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reds-writings · 7 months

Text

the first of many and the start of something new

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: heyyy! another fic in the jealousy, jealousy universe! this is based on the mention of when the reader's left without a car after an accident and rust offers her a lift for the time being. just some more background building between the two and giddy feelings! hope you enjoy!

word count: around 2.8k

warnings: a smidgen of workplace sexism and mentions of reader having longer hair. that and cursing.

Today had been one shit day. Shittiest of shit days you’ve had the displeasure of encountering in a while actually. The power had gone out sometime in the night from some short burst of a storm so your alarm clock had gotten reset, resulting in you waking up nearly an hour later than your usual start time. It also meant that the dryer hadn’t finished drying all your work clothes for the week ahead leaving you to throw on whatever attire you had on the day before from your hamper that was decently wrinkled come this morning. The best you could do for your messy tresses was throw it up haphazardly into a banana clip you rummaged for in one of your bathroom drawers. You barely managed to slap on some blush to look a bit more lively and wipe any remnants of caked mascara from beneath your eyes you hadn’t bothered taking off last night.

God, you were gonna be so late.

You managed to keep a clean attendance record at work, rarely allowing yourself the opportunity to slip-up knowing you’d get chewed out more than anyone else by Quesada just cause. Yanking on your work boots and grabbing some of your gear you nearly managed to eat shit on the way out, not bothering to grab a bite to eat or even scrounge up some coffee. You prayed today was one of those days where Rust carried out his ‘secret’ routine of setting out your coffee before you’d show up to work. Your weathered bronco was low on gas but you’d have just enough to make it to work and hopefully back to whatever gas station nearby on the way home. Peeling out of the driveway like a bat out of hell and settling yourself on the main road your eyes kept flying nervously to the dashboard’s clock. Each ticking minute caused the buzzing anxiety in your gut to sink deeper and deeper.

You checked your frazzled appearance in the rear-view mirror, failing to notice the intersection coming up ahead. Your heart just about leaped into the next state over when you barely managed the time to notice the rapidly closing gap between you and the car stopped in front of you. Slamming on your brakes, your car tires squealed to a stop and your front bumper found itself barely a hairsbreadth away from ramming into the vehicle ahead. Your relief was short-lived when the car behind you, unfortunately, didn’t have enough leeway to break at your sudden halt and collided with your car, causing you then to bump the car in front of you. The force of it had you near-whipping forward like a ragdoll, making you bump your head on the steering wheel. The separate trilling of respective car horns only added to your steady-growing headache.

You could just about cry.

By the time you actually made it the department after the mess that was trading insurances and getting your car towed to whatever repair shop that was in close proximity to the area of the accident you looked like you’d been dragged to hell and back. On top of taking one of the worst bus rides of your life, someone managed to spill their coffee across your lap at a harsh stop. The defeat weighing on your poor bones was apparent to everyone on the floor that took in the sorry state of your figure. You mustered up a mumbled greeting to the receptionist, feet dragging their way towards your desk. The small bruise on your brow throbbed increasingly, especially when that prick Geraci decided he’d make a snide pass at you as you trudged in.

“You’re gonna give folks around here a mean fright walkin’ around lookin’ like that, girl.”

“Do me a favor and go dine on some dick, Geraci.” You snapped without even looking at the now angrily flushing man. Rust and Marty sat in their respective spots, one eyeing you with slight shock and the other with something unreadable as per usual.

“Now just what happened to you, missy?” Marty started in on you as you tossed your stuff down.

Eyeing the anticipated presence of the daisy mug on your desk, you reached for it to take a sip of your awaiting coffee only to grimace at the realization that it was well cold and stale by now. Price of being late. Before you could grumble out a response your other consequence in the form of Quesada barked out your name to order you into his office.

You just couldn’t catch a damn break.

Closing your eyes and exhaling slowly to steady your spiking nerves, you set the mug down harshly before turning on your heel and stalking over to the Major’s office. The door promptly slammed shut behind you both, leaving everyone on the floor frozen for only but a moment before they resumed their individual tasks.

Marty let out a low whistle, shaking his head before turning back to some files, “Guess we should head on out now. She ain’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

Rust didn’t say a word as he sat fixated on you getting reprimanded to no end by your fuming superior.

The dusky hues of oranges and violets had long since burned in the sky by the time you finished with the deskwork Quesada had relegated to you for being late as well as your snappish attitude aimed at him while he had lectured you. The most grating forty minutes of your life that you’d never have the luxury of getting back. Your spine ached from being hunched over for hours on end and your retinas stung from overused strain. The slow steps of Rust's shoes sounded on the linoleum floors of the department, causing you to glance up and notice that Marty wasn’t by his side. Your gaze flew to the clock to see that it was nearing 7:40, shit, it was time to get going.

You’d have to walk back if there weren’t any other buses in service. Fuck.

“You done for the day?” Rust rasped out as he fiddled with a cigarette.

“Just about. Have half the sense to wanna throw these all over Quesada’s office for him to have to organize his damn self but that won’t do me no good after today.” You leaned back to release a few cracks in your vertebrae.

“Probably not, no.” He eyed your tired form.

“You guys find anything useful today?” You came back forward and got up to collect all your things. Mind busy with hoping and praying there’d still be a bus around this time.

“Just a whole bout of nothin’. At least for right now that’s what it’s seeming like.”

“Bummer. Sorry I got held up and couldn’t come with ya.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

A pause. Then,

“Your car ain’t out front.” His acute observation caused your shoulders to slump.

“Yeah. Part of the day's neverendin’ woes. Got into one hell of a fender bender.”

“Reckon that was the causation of that nasty bruise. How’re you gettin’ home?” It came out more as a slight demand than a curious question, making your head snap towards him. Your face was starting to feel hot in embarrassment.

“I was just gonna see if there was a bus or somethin’. Seems Marty rushed on home otherwise I would've wrangled his ass for a ride. I might just have to walk I guess…I dunno.” You shrugged, feeling yourself shrink under his calculating gaze.

“You ain’t walkin.”

Rust grabbed his keys and waited for you to finish fixing up your desk. It took you a second too long to realize he was implying you’d be getting a ride from him. The thought of being with him in his truck alone had you feeling all sorts of funny. You’d never really spent time together one-on-one and you were terrified of acting like some bumbling fool in his presence without Marty there to break the ice.

You wordlessly gathered up the rest of your things and made the move to follow him out of the building. The balmy air did nothing to ease the growing tension you felt in your body. You smiled at him shakily in gratitude as he opened the passenger door for you. Once you’d wobbled your way up into the truck he shut the door then rounded the vehicle to get in on his side. The rumble of the Ford’s engine was the only saving grace of the awkward silence that had settled between you both as he drove the somewhat lengthy distance to your house.

“Thank you. For drivin’ me. You didn’t really have to.” Your unconfident tone broke the quiet. You cringed slightly at how you sounded. Most people didn’t have you as nervous as he did. Whether that be because of the sheer power he carried with him at all times or the sharpness of his personality you didn’t know.

“It wouldn’t necessarily be wise to have you out walkin’ in the dark for some odd amount of miles. I wouldn’t trust anyone around this wasteland to leave you be.”

It did feel silly now thinking you’d be able to make it however many miles out by your lonesome. At night no less. You would’ve been a walking target and then some.

“What happened today? You don’t strike me as the…unorganized type.” Rust continued, gaze flitting over you in slight caution. If you had half the mind you’d be plenty self-conscious to be caught looking this unkempt around him. Your raging exhaustion just so happened to save you from the ridiculous notion as you rubbed your bleary eyes.

“That storm last night had my power go out so my alarm clock was fucked this mornin’. Same is to be said for my dryer that didn’t finish its job with what was supposed to be all my work clothes for the week. Then the accident. Banged up my car pretty good so it’s gotta sit in the shop for God knows how long, they couldn’t give me an estimate. I took the bus then got shit spilled on me. The rest of the sad third act you saw yourself.”

“Can’t say it wasn’t amusin’ seeing Geraci’s punk ass go bright as a tomato.” His chest vibrated with a dry chuckle and it had you feeling even warmer.

“I ain’t ever liked him. Ass kissin’ piece of shit. Likes shittin’ on me every chance he gets just like most around there. I could’ve thrown somethin’ at Quesada’s thick ass skull with the way he spoke to me earlier.” You huffed,

Rust shook his head slightly, “If it’s any consolation he don’t like me much either.”

“For different reasons. You’re more…prickly- forgive me for sayin’. I bust my ass and I ain’t ever gonna be respected like I should.”

“In a place like this, can’t say that’s much of a promised future.” He didn’t seem to take offense to the ‘prickly’ comment.

There was another pocket of silence before you sounded again.

“I’m gonna be honest, if it weren’t for your truck parked outside everday I wouldn’t think you were able to drive.”

His responding look was that of slight incredulity but let you go on anyway, “I’m only sayin’ because anytime you, Marty, and I have to drive out somewhere you never really get behind the wheel. I was convinced you couldn’t operate a vehicle the first month or so in.” You snickered at the ridiculousness of the previous thoughts you'd conjured up involving the man next to you. It was far-fetched that one as serious and experienced as him just couldn’t drive.

“Glad to see how little faith you had in my capabilities.”

“Nawww, it wasn’t like that, don't worry.” You grinned at him.

“It’s my synesthesia mostly. Why I don’t drive. Sometimes it’s too overwhelmin’ to where I don’t always trust myself behind the wheel.” He gave his explanation and you felt that familiar twinge in your chest you’d had been feeling in his presence over the passing weeks. You weren’t too familiar with his condition but from what he’d mentioned here and there it didn’t sound all that pleasant.

“Makes sense. Seems scary to have from what you’ve said.”

“You find yourself getting used to it after a while. I’ve built up the sense of knowing what’s really occurrin’ versus what ain’t.” He sniffed, sounding nonchalant at the confession. It fascinated you just how we went about handling the cards he’d been dealt so far in life. If it were you in his shoes you were sure you would’ve gone AWOL by now. As you pulled up to your address, you felt the sting of disappointment that this had all swiftly found its end. It surprised you at how quickly time flew by during the car ride, realizing this was the most semi-lighthearted and continuous conversation that had ever flowed between you two. It wasn’t much of a chore to listen to him speak as Marty made it out to be. The difference could also be found in the fact you just regarded Rust in a different light than others happened to.

The engine cut and the only sounds offered were that of the cicadas and frogs somewhere out in the lush foliage surrounding your house.

You brushed some hair from out of your face and met his eyes again, “Thanks... again. I appreciate it a lot.”

He just nodded, “What time d’ya usually head out of here in the morning.”

You froze. Was he really offering up himself again? Completely and willingly? For you?

“You don’t have to! I’ll bug Marty about it or see if my sister can help me out-”

“What time?” The finality of it had you even more stunned. It was a disorienting sensation to think that Rust Cohle just might tolerate you more than he did most.

He more than just tolerated you but you didn’t need to know that just yet.

“6:30ish. I can pay you for gas o-or-”

“Just be up and ready to go.” Was all he said and that was it on the matter. After a moment or two, you brought yourself out of your awe and collected your stuff. You opened the door to head out of the truck but not before turning to him and placing a hand on his forearm lightly, the first time you’ve ever acted on any affectionate inclinations in regards to him. He stiffened almost imperceptibly but didn’t jerk away.

“I’m serious. Thank you.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.” Steel blue stayed focused on the windshield ahead.

“That ain’t like me. Coffee or breakfast’s on me tomorrow. Whatever my savior wants he’ll get. It’s the least I could do. My poor legs and I can live to see another day thanks to the benevolent nature of Rustin Cohle-” You were cut off by the scoff of your partner, inciting a small fit of laughter from yourself.

“Sorry, can't keep things too serious. You could use that every once in a while, y’know.” You patted his shoulder before hopping out.

His sights were then set on you as you shut the door and you let yourself bathe in the feeling of it for just a hair longer than you should’ve. Yeah, you were beyond flustered from the day’s events. Hair in a severe state of frizz, bruise having bloomed a bit further along your browbone, and clothes in a state of mess he’d never seen on you before. But it just made you all the more endearing. Especially with that ever-blooming smile of yours. It was becoming more evident that there was little you could do that would have Rust judging or turning you away. He didn’t know what to make of it but he's sure now that he’s offered up himself as your chauffeur for the time being he had to settle with the fate that things wouldn’t be getting any easier for his withered soul.

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow mornin’.”

“That you will.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

“G’night, Rust.”

The turn of the engine had the spell you’d been enraptured in dissipating and you stepped away from the truck. He lifted a palm signalling his departure before making his way back down the road and out of sight. A heavy exhale escaped the tightening prison of your chest as your mind swam at the whole interaction. Every little detail about him had you becoming increasingly attached much to your distaste. A cold shower and ridding the smell of his addictive cologne from your memory sounded like more than a good idea right about now. Anything to run these thoughts of your very emotionally unavailable coworker out of the recesses of your brain.

This was going to be a lot of work.

#rust cohle #rust cohle x reader #rust cohle imagine #reds-writings #true detective #true detective season 1 #true detective imagine #matthew mcconaughey

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fluffymaxsworld · 9 months

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taking advantage of your most recent post 😈😈

simon w/ soaps little sister? (nsfw or fluff!!!)

-🐏

GIRL.

my secret kink😍

simon riley x johnny’s sis!reader

[alcohol, smut, fluffy? no angst tho, p in v, creampie, little aftercare, car sex]

first encounter something like this:

he’s just so shocked that JOHNNY’s sister is that good looking. he stares a few minutes at johnny and then at you, he even wants to ask if you were adopted.

and you were surprised too, and not because your brother had a friend!!, but because he was so handsome too. he had dirty blonde hair and blue/gray eyes, you couldn’t recognize which color precisely, and was tall, oh god, at least 6’4.

as soon as johnny left you two alone he started blabbering, talking nonsense because poor boy he never met a girl like you!! :(( and he doesn’t know what to do but you (luckily) stop him and quickly give him your number (“yeah, if johnny gets drunk…” was your excuse. realistic, good job).

he just smiled and accept it but he wanted to kiss you so so bad :,( he never used that much of self control in the military!!

unfortunately johnny interrupted that awkward moment you were sharing and you couldn’t pin over each other for much longer. in fact, they had to leave for another mission, leaving you alone :(

/// 2 months later ///

“y/n? is that you?” his raspy voice was on the other end of the phone. you could sense the alcohol from his tone.

“yeah. what’s up?” you answered. you could barely hide the excitement in your voice as you heard simon calling you after what seemed like years.

“johnny’s drunk”

oh. he actually believed the excuse…

“that asshole… send me the address, please. i’m coming.” you sighed and reached for your winter boots, dressing up casually.

“yeah, thank you...” he replied. something told you he was quite drunk too.

a few minutes later you arrived at the address. it was a comfortable, small military bar, or something like that. it was frequented by militaries and maybe it was just an unspoken rule.

simon was holding johnny in front of the entry, the greenish lights hitting his beautiful lashes and you remembered why you liked him so much when you met him.

“simon! hey, i’m here!” you waved at him, opening the car and quickly coming over to help him put inside johnny.

“thank you beautiful…” he mumbled drunkenly, stroking gently your hair. his breath smelled like scottish beer and smoke (so hot).

you flushed slightly but decently at his comment, used to the scenes your brother made when he was intoxicated.

you lend your arm to johnny and he managed to sit straight on his seat.

“do you need a ride?” you asked simon.

“that’ll be nice.” he answered.

you expected him to enter the car, but he subtly reached for your hand, grabbing it gently. he stroked your knuckles and you blushed even more, now that wasn’t something your brother did when he was drunk.

you stared into his eyes, finally have a chance to decide whether they were blue or grey. he stared back, and the tension was palpable. you guessed your brother was dead asleep because he’d probably tease the shit out of you if he saw the scene.

“you’re pretty…” he broke the silence. with his free hand he touched softly your cheek, moving his thumb under your left eye.

“thank y-”

you couldn’t finish the sentence, his lips were already on yours. he was devouring you like the last meal on earth, leaving your breathless. the kiss was tender yet hungry, it lasted a few seconds that felt like hours.

when he pulled you away he looked more drunk that he was before, his pupils were big and heart shaped. he didn’t seem to realize who he kissed, who was you, johnny’s sister.

but that was fine, and you were fine with it. you checked your brother, asleep like you guessed, and with a swift move you took him out and called a cab.

“he’s a military, he can look for himself” simon said and you trusted him (you’ll definitely regret this in the morning).

you took his hand and ran towards your car, shoving him inside and lean for another kiss, eager this time.

you drove till a empty spot, easy to find in the middle of nowhere, and turning off the engine and sitting on his lap.

“please tell me this isn’t a drunk mistake” you whined, already squeezing your thighs together.

“it isn’t… i shouldn’t toy with a girl like ya…” he groaned, eager to kiss you again and trailing wet kisses along your jaw.

you felt everything but right, he was your brother’s best friend after all… but you couldn’t care less, the thought of this military man completely head over heels for you was too suffocating.

you unbuttoned your shirt and took it off, showing him your bra and hell it turned him on more than anything. you could feel already his bulge pressing against your pants, hungry for your touch.

“fuck…” he groaned, shifting his body searching for friction.

you reached for his belt and unbuckled it, taking the pants off in one quick move.

his boxers were slightly wet, dripping from precum, and the view was intoxicating.

you decided to skip foreplay, you needed him inside you before the reality hit you.

“please…” you murmured, taking off the boxers and staring at his throbbing dick. pinky tip and the thickest shaft you’ve ever seen. such a pretty dick.

you looked at him one last time, searching for any signs of regret. as you saw nothing, you slowly pressed his tip on your folds, moaning out of pleasure.

and he wasn’t a silent man, no, he was groaning and crying for your pussy. he had a hand on your left breast and sucking on the right nipple.

you took him all in a fast movement, feeling full of him.

“shit… such a tight little pussy…” he whined, with his thumb stretching you out.

“fuckin’ hell simon…” you stared to move, to jump on his cock and feeling that warm sensation in your stomach.

when he found your g-spot you started crying out of pleasure, clenching around his length. it took him everything he had to not come right away, but you felt he was growing thicker and hotter inside you.

“princess you’re going to make me come already…” he groaned, buckling his hips.

you arched your back, moaning loudly. you felt that familiar feeling building in your stomach.

“simon… i’m…” you said before clenching tightly around his shaft and holding on the car roof.

you came a few seconds later and he followed you right after, filling your womb with his semen.

“oh shit..” he said before slamming your hips onto his dick and filling you even deeper.

as soon as he caught his breath again he gently lifted you up, looking for anything to clean the mess. he found in his pants a napkin, placing it softly on your sex, wiping away the come and the sticky stuff on your thighs.

you smiled, staring deeply at that man.

“hey… what about we go out sometimes?” you asked him. you weren’t sure if he thought that was a one night stand, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

he looked up, you could sense he wasn’t much drunk anymore, and with a bright smile he nodded.

“i’d love that. friday?”

you sighed in relief, smiling back, “friday sounds perfect”

💥💥💥💥

woooooooo it’s been awhile since i wrote smut :))

anyways thx for the request i think this is one of my favorites yet!! i might do a fluffier pt2 of the date? and maybe when soap discovers it

tell me what u think and if you got ideas for pt2!!<3

#ghost x reader #cod simon riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #cod ghost #request

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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Clothes make the man

AN: There is no plot here. This is just porn. I have nothing to say for myself other than this is Kai's (@lovelyhan ) fault, and this outfit has haunted me for three years now. I had to get this out of my system. I resisted with the Daddy kink this time around but, this is still me largely pushing my 'Joshua is kinkier than I feel like people give him credit for' agenda so. Now I'll disappear in shame and embarrassment *finger guns.*

Synopsis: You don't expect to feel so strongly about one of Joshua's stage outfits.

