imagine how it looks, framed by his just-fucked mess of hair and bathed in the afternoon light.

You emerge from the bathroom fully clothed, strands of your own swept into a haphazard braid that hides the mosaic he’d painted with his mouth. You’re careful not to meet his stare as you retrieve your bag from his immaculately kept desk, sliding it over your shoulder. “I have a report I need to submit tonight.”

“You can do it here.” He’s not wrong - you’d done most of your university coursework in his living room.

But that was then and this is now and it’s hard enough sleeping with your best friend without feelings getting in the way so you shake your head and laugh, nonchalant as you can manage. “You have coffee with that girl from Wednesday at 8 AM and I’m definitely not in the mood for an early morning tomorrow.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head - the proverbial gun he’s about to use to riddle your reasoning with holes - and raise a hand to silence him before he can begin.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Then you’re gone, half your heart in your chest and the other in the hands of your stupid, oblivious best friend.

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jinkicake · 4 years

Text

Human Anatomy

Ushijima’s med student s/o uses his muscles to study anatomy.

Ushijima x Reader

This is for anon who requested this!! I hope you like it and yes I did add some smut LOL! ≦(._.)≧ I made this a female reader, only because of the smut so I hope that is okay! Anatomy is fun! Hopefully the terms I used make sense, I haven’t taken anatomy in like four years. TT

WC- 2,198

~~~

The large books in front of you stare tauntingly and you can’t help but glare back. You’re currently situated in front of the couch trying, keyword trying, to work on your latest anatomy unit.

“Wakatoshi~” You whine and craw onto the couch to sit with your boyfriend, wrapping your hands around his broad shoulders. You nudge your face against the crook of his neck and as your nose brushes against the delicate skin a stroke of genius hits you. “Wakatoshi can I use you?”

The large volleyball player glances at you before looking back down at the magazine that has had him preoccupied. He thinks to himself, with hopeful eyes like that, how can he say no?

“Sure.” Granted his consent you place a peck on the edge of his jaw before running over to the kitchen to grab sticky notes.

“Okay in the unit I’m working on we’re studying the major anterior muscles and so you, beautiful,” You pause your explanation to send your boyfriend a cheeky wink. “are going to be my model.” Ushijima only nods and you get to work right away, writing each of the major muscles on individual sticky notes.

“It’s a win-win, I get to study and I get to touch you! Canceling out the thing I hate most with the thing I love most!” You tell him and are so distracted by writing down the names that you don’t notice as your boyfriend moves behind you. Arms wrap around your waist and Ushijima pulls you so your back is flush against his chest, his face resting in the crook of your neck.

“You’re so cute.” You smile at his actions before laying all the notes out randomly.

“Okay, you can either stand up the whole time or lay flat on the couch.” You order but Ushijima makes no moves to get up, his arms are still locked around your center. “Come on Ushiwaka.” You taunt playfully and he lets out a groan before moving to rest on the couch. “Good boy.” Ushijima can only smile when you kiss his cheek as a reward.

A few moments go by and you stare blankly at the sticky notes, the words are starting to look like a new language. Slowly you turn around to look at your boyfriend who is peacefully staring at the ceiling. You place your hand on his shoulder and grab for one of the sticky notes.

“You know this could be easier for me if you were bare.” You innocently lift up his shirt. “That way I can actually see what I’m working with.”

Ushijima’s side-eye does not go unnoticed but either way, he does exactly what you say.

“Wouldn’t it only be fair if you were just as nude?” His words catch you off guard and you can’t help the squeak that leaves your lips.

“Wakatoshi don’t tease me!” You watch as he lays back down and instantly you push his gym shorts up to meet his large muscular thighs. “Now I can work!”

Ushijima watches you as you run your hands all over his body, quickly sticking the notes in their designated positions. Your fingertips are so soft and leave feathery touches in their wake as you move them up and down his body. Each time you place a note down you also give a soft kiss to the respective area. As focused as you are, Ushijima almost feels bad for enjoying your touch as much as he does, his mind even starts to wander.

With only a few sticky notes left you pick up the one labeled 'pectineus’ and almost instantly a dark smile appears on your face. You put that one back down beside ‘adductor longus’ and choose to save those two for last. Actually having a body to label in front of you makes studying easier, not only can you see what is in front of you but seeing the names attached really helps stick it in your memory.

You will admit, you’re having too much fun for someone who is just placing down sticky notes. When you pick up ‘rectus abdominis’ you turn and blow on the exposed skin covering Ushijima’s abdomen before placing the sticky note down. Flattening your palm for extra emphasis, grinning when you feel his happy trail tickling your wrist. You glance up at him once before placing a soft kiss just below the sticky note. It takes everything in you to hold back your tongue because as much as you want to lick his bare skin, you won’t, you’ll end up getting distracted.

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Ushijima comments and when you look up at him again, you can practically feel the blood flowing out of your nose. His arm is up and covering his eyes, the flex in his large bicep makes you want to fall flat on the floor. That, however, is not your priority at the moment.

“Wait, wait, the sticky notes will fall you have to be still Wakatoshi.” You grip at his arm and bring it back down to his side, when you look back at him he is already staring at you. Interest clouding his olive eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Ushijima tilts his head gently and the innocence in his actions contrasts how sinful his body looks laid before you.

“Like I’m two seconds away from tearing your shorts off.” The confession leaves your lips as if you’re discussing something as simple as the weather and Ushijima has to refrain from grabbing you and settling you down on his lap. At this point, fuck the sticky notes.

“I’m almost done, you’ll get a reward for being such a good model, be patient.” You blow gently against his ear before turning around to grab another sticky note. You can’t help but giggle at the way Ushijima stiffens as you run your index finger along his chest, your nail lightly digging against the skin. With a wide grin that you can’t contain you pick up the last two sticky notes and place them on their respective positions on either side of his inner thighs. You look up at Ushijima and keep your eyes locked as you lower your face to rest above his crotch. You mouth hot kisses along his inner thighs, giggling when you notice the large bulge in front of you.

“Worked up from this? So cute Wakatoshi~” You tease before running your lips on his length over his gym shorts. Slowly you move your hands to rest right on top of his thighs, gripping the muscle tightly before resting your head on his hip. “You want to know what my favorite muscle is?” You wait for a few seconds, Ushijima makes no effort to answer and you give him a pointed look. “The rectus femoris.”

Ushijima only stares down at you with a blank face, his body tense with having you so close to him like this. The tall ace puts two and two together and figures out you’re talking about his thighs.

“My thighs?” His low voice causes you to bite your tongue to hold back a moan, you can't help but shiver at what his voice does to you.

“Sit up.” You command and hop off the couch, staring down at him with hard eyes and not doing much to hide the pleased smile on your lips. Ushijima watches you carefully before sitting upright in the middle of the couch, his eyes follow you as you sink between his knees. Instantly your hands are glued to his thighs, studying them with such interest before moving your mouth to bite each of the sticky notes littering his lower body off.

“Take them off, don’t be shy.” You pluck at each of the sticky notes on his arms, chest, neck, and simply throw them on the floor beside you. Ignoring Ushijima as he rolls his eyes at the mess you’ve created.

Your hand trails down to sneak under his shirt, pressing your palm flat over his happy trail. You lower your hand into the warmth of his shorts, barley resting your palm over his member. You giggle at the hardness you already feel, the warmth spreading over your palm like a wildfire. You glance back up at the boy just as you cup him and squeeze, aching for his reaction. In return, all you get is his eyes widening and chest heaving with each breath. Your hand begins to fondle the bulge gently, applying pressure with each movement of your wrist.

“Let me hear you Wakatoshi~” You coo. A hum of approval is released from your mouth as you continue to you feel him, your fingertips dancing towards the tip. Easily you spread the excess precum over his length, hand running up and down along his cock. This time when you glance up at him, his brown head is leaning back against the couch and the lip you so desperately want to bite is encased by his teeth. You quietly giggle to yourself while you continue to jerk him off, your thumb flattening over his slit once you reach the tip. Finally, finally, you get noise from him. A groan is released from his delicate lips and his hips jerk and push through your fist. You tightly grip the base of him, hearing another sigh of pleasure fill the air. You want to tease him you really do, however, giving him the pleasure he deserves sounds so much more appealing.

“Fuck (Y/N).” Ushijima pants and tries to push your hands off of him.

“W-what?” The big frown on your face makes him instantly regret his actions but the regret disappears as soon as he grabs your biceps to pull you on top of him. Placing you so that one of his legs rest in-between your own and as soon as he presses his lips to yours, his muscular thigh pressed against your center roughly.

You sigh against his lips and a twitch of pleasure runs up your spine causing you to grip his broad shoulders tightly. Large, warm hands squeeze your hips pulling you to grind on his thick muscle.

“Wakatoshi,” You sigh moving your hands to rest on his chest, lightly scratching against his exposed chest. “Have I ever told you how much I liked your thighs? I don’t think I have.”

This was not new news to your boyfriend, he picked up the obsession you have with his thighs even before the two of you started dating. How many nights he spent cumming to the image of your eyes holding him in place while you squirmed in your seat, he doesn’t know. Your soft whine breaks him from his thoughts and he flexes his thigh underneath you.

“I really, really love them.” Your chest begins to rise and fall as you start to pant due to the pressure building up within you. “I literally get myself off to the sight of them.” Now, this was something Ushijima did not know. It makes sense, really, but when he starts to think about his girlfriend late at night back-arching due to her own fingers while she thinks about his thighs? His brain momentarily freezes.

“My love, stop talking.” Ushijima lowers his head to slot his lips over yours trying to catch any noises that come out your mouth. He knew if he let you continue on the way you were talking he would have come in his pants untouched before you, who was actually getting touched. He couldn’t handle the embarrassment. The vibrations from your whimpers of pleasure spill into his mouth as you speed up your pace on his thigh. The feeling of his large build beneath you, tightening with every delicate touch of your fingers, paired with his hot mouth on yours almost becomes too much for you. Slowly one of his hands moves from your hips, trailing alongside your body before cupping your breast. His hand slides under your shirt to pinch one of your nipples almost painfully and you arch your back, pressing into him in response. It all becomes too much and you can feel your wetness dripping onto his bare thigh.

“Give into me (Y/N).” By now you know this is not up for debate, by now you know this is a command. With Ushijima’s lips now on your neck, his fingers pinching and tugging your nipples, his thigh flexing deliciously against your clit, you know you’re finished. You feel a shortness of breath as a wave of pleasure rushes over you and you fall limp in your boyfriend’s hold. The hand on your hips keeps you grinding into his thigh to elongate the pleasure and you sigh happily into his collarbone.

“Wakatoshi.” You moan and lightly kiss at his neck before sitting yourself back up to stop your hips from moving. Ushijima only pulls you onto his lap, his cock brushing against your folds through your thin shorts and you cry out at the sensation, your body still sensitive.

“Come here, let me take care of you.” With his lips brushing against your ear and his throbbing member resting underneath you, you know this night is far from over.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima smut #haikyuu smut

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 7/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

"You always hide here when you're down," Geto said, stepping onto the rickety floors of the abandoned wooden gazebo at the far edge of the walled gardens. It was meant to be torn down but for your insistence for it to stay erect.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag when you didn't answer, huddled on one of the corners of the hexagonal structure. "You really shouldn't have done that," he told you, his voice ringing crisp in the still air.

"You should really quit that dirty habit," you muttered in a form of retaliation, not really in the mood to be lectured.

"I could say the same with your games, Y/N!" he said harshly, the first time he ever would. It was more for the fact that he felt frustrated that you kissed him all for the benefit of another man as opposed to merely scolding you for whatever wrongdoing you've committed. He felt all the more frustrated that he was doing it at all.

"I'm sorry if I dragged you into this," you told him sincerely. "I shouldn't have –"

"I am not sorry," he interrupted you. "I wanted that for a while now."

"What?" You stood up and walked towards him, making him turn to face you. "What are you talking about?"

Geto placed a hand behind his neck, exhaling exaggeratedly and throwing his head back, closing his eyes momentarily before meeting your blue gaze. "I understand why Kento is taking this harder than what you're expecting." He sighed. "It probably would have been better if you kissed Yuuji instead."

