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lovinkiri · 1 month ago

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More Than A Wild Cat, Chapter Five

Author's thoughts: I hope this is received well! The Hex and Hatasu scene is actually my favorite!

Warnings: Swearing, implied murder, implied trauma/PTSD, mention of torture, etc.

OC Credit: @jix-the-dragon

Art Credit: @.jabberwockyface

Sasha sat at the edge of the coffee table in the common room, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She wasn’t looking at anyone, her amber eyes distant and lost in a sea of memories. It was clear to her classmates that whatever she had been through had left scars deeper than any villain’s attack could ever, and they hated it, especially Eijirou.

He walked over and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder,his eyes gentle but serious. “You don’t have to tell us if you’re not ready,” He said softly, kissing her head.

“No,” Sasha said, her voice low but steady. “I need to. You all need to understand what they really are. The Commission... they don’t care about heroes. Not the way we’re taught here, not the way you think.”

She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. The weight of what she was about to say hung in the air. She didn’t what she spoke of to affect her friend’s dreams, or to make them feel hopeless. Still, she didn’t exactly want to sugarcoat her own experience.

“When I was younger, they found me. The Commission recruits promising kids who show potential early on. They asked if I wanted to be a agent. They barely gave me a choice.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “They asked me if I wanted to find my parents, and I did. They said that it as the only way. I was enrolled in their training program before I even knew what was happening.”

“That sounds... intense,” Denki muttered, his usual carefree tone replaced with unease.

Sasha nodded, her gaze hardening. “It was. The training wasn’t like UA’s. It wasn’t about making you stronger or better. It was about breaking you down. They push you past your limits—mentally, physically. Day after day, they forced me to fight, to hone my Quirk until I could barely stand. And if you failed? They’d make sure you regretted it.”

“They... punished you?” Ochako asked quietly, her voice filled with shock. She wasn’t the only one who was already concerned as to where the story was going.

Sasha’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, and her gaze seemed to glaze over for a moment. “Punished isn’t the word. It was torture. They’d isolate you, deprive you of sleep, food. They’d put you in situations where you had no choice but to fight for your life—against simulations, sometimes against other trainees. And they’d watch. Always watching, recording everything. It was all just... experiments to them. To see how far we could go before we broke.”

Izuku’s eyes widened in horror. “That’s inhumane! How could they—”

“They wanted perfect agents,” Sasha interrupted, her tone sharp. “Not heroes. They wanted weapons they could control. They didn’t care about what we wanted. They didn’t care about what it did to us. We weren’t meant to be adored and cheered for. We were meant to get the jobs done that the public couldn’t handle. That the heroes couldn’t handle.”

Todoroki’s voice was cold when he spoke. “They treated you like tools. Like a means to an end.” That was something he knew well, and it seemed Sasha had experienced it to the extreme.

Sasha nodded slowly. “Exactly. I wasn’t Sasha to them. I was ‘Agent Wild Cat.’ Just another agent in their system. They tried to erase our identities, made us believe that being a hero was about following orders, no matter how wrong they felt. We were trained to act without thinking about morals or our own feelings, to obey, no matter the cost.”

“What about Naomasa?” Eijirou asked, wondering where Sasha’s guardian had been this entire time. Sasha could understand, that seemed like a pretty obvious question.

“Don’t be too hard on, Nao. I made his life hell until he agreed. Just like everyone else, of course he had faith in them, it hadn’t even occurred to him that they’d do all the heinous things they did,” She sighed, laying her head against Eijirou’s shoulder. “And he still doesn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Bakugou grunted, finally speaking him with a look of disbelief. “We’re findin’ out before him?”

“I’d just tell him I was spending the night at the agency, which wasn’t a lie. I was spending the nights to get ‘punished’, but I couldn’t tell him.” She looked up to meet his gaze. “How could I? He’d have done everything in his power to get me out. And, fine, that sounds right now. But back then? I was a child, and I was fairly new to living in Japan, and I was missing my parents. It felt like the only choice I had.”

Momo, who sat across from her on the couch, placed a hand on her knee. “Sasha, why didn’t you tell him after you left?” She asked softly, not wanting to make Sasha feel like she was being blamed for her own suffering.

Feeling her intentions, Sasha smiled and placed a hand over hers. “How are you supposed to tell someone something like that, knowing that they’d only blame themselves. I don’t know how to tell him.”

Eijirou gently rubbed her shoulder, holding her close to him. It broke his heart to see all of the apin she had been carrying. It was no wonder she had a bad habit of keeping secrets. It was the only way she’d been able to protect the people she loved from getting hurt all this time.

They gave her a moment before they asked her anything else, and she appreciated it. She hadn’t realized this would be so hard to talk about after so many years. For a while, she’d suffered from nightmares after leaving the commission, but those had died down. She figured that was a sign that those memories had no hold on her anymore.

God, she hated being wrong about these things.

Then came the question that was on everyone’s mind for a long time now. A question no one had really had the nerve to ask. “Did you ever—” Denki began, but Sasha cut him off. She could tell from his expression, he wanted to know if she’d ever killed anyone.

“They trained us to be perfect agents,” Sasha said, trying to keep her voice calm. She really hated talking about this, but it was about time she did. “But that wasn’t just about learning how to fight or survive. They taught us how to follow orders without question, to carry out missions no matter what... even if it meant hurting people. Civilians, sometimes. Other agents. Anyone in the way.”

Her words hit the room like a punch to the gut. They had already known the answer, but hearing it from her was something else altogether. No one could imagine what it must have been like, being manipulated into being a soldier who hurts anyone.

“I’ve hurt a lot people,” She said, her voice wavering a bit this time. “People who were scared, confused, just trying to live their lives. And I did it because I was told to. I didn’t question it for too long. It was easier not to.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “They told me it was for the greater good, that it was necessary for peace and order. And for a long time... I believed them.”

Ochako’s eyes filled with sadness as she reached out, her voice soft. “Sasha, that wasn’t your fault. They conditioned you—”

“But I still did it!” Sasha snapped, surprising herself with the force of her words. Her whole body tensed, her emotions finally spilling over as she spoke faster, her voice growing more frantic. “I can’t just say it wasn’t my fault and walk away from what I’ve done. I still see their faces. Every single person I hurt. I remember the way they looked at me, the fear in their eyes.”

Sasha’s eyes burned with unshed tears, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “And every night... I would see them in my dreams. No matter how hard I tried to forget, they were always there. Haunting me.” She looked away from them, hoping that it would aid in hiding these feelings she’d kept locked away.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, but the weight of her words hung in the air like a storm cloud. Sasha could feel their eyes on her, but she didn’t want to meet them. She didn’t want to see the judgment, the disgust that she thought surely must be there.

“I dont have those nightmares anymore, not often anyway, but I don’t need to be asleep to be reminded of what I’ve done.” She paused to wipe her amber eyes, though that didn’t stop her from tearing up all over again I try to tell myself I’m different now, that I’ve escaped, but... those things I did... they’ll never leave me.”

Eijirou’s voice, surprisingly calm but firm, broke the silence. “You were manipulated, Sasha. Used. They twisted you into something you weren’t meant to be.” He said, nuzzling his face into her hair.

Sasha shook her head, her voice dropping to low murmur. “But I let them. I let them turn me into a monster.”

“No,” He said, his eyes fierce. “You’re not a monster. Not now, not ever. You were forced into something terrible, but you chose to leave. You chose to be better. That’s what matters.”

“What if I can never make up for what I’ve done? What if those faces never go away?” Sasha bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

“They might not,” Todoroki said, his tone somber but full of understanding. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to heal. I’ve done things I regret too... things I can’t take back. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying to be better.”

Eijirou continued to speak with a quiet intensity, fiercely believing in every word he spoke. “You’re here now. You’re in UA because you want to learn to be a real hero. That’s what counts. You didn’t let them break you.”

Sasha finally looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The sight broke Eijirou’s heart into a million pieces. It wasn’t often Sasha cried, so this must have been bothering her for years. He should have asked sooner. “But what if it’s too late? What if I’ve already done too much damage?” She asked, leaning into her boyfriend.

Bakugou, who had been silently listening for the most part, scoffed. “Too late? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He stood up straight, his hands shoved into his pockets, but his voice was serious. “We’ve all screwed up at some point. Some more than others,” he added, glancing toward Izuku with a solemn, almost apologetic, look in his eyes. “But you don’t stop fighting just because you’ve got some dirt on your hands. You keep going. You keep moving forward.”

Izuku nodded in agreement. “Kacchan’s right. Being a hero isn’t about being perfect. It’s about making choices that count now. You can’t change the past, but you can decide what kind of hero you’re going to be from here on.” He spoke in that voice that made everyone admire him. That voice full of conviction, the one that made everyone feel like they could move forward.

Sasha looked around the room, seeing not judgment in their faces, but understanding. Compassion. Even from Bakugou, in his own abrasive way. She had braced herself for rejection, for them to see her the way she sometimes saw herself—a villain masquerading as a hero. But that wasn’t what she found in their eyes.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself,” Sasha said softly, “but... I want to try. I want to try to be someone better. Someone who makes the people around them proud, not sad. Someone who saves people and doesn’t hurt them.”

“And you will,” Izuku said firmly, a determined smile on his face. “Because you’re not alone in this anymore. You have us. You have everyone, Sasha.”

Eijirou smiled down at her softly and pulled her into his lap for a bear hug. His big, strong arms felt so loving and reassuring, enveloping her like a security blanket. “We’re all trying to be better, one day at a time, babe. That’s what makes us heroes.”

Tears finally slipped down Sasha’s cheeks, but this time, they weren’t just tears of pain. She quickly moved to wipe them, letting out a emotional laugh. “Thanks, everyone.. You guys mean so much to me.”

Todoroki gave her a small nod, his expression softening. “We’ve all got our demons, Sasha. But you don’t have to face yours alone. Like Izuku said, you have us. So lean on us sometimes.”

…

As Sasha stepped out of UA’s main building, the cold autumn air hit her like a wave, but she didn’t mind. After the heavy conversation with her classmates, she needed space to think. Her thoughts swirled like a storm in her mind, but the crisp air helped clear it, even if only a little. She’d only shared a part of her past, she knew this wouldn’t be the first conversation they had.

Baby steps.

They let her go, but not without hesitance. Eijirou didn’t want to leave her alone, but she’d said she needed space, so he wouldn’t deny her. He just hoped that she had truly started to believe what they said. That she wasn’t out there beating herself up, and that she could heal now.

The campus was quiet now, the late afternoon sun starting to disappear behind thick clouds. As she walked along the path that wound through the training grounds, she took a deep breath. Her classmates were right. She wasn’t "Agent Wild Cat" anymore.

That name had once filled her with purpose, but now it only brought memories of pain, regret, and the broken person she had been forced to become. No, that wasn’t her anymore. It had been years since she walked away from the Commission, and every step she took was a reminder that she had left that part of her behind.

Now, she was "Namir."

“Namir,” she thought to herself, letting the name roll through her mind. It was who she chose to be now. A hero who fought for hope, not for orders. She was no longer an agent for someone else’s twisted vision of peace. She was her own person—a hero trying to make things right.

As if the universe had decided to match her mood, the first raindrops began to fall from the gray sky. Sasha felt a cold drop land on her cheek and looked up as the rain began to pick up, soaking through her clothes almost instantly. She sighed, shaking her head with a humorless laugh. “Just my luck,” she muttered.

The sky opened up, the rain falling harder, and for a moment, she stood there in the downpour, feeling the weight of the water on her shoulders. She had expected to feel more alone out here, but oddly, she didn’t. Maybe it was the conversation, or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time in a long time, she knew she wasn’t carrying her burdens alone.

The sound of splashing footsteps broke through her thoughts. She turned around, blinking through the rain, and saw a group of familiar figures approaching her, huddled under their umbrellas. Bakugou, Denki, Sero, Mina—and at the front, holding the umbrella high with his seemingly unbreakable smile, was Eijirou.

“Sasha!” Eijirou called out, his voice filled with warmth. “Are you okay? We came to find you, you shouldn’t be just sitting out in the rain.”

Mina gave her a playful pout as she stood under the umbrella. “You didn’t think we’d just let you brood out here all by yourself, did you?”

Sasha felt a smile tugging at her lips despite the rain. Eijirou came closer, holding his umbrella over her head to shield her from the rain, the others crowding around as well.

