#.spurred on by an ask Rose answered

[sansloii]

Andy's types are monsters, people that are a little harsh to him and give him shit, people that he can turn that around on, people taller than him that won't hesitate to yank on his $100 tie, people shorter than him that won't hesitate to yank on his $200 tie, people with dark hair ( black, brown, etc ), people that either don't mind or accept his obsessive tendencies, did I say people that give him shit already because that really gets him going sometimes--

[rosehipandroots]

slept great last night!! woke up on the right side of the bed ready for the day!! (cried within fifteen minutes of getting up)

[haikyu-mp4]

Second chance to cupid

word count; 1048 – f!reader

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

You were already very familiar with Bokuto. The guy was so outgoing that he’s had an interaction with almost every student at Fukurodani, and your conversations simply spurred into many more of them. A couple of days a week, you would see him in the hallway and he would wave excitedly while yelling your name, so that’s how you also ended up talking a lot to Akaashi. It always brightened your day and you could easily admit you grew a bit extra fond of Akaashi as the two of you started spending time together without the third wheel, despite his complaints about it.

Akaashi found you very interesting. He loved listening to you ramble about your club and other interests whenever you two were together. In some ways, your excitement reminded him of Bokuto. Now, some people think Bokuto is stupid. He is not, because when he sees how you two interact, there is no doubt in his mind that something is going on. Bokuto said yes to this project before you even finished your first sentence, which made you laugh softly and thank him before continuing to explain anyway. After meeting with you, he excitedly told Akaashi all about it even though he already heard about it from you, but Bokuto enjoyed how Akaashi seemed so happy about it coming true. That’s why Bokuto asked him during practice if he was planning on asking you out soon.

“What?” Akaashi said, grabbing the ball instead of passing it back.

“Y/n. Shouldn’t you ask her out soon?” the captain asked, gesturing for Akaashi to keep going with the drills. He didn’t.

“Uhh maybe…” Bokuto walked over, annoyed that he wasn’t passing but also smiling as he got an idea and interrupted Akaashi from answering further.

“You can do it while she’s here for the project!” he suggested, imagining some grand scene that didn’t suit Akaashi at all. “Make it real romantic, like when she’s taking the picture you say ‘your pretty smile is even brighter than the camera flash’ and magically whip out a bouquet of roses.”

“I will do it, Bokuto. At some point.” Akaashi assured him, stern but still soft as he wanted Bokuto to feel like he was helping in some way. “She doesn’t even like roses…” he mumbled as well. His mind went into overthinking for a while, mindlessly passing the ball between him and Bokuto.

Akaashi had put emphasis on the will because he planned on doing it the day after your photo shoot when you two shared lunch and discussed the player details. However, he didn’t notice that he didn’t emphasise that idea to his friend. The captain was thrilled because all he heard was you’re right, I will.

The photo shoot was easy so far. The Fukurodani team knew how to look confident and you had an all around good time with them. Your waves of laughter could be heard from outside the room and you all spent the time well. Akaashi seemed happy and you wondered if the room might be too hot as his cheeks were slightly red when you looked at him through the camera lens. He gave you a little smile and put his hands on his hips, doing his best to make you happy with his effort.

You took the picture and put the camera down in your lap to check it, whistling and then looking back up at the guy. “That’s great, Akaashi.” He had given you a couple of options.

He was the last one, so you sent another second year to get the third-years and kept making jokes with everyone as they shuffled out. Akaashi walked a bit slower, thanking you for doing the project for them and telling you to have good luck with the others. Well… with Bokuto.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto walked in first and bounced over to you, putting an arm over your shoulder and asking if you were doing alright. You confirmed but were still watching Akaashi as he left, giving Konoha a high five and then glancing over his shoulder at you. Bokuto looked between you two excitedly before yelling out. “Hey, Akaashi! Did you ask her out like you planned to?”

Akaashi froze, slowly turning around with a face filled with horror. You were surprised, frowning at Bokuto because you had not been asked about anything like that. Akaashi huffed and avoided your eyes. “No, I was going to do it tomorrow for lunch,” he whispered under his breath, sounding absolutely exasperated.

“So you already have a date tomorrow, that’s great!” Bokuto said, and Akaashi had to gather all his strength to not hit him over the head and make him too dejected before you had to deal with him. Everyone else in the room was laughing at the show and you couldn’t help the small chuckle either. Even though your cheeks were burning red, you smiled brightly and gave Akaashi a little wave.

“I look forward to our date, Akaashi. Get back to practice, I’ll send this one back to you when I’m done with him,” you teased, nodding your head at Bokuto who was giving off ‘I know I did something wrong but I’m happy with the outcome’ vibes.

“Just call me Cupid, I can be hired for any volleyball-related dating proposals,” he announced, making the other team members wince. No way.

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

[takes1]

Kuroo x Middle Blocker Reader? They’re both in Nekoma and their teams somehow someway play against each other in a training camp. The match was basically reader vs Kuroo whenever they were both in play, the tension is particularly heated in not a sportsmanship-banter way, some phrases are thrown back and forth; “keep your form steady pretty girl.” He’d whisper after they both land on their feet which leaves her to scold him for ‘seemingly’ nothing since only she heard it. After the match he’d tap back into an actual boyfriend and help her tape her fingers which were injured from blocking him.

(btw i read ur Matsukawa writing and got HOOKED 😋)

kuroo teasing tall!reader during a match

hey! thanks for the req, this was fun! featuring my fav headcanon: kuroo can throw his voice rlly well, which is why nobody on the team realized it was him whistling

warnings. none? minors still DNI

details. fem!reader / fluffy-esque fic / middle blocker!reader / flirty!kuroo / kuroo loves to tease / kuroo loves blockers / tall!reader / secretly sweet!kuroo / questionable intentions / hand thirst / hand holding / training camp setting / coach nekomata for the girls / 2k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

"Yo. 11."

A voice prodded your attention from the other side of the net. When you looked from your dispersing huddle to look at the guys' team, you realized it was the weirdo whose 'delayed spike' you clocked.

"You on scholarship?"

You turned your nose up at him. Something about his face pissed you off. The way he asked, with that unnecessary smirk and wandering eyes, made it feel like he wasn't really curious.

The answer was yes, but that wasn't his business.

With such an intelligent face, he would probably be able to use that information to win this stupid practice game. Your team's blockers were stronger. Both Nekoma teams were comparable on defense, so it was a game that could stand to be won with effective shutdowns.

You scowled and rolled your eyes.

"Why? You need some money?"

More than enough to express that you weren't interested in mind games.

This training camp was not your cup of tea. It made you irritable with every team you had to keep playing, the later the day went on, and the higher the sun rose in the sky.

The game now was the last of the day, and a spur-of-the-moment decision, at that. Most other schools called it early to get some rest before the last day of matches, but Nekoma was still steaming up the westmost gym, grinding away.

Your only saving grace was the frequency that you were switched out with your libero. Every second off the court was heaven to your aching legs, your clicky wrists, and sore fingers.

The assumption that the harassment would end just because you were subbed out became a distant dream.

He was also getting subbed with their libero. He stood ten feet away and didn't cross the court line.

"Psst."

You stared forward at the game, arms crossed. It hurt your fingers, just a little, so you winced and adjusted your hands so you could rest your arms more comfortably.

He shouted, "Elevennn."

It was so silly, his tactic of trying to break your focus, that you struggled to keep a chuckle down. He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell louder, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to not smile.

"If you need someone to tape you up, give me a shout, okay?"

You finally glanced at him. It was a sweet offer, especially because you were shit at taping and didn't trust the other girls to not break your fingers.

Still, he seemed like the kind of guy to flirt with every girl he thought was hot enough. He was too pretty. Too friendly.

Your speculative attitude towards him ended up as a blessing in disguise. Every play that lined you up with him was technical and difficult-- you weren't sure if it was your perception, his angle of changing to accommodate your read blocks, or if he was still trying to get in your head.

#1 acknowledged you after every play.

It ranged from stare-downs, to somewhat-predictable snarky comments, to genuinely inappropriate flirting.

"Form breakin' down, baby? You tired?"

Was he messing with you? Or was he actually interested?

"Don't talk to me."

What should have been a discouraged frown was -to your chagrin- a shit-eating smirk. This version of 'breaking the other team's blockers' felt too targeted. You could practically feel the burn of his stare through the net, through your jersey, through the odds.

"What's with 1?" You quizzed your team captain, with almost no time off of the court, and took down a quick swallow of water, "Is- he always so fucked in the head?"

"Kuroo?"

She cackled. Cackled so hard, in fact, and you didn't even need her answer, but she gave it anyway in a dismissive sigh.

"Ohh, yeah."

The primary rationale you held going into the last set was that, maybe if you could take the feeling of being special out of your mix of emotions, it would callous your attitude towards him.

Your serve wasn't the strongest on your team. It was certainly the weakest in your inventory of skills, so this hope was the only one you had, up to start the first play.

An insecurity, very small, but nagging like a fly in the back of your head, was that he might try to heckle while the spotlight was already beaming down on you. Your routine wasn't compromised for the first 10 seconds. Being left alone was starting to become a reality.

Your hand flew to make contact with the ball. You could feel it was a good one.

A strong, intelligently-timed, wolf-whistle made you flinch at the last second and hit the ball at an angle. It flew to left, just out of bounds at the back of the opposite court.

You weren't the only one pissed off at that. Many girls on your team shouted to your defense, but nobody stepped up to confess, nor apologize. Coach Nekomata wore a deep-set expression of displeasure but said nothing.

You knew exactly who it was. He was in the back row, but a huge presence, nonetheless.

"Lock it up, guys! Keep it professional!"

Kuroo clapped, feigning a pretty convincing concern at his impolite team.

It was like a humiliation ritual having to serve again. Your hesitation, the breath you took to gather yourself, must have looked just as sad as it felt, because the encouragement from your team rang more as pity, than anything.

You didn't try to do any tricks. You just barely bumped it into play and stepped to the back, thankful for something simple.

The rest of the volley was just as hard-fought. The ball refused touch the ground for so long that both sides were secretly hoping somebody, anybody, on either team, would just fuck up, already.

The guys' team took a free ball well and set up a strong attack.

Kuroo was open- you were so tired that you read him, only him, and got lucky when the set flew to his hand when you were in a good spot for a 1-1 block.