Heads up: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, established relationship, Dom! Joshua, Sub! Reader, mentions of previous thigh riding, Reader mentions boot humping in passing once, scent kink if you squint, hand and arm kink of sorts (Reader is really into Josh's hands and arms), praise (f. receiving), pet names, Reader has an oral fixation, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers, hints of a size kink, dirty talk, mirror sex, nipple play (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), risky sex/public sex (they fuck in Josh's dressing room and are vaguely worried about being caught), vaginal fingering (f. receiving), mostly clothed sex, me pushing my big dick! Josh agenda, unprotected piv sex, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers post fingering, it's insinuated that Reader is a masochist, rough sex, dacryphilia kink, creampie and Reader being plugged afterwards.

Word count: 3499

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The cool air from the air conditioner prompts you to tug your cardigan closer to you as you continue to catch up on your scrolling for the day while you wait for Joshua. He texted you that he'd likely be finished with his group shoot for the day in the next half an hour or so and, that you could just wait in his dressing room before the two of you head home.

He finds you completely engrossed with your phone when he does eventually finish up for the day. His lips ticking up in amusement since you still haven't registered his presence.

"Is what's on your phone really more important than your precious boyfriend? I'm hurt," he says with a faux pout to catch your attention. Leaning against his dressing room door.

You pointedly choose to ignore his chuckle when his voice quite literally causes you to jump in your seat. You turn to face him sheepishly, "Hi, Josh. I'm sorry I didn't realise-"

The words die on your tongue in an instant when you take in what he's wearing.

His shirt accentuates his shoulders in a way that is wholly unnecessary. Worse still, his arms are on full display for you to drink in. Muscles flexing and veins visible while he stands there with his arms crossed. And god, his pants. They all but force your eyes to focus on how they flatter his thighs, and you're suddenly hit with a barrage of memories. Memories of Josh flexing them underneath you while you hump them in an attempt to cum. An amused gleam in his eyes as he watched you because you both knew you'd never cum the way you wanted to.

Is it horrible to admit that even his boots are so attractive? In the very deep, private parts of your mind, you think he'd like the idea of watching you grind against them to get off. Maybe if you ever find the courage, you'll ask him.

"Are you okay?"

You're broken out of your thoughts by Joshua's concerned voice. Blinking, you focus back on him only to find his handsome face twinged with confusion and worry. The way his inky hair sticks to said handsome face isn't helping your conundrum, but you do feel guilty for worrying him when you're spiralling over him in one of his stage outfits.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry, I just got a little in my head there."

"In your head? About what?" Dread coils in your gut at the question. You're determined to look anywhere but, directly at him. Fiddling with your phone in your hands while your mind races to think of a half decent answer.

"Um- just school. You know, this semester's been pretty busy. Plus, I have a few assignments due in the next month, so I've been trying to figure out how to schedule my calendar around them. Then it'll be the holiday, but you know never too soon to start preparing -" You're rambling. You know you are, and so does Josh, but the words continue to tumble out of you.

"You're a terrible liar," he interrupts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day. To your absolute horror, he's moving closer to you until he's intimately in your personal space. Oh, this is worse. So, so much worse. Because his scent invades your senses too and, embarrassment warms your face when it dawns on you that you're wet.

His large, warm hand cups your jaw and gently nudges your face up until you meet his intense gaze. His thumb strokes your cheek gently when and, you so badly want it in your mouth instead, but your mouth feels as though it's been stapled shut.

Dread, anticipation and desire form a lethal concoction in your veins when Josh's face shifts from concern and confusion to understanding. The corners of his plump lips lifting up in way that muddles your mind further and causes more of your wetness to trickle onto your panties.

"Oh, I get it now," he rumbles with a laugh that's far too amused, "If you wanted me, you could've just said so." You suddenly find his face mere centimetres from your own with hold on your face keeping you from shying away. Even after being with him for all this time, you still find it difficult to meet his gaze head on occasionally. Maybe you're afraid he'll see just how truly far gone you are for him. Maybe his eyes will finally devour you whole and, you don't know if you'd ever be able to come back from that.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," he coaxes gently, his face softening momentarily while his thumb drags along your bottom lip. Blinking up at him you finally find your voice again and the words rush out of you, "I'm here. I-I want it. Want you."

Kissing Josh is perhaps one of your favourite activities to partake in with him. His lips are so soft and, even as his tongue teases its way into his mouth, he takes his time. Determined to rile you up just with his mouth and his firm grasp on your face. Your hands reach up for him, feeling like you'll be driven to madness if you don't touch him somehow, somewhere, anywhere. Your hands find purchase on his massive biceps. Hisses pressed against your lips when your nails bite into his skin.

A whine leaves you before you can stop it when he pulls away from you, looking down at you through dark bangs and lidded eyes. "Can we go home?" You ask, your panties starting to cling to you uncomfortably just from this godforsaken outfit and some kissing. You're not sure how much longer can take not having him.

"What's got you so riled up?" He asks instead, genuine curiosity colouring his tone. You elect not to give him a direct response, "Can't I just think my boyfriend is hot?"

"Oh, you absolutely can and, while I'm flattered, we both know me being just hot doesn't get you nearly this worked up," he retorts, leaning down once more to lightly kiss along your neck. His hands shoving your cardigan from your shoulders until it pools around you. You bite back the whimpers that so desperately want to fall from you with every brush of Joshua's lips against your sensitive skin. Your thighs rubbing together in search of any semblance of relief.

"Come on, be a good girl and tell me," he mutters, one of his large hands dragging down your body until it rests a little too high on your upper thigh. "Or do you want me to get it out of you another way?"

"Your outfit," you blurt out immediately, you know Josh's mind is always coming up with frighteningly inventive ways to punish you and, you don't think you could handle that today. Not with how you're barely keeping it together as it is, "You- You look good. Really, really good."

That makes him take pause, "Really? That's it?" He doesn't sound judgemental or as though you just told him the most idiotic thing the world. Just... genuinely surprised.

"Yes," you whine, "Now can we go home please?"

You nearly choke on your spit when he resumes his assault on your poor throat, and his hand finds itself between your thighs, automatically spreading for him because of course they do. Something guttural and from the depths of his chest hit your ear when his fingers brush against your slick panties. Prompting your hips to chase the friction, tightening your hold on him as well.

"Fuck. Fuck, you weren't kidding," he breathes as though you've completely knocked the wind from him. However, he's gone from your body in instant, "Shua, where are you-"

Your question is answered when you see him lock the door only to stock back over to you, his erection testing the durability of these pants and somehow making them look more appealing. Saliva pooling in your mouth while your walls clamp down borderline painfully around nothing.

"My poor baby. I don't think you'll last until we get home," he says, his thumb dragging along your bottom lip. His eyes darken further when he eases it into your mouth, and you suck immediately. Just happy to have anything occupying your mouth.

"I'll just take care of you here. Up," he commands, stepping away from you to give you space to rise to your feet. You blink up at him but when you're only met with an eyebrow raise, you stand up immediately. Letting your cardigan, phone and bag rest on the chair as your boyfriend looms over you. The intent in his eyes more than enough to quicken your heartrate and stiffen your nipples under your casual dress.

"So you do know how to listen," is all the warning you receive before you're all but, shoved against his vanity. One of his hands fondling your breast over your dress while the other drags you by the hip until there's no space between the two of you. His erection burns against your stomach even through the layers of your clothing. Just as heavy with intent.

You moan into his mouth with every brush and squeeze of his hand over your breast, electricity shooting straight down your spine to your clit with every one of his touches but, it's not enough. You want to feel him.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, Joshua has always had a knack for being six steps ahead of you, you find yourself facing your reflection in his mirror. You already look like a mess. Eyes glazed and a little watery with your lips bruised from how thoroughly he's been kissing you. The straps of your dress barely cling to your shoulders, and your breasts jiggle with every heaving breath you take.

A gasp flies from your lips and you hold onto his vanity when Josh presses himself, more specifically his erection, against you once more. You think you may lose your mind if he doesn't just fuck you. You're sure you're more than wet enough to take him by now. You're not quite sure whether you want him to keep his clothes mostly on or, touch his soft skin.

"You're distracted again," he tuts against your shoulder before pressing featherlight kisses to all of the skin he can reach there. A stark contrast to the way his hands roughly tug down the straps of your dress, your breasts free and goosebumps rising when they're met with the cool air of his dressing room.

He meets your gaze in the mirror as he touches them once again. A choked whimper gracing his ears when he barely drags the tips of his fingers over your nipples, "Maybe I'm doing a bad job keeping your attention," he pouts but, that look is in his eyes. Your knees nearly buckle when he tugs on them more harshly this time, soothing them with gentle rubs that make you feel dizzy.

"Is this why you didn't wear a bra today?" The drop of a few octaves in his voice significantly worsen how empty you are in this very moment, "So I'd touch and play with your tits?"

"What a slut you are."

His words coupled with his stupid, stupid, skillfull hands force a drawn out mewl from your throat. Your foggy mind desperately trying to find any words to respond to him.

"Josh- Shua, no I- I didn't think I'd take long to pick y-you up. So, I didn't wear one," you whimper in response after a particularly harsh tug. He puts on a show of humming in thought as though he's not still pinching and toying with your nipples, tears building in your eyes with ever minute he's not inside of you.

"I don't know," he drawls, the air in your lungs stopping as one of his hands snakes its way down your dress until it reaches the apex of your thighs, "Something tells me you didn't wear one so I'd just have to bend you over and fuck you."

If everyone could only see their sweet Joshua now. Spilling filth against your skin while his hand assesses how wet you are and his hips shallowly grind against the swell of your ass for a bit of friction. They'd likely have an aneurism.

A moan far louder than you intended bounces off the walls of his dressing room when his fingers find your clit over your ruined panties. His eyes shutting briefly as if to collect himself before he continues drawing steady circles. You've never been more grateful for the table in front of you because you're sure you would've collapsed into a heap on the floor if you didn't have it to support you.

"Not too loud," he mutters into your skin with a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. His hand slipping into your panties to touch you a directly, his throaty groan combining with the moan that you couldn't quite bite back in time when as his fingers tease your wet folds. Your eyes screwing shut as they shallowly dip in and out of your neglected hole.

His hands still, and that prompts you to open your eyes, confused as to what made him stop. "None of that. I want you to see. I want you to watch," he says, his reflection holding your gaze once more. His other hand drifting to hold your jaw in place. Not too harshly but, with enough pressure that you know better than to move.

Whether as a reward or because he simply wants to, eventually sinks a thick finger into you. The stretch prompts a jumbled mess of gasps and whimpers from your chest. Your eyes barely remaining open with the relief of finally having something inside of you.

"There you go," he groans against your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake, "That's my baby."

The angle is a little awkward but, your hips chase the curls of his finger regardless. The need to shove down all of your noises of pleasure becoming increasingly challenge with every exploitation of your weaknesses Josh uses against you.

You don't receive much of a warning this time when he eases a second finger into you, this time the stretch is a little more than you can handle, "J-Josh," you choke out, your wetness dripping down his palm.

"My slutty girl you're doing so good," he coos, kissing the back of your neck while he grinds his erection against your ass, "Taking my fingers so well. Can't wait to feel you on my cock."

That causes a more visceral reaction from you. Your walls clamping down on his long fingers as one of your hands grabs his forearm, "Please. Pl-Please. Shua please. I-I want it please," you couldn't feel embarrassed if you tried. Joshua tended to have that effect on you.

He rests his head against your shoulder briefly, "Gimme a second," he says, the dip of his voice sending shudders down your spine. You cringe a little when he pulls his fingers out of you, your wetness coating them generously. You watch him unbutton and unzip his pants with baited breath, "Can you- can you keep your clothes on?"

Joshua meets your gaze with his eyebrows raised before that knowing look returns to his face. He laugh would sound beautiful if you his cock wasn't minutes from being inside of you and you weren't dripping onto his dressing room floor, "Sure."

Your gratitude comes out as a strangled whimper when the fat head of his cock prods at your slick entrance, "I don't know if I should be offended that you're this wet because of some clothes and fingering," he mutters. You couldn't respond to him even if you tried. Your mind just occupied with the idea of finally being filled by him.

"Cock drunk already huh?" He muses, meeting your gaze briefly before glancing down to watch himself split you open. His quiet moans being drowned out by your much, much more vocal ones. You're not sure you'll ever quite grow accustomed to his first thrust. Especially given the rush and your impatience, his slow push into you stings a little bit more more than usual but, the pain only fuels your arousal.

"Fuck," he groans and you're inclined to agree with his sentiment, "Always so wet and tight for me." If you could find the words you'd tell him the reason you're so tight is because of how big he is but, you're too preoccupied with trying to remain standing.

He's nestled so deeply inside of you when he finally bottoms out. His hips flush against yours and his tip kissing your cervix, quieter whimpers leave you with every throb and pulse of him inside of you. "Open," he grits into your ear, his fingers still slick with your wetness resting on your bottom lip. You open your mouth without much of a second thought, the slightly salty taste of your wetness flooding your taste buds and you realise very quickly why Joshua shoved his fingers into your mouth.

He pulls back only to thrust back into you without much mercy, your moans fortunately being muffled by his fingers. His heavy, lidded gaze takes in the way your drool around him, some of it dribbling past your lips while he continues to fuck into harshly and quickly. He's not sure how much time he has left before someone comes knocking so, he'd rather make this quick. He can take his time with you when you're at home.

You gag around his fingers slightly when he angles his thrusts marginally, smirking when he hits that spot inside of you that causes you grip him like a vice and nearly go limp in his arms. Joshua supports you through it all. Hitting that spot over and over again until overwhelmed tears trickle down your face and you're sure you could cum from this alone and, his muffled groans and grunts with every unforgiving intrusion.

"You know what your tears do to me, baby," he moans hoarsely, his thrusts stuttering slightly when he drinks in the combination of tears and spit smeared on your gorgeous face. All you can do is nod hurriedly. Telling him without telling him that you want it. You want him to cum.

"My precious cumslut of a girlfriend," he laughs breathlessly and without much humour, his pace picking up considerably and the sounds of your wetness and his heavy balls slapping against you ringing out obscenely throughout the room. "Always so greedy for my cum," he moans against your shoulder, his other hand hurriedly reaching between your thighs to rub frantic circles against your neglected clit.

Now you really are happy he had the foresight to make you gag on his fingers. You're not sure you could've silenced yourself even if you tried your utmost. The symphony of your choked noises of pleasure and Joshua's muffled ones join the increasing noises echoing throughout the room. Your walls tighten around him viciously, your toes tingling and even more tears springing forth from your eyes.

Josh cums first. A throaty groan of your name and a few curse words your only warning before you feel him pulse inside of you. Ropes and ropes of his warm cum flooding your awaiting pussy, his hips jerking into you sporadically and his hold on you almost bruising. His attempts to keep rubbing your clit proved fruitful because it doesn't take you long to tumble over the proverbial edge along with him. It takes a significant amount of conscious effort not to bite down on his fingers as your orgasm rocks your system. Josh moaning again as your walls spasm and clamp around his softening cock.

Once you'd ridden out the more intense parts of your climax, Josh removes his fingers from your mouth. Your shared, laboured breathing the only sounds that could be heard.

"If I knew you'd react like this to my outfit, I would have worn it sooner," he says with a chuckle that sounds far too full of himself. Not that he doesn't have a right to be but still. "You just look really good okay, god," you mutter once your voice finds you again. Cringing both from the scratchy quality of your voice and, Joshua slowly pulling out of you. Quickly putting your panties back in place. A surprised gasp flying from your lips when he pushes the fabric into you with two of his long fingers.

"Wouldn't want you to waste it," he says, his eyes heavy with want once again when they they find yours, "After all you worked so hard being my little cumslut. Who knows, maybe if you manage to not leak a drop I'll fill you up again."

You resent the way your body shudders but, you nod all the same, "I won't spill a drop, Shua."

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

#joshua hong smut #joshua seventeen smut #seventeen joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #seventeen smut

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mustainegf · 3 months

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hiii can we do a kirk story but they have kids and yk just a cute story (this is so random 😭sorry if it doesn’t make sense! i love ur stories with a passion!)

AWWWWW YOUNGER KIRK WITH KIDS IS SO CUTTTTEEEEE

𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖-𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ¹⁹⁹³

The first snowflakes began to fall well before dawn, dusting our yard with a blanket of white. I wakened to the sound of giggles and whispers from our bedroom doorway. I blinked the sleep from my eyes to find Nicola and Flynn already dressed in their pajamas, all wrapped up warm, staring out the window with wide eyes.

"Mommy, Daddy, it's snowing!" Nicola, out 6 year olds, voice trembled pure excitement. Her dark curls, which she inherited from her father, bounced as she swung to face us.

Flynn, our 2 year old, was less verbal but equally excited and jabbed his chubby finger at the window, saying, "No! No!" His adorable attempt at saying “snow”

Kirk, my fiancé, stretched beside me, his lips curling into a smile. "Looks like it's time to build a snowman, huh?" he said, his voice still thick with sleep. He reached out to tousle Nicola's hair, earning a delighted squeal from our daughter.

It took the next half hour to get everyone dressed. Nicola insisted on wearing her favorite pink mittens, the ones with little kittens on them, and Flynn wiggled in his snow boots, more interested in the fuzzy lining than the actual snow outside.

Kirk and I wrapped scarves and hats around both of them, making sure they were warm enough.

The whole world outside in a winter wonderland. The snow was thick, powdery, all perfect for making snowballs and building a decent snowman.

Nicola ran ahead, her boots leaving behind small prints in the fresh snow. Flynn toddled behind her, his balance still not quite steady, but his overruling.

Kirk and I locked eyes, and in that one glance, we felt every ounce of love for our little humans.

Nicola took charge immediately, the leader in her coming to the fore. "Daddy, we need a big ball for the bottom," she ordered, already rolling a large snowball across the yard. Kirk giggled and followed her, helping her shape the snowball until it was nearly as tall as she was.

Flynn sat engrossed in his own project, taking handfuls of snow and letting them fall apart in his mittened hands. His giggles were contagious, and soon I was kneeling beside him and showing him how to pack the snow into a firmer ball.

"Mommy, look! Flynn's making a baby snowman," Nicola called out, eyes sparkling with pride for her little brother. Kirk hoisted Flynn onto his shoulders so he could have a better view of what we were working on.

"Alright, let's get this middle part on," Kirk said, lifting the second snowball onto the first. Nicola and I began packing the snow around it, making sure it was secure, like the snowman professional she was.

Flynn, still on Kirk's shoulders, leaned over to pat it with his mittens, adding his own unique finishing touches.

It was now time for the head. Nicola insisted on doing this part herself, though Kirk got to help a little. They heaved the smallest snowball carefully into place, and our snowman was complete.

Nicola clapped her hands delightedly as the cold flushed her cheeks red.