You just blinked at him, perplexed. "I don't get it."

It's now or never. He wanted you to know at least before you made up your mind, but knowing you, he knew you already did. And he wasn't going to be your choice. "Look, I like you. I wanted you for myself ever since you entered university."

"Huh?"

"And three years ago, I told Kento about how I felt," he droned on. "And maybe he thinks that's still the case, that I am still his rival where you are concerned."

"So are you?" you demanded.

He shook his head, smiling as he blew smoke at the opposite direction. "I know a losing game when I see one, and honestly, I'm rooting for the two of you."

You clutched at his arm. "Suguru..."

He ruffled your hair, throwing his cigarette away and hugging you to his side. "Don't get me wrong, princess. I was hurt that I wasn't your favorite anymore. I wanted to tell you, but you beat me to it and told me you liked Kento instead."

"You'll always be my favorite," you said. "You guys don't get replaced, not to me. I love you all differently, and I have things I share with each of you that I can never have with the other."

Geto's eyes widened slightly at your words. "I'll hold you to that." He snickered then. "Seriously though, where the hell did the two of you get things so wrong? Everything just went to shit in a matter of hours. And I thought Ieiri and I were being very specific with our instructions to you."

"Ieiri?"

"She's been talking to Kento, too. You two are just too dense and slow."

You punched him on the arm, glaring at him.

"Ow!" he grumbled, rubbing at the sore spot. "I'm a model, you know. You're not supposed to mark me."

"Oh, is that what you tell all your girls?" you teased.

He rolled his eyes at you. "Kento already made it back to the house. You should apologize."

You stood on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, hugging him tight.

"You might want to refrain from doing just that, princess," he said but you just giggled and made your way back to the manor. "You're still my favorite!" you called out.

He took another stick if cigarette, chuckling at you, but as he was about to light it, he opted not to.

You've done it this time. You just knew it. You realized that when you sobered up from all the crying you did after the incident at the lake. It was too late to say you should have listened to Yuuji and regret wasn't really something you could relate to. Typically. Now, you wanted him to say, "I told you so." Him and Megumi. Throw in Nobara, too, but you knew you weren't going to forgive yourself if things didn't turn back the way they used to be where you and Nanami were involved. That was all you were hoping for if he really has been put off by the mere idea of you.

Geto was just as much of a trickster as you are, but what you did not foresee was the result and his reaction to you, and you weren’t exactly ready for the his confession. That was a first and after speaking with him, you understood. Nanami was downright outraged. He might have not gone all out on you about the matter but you knew there was something else he wasn't saying. He has always been considerate of your feelings, and you were afraid you've trampled on his. It was regardless of whether you meant it or not. You just crossed the line.

The situation wasn't good, and you knew Gojo would have killed you if he saw just how you were behaving at the lake, and you could just pray to every higher being out there that he never gets to find out or you’ll have no choice but to sit down and listen to his lecture. He may be averse to the idea of you dating any of his friends, and he may be the best brother anyone could have, but he would definitely not tolerate what you have done.

A bigger part of everything that’s been happening was your fault. You knew it, and you weren't afraid to admit it either. Although Nanami may have his faults for being so much of an over-thinker and being indecisive, he was right. Why couldn't you be a normal person for once and just be honest about how you feel? Why couldn't you just tell Nanami you loved him and you have been in love with him for the longest time? Again, you couldn't relate to the idea because you haven’t ever been able to healthily express your opinion, but enough was enough. You were going to do it tonight. It didn't matter what the result was. You wanted him in your life, and you’ll go through lengths to have him.

After tossing and turning on your bed for what seemed like hours and later wearing a path on your bedroom floor while fidgeting on the hem of your silk robe, you finally decided there was no way you were sleeping. You couldn’t if it saves you when the dread of him totally disappearing because of what you do gnawed at you from the inside.

You were worried sick of Nanami who disappeared after the incident. You called him on the phone several times but every attempt went straight to voicemail, and out of your frustrations, you found yourself retreating to that same spot where Geto found you. You were only able to rest easy when he spoke to you, telling you that Nanami already made it back to the manor.

Functioning on instinct, you got out of your room barefoot, the flaps of your robe flying behind you as you marched towards the guest room where he was staying. You even had your fist raised to knock on the door but at that very moment, you stopped. For the first time, you felt vulnerable. You didn't have a clue about what you would say to him the moment you see him. You didn't know how you would approach him or if it was already the right time to do so. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

Digging your nails into your palms, you listened for movement on the other side of the door when you heard the door to the adjoining bath open and close, followed by the quiet padding of bare feet on the carpeted floor. Your breath snagged, thinking of turning away. You decided to do just that but then, the door suddenly opened, making you squeak in surprise, the sight of him dressed in just his navy pajama bottoms causing you to ogle his muscular chest and abdomen.

Well shit, you thought. He was beyond hot.

"Er..."

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked, sounding mostly tired than mad. He didn't look happy to see you, but at least he didn't slam the door to your face. Too much of a violation to his manners, you surmised, tempted to tease him, but you opted not to. You weren't in any position to be playing your little games.

You exhaled in batches before you finally found your voice. "I... n-need to talk to you. Can I...come in?"

He just looked at you for a moment before taking a step back and opening the door wider for you. He then turned his bare back to you as he walked over to the bed, the muscles on his sides and back flexing with each movement. He then motioned for you to sit on the chair situated quite far from him before he himself sat down, waiting for you to talk.

You didn't sit down and instead stood behind the chair, gripping its back. "Look, I'm sorry."

He ran his fingers through his damp, blond locks, looking like a model for an expensive underwear brand as he did so. "Hmm. Are you now?"

Your throat grew dry, wishing you could smack yourself right there and then for thinking of other things when you were supposed to be apologizing sincerely to him. You knew that he was trying to be sardonic but you couldn't help but think how mesmerizing he sounded. Composing yourself, you nodded. "I am. Suguru and I –"

"I don't wish to hear it, Y/N."

"It didn't mean anything!" you finally snapped, breathing heavily and not realizing you've crossed halfway towards him. You stopped, catching yourself just in time. "I just..." You sighed. "I just wanted to make you jealous."

“Well, what the hell, Y/N! You’ve succeeded.” His jaw clenched as he said the words, eyes intent on you and unrelenting. “And guess what, you’ve done more than just make me feel jealous. You made me feel guilty, too, because I can’t help but think that I pushed you to do that because of what I said to you this morning. Are you happy?”

“No…” You shook your head, your breath snagging. “I was being selfish. None of it is your fault so you don’t have to feel that way. You’ve been trying to talk to me all day, and maybe I should have given you the chance, but being me, I relied on my baser instincts and made a game out of things again.”

He stood this time, towering over you. "That's all you know. Games," he told you quietly, his tone at odds to his words. "You never really cared who gets played in the end as long as you're amused." He reached over and picked up a few strands of your hair before flicking them off his fingers in disdain. "Isn't that what it is?"

His words hurt. "No..."

"Unfortunately, I got caught up in it, all the while thinking that maybe you'll spare me because..." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I lost again. Congratulations."

"I'm sorry."

"Sure." He scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm tired, Y/N," he said as he sat down on the bed, burying his face into his hands.

This was it, you thought to yourself. You can't miss your chance. It was regardless of the consequences. You told yourself that. You were not going to back down even if it means you get hurt. Even if it means he would reject you.

Without thinking twice, you moved closer to him, settling on your knees directly in front of him just by his feet. You reached for his hands, gently easing them away from his face. You smiled at how big they were compared to yours, his palms rough against your fingertips. He let you pull them away, slowly moving of their own accord to cup your face, his dark, intense eyes searching yours.

"Y/N, I can't do this anymore."

You chuckled even as tears glistened in your eyes. You brushed his hair away from his forehead. "You read minds now?"

"I'm serious."

"Forgive me. I couldn't help it."

"What are you –"

Before he can finish what he wanted to say, you pushed yourself up on your foot and pressed your lips against his. You felt him stiffen against you, his hand tightening over the slope of your hips as you pushed him forward. You placed your left foot on the bed just beside his thigh while your hands took possession of his face, smiling into the kiss when he finally moved and reciprocated in kind. Your toes curled in anticipation.

He pulled you down, mouths enmeshed, breaths in sync, until you were leveled to him. He raised a hand, placing it on the side of your face, making you lean against its warmth. Your eyes flew open when he pulled away and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering there before he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheek just beside your mouth. Nanami closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, his hand soothingly rubbing at your bare thigh.

He was breathing deeply, brows furrowed together. Unable to help it, you started planting butterfly kisses where you could reach, capturing his lips again, hand gently caressing his jawline. Nanami twisted around, laying you on the mattress and hovering over you, continuing to kiss you. His scent had stuck to the sheets engulfing your senses and rendering everything nonexistent but him. You were lost in a world filled with nothing but him and the feel of his hands roaming all over your body in slow, sensuous movements as if he was blindly mapping out your every contour and curve.

"I don't think we should be doing this," he breathed out, chuckling quietly, but in the next moment, he sought entrance to your mouth, his hot tongue finding yours, stealing your breath. You held on tight to him, thinking he was overthinking things again, easing his mind by returning his ministrations in kind, and locking him in place with your arms wrapped around his nape. You moved your leg from underneath him, brushing your thigh between his legs, making his breath hitch when you applied the slightest of pressure, feeling him becoming stiff as you rocked your thigh back and forth against him.

Nanami drew back slightly, cutting the kiss. He opened his eyes, looking at you longingly, fingers tracing your shoulder. He looked at you with uncertainty as he fiddled with the lapels of your robe. "Tell me to stop."

At that, you smirked at him, your fingers also wandering up the expanse of his hard abdomen, slowly trailing fire up his chest to his collarbones. You bit your lip between your teeth as his skin seemed to grow warmer where you were touching him, the way he was unsteadily breathing adding to your thrill, beyond glad you had that effect on him.

"I don't want you to stop, Kento." You rose a fraction on your elbow and pecked him on the tip of his nose. "I want you."

He sighed then. “Y/N, if we’re going to do this, I want you to be certain.”

“Like a hundred percent certain?” you teased. “What’s the legal jargon for that? Do you want me to say, ‘Sustained,’ or ‘No objections, your honor’?” You giggled and he joined in, shaking his head. “Way to kill the mood though.”

“Sorry.” He flashed you a rueful smile.

Reaching out, you cupped the side of his face, eyeing him with as much conviction and certainty as you could. “You should know by now that I don’t do things I don’t exactly want to do. And when I say I want this – I want you – then that’s precisely what I want.”

He nodded slowly.

“You’re still overthinking.”

“I’m just thinking of what to say to Satoru –”

“You chose the wrong time to be talking too much.” You pulled him close, crashing your lips to his in reckless abandon. It was sloppy at best, but you hoped it would convey your certitude and confidence in what you were about to engage in with him. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Kento, I could cry just having you this close to me.”

Your words seemed to have unlocked something in him as his pupils dilated and his clear eyes clouded with want, and you couldn’t have been more glad that you decided to tell him how you honestly felt. Nanami lowered his head, claiming your lips with his in a slow, gentle kiss, his lips making love to yours in a seductive rhythm that spoke volumes of what he can’t typically express with mere words. The urgency in his kisses increased and you matched his fervor with yours, slightly rising off the bed to meet him halfway, taking as much as you could as he took from you – your breath, your heart, your soul.

As if a switch flipped, his gentle movements turned careless as he grabbed your shoulder and slid the robe off you, throwing it somewhere behind him, eyes alight with excitement as he further undressed you, pulling your matching nightie down, smirking when he discovered you weren’t wearing a bra underneath.

“You planned this,” he rasped.

You grinned smugly at him. “Maybe I did.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, attacking your neck with open-mouthed kisses while his large hands took possession of your breasts, kneading them. You gasped when he caught one of your nipples, twisting it experimentally and watching your reaction when he latched his mouth onto the other, licking around it before giving it a particularly hard suck.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, eyes blowing wide when you heard the sound of your silks being ripped off of your body followed by a soft growl as he continued to devour your tender swells of flesh. His hands reached down, covetously taking your thighs, humming against your breast at the warmth and softness of your skin underneath the rough pads of his palms. He drew one hand upwards to the flimsy lingerie you were wearing, ripping it away wildly as well, making you gasp.