His swing, the ball hitting the floor, the deafening slam, the end of your jump in a clumsy landing was all so fast that you didn't fully register any one part before the next was starting. You slipped, hit the ground, and landed on your side briefly.

You scrambled up, a habit. Head swinging around where it landed, you were trying to see who caught it-- but your teammates were cheering, and nobody looked ready to receive.

The whistle blew. Your team won the set.

"Nice one!!"

"Let's fucking go!!"

"Ughhh-hhh," You collapsed onto the floor and left it up to your team to peel you up.

The guys not only needed to do their losing lap of diving drills, but thanks to that stunt Kuroo decided to pull, Coach Nekomata made it three laps.

Your captain informed you that he was going to have them do just one extra if the guilty confessed, but 'whoever it was' decided to keep it to himself and earned another. You figured Kuroo might take that one to the grave.

Your team's comments were well-timed as the guys squeaked and slid and grunted past you.

"Serves them right."

"Filthy animals."

All of them were soaked in sweat and, despite how comical it was, you felt like the penalty was excessive. Group punishment, in cases like these, was mostly just sad to watch.

After your team finished their cooldowns and began filing out to head to the lodge, you remained to speak to the athletic trainer about the throbbing in your hands.

"Mm. Looks like a sprain, thankfully."

The word sprain scared you, but you tried to not let it show.

"But-- you should keep pressure off of it. Try to keep it still and tape, if you can."

It was automatic, thinking back to Kuroo's little invitation.

Their team stayed to clean up, and you glanced over to Kuroo helping sweep. They all looked so bummed and tired. There was no way in hell he had been honest, even then; and now, after that much extra work, you were certain that he wanted nothing to do with you.

Now that the sun was setting, stepping outside was less egregious to the senses. No more blinding white light, no piercing heat. Just the mellow buzz of cicadas and a fresh summer scent.

You got to leave your stress at the door. In your doing so, the question lingered: Why did it matter so much what he thought of you? Why did you want to know the truth so bad?

"Hey-!" Kuroo's voice was at first so rushed that he startled you. He self-corrected to a shell of his smooth, sweet-talking type of tone: "Hey,"

Your giggle underneath your palm made him blush. He was incredibly uncool if he wasn't trying.

You mocked him: "Hey."

The way he grinned, and how he hung, a little embarrassed, on the entrance to the gym was sweet.

"I'm sorry about messing with you so much, especially- uh,"

He was struggling to articulate, so you quickly eased the situation. He had paid enough for his irritating habits.

You shifted your weight and crossed your arms again with a shrug, "It's fine! You were just trying to get to me. It's a good tactic, I'm used to it."

Once again, it was not a sustainable way to hold yourself- you winced at the pain in your fingers and shook your wrists out once more.

Kuroo wore the first genuine face of concern you had yet to see on him. It made you regret the mistake to cross your arms.

He jerked a thumb back inside, "I saw you talking to the trainer. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah--,"

"Do you-," He smiled, once again, much sweeter than before, when he realized he was repeating himself, "-Need me to tape you up?"

Your, "Um," was loaded with indecision.

The painful and arduous process of having to sit through your teammates taping you down was a brief and agonizing flash before your eyes.

He was in the middle of telling you to not feel pressured to say yes, when you nodded.

"Yeah, let's do it."

After he left for a moment to grab the roll of tape from his bag, you sat on the elevated platform that made up the doorway to the gym. He settled next to you with a tired groan.

"Ooh-kay, let's seee-,"

His concentration on your hand was precise, and studied, with very clear intention to not hurt you.

You shifted closer.

He would use his teeth to pull the tape taut, one hand always busy, gently supporting yours. You watched his face. He watched your shaky fingers.

His eyelashes were long and dark. It made him look more pretty -instead of handsome- from this distance. That messy 'bedhead' hair was slicked back with sweat, aside from some rebellious strays at his hairline. He smelled like work, with a very recent, last-minute spray of deodorant.

Between these longer inspections of his features, you would glance to the growing shadows outside as the sun sank lower in the sky. He looked so lovely in the warm, fleeting, orange glow.

As he turned your hand over, you realized you had been wrong in your assumptions about his personal character. Kuroo was a sweetheart.

He was also really good at taping hands. He finished with your first hand and was halfway through the second, pace quicker, because this closer one was resting in his lap, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

Long, nimble fingers were finishing up. You looked down and grew hot and tingly at the sight of your hand in his lap.

"That feel okay?" He asked softly.

You nodded and gave an instant 'yes' before you even checked.

"Did'ya see what I did?"

Your blush grew out of embarrassment. You lied, poorly, "Um- yeah."

Kuroo laughed. You realized you needed to take your hand back, so you held them out in front of your face and wiggled to check the support. It did feel okay.

"Well, before your next game, try to do it like that," He reached out to pinch your knuckles between his fingertips, and brought your somewhat-connected hands back down between you. It was a motion that was incredibly vague in nature, so you didn't know how to feel about it, "Or- y'know, come and find me. I'd love to help."

His tape was nicer than yours. You wouldn't be able to replicate it just by staring at the finished product.

"I think I'll come and find you," You decided.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Stinky Daddy /concept/

AN: i'm almost finished proofreading part. 14 of my housemate series. that should be out sometime this week. but for now, enjoy this little concept i came up with. make sure to leave your feedback. thank you! xoxo

This story contains: mentions of popping, slight swearing, fluff

{ husband!harry - dadrry - soft!harry - au!harry }

word count- 416

Harry runs out of toilet paper and when he calls out for you to bring him some more, he's surprised when your two year old daughter brings him some instead.

"Y/N, could you please bring me some toilet paper?" you hear Harry call from the master bathroom, reaching you in your daughter's bedroom. Finding humor in his forgetfulness, you devise a clever idea.

In a kneeling position, you kindly ask your two-year-old daughter, "Lucy, do you want to help daddy by bringing him some toilet paper?" She nods in agreement, and so you lead her to the hallway where the storage closet is found. You select a roll of toilet paper and give it to Lucy.

She runs off in the direction of your bathroom and you stand outside the door to hear their interaction.

Just as Harry was calling for you again, believing you might not have heard him the first time, little Lucy walks through the door with precisely what he needed. Thankfully, he has his hand positioned to shield himself, preventing his daughter from seeing anything she shouldn't see.

"To-paper, daddy?" Lucy asks, walking up to the toilet where Harry sits.

"Yeah baby, daddy needs some toilet paper." She hands him the roll and just stands there, not comprehending that he requires privacy for this task. "Um, why don't you go find mummy, okay. I'll be out in just a minute."

"Oh-tay, bye daddy. Love you."

With a light laugh, he replies back, "I love you too, m'love." Once she's left, he wraps up his business and steps out of the bathroom, only to find you and little Lucy having fun on the bed. Harry steps closer and whispers in your ear, "Why did you send our daughter into the bathroom with the toilet paper? Good thing I was already coverin' m'cock, or she could have seen me."

You honestly hadn't thought of that but are happy he was already covering himself. Shrugging, you answer, "I donno. Thought it'd be funny to send our daughter in. She came back holding her nose, saying, 'stinky daddy.'"

Harry laughs out loud. "Yeah, obviously. I was taking a shit. It wasn't gonna smell like roses."

Lucy looks up at her daddy and repeats to his face, "Stinky."

With his hands freshly cleaned, Harry leans over the toddler and begins to tickle her, quipping, "Yeah, well your poop doesn't smell delightful either. I can attest to that, havin' changed your rather smelly diapers, little one." The laughter from Lucy, spurred by the tickling, creates a ripple effect, leading to shared laughter among all three of you, as you enjoy a cherished family moment on the bed.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg

[amnesique]

do you write smut? if you do, can you write the scene in episode 1(i think?) where belly tells conrad to quit smoking and he says "what will you give me if i do" but that it leads to smut?

and can you do it with x reader instead of belly if possible please, thank you so much :)

what'll you give me if i do? — conrad fisher

warnings: SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI!), dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, p in v.

there was a wave of fog that enveloped every girl that stood around conrad fisher, as if it was encouraging them to pluck up the courage to pass through it to try to understand what was happening to the boy, besides the silence that surrounded him wherever he was. and yet, none of them seemed to succeed. at least, not yet.

the fisher boy was sitting in the back yard, by the pool, with his feet in the water as he was lazily smoking a cigarette. something you saw him doing more and more that summer, even though that summer had just started.

being belly's cousin, the daughter of his mother's best friend, it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to spend the summer with them, although the fact that you jumped into the pool, as if was out of nowhere, caught him a little off guard.

he was staring fixedly with a cigarette in hand at the place where you had plunged into the water.

“sorry,” you murmured to him after getting out of the water, not before flipping your already damp hair back. "i haven't seen you here," you added, trying to adjust your vision, because of the water on your face.

"no problem," he replied dryly, taking another drag from his cigarette.

typical conrad fisher, you thought, as you suddenly just then noticed the fact that he was smoking, after your gaze had adjusted enough.

"since when do you smoke?” you asked him in a tone that was meant to be accusing, but it only ended up making conrad smile at the corner of his mouth, immediately after blowing the cigarette steam into the dark night sky.

"don't tell me you care," he said, running his tongue across the front of his teeth, accentuating his smile from before.

he took another drag from his cigarette, his gaze locked on you as he did so.

you didn't know what to answer.

you didn't care, did you?

but your mouth got you ahead of you and you found yourself telling him "i think you should quit."