“Come on, dumbass,” Bakugo grumbled, though his voice lacked its usual sharp edge. He stuffed his free hand in his pocket, looking away. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you stay out here.”

Denki shot her a thumbs up, grinning at her brightly. “We can’t have you getting sick, Namir! You’ve got hero training and well… Now you’ve got to train us. Something tells me we’re gonna need our new teacher.”

Sero nodded, balancing on the balls of his feet as he looked up at the umbrella. “Besides, the rain’s not gonna make things better. Trust me, we’ve all tried that at one point. You just end up cold!”

She laughed, a real laugh this time, the kind that felt like having a weight lifted off of her chest. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, but it felt... right. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than before, her heart warming at the sight of her friends gathered around her. And then her eyes drifted up to Eijirou. He gave her that encouraging look that always seemed to make everything just a little bit better.

He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone anymore, Sasha. We’re here with you. So let’s get out of this rain, yeah?” He suggested, tilting his head.

Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and gently brought him down, pressing a loving kiss to his lips. Eijirou seemed to pause, surprised by the sudden action, before returning the kiss. She could hear the others “aweing” and whispering, excluding Bakugou who gave an exasperated groan.

She pulled away after a moment and grinned up at him. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m thinking some hot chocolate or some of Momo’s tea sounds good right now,” She suggested, squeezing his hand back and linking their fingers.

As the group made their way back toward the dorms, the rain continued to come down around them. Sasha walked close to Eijirou, feeling his steady presence at her side, but it was Bakugou’s voice that broke through her thoughts.

“Oi, Cat,” Bakugo called out, glancing over at her, his voice gruff but not as loud. “I get it, y’know. About having regrets.”

Sasha blinked, surprised that Bakugou, Explosion Boy, of all people was about to open up. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Kirishima and the others listened, too, a little curious about where this was going.

Bakugou shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground ahead. “I’ve screwed up, too. More than once. When I was younger... I was a real asshole to Izuku. Like, way worse than I was when we first met. Treated him like trash, like I was better than him.”

Denki and Sero exchanged glances, clearly not expecting this level of honesty from Bakugou, but no one interrupted him.

He huffed, almost embarrassed. “Looking back on it now... it’s pretty damn humiliating. The guy was the only real friend I had, and I treated him like crap. Didn’t realize it at the time, but that... it’s one of the things that haunted me.”

Sasha’s eyes softened. She hadn’t expected Bakugou to admit something like this, and she could feel the weight of his words. Even Bakugou had regrets, and they were clearly still with him, just as hers were.

“But here’s the thing,” Bakugou continued, his voice growing firmer and his gaze getting sharper. “You’ve gotta move on from your screw-ups, or you’ll never get better. If you let that shit hang over you forever, you’ll always be left behind. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not planning on being left behind by anyone.”

Sasha couldn’t help but smile. The way he said it was classic Bakugou—rough around the edges but real, and his message hit home. She chuckled softly, feeling lighter than she had in a while.

“Aww, you big softie,” she teased, playfully bumping his shoulder.

Bakugou barely had time to react before her nudge sent him flying, his feet slipping out from under him as he fell backward into a large puddle with a loud splash. The water and mud splattered everywhere, covering him from head to toe as he sat up, looking absolutely furious.

For a moment, there was dead silence—then everyone burst into laughter. Kirishima doubled over, clutching his stomach, while Mina and Sero pointed at Bakugou, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

“Oh man, Kacchan! You okay down there?” Denki wheezed between fits of giggles.

Sasha stood there, her hands covering her mouth as she tried and failed to stop laughing. “I-I’m so sorry!” she said, barely able to speak through her laughter. She stepped forward, offering her hand to Bakugou. “Here, let me help you up.”

Bakugou glared at her but took her hand, pretending to accept the help. Just as she began to pull him to his feet, his lips curled into a wicked grin. Before she knew what was happening, he yanked her down with him, sending her tumbling face-first into the mud beside him with a gasp.

Now it was Sasha’s turn to be soaked in mud. The others exploded into fresh laughter as she sat up, covered in muck, her hair plastered to her face. She blinked, shocked for a second, before a grin spread across her face.

“You jerk!” she laughed, shoving Bakugou, which only made him smirk.

“Payback’s a bitch, huh?” he said, leaning back with that smug expression.

Sasha couldn’t help it. She lunged at him, tackling him back into the mud, laughing as they wrestled in the puddle. The others cheered them on, Mina and Denki practically rolling on the ground from laughter.

Kirishima shook his head, smiling fondly as he watched the scene unfold. “Well, that’s one way to cheer up. I’ve got my bet on Sasha!” He joked, wiping tears from all the laughter.

Eventually, Sasha and Bakugou sat up, both covered head to toe in mud but laughing nonetheless. Sasha wiped the grime from her face, still smiling as she looked at her friends– Her family. They weren’t just classmates anymore; they were people who cared about her, and in this moment, despite everything she’d been through that day, she felt a sense of peace.

…

Sero grinned. “At least you’ve got a new style going on, man. I’d say the muddy look really suits you. Might wanna add it to your hero suit!” He teased the ash blonde, pomeranian like man.

“Shut up,” Bakugou growled, but there was no real bite in his words. Even he couldn’t help but fight the urge to crack a smile.

When they entered the dorm, the rest of Class 1-A was lounging around in the common room, and immediately, everyone turned their heads. The moment they saw the state Sasha and Bakugou were in, the teasing began in full force.

“Oh wow, you two look like you had a fun time outside,” Koda joked, grinning from ear to ear. “We were worried about you when it started raining.”

Jirou smirked, shaking her head as Denki sat beside her, putting a wet arm around her shoulder “Yeah, the mud wrestling championship came early this year.”

Sasha rolled her eyes but smiled. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. We’re going to shower.”

Eijirou laughed along with everyone but gave her a warm smile as she walked past. “We’ll wait up for you, Sasha.”

She gave him a quick smile in return before heading to the showers, grateful to wash off the mud and the heaviness of the day. As the hot water poured over her, Sasha let herself unwind, her muscles relaxing after everything that had happened. The mud and the tension from earlier seemed to wash away down the drain, leaving her feeling lighter and happier.

A good shower really could do wonders for the soul.

Once she was done, she dried off and pulled on a pair of Eijirou’s old sweatpants and one of his shirts, the soft fabric and his familiar scent comforting her more than she could explain. Her hair, still damp, was tied back loosely, and her leopard tail swayed gently behind her as she walked to her room.

When she opened the door, she found Eijirou waiting for her, sitting on her bed with a bright smile that immediately warmed her heart. His crimson eyes lit up when he saw her, and his whole face beamed as soon as he saw her face. “There she is,” He said softly, standing up and walking over to her. “The national muddle puddle wrestling campion.”

Sasha smiled, feeling her heart swell at the sight of him. She padded over to him, her bare feet quiet against the floor. “Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “I’m all clean now.”

Eijirou grinned, his eyes dropping to the shirt she was wearing. “You look good in my clothes,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping him. “But you always look good.”

She laughed softly and playfully nudged him. “Charmer.”

Without saying anything more, he gently took her hand and guided her onto to the bed with him, sitting her down. He moved behind her and started running his fingers through her tail, carefully brushing out the damp fur. His touch was gentle, calming, and Sasha felt herself completely relax under his care.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” She murmured, leaning back slightly as he continued to brush her tail. His touch was always so tender, so full of love, and she felt safe with him—like all the weight she carried melted away.

Eijirou’s hand moved gently, brushing through her fur as he leaned forward slightly, his breath warm against the back of her neck. “You deserve to relax, Sasha. You’ve been through a lot... I’m proud of you for facing it.”

Sasha’s heart fluttered at his words. She leaned into him, her back resting against his chest as she tilted her head back to look at him. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” She said softly, her voice full of sincerity.

His eyes softened as he looked down at her, his hand still resting on her tail. “You’re stronger than you think, Sasha. I’m just lucky I get to be by your side.”

The warmth in his voice and the loving look in his eyes made her heart swell. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

Sasha gazed up at him, her heart racing as they shared a moment of perfect peace, their connection deeper than words could express. She reached up, gently cupping his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek as she whispered, “I love you, Eijirou.”

His smile grew even brighter, his eyes shimmering with warmth and adoration. “I love you too, Sasha,” he whispered back, his voice full of emotion.

And then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a tender, loving kiss. It was soft at first, full of warmth and care, but it deepened as they held onto each other, the world fading away around them. In that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s love and the comfort they brought one another.

When they finally pulled away, Sasha rested her forehead against his, her heart still racing but filled with happiness. Kirishima smiled, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair from her face, her gorgeous face.

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “we’ll get through it together.”

Sasha smiled back, her heart full. “Yeah. Together.”

And with that, they settled into the peaceful quiet of the evening, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the rain outside slowed to a gentle patter.

- “Yasei no neko” Apartment Complex, 11:38 PM -

In a dimly lit, rundown apartment, the faint glow of a single lamp flickered, casting long shadows over the peeling wallpaper. The apartment was bare, save for a few chairs, a rickety table, and a dartboard nailed haphazardly to the wall—Sasha’s face glaring back from over the bullseye. Agent Hatasu sat in one of the chairs, his posture calm and collected. Across from him, his partner Hex paced back and forth, his movements jerky, restless, the sharp gleam of a pocket knife twirling between his fingers.

“I’m telling you, we should just grab her,” Hex growled, frustration etched onto his expression. “Drag her back to the Commission and force her to comply. Torture if we have to. It’s the fastest way to get her in line.”

Hatasu looked up from the old notebook in his lap, his cold, calculating eyes meeting Hex’s fiery gaze. His expression didn’t change—no anger, no annoyance, just that same unsettling calm.

“That method,” Hatasu began, his voice smooth and measured, “is far too messy. You’re thinking like a thug, Hex. Sasha—Namir—isn’t someone we can simply break. Not anymore.”

Hex scoffed, his temper flaring. He hated how composed Hatasu always was, how nothing ever seemed to rattle him. And he hated how he referred to her as that “stupid” name, Namir. “She’s soft now,” Hex spat. “All cuddled up with those idiot hero wannabes. She’s not the agent she used to be, but she could be. We break her spirit, remind her who she really is, and she’ll come crawling back.”

But Hatasu only smiled faintly, closing the notebook and setting it aside with deliberate care. “And if we break her? Then what? A shattered agent is no use to the Commission. No, we need her intact—mentally, physically, emotionally.”

Hex scowled, clenching the knife tighter. He hated this part—the waiting, the subtlety. It wasn’t his style. He wanted action, and he wanted it now. “So what, then? We just wait for her to come back?”

Hatasu stood slowly, walking toward the dartboard with an eerie grace. His fingers traced the edge of the dartboard, right over Sasha’s printed face. “We use what’s already in her heart. The loss of her parents... it still haunts her, as it should. We keep planting the seeds, reminding her of the pain, of the guilt. Eventually, she’ll look to us for answers.”

“And then?” Hex snapped, his impatience barely contained.

Hatasu turned, his eyes gleaming in the low light. “Then, we offer her the one thing she wants most in this world—closure. We make her believe we can give her that. And when she trusts us enough... She’ll come back of her own accord.”

Hex rolled his eyes but couldn’t entirely dismiss the plan. Hatasu’s methods were slow, sure, but they were often effective. Still, the idea of waiting pissed him off. He needed action, violence—he needed to make her pay for leaving, for thinking she could turn her back on the Commission.

With a frustrated snarl, Hex threw his knife, watching as it embedded itself with a thunk right between Sasha’s eyes on the dartboard, and right between Hatasu’s fingers. Still, the close-call didn’t mean anything to either of them. “I still say we should just take her out. But fine. We’ll do it your way.”

He crossed his arms, glaring at Sasha’s image as if it were the real thing. “But I swear, I’ll get her one way or another. Just wait and see, Wild Cat.”

Hatasu simply smiled that cold, calm smile. “Patience, Hex. Our time will come.”

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fluff #eijirou kirishima #writing commissions #eijirou kirishima x oc #undercover wild cat #angst #More Than a Wild Cat

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chidoroki · 1 year ago

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182 Days of TPN - Day 124

Chapter 124: "Tell Us"

Vincent is such a gentleman the way he's being a good host to the duo by bringing them tea and lightening the mood, while Cislo & Barbara are over here adding to the tension and doing their best to come off as intimidating (and succeeding).