“Hey, don’t –”

Any protests you had died in your throat when he reached down the apex of your legs, his fingers immediately teasing your folds and rubbing gently. “Do you feel how wet you are, my love?” he rasped. “You want me this much?” When you didn’t answer, he prompted you by putting more pressure on the sensitive nub, making you buck off of the sheets with a squeaked out, “Yes.”

Your nether lips were slick with arousal and your clit started to become engorged as he touched you there, making you whine in pleasure as you carelessly threw your arms back on the mattress. He spread your legs wider, giving himself full access to your body while you lay there with hooded eyes, watching him have his way around you, his pupils dilated as he drank in every contour of your body.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, groaning in approval when you slightly arched your neck backwards, reveling in his touch. He started rubbing your clit in circles with just enough pressure to have you gripping on the sheets while his free hand took hold of your exposed breasts, kneading the supple flesh between his fingers. Nanami delighted in the way you looked writhing under his mercy, eyes hazy and mouth partly opened as you let out pleasured sounds, wishing to know how he can make you moan and tremble even more.

Nanami withdrew his hand from your chest and traced down the expanse of your belly until he reached your pelvis, securing you in place as he inserted his long digits into your throbbing cunt, going in and out. He chuckled softly at the sight of you taking his fingers in, the lewd sounds coming from your pooling juices as you clenched around him, spurring him on. He pressed down on your clit around and around, over and over again, circling around that sensitive part of you.

“Just like that,” you mewled, your hips lifting off the mattress to grind against his hand, meeting the friction he was creating and amplifying your desire.

He smirked as he hovered over you. “You just love this, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out, feeling your first orgasm hitting you when he started erratically thrusting his fingers into you, the movement of his wrists quick while every thrust was accompanied by your snagged breaths.

Feeling himself getting harder and more titillated with the way your body tossed and turned beneath him, with his free hand, he shoved down his silk pajama bottoms, tossing it away along with his underwear, releasing his cock from its confines. He was, however, taken aback when you suddenly pushed yourself up, smirking at him as your eyes shifted between his dark orbs and his erection, thick, long and pulsating.

Without a warning, you pushed against him, your hands tight on his broad shoulders until his back was against the mattress. Having successfully turned tables on him, you straddled his lap and claimed his lips for your own, kissing him hard and unrelenting while your hands ran down his pecs, down to his hard abs, one of them racing faster than the other as you reached for his length, wrapping your fingers around it, its heat sending you on a wild rush.

“You’re so hot,” you droned absently, making him smile.

“You’re hotter when you’re trying to dominate me like this,” he responded, chuckling.

“Don’t I always though?” you teased, your grip on him tightening slightly while you ran your thumb over his tip, spreading his precum all over the pinkish head, making him quaver in delight. Whatever response he had in mind died right there and then when you lifted yourself up aligning yourself with him. You grabbed the base of his length, guiding him leisurely inside you, the slow pace driving you both on the edge. Your legs shook slightly as you slid down onto him, using his firm thighs to anchor yourself until you were fully sitting on him, his cock buried deep inside you.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, out of breath, feeling himself nestled in your warmth, fitting tight and snug as if you were made just for him. He sat up slightly, holding onto your hips as he slid out slowly, almost to the hilt, holding you up before very gently easing his way back inside, continuing with that slow pace, building a rhythm you both got used to. You held onto his shoulders, meeting every languid thrust halfway, establishing connection with every movement of your bodies.

“Ah…Kento…” you keen, as you both moved against each other, feeling every part of each other against yourselves, melding in a soft embrace as you rode him up and down. You both couldn’t get enough of each other, your nails digging on his back while his hands held your waist in a bruising grip. Your hips met each other in a steady rhythm, the sounds of your moans filling the room, mingling with skin slapping on skin and distinct squelching as you repeatedly swallowed his cock into your hole, making you crumple in rapture.

He reached up, placing a hand at your nape, making you lean closer to press his mouth onto yours, your tongues meeting in a duel, your whimpers drowned out by the action. He released your lips in favor of your neck, progressing downwards as he nipped on your flesh, all the way to your collarbones until he reached your breast, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, making your toes curl as his ministrations brought about sensations that hyper-stimulated every one of your senses.

You luxuriated in everything that was him, the feel of his mouth on you, his length filling you up to the brim over and over again, in and out with every push, his smell, his warmth, the excitement leaping in his eyes while he focused on pleasuring you. You were caught in the midst of your love and fondness for everything that made up Nanami Kento, voicing it out by repeatedly saying, “I love you,” or broken parts of it anyway as if a prayer of fragmented pleas and exultation as he made you his.

He paused when he heard you say it, pulling away, his eyes wide as he gazed at you with his cloudy eyes suddenly becoming clearer while his vision focused on you. “Say that again,” he said.

“I love you,” you murmured, feeling your face grow warm at his unabashed scrutiny. Then again, “I love you,” with more conviction this time. “I’m madly in love with you, Kento.”

“You are?” he asked as if in disbelief, his mouth stretching into smile, eyes filling with joy when you nodded. And along with that, he felt himself growing even harder as if a silent affirmation to how he felt about you. “I love you, too.” He kissed you and laid you down on the bed. “So damn much.”

Nanami settled himself between your legs, placing them over his shoulders as he realigned himself with you, pushing in without preamble and pounding into you in a faster rhythm than earlier. He slid so easily inside of you as he pushed forward and pulled out again and again, the new position making your walls grip tighter around him while he fucked you deeper. He relished the way he was spreading you apart, mesmerized by the way you were connected.

“More,” you purred when you felt him hitting you right where you wanted him over and over again, making you see galaxies of stars as he rammed into you. “Right there.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” he panted, dipping himself even deeper. “You like that? You like how daddy fucks you?”

Your eyes shot open when he said that, knowing you were seeing a new facet of him you’ve never encountered before. But you were not able to dwell on that when you were prompted to respond with a rough, hard thrust, saying, “Yes, daddy. I do…so m-much,” when he pulled out all the way and shoved his dick back in, and in that same instant, you found yourself creaming around him. Your essence dripped down onto the sheets as he continued to thrust faster into you, his breath hitting your skin with the rhythm of his movements as he moaned your name, planting butterfly kisses on your neck.

“You’re so good,” he said as you clenched tighter around him. “Give me one more, baby.”

He hastened his pace even more, rising up with one of your legs hanging on his arm while his free hand reached down, playing with your clit, applying pressure and setting the tempo of his movements with his length which slid in and out of you unabatingly. Your moans were getting louder while your brain felt like it would turn to fizz as your heart pounded in your chest, holding onto the build of that familiar pooling of heat in your loins. In a sudden flurry of sensations, your body lifted clear off the bed as you came long and hard.

Nanami rode you through it, going even harder and rougher as groans started to spill out of his mouth, ending in a crescendo of your sensual cries and a dragged out moan from him as he came inside you, his white, hot seed coating your walls and overflowing out of you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to catch your breath, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you came down from your high. Everything felt detached and surreal as your mind started filling with thought after thought, dominated with nothing but the fact that he just made love to you, the idea not quite sinking in despite the panting, boneless mess that you are at that moment.

You gasped when you felt him pulling out of you before hovering over you to place a kiss on your forehead. You forced your eyes open to look at him, cracking into a crooked grin when you finally looked at him, his hands brushing away stray strands of hair from your sweat-matted forehead.

“I love you, Y/N,” he told you in hushed tones, while you were unable to do anything but nod weakly as your body succumbed to exhaustion.

He bet everything on Gojo’s wedding week. And it was all worth it.

The whole matter has not sunk in just yet, so much so that he didn’t get a wink’s sleep trying to make sense of it all, but mostly afraid that he will wake up in the morning and find that everything was just a dream. A very vivid, beyond pleasant dream. But the sun rose in the horizon, and as he lay there awake, he had his proof of everything that happened beside him, asleep and very much real, pressed against his side.

When you came to him the previous night, he was certain things between you would end. If he was being honest, he has had it with your playing. He didn’t know exactly what your aims were the previous night until you made the move. Again, if he was being honest, he was also being a coward, always the one at the end of the rope you were reaching for. He wanted to switch your positions for a change, but when he did, it felt like he was getting nowhere, just pulling the rope without anyone at the end.

He thought he had lost when you kissed Geto in front of him, didn’t know what to do with the information when you said you were doing it to make him jealous. And no matter how low you went just to get his attention or to retaliate to his lack of response to you the previous day, he couldn’t say he didn’t like that you did it, too. He didn’t like it per se, but your motivations behind it spoke volumes of how you felt. He was just too blind to see it.

You were right about certain things, one of them being the fact that he was supposed to know you and understand how you communicated. Another was the fact that it wasn’t too much for you to ask him to be selfish for his sake and yours. He had wanted to act exactly that way for a long time, and when you were giving him the chance, he walked away from it instead. And as per usual, you were the one who fought your way against him for the same aim of having him.

He sighed, shifting to his side to face your slumbering form. He felt his heart melting at the sight of you softly breathing and appearing so serene snuggled against him and wearing his shirt. He could almost laugh when you suddenly fell asleep on him right after he made love to you. He sighed, knowing you wouldn’t wake up any time soon after you closed your eyes, decided to clean you up and dress you up before settling beside you, too.

But out of everything, since the previous night, whenever he would remember you telling him you loved him, his heart just stops for a second only to resume its beating in irregular staccatos. You told him you could almost cry having him that close to you, but he was the one who felt like shedding tears about having you.

He bet his heart knowing there was a possibility that you would just toy with it and break it. In the end, he finally got everything he wanted in your person. He should have already known that in order to get to you, he has to go through everything, have his heart shattered if that’s what it would take. He wanted to peel all your protective layers, but you ended up doing that to him instead, and it was safe to say you succeeded. Still, although he felt like dying when he saw you kissing Geto, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d go through it all again if it meant he would get you in the end.

Nanami caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling when you scrunched your nose a bit, your brows furrowing slightly. Just then, your eyes opened, your ocean-blue irises devouring him in an instant in waves of emotions, the most dominant of them all being gratitude towards whatever higher power brought you to the world to exist and love him when you could have anybody else.

You broke into a sleepy grin the moment you saw him. “Good morning, daddy,” were the first words that came out of your mouth, teasing him the moment you woke up.

He felt heat suffuse his cheeks when you said that, flashing you a pained look. It hadn’t been embarrassing when he suddenly decided he had a daddy kink and wanted to hear you say it, but now that he has sobered up from the feel of you against him, he didn’t exactly want you to say it, not when you were mercilessly ragging him for it first thing in the morning. He didn’t detest it though.

Nanami diverted his gaze from you, his face turning red, but you abruptly rose slightly, grabbing both sides of his face to make him look at you.

“What are you getting all shy around me for?” you cooed. “Don’t you like it when I call you that?” You smirked. “Come to think of it, I was startled when you said that, too.”

“Are you making fun of me?” he said, pouting.

Your eyes rounded and you let go of him, even going to the extent of moving away from him.

“What?” he asked, suddenly panicked as he sat up, grabbing your arm, afraid you’ll walk away.

You clucked your tongue. “D-don’t do that…that p-pouting thing…” you spoke haltingly, unable to talk properly as you pinched the bridge of your nose, looking flustered.

“Do what?” he asked, not quite catching what you were saying.

“Don’t go acting cute so early in the morning. I’m not used to this side of you. Jesus, Kento,” you told him all in one go, your hands flailing about. “You’re messing with me.”

He arched a brow at you and started laughing heartily. You were genuinely distressed and he didn’t know what he would do with you. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know you were not immune to my charms.” He pulled you towards him, making you face him. “How are you feeling by the way?”

“I’m fine.”

“Not sore anywhere?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Fishing for compliments now?”

He shook his head slowly, not understanding what you were talking about. “I don’t think we’re on the same page.” He started fussing around you then, even lifting his shirt which you were wearing, slightly looking for telltale signs of the possibility that he could have hurt you in any way when he spotted bruises on your hips. “Oh no.”