"what'll you give me if i do?"

you didn't know what had made you stop breathing in the first place, his words or the way he let the smoke leave as he continued to have a smile on his face, this time actually looking more of a grin than a smile.

conrad knew that smoking can be attractive to certain girls, even for you —despite the fact that you had just suggested that he quit—, and he took full advantage of it.

acting on the spur of the moment, you swam the remaining distance between you and rose to the surface in just a few seconds. you put your arms on either side of his body, leaning on the edge of the pool for balance, and you suddenly connected your lips with his while he put out the cigarette.

he quickly took the opportunity to wrap his free arm around your waist to help keep you afloat, as he rushed to deepen the kiss the moment your lips parted slightly over his when you felt his touch on your wet skin, ignoring the presence of your bathing suit.

he was so good at kissing you that you were so damn grateful for his arm holding you. because if it hadn't been there, then you would surely have drowned already if you had to support yourself alone.

a faint sound left your lips as, using his hand around your waist, he pulled you all the way over his lap, lifting you out of the pool. a sound that he would've liked to hear endlessly.

only, being the wrong people at the wrong time, jeremiah and steven showed up outside the house, making a lot of noise before they noticed you, and you immediately pulled away from conrad, leaving him yearning for having you again in his lap.

you were preoccupied with looking at each other, both mentally cursing the two of them —conrad more than you—, that you didn't even realize what they were talking about. not until steven addressed conrad specifically, "come on, man, we're leaving," he said with excitement visible all over his face and conrad struggled to look away from you to look at him. "you ready?"

you weren't aware of what it was about, but it didn't matter either, because conrad was quick to turn him down. "actually, change of plan, man, i can't come tonight."

both steven and jeremiah looked at him confused.

steven raised an eyebrow. "how? why?" he asked.

conrad fisher was not a man of many words, so he just shrugged and said, "something else came up."

jeremiah and steven exchanged glances, not knowing whether to believe him or not, but neither of them would've thought that the thing that came up was actually someone and you were right in front of them. eventually they gave up and left the backyard, leaving you alone with conrad again and with a tension between you which could not be overlooked, the desire still being on both sides.

"soo," you lengthened the letter because you didn't know what to say, "good night, i think," you added and you wanted to leave, but he grabbed your hand and when you looked at him, you couldn't take your eyes off his gaze and the way you could see he was longing for you.

"good night?" he used a tone to tease you and a grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. "it would be a good night if you continued what you started."

"what?"

your cheeks flushed and you stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

oh, your naivety.

it attracted him even more that even though you were perfectly aware of what you had started, you were unaware of the effect you were having on him.

he pulled your hand so that your legs were around his lap again, placing his hands on your back, lightly forming circles on it with his long fingers, and his lips on your neck. when you felt his lips on your neck, you involuntarily arched your back and moved against his growing erection, having him gasping to try and keep his control.

"don't move," he warned you, his mouth now close to your ear as he lowered his hands to your waist to stop you.

but the area where you needed him was starting to throb and yearn for his touch, forgetting about the layers of clothing that would separate you both from making skin to skin contact.

you tried to tell him that, but instead you made a soft sound, almost like a whimper, and he couldn't resist the temptation anymore and pressed his lips to yours, kissing them as if hungrily as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

and so it was.

only he knew how often it became painful to see you in a short dress or a bathing suit, making him think about how you would look without any clothing item.

during the kiss, you started to rub against him again taking advantage of his carelessness and when your pulsing core made contact with his length, your lips parted and you sent a soft moan into his mouth, right before his tongue entered your mouth and entwined with yours in a dance of desire.

you continued the kiss for several seconds, conrad completely dominating you while you tried to keep up with him.

you broke the kiss, leaning back just as you could breath and whispered under heavy breath, "we shouldn't be doing this."

"why?" conrad asked you, breathing just as hard, running his finger over your bottom lip.

"anyone can see us here," you said and you weren't phased that you saw another grin appear on his face.

"let that be our last problem,” he replied and lifted you off of him, taking you over his shoulder and covering your bottom with his hand as he slipped through the back door to go up to his room, without you two bumping into the belly or even worse, into one of the mothers.

you reached his room and he put you down, with your back to the door, as soon as he made sure he locked it, and the way he looked at you made your thighs squeeze around nothing.

"i think you should ditch the swimsuit, love, or you'll catch a cold."

you swallowed hard, looking at him as he measured you from head to toe, and you couldn't go on even though you wanted it more than anything.

he noticed your avoidance and moved closer to you, playing with the strap of your swimsuit, his breath blowing lightly heat against your skin. he couldn't be more wrong than that. there was no way you could catch a cold, even though your bathing suit was indeed still wet, when your whole body was on fire for him.

"do you want me to help you?" he whispered, brushing your hair aside with his free hand so he could see your neck.

with your breath caught in your throat, you nodded your approval and his hand lifted your chin with two fingers, bringing your lips to his.

"with words, love."

you snapped out of your trance, muttering an "yes", just to urge him on.

his hands slowly went down one strap at a time, taking his sweet time to look at your chest as it was right under his nose, and he couldn't control himself and grabbed both of your breasts with his hands, gently massaging them, drawing a weak moan from you. he ran his tongue over one of them, continuing to caress the other as he removed the entire bathing suit from your body and moved down, wanting to run his mouth over your body, but you stopped him, instinctively grabbing him by the hair to get his attention, and he could've sworn he was almost ready to finish in his pants, right then and there.

"aren't your clothes also wet after the moment before?" you asked, and he gave you a knowing smile.

he pulled away from you, the smile still playing on his lips, and he removed one item of clothing one at a time, earning a sigh from you each time. you liked what you saw.

he was only in his boxers and started to come towards you, but you put your hand on his chest, stopping him. “not fair,” you said and looked at him seriously, so he chuckled in a low tone and took them off as well, leaving you both completely naked in the moonlight that filtered through the blinds of the bedroom window.

plucking up some courage and trying not to think about how big he was, you pulled his neck towards you and you kissed him, as he pushed you back towards the bed until you fell on it. he leaned over you, continuing the kiss and helping you get comfortable between his pillows.

"are you sure?" he asked and you agreed. he moved his hand down between you and when he reached your opening he felt how wet you were and he smirked against your lips. "all this for me?" he asked teasing you but inserted a finger of his inside you, making you open your mouth slightly. "shh, love," he cooed, and kissed you briefly, earning your moans as he inserted another finger and and he curled them just right so he can touch the place that made you lose yourself under him. "we wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we?" he continued and asked you between short kisses,

you wanted to tell him you were close, your breathing becoming alert as you followed your release. but he already knew that by the way you squeezed his fingers inside you, so he suddenly withdrew, at which point you whimpered and felt your body begin to calm down, though you still felt the desire pulsing at your core.

"i won't let you finish until you finish when i'm inside you," he assured you and reached to grab a condom from the bedside drawer and open it with his teeth as he roll it on.

you moaned in anticipation, involuntarily clenching your thighs, but he pulled them apart, making a sound of disapproval and positioning himself at your entrance. "i hope you haven't changed your mind because i don't think i can back down now,” he said, tucking a strand of hair, that sticks to your face because of the moisture on it, behind your ear as he watched you while standing on his elbows at the either side of your body. and when he met your gaze, you placed your hands on his cheeks, kissing him and pulling him back down over you, giving him the answer.

he put it inside you, waiting a bit until you squeezed his hand to continue as you both moaned at the contact, and he picked up the speed.

"you feel so fucking good," he said and your moans had become his new favorite sound, he could have listened to you all day and all evening and he would not have had enough.

he was nearing his finish, and he couldn't resist anymore, so his movements became sloppier and faster, as he lowered his hand to massage your clit in small circles to help you both finish at the same time.

the only sounds in the room were your hurried, strangled breaths, and the sounds of wetness as his body pounded inside you, until the released washed up over you both, and he fell on your chest.

"it was amazing. worth quiting smoking for," he said unexpectedly from the euphoric high he was feeling, —more euphoric than the feeling he got from smoking—, and you giggled under him, hiding your face with a hand as the other one hugged his body softly.

[badwolfrose34]

Father’s Day gets more emotional every time I watch it. This time I noticed now Jackie and Pete’s argument is meant to mirror the fight the Doctor has with Rose. And after that fight how he sprints after her when he realizes she’s in trouble. Saying he picked another stupid ape was REALLY harsh. But he never made another comment like that before or since. He was just hurt because he thought Rose was using him to save her dad when really it was a spur of the moment choice. I headcanon the book The Monsters Inside taking place right before Father’s Day because in that book Rose meets a man who has been separated from his dad and it makes Rose think of her own. I think that’s the answer to when the Doctor asks “where’s this coming from all of a sudden.”

Then there’s the moment Pete realizes that all along he could’ve jumped back in front of the car and reversed everything but the Doctor never mentions it and tries to find another way so he doesn’t have to put Rose through that again.

[marigold-hills]

Precious Things (Part 6)

a Remus Lupin Yuletide Miracle

Day six: Icicle | @wolfstarmicrofic

722 words

PART 1 | PREVIOUS PART

*🎄🎄🎄*

Nothing happens, which is maybe more disappointing than it should be. Remus doesn’t know what he expected - an immediate answer now that he got himself in line and responded, he supposes - but of course that was naive.

It’s Sunday. People have things to do on Sundays, friends or family to see. Whoever the person in the Notebook was, they wouldn’t just be sitting around, waiting for Remus to stop being pathetic and write them back.

A nagging, always worried part of Remus tells him that he was too late, that the person (his person) got tired of waiting for him and threw away the Notebook, and there never will come a response.

As each week, he bundles up against the cold and ventures out to the red telephone box across from his flat. His mum waits for the call in the little cottage in the Welsh countryside. It’s the same home Remus grew up in, with the same books and smells and love.

“How are you this week, annwyl?” she asks in that voice of hers that soothes and makes better and, sometimes, brings Remus back down to reality when he’s gone lost too far in his grumpiness or in his books. 

It’s a lovely talk. It always is. She tells him about their winter roses blooming and he tells her about a letter that got lost on the Scottish border when an owl got distracted by a little girl feeding it bacon. She asks: remember the year we had all that snow? And your da didn’t tighten the bathroom tap properly?

And there was an icicle hanging off it in the morning, Remus finishes for her. I remember.

That was his last winter living at home. He visits, of course: every holiday and every other month, but there is something different about it now he doesn’t call it home any longer.

No - that’s not right. He calls it home still. But every time he goes back there are little changes he would have known about were he living there permanently - like the tea cabinet changing location, or new greys in his mum’s hair.

He’s cold when he gets back to his flat - both in and out - so he sets to making a hot chocolate. Milk on the stove warming up as he chops up a bar of 70% dark. A little bit of cinnamon, a little bit of nutmeg.

He doesn’t recognise the sound straight away. It’s soothing and soft and only just loud enough to be heard. He thinks it’s birds outside of his window, first, but then his gaze falls to the Notebook and the soft golden glow emanating from within the pages.

Even just in front of himself, he’s rather embarrassed about how fast he falls over himself to get it.

As interesting as botany could be, it reads, I’m afraid I was being forward.