"We need a face!" she said. I had sort of been expecting that one and had a sack of things ready. Nicola and Flynn watched with rounded eyes as I pulled out a carrot for the nose, some stones for the eyes, and an old scarf that kirk used to wear. Kirk pulled Flynn down, and our little boy toddled over to hand me the carrot.

"Here, Momma," he said, in his voice high pitched adorable voice. I kneeled down on my haunches to his level and took the carrot from him, giving him a big squeeze.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I said and bent down to kiss his cold little nose. Flynn and I set the carrot into the middle of the snowman's face, his tiny hand resting over mine. Kirk and Nicola added the stones, and our snowman was soon sporting a friendly, if somewhat lopsided, grin.

Kirk leaned over, gently grabbing the carrot nose and snapping off the small end. “Daddy! What are you doing!” Nicola whined, her eyes wide as saucers.

Kirk giggled, quick to calm her. “Just wait, you’ll see.” He then split that piece in two before carefully plunging the tiny carrot pieces into the snowman’s mouth, giving him faux carrot fangs.

“Now he’s a monster snowman!” Kirk marvelled, looking back at Nicola for her reaction. She jumped up and down, her face exploding into a smile.

“Snow monster!” She squealed.

The rest of the morning we spent playing in the snow. Nicola and Kirk were having a ball with a snow fight, snow exploding in the cool air with Nicola bursting into fits of laughter every time she managed to get one on target. She even managed to aim straight for his face, leaving Kirk with his mouth agape and face full of snow.

Flynn and I made snow angels. His little arms and legs were flailing in the snow, trying to mimic mine.

Everyone by then was both cold and tired once we had gone inside. We took Nicola and Flynn out of their wet clothes and wrapped them into warm blankets to snuggle up with on the couch. Kirk made hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows, the little ones, which were the kids’ favourite.

Nicola climbed onto Kirk's lap and snuggled close in to him, his arms wrapped around her. Flynn sat between us, his head resting on my shoulder.

"Can we do this tomorrow?" Nicola looked up at Kirk hopefully. He smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Of course. As many times as you want," he promised.

Flynn, half asleep already, grunted his agreement. "No-man," he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut.

#mustainegf #fanfic #reqs open #fanfiction #request #metallica #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #kirk hammett x you #kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett imagines #kirk hammett #metallica imagines #oneshot

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arcane-apathy · 4 months

Text

Chapter 11

Prologue | Previous | Next

AN: Firstly I'd like to apologize for teasing y'all in April. However family and my mental health always come first. Turns out that planning a funeral, attending said funeral, and grieving one of the most influential people in your life sucks. Again thank you all for your patience and support. And I hope you'll enjoy it! 🌻

Warning(s): Self Mutilation, Blood Ritual

The morning came too quickly. For once you weren’t the first awake, as Kurakh shook your shoulder. “Come on Odmili, it's morning.” You groan in protest but still sit up, knowing well enough you asked for it. The fire was barely lit, meaning Kurakh mustn't have been awake long. As if he read your mind, “I still have the sand in my eyes.”

“Would you like me to tend to the fire?”

“If you feel so inclined,” he yawns while slowly standing up. You follow behind him, quickly slipping on your boots to protect your feet from the cold stone floor. Fabric rustles behind you as you feed a new log to the fire. The flames were now high and illuminating the small room well. You quickly glance over your shoulder to make sure Kurakh was decent enough for you to tolerate. With a sigh of relief, you turn around. "I don't know how you can function in this cold."

"Years of training," you chuckle while pulling your stay over your shoulders. You didn't even bother to look while you re-laced the front, muscle memory taking over. "Besides, this isn't the worst of it. Wait until the snow is above your knees."

"Only when you say things like that, I regret coming north," he sighs and slips on a furred vest over his tunic.

“I doubt that is true,” eyes rolling at his antics.

“I speak this truth. I have yet to lose a warrior, Moltschab’s horde is too scared to travel this far north, I have gained allies… And I met you.”

You pause in the middle of tying the final knot, fighting to ignore the fluttering of your heart, "that is the most saccharine thing I've ever heard you say." Surprisingly you were met with silence, making you pivot on your heel. Kurakh's confusion was written all over his face. Again the fact that the two of you come from completely different worlds dawned on you. "Saccharine means something is very sweet," you explain while stepping into your habit.

"Oh, I couldn't tell if it was good or bad," he chuckles a little and stands. Retrieving his cloak from a hook on the wall. "If Mazna asks, please tell him I'm out hunting."

"Of course, he should still be asleep, right?"

"Yes, and hopefully for a few more hours. For Roldza's sake."

"Indeed, bless that woman," you smile and begin to re-lace the habit. "Should I assume it shouldn't take long, considering our numbers have grown?" Your smile quickly disappears as a knot forms in the laces.

"Correct," he smirks and approaches you. He gently moves your hair aside, breath fanning across your neck. "You said our numbers."

"Yes, and," you counter while a blush starts to make its way up your neck.

"You're no longer considering yourself an outsider," he carefully takes the laces and undoes the knot. His fingers gently graze along your back as he finishes lacing the habit for you. "That is good."

"Oh... And you don't have to do this for me. I can lace this thing in my sleep."

"I know," his voice didn't give room to argue.

"Then why are you insisting on doing it?"

"Why must you be suspicious of everything I do?"

"Well, we didn't start on the right foot."

"Fair point," he lightly tugs on the laces to signal he's finished. "Would you like me to tuck the laces?" You only nod, trying not to tense up as he tucks the laces into the habit. Kurakh's hand finds its way to your hair and moves it back to how it normally lays. "There. Save for that blasted headcover you look like a proper Maid of Eia."

It felt like you could finally breathe as you stepped away from him, "I'm also missing the pin... But that's the last of my worries right now."

"I'll be fine."

You smack him in the chest playfully, "and what made you so sure I was talking about you? I'm more concerned about Schelura cutting my hair!"

"Right," he smirks, "don't worry, you'll be in good hands. Schelura's family has been hairdressing for generations."

"I thought she was a beadmaster?"

"Most beadmasters are also hairdressers. The work goes hand-in-hand." He hovers in the middle of the room, contemplation written all over his face. "I suppose I should go to the main hall."

"I believe so, Otoschlibt. I'll be right behind you, I just need to fix my stockings." He nods and slowly walks to the door. Taking a deep breath before he opens it, bracing for the cold air of the hallway. "The faster you do it the sooner it'll be over with," you tease. With a quiet laugh, he opens the door and enters the hallway. You watch as he goes, kindly closing the door behind him so you can have more time to savor the warmth.

It didn't take long for you to deem yourself fully dressed. With your cloak fastened you step into the hall. The cool air hitting your face, properly waking you up. The halls were lowly lit with glimmerstone, and eerily silent. As you stepped into the main hall it almost felt like a different world. Warriors bustle about as they prepare. The sound of blades on whetstones surrounded you as you made your way to the center of the room. Kurakh and the commanders surround a table covered by a makeshift map.

Eteos seemed to be the mastermind of the attack, effortlessly explaining as he pointed to the map. No one seemed to pay attention as you sidled up to Kurakh. “We will attack from all sides. Dogar and I will lead the larger group attacking from the south. Kalos will lead the western group and Aren will lead the eastern. Kurah and Galta will lead the northern group to capture the lieutenant and the maid.”

I lean in closer to Kurakh, trying to keep quiet, “the maid I understand, but the Lieutenant? Have you gone mad?”

“We need leverage, and Eteos says the winter will work in our favor by slowing rescue efforts.”

“It could also lead to our slaughter.”

“The council has already voted,” the finality of his tone kept your mouth shut. You could see a hint of doubt in his eye as he refocused. His fingers tapped on the table absentmindedly. Usually, Kurakh was able to keep still, but within the last week, you’ve caught him fidgeting more than usual. Hopefully, it was only his secret project he was worried about.

“Alright everyone, ready your weapons. We must leave before dawn,” Eteos calls to the crowd. Kurakh gently moves you away from the table as he also leaves.

“I'm unsure what we should do for the new Maid, should she stay with us?”

“I don't see why not, but it depends on who she is. It's usually the newly ordained Maids that get drafted.”

“Except you?”

“There might be some marks on my record.”

Kurakh laughs, “So I'm not the only one who's dealt with your attitude?”

“The Elders didn't appreciate the fire in my eyes like you have,” you scoff as you follow him outside. The wargs were already lined up waiting for their riders. Sukkori wags her tail at the sight of you and Kurakh. “With all seriousness, please try to be gentle with this Maid. She is likely not even twenty years old.”

“I'll make sure of it,” Kurakh mounts Sukkori swiftly. “I’ll task Galta with her care. She’s the gentlest option.”

“Gentle is not a word I would use to describe Galta, but it is the better option.”

Galta scoffs from a few steps away, “I heard that!” Even with the lack of sunlight, you could make out the warpaint on both of their faces. The dark red paint dripped from their foreheads and onto their cheeks. While the design was simple it got the point across.

“You’re lucky we don’t have any more to say Galta,” Kurakh laughs before returning his attention to you. “We’ll be careful.” The rest of the warriors make their way towards the gate around the two of you. “I must go.”

You grab his hand, causing Kurakh's breath to catch in his throat, “come back in one piece.”

He brings the back of your hand to his lips, “I promise.” He gently squeezes your hand before joining the group as they speed past the gate. Save for the guard closing the gate you stood alone in the yard. And you stood there until you could no longer hear the centaur’s hooves hitting the frosty ground. Once you made yourself go back inside you began to mentally scold yourself over your lovesick antics. With your mind so distracted you didn’t notice someone walk into the main hall behind you as you set up your triage.

“Didn’t want to go back to sleep I see,” a soft voice startles you from your work. When you looked up there was an Elven woman merely a foot away. Of course, you didn’t hear her coming.

“There was no point, I would’ve just laid awake with worry.”

“I’m the same way when my brother goes out on those missions. I’m Artenna,” she extends her hand. You first noticed the delicate and glowing tattoos that littered her pale hands. It was difficult to pull your eyes away from the faint pink light as you shook her hand. “Sorry, I probably should have given you a warning.”

“You’re a hypnotist?”

“Yes, I promise I’m not as scary as the King makes us sound.”

“It’s not that, I’ve never met a hypnotist before. It’s a niche field of magic, even before the decree.”

Artenna shrugs, “it depends on where you are. My mother also said it used to be more common when she was a child. Can I help you with anything?”

You glance around to see if there is anything left to do, “not at the moment. I already sped through everything I could do. Unless you wouldn't mind keeping me company until they return?”

“It would be my pleasure,” she smiles and sits on a bench across from you. Thankfully Artenna proved to be pleasant company as you exchanged stories, jokes, and camp gossip. After some time passes you both venture outside. The sun was finally over the horizon, signaling for you to continue preparations, and for the rest of the camp to rise. Artenna helps you break the ice and carry water from the well. The luxury will only last a few more weeks until the ice is too thick to break. Then the camp will have to rely on melting snow.

With the last bucket you were willing to carry in hand, the sound of hooves began to echo through the valley. It was urging you to hurry back into the main hall. Setting the bucket beside your tools, hoping no one else will try to use it. As much as you didn’t want to be scolded by Schelura, you quickly shove your hair into your linen cap. Infections are always worse to treat in the winter.

You didn’t know what you expected when the warriors returned, but it wasn’t the Lieutenant being carried in by Kurakh. “What happened?” Kurakh quickly sets him on a table before you.

“He poisoned himself, and we don’t know what he used,” Kurakh grumbles. Galta quickly approaches beside you, with a vaguely familiar shadow cloaked in blue. “Their Maid also doesn’t know what he could’ve taken. The officers are cowar-”

“It’s new, all high-ranking officers are supposed to take it if they get captured,” a meager voice interrupts.

“What is your name,” you glance at her as you roll up your sleeves. Her fair skin was red from the wind and her deep blue eyes were wide in shock.

“Yulla.”

“Cut off his armor and enough of his shirt so I can access his neck,” you reach for your satchel with determination. “Kurakh we’re going to need charcoal, and more wood added to the main fire.” He thankfully didn’t question you and made haste. It didn’t take you long to find your most treasured tools. A tiny iridescent blade that was easily the size of your hand, and almost as thin as your fingers. And a cast iron press of Eia’s true sigil. You carefully set it on the table before searching for other ingredients and bandages.

Yulla sees it and immediately stops in her tracks, “is that a Kisarvuhevstabler?”

“Yes, is he ready,” you didn’t even look up as Kurakh returned with a small bowl of charcoal. Muscle memory takes over as you begin to mix your ingredients in a brass bowl decorated with ancient runes. Before Kurakh gets comfy you push the cast iron press towards him, “this goes in the fire. Long handle facing out obviously.”

Before Kurakh could take it, Yulla attempted to smack his hand away, “Elder, are you insane?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Blood magic is forbidden!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “it’s only been forbidden for the past six years. While Maids of Eia have used this magic for centuries. I’m not throwing centuries of tradition down the drain, simply because our King gets nauseous at the thought of it. Now you are going to watch and learn a technique that can no longer be taught in the temples, or Commander Galta can find you something else to do. He doesn't have much time left.” Yulla doesn’t respond or leave, conflict written all over her face. You spare a glance at Galta who looked as equally concerned as Yulla. “Galta we’re going to need a bucket that we’re not afraid to get dirty.”

When Galta steps away from the table, Yanna takes the opportunity to stand beside you. You place the bowl on the table, “the potion is made with crushed unicorn horn, charcoal, and stinging nettle. I’ll tell you the exact amounts later.” With a deep breath, you pick up the blade and remove it from its sheath. “It doesn't have to be a Kisarvuhevstabler for the spell to work. They are more a sign of status, to show you know the magic.”

You take a second to examine the disheveled Lieutenant laid before you. His skin was paling, a mysterious gray forming around the mouth. And his veins looked as if his blood turned black. His breathing was ragged, but strong enough to tell he was alive. It appeared as if he wasn’t able to finish the full dose of the poison considering he survived the journey from the battlefield. By now a crowd has formed around the table, and you try your best to ignore them. The sound of an empty bucket hitting the floor signaled it was time to begin.

With the iridescent blade in your right hand, you turn to Yulla, “I will need you to turn him towards me when I give him the potion. But first, the bucket should be closer to where he will vomit when he is turned.”

“Understood,” she quickly moves the bucket before getting into position. You take a second to scan the crowd, surprisingly unable to find Kurakh anywhere. With a deep breath, you move the blade closer to your left wrist.

The blade pierces your skin, immediately stinging. In the ancient tongue, you pray, “Noble Eia, hear my prayer as I spill my blood as a testament of my conviction to thy doctrine.” As you drag the blade up your arm diagonally, blood pools atop your skin. As soon as the first drop hits the bowl the runes carved inside begin to glow. “Hear my prayer so I may rid this soul's vessel of poison. Hear my prayer so I may heal in thy name.” The pain finally catches up to you, causing the blade to fall on the table.

You steady yourself by leaning on the table, “hear my prayer so this blood is not wasted.” You force yourself to push through the pain, picking up the blade and using it to stir your blood and the ingredients together. The room was silent around you, and every eye was focused on you. You gently lift the bowl to the Lieutenant’s lips, coaxing him to swallow the potion. Once the bowl was empty Yulla tilted him towards you. Luckily for him, it didn’t take long for the potion to work.

The visible darkness in his veins crept up his chest and into his neck as the spell expelled the poison from his body. It was almost like tiny black snakes were writhing in his veins. At this point, you knew he would be saved, and now it was time to save yourself. Weakly you raise your left arm, keeping your wound above your heart, and turn towards the main firepit. The crowd quickly parts for you as you step away from the table. No one said a word to you, mostly staring at you in disbelief. With the silence, it was easy to hear the Lieutenant retch the poison into the bucket.

It was a struggle to move your body through the pain and blood loss. But you've done this before. As you neared the fire it felt like the world around you was spinning. Within the blink of an eye, you were on the floor. Crawling instead of walking to the fire. Many voices were shouting your name. But nothing could shake you from this trance. And none of them could save you from this, there was only one with that power. And you couldn’t help but mutter apologies in the ancient tongue, hoping for a sliver of mercy.

The world around you was slipping away, and all you could see was the hot iron in the coals. It felt like someone was kneeling beside you, trying to talk to you but there wasn’t much time to listen. You grab the handle of the hot iron, determined to prove yourself. With no hesitation, you laid the flat end decorated with sigils and runes onto your wound. The scream that escaped you would be considered unholy by some, but to the clergy, it was one of obedience and understanding. The pain was blinding, no matter how many times you've done it. Perhaps that was the point. The iron was lifted from your arm, most likely not by you. And despite how much you fought it, the void consumed you.

#m orc x f reader #tpow series #the prize of war #original content #male orc x female reader #fantasy #high fantasy #orc x reader #exophilia #tpow

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pascalpvnk · 11 months

Text

Pour Choices // You & I

pairing: bartender!joel x f!afab!reader

summary: Austin, Texas was never a dream destination for you, however your work trip there might’ve changed your perspective of the Lone Star State, and it absolutely was not work related.

word count: 6.6k words (oops…)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut (dubcon [both drank alcohol], handjob if you squint, oral [f receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it up!], Joel has had a vasectomy, premature ejaculation, double creampie, alluding to aftercare), possibly ooc, no outbreak AU, Joel is 36 with no specified age for reader, reader described as a woman, use of she/her pronouns, minor body descriptions (reader described as having curves, reader has hair long enough to grasp/pin up, reader is shorter than Joel, he picks up reader for like half a second), time jumping (indicated by solid orange divider), religious euphemisms (?) from Joel (i know that man has religious trauma), alcohol consumption, food consumption

a/n: hello! I know this is a long time coming but she’s finally here. thank you for being patient with me during this writing process and thank you to those who helped and encouraged me! a special thanks to @delicaatefl0vver for beta reading and supporting and adding to my thots. welcome to the rebirth of my fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy xx (dividers by @/saradika)

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Sat in the corner of the rustling bar, you were sipping on your Manhattan. The drink tasted medicinal, not how you’d usually prefer it. You had watched the young bartender pour heavy on the vermouth, but chose not to say anything. Red lipstick stained the rim of your glass with each sip of the cocktail. The whiskey mixed in and the maraschino cherry garnish were its only saving graces.

A low hanging light illuminated a warm hue across your features. You were surrounded by classic Texan bar decor and architecture; high ceiling rafters, support beams strung with fairy lights, the walls packed with framed posters of all varieties, the occasional beer branded neon sign, and license plates tacked up behind the bar. Two televisions sat flush against opposing walls, both playing a pregame show of Rangers highlights as they counted down to first pitch. The air was thick as the feet of the patrons shuffled around and chair legs scraped against the wood finished floors. Groups of friends, couples, and everyone between flooded through the doors, ushering themselves to an empty table or stool at the bar. Being there on a Friday night right as the outside rush hour died down was a bold choice, but you had one goal in mind.

The moment the music changed from country to rock and roll, you knew it was time to set yourself out to accomplish it.

The click of your high heels contrasted from the stomp of sneakers and cowboy boots. Glass in hand and head held high, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you felt it in your throat. You sure as hell weren’t living up to your stoic, stone cold hearted reputation back home. It’s almost as though your heart thawed in the Texas heat. Though your heart changed with the state, your attire didn’t. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the other consumers in your black maxi dress and perfectly pinned up hair. Some eyes gazed towards you, but you were set on finding one pair in particular. The set of eyes that were darker than the coffee he brewed, but the same ones that looked like honey when the sun was setting. The eyes that were facing away from you at the bar as you found a stool. The ones that snapped up towards you with one word.

