#then once all the tangles are gone just brushing from the top of his scalp down the full length of his hair in long and gentle strokes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eddie-van-munson · 2 years

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hi <3

would you write something for eddie with a s/o that dramatically changes their hair? like, one day they have very long hair, like covering their waist, and the other day they're just... bald, like, 0 hair

you can choose the reason for the sudden change, but i was imagining a anxious reader trying to get distracted well... it backfiring

Warnings: Reader has an Anxiety Attack (sensory overload), Cursing, Gender-Neutral Pronouns.

A/N: Hello! I hope this is what you wanted! I'm still on the lookout for Vampire!Eddie requests, so if you have one, send it in!! Thanks for reading!!

***********

"Babe? You in there? It's me." Eddie knocked on your bedroom door as he slipped his keys back into his pocket. You'd given him a spare to the house a long time ago, and he'd gotten into the habit of letting himself in. "Are you sick? I got your make-up work..."

No response.

Eddie frowned, "I'm coming in."

"No!"

Finally, your croaky little voice sounded through the door. He stopped, concern creasing his forehead. "Y/N?"

"Don't come in."

Eddie sat down his bag, arms crossing over his chest, "Why not?"

There was another long silence. He could tell you were crying when you spoke again, your voice practically a whimper, "I don't want you to see me."

Worry over took his desire to fulfill your wish, and he opened the door to find you sitting in bed with your knees pulled to your chest. You were in an old sweatshirt he'd given you, the hood pulled up over your head and cinched around your face.

Eddie sat beside you on the bed, cooing softly when you gave a pitiful sob. He brushed a tear from your lashes with his thumb, tutting. "Hey...Why all these tears, huh? What's going on, baby? You're scaring me."

"I-I'm sorry." You choked, scrubbing tears from your face with the wrists of the hoodie. "Just...I messed up, Eds. I messed it all up."

His dark brows furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

"My hair." You rasped.

His expression quirked, "Your hair?"

Your hair. You had the longest hair Eddie had ever seen. When it was straight, it easily reached your waist. He'd always joked that you secretly moonlighted as a mermaid. He'd even call you "Rapunzel" as a pet name every once in a while.

It was like a security blanket to you. You often had your fingers tangled in it to fidget. Sometimes you'd tug on it when you were upset, though it was always met with a little unhappy sound from Eddie, who'd quickly guide your hands away and kiss them.

He did this now, too, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles and dragging his thumb over them soothingly. "Can I see?"

You sniffled, unsure, but his big brown eyes were staring up at you so sweetly. You nodded, tears welling again.

"Oh baby, come're." He pulled you in close, holding you tight in his arms as he kissed you, comfortingly. He wiped your tears, pecking your nose when he pulled back, "I've got you, ok? Everything's gonna be alright."

Slowly, as if he was worried he'd startle you, he pulled the hood loose and pushed it back off of your head.

Your hair was gone. Completely gone. It'd been buzzed short, down to the scalp, leaving only the sweet, fuzzy remains of your long mermaid hair.

You didn't know what reaction you had expected from Eddie, but it definitely wasn't this. His eyes went big as he stared at you, a wide grin slowly splitting his face. "Oh my god...Holy shit! Look at you!"

You gave a confused frown, "What?"

He was smiling. Why was he smiling?

"You look so fuckin' metal, babe!" He grabbed your hands, squeezing them with excitement. "Oh my god! I love it! Can I feel your little head?"

You nodded, giggling through a sniffle as he stroked the top of your head, sweetly. He gave a pretty grin, cradling your face.

"God, it's so rock-n-roll, babe! What made you wanna cut it?"

His brows raised in concern when your face fell, and you swallowed thickly, "I...um..." you paused, embarrassed tears burning your nose. "I had a anxiety attack."

His eyes softened, "Oh, sweetheart..."

You could only sniffle in response, scratching your neck. Eddie crawled up onto your bed with you, letting you lay against his chest as he held you snug.

"You want to tell me about it?" There was a long pause. Your muscles relaxed as he rubbed your back beneath the sweatshirt. "You don't have to."

You shook your head, snuggling against him. "I just...I don't know. I got home from school and the world just felt...too loud? I could feel my clothes rubbing my skin and my hair on my neck. I felt like I couldn't get it off of me. So...I cut it all off with craft scissors." A shaky breath fell from your lips, "I found my dad's shaver later on, and I buzzed it."

He kissed your forehead, rubbing the furrow from your brows with the pad of his thumb, "I'm so sorry...God, sweetheart. You had to feel all of that on your own. Didn't have anyone there to take care of you, did you baby?"

You whimpered a no as he rubbed your head, lovingly.

"Why didn't you call me?" His presence was soothing and quiet and warm. He calmed the overwhelmed parts of your brain so easily, and you felt like you couldn't curl in close enough.

You thought the question over, "I thought you'd think I was crazy. I know you wouldn't, but my brain was telling me that. And then when I cut my hair..." You trailed off. " I thought you'd be so disappointed, Eddie."

"Disappointed?" His tone was so gentle.

"I can't be your Rapunzel, anymore. You can't play with my hair." You whimpered, blinking back pitiful tears.

Eddie exhaled sadly, "Oh sweetheart. It's just hair..." You didn't seem convinced. He rubbed your fuzzy little head again, "I'm so proud of you, hm? You got all those feelings out of your head in a way that didn't hurt you." He kissed your fingertips, squeezing your thigh. "You did good...And you got a wicked ass haircut out of it too!"

You sniffled as he pecked you cheeks and lips, "You really like it?"

"Oh babe..." He gave you a squeeze, punctuating it with a kiss. "Forget Rapunzel. I fuckin' I love it."

***********

@eddielives1986 @steeldaisies @gifted_axolotl

#eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie imagine #eddie imagines #eddie x reader #eddie x you #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munsen x reader #eddie munsen imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munsen

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spynorth · 1 year

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@northliights:

A slender shaft of moonlight finds its way between the curtains to pool upon the bed, spilling over the pair of figures curled beneath a tangle of blankets - one sleeping fitfully, the other remaining wakeful, vigilant as the darkest hours of the night creep in. She allows the fingers of one hand to trail through the soft hair that spills over her slumbering lover's temple, smoothing back the wayward strands and comforting him against the restless dreams that plague him, her voice a soft, nonsensical whisper against the top of his head meant to guide him back from whatever dark place his mind has taken him this night. It's a ritual she's performed more times than she can recall, this act of becoming something of a human lighthouse guiding him home no matter how desperately the storms rage within him, and as his breathing evens out once more and his lashes flutter open at long last, Aurora gives him the softest of smiles.

"There you are."

Funny, isn't it - the way something as intangible as fear can worm its way into the recesses of a man's heart, can hide in the shadows biding its time until he finally feels brave enough to unlock the door, certain it can no longer be found. He feels it sometimes, hovering just beyond the edge of his vision... a dark mass huddled beside the bed when the lights go out that later stalks behind him on the London streets. One morning its a woman, gray haired with a heavy bag that keeps bumping into the curve of his spine until the breath has all but left his lungs and by the time she peels off at a crossing for a different path, denim clad thighs shake with the effort to keep him standing. Later, it's a brunette, tongue flicking out over his half melted ice cream and lips curving in a smirk as green eyes meet blue, like the entire world knows some secret that Lucas isn't privy to. He stumbles his way into The Grid afterwards, weight leant against a wall in some far reaching corridor as he tries to control his breathing, forehead damp with sweat and smile so tremulous that it's a wonder his colleagues brush off his half mumbled excuses and the shrug of his shoulders.

They don't believe it for a minute. But Lucas is glad they pretend to.

He melts inside their flat like a man who's just run a marathon, armor falling to the hardwood floor as fast as his mind can undo the leather buckles that hold it in place and arms wrapping around the woman who he has come to love like no other - his sanctuary, his home. Curled up beside her, cool skin against the warmth of her curves and nose buried in the thick of her hair, he doesn't feel that faint press at the door, doesn't hear the huff of breath and the scratching of claws that test for a gap - doesn't hear it when it slides beneath an unsteady frame. When it comes, it brings white light and screaming .. a voice so hoarse that the agent can't even be sure its his and Lucas thrashes in his sleep, fighting against the tendrils that snake their way into his nose and mouth, crawling along the back of his throat until the man he was is gone. Soon there's nothing left but muffled whimpers and flames that lick red stripes, leaving behind mottled skin and the feel of his pulse pounding against his ribcage.

I want to die, I want to die, I want to die ... John.

Aurora's murmurs bathe his burning body in cool water, fingers scratching at his scalp as she calls his name, leading him home like the stray soul that he is. She doesn't balk at the fingers that suddenly grip at her wrist, knuckles white with the effort of an anchoring grip and heart thudding into the palm that rests against his chest. Blue meets blue as he weighs her expression, weighs the patience and acceptance that no man broken the way he is deserves, and Lucas shifts slightly, free arm raising to curl around slender shoulders until he's able to pull her towards him.

"Here I am." It's an answer said with a huff of breath, an easy blend of both exhaustion and relief at not drowning as he tries to ignore the way that the sheets beneath him cling to sweat soaked skin like far too tight clothing. He holds her, arms wrapped around Aurora's slim frame like the world is an ocean and she is his raft, struggling to match his breathing to her own. The words are a rush of warm air against the shell of her ear, carried by a quiet laugh more akin to a quaver and Lucas squeezes her all the tighter. "Just thought I'd make the night a bit more exciting. We've been sleeping too much lately."

#northliights #*v. you can only go through hell a handful of times before you bring pieces home.#* arc 2: the past stays on you like powdered sugar stays on your fingers. some people can get rid of it but it's still there.#okay tumblr deleted every single tag i've ever had (including your url wtf)#and i got interrupted by the phone three times.#but !!!#i think i pulled this off.#i think i'm happy with it.#I wrote it to the music from the community tribute for mass effect le #but hey if it works it works right #anyways consider this a one shot unless you have some idea of where it can go <33 #that last bit is his famous dry humor by the way. in case you can't tell.

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unohanadaydreams · 3 years

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This was originally an ask I answered quite a while ago that I’ve gone back and edited. It went from 1k to 1.6k words so it’s been significantly reworked, so much so that if you’ve read it before, it’s enough of a new piece that you’ll hopefully enjoy reading it again! I’ve edited the original ask to reflect all changes, but believe me--it’s been through a transformation.

But, yeah, I’ve gotten quite a few asks for hurt/comfort Ukitake so this is an offering for all of you!! He only suffers a lil bit. <3

so close and yet so far from death [1.6k]

Jushiro Ukitake x Reader:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

“Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.

#jushiro ukitake #jushiro ukitake x reader #bleach x reader #bleach imagines #bleach fanfic #i may go back and do this for a few other of my longer pieces #but this one i've had in mind for a while because i SUPER rushed the original

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amoristt · 3 years

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Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him.

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this.

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red.

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you.

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.”

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it.

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?”

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.”

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy.

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip.

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy. As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be.

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke.

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind.

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find.

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.”

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse.

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable.

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look.

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began.

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan.

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

You lowered your head.

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot.

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled.

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?”

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod.

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again.

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly.

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust.

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that?

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person?

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once.

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew.

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under.

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed. How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you.

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions.

No wonder he was so angry.

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call.

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.”

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing.

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.”

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.”

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again.

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy. He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right?

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger.

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying.

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos.

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh.

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up.

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?”

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot.

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.”

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.”

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm.

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #life is strange #grazing the fire #scenario #fanfic #fluff

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

Choso Kamo x Reader

Warnings: sfw. mention of nudity but it's really nothing graphic. very brief nsfw mention. fluff. gn!reader

Notes: some fluff with Choso. reader decides to have a spa day and makes Choso join them

Word Count: 1.8k

It feels like it's been forever since you've gotten a day to relax like this.

You've designated today as a self care day. You could really use one. It's been a while since you properly sat back and relaxed. You've decided to go all out, breaking out new skincare and slightly pricier soaps you were saving for a rainy day. Things you always said you’d use, but never did because the situation never felt right. You figure you'll do your hair, too. Might as well. You’ve got time.

You like your showers warm. It always worries Choso that you’ll burn yourself. You sit with your hand in the water, gauging the temperature. A thin layer of bubbles covers the surface. Steam coils off the water. It's hot enough.

Choso can't help but watch with almost a childlike wonder. Wherever you go, he tends to follow. In his defense, he's curious. All the soaps and candles smell good. He's never really seen you do anything like this.

His gaze drifts to the floor when you start undressing. He's not sure why, only that he knows it's wrong to stare. He's seen you like this plenty of times before, but it always makes him blush. Doesn't matter if it's his first time, or his hundredth. You remind him that it's okay to look, that he can see you like this. Only he gets to see you like this. He's certain of that.

You try to distract from the anxiety of being the only naked one in the room.

"Are you coming in or not?" You ask.

"You want me to..." His face turns bright red.

"Of course," you motion for him to join you.

You coax his shirt over his head. He gets the hint, undressing the rest of the way.

He watches with baited breath as you slip into the water, steam drifting off your skin. You sigh and lean back, resting your head on the edge of the tub. The suds cling to your skin.

He settles into the water in front of you, his knees pulled to his chest. You part your legs enough to give him room to sit between them. He leans against your chest, trying to be mindful of his weight. He really isn't that heavy, but he's a bit wary of hurting you. You card a wet hand through his hair, drawing it out of his eyes. The warm water and epsom salts feel nice across his sore muscles. It's a bit too hot for him, leaving his skin pink, but you don't seem to be bothered by it so he says nothing. You gather a bit of suds in your hands, leaving a dot of them on his nose, laughing at his confused look.

Choso closes his eyes and sighs, leaning into your touch. You press a kiss to the top of his head. His cheeks turn bright red. Your arms snake around his body, holding him to your chest. He leans his head back, his eyes meeting yours. His hair tickles your neck.

“I feel like I could fall asleep.” He says.

You rest your chin on top of his head. “Good.”

He's never felt love quite like this. Of course he's felt love before; with his brothers, for his friends. But his love for you is vastly different. It's strange. He wants to hold you close and never let you go. He’s head-over-heels for you. The way you look at him with such adoration makes his chest swell with affection. He can't stop the smile that spreads across his face.

The face mask is a violent shade of green against your skin. You warm the paste up in your hands for a moment, though you can't tell if it helps or not. It smells strongly of cucumbers. You don't want to get up to look in the mirror, so you haphazardly apply it to your nose and the skin under your eyes.

“Do you want some?” You ask. He looks uncertain, but he nods anway.