Remus huffs out a laugh. An actual, real, proper laugh. Out of all the things he was expecting… except that’s not right, not at all, because he expected to be ignored.

Instead, this.

Are you usually? he writes back and tells himself to drink his chocolate (perfect, perfect chocolate) and go about his day. He’s not going to sit around waiting.

Except it’s minutes, when the chime rings again.

Interested in botany, or forward?

Remus has the Quill in his fingers before he knows it.

The latter.

The writing happens slowly on the page. Remus watches words formed in that pretty, pretty handwriting.

It depends who you ask. This time, I’m afraid, it was spurred on by the poor guidance of my brother. 

Somehow it’s this - the mention of a brother - that reminds Remus this is a real person he’s talking to. Flesh and blood, and thought and feelings, a hand which grips the Quill and produces that ridiculous calligraphy. Someone with taste in food and music and who makes bad choices because their brother pushes them to do so.

Do you follow his poor guidance often? There’s a wide smile on Remus’ face as he writes and he hides it in his cup of chocolate because it is embarrassing, and ridiculously, and he needs to get a grip. Even though there’s no one to see.

Oh, love, the reply comes before Remus can even put the Notebook down, you have no idea. 

*🎄🎄🎄*

they’re finally talking 🥹🥹

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in new parts as they come out!

@dead-gay-wizard-poet

@hoje--aqui

@prancingpony42

@annaliza999

[gardenofnoah]

katsuki hates to be placated.

it stems from his childhood (because of course it does)—there was no getting through or around his abrasiveness, so the next best thing was to pin him with that tired smile. the look of resignation that was always the same, no matter who wore it. to agree to every retort, even if he was being so horribly unreasonable. to choose—overtly—the quickest way to end the argument and flee from him.

he hated it. he hated it, and he could never understand—why was he the only one who ever had any backbone? he saw his challenges and rose to them every time. he came out on top, every time. it wasn’t as if he was being purposefully combative. he just…didn’t know how else to be.

to finally understand that he himself was the challenge, and one not worth seeing through—well.

that just hurt.

so he did the only thing a child so young could think to do—he became more. more volatile, more prone to outbursts. more unpredictable and, looking back on it now, scary. but that was what made sense to him—if he was made to see those barely-veiled expressions of intolerance either way—he’d at least have control over why.

as an adult, he has a better grasp on himself and his emotions, but he wouldn’t be katsuki without that hair trigger temper and his smart ass mouth. and he feels lucky—really lucky—that he has you, because you aren’t afraid of his challenge. you meet him head on and you give it right back.

so he can’t understand why you’re standing in front of him—not even looking at him—wearing that same, appeasing grimace tonight. he doesn’t understand, and suddenly he’s 11 again—small and made to feel so, so insignificant by the way you sigh like you can’t bear to speak another word to him. by the way your lips can barely turn up at the corners, and your strained little “nothing, kat” when he asks you what your problem is.

he had only answered your questions. it might’ve been the case that his answers came through gritted teeth as he heaved himself through the door to your home. it might be true that the adrenaline from his shift still pumping hard through his veins had him a little on edge, still feeling vigilant for any outward threat. and the way you’re postured away from him, like you can’t stand another second in the same room with him, feels as threatening as any villain.

“so why the fuck are you mad at me?”

you pause, hand halfway to dropping the tea bag into the steaming mug on the counter as you turn to look at him, expression both concerned and very tired.

“mad at you?”

he balks, because he hadn’t anticipated having to actually elaborate on that, and now he feels foolish as he tries to formulate his complaint. but the anger wins out, like it always does, and his explanation comes out clipped through gritted teeth.

“you’re fuckin’—turned away from me like i’m a little pest,” he seethes, only spurred on by the way you step forward, reaching for him like you mean to pacify a child mid-tantrum.

he doesn’t even see you anymore, not really—just every other face projected over yours, until he sees red. it’s always the same—no matter how hard he tries, he is too much—

“y’think i can’t tell how bad you don’t want to be here right now? i can practically hear ya thinking of all the ways to leave this—”

“katsuki.”

you’re facing him fully now, arms crossed over your chest with a look that can only be interpreted as one of annoyance, aimed right at him.

and that gives him pause, because at least you’re honest. he just…doesn’t know what to do with that.

“what on earth are you talking about?”

and of course he can’t say it. he tries to deflect, because the walls close in and the only way out is to steamroll over you. “you—you—”

and he just wishes you’d cut him off—tell him some horrible and likely true thing about himself so he can let go of all of the venom he’s been carrying around for over a decade—but instead you wait for him to tell you what he’s thinking. he can’t bear to tell you that the only thing in his head right now is his fear.

fear that he’s too much for you, too.

“you’re actin’ like you don’t want to talk to me,” he grits out, mirroring your posture with a huff and glaring at the tile by your feet. it sounds childish when it leaves him, like he ought to have stomped his foot to end the sentence, and the shame curls up in his chest.

you’re silent for what feels like an eternity. he feels the anger burn him up when he hears you snort.

before he can snap at you, you’re wrapped around his midsection. he wants to thrash until you let go, but he’s subdued in a way that feels different. even so, his petulance remains, and he holds his arms out from his sides like you’ve got fleas.

“i’m not mad at you, you big baby,” you murmur, and he can hear the smile in your voice, even muffled by his costume. “i’m just tired, kat. i was like, 99% asleep until a minute ago. i thought we were just gonna go to bed. ”

he feels himself fight against the way he wants to deflate at your words, and this time the anger is only directed at himself. he doesn’t understand why everything has to feel so fucking hard. why every tiny shift in your body language has him feeling nauseous, or why his mind drops him at the worst case scenario and leaves him there, stranded.

“i don’t want to leave,” you answer his earlier comment, head butting him lightly in the sternum. he feels no control over his arms when they loop around your shoulders to pull you closer.

“it’s 1am and i want to sleep,” you look up to shoot him a pointed glare, but there’s no real heat behind it, “so can you shower so we can do that?”

he can only blink at you. after a long moment, your words filter down far enough for him to understand.

“i—uh. yeah.”

your lips twitch up at the corners as you pull away from him. he feels so raw that he’s unable to move, unsure how to proceed and unwilling to let you out of his sight in case it’ll be the last time he sees you.

“go on,” you say, expression softer, “i’ll be in bed when you’re done. maybe i’ll cuddle you if you’re done yelling at me.”

“‘m sorry,” he can’t manage anything louder than a whisper, and when you reach out to rest your palm over his heart, it’s far more painful than any withdrawal could have been.

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“…okay.”

[cardansriddle]

You're so dark - (tom riddle x fem!reader) (modern au)

Summary: A mysterious stranger in a bookshop takes a sudden interest in you when he notices your peculiar taste in literature.

Warnings: not proofread bc i'm a bitch like that.

A/N: inspired by arctic monkeys' song "you're so dark" because I'm obsessed with it and I had to incorporate it into my writing somehow.

༻♛༺

The bell chimed distinctly in the dimly lit library, announcing the arrival of a yet new customer. You kept your head hung low, eyes fleeting over the words inked on the pages of the book with brows furrowed in concentration.

It was only when you heard the thump of shoes against the wooden floor did you raise your gaze from the page, only to be met with the sight of a man who looked like he walked straight out of a dark fantasy book. You assumed he would be the anti-hero, with his chiselled features, and dark hair. His face was unfairly handsome, and the self-assured yet stoic expression on his face only proved your theory further. Definitely a villain.

“How may I help you?” You asked after a brief moment of silence, marking the spot where you had left off and carefully setting your book aside to help out the customer.

His dark eyes flickered down to the book, fleeted over the cover before it locked with your own leather jacket clad form. 

He was about to say what he had come after; you could tell he knew what he wanted, but then in a split second, he seemed to change his mind, and he cocked his head to the side, stare still on you.

“What would you recommend?” He asked, and the deep rumble of his voice sent a shiver straight down your spine. He gestured to the book you had just put down. “How about that one?”

You rose an inquisitive brow. “Not many people are fond of Lovecraft’s works. Too dark for their particular tastes.”

The stranger did not seem bothered by your answer, if anything, he was spurred on to continue. “What if I want to read dark literature?”

He watched as your eyes roved over him, lingering for a second too long on the perfect frown of his lips, before you tore your gaze away. “Perhaps you may want to try Edgar Allan Poe.” You suggested. “Dark and poetic.”

“And that is what you like? Dark and poetic?” The stranger asked again, and you felt his stare burn through your whole being as the implication of his question ran deeper than simple literature. He was watching you, in that intense manner of his, and it was enough to ignite fire in your entire being.

You bit your lower lip, before slowly looking up at him. “I think everything dark is naturally poetic.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and you could sense that he was strangely pleased with your reply. A raven cawed from somewhere outside, and a chill ran down your spine at the sudden tension that seemed to hang around the two of you.

“Then Allan Poe it is.” He decided with a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. 

You nodded and began making your way between the shelves to find the book you presumed the stranger would enjoy from the author’s works. You felt him following your trail but did not notice how his eyes had become glued to the tattoo on full display thanks to your shirt that exposed some of your back. The black ink engraved on your skin in the form of a murder of crows sent a sense of thrill through his veins, and with every new thing he discovered about you, he was becoming more and more hooked. 

Rising on your toes, you reached towards the upper shelf to grab the book you presumed the stranger would enjoy, and as the pads of your fingers barely grazed the spine of the object, you suddenly felt warm as a body pressed against your back to retrieve the book with ease.

Your lungs stuttered, struggling to find air to breathe while his chest brushed your back, and then you felt his hand grabbing a firm hold of your waist.

Tom usually withheld himself from such urges, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that he wanted you bad. It was as if all rational thoughts had been drowned by the need to have you. He wanted you down on all fours as he made you scream his name into the night, and he wanted his teeth to be marking your throat with bruises that would stay on you like a tattoo. 

You turned around in his hold to face him and the sight of his form half shrouded in shadows and the other half illuminated by the winter sun seeping through the windows was enough to send your mind reeling. You caught his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. As if on instinct, your own dropped to his mouth, and it did not go unnoticed by the stranger.