“Texas.”

You called for him like a melody. Your throat immediately felt dry as a lump formed. He either felt the same way you did or it was a one off fling. You were hoping it was the former. But…it had been two years since you met, so there was a decent chance he was the one that got away.

The way his muscles tensed under his tight Henley gave away that he recognized you simply from your voice. Those beautiful eyes met yours, and his jaw went a little slack, the corners of his mouth curved.

“Evenin’, Miss New York,” Joel drawled, leaning against the counter. “How are ya, darlin’?”

Joel’s mind was preoccupied before he had seen you the first time, filled with important nonsense that about drove him up the wall.

Gotta make the next schedule. What time is that birthday party Sarah wants t’go to? Wonder if Tommy would be willin’ to take her. No, he’s workin’ on a job site out of town. I need to find someone to cover part of my shift so I can take her. Gotta pay the rent for this month. Can’t keep running the bar if s’gonna be slow like this and that bastard won’t cough up his half of it. God dammit.

“Welcome in, what can I get for ya?” The southern man drawled absentmindedly, tossing a rag over his broad shoulder. The moment his eyes caught yours, his worries washed away. He was only interested in you and your big, beautiful eyes and bright, red lips.

“Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double please,” you practically sang to him…or at least it sounded like music to his ears. Your ID slipped out of your billfold with ease, and you slid it across the bar as you took a seat. Joel examined the horizontally wide piece of plastic, deciding it was real, especially for a lady ordering a whiskey. A lady from New York, no less.

Joel took in your features for a moment, noticing the difference in your attire and even your accent compared to the other bar patrons. Your beauty was striking to him, making all of the women he’s seen come in flee his memory. He repeated your name over and over in his head, wanting to know how it felt on his tongue. To say he was intrigued would be the understatement of the year.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He poured a generous portion of whiskey into a cut crystal glass and added several cubes of ice, then slid it over to you with a smile. He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar, eyes lingering on your curves. "So, what brings you in here tonight? The Big Apple too small for ya?"

“Work,” you responded simply, taking a sip from your drink. He watched as your eyes raked down his frame. There was no visible emotion behind them, so he was unsure if you were checking him out or simply giving him a once over.

Joel’s eyes on the other hand drank in your features, not even attempting to hide his gaze. It lingered across your chest and the way your dress contoured your breasts so perfectly. He was damn near drooling at the sight of you taking down your whiskey better than he would. Your face remained expressionless, zero signs of your mouth twisting in distaste. The simple action had him hooked.

He cleared his throat and began polishing some glasses as he continued to have small talk with you.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, lining the cups along the bar as he shined them one by one.

“Flight just landed. I checked into my hotel and dropped off my stuff. Wanted to take a walk around to see what this city has to offer and I landed here,” you shrugged, taking another drink of your whiskey. “Nice place, are you the owner?”

“Co-owner, yeah,” Joel chuckled. “So I take it, your work stuff starts tomorrow? Or are you drinking on the job?”

“The former,” you smiled softly. “I’m not trying to get fired, they barely trusted me to come out here in the first place.”

His head nodded gingerly. He couldn’t quite tell if you were shooting him down or just quiet after a long day. He wanted to know more. Wanted as much information that he could get from you without coming off as a creep. Deciding to take a minor risk, he continued conversing with you.

“What kind of work are ya doing all the way out here, hm?” He asked politely, restocking the freshly polished glasses back on their designated shelves.

“My uh…my peer, I suppose, is on maternity leave and she represents most of our buildings in Texas. I’ve been doing most of the work over the phone but one of the Austin buildings required a visit. A lot of incident reports to go through.”

The whiskey in your glass was almost gone and he could tell it was opening you up a little bit. First time in the whole conversation you said more than what his question asked for.

“Darlin’, that’s some big wig stuff, and yet you make it sound so inconspicuous,” he drawled, a low rumble of laughter rolling from his chest. “What field are you in? Or is it top secret?”

“Oh! I work in HR,” you let out a small laugh. “Probably should’ve started with that.”

He smirked at how you fumbled over yourself, admiring the way your smile folded the skin around your eyes and exposed a dimple. He could definitely tell he was breaking down your stone wall. His eyes took you in once more. Your lip prints stained red on the once clean glass, immediately grabbing his attention. Arousal shot through his body, directing into his pants. That’s not something he knew he was attracted to.

“Need another, ma’am?” He asked politely and swallowed hard, attempting to look anywhere but your chest. You accepted his offer and opened a tab. Joel was thanking his lucky stars that the universe brought such a beautiful woman into his bar that night. Thanking fate for having him cover this shift.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, miss. Just holler if you need another drink or y’wanna close out. My name’s Joel,” he smiled with his boyish charm, flipping his towel back over his shoulder before reluctantly diverting his attention to another customer in need.

You stuck around for a bit, snacking on peanuts and watching the baseball game running on the television. Joel felt your eyes burn into the back of his head as he worked.

It was innocent to start. He popped tops off of beers, poured shots, and shook cocktails all while his cheeks burned pink under the heat of your gaze. Then he intentionally reached up to the top shelf more often, flexing his muscles and letting his shirt ride up his back to grab your attention again and again. It became increasingly difficult for you to peel your eyes off of him the more you drank.

And he noticed.

A couple hours passed, and before you knew it, the clock was nearing midnight. Joel walked around the bar, going to each empty table and wiping them thoroughly. He restocked everything as most of the small crowd filed out. He took a look at you from the front door, admiring the curves that were hardly hidden under your snug dress as you watched the TV mindlessly.

“Well darlin’,” he began as he approached the bar again. “I don’t know what time you have to work in the morning but it’s getting late. Wanna close out your tab?”

“I s’pose so,” you chuckled, copying his accent a little by accident. Your tired, drunken smile made his heart flutter.

A small smile plastered itself across Joel’s face as he ran your card. He let it process, grabbing both receipts and scribbling something on them.

“Can I call you a cab, sweetheart? They aren’t driving around all the time like they do back home for you,” he offered, handing you the merchant copy receipt. He crossed out all of the options to tip, just requiring your signature. You tried to protest, but he silenced your argument.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel examined you cleaning up your peanut shell debris as he called for the cab. You signed the receipt, and slid his copy back across the bar. He noticed your subtle smile as you noticed ten digits written neatly on the customer copy.

The line went dead when the conversation concluded, and Joel put the phone back on its charger. He noticed how you folded the receipt paper and tucked it safely into your clutch along with your debit card.

“Cab should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Um,” he cleared his throat. “If ya need someone to recommend restaurants or if you want a tour of any sort, I hope that’ll come in handy.”

Joel gestured towards your clutch, the current home of his phone number. He wanted to ask you out, so so badly, but you were intoxicated and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. If it was meant to be, you’d take the initiative, at least that’s what he told himself.

“I bet it will,” you openly flirted. Joel knew better than to return the sentiment, but it was so damn difficult. His mama would’ve smacked him upside the head if he had, and that was enough to stop him. All he offered was a smirk before turning away and gathering dishes to be brought back to the pile of other used utensils.

“D’ya need a water or anything?” Joel asked, already reaching for a clean cup. You nodded and he filled the glass first with ice, followed with water and a straw. Laying a napkin on the counter, Joel gently set your water down with a close lipped smile.

“Thanks for stopping in, darlin’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rock music he had playing. “Get back to that hotel of yours safely, alright? Don’t wanna hear about Miss New York on the news. They never show anything positive nowadays.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you chuckled, gathering your things to leave after drinking most of the glass. He took these moments to really take you in, dramatically telling himself that this could be the last time he’d ever see you. Last time he’d witness your cherry stained, stunning, yet intoxicated smile, your soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.

His admiration was interrupted by the honk erupting from the impatient taxi driver’s vehicle outside. You turned on your heel, offering a ‘goodnight, Texas!’ before walking out the door. Joel scrubbed a hand across his beard, huffing a self deprecating laugh and a muttered ‘shit’ before continuing to close up shop. He beat himself up internally while cleaning the dishes until his phone buzzed. He dug the device from his pocket, flipping it open to see a text from an unknown number.

“Didn’t end up on the news. What a bummer! Maybe next time ;)”

Joel smiled to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He finished his closing tasks and made a little to-go Shirley Temple mocktail for his daughter. Before exiting the building for the night, he turned off the glowing ‘Pour Choices’ sign and locked the door behind him. His smile faded as he left his bar behind, remembering his life’s reality and his responsibilities. Those stressors sat heavy once more upon his shoulders until he fell into a deep slumber that night.

Your first full day of work was exhausting to say the least, and the small hangover you suffered did not help one bit. And whoever decided you should come to Austin in August had become your own mortal enemy. You’re used to your mild summers back home, not sweating so much that your clothes stick to you uncomfortably. But the thing that bothered you the most was the imminent, distracting thought of Joel, especially as the sun retired behind the horizon. The way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut around his thick biceps and how they flexed every time he mixed up drinks. You had watched him use his charm to get tips practically thrown at him by the other patrons, he really put that handsome grin to work.

You were alone in your hotel. There wasn’t a scheduled dinner with your team, so you sat in bed watching Scrubs reruns and eating what constituted your dinner: cheese, crackers and pepperoni slices you picked up from the grocery store. A little disassembled charcuterie board if you will.

Beckoning your attention, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. The caller ID had your heart pounding against your chest. Joel. It was almost like he could read your mind.

“Hello?” You started, wiping the crumbs off of your fingers and lowering the volume on the show.

“Evenin’,” he drawled out your name. His voice came across gruffer and frankly hotter over the phone than in person. The way it fed directly into your ears had a chill running down your spine.

“Night off?” You asked nonchalantly, a sad attempt of remaining mysterious, knowing if he was sat next to you, you’d melt into a puddle.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing for a moment and chuckling quietly. “Sorry for callin’ late. I’d text but that would’a taken me a decade. How was today? Hope that whiskey didn’t ruin your morning.”

The smile you sported grew in size. It felt nice having a normal conversation that wasn’t work related…even if it was with someone you just met.

“It was good! Busy but good. I had a headache but nothing I couldn’t handle. It’s stupid hot here though, didn’t appreciate that,” you hummed to yourself in thought. “Nothing much happened, lots of meetings. Now I’m just hanging out in my hotel. How about you?”

“Same here, nothin’ much. Are ya doing anythin’ or just wallowin’ in your loneliness?” He teased, testing the waters a little. You wish you could see his face. See whether he was sporting a shit eating grin or if he was gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Ha-ha,” you shot back, pressing your cell between your cheek and shoulder to stand up and settle near the window. “I’m watching TV and eating my nutritious dinner of cheese, crackers and pepperoni, thank you very much.”

“Dinner?” He scoffed. “Now I think you need'ta hustle on over here and have a real meal. You can’t possibly be callin’ all ‘f those HR shots with that diet, hm?”

You gotta give it to him, you aren’t that smooth on a whim, that takes practice. Looking out at the Austin skyline, you snickered to yourself and leaned against the window’s frame.

“C’mon, I have almost all of my food groups in front of me, I don’t think that’s too horrible,” you retaliated jokingly. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Well you got me there, darlin’. I do have wine if you wanna round out your meal,” he offered. You could hear faint tapping coming from the line. He was nervous.

Considering the proposal, you decided to take it, despite your early morning and full day approaching. Joel offered to pick you up so you didn’t have to pay for another cab and you gratefully accepted. You quickly got changed back out of your sleepwear into something almost equally as comfy and perhaps a bit more revealing.

So you find yourself sat on Joel Miller’s couch. The ride was fine, you chatted like before, but with a bit more direct flirting. You observed his spaces. His truck was simple, a little, beat up pickup, but you were sure it got his work done. There were scuff marks from tennis shoes on his dash. Your mind wandered as you imagined if they were from a friend or former lover, but you didn’t let it bother you.

There was a little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The smell of its woody scent combined with his warm, leathery cologne and a hint of Irish Spring all flooded your senses. And god, he didn’t just smell good, he looked so good.

Joel looked perfect in the driver’s seat, his biceps straining against his smooth skin as he gripped the wheel, prominent veins popping through his forearms. Looked so cozy in his small kitchen, pouring both of you a hefty glass of rosé. His hands enveloped his cup entirely as he brought it to his plush lips. The way they framed his teeth when he smiled down at you gave you heart palpitations.

And even sitting comfortably in the corner of his L-shaped couch, Joel continued to look amazing. His leg was crossed over the other, creating the perfect shelf on his knee for his wine. Those arms stretched far across the back of the couch as he fidgeted with a loose string stuck on the cushion. Everything about him screamed disciplined. The way his spaces were mostly neat, organized and decently decorated added to your observation. He belonged here, and it seemed like he worked hard to get the things he earned.

The casual facade you had faded away the longer you chatted about your lives and sipped on your glasses. Topics like work and hobbies came into conversation, and you learned that Joel liked to play with guitar and sing a little—only when he was alone of course. Then you began talking about more personal matters, like your relationship statuses.

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed, feeling warm from the wine in your system. “You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head down at the couch. You watched as he observed the cushions-worth of space between you two. By that point, you were fully turned ninety degrees to face him in conversation, your legs tucked comfortably under you. Your face felt hot as you wielded the half empty, stemless wine glass.

“What about the kid in your pictures? Is she your niece or something?” You were referring to the framed photos both nailed to the wall and decorating the table in his entryway. Most of them contained himself and the child, whether she was celebrating with a soccer ball and a trophy or blowing out candles on a cake, her wild curls spilling every which way from her party hat.

“Nah, she’s all mine. My Sarah turned fourteen a few weeks ago,” he smiled to himself, making your heart clench and pound against the confines of your ribcage. The proud look he had on his face told you about everything you needed to know about his relationship with his daughter.

“Fourteen? You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager,” you chuckle. “Where is she tonight? Seems like you got the house to yourself.”

“Why I'm flattered. She’s got a friend’s birthday party sleepover thing. That’s why I had to take the night off. I’m her personal chauffeur, of course,” Joel offered a curtsey jokingly.

Your smile widened as you brought your now second glass of rosé up to sip once more. You don’t care to ask about Sarah’s mother, it was a personal matter and possibly a sensitive subject.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you looked at one another. You watched the automatic rise and fall of his chest and the way his cheeks burned from your gaze. His chocolate eyes bore into yours, melting your heart without even trying. His exterior was gruff and masculine but he had proven time and time again that he was probably one of the kindest men you have met. Must be that southern charm and hospitality, but man was it addicting.

“What?” He barely asked above a whisper, copying your actions with his wine. His attempt to hide his smile behind his clear cup obviously failed. His blush spread down his neck and you could only imagine if it went any farther down. Your thoughts of Joel were beginning to become tainted by your blooming arousal. You wanted him. On top of you, under you, you’d take anything and the growing wetness pooling in your panties was evidence of that.

“Can I be blunt, Joel?” You grinned as you sunk a bit further into the cushion against your side. He responded with a hummed ‘mhm’ so you’d continue, bringing his hand back into his lap. The fabric of his joggers barely contained his strong thighs, making it more and more difficult to contain your urge to see what else lied beneath his pants.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you admitted cheekily, fairly certain that he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, do ya now?” He smirked, leaning over to pluck your glass from your grasp and put it safely on his coffee table along with his own.

“I think you’re a little mind reader,” Joel continued. “‘Cause I was thinkin’ the same thing. Bet those pretty lips are real soft.” His hand found your waist after you confirmed he had consent as he guided you onto his lap. You hummed contently as you draped your arms over his shoulders, toying with the stray, chestnut curls at his nape.

“What happened to Mr. Shy Guy, huh?” You teased, letting his calloused hands explore the expanse of your back as your lips ghosted over his.

“Not shy, just polite, sweetheart,” he rasped before closing the gap between you two. His palms were flush against your lower back, radiating heat through the thin material of your shirt.

You melted into him, bodies pressed as close as possible without your knees sinking between the couch cushions. Lips slotted together and hands wandered as you filled all of your senses with Joel. His tongue was stained with a familiar smoky taste, which was definitely not coming from the wine

“Why do you taste like whiskey?” Your mouth formed a smile against his matching one. His hand cupped your cheek as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Had some before I called ya,” he admitted bashfully. “Doesn’t matter now.”

In an instant, he was kissing you once more with increased passion, making you completely forgo the subject. His tongue flicked into your mouth, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of your lips. He gripped at your hips, trying to pull you closer to him but your legs protested against his furniture.

“Scoot forward,” you mumbled against him. And he did what he was told. His hips shifted forward, granting you more room to sit directly on his lap. Sighs were drawn from both of you as you settled back into each other, his cock already half hard under you. Your fingers messed with the hair behind his ears, earning a pleased moan from him.

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t wan’ it to,” he panted between kisses. Just above a whisper, you uttered, ‘I want it,’ and Joel’s hands took it as permission to explore further down your body, palming at your ass through your shorts.

A whimper slipped between your lips into Joel’s, and he swallowed it whole. He pressed your body closer to his, your clothed sex dragging over his sweatpants. His cock twitched up in response to your mouth finding his jaw, his short beard scratching against you.

“Lemme take care of you,” you mused, bringing your hands up the sides of his face. He relaxed back into the couch, his blunt nails pushing under your shorts into the meat of your bare thighs.

You started by kissing his lips once more, then the two prominent patches of missing hair on his chin, and made your way down to his throat. His adam's apple bobbed under your touch as pants grew tighter on him.

“Knew you’d have the best lips, fuck,” he mumbled as you licked up the side of his neck, his pulse racing under your tongue. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

“Patience, handsome,” you whispered into his ear, your breath sending chills through his body. He let go of your legs as you bunched his shirt into your palms, sitting up to help remove it. Hair scattered sparsely on his chest, pausing on his upper stomach only to come back thicker as it disappeared into his boxers.

Your palms dragged down his torso, skimming over his nipples and ribs as he naturally recoiled from the stimulation. You gently kissed and sucked at his collarbone so it could be hidden away under his shirt. Color rose to the surface of his skin the more you worked at it, flattening your tongue against it once you decided your mark was left properly.

Joel was breathing heavily under you, his hands snaking under your shirt to your breasts. Your nipples were already pebbled through your bralette, becoming unbearably hard the moment Joel started running his thumbs over them. He gently pushed your shirt and bra above your tits, leaning forward to bring one to his mouth as his hand toyed with the other. His tongue lapped your skin, rounding the hardened nipple and sucking it back slightly. An image of him doing the same to your clit had your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Joel,” you mewled as he switched breasts. He spread his saliva around your areola as he picked up his ministrations on the other. A groan vibrated against your skin as your nails raked down his happy trail.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you continued, holding onto the waistbands of his pants and underwear. His unused hand covered yours entirely, pushing it down to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip weeping with precum. Never in your life had you seen a dick so big before, and you couldn’t wait for it to split you in half.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth, sweet girl,” he drawled, reaching back up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t wanna come before you.”

Spitting onto your fingertips, you mixed it with the slick seeping from his tip then dragged it down his shaft, squeezing it in your palm on the way back up. Joel groaned into your neck. He wedged his hands back under your top, lifting it over your head and forcing your hand to leave his cock.

“Need’ta taste you first,” he muttered, his amber irises completely eclipsed by his pupils. Joel removed you from his lap and laid you down onto the couch. You watched as he settled between your legs and hooked his thick fingers into your bottoms, licking his lips. Raising your hips, he pulled everything off of you, leaving you bare. Cool air hit your glistening pussy, sending a shiver up your spine. You whined out his name after he stared at you for a moment.