"It's cold," he says.

"It's good for your skin." You say.

You give him a pleading look. You've forced him to sit while you paint his nails, or braid his hair. He likes it. As long as you're giving him attention, he'll tolerate a lot.

His response is only a wary look. He relaxes once you finish, closing his eyes, leaning back into your chest. Your body is warm. He runs a bit cold, naturally. He hardly notices it, but you certainly do. The hot water has turned his skin a nice shade of red. Under the water, his hand rests on your thigh, gripping it softly. He likes the way your thighs rest around his waist. They're warm, and softer than his. He's always admired how soft you are. He loves the way your body curves and dips. He loves the way his clothes look on you, or yours on him. He thinks you're strong, sturdy and beautiful in a way he never knew before he met you.

"Lean your head back so I'm not waterboarding you," you say, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He hums as you pour a bit of water over his head, your fingers working through his hair. Your nails are getting long. They feel nice against his scalp.

He practically begs you to play with his hair. He says it helps him sleep. You believe it. He's usually knocked out within minutes of you starting. Many of your nights together are spent with him sitting between your legs, or his head in your lap. It doesn't matter how warm it is outside, he has to sleep either in your arms, or with you in his.

The shampoo you use smells like coconuts, he notes. It smells nice. He practically purrs in delight as you start working the suds into his hair. His breath hitches as you brush a particularly sensitive spot at his temple. You make sure to work that area specifically.

You work out any tangles in his hair with conditioner and your fingers. He likes this part the best. You spend extra time brushing your fingers through his hair. He groans when you work down to his neck, kneading the muscles of his shoulders in your hands. At this point you aren't even scrubbing his head anymore.

He's almost disappointed when you stop.

"Let me do yours." He says.

Choso moves so you can lean against his chest. You worry about putting all of your weight on him. He insists he can take it. He can. But your initial hesitation is there. His chin rests on top of your head. His strong arms snake around you, holding you close. You feel so safe in his arms. You could fall asleep there.

And you just might.

His fingers run through your hair as he pours water over your head, shielding your eyes. He knows it can be a bit unpleasant. Once your hair is wet, he squeezes a sizable glob of shampoo onto his hands. Your hair is soft, he notes. He wonders if you like your hair being played with as much as he does. You hum softly as he starts to work it into your hair.

Slowly his hands work down, kneading the muscles of your neck and shoulders. Goosebumps raise along your flesh. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. His hands are warm. You find yourself dozing off in his arms. You feel so safe cradled against his chest.

When all the suds are rinsed out, he helps you work out any knots with his fingers. He likes the texture of the conditioner far less. It's cold and slimy, he says. You're not sure if that's how you'd describe it. He'd use 5-in-1 soap if you'd let him; which might be Yuji's fault.

He leans down to give you a kiss. It's just a quick peck, but the warmth of his lips lingers on yours for long after. You pull him back to deepen it, your tongue pressing past his lips, exploring his mouth. A line of saliva connects your lips when you pull away. You giggle at the way his face turns red.

Under the water, his fingers lace with yours. You lift his hand up, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. His heartbeat stops for a moment, before picking up in pace.

The two of you stay like that until long after the water has gone cold. Choso’s breathing has evened out, he hasn't moved in quite a while. You’re too warm and content in his arms to move. You’re not sure how long it’s been since you’ve dozed off. But the water is cold, and your fingers and toes are wrinkly from being underwater for so long.

“Did you fall asleep?” You ask, giggling when he shakes his head.

He still tries to hold onto you even as you get out of the water. You’ll worry about cleaning up in the morning.

You steal one of his shirts to wear. It's too big for the both of you, and has long since been designated a sleep shirt. His clothes are always huge on him, he likes the way they swallow him (and you) up. He sits with you between his knees, drying your hair off with a towel. You hate going to bed with wet hair.

Idly you flip through channels, looking for something to watch. Not much looks good. You have netflix—you have Yuji’s password—but nothing there looks good either. Eventually you settle on a late-night game show. You’re not particularly interested in it, but it's pretty nostalgic. It used to wake you up when you were a kid.

“Let me paint your nails,” you say. “Please?”

He nods. Your pleading look will be the death of him. Choso can't deny you anything.

He’s never been so hopelessly in love.

You sit cross-legged in front of him, pulling one of his hands into your lap. The nail polish you choose for him is clear. The other ones are in the bathroom, and you don't feel like getting up. You’ve tried all sorts of colors on him. His favorites are black and dark purple. He thinks they match his outfits rather well.

When you’re done, you grab ahold of both his hands, carefully examining his nails. They look fine. Really, you just want to hold his hands. You deem them good enough. He holds his hands as still as possible so as to not smear the nail polish.

When you’re finally ready to settle down for the night, he pulls you into his arms. You tug the covers up to your chin, making sure to wrap them around him too.

“Y/N?” He says.

“Yes?”

“I love you.” He says.

“I know.” You say. “I love you too.”

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

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blahkugo · 4 years

Text

Sleepless

Shouta Aizawa X Reader (BNHA)

Warnings: 18+, bondage, bratty rc, over-stimulation, umm it’s just pure filth sandwiched between some fluff

Word Count: 3.9k

A good night’s rest? You’ve never heard of her!

“At least take off your heels before you throw yourself into bed,” your boyfriend’s voice rings out, still deeply agitated from a long night of feigned smiles and interest. You know that tone well— the exasperated sigh typically saved for his students at U.A— but the room is spinning too fast for you to take heed of his reprimand.

“M’too tired,” you slur your words, face down against your mattress.

The two of you had been at a pro-hero gala, or as Shouta called it, a “gaudy show of riches for politicians and government dickheads.” It had taken almost all of your energy, and a lot of homemade dishes, to persuade him to accept the invitation; however, he had followed through. He behaved properly all night, smiled and socialized with every partygoer that approached you, and even ensured the vicious insults on the tip of his tongue were whispered into your ears only after each person had turned away. You deemed the night a success, despite waving off Shouta’s warnings about that fourth glass of champagne you downed.

“You’re going to get our covers dirty, idiot.” You can’t help but feel your heart flutter at that word— our. Be it the hundredth or thousandth time, you don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him refer to the two of you as one. It had taken years for him to warm up to you, after all. While he considers it endearing now, you’re positive Shouta had initially found your constant laughter and positive nature unbearable, thinking of you as simply another nuisance to avoid; never had he met someone who reduced his usual threatening tone to something playful or entertaining. And little did either of you know, he would slowly come to adore the way his scolding amused you.

No amount of persuasion from his students or other heroes can convince you Shouta is actually intimidating. If anything, his constant stoicism only compels you to misbehave more. You love pressing his buttons, take pleasure in watching him get riled up and lose his calm demeanor. But as of this very moment, you’re simply too tired, and a bit too tipsy, to play along. You wave off his words with a flick of your wrist, only to feel a tug at your ankle.

“Wha–”

“Stop squirming. I’m trying to take them off,” he struggles with the straps woven intricately up your calves, “damned things are more tangled than my cloth.” When he finally removes them, you feel the pads of his fingertips graze your legs softly. Shocks travel your entire body as he pays special attention to the indents adorning your skin— drawbacks of the tight laces that are quite easy to disregard when they urge him to touch you so sweetly.

Shouta stalks away for a moment, only to return with a cotton pad and makeup remover. You’re surprised he even knows what products to use, though you know you shouldn’t be. He has spent countless minutes watching you complete your night routine intently, though usually his stare is paired with a sleepy grumble to hurry up and join him in bed.

He shifts you into a sitting position, wiping tenderly at your cheek while you pull off your false lashes.

“Those are fake?” He snorts, baffled.

“Mhhm, I’m prettier without them, right?” You poke fun at him, knowing he’ll ignore the cheesy question. A faint heat rises on his cheeks.

“Shut up and put this on,” he nudges one of his t-shirts into your arms before he slides your strapless dress down your body. Even with your eyes half-shut, you can feel his charged stare ogling every hill and valley of your naked form. His fingers barely skim you— a purposeful maneuver to focus on the task at hand— but your body jerks into his grasp, keen for more. Sleepy or not, you’d never waste an opportunity for a quickie. You know just how swiftly a few words and caresses on his part could have you bucking and sobbing, like putty in his han– “(Y/N), stop. You’re drunk and half-asleep.”

“Only tipsy and a quarter asleep, thank you very much.” Your eyes flutter open to see the beginnings of a smile touch his lips, but he just barely holds it back. He’s trying his damn hardest to remain stern, how cute. “Shou,” you mewl, elongating his name in the hopes that he’ll budge.

“Don’t pout at me,” he taps a chiding finger against your bottom lip, “the answer is no. I still have work to do.” Ignoring your whined protests, Shouta walks out of the bedroom. Seconds later, you hear his office door shut, a sign that he’ll be in there long into the night.

Any inkling of sleepiness your body possessed is gone without a trace, now feeling nothing but an intense heat coursing the skin your boyfriend brushed, and the alcohol left running through your veins only intensifies that warmth. You turn yourself over in bed, naively will yourself to succumb to sleep and deal with the ache tomorrow; however, your body has other plans. Your thighs press together on their own, desperate for any sort of relief to quell the throbbing between your legs, but it’s no use. Looks like you’re getting up.

With each step towards his office, you find yourself more impassioned. Who does Shou think he is anyways, leaving you alone in such a needy state? It’s not fair. He gives you the slightest taste of his touch and then cruelly rips it away. So if anything, it’s his fault that your body won’t rest until completely appeased— until he soothes the burn. Besides, you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow him the pleasure of hearing your moans through the thin walls knowing he goaded you into touching yourself.

Upon walking through the door of his workspace, you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, the stealthy pro-hero, seated ever-so casually at his desk. He has a hand pressed adamantly against his temple and his hair up in a messy half-bun. So badly do you want to run your hands through it, tug the clip off so you can watch those beautiful, dark locks tumble down his shoulders. You always catch yourself silently hoping for a piece to fall in his eyes so that you can reach out and tuck it behind his ear, delighted when you have any excuse to stroke the soft waves between your fingertips.

“Shou,” you mumble, one hand rubbing at lidded eyes. The white glow of the computer screen washes over him as he turns to you, and you feel your breath hitch again at the Adonis in front of you.

He’s opted out of wearing any sort of top. Instead, gray joggers hang low on his hips, allowing you to feast your eyes on his lean chest and softly sculpted v-lines. A dark line of hair trails down into his pants, and you feel your mouth water at the idea of licking a long stripe up his navel.

“Can’t sleep.” You’re aware it comes out a whine, don’t care to correct your tone because it may just convince him to join you in bed. He rolls his eyes, your name flowing off his tongue with a low sigh— music to your ears.

“I have work to catch up on since somebody forced me to go to that stupid gala,” the accusation is probably sincere, but you smile anyways.

“Please,” there’s that whine again, “just five minutes.” This time your words are accompanied by a quick yank at the hem of your t-shirt. Your cleavage makes an appearance, and when you see his eyes wander up towards the supple globes— tongue just barely poking out to slide across his bottom lip— you know you’ve got him beat. He mutters under his breath, but the only words you catch are something along the lines of ‘pampered brat’.

Well, spoiled or not your methods work, and he’s the one indulging your whims anyways. Being curled up against Shouta’s sturdy chest, you find the fatigue of a long night creeping up on you once again. His close proximity is enough to relax you; all of your senses are engulfed in his presence, saturated with him. Your body gladly welcomes his scent with every inhale— clean laundry, aftershave, and something a bit woodier that can only be described as ‘Shouta’. Though he shaved this morning, newly grown stubble scruffs against you every time you nuzzle against his jaw. Slender fingers tangle in your hair, smoothing lazy circles into your scalp. And with your ear pressed to his chest, you realize the slow, steady drum of his heartbeat just might actually lull you into a deep sleep.

But that’s all before you hitch a leg around his hip to pull him closer. At the sensation of your heat nudged tightly against him, you feel his heartbeat rise rapidly. If any thoughts of sleep linger in your mind, the prospect of riling Shouta up— and perhaps securing an orgasm or two in the process— throws them out the window once again.

Your fingertips begin to caress his shoulders subtly, ear still pressed to his chest to listen for any jumps in his rhythm. The less he notices your movements, the easier it’ll be to overwhelm him all at once. When your fingers don’t incite any noticeable response, you run them through his hair instead. At the same time, you feign discomfort at the position you’re in and twist your hips slightly, making sure to press your core against him harder. You feel his breath hitch under you, and then your hair being jerked harshly.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he forces you to look up at his cloudy eyes, always ringed with darkness no matter how much rest he receives. Caught. You flash him your sweetest pout, gazing up at him through dainty lashes. A slight ‘hm?’ leaves your lips, but within seconds, they’re attached to his neck, shamelessly kissing and nibbling at the sweet spot near his jaw. “If you’re not going to behave on your own, I’ll make you.” Your thighs tighten around his hips, goosebumps trailing your arms at the clear-cut threat.

“Do it then,” you urge between kisses, now peppering them up his jaw. Your teeth kiss the shell of his ear before you whisper, “or I’ll just keep misbehaving, daddy.”

In an instant, your face is shoved into the mattress, arms crossed behind your back with Shouta’s cock straining against you through his pants. Rigid cotton brushes against your folds and you realize that perhaps he was expecting this turn of events more than he let on, because the fucker never bothered giving you a change of underwear.

“You’re such a needy slut,” he spits, heated breath fanning your neck while he tightens his grasp around your wrists. “Can’t go one night without getting me worked up, huh?” His free hand darts under your shirt, now kneading and pinching at your ass.

“Nope,” you bite back, always ecstatic to provide sassy retorts, especially when he’s seething like this.

A stinging pain travels your body when he slaps the globe of your ass. Once, twice, five times, each spanking invoking a louder gasp until tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Are you done acting up?” Shouta’s tone is slow and composed, almost disinterested. If not for his heaving chest pressed against your back, you would believe him unaffected by the punishment.

You, on the other hand, are very obviously flustered. Tears stream down your face freely now, and you’re positive the spanking has left a blazing handprint on your cheek as a reminder for days to come. Shouta gives you a final, petty love tap to shake you out of your thoughts. “I don’t have all night.”

But you’re left unsatisfied, the throbbing between your thighs only worsened by his harsh welts and complete neglect of your clit. He hasn’t made a single motion towards your glistening cunt, probably won’t ever if you simply take his discipline lying down.