The way Barbara just scoots in between them without a word is fantastic and I wish the anime played with everyone's extreme expressions more. There's so many in this chapter and they're all so good.

Revisiting this chapter after season two makes me sad because the anime had the whole conversation feel so bland. Everyone spoke proper and polite; there was barely any sort of humor, which is unfortunate because it's the silly moments that make this scene so memorable and gives a far better look at the Lambda trio's personalities. Even seeing Ray play along is hilarious, albeit he's only doing so in an attempt to not start any kind of drama.

Neither one of them have any respect for personal space and I'm laughing at our duo's expense. The anime was definitely kinder to them without making this scene awkward for Emma & Ray but that's boring. I love how uncivilized the first half of this little chat is with Barbara & Cislo acting like irritating children.

It's honestly adorable how they're such big fans of Norman. I guess I'd fancy someone just as hard if they saved my life too.

Pfftt wait, I never noticed how Vincent was getting pushed back by the speech bubble before! The poor guy!

We'll never know exactly which stories were told that brings Vincent to tears since the anime decides to just glaze over that entirely. The manga does too of course, but I always have that hope that some minor details will get expanded upon when it comes to anime, but that's certainly a stupid thought to have with this season especially.

It's possible that Vincent was at Glory Bell the same time as Yuugo & Lucas, right? I know the bunker dads escaped sometime in 2033 and Vincent being born four years prior, but I dunno. That farm functions more like a village (apparently) so who knows if they might've ran into each other at one point. Regardless, I still wanna know where the Goodwill Ridge IDs are located.

Still unbelievable that the five of them alone were able to escape a prestigious farm such as Lambda and destroy countless others. Yeah Norman and Vincent are real intelligent dudes while the other three are crazy powerful, but damn. I guess anything is possible with a couple explosives and protagonist with plot armor on your side.

Oopsie, there goes all the silly, little feelings we were having.

It was all fun and games but now the intimidation is back full force and even worse with actual rage. Barbara is being so intense that she scared Ray outta his seat (which the anime didn't include btw).

Can't deny that her voice actor did a wonderful job with her anger though. I also like this one shot a lot better than the panel.

Favorite panel/moment:

The anime is far from perfect though because they completely missed their chance to animate that fantastic spit take of Ray's! They remembered his reaction and have him choke on his tea a little bit, but it's no where near as dramatic as this and it's a shame since it's once of my very favorite panels of him. Would've loved to hear him stifle a laugh too.

End of volume 14.

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #182daysoftpn #chidoroki used chatter

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

Note

OMG I LOVE DOM H THATS INLY SOFT FOR HIS SUB BUT WHEN THEIR BRATTY HE GOES FULL DOM MODE

MELTS AND BOILS OUT OF HORNINESS

Y/N was more of cuddly and clingy tonight.

Wanting nothing but to hide herself in Harry’s chest pawing at his well-built hips with a huff through her nose to be more closer to him, all of it because of his sweet praising for her's while he took her pictures in his phone before leaving for this party he wanted her to be his date— maybe a simple companion she doesn’t know yet where they stand.

She looked too angelic in a baby pink satin slip dress for him not to smother her face in careful dotting kisses and grumbled in feign offend when she pushed him away with her small hand and giggled shyly.

“Y'gonna say no to daddy, Angel?” His daunting tut, blew her pupils into surprise and she rolled her eyes and went to swat his bicep, while her lower abdomen sparkled and tingled with excitement and delight. He likes to play all sweet and precious, but underneath that tentative and “’M putty in my Angels palm,” gooey exterior’s a wicked, mischievous little sneak and satan who likes to see her suffer, basking in the sputtery and fiddly reactions of hers.

Especially in public. Oh he loves it, when he’s intentionally grazing his warm lips against her earlobe to whisper how she’s so good for daddy, darting his tongue out to wet his lips and tease her. He liked taking her out on expensive fancy restaurants and be a filthy prat with his words without a shame making her knees knock into tables, gets her all warm and pink with his little plays like kissing her fingertips one by one and slipping them slowly into his mouth, kissing the dribbles of ice-cream from her chin and murmur hotly against her cupid bow, “Hmm. Your peach’s sweeter, moppet.” to feel her squeeze onto his hand that holds her all the time, always having a hand on the small of her back and raking it impossibly low only to get her all squirmy and bashful for him, barking out a laugh when she squeals for he slip it inside her bottoms and snapped them playfully.

He loves to rouse her and make her dip into the haziness, then has an audacity to sharpen a finger at her and grunt at her, “Behave.” When she copied his vicious actions back.

Saying this, he was back to chatting his friends and call Y/N bratty how much you want but the impulsive yearn that was bubbling in her tummy skunked over with jealousy, so she chose the better option. To infuriate and arouse him with her risky little play-tactics, in hope he might drag her away and push her into the nearest washroom and tell her to suck onto daddy’s cock— then swat her hands away harshly and fuck her little watery mouth himself.

So. When she tried to be as sly as possible pretending to drop something on the ground and then bent to have her ass, clad in silk lacies peeking for him teasingly. Harry noticeably gets a bit disgruntled, adjusting himself in trousers and shifting to yank her back to pull her against his chest with a displeased frown.

This time he didn’t tell her to behave making her pout awfully whiny up at him and getting her even more frustrated by smiling down at her as if nothing happened.

Though, the smile’s one of the sinister pressed jaw bbreakin-ly to stop him from gritting his teeth and land a hard stingy slap to her bum right infront of everyone.

Y/N stomps her feet which indeed gains his attention but he chooses to ignore it, wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her closer to his side without even sparing a glance down at her.

Alas. Y/N has waved white flags of defeat considering no-amount of teasing and battiness would break his resolve – one the many things she’s envious of him in their little escapade of naughtiness, is Harry got a hellish of self-control, no wonder that’s one of the reasons he’s her dom.

“Where y'going?” He asks through a smile that was gleamed at his childhood bestfriend and not Y/N, she gulps down the lump of bitterness down her throat–- tone high-pitched in her mumble from the unbelievable achiness between her thighs and all she wants to do’s claim him hers, with deep red bites at his sweet pulse and the front of his throat’s bump.

She has no-idea in the flying fuck, what she’s stammering about, “Ni. Ma–. . . maybe he’ll be a better dom than you.” Ouch. Harry’s veins boils with spleen and indescribable outrage, his face sculptures into a fierce indignation–- out of his realization staring down at her blankly.

For a moment though Y/N feels an immense guilt pour down her head like cold icy water, cause all he’s been to her is sweet and caring telling her how precious she’s for him and how he’s gonna make love to her once they come back home.

She tends to say rubbish in her floatiness but never she has ever doubted him and her eyes gets all swimy, hands rushing up to cradle his face not caring if there’s a gathering around them – though she retreats when he doesn’t let her and to play nice with him has become a none to never option, atleast for tonight when he sets his eyes back on his friend, Y/N’s shoulders slump and shrugs; her head perks up immediately after when he’s bidding them byes and her inners fill with excitement and anticipation to just go home.

. . .

Her panties pools with arousal when he spreads his thighs apart, patting his meaty flesh with a skewered annoyance, “On daddy’s lap, bum out,” With gleeful little nod she’s stumbling her way towards him and he’s not pawing at her hips to lay her down and shove her face into the mattress, keeping his hands to himself quite for a moment before pondering if it’s the right punishment seeing how her panties are already twisted, she shrinks into herself at his cold demeanour wiggling a little to adjust.

Don’t get her wrong. She loves having him gentle and sweet and tentative, pressed so tight she could feel each lull and thump of his heart. Feeling him crush her under his weight with each thrust of his’s overwhelming each of her pores with so much love for him—- sometimes she imagines him to be rough with her, when he grabs and holds and bite her to leave her sore and whiny next day. Pinning her thighs roughly and fucks into her so fast and hard and deep .. god so deep she feels him in her tummy and her pussy swallows down onto him wetly.

He bunches her dress up her spine, strokes her cheek lovingly, plucking at her waistband and touches the soft supple skin then realizes how and why they ended up here.

Her body relaxes into him, nuzzling her nose into his knee and thinks he changed his mind and is out of fumes, will now fuck her nice and warm until a very, disrupting startling swat to her bum makes her gasp and she jerks against his bicep that’s holding her place in now, “Tha’ hurt!” She whined, pouting even though he couldn’t see it because his hold’s firm on her and if it stung didn’t mean she wants to stop him – it’s sparking the tingles in her pit wanting for more.

“’S supposed to,” He grabs onto her hand that tries to reach behind and rub the sting away, “Knows why you’re gettin’ punished right?” He doesn’t wait for her short nod and gives another firm slap to her right cheek and she feels it jiggling under his calloused palm.

“Words!” He growls, she feels small and little in his lap and she’s loving it – knowing he’d immediately stop if she’d accentuate any discomfort, “Was mean. Teased daddy and ...” She mewls when he kneads her blushed skin and clucks his tongue at her, something so dominating and domineering about him in a way she wants to obey him and listen to him quite oddly now after so much wreck havoc—- her noise strangling inside herself out of embarrassment and utter shyness; that she hurt him.

“...and daddy doesn’t likes to be teased.” He says derisively, blunt nails scratching her thighs to raise goosebumps on her skin.

“Ought to teach ya a lesson, didn’t I? You’d be still a filthy brat if it wouldn’t hurt.” He slithers his long fingers under her chin and grabs it, makes her look up at him– giving a light slap to her parted lips when she refuses to look him in eyes.

She's puckering her spit coated lips to suck his digits in her mouth and shallow her cheeks around them, grousing when he removes them out of her reach and she melts into his palm when he gives her two more spanks one after another between her asscheeks quick and hard and rolls his thumb painfully closer to where her little hole is clenching.

Might, in other cases, he'd have cooed at her and caressed her bottom, murmuring, “Such a soft little thing,” and “Moppet y'did so good for daddy,”

“Turn over.” He elevates her with his knee, rocking her on his bulge teasingly and loops his arm around her waist to finally help her up.

The sea foam glazed eyes peering down at her with such intensity makes Y/N chase for his lips eagerly and she cries out when he backs away, “Daddy no ...” Her complain is dropping to a low whimper as Harry strokes his thumb over her bottom pouty lip, creaming her panties and pricking the balloon of exhilaration in her tummy -- she’s a bit upset he hasn’t called her pet names at all and he still thinks she’s bad and hasn’t learned her lesson.

She did! She’s good!

“Maybe if you weren’t so mean,” He cups her bum, breath hitching for a moment when she hisses, lifts her up and glides her panties down, “I would’ve eat your cute pussy out earlier.” He utters, nose burrowing in her neck when she tries to get rid of the panties to be good for him, “Perhaps only really good girls gets their peach eaten . . ‘cos they really deserve it, dunno?”

Her head bows against his chest, feeling unexpectedly too small and disheartened as she murmurs kittenishly clutching his sides and blinking up at him in desperation with glossy lashes, “’M good daddy. Aren’t I?” He let a small smile tick his dimples which went unnoticed by her, of how much haziness and subbiness she has gone under.

He sponges his lips to her collarbones, a whimper scrapes from her throat from where her hands are pressed to the seam of his slacks, while he leans back undoing his buttons.

His cock twitches and akin to it his face warm pink and happy at the noises she creates once he’s out and he grasps her wrists and tugs her forward, “I’m your good girl.” She takes a huge weepy sigh leaning herself to get his cock inside her without seeming bad— because she wants to be good and she’s needy and achy at the same time.

“Your sore and stingy bum would say otherwise, Bunny.” He grins, and a groan rattles in his chest when he swipes his fingers up her folds to inspect her and she’s dripping thickly.

“Fuck. Sucha tight pretty hole f'me.” He murmurs. Helps himself ease inside wet, tight hole and holds himself from making both of them flop back into sheets when she fits around him velvety and snug, his balls pressed to her bum.

She goes to loop her elbows around his neck to smush herself into him and to muffle any inhumane noises she’ll create-- too afraid she’d sob out for being in such a vulnerable state, rather, he hooks his fingers around her wrists securely and holds them behind her spine.

“Bounce on my cock, Bunny.” He orders and she mewls, realizing he isn’t done with her and knows she tires herself too early whilst ridding him and ends up grouching and huffing.