You did not know who moved first, you did not care, because one second you were staring at one another, and the next his lips were moulded against yours. His hand on your waist circled to your back to hold you tighter against his body, while the other grasped your hair. It was messy, desperate, and urgent— the way he kissed you as if he was a man starved. But you were just as eager, with your back pressed against the bookshelf and your hands running over any part of him you could find as you allowed yourself to get ensnared in his trap.

When you finally pulled away to catch much needed air, you were both panting. His dark eyes roved over you once more before he stepped closer, entirely blocking the sunlight from your view.

"I'm Tom Riddle." He said with his gravelly voice.

And when you gave him your name, it felt as if you willingly handed your soul to the devil instead.

༻♛༺

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[kaedekolya]

alkaid: of sincerity, soulmates, and selfless sacrifice

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ Happy birthday, Alkaid! \(´▽`)/ ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ-

In honour of this special day, I’ve prepared a present – a short meta post answering the question posed in the LBC discord server, “What made you fall for Alkaid?”

This screenshot pretty much sums it up (mild Godheim spoilers):

Alkaid loves deeply, and this manifests in his unwavering devotion and earnest sincerity. He is a steadfast protector who loves and feels and hurts with every fibre of his being, yet he conceals this intensity with a genial demeanour.

What are Alkaid’s core motivations and character traits? What lies beneath the facade of this heartrendingly complex character? For all that Alkaid is an enigma, he also inadvertently wears his heart on his sleeve, if you know where to look.

[ SPOILERS: broad references to Alkaid’s stories from Godheim, White Day, and Book of Tales. ]

Upon MC’s first encounter with Alkaid in the modern world, my first impression of him was a decently good one, but not particularly impressive or memorable. He’s the generic nice guy, the affable upperclassman who welcomes you to school and helps you settle in comfortably.

Later, we come to realise that this is exactly what he wants others to think. Alkaid intentionally projects the image of an unassuming gentleman, concealing his true emotions underneath an amiable disposition and a pleasant smile. Wearing this persona as his shield, he strives to be likeable, while also fading into the background, unobtrusive and unremarkable. The less attention drawn to himself, the better; there will be fewer chances to slip up, fewer risks of making a mistake. As long as he keeps up appearances, he can play the role of the perfect prince.

Alkaid does not do this to be deliberately duplicitous; in fact, it is much the contrary. His innate kindness and self-effacing consideration for others spur him to accommodate as much as he can, often to the point of self-sacrifice. He hides his true self, in order to please others. He relinquishes what he has, in order to give others what they want. Alkaid puts himself secondary to what others ask of him, not because he thinks of himself as worthless, but because he believes he is worth less.

In the Book of Tales event, Alkaid’s story draws from Oscar Wilde’s The Nightingale and the Rose. It is a tale of a nightingale who sacrifices her blood and her life, in order to create a red rose for the human she loves. In the same way, Alkaid readily pierces himself with thorns so that he can give MC the red rose she needs. Despite the excruciating pain, he does not flinch in the slightest, but he immediately reacts in a panic when MC is hurt by the thorny vines. Alkaid cares for others more than he does himself, yet he does not realise that by valuing himself less and taking all the hurt upon himself, he is inadvertently hurting those who care for him.

In Godheim, Alkaid’s love is also shown through selfless sacrifice. He willingly forsakes himself without a second thought, simply because he loves someone that deeply and thinks that little of himself in comparison. He would rather inflict wounds on himself than risk taking advantage of the person he loves, and he always strives to be kind no matter the cruelty dealt to him. His desire stems from love, and his power coalesces from his wish to protect those who matter to him.

In an effort to keep MC safe, Alkaid pushes himself to the brink, exhausting all his magic and life energy to the point that he nearly dies. One particular route branch has him shouldering the blame on MC's behalf, taking her punishment upon himself so that she doesn't have to. At the end of it all, he even writes a biography to honour Clarence's sacrifice, despite everything the Archmage has done to him. Alkaid is so empathetic that he can see past his sister's death and recognise that MC is an unwilling player in this whole situation, that she doesn't deserve anyone's ire.

Alkaid's heart runs so deep and so kind, yet he never recognises his own goodness, instead fearing the potential for evil within him. Throughout his Godheim route, he refrains from ending anyone's life, even that of his enemies, yet he is willing to commit evil with his own hands if it means he can protect his beloved MC. It is this irony, this multifacetedness to Alkaid that makes him such an intriguing character – even as it makes him fear himself for what he is capable of.

In modern-day Alkaid, this contradiction is reflected in his self-perception. Borrowing the metaphor of the Rose Elf and the Gentleman Agent, Alkaid believes he cannot possibly be the former because he is nowhere near as honest or upright. Instead, he identifies with the latter, because he hides so much of himself in the shadows.

What Alkaid fails to realise, however, is that these characters are not one-dimensional tropes, and neither is he. The Gentleman Agent is shrouded in veils and deceit, but he is also a protector. The Rose Elf is fragile and delicate, but he is also so ardent in his love and commitment. Alkaid is all of these things, because they can coexist without being contradictory. I won’t go into detail about Awakening, since it’s still a relatively new release and the story is best experienced for yourself, but his route there also ties in with this theme.

Alkaid’s worst fears stem from the dual nature he perceives in himself, the capacity for evil that he believes lurks dormant in his heart. He views good and evil as a binary, believing that they exist as a dichotomy within him, and this is exemplified by the black and white imagery he's often depicted with. Referring to his negative emotions and thoughts as his “other side,” Alkaid separates his good, ideal self from the side he believes he must suppress. 

Ironically, this demarcation between the parts of him that are acceptable and the parts that are not inevitably exacerbates Alkaid’s fears. The more people like his outward persona, the more he worries that they will scorn his true nature. He believes that other people like him for what he seems to be, but that they will not like him for who he actually is. He is deceitful, dangerous, disappointing, do they not see that? Do they not realise that the true him is not worthy of such praise or adoration?

The answer is no, because Alkaid is far harsher on himself than he deserves. He is human, and he is allowed to be multifaceted, to have different sides to him, to feel emotions that are positive and negative and the full gamut that runs in between. He is not a dichotomous binary, but a complex being that exists beyond good and evil.

This is where MC comes in. She sees Alkaid for who he is – all the sides he does not show others, and all the selves in disparate worlds across space and time. Beyond the idea of soulmates, her connection with him is that of 知己 (zhī jǐ) – to know someone as you know yourself – in how deeply and thoroughly she understands him. She perceives him, down to the depths of his soul, and she says: I love you, still. Not despite his flaws, or regardless of his shortcomings. Rather, it is an acceptance, encompassing every fibre of his being. I love you for everything you are.

There’s a line from Tian Guan Ci Fu (天官赐福; Heaven Official’s Blessings) that resonates with this idea: 对我来说，风光无限的是你，跌落尘埃的也是你。重点是'你'，而不是'怎样'的你。”To me, the one basking in infinite glory is you, and the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is ‘you,’ not the state of you.” Alkaid strives to only show his best sides to others, but MC embraces all his worst sides just as readily. He is terrified that she will leave when she realises he’s not like the person she initially thought she loved, but she stays because she sees all of him and cherishes him through it all. She loves him, because he loves so deeply, and he deserves to be loved in return.

So, happy birthday, Alkaid – you are worthy of the love you receive.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Thigh riding blurb -

(Jake Gyllenhaal)

~

Summary: You sit on Jake’s lap waiting for him to finish work. But it quickly turns into something more.

Warnings: Thigh riding (obv), kinda fluffy, “my girl”

Word count: 670 ish

Notes: This is super short, basically just a blurb. If ppl like it I’ll do a second part.

⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆

Jake’s eyes had been staring at the computer screen for what felt like hours. Answering emails about production plans and budget and things that’d probably never really make sense to you. 

You walked up to him and snaked your arms around his shoulders. “Sorry pretty, I’ll be with you soon”, he mumbled, not looking away from the screen. You huffed, showing your dissatisfaction. “But I miss you.” Jake looked up at your disappointed expression, his puppy eyes displaying how sorry he was. 

“You can sit with me while I work?” he suggested, not wanting you to feel lonely. You walked around and sat down on his thigh, nuzzling your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around him. You inhaled the scent of his perfume that sat behind his ear, humming happily. 

His eyes darted back and forth on his screen, he wanted to get done with this just as much as you did. He grew restless and, unconsciously, began shaking one of his leg up and down. As he often did when stressed or bored.

You quickly bit your tongue. Oh. His jean-clad thigh kept bumping against you. His busy schedule had left your needs neglected for the past few days, and it didn’t take long for you to grow a second pulse. You debated whether to say something or just stay quiet, though the decision turned out to be neither, as a quiet, weak moan slipped your lips. Jake stopped his movements and turned his neck to look at you. “What was that?” Though, he probably didn’t need to ask, judging by his shit-eating grin, as if he had never left puberty. You didn’t respond, you didn’t need to. You just sheepishly looked down, trying not to smile at his excited reaction. 

He leaned back in his chair to look at you better. “Hm? Did that feel good?” he asked and grabbed your hips, rolling you on his thigh. You inhaled sharply at the feeling. “Thought you had work?” you said as you kept rocking against him. The rough material of his jeans moved deliciously against your clothed clit. “Well, you distracted me,” he pointed out, rubbing circles on your hip with his calloused thumb. “Let’s make a deal, I know I’ve been busy lately. If you’re good, and don’t come before I’m finished answering this message, I’ll reward you. Yeah?” You nodded eagerly just hearing that last part. 

Jake looked back at his laptop and continued right where he left off, though his breathing was more strained than it was two minutes ago. You continued grinding down on him, sensitivity rising with each move. You hugged him tightly and focused all your power on not coming and ruining the deal you set up. The dark denim was now marked by a wet spot, a testament to your need. 

When his leg began bumping again your breath got caught in your throat, and you just knew he was smiling as smugly as ever. You bit down on his tshirt to keep yourself focused, letting your nails dig moon crescent marks into his shoulders. The angle of your hips had his thigh vibrating against your clit. “I can’t” you mumbled. Jake shushed you, typed his last words before wrapping his arms around you. One of his hands rested on your lower back, gently pushing you forward and encouraging you to fuck yourself on him.  

“It’s alright baby, I’m with you,” he shushed you and pulled your head up. “That’s it” he spurred you on. “Make a mess on me.” Your thighs clenched around his as your orgasm came shattering. You whimpered and whined as it hit you, while Jake stroked your back as it quickly rose and fell. 