“What if I’m not?” The words leave your mouth hesitantly, face turning to stare back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He doesn’t say a word, his own eyes narrowing and lips quivering into a disgusted scowl. Even though you’ve asked for this, know exactly what situation you’ve gotten yourself into, your heart quickens at the thrill of seeing your partner so worked up. He may not be outwardly angry— Shouta has always been a man who prefers quick, biting remarks over piercing screams and smashing glass— but his mannerisms tell you everything you need to know. It’s going to be a long, sleepless night.

You feel the tight, unforgiving fabric knotted around your body before you’re even aware of what’s happening. Nimble fingers quickly wrap your arms in place. Then, your legs are bent at the knees and tied securely to your wrists. Only your taut midriff and breasts touch the mattress, leaving your sopping core exposed, no way to flail or deny him entrance. You’re his to do whatever he pleases with.

“Behave.” He wraps your hair around his wide palm and yanks hard, a pained cry leaving you at the prickling in your scalp. His fingers graze your slit, but never touch you where you need him. It’s absolutely maddening. You buck into him to no avail— the cloth wraps too firmly around your limbs.

“Shou, I– I, please,” you’re practically sobbing, his name leaving your lips over and over like a prayer. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve angered him.

“Who said you could speak?” He tugs harder on your locks. The motion rocks your skull, all nerves standing on end. It fucking hurts, but the action has your slit quivering all the same. “Are you going to be a good little whore now?”

“Yes, Shou.” The response wins you a sharp slap to the ass, the sore cheek. You suppress a loud wail, correcting yourself quickly. “Y-Yes daddy, I’ll behave.” He doesn’t respond, only lets out a low growl and loosens his grip on your hair.

Then, his presence is gone. He’s moved off the bed, and your cunt pulsates at the number of delicious things he may do next.

A slam rings out from your bedside dresser and he’s back within seconds. Something foreign, hard and long, is pressed against your tight hole. No stretching, no warning, he simply sinks the toy into your slick cunt. After a few merciless thrusts you’re whimpering softly, choking back pleas. If he wanted you to beg, you’d know it.

“Is this what you wanted?” The dildo is driven into you faster. “Is this what you were grinding like a bitch in heat for?” His words are spit like venom, tone disappointed— appalled— with you, but it only fuels your steady ascension to orgasm. You’re teetering closer and closer to the edge, but you just need a bit more. His cock, a finger on your clit, anything.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You can’t help the onslaught of moans that spill from your lips in between pants. His hands begin kneading at your ass again, right cheek still flaming with every touch. If he’d only remove the bindings, now digging tightly into your wrists and ankles, you’d be able to hump back onto the toy as you so desperately wish to.

He stills all at once, leaving you distraught and gasping. If you cry out, you’ll only be met with harsh reprimands. You want to sob— for his touch, for a break, for anything to soothe the ache in your core.

You hear it before you feel it.

A small buzzing noise as something is clicked on. Then, vibrations wracking your insides, your clit— a slew of pleasure as the dildo pulses. You sigh loudly, that stubborn itch finally being appeased by the pressure of the toy.

“Is my pretty little slut enjoying herself?” Shouta laughs behind you, voice still cold and filled with loathing. It’s as though he’s repulsed by your desire, your ceaseless need for him. You mewl loudly at the thought. “Mhm, and you’re going to continue enjoying yourself,” you feel the bed dip as he steps away, “until I finish my work.”

The fucking bastard. He’s leaving you tied up and helpless with a sex toy on the highest setting. He knows you’ll be a drooling mess for him, probably only half-conscious, by the time he’s back.

“N- no Shou, please.” Your protests do nothing to sway him. He simply snickers and walks out of the bedroom, leaving you to writhe and wail on your own. And God, does it feel good. Your stomach pulls taut as you rut against the bed like– like an animal. In a constant cycle of edging and ebbing, your orgasms build and build and build until you’re hit full force, only to begin all over again. It’s equal parts satisfying and unfulfilling, because fuck, do you just want your boyfriend’s cock inside you. It’s all you can think of— his warmth, his hands roaming your body, sweet, degrading nothings whispered into your ear while he pounds into you.

You lose track of time, aren’t even sure at this point whether your body is spasming or simply attempting to dispel the thick length inside you. The pleasure has turned to an entirely different ache, swollen clit now abused by the constant vibrations. Your voice is run hoarse, face carved into a permanent wince. And despite your attempts to stay quiet, chokes and gasps still rip through your throat. Even Shouta’s cloth is soaked through with the scorching sweat enveloping your body.

Though absolutely exhausted, you’re conscious enough to hear his quick steps as he makes his way to the bedroom. You can sense the smirk plastered across his face without even seeing it.

“Tired out?” Fingertips ghost over the cloth and across your painfully numb calves, nerves jumping at the feeling. “Ah’, you’ve soaked the bedspread.” A fierce blush runs across your skin, humiliated at the sight you must seem to him— a drooling, high-strung mess. He either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the way your body shakes at every prod.

All you can do is let out a meager ‘Mmph’, your brain too scrambled to form anything close to words, let alone coherent sentences. “If you use your words, I’ll consider taking the toy out.” Shouta’s ruthless; he knows every inch of your body, your reactions, like the back of his hand. Of course he’d ask you to use your words. He lives to watch you come undone, thrives off the pain etched onto your features.

“Please,” the request is drawn out— paused midway to let loose another gasp— and dripping in desperation. “I can’t– I just-” It’s all you can manage in your state.

“Seems you’ve been fucked stupid,” he chuckles darkly, though the vibrations wracking your cunt finally come to a halt and the dildo is swiftly removed. Your core clenches at the emptiness. “But I haven’t had the chance to stuff this tight little pussy full,” he slaps a harsh palm against your slit, making sure to wipe the slick that now coats his palm all across your cheek. If you weren’t aware of how soaked you were before, Shouta makes damn sure that you do now. The most you can work out in response is a feeble squeak.

One of Shouta’s hands strokes at your matted hair from behind, agile fingers tidying the disheveled strands. The other rubs harsh circles on your clit; you twitch incessantly, sparks running through every inch of your body. “There’s that pained little face I love,” he grabs at your cheeks roughly, forcing your lips into a ‘o’ while grinding into your calf. “Fuck.”

Your legs and arms slump onto the mattress as soon as the cloth is unbound. Every muscle in your body aches with overuse; numbness buzzes through the limbs that were strung together for God knows how long.

Your boyfriend— sadist that he fucking is— thrusts himself into you without warning. Sure, you’ve been stretched by the toy, but your poor slit is so overworked by previous orgasms that even the slightest hint of friction invokes senseless blubbering, your tongue lolling to the side in defeat. Wet, harsh slaps of skin against skin sweep the room, mixed with cries of ‘daddy,’ ‘please,’ and senseless nothings.

“Wanna see you cum.” It’s an order more than a request, grunted into the crook of your neck. His chest flattens against your back. It should feel suffocating, should feel disgusting, considering your body is gleaming with hours worth of perspiration, but you’re enamored with the warmth— engrossed by the way your skin sizzles at his touch. His fingers are secured at your hips, propping your ass in the air and pulling it against him with every piercing thrust.

“N- no, can’t,” cheek still buried into the mattress, you muster whatever strength you have left and grip at his slick bicep behind you. He simply swats your hand away, takes your wrist between his slender fingers, and presses it into the bed. His thumb caresses the marks left by the cloth, savoring the aftermath of the punishment he inflicted.

“You can and you will.” Despite the rasp in his voice, the command still holds authority over your forlorn frame and sends prickles down your spine. You feel yourself, yet again, creeping to the edge of an orgasm. “Cum for me.”

It’s those three, simple words that have you seeing white. Breathless, your brows scrunch together and lips open into a wide ‘o’, but no sound comes out. Your whole body tenses, all senses overwhelmed by this final tidal wave of pleasure, and then finally goes slack.

You’re officially done, body worked to the point of no return. A couple more snaps of his hips and Shouta follows, your name grunted loudly as he spills into you.

For a long time you simply lay together silently, chests heaving with his body still splayed over yours. You know that eventually he’ll roll out of bed and make sure you’re all cleaned up. You always revel in the way he pampers you, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t miss a single inch of skin. If you weren’t so exhausted, he’d probably run a bath as well.

Right now, the heat is finally proving too much for you, so you tap at his hip and he slides himself out of your raw core.

“Ouch,” you wince at the friction, the ability to speak returning to you at last. The whole bottom half of your body is tender. It’ll be a miracle if you’re able to sit comfortably for the next few days.

“Surprised you actually behaved,” he chuckles, flipping you over to hold you. His fingers rub lazy circles into your back and he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You were so good for me.”

“Not like you had me tied up or anything,” you poke a finger at his chest. “And to do paperwork at that.”

“Oh,” a slow, smug smile inches across his face, “I didn’t get any work done.” You might just slap him.

“Shouta,” your voice is even, but your eyes pierce his, narrowed in disbelief, “what do you mean you didn’t get any work done?” His laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Do you think I could really focus, hearing your screeching through the walls like that?”

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#AIZAWA FUCKERS COME THRU #this took me so long i hated it for the longest #but reading over it now i think it's okay??? lmk #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha #bnha smut #shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x you #daddy aizawa #sunny writes #bnha fic #mha smut #mha

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tanyawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Pull | Tup x Reader

I just realized I hit 200 followers, thank y'all so much!! My writer's block continues but luckily I have a few fics stored up from ages ago, like this one. Enjoy and thank you for 200!! 🥰😘

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (m & f receiving), masturbation, hair pulling, cockwarming, fluff

•••

He was exhausted, everyone was. Tup was especially exhausted after being punched in the gut by an unarmed clanker. He just wanted to shower and sleep, and see you. He'd been planet-side for weeks, but now that the campaign was over they were allowed to head back to the Resolute.

Tup was lucky his feet were able to carry him back to your room. You weren't there so he assumed you were working the late shift again. He collapsed into a chair for a moment, resting until he felt like he had enough energy to stand in the shower for half an hour. He took off as much of his armor as he could while still sitting down before having to stand and remove the rest.

He had just entered the refresher when he heard the main door open. He poked his head out and saw you walk in, looking just as exhausted as him. You peeled off your bloody medic coat and tossed it into a bin to be washed, or discarded.

“Hey,” he said with a small smile. You turned to look at him. “Hey, Tup. When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago,” he answered, “I was about to have a shower, do you want to join me?”

“Kriff yes,” you accepted. You stepped into the refresher with him and began shedding your layers of clothing. Tup turned on the water and removed the top of his blacks while he was waiting for the water to warm up. “Rough day?” He asked. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Was the campaign that tough or was Skywalker being particularly reckless this time?” You replied. Tup checked the water a last time and stripped out of his blacks completely. “It was a little of both,” he told you.

Tup watched as you took the last of your clothes off and stepped into the shower, pulling him in after you. “What about you, baby? You’re not hurt are you? I’m glad you weren’t in the medbay,” you said, hugging him from behind. You rested your head against his warm back, feeling the water run over your arms as it cascaded down his front.

“Just a metal fist to my stomach, I’ll be fine,” he said. You removed your arms, “sorry.” He assured you he was fine again and you started massaging his back. You ran your hands over his tan skin, gently pressing your thumbs into his shoulders. That’s when you noticed his hair was still up. It was messy, tangled, and dirty but still held into a bun. You laughed at the fact that his hair was able to hold up better than yours.

“Tup, honey, your hair is a mess. Let me wash it for you, I know you love when I play with your hair,” you said. You reached up and took his hair out letting it fall over his shoulders. You made sure to get it completely wet before working on it further.

You were right, Tup did love when you played with his hair, a little too much. His scalp was more sensitive than his brothers and it felt like heaven whenever you played with or tugged on his hair. Tup didn’t exactly have the energy for sex right now and he knew you didn’t either. He would just have to try and not let it affect him like it usually did. He tried to preoccupy himself by lathering his chest and arms with soap.

You worked your fingers through his hair, starting at his scalp and running your fingers through the length of his dark wavy hair. Most of it was fine but occasionally your fingers would get caught on a knot or a tangle and pull his hair a little bit. You apologized every time, knowing he probably didn't want you yanking his head around right now.

Tup on the other hand was having a difficult time keeping quiet. Every time your fingers got stuck and pulled, he had to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning or whimpering. He looked down a little and found himself rock hard from your ministrations. He cursed himself in his mind, you were just trying to do him a favor, why did it have to turn him on?

You got his hair untangled and squirted some shampoo into your hand before beginning to massage his head. Tup's eyes nearly rolled back into his head and he bit down on part of his hand, trying not to make any noise. He didn't want you to feel obligated to please him just because he was aroused. You were tired and you probably wanted to go to bed, not exhaust yourself even more by trying to get him off.

An idea popped into his head. Since you were behind him and had no view of his front, or the effect you were currently having on him, he might be able to fix this. If he could quietly jerk himself off without you knowing, you could both just go to bed once you were done showering.

Tup took his other hand, still covered in soap, and brought it to his throbbing length. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep quiet. He slowly stroked up and down his cock, now trying to keep his breathing normal. Your nails dragged against his scalp and his knees nearly buckled. The hand on his cock now speeding up, long drags had turned into quick tugs. It felt so damn good. The combination of your fingers working through and pulling his hair and the simulation to his cock was getting him close very fast.

Tup had been sure he was being quiet and trying to breathe steady, but what he hadn't accounted for was the growing tension in his muscles as he got closer to his release. You had noticed he was growing stiff and almost starting to shake. It confused you and you slowed your hands to a stop, letting the water rinse out the soap in his hair.

"Babe, are you ok?" You asked. He didn't reply, just let out a shaky breath. You placed your hands on his waist. "Tup," you called again, "sweetheart, what's wrong?" You nudged his sides trying to get him to turn around and face you but he didn't move. You decided to move around him since he wasn't going to, and that's when you saw his situation.

He was biting down hard on the skin between his thumb and index finger while his other hand had stopped moving on his dick and was now squeezing the base. He let out a breath and looked at you. "I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't help it," he said, looking away in embarrassment. "I thought I could....without you noticing, but.."

You cupped his cheek and turned his head to look at you. "It's alright, hun, I should've known better," you said. "Now let me take care of it for you." Tup looked worried and grabbed your hands in his before you could touch him. "No! That's exactly why I was doing it myself. You're exhausted and need rest, I don't want you to feel obligated to please me whenever I get a hard on," he rambled. "It'll go away, I'll be fine."