She complies. Feeling herself stuffier and stuffier, she soaks his cock utterly slick with each of his throb inside her and she always loves how he gets more stiff once inside her like it’s the best place he wants to be in and she gazes with hooded eyes to where she has created the slide for him easier, as her pussy squelches around him with his each buck and rough thrust.

“Aah! Ah!” She cries, nibbling onto the fading love-mark on his neck when he slips his hand between their bodies to roll her clit, “Yes, yes. Right there daddy!” He tips her chin to wrap his mouth around her swollen bitten lip and suckles on it murmuring.

“Here yeah? Is daddy’s cock nice and big, hitting your spot good, fuckin’ my baby’s spots good.”

She pouts up at him, chest heaving from all her work and he brushes her hair behind, “Apologise fo’ being naughty and you might get to cum,” She wastes no time, body stretching in arched bow with his slam of hips into her.

“I’m sorry, for being naughty and misbehaving!” She blubbers slumping onto his chest.

He pats her bum, groping it to help her fuck her cunt down his heavy prick and he whispers gutturally in her ear, “Keep going bunny. I could feel ye' pussy squeezin' me s'bloody tight.” He fucks her sloppily circling her sensitive nub twice, thrice until she’s gushing all over him in a heavenly manner thrashing in his arms and not able to screw down any moans and noises.

His own orgasm follows her. Pouring her hole with a heavy cum-load and his grip from around her wrists loosens up, falling on his sides and crinkling the sheets while he stuffs his nose into her shoulder hill thighs jerking under her.

They stay, like that for some seconds, covered in sheen and possibly eachother’s sweat— his recovery was too livid he didn’t heard soft sniffles against his cheek and his chest immediately suffocates up when he draws Y/N away to be met by her glassy drunk pink eyes, lower lip wobbling awfully sad.

“Daddy I’m sorry, I’m bad, I’m so sorry daddy —...” Her jumbled apologies gets lost into her violent sob that knocks her chest and she gasps, bursting wide pupils locked to Harry’s panicked ones and he quickly cradles her face shaking his head furiously, “No baby. You’re my good girl, me best girl.” His tone honest and loving and adoring.

“No! I hurt you ....” She trembles, hiding her face into her elbow and Harry pulls it away, he moulds both of his palms against her teary warm cheeks and lulls her face with all of the endearment he holds for her in his heart.

“I didn’t mean it daddy, promise.” She sulks, fear swimming in her eyes shattering Harry’s heart into infinite pieces and he scolds himself for it, terrified he went too harsh with her, “I know bunny. I know."

“Now come back to me, Angel. Harry misses you. Wanna have me Angel bac—...” Her babbling takes over his coaxing and she hiccups, head a mess of vivid thoughts and doubts, “I got jealous, don’t like it when you look at your friends the same way y'do to me,” He wasn’t. He could never see someone in the same light and same affection and adoration he sees his lovie, since, she was gone under the foam of dizziness too much and neglected of his attention it seemed like that to her and Harry’s beating himself for making her feel like it.

“I...I know, shouldn’t. ‘M sorry, but I love you so much daddy . . .” More tears springs and falls from her eyes. Her crying confession leaves Harry appalled and shocked, butterflies swarming in his tummy and his hands stays limp on her side before he ponders that’d make her over-think he doesn’t wants to touch her so he instantly rubs his hands up and down her arms, mouth guppies many time to stutter out something.

They hadn’t exchanged ‘I love yous' yet. He knew they’d. He wanted it be when they’d be all cuddled and he’s pecking her all where and making love to her, not when she barely knows about her presence and is too floaty to have her feet on ground.

“I love you too. I love you too, so much baby, fuck.” He presses his forehead to hers, nosing her softly and gently and then smashes his lips against hers in a deep humming kiss instead of answering when she blinks up at him startled asking, “You do,” So innocently that Harry had to kiss his love and feel the taste of sex on her mouth and suckle on her tongue to drive her mind away from deprecating herself.

“Wanna have my Angel, back. Please? Pretty please?”

“No more mad?”

“Could never be, you my baby.”

“Can I keep you inside me for sometime? I’ll be good.” She murmurs sleepily, Harry wraps his arms around her and snuggles her into his chest, “My cock’s all yours pretty girl.” He soothes her back. Waiting patiently for her breathing pattern to go back to normal.

“Thank you.” Her voice sobering up, cracking the cocoon of fog where his Y/N rests and the moment she’d be out, he’s gonna kiss her love for him out of her lips.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry angst #dom harry #cute harry #daddy harry is that yoy #daddy!h #harry styles fanfic #naughty harry #fluff #hsh #harry styles one shot #harry stylez fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles dirty one shotsssss

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totiredtowrite · 3 years ago

Text

Bully

Warnings - cursing, himbo reader (and that means muscles so if you don't got those jus pretend), sorta mean sakusa, extremely self indulgent so reader is shorter, kind of risque sometimes but it's sfw (like everything on my page)

Note: I did it bc mean sakusa and I am down bad for bullies

Cough bakugou cough

Male Reader - Fem Readers DNI like at all, I'll block you. It's not that hard to understand.

It doesn't take much to get on Sakusa's bad side.

Be annoying, be gross, be handsy, and he's already got you in his bad books.

You though. You, apparently, decided to take it the long way. Of course he noticed. It would be hard not to, if you've got a wide eyed, muscular, puppy of a boy following you around. In class, you had your eyes on him. At practice matches and games? There too, in the front row. You always peered at him, watching what he did, wide eyed and innocent.

He's no psychological genius, but he can just tell. He can tell that you want him to look back, that you want him to notice your very obvious pining. He doesn't know why he found it so agitating. Maybe he just didn't like how blatantly you looked at him, if that made sense at all. You, being so airheaded, only seemed to chase after your goals like a dog. Biceps the size of his head, yet not a coherent thought in yours. Maybe you were more complex than that. Still, Sakusa had no mind to find out.

It's like he could see it, the non existent tail wagging behind you.

So, he started small. Why not give you the attention, right? He tried to be nice at first. He really did, but it was just so easy. You'd get ecstatic whenever he even asked you a question about school. (Which is the nicest thing he'd done). He came to find out that any insults he threw your way went right over your head. Why not take advantage of that fact?

"You know Omi, you can't pick on him forever." Komori sighed. You've been admiring him from the second year, Komori knew that. Apparently though, only in their third year did Sakusa notice.

Sakusa scoffed. "I don't pick on him."

"Yeah, you kind of do." Motoya shrugged, throwing the can that was in his hand in the trash. "Why're you so mean to him anyways? S'not like he's doing anything to you."

Sakusa momentarily paused. He wouldn't admit how he doesn't know just why he hates you. He was certain, every time he saw you, that he wanted to be so mean. Push you around, make you look at him with nervousness and shock through teary eyes. So certain, but then he saw you smile or bounce on your heels excitedly, and he'd feel like taking you somewhere far away where you didn't need to be tainted by the world.

Yeah, none of that was very characteristic of him.

So, of course, he just settled with a simple "I dunno."

Knowing not to push it any further, Komori didn't say anything else.

Their walk was short and brisk. They were only headed to the library, needing to pick something up, so the trip shouldn't be too long. Sakusa didn't need anything really, he just wanted to go along. Another uncharacteristic thing for him, but it's not like he had anything better to do.

School let an hour ago and practice was cancelled. He wasn't just going to sit around. (Motoya forbade him from practicing on his own. Some "take a break sometime" or "don't overwork" bullshit). Doesn't mean he won't go out though.

Approaching the glass doors of the library, Motoya tilted his head slightly. "I only need a couple psych books." He explained, absentmindedly opening the door and walking in. Sakusa nodded, following him in. He didn't go to the public library much, settling on what the school had if he needed anything. Still, he found the place rather comforting.

"Go find a table. I'll meet you in ten minutes maybe? Fifteen?" Komori's voice dropped in volume a bit.

"Sure." Sakusa said.

His cousin have him a grateful look, turning and walking off, presumably to one of the upper floors where the school related books were.

Sakusa sighed through his mask, turning on his heel to go find a table. They were in the west part of the library, surrounded by some bookshelves. Finding a somewhat secluded one, he dropped his bag down on the table and slid into a chair. With another sigh, he turned his attention elsewhere.

From where he was he could see two more tables that were farther away from his, as well as more bookshelves.

He let his gaze wander and glaze over in thought. Why was he so mean to you? After all, the only things you've ever done was watch him with stars in your eyes. He knew a multitude of people who would gladly have an admirer like that. Well, maybe not Ushijima, (who was out in college by now), but at least he wouldn't pick on them.

And speak of the devil.

His sight caught on you at one of the two tables in his vision. Along with...one other guy. He furrowed his brows. Has he seen you with him before? Maybe. What were you doing together? We're you...no, there's no way you were even into guys. Well, not that he would know. You were smiling at him. More turmoil brewed in the pit of his stomach.

Your friend, (he hoped it was your friend), patted your head, saying something he couldn't hear. It's like Sakusa could see the folded puppy ears on your head. His air was getting progressively darker and more threatening. Why was he even getting jealous? Some childish notion, maybe. He didn't like that you were giving such adoring attention to someone else.

Your friend, who had taken his bag, was well out of sight by now. Kiyoomi could only assume that he left. You turned away from the door, scribbling a few things down in a notebook. Sakusa's seen that notebook. You used it in class.

He tapped his foot, a hand coming up to his chin. He looked annoyed, if anything. You didn't even seem to notice him there, which further irked him.

Sakusa turned on his phone to check the time. It's only been five minutes. He wasn't sure how much longer he could sit here for. How is it that you only caught his attention when you weren't vying for it? At this point, Kiyoomi was so used to you hovering around him, practically begging for his attention, that when you weren't it was...different. Different and not even remotely okay.

That combined with how you were relishing in the company of some 'friend' earlier, and he was livid. He felt the need to prove that you only wanted his attention, that you only needed his attention. He knew he wasn't acting , or thinking, like himself. He acknowledged it, and he ignored it. Hell, you didn't even know he was there! There was no reason for him to react so intensely.

He checked the time again. Three more minutes have passed.

He shoved the chair out, (rather harshly), to stand up. Upon hearing the noise, you turned your head up to see him approaching you.

"Sakusa-san!" You squeaked.

"(L/n)." He said back. His voice was low, threatening. You nervously watched him slam his hands down in the table in front of you, black eyes focused on your face.

"What do you-uh, want?" You smiled at him, practically buzzing in excitement in your chair. The library chairs were a little tight, your thighs pressed flush together. Sakusa let his eyes wander, eventually landing your face once more. You, noticing his gaze, laughed slightly. "The chairs are a bit of a tight fit, huh?"

"(L/n)." He says again, leaning in further. "Who were you just with?" Why was he asking that? He didn't care. He just wanted to know. Morbid curiosity. You shuffled in your chair again. He moved around the table, a slow, stalking act. You sat rigid in your chair.

"You know him right?" You turned, standing up. You rested your hands against the table, rocking back against it in a nervous, jittery motion.

"No," He said. His hand was on the back of your chair, the only thing separating you. "Mind explaining?" He moved the chair harshly. You pressed back into the table further.

"Just-He's a good friend!" You looked up at him, grip on the table tightening when he moved in closer. In truth, he wasn't sure why he was doing any of this. It was like something possessed him, blowing his minor jealousy out of proportion. He wanted to prove that you only gave him those adoring looks, he wanted to have his hands on you.

Your breath hitched in the base of your throat. He placed his hands by your sides, leaning in a bit closer. "Sakusa-san?" You laughed habitually to take the edge off, wide eyes sparkling up at him. This time, his breath caught in his throat. You looked so...innocent. So open.

You didn't know what to think. You knew you weren't all that emotionally intelligent. Even still, you could tell that something was up. On any normal day, he'd just comment on your lack of sense or bump into you a little too hard. Really, usually he just ignored you.

"A good friend," he echoed. You nodded, watching with uncertainty when his right hand lifted to your head. The butterflies in your stomach felt like a warning, a 'DANGER' written in blaring red lights. It was hard not to melt, though, when he gingerly pet your hair. It was where your friend had his hand.

You leaned into his touch. It almost burnt, but in a good way. A way that made you want to walk right into the fire and stay there. He narrowed his eyes. What was he doing? His grip turned harsh, clutching your hair in his hand.