Jake pulled you in, kissed you, before mumbling against your red-bitten lips, “did so good,” another kiss. Your body leaned against his, and you could feel his erection straining hard against his jeans. “Let me take care of my girl now.”

[shirefantasies]

Kissing Practice- Teen!Eowyn x F!Teen!Reader

Having been a part of Sapphic September is such an honor 😌 This idea has been in my head for a while, but it was well worth saving!

Marry well. Marry a proud, strong man who will keep you safe. Make them see you. Not too much, of course- have some respect. Your very existence seemed to teeter on a knife’s edge sometimes. At least, that was how some of the Riddermark’s matrons spoke. And would love not be so bad? Should you not take your chance to find it?

All you wanted was happiness. You could find that in your horse. In runs and fields and making daisy chains with your dearest of friends.

Eowyn.

How a smile across her countenance brightened a day well as the rising sun. How easily a day passed in her company. She, it seemed to you, would have nowhere near your struggles in finding a husband. Even if she was not niece to the king.

Indeed, the golden-haired girl possessed a fire and spirit you could not imagine but were honored to witness, even if sometimes you simply idled your days away weaving daisy chains out on the hills a ways from your township. She always had the most amusing stories of some courtly happening she was not privy to see, but had regardless. She cut thick switches for you two to laughingly duel and joust with, a welcome reprieve from her near-forcible nursing training.

Several of such duels had taken place that day, beading sweat upon your brows and bringing you both to flop upon the soft yet prickly-edged grass. Into the yellow flowers dotting the field that you had avoided crushing in your spar. In the end, you had won one of three matches, which was actually quite impressive for you. Eowyn was a natural fighter. She’d even pinned you beneath one foot upon winning the second match, a thrill running down your spine at the sight of such prowess. Or perhaps it was envy, for whatever it was was such a queer feeling you struggled to pinpoint what exactly had awoken in your chest. Perhaps you simply had never been so impressed. Perhaps Eowyn seemed much more likely to achieve happiness and freedom than you, and yet you could never resent her for it. You wanted her to have it even if it seemed unattainable to you. And how could you hold your own faults against her, especially when she had shown you such grace and understanding?

As if reading your mind, Eowyn reached then and took your fingers up in her hand, entangling them with hers.

“Are your thoughts weighing on you? If so, lay them on me. I can hold them. Or else I can just help you forget them entirely.”

Her sheer determination, the bright glow of those blue eyes, brought an affectionate smile to your face. Glancing down and peering back up through your eyelashes, you spoke.

“How will we truly know when we are ready to marry?” You asked.

Eowyn’s brows rose, but her answer seemed all but ready on her lips, her hand flexing momentarily around yours. “Nobody is truly ready until they are there at the precipice.”

“So wise,” you teased, head falling to her shoulder in laughter, “But I mean it! No man has ever thought of me! How can I be ready to be a wife? I- I’ve never kissed anyone!”

Your fingers loosened from Eowyn’s, falling instead into your lap. Though surely your dearest friend knew, these words felt like an admission. Words that some would say carried volumes of virtue, others would mock.

"Neither have I." Another admission, this one softer. Lighter. Sending a jolt of shared truth between you as she reached her newly freed hand into the grass and flowers. "I understand. So often they tell us to deny our feelings, but what fault is there? Sometimes it seems all they wish is to lock us away. Lock them away until the key is given to another.”

“But why should we?” You asked, conviction catching hold into a sudden flame in your heart spurred by Eowyn’s agreement, by the strength of will she always displayed. “We have the keys, after all, do we not? What if we practiced?”

Fair lips parting, Eowyn peered at you with hesitation. “Practiced?”

“So we can do it well,” you added quietly, “Whenever we want to.”

“Yes,” Eowyn agreed, a smile slowly playing onto her lips as she plucked up some delicate buttery blooms, “Why not?”

Her smile was like a rope tugging your body closer to hers, shifting you forward over the grass, legs rotating beneath the smooth volume of your skirt. Rising, your hand almost fell upon the point of her knee, but instead you settled for brushing over the petals of a flower before plucking it. Twisting it between your fingers as you gave one final glance Eowyn’s way.

Despite the deft weaving of flowers in her lap, her eyes locked firmly upon yours. Fluttered shut. This time, it was she who shifted, and closing your own eyes you eagerly met her in the negative space, exploding it with palpable light.

Eowyn’s lips were impossibly soft against yours, fearfully unmoving for a moment before the bliss that overtook you gripped your mind like a marionette and summoned more sparks, sparks Eowyn smiled and brought tinder to. Soaring sensations launched through your heart. This was far beyond how kissing a man felt in your mind. How, after all, could it feel more loving, more caring and intimate? The men you knew, including your best friend’s older brother, were rough and callous, trained only to their desires and a sort of camaraderie one could not bring to a marriage. Not well. Not usually. They were forces to acquiesce, not books of exploration to read and reply to.

Taking a bit of control, Eowyn pulled you closer, her hands winding gently about your waist as your bodies drew flush. Relishing in the warmth of her breath and body, you sighed into her embrace. This. This was exploration. This was give and take, hope and response. When your lips finally broke apart for air, you stayed together, foreheads still connected. This time, the string had tugged upon Eowyn, for she held you there as if you would fall away without her hand.

That deep sadness you saw echoing in her eyes had returned as she looked at you, peering, searching. “Do you now feel…practiced? Practiced at how to kiss a man?”

“No,” you answered immediately, shaking your head, “No, I do not. I feel only certainty that I shall never marry one. Can never.”

“You felt it too?” She breathed, her words tickling your cheeks with each warm exhale.

You gave a silent nod.

“Neither, I think, shall I.” Eowyn replied, breaking into a grin, eyes glistening with the faintest hint of unshed tears. Anguish, joy, relief, all contained therein. In her hands, she weaved another tiny yellow flower into her creation. “Why shall we be forfeit to the whims of men who work as hard as we for greater glory? Who keep us where they think we belong? Why should we not be happy with those who understand us? Who truly love us. That is a true union.”

“I- I do,” you stammered, “Understand you, that is. You are so much more than a watcher, a carer, a nurse even. You are a fighter, an artist in your own right. A friend. A woman unlike any I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Eowyn, I love you.”

“Then it is settled,” she said with a smile, slipping something onto your hand.

Spreading your left hand, you looked down to see the little ring of woven flowers encircling your finger.

“How will we-”

“Shh.” Finger to her lips, Eowyn cut you off. “However we can. Now, what say we practice some more until the day comes?”

Grin mirroring hers, you tucked your flower behind her ear, pushing it out of the way for another sweet rush of a kiss.

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[chishiyasbiscuits]

solitary! || banda x reader

[2.2k words.] [Warning: Banda Sunato - A literal serial killer. Smutty🤭 I heard people were down bad for this guy. Probably OOC, I was only experimenting. Public fucking, choking, slight degradation, slight non-con, orgasm denial, biting, fingering, dirty talk. I think that's all😬.]

Solitary confinement, what an interesting game for an interesting girl. I was more than accustomed to the concept of prison cells, and lonesome nights against drab, grey walls. I was comfortable with the types of people I'd find in such locations and knew, like the mildly intelligent person I was, that no one here was to be trusted. Nor did they, in turn, deserve my trust. That's not to say I couldn't pass on a fake, deceiving type of trust.

I hummed at my pickings. Groups of wavering souls, dividing into groups, lead simply by one being. They were sheep - Lost puppies. Born into this hellish scape just to follow. That, in itself, was a sign of weakness. Naivety and too much trust in one leader could spiral into consequences no man would desire.

"Tell me my suit and I'll say yours." A voice spoke, with much desperation. Yet in their tone, an unattractive amount of force rose to the surface. I lifted my brows, turning to face the man beside me. He appeared edgy. With dark, messy hair, that draped over his left eye like a patch.

"Bold." I stated simply. Flicking my gaze up his pathetic stance. "Are you really that desperate?" I questioned and the man lowered his head into a nod. "Answer this." I whispered, toning down my voice, and stepping closer to his form. He tensed, face disturbingly easy to read. "Why should I inform you?" I spoke, eyes dropping to his mouth.

"Uh." He appeared stuck. "I- I'll tell you yours? It's a good deal!" He seemed unsure, and his words wavered. I scoffed and took in his features. Scanning the regret in his one visible eye. "I can ask anyone in this room. You're not special." My face fell and I spoke with such an earnest tongue, his eye widened and he backed away from my figure. "I'm sorry ma'am. I'll ask someone else." He bowed, scurrying off in such a pathetic manner, I almost became disgusted. Though the obvious power I held over him seemed to lift my mood.

I watched, criticizing him as he asked a fellow participant. One that had previously caught my eye. Banda Sunato. A tall, broad-shouldered man. With a charismatic smile, and appealing puppy shaped eyes. He was handsome, gorgeous, pretty, but a fucking psycho. He was a serial killer, the causing death of four innocent women. Almost five..

Fortunately, the fifth famously escaped his grasp. Ultimately giving him in and enduring a harsh several months with him in court. He was sentenced to death, and the woman was pleased with her work, though that only ignited more anger in her jaws as she clenched them at the sight of her almost killer.

I was the fifth.

Banda freed a held-back frustration within my features. I loathed him, and the way he spurred butterflies against the lining of my stomach made me despise him more. A love-hate relationship with a convicted murderer.

I had been staring, and the thoughts spiralled until I caught his eyes. Amused, and gleaming against the light as he traced his hungry gaze across my skin. I was the one who got away. The one he had sworn to find, capture and kill if seen again.

He stretched out his neck and straightened his posture. All attention had been sweeped from the edge lord by his side, and now his undivided awareness was set on me. I swallowed, averting my gaze before settling on heading toward the cafeteria. There was no need to be afraid. I was safe, for now.

I hastily took my feet down the dark, dusted floors. Landing myself in a large room, packed from the ground to the ceiling in a wide variety of snacks. I composed myself. Slipping my hand from my side and sliding my fingers over a packet of cookies.

"How fortunate am I?"

"I don't want to speak to you." I replied bluntly. Fixing my hair as I plucked my desired snack from it's place. I spun on my heel, only to meet Banda's fiery gaze. Set on nothing but my face. My breath hitched and he took my arms, sticking me to the shelves, and trapping me with his chest and ribs. "Oh, but you wanted to speak on that night.." He whispered, a sense of teasing in his tone. I remained still, disgust reaching my expression as he lowered his head. Keeping eye-contact until he reached my jaw. "You were more than pleased to cry out my name."