“Why?” you asked, blinking cluelessly when you saw what he was looking at. To your surprise, he suddenly took you in his arms, his expressions indicating distress. “What’s going on?”

“I hurt you,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

It was your turn to laugh. “You obliterated me, Kento, but I’m not sorry about it.” You pulled away from him and pecked him on the lips. “You were awesome.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I should go easy on you. I don’t really like the idea of injuring you in any way.”

You narrowed your eyes on him. “You’ve set the bar on how good you can be between the sheets. If you hold back on me, I’ll throttle you. Maybe I’ll ask Satoru for help, too.”

“What –”

“You’ve been warned, Nanamin.” You leaned forward, planting your face on his chest. “Stop worrying. I don’t regret anything, and if you make love to me as well as you did last night every single day, I’ll gladly have my battle scars.”

Nanami cupped your head, rubbing soothingly, his eyes meeting yours while a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“You love me.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I do. With all that I am.”

“Stop getting into a tizzy then.”

“Okay, Y/N.”

“Okay, Kento.”

“Are you always going to call me by my name now?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “I like it better than when you call me Nanamin.”

Your brows knit together then. “I’ve kinda gotten fond of that nickname though. But if that’s what you want, I’m down for it, too.” You grinned at him. “Kento.”

Nanami broke into a smile, but then you said, “Can I always call you 'daddy' instead?” He rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. “I’ll throttle you.”

You chuckled. “My mother would flip!”

“Satoru would flip.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you stayed that way for a few moments, just enjoying the comfortable silence while you listened to his heartbeat and basked in his warmth, his muscular arms wrapped around you securely. You’ve never felt safer.

You were, however, the first to break it.

“Kento?” you began.

“Yes, my love?”

“What are we now?”

“You’re all mine and I’m yours,” he stated firmly.

“So we’re official?”

He scoffed. “If last night wasn’t enough to make us official, I’d be happy to prove it further to you. You’re the woman I’ll marry. I’m not giving you a choice on that.”

You snickered. “Fine.”

“Fine?” he repeated with inflection, pushing you down on the mattress while he hovered over you. “Why do you sound as if you don’t like it?”

You burst into bubbles of laughter. “I’m not complaining…”

“But?”

“If that’s the case, I want Satoru to know first before the others. Is that okay?”

He nodded. “That’s just fair, I think.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you. When do you want us to tell him?”

You held his hand, entwining your fingers together and beaming tenderly at the way yours were engulfed by his. “Soon. Very soon.”

-end of part 7-

Aaaaand we're down to the second to the last chapter. This one's rather self-indulgent and I got carried away with the the "daddy" thing lol. Anyway, I would like to say thank you to everyone who's been reading this fic and looking forward to my updates. You guys make me happy!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

breathe — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

prompt: her death leaves behind a void in draco’s chest nothing can ever fill.

t/w: death and mentions of anxiety

requests are open. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

Five months.

He's gone five months without her. And he's determined to keep going—he has to. He has to.

But goddamn does it bloody well hurt.

—

In the middle of a quiet cemetery stands a boy in a black suit and a cluster of white roses clasped in his hands, eyes staring but unseeing as he stands over one of the countless tombstones with his heart in his throat and what feels like a gaping hole inside his chest.

"I miss you."

Snow falls from the sky. Bits of it sink deep into the fabric of his suit, fall into his hair, some onto his face. But Draco doesn't feel it, the bite of the cold. His knuckles may have turned a pinkish red from the frost and his blond hair may have turned stiff from the flakes of snow stuck in it, but he doesn't feel cold.

He's been cold for five months now. He can't feel it anymore.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

It has, says the voice inside his head that keeps him company when he feels the loneliest—when the pain becomes too much to bear—the voice that he knows isn't real and hates that it isn't. The one that sounds painfully like her.

"Yeah," Draco continues, bottom lip trembling, and it's not because of the snow. "I'm doing okay." He lies. Keeps lying. "I think I'm getting better."

He's not. He can't get better, not when he sees traces of her everywhere, even when she isn't really there.

He sees a wooden desk and remembers her with her head bowed over a sheet of parchment, tongue poking out of her lips in concentration as she chides him—"Not now, Draco, I'm studying"—he pulls out an old chessboard from the crevices of his closet and remembers her grinning in triumph over winning a particularly intense chess game even though he lost on purpose—he walks past a park and remembers lying on the grass in the Hogwarts courtyard with his head in her lap and her fingers raking through his hair as she told him Muggle stories of love and tears and laughter and everything in between. Stories with happy endings; so unlike Draco's and hers.

He squeezes his eyes shut; tears fall and trickle down his cheek onto the ground, joining the bundle of snow at his feet.

"Life hasn't really been the same since—"

A sob tears its way up his throat and out of his lips before he can even think about suppressing it.

"—since you left."

With his other hand—the hand that's not grasping onto the bouquet of roses like it's a lifeline—he wipes his tears away aggressively, almost angrily.

"I've started talking to myself a lot lately even though I know you're not going to respond because I've been so used to you being here to listen and now you're not."

Another sob. Pathetic, says a voice inside Draco's head. Not her voice. Never hers. She would never make him feel bad for feeling things—no, she'd crouch down next to him on the floor, wrap her arms around him and say "Everything's going to be okay, love. I'm right here with you. Right here" and he'd look up at her and start crying even harder, because in a world where his parents expected too much from him and he was never good enough, he had her.

Or, well. He used to.

Draco clenches his fists, nails digging crescents into his skin as his breathing gets uneven and the air suddenly feels too tight. He tries to ground himself by inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth and repeating the process—

"That's it, love. Keep breathing. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Draco took another shaky breath, trying to focus on her face even though her features were blurred and he didn't quite know where to look through the tears obscuring his vision.

Panic attacks. He hated them. Hated the hand that felt like it had reached straight into his chest and started squeezing. Hated the tears that slipped out of his eyes almost automatically.

"It's okay, Draco. Breathe with me."

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, shoulders trembling from the effort. "You're doing such a good job, Draco," she said gently. Draco let out a long, shuddering breath. "You're doing so well. Now breathe. Breathe with me. In through the nose, out through the mouth—that's it, love, keep going. In through the—the—" her voice broke. Draco couldn't see it—and maybe it was better that way—but she'd started crying at some point.

"In through the nose," she continued, swallowing back a sob. "Out through the mouth. I love you, Draco. You're gonna be okay."

"I know you'd probably get mad at me for this if you were here, but sometimes.. well.. sometimes I find myself wishing I was dead."

And even though there's no one around that's listening and Draco is the only living, breathing soul among the countless graves, he feels exposed. Bare. Like he's laid his biggest vulnerability out for the rest of the world to see.

"I wake up everyday," he says slowly, a crease in between his brows, "I stare up at the ceiling for a little bit. And then I get up, eat, sleep. Get up, eat, sleep. Over and over and over again."

A pause. "It all just seems so.. pointless," he bows his head, staring at his shoes as though he's ashamed. And he is. He's ashamed that he's like this—because he knows that if she were here (which she isn't, says that annoying little voice at the back of his head) she'd smack him upside the head and say

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco," she rolled her eyes, glancing up for a brief moment before transferring her gaze back to the textbook in her hands.

Draco fell quiet again, staring into the embers of the fireplace. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to ask her to drop everything and run away with him on a whim.

A few seconds passed in silence. She looked up at him again out of concern to find that he hadn't moved at all. A twinge of sadness plucked at her chest and she sighed, closing the book with a soft snap as she set it down on the floor.

Draco lost himself in his thoughts sometimes. It wasn't a common occurrence, but she'd seen it enough times to know how bad it could get inside his head. It was a side of himself that he only felt comfortable enough showing to her and her only—a side that he'd kept well hidden under the facade of arrogance he always had put up.

It was when he would start thinking about—well—everything. How he never seemed to match up to his parent's expectations no matter how hard he tried. He'd think about his obligations as the heir of one of the oldest pureblooded wizarding families. He'd think about his future and wonder if he deserved one with her with that dirty mark on his wrist.

Usually it would take quite a while to snap him out of his reverie, but tonight Draco seemed more lost in his thoughts than ever before. When she got up from the carpet to sit down next to him on the couch, his eyes were still hazy and unfocused. "Draco," she murmured, sitting with her feet tucked underneath her as she turned to face him. "Draco?"

Her hands reached out for Draco's, fingers slipping into the spaces between his own of their own accord. At this, he blinked, his gaze clearing, and looked at her.

"Love," he breathed quietly.

She pursed her lips in a small smile, squeezing his hand in hers. "I'm here," she told him, basking in the silence of the Slytherin common room, only interrupted by the sound of her and Draco's breathing and the crackling sounds from the fireplace. She shifted on the couch to make herself more comfortable, leaning the side of her head on Draco's shoulder and ignoring the ache of sadness in her chest that would always come when Draco felt down.

"Galleon for your thoughts?" she whispered.

Draco unlaced her hand from his to slowly trace the lines on her palm with his index finger. "It'd take much more than a galleon, love," he whispered back, and there was a ghost of a small smile on his lips, but it was blanketed by the worry etched deep into his face.

The corners of her mouth tugged up into a sad smile. There was nothing in the world that she wanted more than to rid Draco of all the worries plaguing his head. He'd grown up surrounded by so much despair and for years he had no one but himself to carry his burden with, but now here she was. And even though she'd already done everything she could to help him—and she continued to do so every single day—it never felt like it was enough.

"You know you can always tell me everything, yeah?" she said quietly, looking up at him from the corner of her eyes.

Draco, with his gaze fixed on their hands, nodded. "Yeah."

"I mean it. Always."

He smiled, and it was a real one this time. "I know."

The snow has stopped falling. Draco tastes tears, hot and salty, on his tongue.

"I'm going to keep going, though," he tells her. Hangs onto the tiny sliver of hope he has that she is out there somewhere, listening. "I'm going to.. I'm going to keep getting up and eating and sleeping until it doesn't feel so tiring anymore. Okay?"

Silence. "Does that sound good, love?"

Like shouting into a canyon and waiting for an echo that would never come.

"I know that's what you'd want," he says quietly, gritting his teeth. "For me to keep living. Not to give up. So that's what I'm going to do."

"Don't give up."

Draco snorted out a laugh. "Shouldn't you be telling yourself that?"

He was sitting with her at their usual table in the library; the one right by the window near the restricted section. She had a Potions quiz tomorrow—Draco being the "smartass" he was (or so she called him), didn't need to study, but she did. Him being her boyfriend, he'd offered to tutor her, unaware that it was easier said than done. She just couldn't, for the life of her, get the terms right.

She scoffed. "I don't need to tell myself that. I won't give up no matter what—you, on the other hand.."

Draco scrunched his nose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying you have a tendency to stop trying and call it a day."

"That is a lie."

"Is not."

"Well, I suppose it depends on the task—if it's tutoring you, then anyone's bound to give up.."

"Hey!" she reached over the table to smack him on the shoulder. He swiftly dodged, laughing. She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smile on her face as she sat back down. "Maybe I should be getting a different tutor."

"Or maybe you should just be studying harder."

"Or maybe you should actually be trying to teach me—"

"I am!"

"—without giving up halfway!"

Draco huffed. "Okay. Fine. Let's try this again. What's another word for wolfsbane?"

"Um," a pause. "No idea. Okay. I'm sorry."

He let out an overly dramatic sound of complaint.

"Don't give up, Draco," she reminded him, fighting back a laugh. "Don't give up."

Draco crouches down next to the grey tombstone already decorated with all sorts of flowers from friends and family and places his own set of white roses right next to her name. With hands that won't stop trembling, he pulls out a tiny box from his pocket.

"I was supposed to give this to you after the war," he says quietly, presses his palm to the snow under which he knows she's resting, looking as breathtaking as she always has with her eyes closed.

"I wish I could've given it to you when I had the chance, but.."

"Don't do this to me, love."

Draco couldn't think straight. He gathered her into his arms and cradled her the way he had done countless times before, except this time she wasn't smiling up at him with a familiar sparkle in her warm eyes—no, she was limp and cold and her eyes were open but unseeing.