You let out a startled whimper. He pulled your head back slightly, making you look him in his eyes. His free hand pulled his mask down. "Why do you look so shocked," he whispered. It didn't sound meek by any means, it felt loud enough to you. "You wanted my time right? My attention?"

You nodded best you could, excitement buzzing through you again. He let go of your hair, hand moving down to the base of your neck. Surprisingly, he didn't feel disgusted. If anything, touching you, it felt...oddly good. It's like he could keep his hands on you forever.

His gaze drifted down to your lips. Pretty, soft looking, quivering. Sakusa's hands were big. not big and muscular, no, more lithe. Long. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, other fingers still on the back of your neck. "So pretty," he murmured. "Such a pretty boy." He didn't think to sing the praise. It just slipped out. Not like he was going to make a move to take it back though, not when it's escalated this far.

His hand was warm. Surprising, as it seems like he's the kind of guy to have deathly cold hands. You rubbed your muscular thighs together at his words. Noticing the movement, he let out a shaky breath. You felt it on your lips. His breath, unsurprisingly, was minty. Cold.

You whimpered again, leaning in. You could see every little detail of his face. The moles above his thick eyebrows, the small cracks on his lips. So close. One gust of wind and your lips would connect. His eyes lidded, reciprocating your movement and-

"Am I..uh, interrupting something?"

Sakusa practically jumped off of you. "No! No, you're not." He quickly regained his cool. Motoya nodded, brows raised in suspicion.

"Well I've got what I need. Ready to go?" He said.

Sakusa nearly bolted back to where he had set his things, pulling his mask back up onto his nose. "Yeah. Fine." He pulled his bag on his shoulder. Motoya waved to you. You knew that he saw some of it, at most. He turned to walk away, Sakusa following in suit behind him.

Before he left your line of vision, he shot one last glance your way. You weren't sure how to read it, though you could at least see the lingering desire in his iris.

With that, he left your sight, leaving you disheveled and confused against the table.

Do not repost, translate, or copy my work on to other platforms.

#male reader #x male reader #anime x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #hq x male reader #m!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x male reader #sakusa x male reader #kiyoomi x male reader

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jarofstyles · 3 years ago

Note

Can you guys do a cowboy h check in since we got the snl pics!!! Hopefully some smut... please

Yes 😎 - D

“Fuck me.”

Y/N felt hot. There was no other way to describe it. Nothing got her going more than seeing her man out at work.

While Harry did tend to work a lot with the business aspect of the ranch now, he always filled in duties and when it meant working the field and herding the cows, that was no exception. Today though, it was lifting and putting the bales of hay up into the loft with a few of the ranch hands and Matt.

Her eyes were glazed as she sat on the fence, petting one of their older mates who wanted some attention. Harry always looked good, of course. But there was something about him taking off his flannel after hauling heavy stacks of hay up to the loft, sweat dripping down his face and body as he wiped it with the dry bit of his shirt that had him going.

A throb in between her thighs, watching as he leaned his head back and let the cool breeze wash over his body as he finally got a moment to rest. Her mouth watered as she watched his sweat damp hair be finger combed out of his face, a smile on his flushed cheeks as he laughed at some sort of joke being told. The bottle of water in her bag was the perfect excuse to get a better look.

Harry was hot and a bit out of it from the heat he raised, only realizing his pretty girl was coming over when the wind caught a bit of her sweet cherry blossom scent and waved it over. He could recognize it anywhere.

“‘Scuse me. Got to go see what my woman needs.” He murmured, getting a pat on the back as he walked towards the girl. She wore a blue checked sundress today, actually buying into the country look- and god if it didn’t get to him. “There y’are, gorgeous. What are you doin’ out here?” He asked as he approached. She had a bit of a look on her face though, almost like she was drunk? That had him a bit confused.

“Was just walking around. Saying hi to Cinnamon.” She nodded over to the mare. “Was gonna bring yoh a water cause....” her eyes dropped down his body, taking in the droplets of sweat and making her tongue wet. “Y’look like you need it.”

Sometimes he could be oblivious, Harry. He wasn’t unaware of the fact he was attractive. It just wasn’t in the forefront of his mind. It drove her absolutely mad. She felt... he had to know what he was doing. When he took off the cap and dropped his head back, drinking the water up quick and messy, greedy, she almost moaned. The water dripped down his slick chin and her poor cunt... her clit was already swelling and needy, her body soft and ready for the taking. He needed to touch her.

The water was finished and it was sure to say, so was she. Harry watched in a bit of confusion as she approached further, wanting to warm her that he was sweaty and probably not a joy to touch. But his mouth seemed to dry right back up as he watched her glazed over eyes and her hand grab his belt buckle, coming to rest her other hand on his slightly sticky chest.

“Do you know how insane you make me?” She whispered coyly. Their bodies shielded by the truck, she pushed for him to lean against it. “When y’walk around and look the way you do? When you.... sit there and look so fucking sexy doing all that hard work?” She asked, looking nearly frustrated now. Her hand left his belt and tugged his hand between her legs.

“Feel.” She pressed it up against the damp fabric. His mouth dropped open, brows shooting up in surprise after her behavior. They’d been adventurous before and all that. But he was completely taken off guard by her risky move. They’d talked about it but... seeing it happen in practice was something else.

He curled his fingers against the fabric feeling as it was soaked through and hot to the touch. “Did you....” he swallowed, dropping his voice. “Did you get this wet just from watching me work?” His question received a whimpered nod, hips moving slowly against his hand. It was quite a victory for him. He hasn’t done a thing and he had his girl worked up to bits.

His own cock began to thicken at the mere idea of it all. Her leaning against the fence and watching him, thinking about how he got just as sweaty during their more intense sex and how she was probably wanting to bite him.

“Mhm. Yes sir.” She whispered a “just... look so good like that. It’s so sexy when you get all sweaty m’your working, all your muscle and your scruff.... and you fucked me so, so good last night.... I wanted more.” She pressed a peck to the middle of his chest before laying her tongue flat. Licking the slightly salty skin, dragging it up to his neck and ending with a bite on the smooth expanse of it.

Harry groaned, his hand closing around her hair and taking it in a makeshift ponytail. He was about to crash his mouth back on to hers when he heard a call.

“We’re showering and heading to the bar. Meet you there?” It was Matt, and Harry could hear pickup’s starting.

“Yeah. See y’there!” He managed to keep his voice steady as he felt y/n’s mouth lick up behind his ear, his hand working between her legs on its own now and her nails digging slightly into his chest as she pressed herself into him.

As soon as he watched the last of the men roll away? He was tired of waiting. Opening the backseat of his truck, he climbed up and lifted her up with him. Manhandling her and making her straddle his lap.

She giggled, hands going for his belt and trying her best to yank it off before the zipper of his jeans was down.

“Need it. Need you to be inside of me, H. You’re so... fucking hot.” She whimpered, not even taking a moment to take off her panties. As soon as he was fished out of his pants, she began to rub the tip through her folds, tugging the fabric to the side.

“Just can’t help it, can you?” Harry laughed lowly as he felt her hot pussy against his cock. Being dragged through it and feeling it slick him up, it was heavenly. But not as much as when she sank down on him with little warning.

“Oh, fuck me” he moaned, leaning his head back against the glass of the window. The door was still open. It was sundown, meaning everyone was either gone or not in this barn, and he was thankful for it- though he truly wouldn’t give a fuck right now. Not when he was balls deep in his woman.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she rolled her hips. So full, so fucking deep and she was feeling what she had been craving. “Yes, yeah. This is what I needed, sir. Needed this thick fucking cock inside of me again. Once a day isn’t enough.” She was on a quite horny streak lately but he couldn’t ever complain about that. Instead, he smirked, sliding his hands under her dress and take control of her ass.

“Mm. I know it is, my dirty girl. I spend all day riding... and now you’re gonna be my pretty baby and ride me?” He cooed. “S’what I thought. Such a sweet cunt, swallows me up and let’s me stretch it out... go on.” He smacked her ass. “Let’s see it bounce.”

Harry when she rode him was something out of a book. She swore it. The attractive arrogance, the way he made her want to work for it and the pure, smug satisfaction he got from it only made her want to prove even more to him. The easy smirk he had on his face, the pleasure he would show he felt, it spurred her on to give him what he needed to fall apart.

She whined, breath hitching as she lifted up to slide back down. Both of them moaned at the feeling, their indecent act being covered by her dress skirt but the danger and thrill was still there. Open car door in the middle of the barn lot. The slick sound of her pussy sliding up and down on his length, their shuddery breaths and moans.

“That’s my good girl, darlin’. Take what you need from me. Ride me. Feels so good to be swallowed up by you.” He exhaled, watching her face as her mouth dropped open in pleasure. Going in and out of her, the little squelch of her slickness costing him and making the job easier. “Have such a greedy pussy.” He kissed her deep, murmuring against her mouth.

“Better believe it’s all mine. Property of H. Hm? My girl’s perfect pussy... and this ass.” He raised one brow and slipped his thumb between the cheeks, making the strangled moan escape her. “Mhm. No one knows my beautiful girl is so utterly filthy. S’why I love her so much.” He pressed the thumb into the rim, making her thighs shake a bit.

“Yeah.... see, that’s it. This is it. You’re riding me in the lot because you got all wet while I worked. Imagine what the people would say? Knowing that you’re a greedy, dirty girl? Wants the most filthy and indecent things.” He watched her as she nodded, leaning her forehead against his.

She was dirty. Y/N was a slut, she would say, but only for Harry. She loved being touched and fucked and used by him. He managed to check every one of her boxes and she was in love with him... so there was no reason not to be her filthiest self with him. It got her off though. Knowing Harry knew these things and got to be the one to experience them. His finger in her ass paired with the need and fullness she felt had her approaching her breaking point.

“Gonna cum. Gonna cum so hard, Sir. Please? Please, please. Can I?” She begged, fingers grabbing his wet hair as she began to fuck herself harder on his cock. The filthy sounds and the heat was getting to the both of them, her thighs sweaty and he could feel it on him. Their skin sticky and her cunt dripping around him, their appeal for both of them was getting to the end.

“Mhm. The first time.” He earned, eyes dark and full of promise. She had awoken the monster bit of him that was ready to go for a few rounds. “Cum for me.” Car sex hadn’t ever been so good. Not with her whimpers and tugging at his hair, this thumb in her ass and her cunt clenching up, sucking him over and over until- she came.

A squeal. She let out the most adorable, sexy squeal as her whole body shook. His jeans wet with her arousal, he held her down on his length as she rocked back and forth frantically to work herself through it, clit getting it’s friction and his thumb pressing in further to make her drop her head.

“Yes! Please please.... oh my god. M’cumming.” Her voice broke as she soaked him, clutching him and her cunt clenching up and keeping him locked in place. Having her sitting on him like this and shivering at the pleasure pulsing through her body only spurred him on more.

This was just the begging.

His hand worked down her back, kissing all over her head as he let her ride it out. It had taken everything in him not to cum the first time, just watching his girl bounce and her tits right in his face- but he had plans for her.

“There she is. My beautiful, good girl. Feels so good... did such an amazing job.” He soothed, letting her catch her breath. As soon as she calmed slightly, he took her mouth and kissed her deeply, tongue messily brushing hers and letting her feel his passion for her.

“Now.... want you over the hood of the pickup.”

#blurb #smut blurb #smut ask #cowbrry #cowboy!harry #ranchrry #rancher!harry #ranch #home on the range #cowboyh!blurb

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besotted-eros · 4 years ago

Text

Obsessed!Eren Headcanons+

Genre: SFW Headcanons + NSFW scene under cut

Summary: Eren being helplessly in love with you, and the night where he could show you just how bad.

Content: Bit of toxic jealousy, obsessive thoughts, losing virginity, romance,established relationship,oral (female receiving), unprotected sex

AN: Take some fluff, take some angst, take some smut and don't say I don't feed you

Eren loves so deeply, so passionately, so possessively. From the moment his heart decides on you, you are twisted in him. Yours is the first name on his lips in the morning, whether he wakes up beside you, or in a barracks beside Armin. Or in a jail cell alone. He thinks of you obsessively, weaving you into everything he does.

He used to follow you, sorting his schedule by yours. You would find him by your door, by the table you liked to read at, waiting for you expectantly.