You raised an eyebrow at him, "Yeah, right. Tup just let me-"

"No!" He persisted, "you've spent all day taking care of my brothers, you need time to relax." You wiggled your hands out of his grasp and placed them on his cheeks again. "Yes, and now I want to spend my time taking care of my favorite boy," you said, your expression loving. Tup still looked a little embarrassed. "But you-"

"Tup, did it ever occur to you that I might enjoy sucking you off? That I do it because I enjoy it too?" You saw his eyes move around as he considered your words, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "I like making you feel good, Tup, it makes me feel good too. Now will you let me touch you?" His shoulders sagged in defeat and he looked at the shower floor again. You reached out and took him in your hand, making him hiss. You walked him back so he was leaning his back against the shower wall. You whispered a 'please' and he slowly nodded.

With his permission, you sank to your knees and licked a teasing stripe from base to tip. You swirled your tongue around his sensitive tip before closing your lips around it. Tup couldn't hold back the moan that flew past his lips, throwing his head back against the tiled wall. You slowly took him into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You held there for a moment until you heard him whimper above you and you started bobbing your head. You used your hands on what you couldn't fit in your mouth, you felt a hand come to rest at the back of your head. He didn't apply any pressure, he just needed something to ground him.

He was rapidly approaching his high, having been so close already. His moans bounced around the room, the sound music to your ears. You knew he was close and you sucked harder, beginning to gently massage his balls with your other hand. He moaned out your name, his fingers digging into your hair. Your mouth was driving him crazy and your tongue hit every spot that made him twitch in your mouth. You knew just how to work him into a whimpering mess with your velvet mouth.

You sucked hard before pulling off of him and standing up. You kept working him closer with one hand while worming the other into his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. A high pitched moan escaped his throat and he grabbed onto your arm. "I know you're close, baby. Does that feel good?" You cooed. Tup bit his lip, whimpering and cursing under his breath. "Y-yes, feels incredible," he breathed.

Your hand sped up, jerking him furiously. "C'mon, Tup," you urged. "Be a good boy and cum for me." You finished your words with a sharp tug on his hair. Tup shouted out as he came, spilling his seed on your stomach and his. You worked him through his orgasm, letting the water wash away his release. The tension was gone from his body and he looked more relaxed. You reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Will you let me return the favor?" You sighed. "You need to learn to be a little selfish, baby," you said.

You both finished washing up and turned off the shower. You dried off and Tup let you brush his hair and dry it as best you could. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug before looking down at you affectionately.

"Can I please return the favor now?" He asked. You forwent clothes and walked into the bedroom naked. "Babe, you injured your stomach. I don't want you laying on it just for me," you told him. Tup followed you into the bedroom, grabbing your shoulder and turning you to face him. "Then how about you ride my face? I enjoy making you feel good too," he said, smirking fondly. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. "You know I love the way you taste."

You felt yourself grow wet at his words. You sighed again, he was so sweet, how could you deny him? Besides, fair is fair. "Alright, I suppose," you gave in.

Tup laid back on the bed and got comfortable before motioning you towards him. You climbed on the bed and straddled his chest. He put his arms under your thighs and around your back, urging you forward towards his mouth. "Are you sure, baby? You're already tired and I don't want to suffocate you," you whined. "I'm never too tired to love you," Tup smiled. He nudged you up more, nearly getting you into position. "C'mon, love. Lemme taste," he begged sweetly. There was something about the way he said it that made you give in. You moved over his face but couldn't make eye contact with him, or lower yourself onto his mouth.

Tup exhaled, the warm air fanning over your rapidly moistening center. He parted your folds with one hand, lightly blowing, causing you to shudder. He lifted his head and licked a quick stripe up your slit. You squeaked in surprise and pleasure, chancing a look down at him. He smiled warmly at you and slowly pulled you down. "Just enjoy it, I'm gonna make you feel good."

Your cunt finally rested on his mouth and he immediately got to work, ripping moans from you as he devoured your pussy. One look at Tup might make you think he was innocent and inexperienced, but Maker the things he could do with that mouth. You dug your fingers into his hair and he moaned, sending pleasant vibrations through you. You felt his hips buck into the air as he got worked up again.

You tried to resist grinding into his face as he ate you out. His tongue expertly playing with your clit, flicking over it and sucking on it. In between which he would stick it into you and wiggle it around, tasting every delicious inch he could reach. You kept a firm grip on his hair, pulling when he hit a specifically good spot.

“Tup,” you moaned out, grabbing the headboard. You knew without a doubt he was hard again. You took your hand off the headboard and slid it down his body, intent on pleasing him too. He was having none of it. He wrapped his lips around your bud and sucked hard, making you scream and grab the headboard again.

You could feel him chuckle into your folds and you looked down at him, seeing the innocent look in his eyes. That look combined with him sliding two fingers into you and abusing your clit with his tongue, sent you over the edge. You pulled harshly on his hair and your mouth flew open in a silent scream of ecstasy. Tup slurped up the juices that spilled from within you, gently cleaning you up as you came down from your high.

Once you got your senses back, you looked behind you. Sure enough, Tup was hard again. “Baby, now look what happened,” you pouted with a smile. He smiled back at you and helped you lay down next to him. “Actually, can I try something I’ve wanted to do for a while?” He asked. You rolled over to face him, pulling the sheets up over the both of you. "What's that, love?" You asked, clearly even more tired than before. Tup blushed and nervously played with a ringlet of his hair. "C-can I - I want, uh, I want to fall asleep inside of you," he stuttered out.

You were somewhat taken aback, but you were glad he told you, it showed he was getting comfortable sharing his sexual wants and fantasies with you. You smiled groggily at him. "That sounds like heaven," you replied.

You rolled to face away from him, looking over your shoulder with an enticing yet exhausted expression. Tup scooted closer to you so his front was pressed tight to your back. He helped you lift your leg up and you felt his cock slip in between your thighs. You let him hold your leg while you lined him up, pushing the head of his cock inside. Tup let out a shaky breath and slowly eased himself inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. He lowered your leg back down and groaned deeply at how tight you got. You hummed contently at the feeling of him nestled snug and deep within you. Tup wrapped an arm around your middle to keep you close. You felt like paradise around him, your walls silky and warm. It was oddly comforting, a feeling of closeness and possession that went beyond the act of passion itself.

"Goodnight, my love," you whispered, placing your arm on top of his. He placed a kiss to your shoulder blade, "Goodnight, cyare. Sleep well."

#star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper tup #tup x reader

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Watch the Sunlight Fade: 10 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: Don’t come for me. I was just way too excited, and my patience is wearing this. This is definitely one of my favorite chapters!!!! Hope you like it :)

Warnings for some violence read: murder.

As always, you can message me if you want more information!

Rated M

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He couldn’t get out of the bloody bar fast enough. Watching her walk out after what appeared to be a difficult conversation with Neal was hard enough, especially with his apparent complete lack of understanding of her emotional state at any given time. The fact that he couldn’t tell how upset she was is troubling. But the fact that Killian couldn’t follow her out immediately and take her in his arms to hold her until whatever Neal said to upset her melted away feels impossible.

By the time he got outside, weaving through the crowd and pushing through the doors as she had, she was long gone. He’s not entirely surprised that she’s walking home, but it was only about five minutes between them leaving, and as he speeds down the quiet streets searching for her, she’s nowhere to be found.

It isn’t until he reaches their building and parks his bike that he notices her, catching her cowering in the lobby as he assumes the sound of his bike startled her. He feels bad about it, but puts the thoughts out of his mind as he sets the kickstand in place and rushes towards the front doors. When he swings them open and forces his way inside with too much enthusiasm, she gasps.

“Swan,” he breathes when he sees her, rushing to stand in front of her and placing his hands on her upper arms. “It’s alright.”

He watches her face shifting quickly, moving from relief to fear to anger to heartbreak at a nearly imperceptible pace. When tears break over her eyes and rush down her cheeks, dragging with them streaks of black mascara, he reaches for her and she pulls away. “Did you know?” she asks, her voice shaking and her bottom lip pouting out before she bites it into her mouth.

“Know what, love?” he asks, and with his words, he sees anger taking over.

“Don’t play dumb,” she insists, shoving past him and reaching for the door before throwing herself out into the chilly evening air.

“Emma… Emma!” He hurries behind her, grabbing her by the elbow and regretting it when she flinches away and turns towards him, giving him a look of angry disgust. He never wants to make her flinch from his touch. “Tell me what he said.”

“Like you don’t know!” she accuses. “Is this why you were acting weird when Gold came in the other day? You figured it out and didn’t tell me.”

“Emma…”

He’s angry with himself, for being too afraid to tell her what he’d suspected. She’s right, of course; he had figured it out when Gold mentioned her being important for the club’s future. But his fear that it had been true, that perhaps Neal had succeeded in his goal to impregnate her without her even having a clue, was too overwhelming. He’s angry with Neal, too, but he shouldn’t expect much from him. He couldn't even begin to imagine being the one to tell her something so horrific and seeing the look on her face when he did.

But the look on her face now, when she’s realized his betrayal, is far worse than anything he could have conjured in his mind.

She shakes her head and lets out a soft, pained sob before turning away from him again and starting down the street. With her back turned towards him, he notices her backpack and panic sets in. She can’t run.

“Swan, please. Just wait. Please!”

“No! I trusted you, Killian! I told you how desperate I was to know what he had planned so that I could prepare for it. And then you figured it out and you didn’t tell me!” She pushes him against his chest and he steps back as she lets out another sob. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me?!”

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispers, his voice seeming too loud against the still night. She shakes her head again and laughs, although he’s certain she sees no humor in this situation. “Love, I'm so sorry. I should have told you; I know you’re strong enough to know the truth and I should’ve seen that. I wasn’t strong enough to tell you.”

“But I’m not, though,” she cries, shaking her head and pushing tears away from her cheeks. “I can’t handle this.”

“Emma, please,” he begs again, taking her hand in his carefully and, when she lets him, pulling her towards the alley beside their building. He can’t risk them being seen by a passerby so he hides them in the cover of darkness. “Please, love, please stay. You can survive anything, I promise you. But if you leave, they’ll hunt you down. If we run now, they’ll find us and kill us.”

With another sniffle, she leans back against the brick wall of their building in defeat. He takes a bold step forward so that he’s practically embracing her, leaning his hands against the wall behind her in an attempt to hold her together somehow, and she drops her head down against his chest with another sob. “Killian,” she cries, and he feels her breaking down as she wraps her arms around his waist. “If I’m pregnant, I’ll--”

“Hush, love,” he quiets as soothingly as he can. His hand moves from the wall to the back of her head, cradling her to his chest and stroking along her scalp as the other presses against her back. “Just try and relax, Emma. We’ll worry about that soon, but for now, you’ve got to try and calm down.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t.”

There’s nothing he can say, and he knows it. Anything he says will sound like he’s making it up to make her feel better. She’s completely right in assuming that this is bad. So he simply holds her, continues to try to calm her labored breathing as she breaks down in his arms once more and again at the fault of a man who claims to love her.

“What did you mean?” she asks after a few moments, once her breathing has evened slightly. “When you said they’d kill us?”

He pulls away from her just slightly and uses his thumbs to brush the tears off of her cheeks and the hair out of her eyes. “Well, they’re… a rather violent and vengeful bunch, love.”

“No,” she shakes her head, letting it drop to the side slightly into his palm. “I mean… you’re acting like… Like you’d come.”

“Of course I would,” he answers immediately without a thought to the contrary. The idea that he would let her go off on her own is too absurd to even consider. “I could never leave you. I could never let you go through this on your own. If you’ll have me, I’ll always fight to be with you, and that includes running away with you even though it’s a bloody daft idea.”

“Killian,” she whispers, looking into his eyes so that he can see every facet of her. She shows him the deepest and darkest corners of her soul in her eyes and he loves every inch of her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I figured it out and I should’ve told you then, but I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared for you. I’m terrified of what they’re doing to you, love. Every day I see the light fade from your eyes and it breaks me. I was too scared and selfish to be the one to make it fade even more by telling you.”

She shakes her head, but she maintains her strong and meaningful stare into his eyes. “You're the only one who cares. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Of course I care,” he whispers.

“Why?”

He lets his mouth hang open for a moment too long, drawing his brows close together in thought as he brushes his thumbs beneath her eyes again. “Don’t you know, Emma?” he asks, genuinely surprised that she doesn’t. “It’s… you. It’s because I love you.”

Her gaze conveys so much to him, and it almost breaks his heart. She tells him she’s in disbelief, that she doesn’t believe she’s worthy of having someone love her, without speaking. In silence, she tells him that she’s overwhelmed, but her small, almost imperceptible smile tells him that at least she isn’t angry. “You do?” she asks in doubt.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I love you. I’ll do anything to get you out of this, Emma. I promise you, I’ll get you away from him. But we can’t run now, Swan. It’s far too dangerous to run now without a plan of where or how to go.”

She shakes her head, seemingly barely able to comprehend his words, and repeats, “you love me?”

“Aye,” he smiles softly. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“No, I-- I’m surprised because I do believe you. I’ve never heard those words before and actually believed them.”

He can’t seem to catch his breath, not while she moves her head just slightly enough to bump her nose against his, her lips so close to his that he can taste the fruity chapstick she applied earlier. He tells her, “I'll never stop working to ensure that you believe me, then,” and is met with an audible gasp, her fingers finding the lapels of his jacket and pulling him to close the small gap between them.

The kiss they share is fire, a white hot blaze burning between them as he moves his hands from her cheeks and down to her neck, cradling her face to his and refusing to let her go. He can’t imagine ever being apart from her now. Her own grip leaves his jacket and trails to the back of his head, lacing her fingers through his hair as she parts her lips against his. It’s an invitation, one he accepts as he slides his tongue along the soft skin of her bottom lip and then along the inside of her top.

His rings tangle in her hair and tug slightly, making her gasp and tighten her own grip on him. He almost worries that he’s hurt her, but she refuses to break away from him and lets out the softest moan when he lets one hand slide down to her waist and pull her even closer to him. He doesn’t know if he’s making up the way her hips press firmly against his, but he hopes to whatever god might be listening that he isn’t.