"No no you can't—you can't do this to me—" Draco was gasping for breath that wasn't there. Choking on his tears, he shook his head repeatedly, rocking back and forth on the ground, "Look at me, love, you promised you wouldn't leave—"

In the middle of a destroyed hallway, with the battle of Hogwarts in full fledge all around him, a boy in bloodied robes and an entire ocean caught between his lashes knelt on the ground, cradling the only person who had ever mattered to him in his arms as she did exactly what he was begging her not to do—

"You can't leave me like this, love. Don't leave me like this, please please—"

—and died.

Left him. Just like that.

In the middle of the empty cemetery, a boy in a black suit kneels next to a tombstone, hands shaking as they gingerly set down a small, golden ring on the grave marker. Pulling out his wand, he whispers a spell and enchants the beautiful golden band to stay there for as long as the world exists.

Draco closes his eyes, inhales through his nose, exhales through his mouth.

And then he leaves.

Just like that.

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hoekaashi · 4 years

Text

a/n: I had this for a while and kept forgetting to post it so here we gooo. again, this is post time skip so these characters are aged up. i feel like it’s rushed so if it is, lemme know so i can work on my shitty pacing skills. i hope you enjoy! pairings: ushikags x reader warnings: road head, fingering, rough sex, face fucking, tired and bratty reader, semi-public (?) sex, spanking, creampie taglist: @suckersuki, @babydabi, @bakugoustanaccount, @animoozies, @bleedinqhearts

You fell asleep in the back of the car while your two boyfriends were up front, listening to music quietly. You had suggested that the three of them go somewhere during your short vacation from work since the boys were given some time off from practice too. Unfortunately, they had gotten into an argument during their last match and there was still so much tension between them. Things were awkward at home so you hoped that this trip would help them move past their dumb fight and things would go back to normal.

A sudden swerve of the car woke you up. Sitting and rubbing your eyes, you asked what was happening. But you understood once you looked at them. Kageyama was leaning over with his face in Ushijima’s lap and from the way the latter was gripping the steering wheel, you knew what was happening. At some point while you were sleeping, Kageyama decided to give Ushijima a blow job. You were sad you missed it, but moving forward, you got a better view of what was happening. Ushijima’s left hand was steering the car while his right hand was tangled in Kageyama’s hair. His jaw was tense and you could tell he was close. As much as you wanted to join them, you preferred to watch as Ushijima tried to drive normally while Kageyama deepthroated him.

The sight of the two of them made you wet and you pushed your thighs together for some relief but the sounds Kageyama was making made it impossible for you to sit still. Sitting back with a view of Kageyama’s head bobbing up and down, you pulled your shorts and underwear down. Spreading your legs, you began to run your fingers up and down your slit. Your quiet moans caught the attention of Ushijima who looked back at you slightly before turning his attention back to the road. You pretended that you didn’t notice and moaned louder as you began to rub your clit. You saw him push Kageyama’s head down and held him there, knowing that your moans were the final push to get him to cum.

Kageyama sat up after swallowing everything and looked back at you. His eyes were watering and at the corner of his mouth there was a mix of saliva and the cum he couldn’t swallow dripping from it. From the look in his eyes, you could tell that he was still hungry. Unbuckling his seat belt, he climbed into the back of the car as Ushijima yelled at him for his reckless behavior. You shifted until your upper back was resting on the car door with Kageyama between your legs. He placed a hand around your neck, pulling you into a hungry kiss. You were surprised by his intensity but all it did was make you more horny. His other hand quickly rubbed your clit and you moaned into his mouth. His actions were fast and rushed, but his eagerness turned you on even more. You pulled at his shirt. He broke the kiss and took it off before diving back in. You could taste Ushijima still on his tongue.

One of his fingers pushed into you and just that small motion made your hips buck up. You pulled back, your nails digging into his shoulders, both of you extremely needy for each other. You told him that you needed more and Kageyama smirked. He commented on how tight were and how just watching him give head made you this wet. You let out a breathy moan when he added another finger and nibbled on your collarbone. The tank top you were wearing had shifted and Kageyama used this to pull one of your bra cups down so he could mark up your breast. A hand found purchase in his hair while the other grabbed the door handle behind you.

Using his thumb, Kageyama circled your clit as his fingers sped up. He could tell you were getting close. Your moans were getting louder and you arched your back higher. Biting down on your sensitive nipple had you cumming on his fingers. He helped you ride out your orgasm, but from the way he was looking at you, you knew he wasn’t done. He cleaned up his fingers as he shifted lower until his face was hovering over your pussy. The feeling of his tongue licking up and down your slit had you moaning his name. He ate you out like a starved man, alternating between sucking on your clit and licking your folds. Kageyama gave no warning as he pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them to rub that sweet spot. Your hands were gripping his hair for dear life and his name fell off your lips like a mantra. You came for the second time just from Kayegama’s fingers and mouth alone, the sensitivity from your first orgasm helping the second one arrive faster. From the way his mouth was still working, you knew that it wasn’t going to be the last time.

You tried to push him off of you, the overstimulation too much, but his grip on your thighs was solid and your pleas for him to stop soon turned into moans once again. You didn’t notice that Ushijima had parked the car in a secluded area until the door opened and he caught your head so you didn’t hurt yourself. The sight of you - Kageyama in between your legs, your arms pushing your newly marked breasts together, your back arched, and your mouth open from silent moans - caused Ushijima to twitch in his pants. Hearing Kageyama eat you out mixed with your moans caused him to become instantly hard again, but he refrained from touching himself until he could park the car.

You opened your eyes and saw Ushijima staring down at you with the same hungry look Kageyama had. The tension between the two of them turned sexual at some point over the last two weeks and they had finally snapped. Ushijima pulled his dick out of his jeans and you could see the dark spot left behind by his precum. He told you to open your mouth, and as much as you wanted you, you hated being easy. Kageyama still had his fingers knuckle deep in you as Ushijima glared down. He hated it when you acted like a brat and spanking usually did the trick, but this was not the time nor place for him to get you to behave. He also didn’t want to be forceful with you especially since he was still mad from the fight he had with Kageyama.

The latter had a plan to get you to comply though. He replaced his fingers with his cock, filling you up in one quick motion and causing you to open your mouth wide as you moaned from the sensation. Ushijima used this opportunity to shove his dick down your throat. Your moans were instantly muffled as Kageyama kept thrusting into you from one side and Ushijima from the other. You gagged around Ushijima’s dick, the tip constantly hitting the back of your throat. Kageyama could feel you getting close and leaned forward to wrap a hand around your throat. He groaned when he could feel Ushijima’s dick moving under his palm. You had tears in your eyes from how Ushijima was fucking your mouth. As Kageyama tightened his grip on you, and both of them picked up their pace, you felt yourself cumming for the third time. The vibrations from your moans had Ushijima’s eyes rolling back and he had to brace himself on the car. Kageyama stopped moving because of how tightly your walls were squeezing him.

Once your orgasm had finished, the two men pulled out of you leaving you feeling completely empty. Ushijima gently lifted your head, your neck sore from the position it had been in and Kageyama shifted back to give you space. Ushijima told you to get on your hands and knees for them. You were tired and sore and wanted a break. So when you simply sat on the seat and relaxed, both of the men grew irritated. Kageyama grabbed your hair by the base of your neck and pulled you closer to him and Ushijima grabbed you hips and forced you on your knees. The roughness of how they were handling you turned you on even more than before. Kageyama grabbed your chin and placed his thumb in your mouth. Your lips wrapped around it instantly and sucked while you looked up at him with doe eyes. They were still watering from earlier and a part of him wanted to give your throat a break, but another part of him wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be able to talk the next day. He watched as your eyes rolled back before you closed them and your mouth fell open slightly. Ushijima had pushed himself in and began pounding into you. His dick was big, the stretch always hurt a bit, but he refused to give you the luxury of adjusting to his size after your bratty actions. His hands were on your waist, pushing you down. The pressure forced you onto your forearms and Kageyama readjusted so he was sitting with his dick right under your mouth. At this point, you were too blissed out and tired to focus on anything so Kageyama guided your head to his dick and you obediently began to suck. You could taste yourself on him still as your tongue worked along the underside of his dick. His hands were tangled in your hair and continued to gently guide your head up and down his shaft. His actions were a stark contrast to Ushijima’s who had begun to slap your ass as he fucked you. The harder he slammed into you, the tighter you felt around him. The sight of Kageyama face fucking you caused him to move his hips faster.

Kageyama, by now, had you choking on his dick, the tip of it repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. The way your throat constricted around him and the vibrations of your moans caused him to cum in your mouth and you worked hard to swallow it all. He pulled you off of him and rested your head in his lap, petting your hair as Ushijima began to rub your clit. The two of you were close and he refused to cum before you did. It didn’t take long before you were crying out from your fourth orgasm with Ushijima cumming inside of you immediately after. He slowly pulled out and watched his cum drip out of your pussy. If he wasn’t still holding up your hips, you would’ve collapsed by now. He took off his shirt and used it to clean you up, telling you over and over again how you did so well for them. Once you were clean, they helped you get dressed and laid you back down on the back seat. The two of them fixed their own clothes, Ushijima rummaging for a new shirt in his bag, and got back on the road. You fell asleep quickly, muttering an ‘I love you’ to the both of them, barely being able to say the words. Kageyama simply reached behind him and gave your leg a gentle squeeze, not wanting to disturb the wave of sleep washing over you.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x reader smut #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama x reader smut #ushikage x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #ushikage smut

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

Text

Better Than Fiction

Summary - What happens when Dean catches you reading a very inappropriate piece of writing?

Pairing - Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic)

Warning - Fluff, Angst, Crack, Smut (the four horsemen are in this fic), unprotected sex 18+, kissing, swearing, fanfiction, a bit of ogling Dean.

Word count - 2.6k

Square filled - Smut ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - This is my submission to @evilskank-inthemegacoven's Bingo challenge. This is also my second submission to @supernatural-jackles' Biweekly challenge. Prompts are in bold (2 prompts used)

I wrote this crack fic because I was going through a terrible writer's block and I had to write something different from what I usually write. Hope you like this!

Thanks to @miss-nerd95 for beta'ing this! <3

You gasped loudly as he threw you over the bed, pupils blown with lust as he drank you in. You had never seen such hunger in his eyes. He was hungry and he made that clear as he ripped off your blouse in one swift motion leaving you just in your shorts.

All of your rational thoughts flew out of the window as he started leaving kisses down your body. His hands massaged one of your breasts as his mouth latched onto another, eliciting a deep moan from your mouth as his tongue flicked your hardened nipple.

You knew this was bad but you were taken by the piece of writing like a moth drawn towards the flame. You had put your hands in the fire, willingly, and now you were going to get burned by it, but you couldn't stop yourself from reading the next lines.

“De-” you whimpered as he let go of your nipples and started to work on your pants. His hands brushed your clothed core as he murmured, “Mhm, so wet for me already. How long have you been thinkin’ ‘bout me, sweetheart?” Dean ripped your panties and let out a low growl, making you shiver in anticipation.

“Long enough.” You purred. He pulled at your panties as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His teeth grazed your lower lips, drawing out a low moan out of you.

A small whimper left your lips as you looked around the empty bunker, thanking your luck that Sam and Dean were both out to pick up some supplies. You contemplated whether to move your reading to your bedroom or stay at the War Room table surrounded by piles of lore books.

You didn't even know how you ended up on this fansite because all this time you clearly had no idea that fans from all over the world were writing certain stories involving the Winchester based on the books by Carver Edlund. You were supposed to be researching for new cases, not read some erotic piece of writing about Dean Winchester, your best friend, but you somehow opened this site and you did come across a really sensual story, and ever since you started reading it, you couldn't stop. So there was no turning back now.

You let out a little sigh as you read on, knowing very well your panties were now ruined.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered into your ears. He licked his lips, his eyes raking over your naked form.

“And you're overdressed,” you whined tugging at his jeans.

“Someone's a little too eager,” he smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor. You could see his growing excitement strain against the material of his jeans. Your hands reached out to palm the very noticeable bulge but he quickly swatted your hand away.