It's almost scary sometimes. He makes your breath falter with his intensity, his need for you. You know he means it that he'll go mad if he ever loses you.

He keeps a note you wrote him in the inner pocket of his jacket. It doesn't say much, a quick entreatment to sleep and eat, your name signed with love. When he salutes his fist rests over it. He pledges to more than the scouts. It remains there long after his last salute.

He steals your hair ties, often reaching up to touch his hair when your absence gets too much. When his hair is down, falling below his shoulders like a chestnut curtain, he keeps it around his wrist. When he loses himself in the fog of memories that don't belong to him, he snaps it. It reminds him of the way you'd tap the back of his hand, pulling him back into the world of the living. You are his anchor.

He refuses to keep his hands off you in public, even if it gets him in trouble. No amount of scolding from Levi will make him stop touching your waist as you pass by during training, or pulling you in for a kiss before zipping away. Your friends become use to it, the way Eren will pull you against him when you sit together, or move you into his lap. His hands will rest on your hips, rub your shoulders. But he loves holding your hand above all. It's the way the world knows you are tied. Bound.

There are only a few people allowed to touch you. Mikasa, Armin. Sasha on good days. One time Jean attempted to throw a casual arm around you as you spoke, and was quickly thrown to the ground. Yes, Eren and Jean fought. But this time was different. Eren spat in his face, baring his teeth as he delivering a bone crunching punch. "Don't. Fucking. Touch her." He growled, sounding more animal than man. He never apologised for that. You were careful to keep your space from other men too.

When you're apart he is hollow. Listless. He imagines what you're doing, if you're safe. If you're missing him. He pictures you in trouble without him, and it stirs him into action, to find you faster. To wrap you in his arms, the only place you'll ever truly be safe.

When you reunite, it brings him to tears. They quiver in the corners of his verdant eyes as he tenderly cradles you, large hands stroking through your hair. He buries his face in you so you won't see them. And he says your name. Over and over. Like a chant. Like a prayer. Like a thank you.

There is one time that those tears fall. It is when he takes you, when he gives himself to you.

The evening had been perfect, ignoring the upcoming trip to Marley that weighed heavily on all minds. You didn't want to think about that, instead focusing on the spiced wine that Levi had quietly pushed into your hands while Hange grinned from behind him. And the way Eren traced circles on your knee, his normal stoic face softened into a half smile.

You snuck away from your friends, leaving Connie and Sasha bellowing a war song while Mikasa tried to force Sasha's shirt back on. You had tapped his wrist, and soon you were out of the mess hall, holding onto each other as you stumbled into the moonlight. You kissed, soft and repeated, your lips unbearably supple under his. Eren wondered if the butterflies would ever fade as your head leaned against his shoulder. He never wanted them to. He wanted to love you like he was free falling from a wall, with his heart in his throat and life bursting from every pore.

Soon you found yourself at the door to the room you shared with Mikasa and Sasha. This is where you would usually part, with him kissing your forehead goodnight. He would quell his thoughts of you in the shower later, your name hot on his tongue as the cool water cascaded over his firm body.

But this time you pulled him in.

When he laid you on the bed, your soft hair splayed across the over the pillow like a sunburst, his heart stopped. He had seen this before. He had dreamt it. There was no god to Eren, no angels. But in that moment he knew he had found someone to worship.

But nothing could have prepared him for how it felt. Lips meeting like crashing waves, the soft gasps that left your throat as his hands found parts of you no one else would ever touch. He wanted to run his fingers across every inch, to discover you like a new world. Here, the dip of your hips. There they smooth into your legs, here into your ass where the flesh was soft and pliable under his fingers. His thumb brushed across your lips, and when you took into your mouth, tongue tracing the pad of it, he groaned.

He could have ruined you right then and there. But he held back.

Eren memorized you, the feel of your chest against his and the way you kissed his collarbone until it was a field of blooming bruises. Tomorrow he would wear his shirt unbuttoned, wearing your love like a medal. He returned the favour in tenfold, leaving blossoms of soft purple across your neck. They were rewards for every time you touched him. How good it felt. Eren had never felt this good. Soon your chest was littered with them, his mouth hot and desperate on your breasts. Here he seemed to say. I have touched you here, and here. I loved you there, and there.

You spoke his name into the night like a prayer. The want in it, the need of him. It twisted his stomach into a rosary as he held your face and kissed you like a blessing. He liked how your mouth formed him, called him forth into the world. He wanted more of that.

So he kissed his way down, teeth sneaking out every once in a while to nip at your supple skin. You found where you wanted him most, where you throbbed with want. You were so delicate under his fingers as he dipped them into you, walls fluttering as your toes curled. Your hands found his hair, encouraging him further as his tongue slid against your clit, making you buck.

He could do this to you. He could make you putty under his fingers. This strong, demanding woman who slayed those who threatened her, reduced to whimpering his name.

His. Eren was making you his. He was defiling you in the softest of ways, pressing your legs open, your slick slit parting for him. He dragged his tongue up, down, up again to circle your throbbing clit. When you looked down at him, his eyes were glazed green glass, your wetness making his lips shine. He pulled his fingers out, holding the soaked fingers towards you. Obediently you took them into your mouth, and he gasped against your warmth, sucking at your clit in response and making you throw your head back. Your throat exposed, vulnerable and ridden with angry bruises.

He couldn't handle it. His shaft was hard against the bed as he pressed into it, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And then you pulled up, tugging his long hair. You licked yourself off his lips, tasting how you coated his tongue. Your legs were still spread, exposed for him. Eren angled himself, his dripping head aligned with your wet entrance, while he kissed his love into you.

"Please," you asked, it was all Eren needed.

And then you were connected. His fingers found yours, and you held tightly to his hand as hips rocked against yours. Your eyes were closed, pinched tightly at the sensation of pleasure and pain radiating from the warmth between your legs. He was big. He was so big.

Eren whispered your name.

"Look at me. Look at me while we do this." He murmured, his nose tracing your cheek as he peppered soft kisses on your jaw.

You did, meeting his green gaze. His mouth opened, a kick of pleasure making his toes curl as he adored you. The way you stared up at him, a look he would never see you give another. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, breasts bouncing as his body picked up speed. He was desperate. He was aching. He had pictured you like this for so long, but his dreams held no candle to the way your walls gripped him.

"Never. Never let another man touch you." He panted, his heart soaring as you nodded, nails digging into his shoulder as you held on to him, feeling him rail into you. "Be mine. Be forever mine. Please y/n..." His voice broke as he picked you up from the bed, needing to feel even closer. Even tighter. Your legs wrapped around him in response as your moans hit a fervored pitch. He gripped your thighs, using them to bounce you up and down his veiny shaft, using you to milk him. Eren sat back, letting the moonlight bathe your back as your hair stuck to your skin, mingling with his.

"I love you." He said. It cut through your incoherent moans, your whimpers of satisfaction. You pulled back to rest your forehead against his, letting yourself stare at him. To be seen by him. He could have done anything to look at you forever, to live his world only through your eyes.

"I love you too, 'ren." You whispered, and it pushed him over the edge. He slammed you back into the bed, load whines ripping from his throat as his hips snapped against yours over and over. You. You. You. You invaded his every sense, his every particle. You were Eren's everything.

When he came, it was like a dam breaking. Flooding you, making you cream around him. You overflowed with him, and he was at once addicted to the sensation. You cried out with him, your moans mingling as his hot mouth overtook yours. His cheeks were wet. He shook as you kissed, collapsing against you. His body was hot and muscular, the scratches you left on his back steaming slightly.

You lay there for peaceful moments, pressing your face into the top of his head while he listened to your heartbeat. He would do anything to ensure that it would never stop. He was going to do anything to ensure it never stopped.

Even if that meant he wouldn't always be there to hear it.

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morgana-ren · 3 years ago

Note

Nasty shiggy playing video games with his captive hc

Okay, you asked for it. I’m not responsible for what’s about to go down here. All the usual trigger warnings for dubcon and noncon ahead. You guys know the deal already.

Alright, so for starters, we all know this dude is a total nerd. I know some folks don’t believe that he hangs around playing video games for hours on end pre-Kamino disaster, but for the sake of this ask and my lust, we’re going to pretend he does.

Shigaraki is kind of a jack of all trades when it comes to gaming. His steam account has more games on it than he could possibly ever play in a lifetime, but he likes to have them regardless because he never knows where his whims are going to take him. He enjoys extreme turn based strategy for when he wants to feel intelligent (or smarter than other people at dominating), sandbox games for when he feels like running around and causing general mayhem, hack and slash for mindless slaughter, online for the rare times he feels like being cooperative, etc. Sometimes he plays those stupid shock value games that only exist to be controversial, sometimes he plays horror just to say ‘fuck you’ to the developer because he can sit through the whole thing with a straight face and steady 70 bpm.

He’s good. He’s very good. He’s a quick thinker and gets the hang of things very quickly. There’s not very many games out there that he can’t beat with relative ease, and those ones are usually ones he just flat out doesn’t enjoy.

When Shigaraki takes his beloved and spirits them away to his room, it’s very quickly apparent that he’s a nasty little gamer boy. If you’ve ever met a nasty little gamer boy, this adds a whole new level of terror to the “Oh God I’ve been kidnapped” factor by way of “Oh God I’ve been kidnapped by one of those guys”.

Eventually he’s gunna get sick of you just sitting there watching him play (more accurately, desperately thinking of an escape plan while he clicks and taps away). He likes it at first because in a twisted way, he wants to impress you with his skill, but he’s a nasty little shithead who wants to watch you squirm, and the closer you are to him, the more you squirm.

He’s not going to tease you, at least at first. He’s going to watch and see how quickly you can acclimate yourself to the situation.

If you’re new to gaming or just don’t like it, prepare to be miserable.

He’s a jerk. There’s no way around it. He’s going to throw you into the thick of things with your Level 1 character, not teach you shit about how to play, and when you inevitably die, he’s going to give you the side-eye and say “What do you want me to do about it? It’s not my fault you’re useless.”

In that same breath, he won’t let you quit. He’s going to resurrect you, sure, but he’s going to make it very plain that you ‘owe’ him for every single gold he spends doing it before the level ends.

Eventually he’s going to grow bored of watching you frantically try and learn the keys and shortcuts and dying every 3 minutes like clockwork, so he’ll put on a training ground level for you.

Sounds nice, right? He’s trying? He’s not.

He’s going to pull you over into his chair and situate you on his lap nice and inappropriate. His legs spread just so, your ass pressed firm against the crotch of his jeans so that every single time you jostle even a little bit, you can feel exactly why he wanted you there. You’re separated from his hardening cock by literally less than a centimeter of threadbare fabric and he wants you to know that.

As you try and focus on learning just what in the hell it is you’re supposed to be doing, he’s going to be whispering in your ear the whole time, chest flush against your back and occasionally rutting his lower body into you under the guise of ‘readjusting’.

“That’s right.” “Just like that.” “Good girl.” “Do it faster.” “See what happens when you listen to me?” “Don’t stop doing that.” “See? Isn’t this fun?” “Keep doing that and you just might live through this.”

Loading screens become the bane of your existence because not only can you see your pathetic, flushed face, but you can see the way he’s leering from behind you. That manic face of his, heavy lidded, mouth agape, eyes glazed, reeking of licentiousness and the barely corralled urge to bend you over the desk. It’s only a matter of time and you know that, but that doesn’t mean you need the reminder.

It doesn’t really matter how good your clumsy little fingers get at the controls. He’s going to belittle you regardless. Anytime you get remotely comfortable with what you’re doing, he’s going to drag you into harder and harder areas just to watch you drown in inexperience.

Eventually he’s going to get bored of torturing you and watching you fail. As funny as it is to see how stressed out you get trying like hell to keep your head above water with him, he hasn’t forgotten the main reason be brought you here.

He’ll pull you off his gaming chair and chuck you onto his bed, leering over you and taunting you with that playful lilt to his tone.

“You suck at video games. Maybe you’d be better at something else.”

He’s in for a surprise if you’re a gamer yourself, though you are arguably no better off with him even if you are.

It’s a bit of a shock to him when you take immediately to the controls like you already know what you’re doing. If you’re feeling bold, you can ask if he’ll allow you to import your character so you don’t have to start from scratch, but chances are he’s not that generous.