“Emma,” he whispers when they finally stop for a breath, her pants coming out forcefully and her lips parting tantalizingly, making him want nothing more than to capture them in his again. “My love--”

“Well, what have we here?”

~~~~

The way things shift gives her whiplash.

She can’t keep up with the back and forth, one moment feeling terrified of the direction her life is headed, the next feeling more loved than she ever has before, and the next feeling as though her world is crashing around them. They couldn’t have been seen. They only just found one another, she only just learned the truth of how he felt for her. It can’t end so soon after it began.

Killian loves her. In all her years, after countless betrayal and heartbreak, she never thought she would find herself in a position like this. She never thought a person could tell her that they love her and that she would believe them. After Neal, after his farce and his attempts at coercing her by offering love as a bargaining chip, she thought herself completely closed off to love, never again willing to accept it.

But Killian loves her. And she knows that he’s being truthful when he tells her so.

She loves him, too. It’s a fact she’s been slowly but surely coming to terms with over the last few weeks and months, and hearing his confession will only make it easier for her to tell him so. But they won’t ever get the chance.

They’ve been caught. It’s over before it can hardly begin.

“Rufio,” she hears him growl, stepping to the side and standing in front of her, blocking her view of the man who is surely about to ruin everything for her.

“Just imagine the look on Neal’s face when I tell him I caught his girlfriend making out with Hook.”

“Mate--” She steps away, anxiously holding her hands up in surrender, ready to beg this man to leave them be. “Emma--”

“Think he and Peter will give me a front row seat to watch the two of you getting slaughtered?”

She tries to stop him. She takes another step forward. “You can’t--”

“Emma! Come back.”

“I can, and I will. In fact, maybe some photographic evidence will help.”

The bright light of his camera flash blinds her, and she realizes that, even though they aren't in each other’s arms anymore, his picture of the two of them standing in a dark alley together will be incriminating enough. “To think, Cassidy’s whore is actually in bed with someone else.”

“Don’t you dare speak of her that way.” His voice sends chills down her spine, and she recalls what he’d told her once about his violent past.

“Or what, you’ll gut me like a fish? I don’t see your precious hook anywhere,” the man goads. He laughs before he says, “Don’t worry. Peter and Neal will probably give you the same treatment you gave to all of our rivals. Or maybe Neal’ll smash you over the head like he did your brother.”

“Shut up,” he warns. She sees Killian reaching behind himself, and when she looks down, he’s lifting his shirt and exposing a small gun that she didn’t know was resting at his hip. Her eyes widen and she gasps softly.

“As for the whore, I’m sure they’ll find an appropriate punishment. Maybe we'll all get to see her work with your other girlfriend after all. A whore like that, I’m sure she’s down for a couple of group scenes, and I doubt any of the guys will turn down that opportunity.”

“I’m warning you,” he says, his hand hovering over the gun but not yet gripping it. “If you go now-- if you stay silent-- I won’t kill you.”

He laughs condescendingly, stepping forward. “Honestly, even if they don’t go in that direction, I think I'll take the liberty myself. She’s whore enough to deserve it.”

Rufio lunges for her quickly, Killian’s shouts breaking through the darkness as her back is pressed against the brick wall. She chokes out a cry as one hand grips her throat and his other yanks at the waist of her pants.

The oppressive nature of his touch is interrupted as Killian yanks him away from her before his hands can wander and throws him to the ground. “Get the fuck away from her,” Killian growls, aiming his gun right at her attacker’s head.

“Why, so you can have a go at her?” She watches Rufio shift, his hands reaching behind himself until she hears the cock of his own gun. “I know you want a taste of that pret--”

His words and movements are cut off by a loud crack echoing through the air, nearly deafening her and stunning her to a state of violent rigidity. She can’t move, her muscles tense and nearly painful as she stands behind Killian’s broad form, refusing to look beyond him and meet what she knows will be lying on the ground.

The silence is deafening, her ears ringing and no other sound perceptible until she hears him say, “Fuck.”

“Killian,” she breathes through a whisper. She places her hand on his shoulder and jumps when he does, her eyes wide and her hands shaking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says again, tossing his gun to the ground with a crash and thrusting his hands into his hair. “Fuck!”

“Killian,” she tries again, a bit louder this time, and her voice sounds foreign as her ears continue to ring. “Killian!” she tries again when he doesn't answer. He turns to her suddenly, his eyes wide and startled, and she sees tears leaking from the corners.

“Emma, I-- I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” she tries to promise, but he shakes his head and starts pacing, walking in circles around her.

“Fuck, I-- I promised I wouldn’t. I said I won't do that anymore after Liam-- and then you-- but he--”

“Stop,” she tries, holding her hands in front of herself and dying to grab onto his own. “Please, just… Killian…”

He drops to the ground, sitting on his feet and resting his elbows on his knees, dropping his face to his hands. “Emma,” he mumbles into his palms, and before he can say anything more, she hears a sob breaking out of his throat. “Fuck, Emma--”

“It’s okay,” she says again, squatting to his level and putting her hands on his shoulders. “Killian, he would’ve told.”

“He threatened you. He attacked you-- he said he would… He pointed his gun at you.”

“I know,” she whispered. “He would’ve told Neal.”

“No,” he insists, finally looking up at her, and she’s met with such painful desperation in his tearful eyes that she can’t hold back her own tears. “He called you… the things he said he would do to you… he grabbed you. I couldn’t take it, Emma. When he pulled out his gun, I snapped. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“We didn’t have a choice, Killian. He would’ve told and we would’ve… he’s right. Neal and Peter would’ve killed you. And who knows what they would’ve done to me.”

She takes his face in her hands just as he had done for her mere moments ago. Things have changed so quickly. They went from anger to bliss to fear, and she has whiplash. She can’t keep up. All she wants is the joy that came from being with Killian. Kissing him and being in his arms let her fears melt away, and now that she’s had a moment lacking in terror, she wonders if she’ll survive long enough to feel that way again. She doubts it.

“We have to clean this up,” she murmurs, her nose inches from his.

“We…?” he asks slowly, and although he previously refused to meet her eyes, unable to through his shock, he does now. All she sees is clarity and truth.

“Yes, we. We have to move… him. And then we have to go upstairs and make a plan, because I can’t stand to spend another day here.”

“Emma…” he starts, but she feels her own sense of urgency creeping up on her and she shakes her head.

“We have to go,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his lips if only to prove to him that she isn’t going anywhere. He did this, and although it wasn’t right, he did it for her. He did it to protect her, whereas Neal threw knives at her for sport. Killian loves her. Neal never has.

They stand together, Killian swaying slightly in shock when he sees what he’s done to Rufio. She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it, looking up at him and nodding in a silent vow that she’s here with him. He did this for her, and she’ll help him out of it. They find his phone and delete the photo he took of them. She takes his feet and Killian takes his hands, and together they hoist him over the side of the dumpster and let the top slam shut.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @hookedmom @pirateprincessofpizza

#watch the sunlight fade #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #sunlight ff #captain swan au #cs ff au #modern au #see warnings #cs hurt comfort #captain swan angst #emotional hurt/comfort

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singingcroissants · 3 years

Text

Only Us

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

This is a for @oceanspray5, who requested a one-shot based on the lyrics of “Only Us” from Dear Evan Hansen. I took that prompt but made it about (princess bride guy voice) *~mawwiage~*

Enjoy!!

Warnings: slight PG-13 content

Note: This fic is aged up, as always!

The smell of coffee gave a rich, dark scent to the air; as it wafted from the kitchen it cleared your head from the morning fog you had come to recognize as a privilege, a sign of a good night’s sleep. The apartment was quiet, save for the creaking of your old wooden floor beneath your socks. Gratefully retrieving your mug from the cabinet, you noticed a scribbled love note stuck against the coffee pot announcing that Five had gone for a walk. Once you had poured yourself a hot mug of coffee, you turned towards your bedroom and set about getting ready, your mind wandering as you began to prepare for the day.

You never planned on getting married; commitment seemed like a chore more than anything else, since it was quite difficult to devote yourself to something or someone just to lose it eventually. (You pondered this thought as you sat in front of your mirror, brushing through your hair and wondering when along the decades you had become so jaded.) It was Five who changed everything for you, not that he ever meant to.

You first met each other at some rock concert in 1972. Your respective assignments had led you there, both of your targets being tour groupies. You tried to kill each other out of suspicion, but ended up spending a wild night with the band and groupies in order to maintain your covers. In the end, you and Five headed back to the commission with wild hair, rolled up sleeves and matching tattoos under your blazers. You swore each other to secrecy about the events that had taken place that night, and...the rest was history. (Literally).

---

You were startled from your thoughts by the creak of your bedroom door, looking up to see Five’s face, twisted in his signature tight-lipped grin.

“Hey,” he awkwardly greeted you. You had never met anyone else in the world who was both so awkward and so confident.

“Good morning, my husband-to-be.” Jokingly you tried the words out, but they tasted strange on your tongue and sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. Pushing the feeling down, you continued, “How was your walk? Are you going to start getting ready soon?”

The mood in the room changed as you took in your fiancé’s appearance. Five’s eyes stared blankly into the distance as he stood in the doorway, and you noticed that he was fidgeting with his fingers at his side, his right index finger and thumb rubbing together in small, quick circles. Slowly you stood up and made your way over to him; often he retreated into himself, and you had become familiar with the process of coaxing him back into the real world. Throwing your arms around him, you placed a gentle kiss over his furrowed brow, feeling him relax ever so slightly under your touch. When you began to pull away, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him once more, and shyly returned the gesture. You closed your eyes as you felt his lips against your brow, his eyelashes fluttering against your forehead. He led you both to sit on the bed, and looking up, you saw him searching for the right words to say.

Just when you were about to take the lead (as you usually did with emotional conversations) Five tightened his grip on your hand, and with his gaze focused on your intertwined fingers, he quietly said:

“I’m scared.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Although you wanted to say that this was the last thing you expected, you were feeling the same sense of apprehension and disbelief yourself. Commitment, hope, selfishness..all of them hallmarks of the decision you were walking into today, and none of them compatible with the life you both had known. Dipping your head down in an attempt to meet his gaze, you squeezed his hands back, encouraging him to continue.

“I know it sounds stupid to say, but I’m...I’m broken. I’ve lost a lot, and I’ve taken a lot from others. I’m a bad person. And you know what? So is most everyone. The world sucks, Y/n. I wish I didn’t know it, but I do and it does.” Five was shaking now. “I have seen the world destroy itself more times than I can count, I have seen the people I love die, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” Faltering now, his voice cracked, heavy with emotion. “The only light in -in all of this- is you. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.” When he had finished his outburst, Five’s fidgeting fingers stilled in your hands. His chest heaving, he looked up at you delicately, guarded in the wake of his confession.

Taking a deep breath, you responded: “I’m scared too. But you know what? I’m done being scared, we’ve been scared for too long. I know you, Five, and I know that you’ve seen things no one should have to see. But please, don’t feel like you’re not enough. If you’re broken, I’m broken too, and maybe we can just be a little bit broken together. Screw the world! ” you chuckled. “I don’t need it. I just need you.”

Five’s eyes grew wide as they met yours, and you noticed with endearment that he shivered at your words.

After a heavy pause he climbed quickly on top of you, pinning your arm against the bed with his left hand as his right gripped your waist tightly. He kissed you, hard, putting the emphasis of every unspoken promise into the action. You were on fire, melting into his touch, burning with his heat. In the conscious part of your mind, you remarked humorously: He always was a man of action. Tongues dancing, fingers like matches, he raked his hands up and down your sides. He held you like he had nothing and everything to lose. When you finally came up for air, he began gently nibbling the space above your collarbone, then all at once he kissed the spot passionately, working diligently with his tongue. All you could do was sigh. When he broke away, you were both breathing hard. You shifted, and sat up to straddle him as he leaned against the headboard. You began to run your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp and playing with the short pieces of hair that curled around the nape of his neck. Eyes shut, he leaned into your touch, his soft, small breaths the only sound in the room. Without warning, you kissed him with everything you had, fiercely, lovingly. He eagerly matched your pace, a whine leaving his throat. You continued on, until you both were laying in a tangled heap on the bed; Five was curled into you, drawing shapeless figures on the space where your shirt had ridden up around your waist.

“Y/n?” he called, breaking the comfortable silence. You looked up at him and softly smiled, answering, “Yes love?”

A determined look came over him. “I just realized, I don’t need anything else. No matter how many times I’ve tried to save the world, I just decided that I don’t want it anymore. When I look at you, I mean really look at you…” His eyes softened, “It all just falls away. And I think I like it that way.”

Placing a gentle kiss against his chest, you beamed.

“I like it too.”

After a beat, Five looked over at you suddenly and huffed humorously. “Wait, isn’t it bad luck to see your bride on your wedding day?”

“I don’t care,” you mumbled into his side with a chuckle.

He smirked and nudged you with his shoulder. “You know what? Me neither.”

#five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fanfic #number five imagine #umbrella academy #tua fanfiction #five hargreeves fluff #five x reader fluff #soft five #someone play with this boy's hair #dear evan hansen

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yerrrabitch · 3 years

Text

WKND

Your eyelashes softly brushed your cheeks as you woke up. Your dark eyes scanned across his room. His scent suffocated you and kissed every inch of your body. His body lay tangled with yours. Your head was tucked between his arm and chest as he took deep, calm breaths. You relished in the feeling of him. These were some of your favorite moments.

When life could slow down for just a second and you could truly appreciate the man under you.

Friday Night 7:34PM

You kicked off your heels beside your door and wiped your sweat on the back of your hand. Another hellish day at work. You hated working and wished that you could take his money. But, you didn’t feel comfortable taking away from him to please you. He hated seeing you like this. He loved pampering you in anyway he could. You chuckled at the thought of the argument your current state would cause. You worked as an assistant to a lawyer who made you work unbearable hours and didn’t give a damn about any of your personal needs. He was an asshole but, the position paid well and you rubbed elbows with major figures in the field you wanted to go into after college.

You washed your hands and took your hair out of it’s bun. You couldn't wait to take this lace off for the weekend and let your hair out. Conforming to corporate America was another one of your least favorite things you did to get where you wanted to be. He didn’t agree with that. Well, he didn’t understand. He had worked through college growing his locs as a computer science major and now owns several businesses while only being two years out. He had established a name for himself; you had not. He offered many times to get an internship or position with one of his personal lawyers but, you wanted to get your connections and establish yourself by yourself. He had a love/hate relationship with your independence. It initially drew him to you when you first met.

You needed to make a quick snack before showering and heading over to his place for the rest of the weekend. You broke away from the apples and peanut butter to turn on Ari Lennox and unwind in the shower after realizing it was far later than you realized and he was probably worried sick about you. You showered, put in a hair mask and began to shave while dancing to her rhythmic voice when a hand grabbed your waist. You shot right into farthest part of the shower and let out an animalistic scream.

You closed your eyes as tight as possible and waited on the assault.

Giggles.

From him.

You wiped a curl out of your face and stared up at him. He was hunched over laughing at you like he was supposed to show up unannounced and scare you half to death.

“Baby,” he started before falling into another fit of giggles, “I came to check on you and here you are, dancing like that when you could be dancing with me upstairs.”

“I need to explain alone time?” You sneered, you were agitated. Why would he do that? He could’ve waited for you to step out of the bathroom at least. You could have fallen and gotten seriously hurt and he was laughing like that was just so funny. The things you would do to keep that smile on his face though.

“You know I didn't mean to intrude on your alone time. I was just seeing where you were. It’s 8:30?” He said still looking at you. The way your curls and coils were pulled into lopsided twists around your face, your nose scrunched up in irritation and dragged your plump upper lip and high cheekbones along with it made his heart whine at the two foot distance between you two. “I’ll wait on the couch for you, then we can go up together?”

You nodded and moved back into the water to finish what you were doing while a soft smile graced your face as you thought of him.

You crossed the hall and applied all the necessary body butters and creams then waddled out to see him. You rolled over the back of the couch and on to his side.

“Hey.”

He smiles up at you and places a soft kiss on your cheek. He begins peppering them all across your face and across your neck. You begin laughing when he bites on to a ticklish part of your clavicle. You place your hands at the nape of his neck and pull his head back.

“Did you cook?” You asked looking at his beard. You loved the way it felt when it grazed your thighs but, you hated the scruff he had began to grow during quarantine. He loved it though. Anything to differentiate him from his youth.

“Don’t you wanna order in? There’s this new Thai place on the North side. I had some for lunch last week and almost nutted,” he said staring into your eyes while tracing the curve of your jaw, “we can eat that.”

You nodded and began to get off of him and grab your slippers to go to his place. He lived five floors above you. His penthouse was amazing. It had a great view, a private elevator and this kitchen that you loved to cook in. Sometimes after an exam you both would stay up trying new recipes to get your minds off the stress. You loved cooking with him and were a little disappointed at the loss of bonding time. You knew he'd make up for it though.

“We should order it soon, you know everything out here closes early as hell.” You replied as you locked your apartment up and grabbed his hand to walk to his elevator. While waiting for it to rise from the lobby you stared at both of your figures in the reflection. His massive body next to yours, you looked like a child. A curvy child, but still a child. The hand wrapped around the phone as he orders food looks bigger than your waist. His large torso compared to your average sized one. He towered at 6′6 and you lived at 5′8. You were taller than most but, he humbled you whenever you tried to act bigger than him. Your wide hips were the only thing on you bigger than him. He would argue that your head is bigger than anything in the room.

You were busy comparing your body to his when he guided you into the shaft with a hand on your lower back. You thanked him and stepped inside. You felt his hand moving to cup just beneath your bottom. He gave two taps to your butt and opened his other arm, signaling you to jump on his waist. You rolled your eye but, still complied and let him carry you the rest of the way. The elevator dinged and he began to move. His breathe was warm against your cool scalp. And his body warm against yours. You loved him carrying you almost as much as he did. He loved taking care of you and anyway that you would allow him to gave him joy.

You had decorated the entrance of his penthouse. Initially it had been bare but, you added a mirror, a welcome mat and a tall plant that required almost no care so he couldn’t kill it by forgetting it. But, he would never let anything you gave him die. He walked up the stairs and into his bedroom. He turned around and sat down on the bed with you still attached to him and then laid back. You rolled over and began to remove the pillows from the bed. When you first met him he only used one pillow and now he can’t sleep with out at least three on the bed or you. You patted the spot next to you and almost squealed when he settled in next to you. You loved cuddling. He loved it too, only with you though. In previous relationships, it’d irritate him and make him overheat but, with your cooler body temperature and lovable personality he couldn’t resist. You rubbed up and down his side while he rubbed circles on your butt. You pushed your lips up at your nose. His eyes flashed to them and he immediately captured them with his own. He had a special way of kissing you. It never took your breath away. It was like it was your breath. You could kiss him for hours and only need to stop to fulfill bodily functions. Your lips fit perfectly together. You felt his bottom row gently dig into your top lip as his hand drifted from your ass to your right breast. His hot tongue slips into your mouth and you attach on to it and begin sucking it. His mouth retracts slightly as he smiles at you. Clearly, he doesn’t like you having too much control as he takes your nipple in his hand and twists it. You gasp and he takes that as his chance to do what he wants with you. He keeps kissing you and pulls away to begin kissing down your neck. You feel your lower belly getting warm and you try to pull his hand from your breast and place it in between your thighs. You hadn't had your fill all week and you wanted him right now. He snatches his hand away from you and doesn’t even look up at you.

“I’m taking my time tonight, so you just gone have to wait my love.” He said in between open mouthed kisses on your chest. You loved when he showered you with affection like this but, there was a time and place for everything and this was neither. You wanted to fill him shoot into the depths of you then carry you into the bathtub so you both could scrub the sins away then slide back into bed and go to sleep. You were tired and you’d rather use your vibrator and come back after you came at least once.

“Baby, I’ve been waiting all week.” You whispered looking down at him.

“Who’s fault is that?” He asked, finally reaching your nipples. “Not mine, if I could’ve had you every night I would have. I would’ve had you in the morning too. Before work. At lunch. Before dinner. For dessert. But, you had to work right mamas?” He plopped your nipple in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around your ring and lightly nibbling on the sensitive flesh in-between the metal. You were enjoying his assault on his body and accidentally ignored his question.

He bit down. Hard.

“I asked you a question didn’t I?” He said staring up at you. You nodded eagerly.

“Words.” He said with a lot more bass in his voice.

“Yes.” He smiled up at you. You were wet and you knew that he wasn’t going to let you come once tonight after that. He’d just edge you for the rest of the night and hopefully let you cum tomorrow. He moved to the next nipple and used his fingers to give the other nipple to attention she deserved.

He loved playing with the fattier parts of your body. One day in the earlier days of your relationship you had told him about your insecurities and he made it his duty to show extra affection to them whenever possible. He moved down to your belly and began kissing all around it and sucking your flesh in between. He pulls back up to you and places a gentle kiss on your lips and smiles.

“I love you.”

He pulls your shirt back down and pulls your body tightly against him. You feel him throbbing against your thigh as you sit on his lap. He grabbed your left foot and began to massage the heels of your feet, slowly working up to your toes and moving back down methodically. You wanted to enjoy pleasing him and vice versa but, you knew tonight was really going to be affection rather than sex. You craved an orgasm but you also needed intimacy. You loved how he knew where to find a balance in your needs and desire them.

Saturday Morning 9:50AM

The Thai place was amazing. You could see yourself sneaking there during lunch breaks for the dishes. You both had finished off two bottles of wine and sat snuggled up on the couch watching Living Single re runs. He laid on your chest between your thighs as you both fought sleep. He smelled of deep amber and vanilla. A cologne that you mentioned loving years ago and he made a point to wear around you.

You looked at the man next to you. You gently disconnected yourself from him and crawl beneath the sheets. You pull his member from his boxers and spit on it. You feel his body shift, he’s waking up. You lick up the under side of the shaft and attach your lips to the top. You extend your tongue outside of your lips and begin pulling in and out of your mouth. A deep chuckle breaks your concentration.

“You love this dick don’t you?” He mused. You nodded “Couldn’t wait for me to wake up?”

You continued your assault by forcing the entirety of his length into your throat. You always struggled through this part but you never stopped trying. You gagged on it and kept pushing. You were confident that you wouldn’t vomit but you needed to taste his nut. You repeated the process, sucking the tip then taking it all down your throat. You loved the feeling of his breath becoming quicker and his hand pulling your bonnet off and grasping your twists in both of his hands. His hips kept bucking up at you until you felt warm ropes begin to paint your throat. You loved this taste. The feeling of his balls constricting on your cheeks. The way his happy trail tickled your nose. The way his thighs felt so strong against your finger tips. His firm grip on your hair. It all made you want him more. You kept sucking after he had finished until his body began to twitch again. It was only right to overstimulate him how he had done you so many times before.

You lifted off of him and hurried to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You knew once he gained his strength back he would return the favor a few times over. He padded in behind you and began running the water in the bathtub. You smiled softly and went to the kitchen. You cut up apples, oranges and put grapes into a bowl and met him in the bathroom. He had grabbed towels and began to strip. Staring at your gown, he points and the tub. You comply and bring the bowl with you.

“Eat mama.” He commands and begins kissing up and down your neck. His hands go beneath the water and find your folds. He grazes across your clit and down to your opening. His right hand rises to your breast and he palms it lightly. He grasps your clit between two fingers and rolls it between them. Your breath hitches.

“Please, Erik.” You breathe. You feel him smile behind you.

“Please, what baby?”

“Please fuck me.”

His laugh shakes your chest as he puts a singular finger inside of you. He knew that he needed to work you up to his size. After a week away from him, you always shrunk to a coin slot. He curved his hand around to place one hand on your clit while still fingering you. You move the bowl to the ridge of the tub as you feel yourself getting closer to a climax. He adds another finger in. Initially it is uncomfortable but as he keeps rubbing your clit your loosen up around him. You pant as you feel your end close to you. He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you and turns the shower on behind both of you. He pulls you up carefully after moving the bowl to the floor near the tub. He lifts you up by your waist and slowly guides your onto his dick. He stretches you immediately and you feel like you might split open. It hurt but still felt so good.

After waiting for you to nod at him, he began pumping in and out of you. Slowly at first then he picked up speed. He backed you into the wall and moved one of his arms from around you on to your clit and began rubbing. The hot coil in your belly began to tighten and you knew your orgasm was coming quickly. He looked so focused on getting your nut, he was barely worried about his. You begin coating him in a thick, white cream as your body is almost to your peak. Your moans begin to fill the bathroom as he hit your g spot. You finished and you felt yourself squirting on him. He loved that. He loved drinking it more than watching it though.

He immediately followed behind you and filled you up with his cum. The warm water hit both of your side as your legs dropped and he laid his forehead against yours. He lightly kissed you then pulled out of you. You felt cold now without him inside of you. He reached for your body wash and you reached for his. Every time you had shower sex, you both would wash each others body’s.

Regardless of all the shit you go through during the week. This makes it worth it. Orgasms before noon and endless support and love from a man you love.

#erik kilmonger x reader #erik killmonger #erik stevens college au #erik x reader #Erik Stevens #erik stevens x reader #black woman imagine #black panther

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shadow--writer · 3 years

Note

So I’m writing a fic with some nice, wholesome Julian head scratchings in it because I reckon he would enjoy having his head scratched and I will make that man feel treasured whether he likes it or not. Got me thinking, I bet Volta would also love affectionate head scratches because she is a very good girl, yes she is. Anywho, what are your thoughts on the main 6 (+ courtiers, Morga, anyone you fancy) and how they feel about head scratches/ head rubs (from someone they’re comfortable with)?

Head scratches you say 👀👀👀👀. I don’t write for any of the courtiers or Morga, but I hope you like this very soft domestic main six!! But I agree Volta is very good. 10/10.

I have to admit I was rather relaxed writing these, head scratches are the best

And yes I am jealous again, scratches are the bomb.com.

Hope you enjoy!!

Main six x MC head scratches/head rubs