“Tonight is not about me, it's about you, sweetheart.” He smirked.

“Mhm,” you nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence. You threw your head back as you cried out in ecstasy when Dean put a finger inside you. He pumped twice before adding another. Your eyes fluttered shut as he curled his fingers in you, the tips brushing against your g-spot repeatedly, the action drawing out a loud moan from you. You could feel yourself edging towards the climax as Dean kept on repeating the motion.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop your own moan that was threatening to leave your mouth. Your free hand gripped your thigh tightly, nails digging into your skin through your jeans as you felt your face on fire.

“Fuck,” you cursed as he pulled out his fingers just before you could come. He had a devilish smirk on his face and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off. He quickly opened the button on his jeans before pushing it down along with his boxers, his hard length springing free. You watched him as he took his cock in his hands, pumping himself twice before rubbing up and down his length, the tip of his length beaded with precum.

“Are you going to fuck me tonight?” You were getting annoyed with his teasing.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” Dean pressed his lips onto yours in a chaste kiss before lining himself in front of your entrance. You sucked in a deep breath as he pushed himself in you. He-

You slammed your laptop shut as you heard the boys coming down the stairs. So lost in the story, you didn't even hear the boys closing the door of the bunker.

“Honey, we're home!” Dean teased, as he rounded the corner of the stairs and stood across the table. “You okay?” He narrowed his eyes at you as he placed the pack of beer on the table.

“Y-yeah. I'm great. Awesome. Amazing. Fantastic,” you blurted out and mentally slapped yourself - like that was totally going to help you and not raise any suspicion.

You looked at Dean with hooded eyes, feeling like you were seeing him in a new light. Were his eyes always this beautiful shade of green? Your eyes travelled downwards as you gulped at the sight of his jeans hanging low on his hips.

“Y/N?” You jumped at the voice of Sam.

“W-what?”

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed,” he asked with worries in his eyes.

“Stop asking me if I'm okay!” You exclaimed.

“Okay,” Dean raised up his hands in defence. Grabbing your laptop from the table, you stood up and turned on your heels to go to your room.

It had been three days since you had read the story about Dean, which you had eventually completed reading once you were alone in your bedroom. Three days since you had spent every spare minute you had to look up more of those writings about Dean. But now, you regretted it because every time you crossed paths with him, you wanted nothing but to rip his clothes off and jump his bones. You cursed Chuck for writing about the lives of the Winchesters and publishing it, giving way to the inspirations for these fanfictions. Your feelings toward him had intensified and you couldn't even form a complete sentence without stuttering while talking to him.

Even though Dean was indifferent to the change in your actions, Sam had quickly caught on to it but you had kept your mouth tightly shut, though you didn't know how long you would be able to control yourself around him - especially after tonight.

As you laid in the bed of a rundown motel room, you picked up a pillow to cover your ears, trying to drown out the voices coming from Dean's room. The banging of the headboard against the paper thin wall and the loud moans of the girl made you wonder if sex with Dean was really as good as you read in the stories. You looked over to the other bed in the room and saw Sam’s chest rise and fall accompanied by heavy breathing, indicating he was in deep sleep but Dean's low grunts and moans from the other room made it impossible for you to get any sleep that night.

“Morning,” Dean strolled into your room the next morning, with a stupid ‘I got laid’ look on his face. You glanced at him while sipping your coffee but refrained from saying anything.

“Next time, stay at another motel if you decide to bring home a girl,” Sam grumbled at his brother.

“So this is what it is all about? I swear you both are so uptight. You just need to get laid,” he smirked, taking a seat at the table across you.

You looked at him again but didn't say anything. You knew it was stupid to be angry at him. He was a man with needs and it was not like you had said anything to him about your crush.

“What's the matter with you?” Dean asked. You ignored his question as you grabbed your FBI clothes before marching off into the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, you let out a sigh of relief. You couldn't think straight with Dean Winchester looking like a freaking Vogue model in a suit. You took your sweet time to put on your clothes before leaving the bathroom.

“Y/N,” Dean said the moment you entered the room. You didn't even bother to look at him. “You can't ignore me forever.”

“I'm not ignoring you,” you finally spoke, “I'm just not talking to you.”

“Why? What did I do, sweetheart?”

“I'm not your sweetheart, Dean Winchester,” you snapped, surprising him.

“Easy there tiger,” he joked before slipping into his work persona, “So what do we have?” Dean picked up your laptop and logged into it before you could say anything. Your eyes widened in horror and embarrassment as you saw Dean’s face scrunch up, his eyes moving swiftly over the laptop screen.

“I had no idea you were into fifty shades, Y/N,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“This. You were reading porn.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh Y/N. I was so wrong abo-” He suddenly stopped mid sentence as the playfulness left his face. “What is this?” Dean frowned.

“I….I don't-” You stammered. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to find out.

“Dean?” Sam called out to his brother, noticing his change in expression. The older Winchester shoved the laptop towards his brother, all the while glaring at the electronic device.

“What the hell?” Sam exclaimed as he took a look at the screen. “Y/N. Tell me you weren't-”

“She clearly was.” You winced at how Dean spit out those words.

“I can explain. I just came across-”

“Don't.” Dean snapped and stormed out of the room.

The hunt was a success and right now you and the Winchesters were celebrating the success in a bar. You rolled your eyes as you saw Dean flirting with a blonde so you knew you weren't going to get any sleep tonight either but what bothered you the most was that Dean had barely spoken any words to you since he found out about the stories.

“Hey are you okay?” Sam asked as you sat there at the counter nursing a glass of drink.

“Y-yeah I'm fine,” you whispered.

“Talk to me. You know your secrets are always safe with me,” he smiled.

“What's left to say? I came across a story. It was an erotic piece of writing with, uh-Dean, and I read it. Now I can't look at him without thinking that I invaded his privacy. I know it's all fiction but I read porn about my best friend. Everytime I see him, I am reminded of how he flicks his tongue-”

“Y/N! Too much information,” Sam groaned.

“Sorry.”

“What you did is wrong but you can't turn back time, can you?”

“No but what am I supposed to do?”

“Get laid. Relieve some of that tension.” Sam shrugged, making you glare at him.

“I love your brother, Sam who is over there flirting with that blonde, not talking to me. I-I can't do this. It's better if I just pack up my bags and permanently move to Antarctica.” You muttered.

“Y/N, be realistic. Talk to him or find someone to scratch your itch.” Sam said, getting out of his seat before walking away from you. You flagged the bartender for another round when you noticed a man slide into the seat next to you.

“Hey gorgeous. What is a pretty little thing like you doing all alone here?” You wanted to puke as soon as you heard the man speak. He placed a hand on yours, making your shudder.

“Hey,” you said, trying to use some of Sam’s advice and it was only for one night.

“Want to get out of here?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the man’s straightforwardness, he could have at least bought you a drink.

“Uhm-” you played along.

“Come on baby. You and I are gonna have an amazing night with your pussy wrapped around my cock-” and that was the final strike. You were ready to get out of the bar but not with that man.

“No thanks, I have a boyfriend,” you mumbled before finishing your drink and storming out of the bar, unbeknownst to the fact that Dean was watching the whole interaction, the woman beside him long forgotten.

Seeing you storm out of the bar, peaked his curiosity. He was never good with feelings so when he caught you fantasizing about him, it took him entirely by surprise. He had stormed out of that room because if he had stayed one more second, he would have taken you right then and there. After that incident, he couldn't get you out of his mind and that was making him uncomfortable because it was getting impossible for him to continue walking around with a hard on.

Three harsh knocks on the door of the motel room interrupted your solo drinking session. Annoyed, you went to the door only for Dean to push it open and get in quickly

“Dean? What are-” your words were cut off by him loudly closing the door behind him. “Look I'm sorry, Dean. I know you can't even probably look at me. I am so sorry-”

“Why did you read about me?”

“What?”

“Why did you read about me? Why not read about Sam?” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“I-I….well. It's-I don't exactly have a reason-”

“Y/N.” He cocked his head.

“Fine. I like you. I like Sam too but he is like a brother to me and you're you. I-” you stopped rambling when you heard him scoff lightly.

“Then what's the matter with you?”

“Huh?” Now you were utterly confused.

“One moment you say that you like me and the next you are flirting with a sleazy bastard at the bar,” he huffed.

“You saw that?”

“Of course I did.”

“I thought you were angry at me because I literally read porn about you. You stormed out of that room.” You fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you whispered the words to him.

“I was angry but not at you. I don't like Chuck’s books but I kinda feel proud that you read porn about me,” you looked up at Dean and saw him smirking, “I was angry at myself because all this goddamn time I kept thinking you didn't feel the same.”

“What?”

“You have read about what fake-me can do, wanna see what the real me can?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“W-what?” At this question, Dean leaned in, cupping your cheek as he captured your lips in a kiss. Your hands travelled all the way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue swept across your lips, making you whimper. You both stumbled back to the bed, his lips still on yours. You only separated for a few seconds when you two quickly undressed.

“Dean!” You cried out as you felt yourself coming undone, followed by a guttural groan from Dean as he spilled inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He panted, dropping his head in the crook of your neck as you both came down from the high. Raising his head, Dean looked at you with a fond expression on his face as he pulled out of you, rolling to the other side of the bed.

“Whoever said it was very wrong. Reality is so much better than fiction,” you giggled, looking at the man lying beside you. He turned his body to pull you closer, pecking your lips.

“I can't argue with you on that. Now no more reading about me, okay?” You nodded a stupid grin on your face.

“I got the real deal.”

“So you're not moving to Antarctica, are you? ‘Cause I would love to call you mine and I'm not good at long distance stuff,” Dean smirked.

“No, Winchester. I am not going anywhere because I would love to be called yours. Also remind me to kill Sam in the morning.” You huffed, making Dean burst out in fits of laughter.

Feedback is highly appreciated!

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #anyfandomgoes2020 #SPN Bi-weekly writing challenge #dean x reader smut #dean winchester fic #dean fanfiction #dean fic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n

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twlirwin · 4 years

Text

We’re Not Done Yet

Hey! This is my first time posting any of my writing on here so hopefully you guys don’t think it’s awful dfhkds

This is a Michael smut where he embarrasses the shit out of you by making you wear his headset with all of his friends being able to hear you as he eats you out and fingers you

Warnings: little bit of degradation, swearing, SMUT, tiny bit of edging

Word Count: 1559

Enjoy!

The door creaked slightly as I opened it, before peering into Michael’s office. Which he uses more for gaming than working.

I get a view of his side profile as his focus is all on the screen in front of him. I don’t even think he knows I’m in here.

He looks adorable. With his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Despite him being cute as fuck and me wanting nothing but to tell him how much I love him, I’m still upset. For the past week, he’s been paying more attention to this new game he bought than he has me.

Suddenly I get an idea, a cruel one.

A smirk grows on my face prior to me making my way over to him and slinging my right leg over him so I am resting in his lap.

His arms lift up and wrap around me while keeping the controller in his hands.

I stay that that for a few minutes, allowing him to return to thinking about what’s going to happen next on the computer rather than what’s going to happen next with me.

I lift my face from resting on his shoulder to hovering over his neck. I soon begin to leave wet kisses on his neck, alternating from side to side.

A muffled groan can barely be heard from him, but it’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

My arm slinks down between us to palm him through his grey sweats as I continue giving him hickeys and love bites.

The controller audibly is set down on the desk behind me, before I feel his hands grip my waist. “Y/N, oh my god,”

I peer up at him, seeing on half of his headphones moved so he can hear me. “What?” I ask innocently, pressing down harder.

“You need to stop, I’m gonna get killed-”

“Your dick says otherwise.”

My hand has now reached into the waistband of his pants, feeling the pre-cum at the tip as I start stroking him. His breathing is more labored, and I can hear light whimpers escaping his lips.

“Fuck it.”

He grabs my arm, yanking my hand away before he lifts me off his lap and sets me on the chair he was once on. His eyes are dark as they look down at me. I can feel my arousal building up by the second.

I feel small compared to him, my confident aura being overrun by his dominance.