“What?” He cooed, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs. “Wan’ me to touch ya, hm? Fuck you with my fingers ‘n stretch that pretty pussy out? Maybe suck on your clit. S’that what you want, darlin’?”

You nod your head furiously, dying with anticipation to have his hands, mouth, something on you. Wordlessly, your foot hooked around the back of his leg as you attempted to pull him closer to you.

“Ah ah,” he tsked. “I think ya gotta ask for it, honey. Ask for it nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whined with desperation. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass and ultimately onto the couch. “Please fill me up, touch me, taste me, whatever you want.”

“Good, so good f’me. Open up,” he encouraged, slotting his first two digits between your lips. He spread them on each side of your tongue. Saliva collected on his thick fingers as you swirled your tongue around them in figure eights. A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah I’m gonna put my cock in this pretty mouth next time, baby. Feels perfect on my fingers,” he grumbled. His fingers came out of your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting him to you.

Joel finally slipped his fingers through your swollen folds, teasing your entrance and collecting more slick. His fingertips circled lightly around your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat. His free hand tapped against your hip, signaling you to raise them with an ‘up.’ He grabbed a throw pillow and positioned it under you. You relaxed your already trembling legs, and he had barely even touched you.

He settled onto his stomach, spreading your legs apart as far as they’d go. A pointer finger breached your entrance as he kissed the seam where your thigh and pussy came together. Soft moans escaped you as you carded your fingers through his curls. His smug eyes met yours as his tongue moved everywhere but your clit. He looked better than ever between your legs, and you didn’t know that could be possible. His teasing was deserved for what you were doing previously, but it was agonizing.

“Please, Joel,” you groaned. “Please gimme more, I need you.”

Obliging to your request, Joel added another finger into your cunt, curling them both and stroking your g-spot expertly. All of the air left your lungs the moment his flattened tongue finally found your clit. Joel’s groan vibrated throughout your entire pussy, adding to each sensation deliciously. It didn’t take much more for your legs to start shaking and squeezing his head between your thighs, a hot sensation bubbling in your lower belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” you cried, grasping Joel’s hair much tighter than before. He suckled your clit and flicked his tongue over it with a moan, sending you flying over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he rode you through your high. He kissed your trembling thighs until they relaxed, his unmoving fingers still stuffed inside you.

“God, you’re even sexier when you come, sugar. Taste even sweeter too,” he hummed, shifting himself up your body until his lips found yours again. He tasted still of whiskey but with a mix of your arousal.

Joel brought his now soaked fingers back into your mouth to replace his tongue, urging you to suck all of your spend off of them. You hummed around his digits and wrapped your quivering legs around his waist.

“And you were preachin’ to me about patience,” he teased, removing his fingers and stroking his cock a couple times. He was sitting up and resting on his heels, looking like pure sex. His proportions were perfect, he was broad and you’d happily let him crush you under his weight.

“It’s hard to be patient when you look at me like that,” you muse, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Joel snickered quietly, dragging his nails over your inner thighs. Goosebumps followed behind his light touch and your legs twitched when he got close enough to your sensitive core.

“So,” Joel began, settling comfortably on top of you and kissing your jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested last n’ I’ve had a vasectomy. But I’ll gladly get a condom if ya want me to.”

“Hmm, a gentleman,” you grinned, your fingers finding their way back into his hair as you enjoyed his affection. “I’m clean and more than okay without it.”

Joel slotted his cock into your slit with a smirk, groaning at the new sensation. His tip nudged at your clit with each pass, earning moans from both parties.

“Almost came all over this couch with you clenchin’ ‘round my fingers like that, honey,” he drawled. “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

You gave him a reassuring kiss as you wedged your hand down between you two. Lining up his tip with your entrance, you watched as he disappeared into your welcoming cunt. His face pressed into your neck as he slowly sank into you, anchoring himself with his hands planted on your waist and thigh. Strings of profanities left him as he stretched you out, the pressure you felt quickly morphing into pleasure.

“Shit,” you hissed when he bottomed out. “Feels so good, Joel.”

You urged him to continue, and he complied. Starting slow, he pulled out halfway and pushed back in to test the waters. The drag of your core had his toes curling. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long. His cock swelled in you after a few minutes as he panted into your neck.

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay, come for me, Joel. Please,” you consoled him, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter. He spilled into you, the sticky fluid coating your inner walls. Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back as he caught his breath.

His face emerged from the crook of your neck, flush and sweaty. He tried apologizing once more but you shushed him. Your lips met again as you grasped his dampened curls, pulling at his locks harder than before. Cock stiffening up again, Joel resumed thrusting into you slowly. A squelching sound emitted from your pussy as his pace quickened.

“Joel,” you gasped, tangling yourself around him tighter. He took it as an opportunity to scoop you up and change positions, sitting on the couch and giving you the freedom to ride him.

“Wan’ you comin’ on my cock, beautiful,” he moaned. His calloused fingertips circled your clit as he fucked his load deeper into you. You bounced on him, his cock spearing you. The tip hit your g-spot with each thrust. Stars sparkled in your vision as you clenched down on him hard.

“C’mon, use my cock, make yourself come. That’s it, fuck.”

His hips bucked up to meet yours halfway, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout his living room. You were a moaning mess, chanting his name haphazardly. Your walls clamped down around him and milked any remaining cum from him as you both reached your second peaks.

“Christ,” he groaned, stilling inside of you. The mixture of your fluids seeped from your fluttering hole. Joel smoothed his palms over your sweat slick back, peppering kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. Praises flew from his mouth like a prayer and you were his goddess, all his to worship.

Joel used his sweatpants to catch any leakage as his softened cock slipped out from you. He took his time with you, helping you regain your composure with more kisses and lingering touches. You followed him to his room where he properly cleaned you up and gave you a Texas Longhorns shirt and boxer shorts.

“You’re more than welcome t’stay,” Joel offered. “Or I can drive ya back. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Your arms snaked up and around his shoulders, stretching yourself up on your tiptoes. A smile crept onto your face as Joel held you steady by your ass. You peeked over at his unmade bed with only two measly pillows, one of them crumpled up in the middle of his bed. A shy smile adorned his face as you refocused on him. He was going to be the death of you.

“Set an alarm and take me to bed, cowboy.”

Late into the following evening, you found yourself back in Pour Choices. A lingering soreness twinged between your legs the entire day. You weren’t there to drink. You wanted Joel.

He started his usual greeting until he realized you had stepped through the doors, another black dress clinging to your body and lips stained a deeper shade of red than before.

“Hey, darlin’,” he smiled breathlessly. You sauntered over to the bar, leaning in close and cutting to the chase in a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna sit in the corner and wait for you to close up. Wanna return the favor from last night.”

Joel can confidently say that was his quickest close of his career, and you can just as confidently state that you successfully returned the favor, covering that poor man with crimson lip prints. He’d never complain about the physical reminder of you, using it as inspiration on the nights he craved you while you were away. He never thought he’d go from having everything from you for a couple weeks to having nothing for over a year.

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna remember me,” you smiled softly, a twinge of sadness in your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a new glass and some ice.

“I could never forget you, sugar,” he smirked, grabbing a top shelf whiskey and pouring it into the glass. The crackle of the ice drew your attention. You were always a sucker for whiskey. He remembered.

“On the house, darlin’. Want me to take your other drink? Doesn’t seem like you enjoyed it,” Joel pointed to the condensation lined cup with the half dranken Manhattan. “I know you’re not the sipping type of gal.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you smiled brighter as he took away the used cup. “Y’all don’t make Manhattans like they do back home,” you jabbed, taking a big gulp of the chilled whiskey. Those familiar lip prints stamped on the glass.

“But,” you continued, glancing at his bare ring finger. You observed the sprouting grays in his sideburns and deepened creases on his face, seeing the effect that the last two years had on him. “Y’all have something that New York doesn’t.”

You traced the rim of the glass, trying to pick up any emotion from his expressionless face. He did however crack a small smirk at your comment and leaned against the bar with both hands. Suddenly it felt like everyone else disappeared and it was just you and him in the moment.

“Hm, and what’s that, sweetheart?” He leaned closer and replied softly, but just loud enough for only you to hear.

“You, Joel.”

to keep up to date on upcoming parts, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications. thank you for reading!! <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: you & i

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factorydefaultlu · 6 months

Text

You're Not In Control

Strade x GN! Reader

TW: force feeding, starvation, vomit, torture, fingernail pulling... Strade is a warning in of himself.

A/N: thank you to my beautiful wife for the German translations, I hope I used them right. Also this is the first thing I've ever written for Strade and I'm still not super confident I got him right so... Be nice please.

Thinking about being held captive by Strade.

You had earned the privilege of leaving the basement. (with the shock collar on of course)

You were defiant and he liked that, he liked that he hadn't entirely broken you.

Strade noticed that you didn't eat much, and slowly you started eating nothing at all.

He didn't care at first, Ren didn't eat much when he was first brought up from the basement either.

As it continued he got irritated and realized that it wasn't just anxiety keeping you from eating. You were starving yourself intentionally.

Strade didn't like that. For many reasons, but mainly because he didn't have control.

He acted like a stubborn dad at first, telling you that you couldn't leave the table until you finished your food.

"Alright, schatz. We're going to sit here until you can behave and eat." his voice dripped with venom.

Your defiance struck a fire in him when you just sat and stared at the plate.

It was decent food, steak that'd been cut up for you, green beans and potatoes. By all means it was a good meal.

But you were stubborn and refused to relenquish total control to that psychopath.

Strade sent Ren off to bed, and sat at the table all night with you. Trying to break you.

It didn't work.

The next night, he started to try and beat you into eating.

"Wenn du es nicht anders willst, bitte. We'll do it your way then." You should have been scared, and part of you was, but all that bubbled up was anger.

He removed his belt and struck you all along your back.

Dark welts formed underneath the thin shirt you were wearing, and you dropped to the floor after a few minutes of endless beating.

He kicked your ribs, the steel toe of his boot slamming into your fragile bones. You tried not to cry out, but sobs tore through your throat despite the effort. The final kick to you stomach was so hard that you threw up bile.

"Kleine Zicke! You fucking brat!" He barked, and you spent the night in the basement.

That didn't break you either.

The third night he tied your wrists and ankles to the chair and tried force feeding you.

"Mund auf. Open." he spoke like a steel knife.

Each time you spit it out, he stabbed the fork into your arm. You still didn't break.

He then put a ring gag in your mouth and tried to force a protein drink down your throat, you threw that up as well.

On the fourth night, he tied you to the chair again, but this time brought a pair of pliers up from the basement.

Each time you spit the food out, he'd pluck a fingernail from your hand.

He ran out of fingernails to remove, and you still hadn't swallowed a single bite and there was blood all over the floor.

A needless mess.

The fifth night was the final straw.

Strade had you and Ren sit at the table, he placed a plate of food in front of you and said that Ren wasn't getting food until you eat.

The look in your eyes excited him, it was defiant as always but it held a look of pleading.

A look that said "this isn't about him, leave him alone"

The three of you sat for hours, and it wasn't until you heard the sound of Ren's stomach growl that you finally gave in.

You took a bite of food, then looked to Strade. He just motioned for you to continue. By the third or fourth bite you realized that he was going to make you finish the whole plate before feeding Ren.

Once the plate was polished off, you dropped the fork abruptly. The sound of the metal clanging on the porcelain made Ren jump, and Strade just laughed then clapped his hands together.

"Sehr gut. That wasn't so hard now was it?" The smile on his face made you want to lash out.

You gave him that same fiery look as usual, but at least Ren got to eat.

#boyfriend to death #btd #btd strade #boyfriend to death strade #ren hana #ren btd #ren boyfriend to death #emetophobia

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year

Text

Careless

Clive Rosfield x female reader Minor FF16 spoilers as per, Gav says a swear or two

The boat ride back to the Hideaway is silent – odd considering the cargo onboard is a reason for celebration. Obolus is at the helm as usual and hasn’t dared to grumble once at the additional weight. The rescued Bearers – eight adults, one child – are curled up under blankets and sack cloth, the gentle bob of the water having lulled them to sleep. Gav is sat near them, keeping his eyes cast down in his lap. Torgal is fast asleep at your feet, snoring lightly after the exertion of the day. A number of Cursebreakers had stayed ashore, but there are a few onboard who are either admiring their boots or keeping their gaze on the horizon.

You’ve kept your eyes anywhere else but the two stormy blue ones that have been fixed solely on you since boarding the vessel. Clive is sat opposite, arms crossed, legs spread wide and you swear you can feel his glare burn.

Making any sort of prolonged eye contact with the outlaw before had done little else but cause your cheeks to flush. He was attractive, there was no denying that – even enemies had commented on it in fights, for Founder’s sake. The two of you had always got on well since he joined the Hideaway over five years ago and you’d been a liar if you hadn’t entertained the possibility of something more.

Not now, though.

Not with how furious he is with you.

It wasn’t even meant to have been a mission. Gav had accompanied you to Northreach for a supply run. He hadn’t been out scouting for a few days and had itchy feet, so he’d jumped at the chance to leave the Hideaway for a couple of hours, even if it meant acting as your pack chocobo. There were requests in from the Tub & Crown for spices and always an endless request for more herbs for the infirmary, so you’d headed to Northreach for the market there. The two of you had been walking down a less travelled path towards Clairview when a unique accent had caught your ears, heading your way.

Royalists.

Gav’s eyes widened and the two of you ducked back into the undergrowth, thankfully free of fiends. For a couple of weeks now, there had been unconfirmed intelligence that the Royalists had been abducting Bearers and shipping them out to Ash at an alarming rate. A couple of Cursebreaker groups had been out trying to scout possible docking locations, but nothing had ever been confirmed.

But what else would a small group of Royalists be doing in the Empire? From your hiding place, three soldiers quickly march by, a Branded child of no more than eight in their grip. Tears streaked the young girl’s face and it broke your heart, flinging your mind back to when you’d been young and sold between master and master…

“Do you think…?” Gav doesn’t finish his sentence as they walk out of earshot.

“It must be. Come on, we need to follow them.”

Gav’s hand grabs your arm and holds you in place.

“Look, I admit we’re decent with a blade but we have no idea what we’ll be walking into.”

“This could be our only chance – this is the first concrete evidence we’ve had.”

“I know, but there’s two of us. There might be a whole battalion of soldiers where they’re headed.”

You bite your lip – you agree, but there must be something you can do. The terror in the little girl’s eyes will haunt you the rest of your life if you don’t. Maybe, if one of you could go and get back-up, the other follow the Royalists and leave a trail… Gav. It would have to be Gav.

“Go get back-up, then follow the scent.”

“Wait, you’re not-“

“They want Bearers. I’m a Bearer, aren’t I?” You swiftly take off your leather armour and sword belt, handing them over to scout who is staring at you in disbelief.

“Aye fucking right!”

“Clive had a missive from the Dame early this morning, so he should be in Northreach by now. There’ll be more Cursebreakers there too. Fetch them and then put that scouting nose to good use. I’ll leave an excellent trail for you to follow.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am. Trust me, Gav. I trust you.”

“Oh, pile the pressure on, why don’t you?” Gav sighs.

“You’re the best scout in Valisthea, no such thing as pressure. See you soon.”

You jog off before Gav can get another word in, leaving him in disbelief. It doesn’t take long to catch up with the Royalists ahead on the path and, without much thought of what you were doing, you dash past, stumbling on purpose and crashing to the ground in front of them.

They curse, two drawing their weapons immediately and the third keeping a tight grip on the child already in their custody. You hold your hands up in front of you, looking up at them, and begin to draw aether in deliberately slowly before a blade is pointed towards your chest.

“What’s this – a Bearer without a Brand?” The sword-wielder sneers, leaning down and pulling you up to your feet by your collar. “I’d say what a pity, but you’ve stumbled straight into our lap.”

“No,” another blade is held against your chin, forcing your head to the side. “She’s had it removed.”

“Isn’t that clever?” The first soldier circles you in interest. “Doesn’t matter if you’re Branded or not to us, though, you’ll still do.”

He grabs you by the back of the neck and forces your head down, his other hand twisting your arm around your back and pushes you forward in a march. It’s hard to see where to walk so your footing is clumsy as you try to remain upright. It helps in a way as you’re trampling the plants underfoot – hopefully enough for Gav to follow easily.

Eventually, you step out into a clearing and although your neck is still held, they allow you to raise your head at last to allow you to see a small carriage and a Chocobo waiting, with more Royalist soldiers mulling around. The carriage itself is tiny – it’s not one for passengers but for a small trader pedaling their goods. The doors are open, revealing a number of Bearers crammed already within its confines.

There’s a soldier with a pile of shackles and metal collars at his feet, waiting to prepare his cargo. You and the child are marched forward before you’re spun round and your hands are shackled tightly behind your back, swiftly followed by a metal collar fastened around your throat. A chain is then linked between the two, taut enough that it’s uncomfortable to find a balance. If you let your hands hang behind you, the chain goes tight and the collar presses tightly against your windpipe. You’re then pulled forward and shoved into the dark carriage, trying to shuffle yourself upright around the other captives.

The little girl is shoved in next and, as the doors close, plunging the carriage into darkness, you consider that this maybe wasn’t the best idea.

It’s hot – too many bodies crammed together in this cramped space. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth – what you’d do for a sip of water. It’s hard to try and get comfortable or anything resembling that. If you lean wrong the chain between the collar and the shackles tugs at your throat. The carriage is silent besides grunts of pain, gasps and soft sobs. One of the adult Bearers is doing their best to comfort the little girl, at least.

You want to reassure them, tell them you have a plan, your friends are coming… but you can’t quite find your voice in the moment.

After an unknown period of time, the carriage eventually sets out on its journey, rocking you and your fellow captives from side to side. You can only hope Gav picked up the trail you left, desperate as it was.

No – you know he will. There’s nothing you can do now you’re within the carriage, but you take solace in the fact the Chocobo and carriage wheels will leave trail – the amount of Bearers crammed in the small space will definitely gouge the earth underfoot.

It's hard to tell how long it’s been, but you’re hungry and even more thirsty by the time the carriage comes to an abrupt halt. The door is swiftly unlocked before the arm of a soldier reaches in, grabbing a Bearer at random by their shirt and pulling them out, causing them to wheeze as the collar presses at their throat.

The process is repeated until it’s your turn and you find yourself in a small cove at sunset, where a vessel bobs besides a dock far too small for it. The dock is obviously meant for fishing or rowing boats, but the Waloeders have improvised a narrow gangplank to board.

It’s a small merchant ship, shipping out Bearers right under the Empire’s nose.

You’re penned in by a group of soldiers and pulled forward one at a time to go up the narrow gangplank. Bearers are shaking and sobbing at the sight of the vessel – some know they aren’t going to survive the journey over and those that do will surely face a worse fate the other side.

Your stomach flips – you’re scared. The procession of Bearers continues at a pace. You are only a small group and the Royalists are obviously well-practised – it’s a professional operation. You dread to think of the numbers of Bearers they’ve shipped over so far.

You’re one of the two left on the cove when you’re yanked forward again by your top with such ferocity you nearly fall, being pushed towards the dock. If you get on that ship, it feels like it’s over.

Come on, Gav.