~~~~

Julian

Ah! You’re relaxing on your shared bed, just reading when he crawls into your lap

He’s tired from working too hard for too long without sleep poor poor doctor Devorak

Head scratches and pats only happen when he’s like this, tired and almost asleep

He’s not quite used to them but he does love them

Just doesn’t know how to ask

While reading you run your hand through his hair, making him sigh

Once you bring fingernails into the equation he is putty in your hands, leaning into your touch

Hearing his little sighs and thinking he’s asleep you stop

He cracks one eye open, a little miffed

“Don’t stop now my love. Keep going please.” (Voice rough with sleep imagine it)

Teasing him a little you oblige

He loves head scratches. When you pull on his hair gently mmm the good stuff right there

Scratch his scalp, tug his hair lightly, untangle his curls

If he’s not already asleep he’ll sing to you. Just softly, voice thick with the promise of sleep

He’ll fall asleep and be out for a long time, just resting in your lap while you run your hands through his hair

It’s very domestic, and it’s one of is favourite things in the whole world

It’s calming and some of the best sleep he ever gets

He’ll kiss your finger tips and sometimes if you are in his lap he’ll run his hands through your hair too

He lives for head scratches

Especially from you, he trusts you wholeheartedly not to hurt him

Asra

He’ll straight up just ask you for head scratches, he loves them so much

He’ll lie down in your lap, you both resting on pillows and plush blankets

He’s very warm too, hair all fluffy and curly

Faust will curl up and sleep on his chest while you run your hands through his hair

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Please use your nails, rub circles on his scalp, detangle his hair with a touch, just scratch gently at his scalp

His hair is so freaking fluffy it’s like running your hands through a soft stuffed animal’s fur

He will fall asleep with you scratching his head (most of the main six will, it’s quite relaxing)

He’ll spark little magic shows for you, just little shows of light and smells

Sometimes after having a rough day he just wants to lay in your lap and talk to you while you run his head

Fluff his hair up more. Please

He might even make a noise that sounds strangely like purring

He’ll deny it but you know what you heard

He’ll tell you stories from his trip while slowly...falling...asleep...

He can’t help it he’s never been more relaxed then he is here like this with you

He’ll yawn every few seconds while talking before snuggling into your thighs

He snores softly, but don’t stop the head scratches

Stop when his hair is all mused and soft and detangled

You’ll probably fall asleep, you, Asra and Faust all snuggled together

It’s the best sleep you’ll ever get, fully relaxed

He’ll return the favour eventually, don’t worry.

Nadia

Her head aches from her hair being pulled up for so long

Take her hair out of the ponytail and slowly run your hands through it

If she’s talking to you she’ll stop mid sentence to let out a little sigh as you run your hands through her hair and scratch her scalp gently

She probably had a long day of countessing

She’ll wrap blankets around the two of you as you work your magic

Warm your hands a little bit as you scratch her scalp

She’ll be out like a light if you two aren’t talking

Her hair is very soft and silky

And it’s long too, making your job both harder and longer

You don’t mind though, getting her as relaxed as she is is a tough feat

Please please please tease her hair

Fluff it up, make she she wakes up with hair that seems to poof off her scalp

It’ll make her laugh

She’ll love it

Please don’t forget the bottom half of her hair though

Tug on the tips lightly to make her arch her head into the touch

She’ll tell you little stories from her old home and about her sisters

Oh the back of her head is a golden spot

You might need to maneuver to get it but don’t worry

The results are worth it

She’ll let out a little gasp, sinking into your touch

Run your hands up and down, dragging your nails gently along her scalp

Has she mentioned how much she loves you?