His headset is in his hands, according to the screen behind him, his microphone is muted.

“Put them on.” the headphones are displayed in front of me as he holds them out.

“What?” my eyes are wide.

“Wear them. Let everyone know what a little slut you are while I make you cum over, and over, and over again.”

“Michael I-” I’m interrupted when he puts them on for me, adjusting the size so they fit me right. I can still hear him clearly since they’re only covering one ear, the other earpiece moved back a little.

He turns around briefly to unmute them before he returns his lust-filled eyes back to me.

“Take your shorts off.”

Now I’m the one having trouble breathing.

My pajama shorts are easy to slide off, landing on the floor below.

Michael gets down on his knees and spreads my legs with his hands.

“Am I the one who made you this wet?” His eyes are directed back at me. All this eye contact is going to be the death of me.

I look away to the side, “Yes.” A sudden wave of redness rises on my cheeks.

His friends were all talking before but now they’ve gone quiet since they heard me.

A low chuckle is emitted from his throat before he begins kissing my inner thighs, coming so close to the place I want him most. I feel the urge to say something, ask him to do something. I just can’t bring myself to, I’m not too suspicious yet but if I say anything more I’m sure it would blow my cover.

“I hope you know I’m not going to do anything until you beg me, darling.” His hands are gliding up and down my thighs, keeping them spread.

“Hey Michael, you there man?” I can tell that’s Luke. For fucks sake. I’m going to be seeing him and the rest of the boys tomorrow.

I cut off the next person to say something, “Please, touch me.” I speak, almost mumbling. There’s practically no use since the mic is right by my mouth. They could hear my breathing for all I know.

“Touch you? How should I touch you?”

I shake my head, letting out a sigh. I can feel his nails digging into my skin as his grip tightens, awaiting my response.

“With your tongue, and fingers.” Everyone he was talking to has gone silent, listening. To me.

A smirk is prominent on his face, “Whatever you say,”

His head ducks down and I can feel him lick a stripe up my slit, my body jerks when he reaches my clit, making his left hand reach up and rest on my lower stomach below the tank top I’m wearing. My breaths are loud and heavy. I try to hold them in the best I can but he’s not making this easy for me.

His index and middle finger abruptly thrust into me while he continues his assault on my nub with his tongue. I let out a low moan, silencing myself by putting my hand over my mouth.

He stops what he’s doing. “Keep your hands at your sides or I will stop right now and won’t let you cum.”

My arms drop, gripping onto the arms of the chair tightly as he quickly goes back to pleasuring me.

“Michael- fuck,” I whisper, “Faster,”

It doesn’t take long for him to thrust his fingers into me at a quicker pace, hitting my g-spot perfectly.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He looks up briefly, then goes back down.

“Mhmm, don’t stop,” I whine, feeling that familiar pit building in my stomach.

“I’m gonna-” I’m interrupted as his hands and mouth leave me. My arousal glistens on his face and hands as he sits back on his ankles, eyeing me. I’m left gasping, “What the fuck?”

I almost forget there are people listening when I ask that, letting my frustration get the best of me.

“Oops,”

“Y/N?” I hear Calum ask from the left earpiece of the headphones. Fucking hell.

I choose to ignore him, not wanting to admit to what’s happening.

“What?” Michael’s fingers have returned to sliding in and out of me at a slow pace, the sounds of how wet I am being heard.

I shake my head, not wanting to make any more noise.

“They already heard you, you’re better off giving them your all instead of refraining yourself.”

His thumb has started to rub my clit, at a faster pace than before. I can feel my orgasm arriving quickly due to how sensitive I already am. “Michael, please.”

A sigh leaves my lips before I start letting myself go. He’s right.

My moaning becomes louder and more frequent as he keeps fucking me with his hands. My head is thrown back over the back of the chair and I can feel my climax approaching.

“Fuck.” He groans, “Look at me,”

I turn to look down at him, our eyes meeting. “Don’t cum until I say you can,”

His tone is demanding, making it even harder for me to contain myself.

Everyone knows what is happening at this point, my breathing and moans being the only thing to fill up the noise.

“Michael I can’t wait,”

“Yes you can, and you will.”

I didn’t think it could, but his speed only increases, edging me closer to my orgasm.

“Cum.”

My eyes squeeze shut as I see stars. My legs are tightening around him and shaking uncontrollably. Choked moans are heard from the microphone before I finally calm down and am trying to catch my breath.

His fingers fill me up again, thrusting at the pace he was just at. I can’t stop myself from making noise because of how overstimulated I’m feeling. “Holy shit,” I whine, digging my ankles into his back when his head dips down to eat me out aggressively.

At this point, there are probably permanent nail marks on the armrests due to how tight I’ve been gripping them.

I moan is heard through the headset. Jesus.

It doesn’t take long for me to feel that sensation bubbling back up inside, “Cum whenever, princess” His hands don’t stop moving for a second, making me reach my second orgasm at my own volition.

When he doesn’t stop, my body starts jolting and his hands have to pin me down as his tongue enters.

“Mike- fuck” I can’t keep quiet, high-pitched whimpers being the only sound to come from me when he has me reach the third orgasm of the night.

I feel relieved when he stops and lets me come down from my high. I am fucking exhausted.

He reaches up and puts the headphones on for a moment, “You guys better have enjoyed that because it won’t be happening again.”

Michael ends the game and picks me up before tossing me on the bed.

“We’re not done yet.”

#michael clifford smut #5 seconds of summer smut #5sos smut #michael clifford #5sos #smut #mgc smut

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em0avacado · 3 years

Text

They say

( Coco Cruz x Reader )

a/n : this is how i cope, don’t mind me, i’m just breaking my own heart.

trigger warnings : none i don’t think? except heart break, sadness. ends happy tho. i think. maybe.

word count : 2.4k

They say that, if you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it was meant to be, if it doesn’t? well you just couldn’t accept that. You’d poured every ounce of yourself into him, you’d told him all your fears, all your pet peeves, all your insecurities, because you trusted him. You’d accepted all his weird quirks, all the strange habits he had that you looked past, youd accepted him for who he was, as you do when you love someone as much as you loved him. You supported him, mentally and physically, from up close and from far away. You encouraged him, reminded him of little things he easily forgot, you told him every day how proud you were of him, how loved and appreciated he was.

He used to do the same for you, used to. But at some point, he began holding back, he stopped doing things he started doing to win you over. You used to have a list of pet names hed call you when he babied you, now it was just ‘baby’ if he was in a good mood, or [Y/N]. You noticed it as soon as it started, you noticed everything. You knew he was stressed so you didn’t want to push it, but you also know that “stressed” was a norm for Coco, so you couldn’t wrap your head around it entirely. He started coming home later, crashing on the couch in hopes of “not disturbing your sleep.” it sounded like an excuse to you, and it hurt. it really fucking hurt you.

At some point, you’d had enough of your boyfriend distancing himself like that, ignoring your feelings, ditching you when you needed him, you couldn’t live that way, you wouldn’t. So, when he came home, you’d waited up for him, sitting at the small kitchen table you both used to enjoy your breakfast on every Sunday, now it stood empty, with nothing but a stack of newspapers from the passing weeks piled on it. With a bit of liquid courage crashing against the rocks of ice as you swirled the brown liquid around in the cup, your eyes felt red with fire, and your cheeks were stained with few dried tears that rolled down your face as your mind came up with the worst possible results you could imagine, all to which, came true. With a jingle of his keys in the lock, you straightened your posture, looking at him.

“What’re you doing up?” he asked her, that same vacant look on his face.

“I wanted to talk”

“it can wait till morning.”

“it really can’t.” with that, she was met with utter annoyance, and an obnoxious scoff that made her blood boil.

“go on then.”

“you’ve distanced yourself, so hard. I barely see you. We don’t sleep in the same bed, I can’t remember the last time you touched me, hell, even looked at me like you used to. What’d I do?” that was your go to, blaming yourself. It’s how you dealt with the unexplained.

“Get off my ass, [Y/N].” He dismissed you, you watched as he pulled off his kutte, and settled into the couch. You kept your eyes on him, murder on your mind. God he irritated you, you wanted to take his neck between your hands and wring it. Maybe that’d breathe some sense into him, if you deprived him of oxygen a little. But you didn’t need another felony charge, you inhaled deeply, balling your fists, the sting of your nails digging into the palm of your hand bringing you back from picturing all the ways you’d brutally murder him, out of love, of course.

If you loved someone... you’d refrain from strangling them, you turned from the spot you stood, and headed into the bedroom. You did the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you, but they worked only slightly. You grabbed a duffel bag, and started shoving clothing into it, as much as you could, you pushed all the belongings you’d need the next few days, and zipped it up. Pulling on a hoodie, you tossed the bag over your shoulder, and headed out. You walked passed him without a word, when you went to grab your car keys, you did the only petty thing you’d let yourself, trying to be the better person, you hid every single key to everything you had, knowing how easily he lost keys, you’d help him, in your own favour, however.

You left, and you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. The mere thought of Coco made you tear up, and it didn’t help that every tiny thing made you think about the lost love that still caused your chest to feel like it was about to concave. This wasn’t natural, you hadn’t felt like this, you were the queen of bottling up emotions, and ignoring them so you didn’t feel the pain of anything. But as you lived and breathed, everything reminded you of him.

You were in the middle of a girls lunch date, it’d been weeks since your seen your girlfriends since you’ve been trying to isolate yourself trying to get over this man, in the midst of drinking mimosas on the balcony of one of those entirely too fancy restaurants, you were laughing at highschool memories of your best friend who would start fights in the halls because she was bored, it was then, when a roar of motorcycles sped past where you were sitting, and it threw you into a whirl wind of emotions.

“make sure you hold on tight, mamas. Wouldnt want you to fall off.” the smirk heard in Coco’s voice sent a chill down your spine, being too intimidated by any sort of physical contact, usually, you usually ease yourself into it, but with Coco? It was brash and sudden, he started the bike, and gave you maybe a millisecond to grab a hold on him.

A little squeal forced its way out of your mouth as you quickly grabbed onto him, gripping onto your own hands, clinging to him. You buried your face in his shoulder. You felt him chuckle, and wanted to knock him out right then and there, but perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. It took you a moment, but once you opened your eyes, and watched as buildings, cars, people, hills and piles of dirt passed you by, trees whipping by. You felt yourself calm, you felt at peace. The wind flipped through your locks of hair, his scent filling your senses.

“This isn’t that bad.” you heard yourself admit in a soft mumble, you shut your eyes and felt the wind attack your face, balancing your inner battles with yourself. You felt peace in Coco, he tamed your chaos, and you his. God, what you’d give to feel like this all the time, but you only felt it with him.

You felt your throat burn, your bottom lip lodged itself between your teeth, and you did your best to fight the rage that tinged your eyes with tears. Your friends saw this, noticing immediately, the emotion that washed over your face, paling your features and dimming a smile that brought them laughter that lasted for days. You’d always been the group clown, with the loudest laugh, the brightest smiles, you were the one they’d all turn to when they couldn’t hold themselves up. You were a force to be reckoned with, you fought their battles when they couldn’t even hold themselves up. You never failed to show up with booze and ice cream to heal broken hearts. You brought things that made you think of friends, you remembered the finest details and came through every time. You listened to the quietest ones, heard every story, laughed at the lamest jokes. Seeing you with tears streaming involuntarily down your face as you tried to hide it, wiping them as fast as they came, it broke their collective hearts. They looked at one another, an unspoken question “how do you skip to the part of the storm that sprouts the flowers when the rain stops?”

Your relationship with sleep was toxic, it came and went as it pleased, your eyes were sunken, it was three A.M. and you felt your thoughts running through your mind a million miles a minute. Your head in your hands as another memory floated to the surface.

Panic overwhelmed you, hearing something, or someone, rustling around the kitchen, you grabbed the gun you kept tucked under your mattress. You cocked it, and took the safety off, holding it out in front of you in a defensive position. You opened your creaking door, the noise working at your nerves as you creeped into the kitchen where the only thing that illuminated the dark room was the bulb from the old white fridge. You watched silently as the head ducked from inside the fridge, you found it peculiar, but all you saw was a figure in your home you didn’t know. Getting closer, you held the barrel of the gun to the head of the man that stood in your kitchen.