You’re only one step up the gangplank where there’s a yell from further up the cove.

Without warning, a cyclone of fire envelopes a group of soldiers standing guard, filling the air with the smell of scorched flesh and pained screams. As the fiery vortex dwindles, Clive emerges, sword aloft and looking mad as hell.

From behind him, Gav swings his own sword before the other Cursebreakers run into sight, engaging the remaining Waloeder soldiers. The guard escorting you on the ship pushes you forward, shouting something in an Ashen tongue to his brethren on the shore.

Green tendrils of light wrap around your captor and yank him back with the strength of Garuda onto the beach where Clive slices him down. You can see that the Cursebreakers have made quick work of the rest – the sand of the cove now stained a rusty red.

“You found us.” You breathe out in relief, walking back cautiously onto the dock and the sand where Clive stands, panting slightly in exertion. He sheathes his sword quickly and places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning you.

“Are you hurt?”

You go to shake your head but then decide against it, worried about the collar pressing against your windpipe again at the movement.

“I’m fine.” Your voice is a little hoarse from the thirst and constriction. “There’s seven on the ship, including a child – we need to…”

“On it!” Cole calls, darting past onto the ship.

Clive looks relieved for a moment.

“What were you thinking?” He growls, frustration etched all over his face. “No, you can’t have been thinking because if you had been, you would’ve realized this was irrational.”

“It was our only chance.”

“No, it wasn’t. This was reckless, foolish-“

“I, er, found these keys on one of the bastards.” Gav interrupts, holding them out in evidence. “Thought you might want those off, like.”

Clive grunts in appreciation, taking them from Gav’s outstretched hand and stepping around the back of you. He makes quick work of the shackles around your wrists and you immediately bring them round to your front, rubbing the feeling back into them. Despite Clive’s obvious frustration with you, he gently brushes your hair out of the way and places a firm hand on the back of your head as he inserts the key in the collar. The relief at the sound of the lock releasing is indescribable as the metal ring is finally removed from your neck. You imagine it had been to keep the Bearers compliant on the journey across the strait.

“Thank you.”

Clive steps back round to the front of you, mouth open, obviously ready to continue with his lecture but Gav gestures behind. “You should get the others out of those chains, Clive.”

“Right.” He nods at you, though with how high his shoulders are you know it’s not the end of it. He turns and meets the first Bearer cautiously walking back down the gangplank, speaking to them in a gentle tone.

Gav flings his arm around your shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you some water, eh?”

“Sit.” Clive points at the bench and you obey without hesitation. You thought you’d be sent off to the infirmary with the other Bearers, but as soon as you were on the loading dock Clive had placed a firm arm around you and escorted you directly to his chambers without a word.

You’re not sure you’ve ever sat on the bench before – any business between the two of you was conducted standing at his desk, hovering over a map or a missive.

He removes his sword from his back, leaning it against the wall before detaching his sheath and cape. He then starts to pace back and forth, obviously wrestling with what to say. You want this over with already – your mind is already thinking of how nice it’ll be to lie down in your bunk - so you decide you’ll break the silence.

“Clive,” you start cautiously, “I understand it wasn’t a well-thought through plan, but it was the only option.”

That makes him stop in his tracks and he meets your eyes, his fists clenching by his sides.

“You could’ve died.”

“Aren’t we fighting for a world where Bearers and Dominants can live and die on their own terms? I knew what I was doing, I knew the risks.”

“That ship was moments from setting sail.”

“I know.”

“What if we hadn’t have found it in time?”

“You did, though.”

“What if we didn’t?” He growls.

“I did what I had to.”

“You did not have to do that.”

“I couldn’t stand by and watch them ship those poor people off, especially that little girl. And I knew Gav would be able to track them-“

“What if he didn’t?”

You sigh, exasperated. You’re going round in circles. “It’s foolish playing these ‘what if’ games! I’ve already admitted that, yes, it wasn’t the most solid of plans, but I did what I had to do. You go out there every day and risk your life, the Cursebreakers do the same.”

“You could’ve been shipped off to Ash.”

“So could’ve all those Bearers.”

“That is not my point.” He growls again in response, turning his back to you and placing his palms flat on his desk.

“Then what is your point, Clive? We do this every day.”

His palms curl up into fists once more.

“My point is that I would’ve never seen you again!”

He slams his fist down on the desk – not in anger, but frustration.

“That you would’ve been stolen away to Ash and Founder knows what would become of you there. That…”

His voice cracks.

“That I would’ve spent the rest of my days chasing what happened to the woman I love!”

There is a long pause as you digest his words. You must’ve misheard.

“Did you… did you say love?”

His shoulders sag in the moment.

“I’m in love with you.” He’s still talking to the desk. “I have been for months, maybe years – I don’t know.” His fists uncurl again.

“But when Gav told me what you’d done, I couldn’t breathe. It took all I had in me not for Ifrit to come out there and then and destroy every being in my path until I saw you safe and unharmed.”

He turns then, strides over to you and drops to his knees, taking your hands in his own and looking up at what you can only imagine is your shell-shocked expression.

“I cannot lose you. Not you.”

“Clive, I…”

“I have tried to contain my feelings.” He continues. “I promise you I have tried, but I cannot do so any longer. Not when you are being so careless with what I hold most dear.” His eyes are watering, unable to hold his emotions within. “I understand that you do not feel the same but, please, do not break my he-“

You lean forward and cut him off, placing your lips on his own in a quick, chaste kiss before pulling back, leaving him speechless.

“You’re wrong.”

Clive does not need another word, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you almost frantically, like it might be his only chance. You run your fingers through his hair as you nip his lip, slipping your tongue in his mouth and matching his relentless pace. He stands, suddenly, bringing you up to stand with him. Barely another moment passes before he slides his hands down to your thighs, hoisting you up in his arms. You wrap your legs around him and he takes a step back…

The doors to Clive’s chambers fly open.

“Whoa!”

You and Clive pull apart, stunned. Gav is stood in the doorway, covering his eyes with his hand at the scene before him. “Sorry, I should’ve knocked. Erm…” He takes a blind step back, trying to find the doorway again to exit. “Tarja wanted to see the two of you for a check-up, like, but I’ll… I’ll tell her you’re taking care of that yourselves.”

“Thank you, Gav.” Clive nods, smirking, as he drops you gently back down to your feet. “I owe you a drink.”

“Many drinks.” The scout turns swiftly, and the door clunks shut behind him.

“Now, my lady,” he grins, placing a hand on your cheek, “where were we?”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #clive rosfield x female reader #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield #ff16 x reader #ff16 x you

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heejayy · 2 years

Text

Shuri U. || Liar

Warning • swearing, suggestive

Genre • lil angst, fluff

Pairing • Shuri x black Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

A/n: no this isn’t a toxic Shuri fic I’m not good at writing those so don’t get ur hopes up 😭 also I think i broke my tumblr 🫤

You lay on your bed completely heartbroken. Shuri promised you months ago she’d clear her schedule for a full weekend to come visit you on your birthday, but where is she no where to be seen.

[2 hours ago]

“Sooo” you giggled giddily “you still coming for my birthday?” You smile wider knowing the answer.

“Uh about that usana…I can’t make it, there was an emergency outside of the borders with traffickers and they need me.” Well that wasn’t the answer you were hoping to hear.

“Oh- well are they alright?” You asked sadly but still concerned for their wellbeing.

“They will be. We’ve tracked down the hostages and we will rescue them tonight”

“Well I know you’ll get them home safely, but still I want you to stay safe-“

“Ok sthandwa i have to go love you.”

She’s gsaving lives doing something important and I’m moping over her, was all you could think as you drifted to sleep.

You woke up exhausted feeling like absolute shit, your eyes were red and swollen and your head ached from crying yourself to sleep but hey it’s not a birthday if you don’t cry at least once.

You checked your phone noticing you slept in late- really late. Your eyes flickered to the date reminding you it was your birthday, the big two-one. You wish you were more excited but you weren’t. You were going to cut class and work to hang out with Shuri but oh wait she wasn’t here.

You lazily put together a decent outfit for the day and finished your morning routine even though it was evening time.

As your mind was preoccupied with other things you walked right out of your dorm room down the hall completely missing Riri.

“Damn I was gonna tell you happy birthday but you act like you didn’t even see me” startled you shook your head turning around.

“Ah shit my bad my mind was elsewhere” she frowned, you guessed she knew.

“Yeah she told me she wasn’t gonna make it I’m sorry boo” you waved her off sighing.

“It’s ‘ight” she nodded taking a second to observe your outfit.

“The fuck are you wearing? It’s your birthday not a damn funeral” she said wearing a disgusted look as she stared at you. You frowned looking down at your outfit, you had on black flared leggings, a black long sleeve shirt with red and black vans.

“What I’m just going to class?!” You whined slightly offended. I might as well try to make it to my last class you thought.

“What the hell?! CLASS?! Y/n we’re going out…like now so go change” she spun you around by your shoulders pushing you to your dorm room.

“But what’s the point of going out? My plans are ruined” you sulked stomping down trying to stop her.

“Just because your lover girl isn’t here” she spoke between grunts trying to get you to budge “doesn’t mean you’re having a shitty birthday. No ma’am not on my watch.”

“Ooh yup I like this one- oh yes this one and…oh that’ll look absolutely amazing together!” You sat on the floor picking at your fur rug watching Riri put together your birthday outfit. As much as you appreciated this you still couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate without your girl.

“Come on y/n/n stand up get ready we don’t have all day!” She yanked you up by your arm throwing a bunch of clothes you forgot you had into your arms.

“Ok so I paired that white body con mini dress you had with that beige coat along with those white thigh high boots… oh my-“ she took a pause placing her hand on her chest pretending to cry “you’re gonna look so fucking good” You rolled your eyes slightly laughing at her being dramatic. As you watched her wonder around your room looking for other accessories a concerning thought popped into your head.

“Ri how’d you even get into this building- wait let alone this campus there are no visitors allowed?” she peered at you puckering her lips.

“I might’ve hacked the security system- but it was only to see my favorite girl for her birthday don’t judge me” She rolled her eyes turning back around to finish finding accessories.

While Riri was in her own little world singing, you stared out the window watching all the street lights blends together.

“Oh my god are you gonna wear that long face all night? Y/n cheer up you’re twenty one you’re finally allowed to drink!” You shook her head at her liveliness.

“I don’t drink” your comment was met with a drawn out ‘Lame’ from her.

She swerved into the parking lot behind a moving line of cars out of curiosity your peered out the window reading the bright lit sign.

“Nobu?! NOBU?! Riri we’re two broke college students you think we can afford Nobu?” She rolled her eyes “just get out” You huffed following her lead as she gave her keys to the valet.

She strutted up to the lady behind the reservation desk “excuse me we’re with Ms. Udaku” the hostess nodded smiling “right this way ma’am”

You followed behind them thinking you’ve lost your entire mind, did she say Udaku? Like Shuri Udaku? My Shuri?!

Your questions were quickly answered when you came to a secluded area of the restaurant, and there waited Shuri sitting with a smirk in her face.

“Surprise!” Riri grinned giving you a big hug, you were so out of it you barely hugged her back.

“Wha- I- Shuri!” Shuri’s smiled grew wider as she stood to greet you. “Sthandwa you’d think I’d truly miss your birthday?” She brought you into a tight loving hug. You missed her hugs, so warm, they felt like home. You wrapped your arms around her loving the feeling of being in her arms again. As she pulled away you caught a scent of her perfume, god you could sniff her all day. She smelled like heaven.

“You know I absolutely hate you guys I can’t believe you lied to me” they both shrugged giggling evilly.

“I can’t lie though Shuri, it was hard I almost gave in a few times I mean she was just so hurt” Shuri pouted at Riri’s confession.

“Awe my usana” Shuri cooed pecking your lips, that peck turned into a full kiss and then Shuri found her hand creeping up your thigh.

“Well that’s my cue love birds, I’ll see you at the hotel we can gift give there. Also thanks for the dinner Shuri” Riri said scurrying away before Shuri could say you’re welcome. You giggled watching her leave, but Shuri gently grabbed your chin bringing your attention back to her.

“Don’t look at other women you’ll make me jealous” she gazed at you with sultry eyes as her thumb grazed your bottom lip. You rolled your eyes not even bothering to fight back a flustered smile.

“Don’t think you’re in my good graces cutie, your sweet words and this tennis bracelet isn’t gonna cut it” you said referring to the gift she gave you when you first arrived. Although you couldn’t lie it was beautiful, it was a vine tennis bracelet from Tiffany and Co. and you were positive it costs a pretty penny.

Shuri tilted her head fake pouting “maybe this’ll make up for it?” you felt her place her slide closer up your thigh, the more it crept closer to your heat the wetter you became. You could feel it soaking through your thin panties you wore. “God you look so sexy tonight” she whispered near your ear sending chills down your back. You haven’t seen her in so long you almost forgot how her touch affected you. As your lips were inches apart, you could feel her breath hitting yours and the more you leaned in the more she pulled away. What a tease.

“Would you like dessert to go?” You snatched back looking up at the waitress. She wore a small smirk holding a tray as she piled your dishes on. You blinked rapidly feeling your entire body heat up with embarrassment, damn you forgot where your were.

“Yes please” Shuri calmly answered as if nothing happened. The waitress gave a smile nodding “I won’t take too long.” She winked leaving.

“Oh I so hate you” you muttered still flustered from her.

She chuckled “No you don’t.”

Shuri Masterlist

©heejayy 2023 — any reposts outside of tumblr or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission 🤍

Borders- @firefly-graphics

#shuri fluff #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x black!fem reader #shuri imagine #shuri x you #shuri x reader #marvel imagine #lesbian #x black reader #letitia wright #letitia wright shuri #black panther x reader #lgbtqia

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yayforocs · 6 months

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felt awkward to tack this on the prev post so i'm,.,,,,,,,,, here

but!! i'm not just gonna like Make An OC and then only ever have one drawing and a small blurb about them and then just never acknowledge them again, no!! i gotta properly doodle and figure things about about the character and Make Them A Proper Character!!! so i doodled more of aron's helsmet :VVV

and then also. wrote about aron's helsmet. to feel out the character and explore around how she and her person interact with and feel about each other :VVVVV

Posting the one-shot under the cut!!!

It had been a good hour and a half of solid work when the redstoner, hunched over a worktable with bits and bobs in hand, realized she didn't have enough redstone to finish what she'd wanted to get done for the day. She bit back an irritated sigh, and opted to check the drawers under her work table. None there, just like there was none in her backup storage on the other side of the room, just like there was none in her inventory. She let the sigh loose as she slumped into her chair, and ran her hand down her face. Her eyes glanced to the project currently taking up her free time: while right now it was a mess of metal and circuitry, one day it was going to be a pair of glider wings. Gods and saints knew she wasn't ever going to get her hands on any elytra or her counterpart's wings, so she knew she'd have to make them on her own if she wanted them. This did mean, however, a visit that she didn't want to bother with, ever, preferably. But she couldn't afford to pay anyone else to make any sort of supply runs for her, and wasn't sure she'd even want to anyway- she felt ripped off last time she'd tried that.

Resigned, she pushed herself up to standing, and started rummaging around in her chests for supplies. Pickaxes, armor, torches, sword, anything she needed for a run. Several minutes later, she stood with a ready inventory in the middle of the room, hands on her hips as she let her eyes wander over everything. ...And keep wandering over everything.

Hels help her, she did not want to go.

But she rolled her eyes at her own stupid procrastination, and looked to the nearest light source- currently her lamp on the desk- and focused. And briefly, inexplicably, she felt traces of warmth on her skin as from the sun, and could swear a faint breeze barely rustled her hair as she caught a slight whiff of something fresh and green and growing. Trees. A forest.

Better put her armor on first, then. Feather falling would only help so much, but better than nothing. And besides, her other's competence in flying would be enough to keep them from crashing too hard, she was confident in that much. She buckled the boots on with a grim smirk.

At least she'd get to have fun with it.

Enchantment on, she again focused on the light, mentally preparing to act fast as soon as she was over. The light, and slowly, everything else in the room, fuzzed into white as she tipped over the precipice of spatial travel, and went into freefall. Her stomach flipped as new surroundings blinked into view, namely open sky, and her hand shot out and grabbed at the green blur in her peripheral.

"Ack-!"

She'd caught hold, and the two spun out.

"What are-?!"

The world somehow righted, and she silently gripped the harness strap she'd managed to nab as they awkwardly stilted through the trees down to the ground. It wasn't as hard of a landing as she'd hoped- they still both stumbled around each other and ended up on their knees at the end of it- but she'd take what she could get.

"What was that for?" her other, Aron, asked, breathless.

She didn't answer, instead looking around at their surroundings. Should be something decent nearby. She set off in a direction.

"Hey, wait wait wait-!" Aron called, jogging to catch up. "Nice to see you, too," she said sarcastically, and was again met with silence. It stuck for a second or two before Aron started again. "Really, though, like- I could feel when you were about to- I can get down to the ground before you do that, probably, just like- can you wait next time, maybe?"

"I know you can," she responded, but otherwise didn't answer.

Aron made a flabbergasted noise. "Then why- we could've both been hurt! Or respawned!"

She just shrugged.

There was the start of a reply behind her, and then it cut off with a sigh.

They walked in silence for a second.

"...So what are you doing?"

"Why d'you need to know?"

"I dunno, it's- I mean, if- I could help you with something."

She'd just tried to- why would- ugh. This was why she didn't like her. Always tried to kiss up to everyone.

Or kiss up to her, at least. Absolutely useless gesture.

"I'm gettin’ materials, if you really have to know. And no, I don't need you to come with. What part of I Tried To Take Us Both Out Of The Sky made you think I'd want help?"

The steps behind her stopped, and she relaxed a little- but then they started up again.

"Well, it's- it's just dangerous in the caves and such by yourself, so... You prob'ly should have help, y'know? Besides, I uh... I was going to get materials, too."

Great.

Perfect.

Wonderful.

...And yet, she had to acknowledge one of Aron's points. Caving was dangerous on your own, particularly when you were still unaccustomed to all of the dangers this world was only too keen to provide. Having a second person... could be useful, she supposed.

She sighed.

"Fine. Anything happens to me, I'm gonna blame you."

“Ok! Um, that- that works, you can do that. Uh… the cave I was gonna go to was over there.” She assumed Aron pointed, and a glance back showed she did, off to the left. “I’d marked it the other day, but I never went in to check it out properly. We could…?”

Well, it’d be quicker than trying to find one on her own. She pivoted, and quietly snerked when Aron just about ran into her.

She heard Aron take in a breath, but didn’t find out if she was going to comment on the pivot or the laugh because she apparently thought better of it and didn't say anything at all.

—-----

Surprisingly, Aron was fairly quiet for the trip to the cave- and even when they arrived, she was still quiet aside from the occasional callout- she needed the coal here, the iron over there would be good, she’ll grab this gravel real quick to try for flint later. It was something she reciprocated, if only for sake of not losing each other.

It was… weird.

And nice.

It almost felt like she was alone, really, but without the worries of having to constantly watch her back. She kept an eye on the front, and Aron faithfully kept up the rear.

At one point, they found a huge dripstone cavern. Even upon first glance it was clear there was a lot of loot to be had- and mobs to clear out. Aron provided a water bucket for a safe decent.

She noticed Aron didn’t use her wings to get down, instead going down the water after her.