Because prepare yourself, she’s gonna say it a lot

Muriel

This man has never had a head scratch in his entire life and that is a travesty

Lie him down, shoulders and head agains your stomach and thighs

Just enough that he’s on your lap but he’s not too on your lap to worry himself about crushing you

His hair is very smooth but super soft

After you’re done with it though, it will be just as soft and fluffy as Asra’s

Inanna will lie down on Muriel’s legs, her tail beating against the ground as she watched Muriel relax into your touch

Gently scratch his scalp, use your fingertips more than your nails

He’ll let out small content grunts and sighs as you work

He likes his hairline scratched the most

That way he can see you a bit better, and you can pull his hair back from his face with gentle caresses

Tug gently on the hair that normally covers his face

Detangle it with your fingers too, running them up and down through his hair

Don’t forget the top of his head though

Massage your hands through his scalp, rubbing circles with your fingertips

Scratch the back of his head and tug lightly at the hair there, make sure to untangle those rough knots

He’ll fall asleep soon unless you’re talking

But he’s so relaxed he’ll start up a conversation

Maybe talking about what the girls got into and their adventures

Inanna is now asleep on his legs, him running a hand through her fur

You all are just this nice little family, relaxing in the quietness of his hut

This is the most loved he’s ever felt

Portia

Portia is also a very busy baby who doesn’t spend too much time on herself or poor hair

By the end of the week her hair is so knotted and rough it’ll take hours to brush it all out

Luckily she has a very cute and kind apprentice helping her out

She’s very talkative, ask her about her day while the two of you relax on her pillow mound with her in you lap

Start at the base of her hair and work your way up

It’s very knotted and if you start at her scalp it will hurt a lot

Slowly brush your fingers through her hair, tug lightly and pull apart as needed

Once you reach her scalp, all conversation will be cut short

Wow you’re very good with your hands

Like really good wow

Lift up her hair a bit while you scratch at the bat of her scalp, working your way up

She will melt into your touch with a little sigh

“MC those hands of yours are magic.”

Pull on her bangs gently while you rub at her hairline

Take your nail and lightly run circles around her scalp

Her hair will slowly decurl while you work, each tangle you get rid of map going to make her hair so much softer

She’s very soft and smooth hair, and once her tangles are gone you get to bask in how soft her hair is

She love love loves headscratches and she’ll do the same to you if you ever ask

Lucio

Okay so Lucio isn’t really the type to get so close to someone in an intimate setting like this

He’s always worried he’s going to do something to mess this up or maybe it’s a plot to kill him

Hey it happened once you never know

If he’s very comfortable with you he’ll let you take his golden arm off, I know this is about head scratch’s but make sure to rub his arm gently too once you take the golden arm off

His hair is not soft at all

So much hair products and gel

Start at his hairline, brushing his bangs down over his eyes

He’ll be running that mouth of his you know he will

He’ll be talking about his day, asking about yours, telling stories all sorts of things

He’ll let out a very rough sigh when you scratch his scalp and the back of his head

Keep that up. Keep doing that yes

He doesn’t let anyone get close to his head

But now he has that tinge of regret because he loves head scratches so freaking much wow

Fluff up his hair

Your hands are going to smell like hair products after this

They are gonna smell terrible but you don’t mind

Seeing Lucio this relaxed and sleepy is totally worth it

He’ll babble on but his words will slowly...become...slurred...as...he grows...sleepy

He snores

He denies it but he snores

But you’re glad he fell asleep, it means he trusts you. Trusts you to take his arm off, trusts you with his hair and head, and trusts you enough to fall asleep

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #julian devorak #lucio morgasson #nadia satrivana #asra alnazar #muriel #portia devork #muriel headcanons #julian headcanons #lucio headcanons #asra headcanons #nadia headcanons #portia headcanons #mc x main six #arcana apprentice #head scratches #headcanons

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alinastracker · 3 years

Text

malina week day 5 — free choice

false saint

a smutty one-shot inspired by taylor swift’s “false god” (ao3)

Alina Starkov had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

ruin and rising spoilers!

For the first time since they opened Keramzin up to Ravka’s orphaned children six months ago, the halls were quiet. Gone were the sounds of running feet and squealing laughter. Even though they only had four children, not including Misha, currently staying at the orphanage, happy children were often loud children, and it was the young couple’s top priority that the kids they took in were happy — as happy as any child who’s lost everything could be.

The quiet was oddly startling, even though Alina knew that the children were perfectly fine, out on a trip into town with their teacher, Karine, and the orphanage’s gruff cook, Stasia.

“Children should learn about their food early,” the woman had insisted, and so the little field trip into town had been planned. Karine went with, partly because five children were a handful for one woman, and partly because some of the children were still rather intimidated by Stasia.

The children were safe, and Alina was enjoying the quiet. But every now and then, caught off guard by the stillness, came a flicker of panic, and she had to remind herself once more. The children are safe. The Darkling is dead.

And though the home was quiet, she was not alone.

Alina pressed her forehead against one of the full length windows of the upstairs reading nook. They had wanted this room to be comfy and bright, and the large windows that faced the back of the property certainly assured that. She could see Mal down there, tending to the garden, his hands deep inside of the dirt. For a moment, she let all of her worries float away and pictured his fingers deep inside of her instead. She had to squeeze her thighs together as heat rushed to her center, demanding friction.

The sun was shining brightly through the window, and so she angled herself to stand fully in its rays. Alina brought her hand up, letting her fingers play in the light, forcing her sinful thoughts away. She couldn’t say how long she stayed that way, lost in her longing, but it was long enough that Mal had finished in the garden and had come to sneak up behind her.

“Playing with the light again?” he murmured as his arms wrapped around her.

Alina nodded, leaning back against his chest.

Mal pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

It was what they always asked each other when they got into these moods, when she became entranced with the sunlight, and he found himself stuck silent and still in the woods. Sometimes the longing hurt, and sometimes it was just the pull to be in the element again — welcoming an old friend, rather than feeling the hole left in its absence.

“I was just thinking that I miss the feeling sometimes,” Alina sighed. “When I summoned, it was like every inch of my skin was brushed with the softest warmth. I can feel something close to it sometimes, standing in the light like this. Just not as . . . wholly.”

Mal was quiet for a moment, and she knew if she looked over her shoulder, she’d find the small pinch between his brows that indicated he was thinking. She knew the exact moment when his mind had come to a conclusion, feeling the way his body relaxed.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, angling himself so his lips just brushed her ear as his hands moved to grip her hips, “it would help if the sun could hit every inch of you.”

Desire returned thick between her thighs, if it had ever truly gone away. “What are you implying?”

“I think you know.”

He was right, she knew exactly what he meant. But they were out in the open, standing right in front of a window. The children were gone, though. The staff, too. There would always be the chance that someone came stumbling into their backyard and looked up, but maybe the risk made it all the better.

She had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

She took one slow, steady breath, channeling her confidence.

“Then undress me, Malyen.”

Mal tensed for a singular breath, then brought his hands around her again, feeling his way up her chest until his fingers found the first button of her shirt. He took his time undoing each one, letting their skin brush each time more of her was bared. When he had the last button undone, the shirt was tossed lazily away. Mal’s hands continued their journey down her body, though her skirt took considerably less time to remove.

Standing in nothing but her under clothes, Alina closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling of the sunlight brushing new parts of her. She thought for a moment that Mal might stop here. It could be enough, even if she still craved more.

But he didn’t stop.

Mal hooked his fingers into the band of her underwear, and when she didn’t object, tugged them down. Alina stepped carefully out of the fabric, brushing it away with her foot. His fingers crawled up her backside then, and a moment later, her bra fell to the floor, letting the light consume her whole.

Alina let her head fall back against Mal’s shoulder, bringing her hands up just as she used to when using her power. It wasn’t quite the same warmth that summoning had brought her, but it was something.

Mal pressed his lips to the side of her neck and whispered, “Sankta.”

Encompassed in the light, she almost felt like one. Mal had always had blind faith in her, had died for her. But saints had to prove they were worth the title.

Alina turned, meeting his eyes. Mal could’ve sworn some of the light had stayed twinkling in her brown orbs.

“Let me give you something to worship,” she said, and dropped to her knees.

Mal sucked in a sharp breath, but made no move to stop her as she worked to undo his trousers, dragging them down. His underwear came next, his half-hard cock happy to spring free.

“You don’t have to—” he started. Alina shushed him. She spit into her hand — rather unceremonious for a saint, but alas — and gripped him. Any lingering words of Mal’s fell to the wayside as he moaned.

It took very little time for him to harden fully with her stroking him. Still, she waited until he couldn’t possibly throb more for her, his cock hard as steel and bulging, before she brought him to her lips and sucked the tip of him into her mouth.

Mal cursed fervently, his hand forming a fist in the tangles of her silky, pale hair.

Alina swirled her tongue around him, dipping into the place where his desire gathered for her, only encouraged by his curses and the almost painful pull on her scalp. His words were like a prayer, and he only got louder as she took in more of him, swallowing him down her throat even as her body protested.

She still didn’t know if his size was a blessing or a curse.

Mal was on the edge from the sight of her alone, those pretty lips he had spent years dreaming about perfectly parted around his cock. He saw the tears in her eyes, though, and so he began to pull back, only for Alina to grip his ass, nails digging into the skin of his backside. Let me, her eyes said, determined. And fuck if it didn’t make his hips thrust against her mouth.

“Alina,” he moaned.

Her response was a brief, but not gentle, scrape of her teeth against him. Mal hissed, but he didn’t need to look at her to know where he had gone wrong

“Sankta,” he moaned instead, and it felt right.

Even if she was a false saint, their love — and everything that came with it — was like their own personal religion, blind and eternal. Though the moan that ripped from Mal’s throat as his release hit was anything but holy.

And this was what Alina had wanted more than anything — to bring him to the edge and push him over. It was a different kind of power, and she let the evidence of it dribble down her chin, droplets landing on her breasts and chest. Different than the blood a saint usually ended up covered in. Different, and much better.

When she finished milking his release out of him, Alina stood. Backlit by the sun, she looked as saintly as she ever had. Mal licked his lips as he greedily took in the sight of her. She had, undoubtedly, given him something to worship.

As any righteous man of faith would do before his saint, Mal dropped to his knees. It was not the first time Alina had driven men to kneel before her, and it would not be the last.

“Sankta Alina,” he whispered, bringing his lips to the altar between her thighs, his tongue forming a prayer that felt better than Alina thought possible.

But it wasn’t just a prayer, it was a whole sermon — every lick, suck, and plunge a promise of his allegiance. He had her mewling and trembling above him in minutes, barely able to keep herself standing as he pushed her past her limits. And she thought, as he rose with his lips glistening from her cunt, that service was over. But Mal only turned her over and pressed her naked body against the window. The glass chilled her bare skin even as the sunlight warmed it.

Mal had his lips at her ear again. “I’m not done worshipping you yet,” he murmured, and smoothly thrust his hard-again cock inside of her.

If anyone walked by outside or came into the reading nook, there would be no hiding their heavenly sinful act. To her surprise, Alina found the slightest thrill at a stranger discovering such a display. And as Mal fucked her with relentless devotion, she sent a prayer to the true saints that the glass held true.

This time, they jumped over the edge together, in the way that only the faithful could. Screams on their lips, sweat dripping down their necks, pleasure so intense that it could only be called a religious experience.

After, Mal scooped her into his arms and brought them to their room. He sat Alina on the bed, leaving briefly to gather wet rags for them. With a gentleness quite opposite from their frantic fucking, Mal cleaned the spend from her body, then his own, before taking the spot beside her, curling his body around hers.

Though she may be a false saint, Alina could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin as the peaceful call of sleep pulled her under, a smile on her face.

#malinaweek #malina #writing #fanfic #malina fanfic #and when i say smutty i mean SMUTTY THIS IS PURE SMUT OK?#anyway happy last day of malina week this has truly been the best #ruin and rising spoilers #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #also realize i could've done this for song day but this came to me like last night ok

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milk-carton-whump · 3 years

Text

Lowkey a passion project just cuz I was really inspired to write about Fido. This is set like a month into living with Mister Patton. Also, I feel like I missed some warning but none too bad I think...

Tagging: @sideblogformindtrash @tears-and-lilies @unicornscotty @cowboy-anon @abitefullofwhump @oswaldinator3000

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, conditioning, cold whump, hair pulling, muzzle, choking, collar, noose mention, hair cutting, intentional disobedience, begging, dehumanizing language, defiant whumpee, forcibly stripped (non sexual), non con touching (non sexual), manhandling

The Groomer

Fido glared up at his owner, he hated the car rides. Forced to sit on the floor like an animal, like a mangy mutt. Even worse he had been muzzled, they were going somewhere that required he didn't bite.

Mister Patton's hand combed through his knotted red hair, the tug making him wince in pain as it pulled at his scalp. He growled, teeth barred and full of hatred toward the man.

"Lighten up puppy, you're going to the groomer today. Isn't that exciting?" Mister Patton stated as he gripped a fistful of his pet's hair.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a fucking dog!?" Fido snarled.

A sharp tug to his hair shut him up, if only momentarily. He hated how the man so casually and so freely just grabbed and touched his hair, it was overgrown and his so called owner barely brushed it. Of course, aside from running his fingers through it, leaving his hair still tangled and knotted.

The car came to a halt around twenty minutes later, his heart dropping into his stomach with worry. He masked it well but knew that Mister Patton could feel his trembling against his leg. The car door opened and he was dragged out by his choke chain as his owner climbed out of the car.

He fell to his knees onto the brick driveway, forcing a pained gasp through his teeth as he landed on his bruised knees. He moved to stand up, to gain some form of dignity back, but was quickly kicked back down onto all fours.

"Fido, you know puppies don't stand on two legs. Now, come on, we're going to be late for your appointment." A sharp tug on his leash, momentarily choking him as the chain cinched closed around his throat.

His attempts at arguing were ignored as he crawled on his hands and knees after Mister Patton, just trying to keep the leash slack enough so he could breathe. It was one of the rare times he actually thanked whatever powers that be that his owner required the leather mitts on his hands, easily keeping his hands from getting scraped up.

He crawled after his owner, following him to the front desk and sitting back on his heels. He watched the interaction from the floor as Mister Patton spoke to the receptionist. He growled, seething over the fact that he was here, muzzled, and humiliated. An annoyed glare followed the man's every move as he spoke, each gesture noted while Fido tried to wrap his mitted hands around the leash.