Still, you’re good enough at what you’re doing to be able to keep up with him so long as you let him do most of the tanking on heavy hitter enemies. He leaves behind the powerful armor and you’re grateful, even if you know it’s not because he wants you to have it but more because he doesn’t need it himself.

Believe it or not, he’s actually pretty psyched to have someone to play with at first. He certainly wasn’t expecting to be pleasantly surprised by kidnapping someone who is equally skilled in gaming, but it’s nice that he has something in common with you other than wanting to fuck you into the mattress. He can’t do that all the time so it’s good to know there will be something he can enjoy during the down time.

Eventually he’s going to kick things up a notch and fight you one on one. You have pretty much no chance at winning against him with his hyper-powered character versus your brand new one, but you’ll put up one hell of a fight.

“Hey, you’re pretty good at that.” “Skilled at it huh? You probably have a lot of practice.” “Don’t let me get you on your back, now.” “Stop struggling.” “Aw, are you gunna cry?” “You look good beneath me.” “Don’t make me put you in your place.” “The way you’re playing, I’m starting to think you like it when I dominate you.”

It’s inevitable that you’ll lose. Truth be told, you could play a lot better without his thinly veiled suggestive remarks, and you’re certain he knows that. He doesn’t miss the look on your face, filing it away for later.

After he’s beaten you down enough, he’s going to just watch you play with unnerving intensity. It’s hard to focus when you can literally almost feel him ogling you, but you do your best. Though even as his cock is straining against his jeans, he’s still an insufferable know-it-all at gaming. You’re not sure which is more unnerving: the fact that he’s constantly bashing your build and belittling your strategy, or the fact he’s completely shameless in being openly lewd when he does it.

Still, Tomura is a man of action, and sitting and watching doesn’t do much for him. After a bit, he’ll tell you to log out and pat the seat beside him on the messy bed. Stall all you want, but eventually you will end up doing what he wants, and you know as well as he does what’s coming next, and if you didn’t, the fact he’s undoing his zipper with that heinous smile spreading across his face would clue you in real fast.

“You’re pretty good at games. That’s good. But I wanna see if you’re as good at other things now.”

#Anonymous #NSFT #its been a week and i already forgot how to format these posts #lemme know if i missed anything #Nasty stuff under the read more

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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

Text

Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away)

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth @bfharry and @hardcandy-harry for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!!

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care. She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart.

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.”

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral. Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please send feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #prince harry styles #Royal AU #Harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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spacedikut · 3 years ago

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Derek would ask Spencer to explain how he feels about u to try and get him to understand that he’s in love with you but Spencer would just be like... is that not friendship?

god this idea is so fucking good but. i didn’t do it justice cause i went down a way more serious route :p 1.4k words, gn!reader

the team have been trying tirelessly to get spencer to just... see. what the rest of them see. the longing, lingering looks and requests to work together, the subtle touches that are so sweet in themselves but, with the added knowledge that spencer is Spencer, its...well, the team knows what they see. spencer is just lagging behind a little.

they try a whole plethora of methods. everyone talks to him and spencer either doesn’t connect the dots or simply says “we’re just friends!” and emily gets so frustrated she flicks spencer on the forehead and leaves a mark (i ask you picture pure, innocent spencer sat at his desk, watching emily’s retreating form with nothing but a puppy-dog confused expression and a red dent in the middle of his forehead).

penelope is at her wits end, so derek decides to step up and retry a very basic method: talking spencer through how he feels for you. surely he’s self-aware enough that he’ll hear himself and hear how un-friendlike it all sounds and... tada! love.

but it’s never quite as easy as you’ll think it’ll be, is it?

spencer should’ve known something was amiss when derek asked him if he wanted to hang out and let him choose where they would go - spencer? being allowed to choose where to hang out after work? have you ever heard of something called a red flag?

so spencer chooses a cafe which - immediately, the second they step through the doorway - spencer has a joy to him, telling derek about the last time you and him came here and what you ordered and what you thought of it and all these details that even the most attentive best friend wouldn’t think were anything more than trivial matters. he remembers the shape you tore your napkin into, for goodness sake. in what realm is that friendly behaviour?

then, to make matters worse, spencer, mid-walk to a table in the corner by a large window, abruptly changes directions, making derek almost spill his coffee. spencer apologies, then says they can’t sit in that booth cause that’s where you and spencer sit and - well. that’s your and spencer’s place, you can’t disrupt that! friends! friendly things and friends doing friendly stuff. friendship.

derek gives this scoff that spencer is so used to he barely reacts. when they sit, spencer is acutely aware that derek is staring - furrowed brows and this intense, firm gaze that only appears when he’s thinking. spencer’s only slightly intimidated.

he’s never been able to lie to derek. he’s never been a good liar, period. he’s good at omissions and burying himself and his emotions but, god, if someone asks just the right question, he’ll fold like the cheap deckchair he truly is.

and derek... derek knows spencer better than he knows himself sometimes.

(is there anyone else that has similar qualities? no. of course not. only his best pal derek and not a colleague/very pretty person known as You)

a question. a question is all it takes.

“so, you and y/n come here a lot?”

derek’s starting light and spencer is so enthralled at the mention of you every worry he had about why he’s here with derek and why derek is looking at him like that flies out the window.

“we do! actually, it’s the perfect meeting spot; the most convenient distance between our apartments and we both have favourite drinks here. we’ve become regulars, actually, so we make a habit of coming at least once a week at a minimum-“

and he keeps going, sweetly reminiscing about the first time you visited to the silly games you’ve created - because you’ll spend that long here, sitting opposite each other and just each other - and derek wonders how spencer doesn’t see it. doesn’t see the way he lights up at the mention of you, rambles like you’re a statistic spencer’s known for years and can’t help but bestow on everyone at every opportunity, not to mention the physical reaction he has to you. you’re not even present and spencer is wide-eyed, rosy cheeked, permanent curl to either side of his lips that looks involuntary.

he’s in love with you. his entire self, from head to toe, from mind to soul. everyone can see it, except you and him, apparently.

“they make you happy, huh?”

“well, obviously,” spencer hehs, “they’re my best friend.”

there’s an opportunity here, shyly gleaming from the corner of the conversation and derek digs it out. “you got a definition for best friend, reid?”

spencer’s taking a sip of his drink, but is happy to share his knowledge. he’s not quite as bright when he’s saying it. “a best friend has many definitions. friendship itself is usually defined as a relationship of mutual affection between people - it is a stronger form of interpersonal bond than an association, and has been studied in multiple academic fields-“

derek hums, encouraging him to keep going. he’ll get there.

and he does, after delving a little too far into the nature versus nurture debate.

“id consider you a best friend. jj, too. and garcia, of course. except... except with y/n it’s- it’s different.”

derek pretends to be shocked. “how’s that?”

“well... they have all the qualities id want in a friend - honesty, generosity, empathy...humour-“ spencer smiles to himself, small and intimate, remembering an inside joke between the two of you. “but they’re more than that, too. they’re there for me - not-not that you guys aren’t there for me too-“ derek just raises an eyebrow. “but...it’s different, with them. it always is.”

the shift of topic from friendship to you has spencer unfocused on his surroundings, eyes glazed over as he stares to the side of derek, who feels like he’s intruding - he rarely understands what goes on in that big head of spencer’s, vast in it’s knowledge and memories and self-perception, but right now he’s confident he does.

it’s you. he’s thinking of you, the moments you have together - perhaps in this very cafe - that are reserved for spencer and spencer alone, a side of you derek will never know because it’s not his to know; it’s spencer’s, just as spencer is yours.

his voice is level but distant, the warning signs of that magnificent mind finding the pieces and putting them together. “i think-i think about them often. how they are, what they’re doing, if they’re thinking of me too. i know they’re only a text message away or-or, on cases, a few feet away... i guess i don’t want to seem clingy. or desperate.”

“they’d never think that. you know that, right?”

“i know. i-i know that. but-i don’t... i can’t.. i don’t want to risk losing them, i guess. one wrong move and they’ll realise what a-what a complete mess i am. ill unravel and they’ll see all the dark inside and they... they don’t deserve that.”

derek goes to interrupt, because god is spencer wrong, but he doesn’t have the chance.

“they deserve love and laughter and everything i can’t give them if they... if they get too close.” now, spencer brings himself to look derek in the eye. there’s a seriousness there, a solemn stand that spencer doesn’t often take. “i can’t lose them, morgan. i can’t.” his hands tighten around his coffee cup. “i want them here, with me, for as long as i can convince them to stay. i don’t want to be selfish, i don’t- i don’t mean to be, but. i want this. i want them. every day for the rest of my life, i want them. i choose them. im just terrified they’ll see me and... they won’t choose me.”

there’s an expected silence that befalls the two of them, the busting background noise of the cafe the only moving piece. does he get it now? does he understand what has motivated every thought and feeling? every worry and action?

“reid,” derek says, softly, in a tone that has spencer straightening his back. “that’s not... that’s not just friendship. you know that, right? you can see that?”

spencer blinks.

no. you’re friends - close friends, yes, but friends nonetheless.

but he thinks back to what he’s just said -

he’d say the same for jj, right? for penelope, and for derek. even gideon, perhaps.

except... no. he wouldn’t. it’s for you, he’s for you, all of it and all of him.

and then the picture is as clear as day. no fog, no obscurity, no hesitance - and spencer’s relieved. relieved that finally, finally, he can put all of his feelings into one simple sentence.

“im in love with them.”

“yeah,” derek says, leaning back against the booth. “yeah, reid, you are.”

#headcanons #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #i did not.. expect this to be over 1000 words my deepest condolences #mine #i hope at least one person likes this #india if u see this im sorry u had to put up with my breakdown over this woukd u like me to send u flowers #q

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anime-boy09 · 3 years ago

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Sukuna X Fem!reader lemon

Synopsis - You live in a house with Megumi, Nobara and Yuji Itadori/Sukuna. You understand Yuji and Sukuna do switch out while having the same body, and it is no big deal. Yuji is pretty fun to be around and you enjoy his energy. Whenever Sukuna is out, he always gets a little handy. This is a college au but everyone can still use their cursed arts.

NSFW Warning: 18+, some holding down stuff, overstimulation, dominant!sukuna, teasing, smut, vaginal stuff, edging, some butt stuff? Very little though.

Note: uhh, this is my first time writing stuff like this XD so bear with me!

Words: 3.2K

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It was a long day for you. College studies and work. The skies were dark by the time you got home and you were ready to relax.

You noticed Yuji come out of his room, looking sleepy.

“Oh, [your name] you’re home! Whats up??” He bounced over to you.

“Hey Itadori, well...pretty freaking beat but I’m alright.” You take your jacket off and hang it on a hook. Then, you made your way to a couch and plopped down on it.

“Worked ya’ hard today, huh?” He entered the kitchen that was nearby, opening the fridge to search for a good snack.

You nodded. Your job wasn’t necessarily a difficult one, but a busy one. You worked at a local coffee shop near the college you attended. Because it was on campus, it was always full of students and teachers alike.

“I’ll probably take a shower soon and then head to bed for the night..” You checked your phone for a bit, searching through messages and notifications.

Yuji made a muffled sound as he was munching on some melon bread he found in the fridge.

“Shounds good! (sounds good)” He finished eating the bread quickly before continuing.

You put your phone away and stared at him intently. “No peeking this time!”

He got flustered and looked away pouting, “Was not even my fault!! Booo....”

You wagged a finger at him and stood up from the couch. He was cute when he pouted. You giggled and then headed towards the bathroom door, opening and closing it behind you. You made sure to lock the door.

Definitely don’t need any surprises tonight.

You started undressing from your work uniform. You pulled your pants down along with your panties. Then unbuttoned your shirt and slid it off to reveal your blouse and bra underneath.

The cold air felt nice on your warm skin. You finished undressing and set the clothes aside to a corner of the bathroom. You then turned on the shower and made sure it was set to a warm setting.

After a moment, you stepped into the shower and slid the shower door closed. The water hits your skin like a breath of fresh air. You sat under the water for a moment and then took some body wash to scrub your skin down.

You washed your arms and chest first. Your breasts weren’t too big of an issue, but sometimes it made your upper back hurt. You moved to your stomach and sides, humming along to a popular song that was stuck in your head.

The doorknob jiggled from the outside, though you did not hear it at first. You continued to wash your legs and hips, your body relaxing. It jiggled again and you stopped to look towards the door through the tinted glass.