He planted his soft lips on my skin. Kissing my jawline with such a delicacy, you wouldn't have thought he was a serial killer. A monster. "I wouldn't do that." I strained my voice, tilting my head away from his touch. Something burned against my face and I cursed at how obvious my flusterment had become. My chest twisted at the feel of his rough palms. Falling onto my hips, and holding me into place. He gripped harder, releasing a low chuckle against my ear. "Why's that, baby?" He found this fascinating. Almost hilarious.

There was no use in me fighting back, yet I couldn't let him know how much my body craved him. "You're pathetic, thinking I don't know how much you need me." He whispered sternly, lifting his head and setting his intense stare on my eyes. "You think I don't know what's going on down here?" He questioned, though it was rhetorical, as his left hand stroked my inner thigh, and suddenly his slender fingers trailed over the wet patch on my pants.

"I'm not scared of you." I managed out, through the gap in my lips. "No?" He asked. "You should be." Two of his fingers hooked my pants, and moved the fabric to the side. I gasped lightly at the contact of cold air, until my clit was met with his fingertip. Gliding between my folds and brushing over my sensitive heat. "You really should be." He repeated, but lower, against the skin of my neck. He licked at my throat, and sucked at the flesh, all while he slipped in one of his thin fingers. He curled it inside of me, provoking a soft moan from my lips. "You.." I froze, squeezing my eyes shut. "You can't kill me...weapons and murder are.." A chuckle was muffled by my damp skin, and Banda sunk a second finger inside of me. "Prohibited!" I half-whimpered, biting harshly on the flesh of my lip.

"I can still fuck you." He whispered, lips brushing over my neck. Leaving the ghost of a kiss. He raised his head and glared deep into my glossed over eyes. His lips twitched into a smirk - Sadistic, but undeniably attractive. He lifted his spare hand and set it gently on my cheek. "Y/n, y/n." He spoke my name and I bit down harder. Mistakenly pushing my hips down against his fingers. They pumped into me, luring my orgasm, as well as the truth of my fondness for him.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tilting and letting his head fall subtly to the side. "This won't be fun unless I fuck you into insanity." He stated. His tone soft, despite his words meaning. "So I'll only grant you a release when you admit how much you crave me."

My eyes widened. "Please.." I unknowingly whimpered, begging for him to cast me some sort of pleasure. He simply smirked at my desperate attempts, fingering me mercilessly until my eyes rolled, and my head slammed against the wooden frame of the shelves behind me. "Banda!" I cried, sweat forming on my brow. He swiped his tongue against his lips, removing his fingers and shoving the two digits between my lips. "Suck." He commanded, and I obliged. Swirling my tongue over his fingertips. Tasting my own arousal. He appeared content, slowly sliding his fingers from my mouth, and dragging down my lower lip. He dropped his hand and replaced it with his lips. Soft and rough. Moving against mine with such a deep passion, my body was again, heating at the interaction.

He pulled away and traced my pained features with his stare. How my eyes had became watery with the denial, and how my lips had became swollen at how hard I had been biting down. "Do you like the way I touch you?" He whispered gently, manoeuvring his hands to sit either side of my head. He pushed himself closer, and my inner thigh was greeted by his hard cock, clothed by his jeans. He rubbed himself over me, grinding into my soaking pussy. The soft fabric applied pressure to my clit, and the mere fact his twitching dick was beneath these confines made my stomach drop and twist. "Banda, please, I can't take this.." I admitted, whining as I gripped his broad shoulders. Steadying myself as I rocked on his boner. "Stop teasing me!" I cried out, whimpering and moaning at the feel of his warmth against me. Banda lowered his head, grunting against my earlobe. His hot breath hit my neck and I dropped my head back, parting my lips.

"I'll fuck you with my cock right here." He groaned, biting down on the skin of my neck. Leaving behind a fresh, purple mark. His teeth grazed the muscle and I clenched my thighs, brushing myself against his dick. "All I need is for you to admit what a whore you are for me." He spoke, breaths strangled as he sunk his teeth into my flesh. I let out a silent moan, opening my lips and closing my eyes.

"Fuck! I want you, fuck...please, Banda.." My voice lowered. "I don't care anymore, just fuck me."

I hadn't had to ask twice. His pants were already unzipped and his large cock had already been freed. He slipped the length into his hands, biting onto his lip as he pumped the shaft a few times. I composed myself, fingers curling over the edge of his shirt. I creased the fabric, and my nails dug into his clothed skin as I felt him enter. He sunk inside of me, grunting softly at the way my walls clenched and tightened around his much-wanted cock.

"Fuck." He whispered, pleasure and lust shrouding his mind. His breaths became ragged as he slid his hands up my body, across my exposed collarbone, and against my neck - Where he clamped his palms around my throat. Squeezing gently as he rutted into me. His thumbs rubbed, and circled my airways sensually. I was gasping, letting out strangled and strained sobs, mixed with hot, pleasured moans. "Ruin me...please." I let out an airy breath. Staring at his features through damp lashes.

Banda groaned, squeezing roughly around my throat as I choked. He filled me, sinking his cock into me until I began hyperventilating beneath his touch. "Fuck, like that." He almost whined, "Squeeze around my cock like that, baby." His breaths were airy and I moaned at the way he entered me. Fucking into me like an animal. I clenched around him, head going dizzy at both the lack of air and abundance of pleasure. "Banda!" I cried softly. "I'm gonna cum, please."

"Do you...think you're deserving of it?" He spoke, hesitating to catch his breath every few words. My eyes grew and I subtly struggled in his grip. "Banda!" I whined. He found that amusing, and lowly chuckled, inhaling sharply as my high arrived. He twitched and a short whimper fell from his wet lips. "Cum for me, baby." Banda whispered. "Cum on my cock."

He smirked, eyes filled with ecstasy, as he pounded into me. Bathing in the lewd moans I gifted him, and the way I recited his name. Crying it like a sacred prayer. "Banda, please!" I whined, squeezing my eyes shut as I gasped and came on his cock. He slipped into me, each thrust deeper than the last. His fingers tightened around my throat, and quite frankly, I felt as if I were on the verge of fainting. The pleasure was overwhelming.

"Fuck, Y/n." He let slip, moaning as his last thrust triggered his arrival. He pushed himself deep inside of me, slapping his pelvis and balls against me as he came. He filled me, breathing heavily as his cum spread against my insides. I gasped out a muffled moan. "Banda.." I whispered, eyelids fluttering to a close. My head tilted to the side and he sighed in pleasure. Taking his large palms and gripping my shoulders. I fell against his chest, too tired to lift my legs. "You love me." Banda whispered, pride filling his malicious smile. He fixed himself up before grasping my legs, and handling me into a bridal hold. "You wish.." I breathed out against his chest, smirking with the remainder of my energy. I could feel his heartbeat, and his chest shake as he chuckled.

Grey smeared past me in the form of cell walls. Though I couldn't be too sure. My consciousness drifted past me, circling over my dazed head like a sea.

"I see I haven't fucked you into insanity yet?" He breathed. An obvious smirk on his features. "Round two?"

[nerdypuddincup]

He wiped the blood from his face as he rose up from his knees. His eyes sunken into his scarred and radiated skull. But they burned with a fire that only the combined trauma of 200 plus years could amass. As he rose, his bones audibly cracked and snapped into place. His mutation did have several draw backs, but he was a hard bastard to kill. So, there was that at the very least.

With a flick of his wrist, his specialty rounds shot out from his modified revolver/shotgun hybrid. The bullet tore through the ar and the machine that had previously put him down was sent crashing down as a bunch of scrap metal.

A collection of blood had pooled in his mouth, which he promptly spat out. The sound of his spurs clinked on the metal floor of the Vault as he repositioned himself. His gun held up at eye level.

“What is this? Who the hell are you?!” A voice asked the Ghoul. A voice that he knew all too well.It was a voice that he had longed to hear. A voice that would whisper sweet nothings as they made love the first time, a voice so tired and yet so sweet when it cooed to their newborn daughter, and a voice that cut like a dagger when he heard it say America would nuke itself.

The sound of her voice rang in his ears, almost made him stumble more than the Mr. Handy ever could. She was older now, a few more deep lines, and hair gray. But compared to himself, she was quite well put together. And out here, in post-apocalyptia one was so much changed than they once were.

“Answer me goddamnit!” Demanded the woman in the Vault Suit demanded. The woman who at one point, had been his wife. Lifetimes ago. An entirely different world, not this strange alien dssert that they had come to know. There were trees, there was drinking water, there was laughter. Now, it was a shriveled caricature of what it once was. Much like the Ghoul who held the woman he knew but did not know him at gunpoint. There were so many things that he wanted to say. He wanted to shout, to scream, to cuss, he also wanted to embrace her, kiss her, and kick her and kill her. He gritted his teeth, focusing. He had been dreaming for a very long time. And he would not squander the opportunity now. He was a professional after all. He had rehearsed the line time and time again. Finally, the bounty hunter spoke. It was a voice etched with indignation that ran deeper than the lines on the woman’s face.

“I am the righteous hand of God.” He said, pulling back the hammer of his gun. “And I am the Devil that you forgot.” His eyes narrowed. “I told you one day that I’d be back, and Hell’d be comin’ with me.”

And with that, his finger pulled the trigger and a bullet ripped through the air.

[sunoosets]

banda x reader

[2.2k words.]

[Warning: Banda Sunato - A literal serial killer. Smutty🤭 I heard people were down bad for this guy. Probably OOC, I was only experimenting. Public fucking, choking, slight degradation, slight non-con, orgasm denial, biting, fingering, dirty talk. I think that's all😬.]

Probably one of my favs that I have done so far..

Solitary confinement, what an interesting game for an interesting girl. I was more than accustomed to the concept of prison cells, and lonesome nights against drab, grey walls. I was comfortable with the types of people I'd find in such locations and knew, like the mildly intelligent person I was, that no one here was to be trusted. Nor did they, in turn, deserve my trust. That's not to say I couldn't pass on a fake, deceiving type of trust.