“Hands up, Foo. Before I blow your brains all over my backsplash.” You threatened, your voice tense, and you were met with laughter that was all too familiar. Furrowing your brows, you were still panicked, not thinking straight. You shifted the gun so the bullet that was about to fly, only ripped through his hair. The shot rang loud, causing Coco, who you didn’t know was Coco, to crash to the ground.

“Crazy bitch!” he shouted, you flicked on the light, still having the gun pointed at him. Your eyes widened quickly, the man on your floor was Coco, and now there was a bullet lodged into your ceiling. You could kiss your security deposit goodbye, fuck, and you just shot at Coco. You put the safety back on, and set it on your counter before going to help him. A few minutes passed before both of you sat in fits of laughter, him mocking your voice, your words.

Coco told you so many times that the night you nearly shot him in the head, was the night he fell for you entirely. Sure, he’d known you were the one way before that. That night, though, he knew he was in love with you. That night he swore he’d break past your barriers, he’d demolish how you saw yourself, he taught you to love you, he made you promises to show you love like no other, and to show you that you didn’t have to be afraid of either physical and emotional aspects of love. He did do exactly that, but then ripped it away from her. Leaving her heart with him, and her chest feeling heavy with nothing. Once again tears were brought to your eyes, you were thankful for his love, but without it? you wished you’d never had experienced it in the first place. Maybe you wouldn’t be hurting now.

You were brought out of your train of thought by the knocking on your door, furrowing your brows, you got up from your spot on the counter, where you were thinking of better times, you looked through the peephole and it felt like someone took a vacuum to your weak lungs. Coco. Struggling to breathe proper, you just intended on ignoring him, it was the first time in months youd seen him and you didn’t know if you could handle it. Your heart screamed at you to let him in, he looked beat up, tired, and one of his eyes was bandaged up, he looked broken. you wanted to embrace him, forget the distance, but your mind scolded you, reminding you of the progress youd made, bouncing back from the pain oh so slowly. This could set it all back. So you decided, you wouldn’t open the door. He’s a big boy. You silently turn on your heel, away from the door.

“I’m sorry.” you heard him rasp, and you froze in your spot, a deer caught in headlights. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. “I know you’re there, I know you’re awake and I know you know it’s me. You have your kitchen light on, so I saw you stand on your toes to look through the peephole because you’re too short.” you cursed his observant ways, how well he knew you, like he had quirk notes tattooed on the back of his hand and read them like a bible. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice when you left, that I was too deep in my own world to see how me fading away for my own selfish needs was hurting you. I’m sorry I made it seem like I didn’t care, that it hurt you, I’m sorry that I made promises and broke them. I started thinking about things I never knew I wanted until you marched your stubborn self in my life and gave me a taste of a love that changed me. It scared the fuck out of me.”

That familiar burn of emotion lit up your head, and singed your chest. You let his words sink in, you couldn’t speak, not yet. Squeezing shut your eyes, you turned back to the door, setting your hand on the knob. You felt the door shift, like he’d gotten up from leaning his head against the poorly tinted wood. He got it, you could feel him prepare to walk away. If you love something, let it go. But Coco came back. He came back. You unlocked it, and turned the knob. Looking at him through sore eyes. “Running when you’re scared isn’t an option for me.” you said, defeat obvious in your voice. He stopped, turned to you and closed in quick. You pushed his hands away. “You can’t - You can’t just show me, tell me, and hold it to me that i shouldn’t shut you out, and i should trust you, and i should turn to you before anyone and anything else only to turn around and do that to me. You can’t do that and come running back.” you practically yelled at him, your voice shaking and raw.

“I know, I know I’m sorry.” he said, his hands dropping to his sides when you reached forward and yanked him in with all your might. The gesture was aggressive, sure. But pure.

“i’m sorry too.” you muttered, embracing him tightly.

—

tag list :

@queenbeered

@mayans-sauce

#coco x reader #coco cruz #mayans fanfic #mayans mc #fanfic #richard cabral

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Note

billy hears about how steve can make guys cum untouched just with his fingers/dick. he gets keyed up, post s2 or s3 (whichever floats your boat) and goes to steve begging for him to finger billy open then make him cum untouched.

wHO TOLD YOU!!?

who exposed me??

coming untouched is my favorite thing hhhhh

I revealed this information to only a small number of people I’m coming for all of you 🔪

anyway... I hope you enjoy this because i sure did

****

Billy approach’s Steve at his locker with both the bravado of a man on a mission and the nervousness of a twelve year old asking his crush to dance.

Billy had learned a very interesting rumor about his boyfriend from the pitcher for the baseball team. After several attempts of the guy trying to get into Steve’s pants, Billy was unleashed to put the kid into his proper place. Billy refrained from anything too physical, knowing if he left any marks on Saunders he would definitely be receiving the cold shoulder from Steve. And it’s not like he could blame the guy. If he had been on the receiving end of one of Steve’s magical blow jobs and had that taken away, he might have done the same thing.

Billy just shoves him around a bit. Makes a few veiled threats that he doesn’t need to know have zero merit. Steve has truly made him soft. But still, Billy’s reputation preceded him. Dixon Saunders easily submitted.

But before Billy could walk away he had to open his big mouth.

“Word of advice. Let Harrington in the backdoor. You’ll be fuckin’ seein’ stars I tell you. Doesn’t even have to touch.”

Billy allows himself to walk away. Manages to fight the urge to probe him with all his questions. But those words they fucking bore a hole into his brain and he’s gotta know. He’s gotta experience that first hand for himself.

“You free after school? I wanna test out a rumor.” He says, leant up against the locker in an attempt to seduce, while also masking the scared little kid inside him as he beats around the bush.

Steve and him have not progressed past hand jobs and blowjobs. Billy’s only ever had actual, back breaking, sex once. And he wasn’t on the receiving end. So this was uncharted territory for him. But his dick twitched every time those words echoed in his skull.

“Doesn’t even have to touch.”

“And what rumor would that be?” Steve asks as he shoves the remainder of his books into his locker.

And Billy can’t bring himself to ask for it. Not here where people can see Steve laugh in his face. No, he’d rather lose his dignity in private.

And it’s not that Billy thinks Steve will laugh at him for wanting it, but laugh at him for the clear desperation he has for it.

“I’ll tell you when we get to your place. Wouldn’t want it to spread around school.”

Steve just laughs it off and nudges Billy’s shoulder, but Billy’s already looking him up and down with a bit lip and hungry eyes. Because Steve is looking like an entire meal right now. Wrinkles next to his eyes and shiny white teeth exposed with his smile. Long fingers brushing through his hair.

He wants.

He needs.

He doesn’t know how he intends to make it through the last hour of the school day without popping a boner in history class. Having to come up with a reason why the assasination of Franz Ferdinand has him so aroused.

When they’ve finally made it to Steve’s house Steve is begging Billy to tell him the rumor, and billy is begging for something else entirely. Billy pushes Steve down onto the couch and gets into Steve’s lap. Facing towards him with a knee on either side of Steve’s legs. Steve wraps his arms around Billy’s back as Billy leans down to kiss him. Steve’s neck craning upwards to meet Billy’s lips.

“A little birdie told me you can make a boy come untouched. That true?”

And Billy was correct to assume Steve would laugh. But it isn’t a mocking laugh. More delighted and intrigued.

“Well if you want me to do that we’re gonna have to get you in another position.”

And suddenly Billy is flying off his lap and Steve is dragging Billy up the stairs and into his room. Bending Billy over against the bed, propped up by his hands until Steve knocks him down to his elbows. Billy let’s out a quiet chuckle at this amount of aggression and heat he’s not used to seeing out of Steve.

Steve reaches for his bedside table and pulls out a bottle of lube from one of the drawers, sparing no time at all before yanking Billy’s pants downs to his knees and squirting a bit of lube onto two fingers.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” He asks, and Billy is already spreading his legs. Bracing himself. Yeah. He’s fucking ready.

“If you don’t start right fucking now I’m going to scream.”

Steve laughs before sliding in one slicked finger. Billy’s fingered himself before, but this right here was an entirely different ball game. When he did it to himself he could never get the angle quite right. And the added fear that his father could walk in on him with fingers up his ass, he’d rather not entertain that.

The one finger felt good. Better than he could achieve himself. But he definitely wasn’t seeing stars.

By the time Steve added in a second finger he started to feel it. Not overwhelming pleasure, but the desperate need to touch himself. He was already leaking pre onto the bed sheets, gripping the cloth tightly and clenching his teeth to fight the urge to stroke his dick. His hard, red, throbbing dick.

Okay maybe he wasn’t entirely ready for that.

Steve’s fingers are now scissoring inside him spreading him apart slowly and teasingly. He’s slow and meticulous and he’s doing all the right things. Billy feels the need so bite down on something. His nails now digging into his palms, sure to leave marks. He’s sputtering nonsensical pleas to speed up. More more more.

Then there’s a third finger and Billy lets out and embarrassing moan.

He needs Steve inside of him. Now.

And apparently Steve agrees as he slowly removes his fingers from Billy’s hole, Billy letting out a deep breath as the pressure is released.

Suddenly Steve is flipping Billy onto his back, ripping his own shirt off, pulling Billy’s jeans the rest of the way down and over his ankles. Pulling Billy’s legs up to where they are now resting on his shoulders. Billy follows Steve’s lead and reveals his own bare chest. Unbuttoning the only two buttons that were ever fastened. His hands are too close to his dick for Steve’s liking. Billy’s so close to wrapping his hand around himself and holding on for dear life.

Steve grabs Billy by the wrists and pins them down to the bed just above Billy’s head.

“Hands off the merchandise. We’re testing the rumor aren’t we?”

And Billy just whimpers underneath the weight of Steve on top of him. He needs Steve inside of him. He wants so badly to come undone at just the feeling of Steve inside him. Tearing him apart. Destroying him until he’s a blubbering mess.

Steve releases one hand from Billy’s wrist hesitantly. Slowly to ensure Billy remains complaint and keeps the hand where it lies. Then he’s using the free hand to position himself, and it all feels like slow motion. Like time stops completely before Steve is complete filling Billy up. Then he’s pumping in and out at an agonizingly slow pace and Billy just wants to scream.

Steve is leaning over him, hands back on Billy’s wrists, kissing, sucking, biting on Billy’s neck and the show is almost over for him. Tears spilling out of his eyes. He’s desperately fighting against Steve’s grip on him.

“Come for me baby.” He whispers in his ear with a breathy moan. “I’m close too.”

It’s the combination of the hot breath against his ear and one final thrust that he feels all the way to his stomach that does it all for him. Almost instantaneously he’s shooting off onto Steve’s chest. He’s not seeing stars. He’s seeing the whole damn galaxy.

And he could easily get hard again at just the sight of Steve on top as he comes inside of him. Mouth agape as he releases a heavy and unsuppressed moan. Hair filling into his face, beads of sweat on his forehead. He looks fucking ethereal. Of course a boy who looked like that would live up to the rumor. But there was never really any doubt in Billy that Steve would deliver. And boy did he ever.

And then Steve’s aggressive performance from just a few minutes ago is flipped on it’s head. Slowly removing himself from inside, Billy feeling as Steve’s come slowly drips from his hole. Steve coming up to his face to gently push a hair out of his face before peppering gentle kisses to the space below his eyes where shedded tears came to rest.

“I would ask you if the rumors are true, but I think that’s kinda obvious don’t you think?” Steve says with a little smirk.

Billy scoffs before gently moving a now freed hand up to grab Steve by the chin. Angling his face to his eyes are locked straight on his own. “Shut up you cocky little bastard.” He says before pulling him down to meet his lips, wrapping his legs around him and locking his ankles together and pulling Steve down until Steve’s chest completely pressed up against his own.

“I’m still stronger than you. Don’t you ever forget it.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #mandi writes tresh #fanfic #headcanons #anon #lemons #🚨I’ve never written an*l before pls be nice I am but an innocent soul 🚨

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