She wasn’t sure whether she was insulted or not.

“If you don’t mind me asking, um- what’re you getting materials for?”

And there it was. Asked with the worst timing, as well, because they were reaching the bottom.

So all she answered with was, “Mobs,” and pulled her sword and shield out, to which Aron awkwardly conceded and pulled out her own weapon.

The blessed lack of conversation resumed as they circled out from their drop point, throwing down torches and clearing out what they could.

But no good thing lasts forever, and when no mobs were in sight, Aron brought it up again.

“So- since they’re all gone, what uh- what’re the materials for?”

“I’m makin’ a giant bomb to drop off at your base next time I visit.”

“I- sorry, what?” Aron squeaked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Bein’ facetious. It’s a personal project. Not for you.”

“...Oh.”

Silence, only broken by a faint skeleton’s clatter that was too far off to bother with. She spotted some iron and opened her mouth to call it, but Aron spoke first.

“Oh, hey, uh- there’s some uh- there’s some gold up there.” Aron pointed to a crevice, and they both set off towards it. She’d get the iron after.

“...Um, also, I know you don’t want- me to call you… my name.” Oh hels, this again. “But it’s… kinda weird to just like- ‘hey’ at you, y’know? Um. Is there anything that uh… you’d like to be called?”

Truth be told, this was something that’d stuck with her the last time they’d had this discussion and though, at the time, she gave no answer at all and made sure to be plenty rude about it, she’d mulled it over a bit. Eventually, she did come up with something, though it was a tad on-the-nose.

It was just Aron in reverse. Nora. Simple, but it seemed fitting, all things considered.

But she didn’t want Aron to ever call her that, let alone call her any sort of consistent name ever, so she didn’t say anything about wanting to be called Nora.

“No.”

“Like… not even a nickname, or anything…?”

“Nah. Keep ‘hey’ing me all you want. Or… um- something. Don’t call me anything. No names.” Nora reached the gold first. Aron let her have them, apparently stumped by her answer. Or stunned, either way. “Saw some iron back there,” she said after grabbing the grand total of two pieces of gold ore, and started back towards it without checking if she was being followed. The footsteps behind her told her she didn’t need to. As she walked, she looked to the side- and down. There was a whole other level to the cavern below them, and she was already attempting to take stock of what there was down there. It was really dark, so she couldn’t hardly see anything, but she thought she might could make out some redstone in the wall closer to the top.

Finally.

Clattering bones sounded again suddenly, much closer than they had been before, and she turned just in time to get an arrow to her shoulder. She gasped, hand darting to it as she stumbled back from the hit- and then all air escaped her lungs as she slipped right off the edge and plummeted. Air whistled past her ears as she somehow managed to wriggle herself to face the ground, desperately trying to get her water bucket out despite the fact that she’d never actually had to clutch before and didn’t even know if she could but she was falling too fast and couldn’t wrestle the darn thing out in time and

She jerked as her momentum was suddenly swooped to the side. Nora wheezed, the pull stretching her coveralls tight against her throat, but as they slowed to a stop in the near pitch-black, she decided she did at least prefer that to dying and having to come back again later. Aron settled them against the ground smoothly, making sure Nora was on her feet before clicking her wings back into place.

“Are you-” Groans started filling the cavern. “Right-! Right, shelter first, right yes, um-” Nora screwed her eyes shut as Aron threw a torch down, the light blinding on eyes that had been attempting to adjust. “UhhHH over here!” Aron grabbed at Nora’s wrist, but she jerked it away. Aron halted awkwardly, and glanced up, making eye contact.

Nora couldn’t even come up with anything to say, and upon realizing she didn’t have time to anyways, shouldered past Aron (on her good side, of course) and stalked towards the wall behind her. Probably, hopefully, where Aron had been planning on going anyway. She pulled out a pickaxe and slammed it into the wall, biting back a yelp as it jarred her hurt shoulder. Once her other joined her they made quick work of digging out an alcove and quickly dropping materials in front to block them in. This time, Nora already had her eyes shut when Aron stuck a torch down in the small space. Eyes still closed, she leaned back against the wall, this time wincing, and slid down it, a now emptied hand going back to her shoulder. The arrow was still in it.

“Do you need-”

“I don’t have any potions on me.”

“-Ah. I think I do, um…” Aron started digging in her bag, and after a second, triumphantly pulled out two. “Ah! I do! Um, here, I can-”

“Just give it,” Nora hissed, jerking forwards and snatching one out of Aron’s hand- and Aron flinched back, breath hitching for just a moment. Nora purposefully wasn’t looking at her, and wasn’t watching out of the corner of her eye as she tried to tear the cork out with her teeth, and definitely didn’t notice the solid second it took for Aron’s shoulders to- possibly forcefully- relax.

Except she definitely was and did, and puffed out a breath through her nose at Aron’s reaction. Good. She needed to keep Aron on her toes anyway. Or something like that.

If only the stupid bottle would-

“Um. …here,” Aron said quietly, holding out the other bottle. She’d already pulled the cork out. Nora paused, fixing her eyes on the bottle. After a second, she put the one she’d been wrestling one-handed in her pocket and took the offered one. And then promptly downed it, and before she could second-guess what she was doing, she grabbed the arrow and yanked it out as hard as she could- and it hurt.

But she wasn’t going to cry- not here, not in front of Aron, not while the healing potion was already making her want to scratch her whole shoulder clean off, not while she was gripping it in iron fingers with eyes scrunched and teeth bared and backed against the wall.

And then it was over, and she was fine.

She was fine.

Slowly, she took a breath, and then another, eyes still shut, head tilting back against the wall.

She didn’t want to have to acknowledge literally anything that happened in the past two minutes.

She didn’t want to acknowledge how stupid it had been to walk that close to the edge, didn’t want to acknowledge Aron swooping in, didn’t want to acknowledge the potions, Aron's reaction, none of it. At all.

Aron probably wouldn’t let her not acknowledge it in some form or fashion, but she still had the two of them sit in silence for as long as Aron could stand it.

…Which turned out to be a lot longer than Nora thought it would be. The silence stretched on, slowly becoming thick with awkward air that apparently neither wanted to address.

“Oh.”

Nora glanced up at the hushed statement. Aron was staring at the wall. Nora’s eyes followed the line of sight.

Embedded in the wall right above her head was redstone ore.

“Oh,” she echoed.

They stared at the redstone.

And then with a sigh, Nora pushed herself up, and then pulled her pickaxe out.

It turned out to be a decent-sized vein. Still not as much as she wanted, but at least it was something to work with. She could pull out now if she wanted to.

She glanced back at the torch.

…She didn’t want to have to come back for a while. She took in a breath, and looked over at Aron.

“I need more.”

Aron nodded, and then pushed herself up as well. After a moment, they broke the wall down and began clearing out mobs.

—-----

Too much time passed before Nora blinked back into her home. Aron had tried to say a goodbye once she realized Nora was leaving, though she hadn’t managed to get it out quick enough. But it was enough that Nora could tell what she was trying to say.

She wandered into her workroom, and looked around.

Despite her looking at everything in the room, she wasn’t really seeing it all, almost looking past the room as her mind sat and dwelled.

She really shouldn’t have accepted the help in the first place. She knew it was good that she did, in the end, and she knew she would have been in a lot worse of a spot if she hadn’t, and things would have been a lot more frustrating in different ways, but.

No matter how much she tried.

No matter how much she tried, Aron still tried harder. And it was so frustrating, because it was working.

Everything, everything- from the open lack of hostility despite everything Nora threw at her or didn’t, despite Nora trying to take them both down from the get-go, despite the words and the pushing and the anger- Aron still tried.

And the kicker was that it was genuine. Aron could be a tad idiotic going about it, but the genuine friendly intent was still there.

Nora inhaled for a long second, and then released slowly.

She walked to her desk, and pulled redstone out of her inventory, then paused when something shifted against her leg.

Her hand dug in her pocket, and pulled out the other health potion.

…This was why she didn’t like her.

Because even though she grabbed her mid-flight, she knew they wouldn’t crash.

Because even though she was rude, Aron wanted to help.

Because even though she shouldn’t, Aron wanted a name to call her by.

Because even though the universe pitted them against each other, Aron cared too much to let her fall.

Because even if their positions were swapped, Nora would have done the same.

Because even though Aron startling was good, she still felt guilty about scaring her.

She didn't like her because no matter how hard she tried not to, she did anyway.

Nora stared at the health potion.

She put it down.

She took a breath.

She got to work.

#redstone and skulk #👉👈#helsmet oc #nora #aron #writing #good night it felt really weird tho to write aron from an outside perspective

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sgiandubh · 6 months

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Gooooodnight! Did you manage to finish watching the movie after all? What do you think?

Dear Ford v. Ferrari Anon,

Just finished it, after four failed attempts to get into the right mood - local time, 1:45 AM, Thursday morning. As you might know, Cancer people are very stubborn (even pertinacious) people and I am no exception to the rule.

I now totally understand why so many people wondered if I was really watching it, or confessed they could be remotely interested in doing so for about ten minutes, tops. The start is horrifically lackadaisical and I hit stop four times in a row, increasingly frustrated and feeling like a brain scattered idiot. But if you persist, this little movie, eons away from my world, could actually surprise you for the better.

Three tiny things redeemed it from the scrapheap for me: a) the Sixties, b) that Mad Men aesthetics and c) Lee Iacocca. Once this very familiar guy hit the screen, I knew I would be glued to whatever shite happened on it for the duration. Mind you, not the actor (entirely forgettable), but the business honcho whose Autobiography I read by complete accident at around 16. My brain could finally relate to something and start to make sense out of a completely alien, bloody mess. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, things began to emerge: the script is so fucked up, I couldn't help but wonder what possessed someone as discerning as C to go for it. Other than a ferocious will to be there (anywhere, really), for further consideration, of course.

This is an underdog story through and through, and with a little bit of luck it could have been Oscar material. The reason it isn't so relies entirely on the writer's frail shoulders: I can't be arsed to check whodunit, but that person clearly bit more than they could ever chew. No Christian Bale and no Matt Damon could have dragged that script to Premier League, no matter how hard the effort. And the same person who wrote that Bale presented himself at the TIFF as a sociopathic boor has always deeply appreciated his past stellar performances (Empire of the Sun immediately comes to mind, of course). Seriously, I did and this movie is no exception: he is way better than I would have expected, especially when compared to a disappointing Damon.

What about C, then? In this very Anglo-Saxon sports stew, let's say she is an indispensable condiment, despite the absolute lack of chemistry with Bale and the sometimes formulaic presence, allowing for simplistic and expected dramatic solutions to complex situations. As in S's case, she sometimes drags along her Claire Fraser mannerisms, although less conspicuously than in Belfast elsewhere (or was it because we really don't get to see her a lot?). This particular script left me hungry for more, and not in a good way. She was very much there, she clearly worked very hard for it and yet, it feels as if she were obliterated, for some reason. That film didn't do her justice and scenes like the car tantrum could only give you a sort of nostalgic 'what if' idea:

youtube

Easily my favorite C scene of the whole movie (spoiler: there aren't many at all). But let's be blunt, here: if you have no idea about who C is, no OL mystique to boot and you just watch that movie leisurely, you'd blink twice and miss her. And not remember her at all, perhaps.

Would I recommend it? I am not sure, despite Bale's Golden Globe nomination and two rather technical Oscars (for Film and Sound Editing). It could be me, after all and sports movies have never been my jam. It's a decent way to fill in two hours and a half of emptiness, but not nearly good enough for a re-watch. I'd be merciful and give it ⭐⭐/5. For the Sixties, my Paradise Lost.

Happy, Anon?

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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docholligay · 9 months

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Dr. Holligay Tries Things That Aren't Running: Oula One

So, continuing with my very sexy and respectable journey to win a high-priced and totally unnecessary kitchen item, I come hot off the heels of my hilariously and gloriously slow three mile run to the noble choice of: Whatever class is available to me at 9 am and in a decent spot on my bingo card.

That's Oula One, babes! Do I know what Oula One is? Not even fucking REMOTELY. Do i know that it is a stepping stone to winning really stupid kitchen appliances? Oh fuck yes. Let's go.

An incredibly kind woman greets me by introducing herself, shaking my hand, and explaining that it's a yoga dance fusion class.

Excellent! I hate yoga! I scream with my entire mind.

She must have heard me with her third ear or somethinking, because she's smiling and telling me not to worry, because it's all about doing what feels good in my body. Great! I hate doing what feels good in my body! Part of the reason I hate yoga is it is neither fun nor punishing. I LOVE to be taken to the end of my tether. One of my favorite activities of last year was our 24 hour run, where I ended up with cactus spines through my toe. Running lets me take myself to the redline and see if I can cross the finish line before the engine explodes. Boot camp tells me that I'm fucking weak, and I can drag myself in a full plank across a gym floor, can't I? Work harder, it screams. This is great for me! I love feeling like I could not possibly have given one more inch.

Yoga, on the other hand, is both very difficult, and not punishing. I can't touch my hand flat palmed to the floor, but neither do I feel broken by pushing to it. I am just bored! I am an extremely hyperactive human being and sitting cross legged grounding myself is probably against the Geneva Convention. I want to crawl out of the classroom like an inchworm.

But here I am! In a dynamic yoga class, sitting on the floor in my damn booty booty ass ass running shorts, which are very practical on a track but less so here. I was wearing sloth underwear today and everyone knew it. You're welcome. Since I'm here, I am going to give it my best try, and I am going to go in with an open mind.

Twist ending for me most of all: I actually sort of enjoyed it! It moves much faster than a normal yoga class, but you repeat the moves a lot and can get deeper and deeper into them. It's extremely hippy-dippy, which I absolutely am not, and I had to muffle my laughter when she was like, 'This song is about keeping our shadow self near us" but...I am somewhat older than y'all so i don't know if you have this experience.

So picture a party, and there's a lot of weed at this party. Now, you don't smoke weed because it makes you strange in ways you don't like, but you do like partying, and there's some extremely suspect but deeply alcoholic Homebrew "mead" and you're making the best of it, and besides you need a favor from the guy you came with because you want to buy shrooms for the meteor shower backpacking trip a few weekends from now (I realize I have touched the absolute heart of tumblr right now, and you all are nodding in agreement at this very relatable scenario) This person is like a lot of the people who always had weed before everyone did, and so there are dyed silks hanging from her walls, and Loreena McKennitt is playing in the background, and you're definitely a little buzzed, and getting kind of a contact high, and then people start to dance. They dance with these big, open swirls of their body, and almost certainly someone is wearing moss green.

That is how I would describe the yoga-dance fusion at this class. Easy to follow, very vibes-based, and heavily based in big, open moves that give good stretch. Seeing as it takes an act of God and Congress for me to stretch, forcing myself to go do it every week or ever every other would not be the worst thing.

I cannot BELIEVE I am saying this, but I would go again.

Definitely without the ass shorts though.

#things that aren't running

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hslllot · 2 years

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A Soft Landing

2.2K words | harry x reader

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First, I’d like to thank everyone for their encouragement and patience when it comes to posting for ASPTF. Although I’m not finished the next part, I thought I’d share this blurb that was originally meant to be in part 3 (that hasn’t been posted yet). So, there are things that are mentioned in this that you might either think are a little spoiler-y OR a little bit of a sneak peek of what’s to come! Second, this was the sweet piece I had in mind for the Sweet and Spicy Fic Challenge that I started with @harry-on-broadway and @harrysblackcoat. I will post the inspo at the end! Enjoy!

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Harry considered himself a pretty athletic guy.

He was capable of running around stage for hours, engaging proper breathing techniques in order to sing and jump around at the same time. He worked out regularly, went on a run nearly every day, and often went to pilates classes. He liked boxing and was decent at footie (when he actually managed to get to a game).

Even when it came to winter sports, he was pretty confident. He’d gone on plenty of ski trips before and managed to stay upright on a skating rink.

Imagine his surprise when he realized he was shit at snowshoeing.

It all started with dinner with you and your brother and a few glasses of wine. In an effort to embarrass you, your brother brought up your stuffed animal collection. When he mentioned a stuffed elephant that you were extremely attached to, even as you got older, your mouth dropped in embarrassment. You smacked him in the arm before you admitted that you hadn’t seen your elephant, Bubba, since you moved to Vancouver.

“He’s probably somewhere in the shed at the cabin.” Your brother said.

It was nearly imperceptible but Harry noticed the way your eyes lit up for a fraction of a second at the possibility of finding Bubba. And at that moment, Harry commited to finding him.

In fact, after dinner he got back to the cabin and couldn’t get it off his mind. He stood at the back window and looked out at the large wooden shed, lit by the glow of the moonlight. He wondered what else was in there that might’ve belonged to you. Your old belongings, parts of you, waiting to be discovered. He bundled himself up, grabbed the flashlight from the closet, and trudged through the snow and out to the shed.

When he started pulling boxes from the shelves, he realized it was basically a museum of all your old stuff. Books and old movies, scrapbooks filled with photos of your childhood friends, even old clothes. You probably didn’t even know what was in there, but if your mother was anything like his, she probably kept it all for its sentimental value “just-in-case” you might want to revisit your 2nd grade report card.

He spotted the snowshoes on the way out of the shed. He’d seen snowshoes before and knew what they were, yet, it was an activity he’d never tried before. And, maybe, another reason to hang out with you. So he grabbed the contraptions from where they were hung on the wall, along with a few other things he discovered in the shed, and decided to ask you to show him how to use them.

When you came around the next day, Harry chose not to tell you why he had been in the shed in the first place. And you chose not to ask (even though you had an idea why).

You told him that snowshoeing was a fairly easy activity, basically a way to walk through the snow.

“The large surface area of the shoe makes it easier to move on top of deep powder” you explained, showing him the way the straps worked and how it would attach to his boot.

When he asked you if anyone could do it, you responded: “If you can walk, you can snowshoe.” And so he thought, how hard could it be?

The two of you planned to spend the afternoon snowshoeing. The sun was out and you claimed that it was a great way to explore some of the snow covered trails that he hadn’t been able to explore yet.

“Are those ski poles?” he asked, as you pulled all of the necessary equipment out of your parents’ shed. You brought your own shoes from your parents’ house, but grabbed the extra set and some poles that were being stored at the cabin, figuring that they would be a better fit for Harry.

“They’re snowshoe poles,” You replied. “We can adjust them for different snow heights. They’ll probably be helpful when we reach some steeper parts of the trail.”

Harry nodded, deferring to your expertise when it came to anything winter and mountain-related. He thought back to the hike the two of you did last week, the way you guided him through the rough terrain and icy scramble with ease. The way you squeezed his hand when the two of you finally made it to the summit. The way the icy wind painted your cheeks red and made your eyes water while you smiled down at the valley below. The way he couldn’t decide what he liked looking at more, the view from atop the mountain, or you.

The glee you felt at the top of the mountain was contagious, and he couldn’t wait to go on another adventure with you.

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Harry remembered how cold it was on your hike last week, so he made sure to wear some extra layers, along with the new puffer coat he bought at your parents’ shop the other day.

“What ‘ve you got in there?” He asked, pointing at the bag you were strapping to your back.

“Just some snacks. Figured we might want to find a place to sit along the trail and enjoy the sunshine. Oh, don’t forget your sunglasses.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his sunglasses as you made your way out the door and into the winter wonderland. The pinpricks of the cold mountain air contrasted by the heat of the sunshine beaming down on you. You stopped at the end of the porch to strap into the snowshoes, your eyes on Harry’s hands and the way they deftly attached the straps across his boots, just the way you had shown him how to.