A quick yank to the leash forced a choked gasp from the pet's throat. Fido looked up to see that the leash wasn't in Mister Patton's hands anymore but instead in the hands of a woman with dark hair that was pulled back into a bun. He dug his knees into the smooth linoleum floor, trying to halt any progress of being pulled around like a dog.

"Fucking let go of me!" Fido snapped, anger dripping from his voice.

He was dragged, his throat being closed off most of the time until they managed to get him into a room with a bathtub. He looked at it and shook his head quickly, a bathtub meant they would strip him down to nothing but his collars.

He tried to pull away, pushing himself up onto his feet and tripping as he did. His legs wobbly and weak from disuse, yet still desperate to get away. Unfortunately, he collapsed to the floor, legs folding under his body.

The groomer grabbed him by the hair, a harsh pull that almost convinced him that his hair was being ripped out. He looked her in the eyes, in pain but forcing a scowl.

"Your scary dog act doesn't work, now stay." Her voice commanded, sending a shiver down his spine.

Before he knew it, his clothes were gone, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to anything she may decide to do. His eyes watched her carefully, followed the direction her hand pointed finding a bathtub full of water at the end. He hesitated nervously, afraid of the possible ways he could be violated in that tub.

The water was frigidly cold, soaking through his skin and to the bone, the water rippling around him as he shivered. He looked up at the groomer, his muzzle gone but a leash still tightly pulling at his chain collar replaced the need.

"C-can-nt-t-t I have warm-m-me-mer wat-ter-er, pl-lea-lease?" Fido stammered out, his teeth chattering loudly with each word.

"Only good puppies get warm water and you've proven that you like to misbehave. Be good this time and I'll give you a warmer bath next time." She said in an overly sweet and condescending tone.

He continued to shiver as she washed his hair, scrubbing at his skin with a scouring pad and making the entire bath miserable. By the time he was allowed out of the tub, his body was red and irritated and he couldn't stop shaking.

He was rubbed down with a towel, careless of his now sensitive skin. A miserable whine escaped his lips as he followed the groomer to spot on the floor where the eerie sight of what looked like a noose greeted him.

He just stared at it, comfortable with the fate he expected to come with it. To his surprise he was only asked to kneel and the noose was loosely hung around his neck, keeping his chin tipped up.

The groomer sat down on a rolling stool and picked up scissors off her table to begin cutting his hair. He could feel the blades of her scissors cutting his long shaggy hair, bringing it close to his head. Short strands of hair fell on his nose, tickling it and making him scrunch his face to get it off. He told himself that all of this was humiliating, the way they treated him, spoke to him and even acted around him.

He had an annoyed scowl on his face as the groomer tipped his chin up more to shape a tuft of hair she kept long right on top. Finally she reached over, set the scissors down and picked up a hair dryer. The warm air felt nice against his still shivering body, but all too soon it was gone.

Before he knew what was happening, his tank top, jeans, and leather mitts had been quickly put back on his body. His clothes offered little warmth as he was taken back to Mister Patton. Crawling shamefully behind the groomer until he forced his body to stop moving upon seeing his owner. A hard tug to his leash cinched his chain tighter, choking him as he fought being dragged toward the man.

Mister Patton eagerly grabbed the leash, reaching down to caress his dog's face. He was surprised to find that Fido leaned into his touch, seeking the bit of warmth his hand provided. He paid for the service happy to have his pet crave his affection if even temporarily, it only served to make him more excited to fully train the dog.

Once in the car, the air conditioning was turned on, sending Fido's already cold body back to shivering terribly. He graciously took up his spot on the floor, pressing himself tightly to Mister Patton's legs. They offered the warmth he so desperately desired, a hand combing through his now short hair. "That's a good boy, Fido. Such a good boy." His owner praised, putting his warm hands on the pet's cold cheeks.

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weeb-stomper · 3 years

Text

Bakugou KatsukixFem!Reader - Desk Work

Word Count: 2,170

~Hello~

*In surprised old man voice* “It’s been 57 years.....”

No seriously, sorry for not posting in so long! Art block is a bitch :( But I’m back! I have something in the works that’s taking way longer than I thought it would, so I busted this out over the last few days just to get things goin again on the ol’ writing blog :) hope you enjoy, NSFW below cut

special thank you to @wootato and @kat-unzel for beta reading this so many times. Also tagging @cupcake-rogue because she went out of her way to mention something I wrote in a post the other day and she made me feel all UwU-soft :)

Tagging all my friends cause ha

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

Patrolling with Dynamight had been difficult at first. He was abrasive and stand-offish, a wolfish thirst for power kept him from having many friends and the calculated strength he brought to every fight was admittedly a bit scary. Civilians were equal-parts likely to ask for his autograph as they were to cross the street when they saw the two of you coming, with the exception of the countless women who would attempt to chat him up throughout your patrols. You couldn’t say you didn’t get it, if you were honest. He was quite attractive, and you’d passed an embarrassing amount of time wondering what those calloused fingers might feel like digging into the meat of your thighs, what that mocking sneer might taste like when it melted into your mouth…But considering the cold way he brushed off his adoring public, those fantasies remained as they were. Fantasies.

All you could say now was that if you’d had any idea how this day might turn out, you would have worn cuter underwear.

You were sat in Bakugou’s lap, your back against his chest and his feet hooked around your ankles, prying your knees open so wide your hips hurt. You wondered in passing where exactly your shorts had gone before a sharp pain at your pressure point erased your thoughts once again, the resulting moan echoing in the stale air of his office. Your jaw ached, Bakugou’s fingers stretching your mouth open so wide you thought your lips might split, his other hand pinching and tweaking your nipple underneath the stretchy material of your hero costume’s top. The taste of his sweat flooded your mouth, his rough fingers smashing your tongue against the sharp edges of your teeth and allowing drool to spill out and run down your chin. His breath was hot against your neck as he sucked another mark onto the sensitive skin just below your ear, the overwhelming scent of burnt caramel filling your nose.

“C’mon sweetheart, where’s all those stupid jokes now?” Bakugou hissed against your ear, hand dropping from your chest to rub harsh circles against your clit. “You were so fuckin annoying on patrol today, I thought for sure you’d be a good girl for me.”

A choked sob wracked your shoulders as his pace picked up, the rumble of his manic laughter reverberating through your ribs completely overwhelming your senses: Taste, smell, hearing, feeling, he was everywhere on you at once and it was just too much. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing against him, wordlessly pleading for more. Your head spun, growing more and more hazy as his ministrations continued, dragging ragged moans and whines from your lungs against your will. If he’d just let you cum once, if he could show you that kindness, you’d do anything.

Your head tilted towards the door of his office in the far corner of the room, noting with a cracked whimper that he hadn’t even bothered to lock it before he’d set on you. You felt him smile against your shoulder as his eyes followed yours, a pang of panic ringing in your head a split second before he sank two fingers inside of you. A guttural moan poured from your lips, your back bowing against him as he began working you over.

“Heh...you finally noticed? Took ya long enough, sweetheart. You’re dumber than I thought.” He chuckled, feeling you clench around his fingers at his harsh words. “You like that, huh? Then why don’t ya beg for me, sweetheart?”

A fresh torrent of drool dripped past your lips as Bakugou finally pulled his hand from your mouth, fingers still connected to your lips by a nearly-invisible strand of saliva. Swallowing back as much as you could, you worked your jaw open and closed, easing some of the built up tension there. It had been painful, but you couldn’t help but miss the taste of him. An all consuming sense of emptiness mixed into your lust clouded mind when his other hand trailed up from between your legs, and you let out a low whimper at the loss. If he kept up like this, you were sure you’d pass out. His hands settled on your hips, gently urging you off his lap and turning you to face him.

He remained slumped in the chair, a wide grin showed the now familiar sharp canines at the edges of his smile. Half lidded eyes raking down your face, trailing across the swelling marks that framed your neck on either side before skipping down to settle between your legs, heightening the feeling of your own slick rolling down your thighs, and his breathing faltered for a moment. It was humiliating, standing half naked and wrecked in front of your boss like some fucked out groupie, and your hands subconsciously drifted to the hem of your top, knotting into the elastic material as you shifted anxiously in front of him. Risking a glance, you noticed the strained tent of his pants. Even through the thick fabric of his hero costume you could tell he was big and, you realized with a surge of pride, that he wanted you. A vicious grin stretched your abused lips.

Bakugou was silent as you sank to your knees between his legs, his smirk falling as you slid your hands up his muscled thighs, looking up at him through tear spattered lashes with wide, innocent eyes as you worked his belt undone. The softness of your touch left him frozen, his head tipping back against the seat when you finally tugged down his waistband to free his cock. Flattening your tongue, you licked a long strip up the underside of him, drinking in the loud groan that slipped past his lips. Those hands you’d quickly grown addicted to twitched, moving to tangle in your hair, but you slapped them away. He growled as you continued taunting him, placing small kitten licks and sloppy kisses against his member and relishing the needy way he tried to push into your mouth whenever you strayed too close to the head.

“I don’t beg for shit.” Your voice was hoarse but confident. You were playing a dangerous game and you knew it, but seeing him all riled up from your teasing was such a power trip that you couldn’t resist.

Your stomach dropped as your eyes slid up to Bakugou’s face, meeting his gaze for the first time since before he’d closed the door. His lips were pulled back in an animalistic sneer, glaring down at you with half-lidded eyes. The furious crimson staining his cheeks did nothing to soften his expression, like it might have were this literally any other situation. A small giggle tumbled from your mouth despite the warning written plainly on his face. Ya, you’d worked him up.

Big mistake.

His hand shot into your hair, gripping tightly at the roots and guiding your head to him while the other hand held his cock steady. He shoved himself sloppily against your lips, smearing precum across your mouth and cheeks. You gasped as his hold on your hair shifted, a burning pain exploding across your scalp, and he seized the opportunity to force his way past your swollen lips and bottom out in your mouth. Tears pricked your eyes once again at the new sensation as his now-free hand shifted into your hair to maneuver your head along his length.

“Keep runnin your mouth, sweetheart.” Bakugou snarled, slamming himself against the back of your throat and making you gag against the intrusion.

He shuddered, rough hands cementing you in place against him. Your eyes widened, a reflexive wave of panic sang through your veins as the seconds stretched on, your nails digging deep into the tops of his legs and a hazy tingling the edges of your mind as the lack of oxygen made itself known. You hollowed your cheeks around him, doing your best to work your tongue against his shaft and dropping a hand between your legs to give some much-needed attention to your neglected core. The feeling was euphoric, the tension building inside you feeling more and more unbearable as Bakugou’s moans mingled with the small whimpers escaping around his cock until your shoulders were shaking. Pins and needles erupted across your skin as your orgasm crashed over you, your shoulders folding forward as you slumped against him, thighs twitching as you rolled your hips into your hand.

He tore himself from your mouth with a stuttering groan, ignoring the way you coughed and sputtered for air as he rose from his seat, pulling you onto unsteady feet. Spinning you around quickly, he planted a hand between your shoulders and shoved you down against the desk in front of you. The cool wood felt good against your heated skin and you relaxed against the surface. You clutched the edges of the fine wood for support as you indulged in your peak, savoring the lingering muscle twinges and blissed out fog still wrapping your mind. It was only when you felt something hard press against your entrance that you came to your senses, managing to slur out a ‘wait’ before he sank into you to the hilt, immediately pulling you undone again. You almost screamed, patches of white popping in your vision as he began thrusting into you wildly, writhing in painful ecstasy as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. The sound of that malicious laughter cut filled your ears once again

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me.” He groaned, planting a hard slap against your ass. “Keep making those cute little noises for me, ok?”

You were being too loud, you knew, but you couldn’t stop the salacious moans and whimpers from bubbling past your lips between mindless praises and begs. Dignity was a forgotten concept at that moment. You couldn’t care less if someone walked in, saw you rocking back into his Bakugou’s thrusts like the pathetic, desperate little thing you felt like, or heard the way you mewled and cried for your boss to fuck you till you couldn’t breath. All that matter was chasing the high that Bakugou gave you, the stretch in your walls as he used you completely for himself.

The breath was again stolen from your lungs as he slammed down on top of you, pressing your chest so hard against the desk you could feel your ribs creak. His rhythm was growing sloppy, hands groping you wherever he could reach as he neared his own climax slipping beneath your shirt to dig into the burning flesh of your waist. A sudden desire erupted in your lusty mind, and you lifted your head, trying in vain to communicate with the man above you. He let out a frustrated growl that reverberated against your back, threading his fingers into your hair and jerking your head to the side enough to look you in the face.

“What the hell do you want, sweetheart? Spit it out!” He demanded, carmine eyes glued to your bruised lips.

“I’m on the pill!” You sobbed, voice no more than a cracked whine.

You shuddered at the wolfish grin that split his face as he processed your words, releasing your hair and digging his fingers into your waist hard enough to bruise.

“You wanna be my little slut? All filled and dripping with my cum?”

You nodded frantically, struggling to match him when his pace picked up.

His eyes darkened. “Then say please.”

You didn’t hesitate. How could you?

“Katsuki, please!”

That was it. He hugged you tight against his chest as he finished inside of you, painting your insides with thick ropes of cum, thrusting into you shallowly as he rode out his high, the immense feeling of fullness bringing you to your own peak once again. You went completely limp against the desk, letting out a sharp wail as tremors took over your body once again. It was the most deliciously overwhelming thing you’d ever experienced, completely blotting out your vision for a few seconds and cancelling out everything except the feeling of him still buried inside of you.

Eventually, the two of you separated, Bakugou tucking himself neatly back into his pants before crossing the room to retrieve clean clothes from the small cabinet in the corner opposite the door. Rather than right yourself, you slid to the floor behind the desk. The twinges in your legs hadn’t completely subsided, but the cold air of the room was starting to become an issue as you realized again that you had no idea where Bakugou had thrown your shorts earlier. Your eyes trailed lazily around the room, briefly appreciating the sight of a now-shirtless Bakugou before grazing past the open door.

OPEN DOOR!?

Your eyes darted back to Bakugou, who was now staring at the door with a mixture of horror and shock. You couldn’t help but laugh, slumping back against the desk.

“Jeanist is gonna be so mad at us.”

@kat-unzel @wootato @sawamooora @honeyyandere @anxietyplusultra @redpandaramblings @krystalwithakay @dynamightslittlehotpocket @spooky-all-year-round @nkjktk @cupcake-rogue

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