I hummed at my pickings. Groups of wavering souls, dividing into groups, lead simply by one being. They were sheep - Lost puppies. Born into this hellish scape just to follow. That, in itself, was a sign of weakness. Naivety and too much trust in one leader could spiral into consequences no man would desire. 

"Tell me my suit and I'll say yours." A voice spoke, with much desperation. Yet in their tone, an unattractive amount of force rose to the surface. I lifted my brows, turning to face the man beside me. He appeared edgy. With dark, messy hair, that draped over his left eye like a patch. 

"Bold." I stated simply. Flicking my gaze up his pathetic stance. "Are you really that desperate?" I questioned and the man lowered his head into a nod. "Answer this." I whispered, toning down my voice, and stepping closer to his form. He tensed, face disturbingly easy to read. "Why should I inform you?" I spoke, eyes dropping to his mouth. 

"Uh." He appeared stuck. "I- I'll tell you yours? It's a good deal!" He seemed unsure, and his words wavered. I scoffed and took in his features. Scanning the regret in his one visible eye. "I can ask anyone in this room. You're not special." My face fell and I spoke with such an earnest tongue, his eye widened and he backed away from my figure. "I'm sorry ma'am. I'll ask someone else." He bowed, scurrying off in such a pathetic manner, I almost became disgusted. Though the obvious power I held over him seemed to lift my mood. 

I watched, criticizing him as he asked a fellow participant. One that had previously caught my eye. Banda Sunato. A tall, broad-shouldered man. With a charismatic smile, and appealing puppy shaped eyes. He was handsome, gorgeous, pretty, but a fucking psycho. He was a serial killer, the causing death of four innocent women. Almost five..

Fortunately, the fifth famously escaped his grasp. Ultimately giving him in and enduring a harsh several months with him in court. He was sentenced to death, and the woman was pleased with her work, though that only ignited more anger in her jaws as she clenched them at the sight of her almost killer. 

I was the fifth. 

Banda freed a held-back frustration within my features. I loathed him, and the way he spurred butterflies against the lining of my stomach made me despise him more. A love-hate relationship with a convicted murderer. 

I had been staring, and the thoughts spiralled until I caught his eyes. Amused, and gleaming against the light as he traced his hungry gaze across my skin. I was the one who got away. The one he had sworn to find, capture and kill if seen again. 

He stretched out his neck and straightened his posture. All attention had been sweeped from the edge lord by his side, and now his undivided awareness was set on me. I swallowed, averting my gaze before settling on heading toward the cafeteria. There was no need to be afraid. I was safe, for now. 

I hastily took my feet down the dark, dusted floors. Landing myself in a large room, packed from the ground to the ceiling in a wide variety of snacks. I composed myself. Slipping my hand from my side and sliding my fingers over a packet of cookies. 

"How fortunate am I?" 

"I don't want to speak to you." I replied bluntly. Fixing my hair as I plucked my desired snack from it's place. I spun on my heel, only to meet Banda's fiery gaze. Set on nothing but my face. My breath hitched and he took my arms, sticking me to the shelves, and trapping me with his chest and ribs. "Oh, but you wanted to speak on that night.." He whispered, a sense of teasing in his tone. I remained still, disgust reaching my expression as he lowered his head. Keeping eye-contact until he reached my jaw. "You were more than pleased to cry out my name."

He planted his soft lips on my skin. Kissing my jawline with such a delicacy, you wouldn't have thought he was a serial killer. A monster. "I wouldn't do that." I strained my voice, tilting my head away from his touch. Something burned against my face and I cursed at how obvious my flusterment had become. My chest twisted at the feel of his rough palms. Falling onto my hips, and holding me into place. He gripped harder, releasing a low chuckle against my ear. "Why's that, baby?" He found this fascinating. Almost hilarious.

There was no use in me fighting back, yet I couldn't let him know how much my body craved him. "You're pathetic, thinking I don't know how much you need me." He whispered sternly, lifting his head and setting his intense stare on my eyes. "You think I don't know what's going on down here?" He questioned, though it was rhetorical, as his left hand stroked my inner thigh, and suddenly his slender fingers trailed over the wet patch on my pants. 

"I'm not scared of you." I managed out, through the gap in my lips. "No?" He asked. "You should be." Two of his fingers hooked my pants, and moved the fabric to the side. I gasped lightly at the contact of cold air, until my clit was met with his fingertip. Gliding between my folds and brushing over my sensitive heat. "You really should be." He repeated, but lower, against the skin of my neck. He licked at my throat, and sucked at the flesh, all while he slipped in one of his thin fingers. He curled it inside of me, provoking a soft moan from my lips. "You.." I froze, squeezing my eyes shut. "You can't kill me...weapons and murder are.." A chuckle was muffled by my damp skin, and Banda sunk a second finger inside of me. "Prohibited!" I cried, biting harshly on the flesh of my lip.

"I can still fuck you." He whispered, lips brushing over my neck. Leaving the ghost of a kiss. He raised his head and glared deep into my glossed over eyes. His lips twitched into a smirk - Sadistic, but undeniably attractive. He lifted his spare hand and set it gently on my cheek. "Y/n, y/n." He spoke my name and I bit down harder. Mistakenly pushing my hips down against his fingers. They pumped into me, luring my orgasm, as well as the truth of my fondness for him. 

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tilting and letting his head fall subtly to the side. "This won't be fun unless I fuck you into insanity." He stated. His tone soft, despite his words meaning. "So I'll only grant you a release when you admit how much you crave me." 

My eyes widened. "Please.." I unknowingly whimpered, begging for him to cast me some sort of pleasure. He simply smirked at my desperate attempts, fingering me mercilessly until my eyes rolled, and my head slammed against the wooden frame of the shelves behind me. "Banda!" I cried, sweat forming on my brow. He swiped his tongue against his lips, removing his fingers and shoving the two digits between my lips. "Suck." He commanded, and I obliged. Swirling my tongue over his fingertips. Tasting my own arousal. He appeared content, slowly sliding his fingers from my mouth, and dragging down my lower lip. He dropped his hand and replaced it with his lips. Soft and rough. Moving against mine with such a deep passion, my body was again, heating at the interaction. 

He pulled away and traced my pained features with his stare. How my eyes had became watery with the denial, and how my lips had became swollen at how hard I had been biting down. "Do you like the way I touch you?" He whispered gently, manoeuvring his hands to sit either side of my head. He pushed himself closer, and my inner thigh was greeted by his hard cock, clothed by his jeans. He rubbed himself over me, grinding into my soaking pussy. The soft fabric applied pressure to my clit, and the mere fact his twitching dick was beneath these confines made my stomach drop and twist. "Banda, please, I can't take this.." I admitted, whining as I gripped his broad shoulders. Steadying myself as I rocked on his boner. "Stop teasing me!" I cried out, whimpering and moaning at the feel of his warmth against me. Banda lowered his head, grunting against my earlobe. His hot breath hit my neck and I dropped my head back, parting my lips. 

"I'll fuck you with my cock right here." He groaned, biting down on the skin of my neck. Leaving behind a fresh, purple mark. His teeth grazed the muscle and I clenched my thighs, brushing myself against his dick. "All I need is for you to admit what a whore you are for me." He spoke, breaths strangled as he sunk his teeth into my flesh. I let out a silent moan, opening my lips and closing my eyes. 

"Fuck! I want you, fuck...please, Banda.." My voice lowered. "I don't care anymore, just fuck me."

I hadn't had to ask twice. His pants were already unzipped and his large cock had already been freed. He slipped the length into his hands, biting onto his lip as he pumped the shaft a few times. I composed myself, fingers curling over the edge of his shirt. I creased the fabric, and my nails dug into his clothed skin as I felt him enter. He sunk inside of me, grunting softly at the way my walls clenched and tightened around his much-wanted cock.  

"Fuck." He whispered, pleasure and lust shrouding his mind. His breaths became ragged as he slid his hands up my body, across my exposed collarbone, and against my neck - Where he clamped his palms around my throat. Squeezing gently as he rutted into me. His thumbs rubbed, and circled my airways sensually. I was gasping, letting out strangled and strained sobs, mixed with hot, pleasured moans. "Ruin me...please." I let out an airy breath. Staring at his features through damp lashes. 

Banda groaned, squeezing roughly around my throat as I choked. He filled me, sinking his cock into me until I began hyperventilating beneath his touch. "Fuck, like that." He almost whined, "Squeeze around my cock like that, baby." His breaths were airy and I moaned at the way he entered me. Fucking into me like an animal. I clenched around him, head going dizzy at both the lack of air and abundance of pleasure. "Banda!" I cried softly. "I'm gonna cum, please."

"Do you...think you're deserving of it?" He spoke, hesitating to catch his breath every few words. My eyes grew and I subtly struggled in his grip. "Banda!" I whined. He found that amusing, and lowly chuckled, inhaling sharply as my high arrived. He twitched and a short whimper fell from his wet lips. "Cum for me, baby." Banda whispered. "Cum on my cock." 

He smirked, eyes filled with ecstasy, as he pounded into me. Bathing in the lewd moans I gifted him, and the way I recited his name. Crying it like a sacred prayer. "Banda, please!" I whined, squeezing my eyes shut as I gasped and came on his cock. He slipped into me, each thrust deeper than the last. His fingers tightened around my throat, and quite frankly, I felt as if I were on the verge of fainting. The pleasure was overwhelming. 

"Fuck, Y/n." He let slip, moaning as his last thrust triggered his arrival. He pushed himself deep inside of me, slapping his pelvis and balls against me as he came. He filled me, breathing heavily as his cum spread against my insides. I gasped out a muffled moan. "Banda.." I whispered, eyelids fluttering to a close. My head tilted to the side and he sighed in pleasure. Taking his large palms and gripping my shoulders. I fell against his chest, too tired to lift my legs. "You love me." Banda whispered, pride filling his malicious smile. He fixed himself up before grasping my legs, and handling me into a bridal hold. "You wish.." I breathed out against his chest, smirking with the remainder of my energy. I could feel his heartbeat, and his chest shake as he chuckled. 

Grey smeared past me in the form of cell walls. Though I couldn't be too sure. My consciousness drifted past me, circling over my dazed head like a sea. 

"I see I haven't fucked you into insanity yet?" He breathed. An obvious smirk on his features. "Round two?"