You walked around the snow-covered land surrounding the cabin, encouraging Harry to practice walking around and getting used to the objects strapped to his feet.

“Just like walking, right?” You asked him.

“Yea, seems pretty easy.” You knew Harry would have no trouble walking around with the shoes on flat terrain.

“So when we get to some uphill parts of the trails, you’ll want to make sure you use your toe to kick into the snow,” you demonstrated, prompting him to mirror your movements. “And then strike with your heal when we’re going downhill.”

You asked Harry if he felt ready to hit the trail, and he felt pretty confident that it wouldn’t be much different from a regular hike. Besides that, he felt like you were really good at explaining things and knew you would guide him along the way.

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It was as the two of you made your way up a particularly steep part of the trail that he started feeling a bit hot. He bundled up extra warm, not realizing how much of a workout he would be getting with the snowshoes, or that you would be so out in the open under the hot sun. He realized wearing a long sleeve shirt, under the hoodie, under the NorthFace puffer was a bit much. It didn’t help that the muscles in his hips and groin area were starting to burn from having to walk with wider-than-normal strides so that he didn’t step on the insides of the snowshoes.

You were ahead of him on the trail, recounting the conversation you had with your boss yesterday. He tried his best to listen to your story, but was hyper aware of the sweat soaking his back. Why didn’t you look as tired as he was starting to feel? He wondered.

“You ok?” You asked, stopping in your tracks when you noticed it had been a while since he said anything. You looked back to make sure he was OK.

“‘m fine.” He muttered, making an effort to catch up to you. If you were being honest, he looked like he was struggling, but you didn’t want to say anything. Instead you waited for him to meet you where you were and decided you would take it slower the rest of the way up.

When the two of you were side by side, you eyed him to make sure he was actually fine before continuing up the trail.

“So did you remember to FaceTime your mom last night?”

Your question didn’t fully register in his brain. It was like it happened in slow motion, the way his foot kicked out a bit too far and the heel edge of his snow shoe dug into the powder at the wrong angle. He flew backwards, the hiking poles useless when it came to helping him regain his footing. He let himself fall, knowing the fluffiness of the snow protected him, barely feeling the force of gravity in the collision.

You looked to find him on his back, and made sure to hold back laughter until you assessed the situation in case he was hurt. He took his sunglasses off and wiped the snow off his face, wearing a smile that indicated that he was fine - his face tinged a bit red, whether it was from the cold or from embarrassment you were unsure.

After a few seconds, you couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter. Harry propped himself up, leaning back on his elbows in the snow. He shook the snow from his hair and you noted the stray wet curl that had fallen on his forehead.

Could he get any cuter? You thought to yourself.

“Ah yes, very funny. Keep laughing!” He said. “You just gonna stand there, or help me up?”

“Hey, if you’re going to fall, it might as well be in a foot of powder,” you said as he jokingly rolled his eyes and reached his hand out to you.

Taking his gloved hand in yours, instant regret washed over you.

You should have seen it coming. You should have noticed the glint in his eye and the devilish grin he wore as he reached out to you. By the time you did notice, it was too late, and instead of pulling himself up he dragged you down with him. Unlike him, you didn’t have the reaction time to catch yourself before faceplanting in the snow.

“HA!” He cackled and you could feel the way he shook in laughter while you remained face down in the snow. When you finally turned yourself over onto your back, you feigned annoyance and he muttered an insecere “sorry” with the biggest grin plastered across his face. He could tell you were holding back a smile too, though, your face wet with eyelashes covered in snow.

As his laughter died down he admitted, “if ‘m honest, this is harder than I thought it’d be.”

You nodded. “I probably could have chosen an easier trail…” You didn’t want to admit that you chose the harder trail because it would take longer, allowing you to spend the entire afternoon together. You knew Harry was a fit guy, and that snowshoeing on a normal, flatter trail would have been too easy. Too quick.

“Maybe now’s a good time for a break? Snack time?”

Harry agreed. “Do you have room in your pack for one of my layers?”

Nodding, you pulled two prepared sandwiches out of your bag. You went to hand one to Harry when you looked up and found him undressing next to you. You couldn’t help but stare when he pulled his hoodie over his head, the shirt underneath riding up to reveal his tattooed torso.

Harry caught you staring, but made a conscious effort not to say anything, so not to embarrass you. Instead he said, “trade you?” pulling you out of your stupor.

You handed him a sandwich before taking the hoodie from his hands and stuffing it into the bag. He could tell you were a bit flustered, and he thought it was endearing.

The two of you sat in the snow for a while, eating your snacks under the sun. He told you about the FaceTime call he had with his mother the night before, and asked you to retell the story about your conversation with your boss, since he’d been too distracted to listen before. And as you told your story animatedly, between bites of your sandwich, Harry couldn’t help but think: You were right. If he was going to fall, there’s no better, softer, place to fall than in a foot of powder… with you.

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As random as it might seem, my inspiration for this was this photo…

Imagine Harry, leaning back like this, propped up on his elbows surrounded by snow and sunshine, grinning like that because he just dragged you into the snow with him.

Anyways… Thank you so much for reading!! As always, please let me know what you think. You can read the first two parts of ASPTF here. I look forward to posting part 3!! It’s going to be a long one… (ps yes I changed all the ASPTF headers because harry was literally papped wearing the exact puffer that MC and her parents wear in the first two parts!)

COME TALK TO ME!

#a soft place to fall #my writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #SweetandSpicyFicChallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff

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rasshu-benaiokny · 11 months

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〚 Scrawny Debt Collector 〛MDNI

• An inspired Gyutaro x OC (Rasshu) NSFW Fic + Pic (at end)

• Based off of the Unfinished "The New Girls Boots" fanfiction

• NSFW: Non-con, Intimidation, sex at work, closed hours, intoxication, virgin.

• Both featured characters are 20+

〚 Setting & Feel 〛

A modern AU where a new lady has been hired at the busy office building; Rasshu Benaio. She is lively and sweet but she hides her positive traits under a veil of aggression if she's scared. Unfortunately, she is scared of the ugly tall man who collects debts for the business; Gyutaro.

〚 Uwah, Lets Go! 〛

It's been a good 6-8 months since Rasshu started working at this nice place. She's a part of the marketing crew as she's in charge of designing ads for Kimetsu events along with Tengen; one of the flashy mascot-like men for such a huge business!

Watching the stars pour out into the black-blue sky outside her window, Rasshu furrows her brows as she nearly finishes her work for today. Working a bit after hours isn't anything new for this lady as she barely can get any meaningful work done when Tengen, Mr. Rengoku, and Inosuke of all people are her co-workers in this hectic office! Typing about on her laptop, she jots down ideas that flesh out Tengen's already existing ideas for the upcoming Halloween special! She's adding context to his idea trying to rope them all together for when the others review it but her time is dwindling as her alarm creeps up on her, scaring her stiff!

With a feint smile, she rubs her jaw and lifts up her mask once more as she fills up her satchel, ready to take her belongings home. It's 11PM sharp and she knows that she's usually the last one to be here at this time so Mr. Rengoku expects her to clean up anything on the way out.

After making her desk look decent for tomorrow morning, Rasshu lets out the smallest of sighs as she locks up the marketing office. Light footsteps echo with every step the woman takes walking down the long dark, daunting hallways alone as she starts to hum a random tune, trying to keep her paranoid mind unassuming for the moment. The quiet has always unnerved her after all. But, as she walked out into the open floors of the lobby she began to see big muddy prints going outside! Letting out an audible groan, Rasshu already seemed to know whose footprints these were; the damned debt collector's, Gyutaro Shabana!

He's a rather messy man that reaks of self-hate and misogyny... He was the only one who actively antagonized her weekly, throwing little jabs at her, making fun of her mask habits, and even spreading rumors that she steals when she's working late! At first, Rasshu thought it was a race thing but he treats everyone like shit when they start, it's just... Rasshu kept taking his crap to heart.

Looking at the footprints in front of her, she instantly believes that he just made a mess so people would think it was her fault since she is the only one who consistently leaves after the janitor does. It's a stretch but she can't help it, Gyutaro has always been out to get her. So with a mean snarl, she shakes her head and unlocks the janitor's closest mumbling to herself as she brands a clean-looking mop!

Rasshu: That Scrawny ass Debt Collector... trying to set me up like always... if he wants me fired so much, why doesn't he just fuck'n fight! I bet I could gut him so damn fast that Sonic wouldn't even be able to see what was coming to that bitch...

After a few minutes, Rasshu finally cleaned up the footprints that plagued the shiny white floors of Kimetsu. With a smile, she put up the mop and swung her satchel around her shoulder, feeling a bit proud about her tiniest deed until she heard something, or more accurately, someone.

With all of the lights already cut off, Rasshu froze as she saw a huge silhouette blocking her in the closet but before she could even begin to fight this intruder, a large pair of hands insnared her as the closet door slammed with both of them in it! Writhing with rage, the woman groaned and bit the intruder's hands until a mocking voice rang out! The Intruder was Gyutaro and he wasn't too happy after hearing Rasshu mock him.

Gyutaro: "Scrawny ass Debt Collector" "Bet I could gut him" Heh... big talk for someone squirming around like the pathetic piece of crap she is... So damn annoying too... Kek...

Immediately , the man shoved Rasshu into the wall behind her stunning her! She couldn't believe what this man was doing! He would always berate her verbally but nothing like this, she was honestly shocked by what he was doing, did he actually hate her this much? but as she was stuck in thought, she was quickly disoriented as Gyutaro turned on the bright closet lights. Instantly, Rasshu's eyes took in the sight as she realized what was happening... That subtle smell of alcohol on his rancid breath, that blush flushing his dirty skin, and the way he couldn't contain that malicious smile while he looked at her. The damned man was drunk off his ass, but why here! Instantly, with a surprising amount of concern, Rasshu angrily berated the man before her!

Rasshu: Mr- MR SHABANA?! Are you OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND MAN!? Drunk? At WORK?! I know it's after hours but you can still get in trouble! Damnit and to think your smaller sister is the sane one for once... Address now, I'll call an Uber or a taxi before you make more of a mess than you've already...

The angry woman started to trail off and Gyutaro started to scowl as he walked up closer to her... He seemed worse for wear but Rasshu was already getting a bit nervous as he got almost nose-to-nose with her. Most of the time she was able to hold her own against this bully of a man, but tonight his demeanor was something else... and finally, confirmation of what was of his mind dribbled from his haunting words.

Gyutaro: Hey... Now... where's that big brave act you be putting on for me so much? Eh... Are we afraid of what the Scrawny Debt Collector can dish out? Because from what I know... I'm PRETTY DAMN GIRTHY where it counts...

Lifting up his baggy shirt, he slightly reveals the base of himself. Seeking a reaction, he leans in more until his breath stings Rasshu's eyes as she begins to internally freak out, looking for anything to put down this man as fast as possible but it is too late.

Lunging at her, the ragged man digs his dirty nails into Rasshu's waist as he pulls her body into his caved-in form! Fighting and throwing strong-armed punches, Rasshu roars out to Gyutaro, threatening him more and more until it turns into death wishes, and then to pleads! The man tanks kicks, punches, bites, and nearly anything waiting out her stamina until she was weak enough to finally stop. Rasshu pants under her mask as she is on the verge of tears as she looks at the ugly man with complete and utter rage, asking why... why her? Rasshu was so damn confused that it was physically hurting her just to wrap her head around this until Gyutaro gently, pulled down her mask.

Finally laying his eyes on the complete picture, Rasshu's face was fully in view; never truly seen by anyone else before. Her jaw was riddled with small scars. Her gritted teeth showed that the right side of her teeth were messed up! Unfortunately, that seemed to be her last straw as her frustration slowly turned to humiliation... with tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping down her neck, she cried believing that Gyutaro would use this against her. Why wouldn't he?

Still restraining her, Gyutaro pinched her chin and stole a kiss, holding her there for as long as he wanted. And just seeing the disgust and confusion etched on her face when he was done was enough for his crooked smile to contort into a sinister one.

With his biceps flaring up, he grabbed one of rasshu's legs and hoisted it up to her limit, forcing her to stretch her legs wide open as her other foot struggled to keep herself from falling! He held her there as he listened to her frantic pleas for mercy, but he wasn't here to play nice. Gliding his free hand down his pants, he took out a sharp pocket knife as he flicked it open, and dangled it in front of Rasshu's face. Knowing the context, Rasshu inadvertently clammed up as the man proceeded to glide the blade down her leg slowly, stopping at the small mound just below her stomach. Rasshu glared at the man one last time, hoping that it would be enough to hinder his actions but her eyes widened when the sound of splitting fabric filled her ears! Gyutaro vigorously cut himself an easy-to-access hole in her pants revealing a black pair of panties. They were a simple kind, with no one to impress, which was normal for someone as single as Rasshu.

Gyutaro didn't even care to look at her face as he put his palm directly on her panties, imagining how her secretive area looked. As he groped her, he listened to her frantic heartbeat just as well as he rubbed the nook of her panties, seldomly dipping into her pussy's wet crevice from time to time. After prodding her with just his two fingers, he pressed his weight against her as he took a fist full of her panties and ripped them clean from the hole in her pants! Feeling the cold bitter air on her bare pussy, Rasshu squealed but no one was in a large building, and wouldn't be for hours on end... Her breath ecelerated and she almost felt like she was going to pass out but Gyutaro made sure that he paused for long periods of time, listening carefully until her heartbeat went back down.

After Rasshu was calming down again, Gyutaro made sure he was face to face with her as he began to rub his rough fingers between her glossy folds... He knew how to work a woman's body, its what he was used to with how ugly he was anyway, so it was no different with this woman. Rubbing Rasshu's clit, she shut her eyes from the piercing blue gaze of the devil himself. Gyutaro seemed to feast on her reactions after all and Rasshu was simply the most reactive one who worked at Kimetsu, it was always easy picking her out from a sturdy crowd. Rubbing in circles, Rasshu seemed to relax slightly but she wasn't giving in to Gyutaro in the slightest so he devilishly plugged his two longest fingers deep into her, milking a squeak from the woman that was barely standing at this point.

At this point, Gyutaro knew that Rasshu's body wouldn’t be able to give much resistance now and that was all he really needed now as he picked her up. Hoisting her other leg up above his shoulders followed suit by the other! Rasshu wasn't ready at all as she tried to push herself off of Gyutaro but with a bit of taunting, Gyutaro would feign like he was about to drop her, causing her to latch on to him for safety. It was a nice sight to see the annoying worker he bullied often, holding on to him like this in such a manner, even if it was rather unfair... Rasshu started to talk a little louder, trying to sway Gyutaro's morals once more but then with the flash of a knife, she pipped down once again. Reluctantly, Rasshu used her arms to hold herself to the wall that she was being pushed against as the man positioned himself. dropping his baggy pants, his member sprang and bounced a bit, allowing his hard tip to bump against Rasshu's rear, making her flinch...

grabbing his shaft, Gyutaro played around as he rubbed his tip between Rasshu's folds as he watched tears run down her face occasionally... toying with her feelings, toying with her virginity. Without a moment's notice, Gyutaro forcefully cups his palm over Rasshu's mouth as he fully thrusts himself into her causing her to squirm and squeal in distress! Getting the hard part over with, Gyutaro slams himself fully into her as a mix of her blood and slick begins to coat his dick with each lustful pound. Not letting her rest, he gets his fill of pleasure until he pulls out, causing a pop sound to echo. lifting his saliva-covered palm from Rasshu's mouth, he reluctantly says sorry to her. Sniffling from what seemed to be the worst pain she'd ever been awake for, Rasshu avoids Gyutaro's glare as he puts himself in again! Fortunately, this time Rasshu's taking him rather well as he pounds just a bit more passionately than before. Seemingly allowing her to finally adjust to him.

Taking full advantage of this moment, Gyutaro digs his nails into her plush skin and starts to adjust himself slightly. And then pulling her arms into his grasp he performs a reverse full nelson of sorts?! Gritting his crooked fangs, he growls something under his breath as he begins to thrust vigorously but something's different! Rasshu begins to arch her back slightly with each thrust as something in her clicks! Shutting her eyes again, she begins to feel warm as her body feels this indescribable tickly feeling. After resisting for so long, Gyutaro's brows perk up as he hears small moans coming from his prey! Finally, he found her spot! Filled with determination, Gyutaro bites down on the nape of Rasshu's neck to keep her still as he speeds up his thrusts, milking her for the most long-awaited reaction he could get! Working up a sweat, Rasshu's legs jolt up as Gyutaro jams his hand down between their bodies! Followed by a choke-up, Rasshu nearly gags on her moan as Gyutaro yanks on her clit. Tightening up her core until she couldn't anymore and then with a failed attempt to stop herself, Rasshu shamefully squirted on herself, covering Gyutaro's lower half as she began to cry again... Her face was red hot and gyutaro pumped himself more and more until he snatched himself out, spilling his cum all over the wall and floor near him.

Crouching down, he let Rasshu's body slide down the wall to the floor onto his lap as he waited for Rasshu to finally look at him directly. It took a while, maybe 20 minutes for Rasshu to acknowledge him despite being in fear of what he would do next. Her red disappointed eyes finally, reached his blue droopy cold eyes for half a second before she looked away. Gyutaro let out a frustrated sigh as he reached his hand out and over Rasshu's head, resting his palm in her fluffy soft hair... He seemed a bit, conflicted as he watched the coworker that annoyed him, be so worried. Rasshu wanted to run away but she was just frozen laying within the man's lap as he thought to himself and then he finally spoke.

Gyutaro: Hey... Rasshu... I gotta ask you. Do you hate me? Keh, what a dumb ass question was that... I just swooped you up, took your V card, and expect you to NOT hate me?... Stupid... keh. I just wanted to know since you always seem to avoid me all the god damn time. Hell, you even hang out with that weird Uzui guy so much. I just thought you liked mean men and stuff. Rasshu: I... I... Mean men? I-I wouldn't hate you if you didn't hate me you damn man whore! Fuck! Like, who does this drunk? You can't tell me that you had some semblance of respect after humiliating me like this and now you're just gonna tell everyone that I'm just a slut or something... Finding anything to down me. Gyutaro: GNAH! Dont get loud with me! You can't expect me NOT to take you when you keep egging me on! Acting all offended when I tease you for any little thing! Acting all tough around your friends like you aren't teasing me with your cute ass! Hell, You can keep my name out of your mouth You Know?

Rasshu: THATS BECAUSE YOU ARENT TEASING, your insults hurt... and-and... how the hell am I teasing you?

Gyutaro: Dont act stupid you prude, I remember the first time I heard you. You were with that Uzui guy and y'all were pointing and laughing at me. Hell, each time yall pass me in the damn hallway, you do it! SO DONT ACT ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY Rasshu: YOU DUMB WHORE- ON MY FIRST WEEK UZUI WAS PICKING ON ME YOU DUMBAS BITCH- WE WAS TALKING ABOUT WHO WE THOUGHT WE WOULD WANT TO TAKE HOME AND WHEN I POINTED YOU OUT, UZUI FUCKIN- Gyutaro: wait- you chose me?...

For anyone who read this all or who totally skipped everything (cuz ik i would) Here

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