“Don’t even think about it!” You called out, worried that Yuji was attempting to get into the bathroom. You knew Yuji was kind of a perv, but you also thought he was adorable at the same time. Maybe you had a slight crush on him..but now’s not the time to be thinking about this!

That other part of him was a force to be reckoned with. You know he’s a curse who is technically Yuji too. But...he’s also different.

He’s not afraid to be forward and blunt. He’s made nasty comments about your “innocent” body here and there. Although they were uncalled for remarks, you could not lie about how it made you feel.

Was it because he was a thousand year old demon? A deity that can take you down. You bit your lip a little.

“Oh! Snap out of it…!” You told yourself and patted your cheeks, flustered. Sukuna was also technically Yuji.

Yuji and you were pretty good friends too...

The doorknob did not jiggle again and the only noise came from the shower.

You were not sure about what the noise was. Maybe it was your imagination playing tricks?

You sighed, too tired for this shit. You continued to wash your face and hair. It was quiet for a time being.

“You think you can lock yourself away? Naughty girl.” The sultry sound of someone's voice whispered in your ear from behind.

You whipped your body around but no one was in the shower with you. Confused, you covered your body up with your arms.

“Y-You better not be in here!!” You growled through your teeth. You heard a deep, lavish chuckle from inside the bathroom.

“But, I am displeased at this moment. Do continue cleaning that dedicant body of yours.” His voice was velvety and rich with pleasure.

You blushed and put your hand on the door handle to keep it closed.

“H-how did you even get in here??” You stuttered out, covering your chest with a free arm.

The voice laughed and sucked his teeth before replying.

“Were you thinking of me? You’re so flustered. Also, I am not a feeble human like you are. I have my ways” He put his hand on the shower door, and you could see the shadow of his body.

The shower door flung open and there stood what looked like Yuji standing outside the shower. His pink hair was pushed back, thick tattoos lined his face and his eyes were crimson red.

You squeaked and covered yourself, embarrassed.

“Now, [your name] there is no need to be modest.” Sukuna entered the shower with you after taking off his shirt. He left his shorts on for the time being.

You backed up into a far corner of the shower, intensely blushing. Perhaps you have thought about moments like this one before.

But you never thought it would come into fruition like this!

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as Sukuna came closer to you. His eyes scanned over your wet, naked body. It felt as if he was looking straight through you. Feeling you up without doing so.

Your body stood frozen by the corner. You wanted to push him out and yell at him, but you felt hypnotized. Your eyes didn’t meet his.

“G-get out! I-i’m…!” Before you could reply, he reached out to grab your chin to force you to look at him.

“Poor little lamb. Cowering in the corner...Look at me. I know your body yearns.” His lips pull into a grin.

You were kind of turned on by this..shit. You thought to yourself. You’re playing into him...but you can’t stop.

You try to move away from his grasp. Sukuna let go of your chin, only to grab your wrists and pin them above your head.

You were now fully exposed to the King of Curses. You squeaked when you realized your body was up for grabs.

“Let go! you!...Ah!” You tried to yell at him, but his free hand started fondling your body.

“Many nights, I wanted to do this. In the bed, in the living room...but this prison of a brat traps me. It’s so disappointing…”

You bit your lip so nothing would escape. “W-why not go for Nobara or something??” You look at his eyes this time, as they gazed upon your own.

“Her? That crazy bitch? Don’t make me laugh.” His grip tightened your wrists. With a smirk, he pinched one of your wet nipples which made you gasp.

“That’s what I like to hear instead. Come on, louder.” He pinched harder which made your body

You flinch away from his touch.

You were stubborn. This demon looking guy was the King of Curses who could easily take you down.

In more ways than one.

You just glared into his eyes, and ceased all noise. This made him impatient. Maybe that was not a good move on your end.

“Oho~? Gonna be tough for me, girlie? Two can play at this game. I will get what I want.” His voice sounded rough and lavish, which sent chills up your spine.

He let go of your wrists, but somehow they were still in place. You were confused by this and attempted to move them forwards. Nothing was budging.

They were being held by his second pair of arms.

“Sukuna! Agh, let me gooo!” You whined, wiggling in the corner. He watched your breasts move about, his gaze moving towards your hips.

The stream of water was still running, drenching your hair. Sukuna’s shorts were getting wet and you swore you could start seeing an outline of something...big.

He moved to press his lips against your soft skin, starting at your stomach and going lower...and lower….

You could squeeze your legs shut, but it was no use. His large hand was pressed into your thigh, keeping it firmly in place.

The next thing you knew, his soft tongue was pressing into your womanhood. Your body shivered and you let a small whine out of your mouth.

“Ahhh, you’re already drenched. Dirty girl. You’re in luck..I’m hungry.” He said the last part with an evil chuckle and continued to drag his rough tongue up and down your folds.

This was a new feeling to you. Of course you’ve had sensual activities before, but nothing like this.

Your hips move by themselves against his tongue. Damn, this felt good, you thought to yourself.

There was no hesitation in his movements. He grabbed your ass tight too which made you moan out.

“Stay put, girlie! Damn!” He slapped your ass which made you squeak from that too. You whined and tried to keep your hips still. “Ugh, let me do what I want” He shot a glare up at me with his red eyes.

You met his gaze with your own glazed eyes.

He kept lapping at your womanhood and started focusing on that little button of yours. This made your back arch against the back of the shower. You shook your head from how sensitive it was.

This only made Sukuna want more of you.

He began to suck on it harshly without a break. You gasped and whined against the shocks that boiled up in your stomach.

“S-sukuna..~” You moaned out unconsciously. He smirked and then pulled his face away from your womanhood.

“What is it, you little slut? Want more? You’re going to have to beg.” He dug his nails into your thighs and dragged them.

Why is he so good at this?! You thought to yourself, your body shuddering.

“N-no…! I-I don’t…” You looked away from him and bit your lip. This was not the answer he was looking for from you. He frowned and slapped your ass, putting his hand right in the middle, lifting one of your cheeks. You squeaked from the sudden slap.

You felt something wet and thick enter your behind, teasing the other hole.

You audibly gasped and wiggled from the feeling. What was this?!

Sukuna had two arms holding your wrists up, one on your behind and another holding your leg up. He moved closer to your face with an evil smirk.

His hand had opened a mouth and extended a tongue between your cheeks.

“...I said, beg for it, slut.” His tongue on his hand didn’t go deep, just enough to drive you crazy. It kept gliding past this second hole and your entrance ever so gently.

Your hips attempted to follow the lapping tongue’s movements but it was just close enough to every sensitive bit down there to irritate you. You moved your hips around and whined at the roughness of the tongue.

“P..please…” You panted out, your body quivering.

“Please...what?” He pulled his hand away from your behind and the mouth disappeared on it. He grabbed your face with it.

“Please s-sir....b-but..out of the shower?” You wanted more. The shower water was increasingly annoying.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and picked you up in his arms abruptly. You had no time to react. He booked it to your bedroom and slammed you down on the bed angrily.

“You’re fucking lucky no one else is here right now..” He growled and pushed your knees up to your chest to continue his meal.

“What-! Ahh~...” You whined out, feeling his warm mouth back onto your folds. His grip was so strong that you could barely move. Everything was tingling and sensitive.

He then slid two fingers inside of your entrance, moving them violently in and out of you. You practically screamed at the sudden movements inside your walls.

“Yeah? I want to hear more, (Your name).” His long fingers hit every inch of your insides, and it felt so good. Your womanhood was quivering and you felt like you were getting close.

“S-sukuna...I-i’m going t-to-” You could barely speak but those were the words that were stuttering out. He smirked again and took his fingers out.

Your body was trembling with anticipation, waiting for a release. You were just about to come when he stopped. You pouted and looked at Sukuna, wondering what his plan was.

“You are not allowed to have all the fun. My turn. Flip over.” He barked at you. You flipped your body over onto your knees, looking up at him.

He dropped his shorts and stood menacingly in front of you; his gaze was intimidating to you.

His member was...intense. He pushed it against your lips. “Open them.”

You obeyed him and opened your mouth. He grabbed the back of your head and moved it up and down on his member. You whined against his size and started sucking properly.

Sukuna leaned his head back and groaned at the feeling of your warm mouth.

“Mm...you feel hot, [your name]...” He breathed deeply as you wrapped your tongue around him.

You had no control over your head at first. His cock was forcing itself in and out of your small mouth, close to your throat. This made you gag and want to pull away from him. He stopped briefly and let you move your head to the side to cough.

“I-i’m sorry...ack!” your own spit was running down your chin, as you looked up to him like a puppy dog. Tears glistened the corners of your eyes. Sukuna raised a hand to your cheek and pushed them away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry on me...I should be apologizing…!.” a softer voice spoke. It sounded like Yuuji’s. His eyes looked apologetic, but turned on. He didn’t appreciate Sukuna throwing you around but, what could he do? When the Lord of Curses was in this hot and heavy mood, nothing changed until he was finished.

The hand that nicely rested on the side of your cheek, then grabbed your mouth and squeezed your face together.

“Why did you stop? Because your small mouth can’t handle my cock?” He scuffed at you. “I know what can though” He smirked and your eyes widened, shaking your head.

“P-please...n-not there!” Your blush intensified. You have done it before but with his size...there’s no way!

Sukuna pushed you over and spread your legs. He was about to push himself in when you stopped him. “Wait! Protection!” You motioned to a nearby dresser and he rolled his eyes.

“Seriously? You don’t want to bear my offspring?” He chuckled and you narrowed your eyes at him. “How disappointing…fine, I will listen to you this time, on one condition. Make a deal with me beforehand.”

You gulped and leaned up onto your elbows. Making a deal with a demon seems sketchy, especially in the predicament you are in right now. “... what’s your deal?” You replied cautiously.

“I will wear protection...if you let me go hard and do what I need to do.” He ran a finger along the inner side of your thigh. This made you shiver. You are definitely not walking straight after this.

You bit your lip and nodded “O-okay..” You felt your body heat up as he went to put on a condom. Once he was back, you had moved to your stomach, butt up in the air for him.

He didn’t care what position you were in, he just wanted to be pleasured. He grabbed your hips and pressed his member against your entrance.

“It’s gonna be so good, girlie. You’ll want more” He then pushed in without a second thought. You barely had time to get used to it as you moaned out.

Your legs trembled at the feeling of his girth stretching you wide. You wondered if Yuji was able to feel this as well...you felt embarrassed for a second. It didn’t last long because Sukuna started going fast and hard into you.

You squeaked and then started moaning with every push, your mind melting away. He grunted, feeling your insides squeeze and pulse around his member.

“T-too….fast!” You managed to whine out as you squeezed the sheets. He replied with a slap on your ass. You yelped out, taking that as a warning to keep quiet.

. You made a deal with him and that deal stands until he releases.

The thrusting continued, on and on...your mind felt like jello. You moaned and whined with each passing push.

Your body started to tremble from the amount of times you’ve come. You attempt to pull yourself away from his grasp and he notices.

“...where are you heading to...slut?” He panted and grabbed your arms, pinning them behind your back. With those arms he brought you to sit up on your knees.

Sukuna slowed his pace and whispered in your ear seductively. “...ohhh [your name]~ your pussy makes me feel soooo good.” His tongue glided up your sensitive ears, your heart skipping a beat.

“That’s a good girl. Obey me…” He had all four arms out once again, like he did in the shower. This meant he had more control over your alluring body. He reached around your body with curious hands, one landing on your breast and another by your cunt.

You gasp at the feeling of hands assaulting your overstimulated body. He cupped your breast in his hand, giving it a loving squeeze.

“...Say my name.” The wandering hand by your cunt began to tease your button. The one part of your body that seemingly shut you down whenever it was pleasured.

You shook your head, moaning out “No! S-sukuna..!” Your hips swayed from side to side, in over to avoid his fingers. His hips moved faster, holding you in place with your arms forcefully.

“Don’t make me angry...little girl~. I have many plans for you.” His thrusts grew impatient as he quicked his hips once more. He was growing close and you could tell.

His sultry moans were echoing the room with your own voice. He continued to spin his finger tips around the top of your clit, teasing your hood.

He pinched and twisted your little button within his quick fingertips, sending continuous moans out your mouth.

The wave of overstimulation crept up your spine and into your stomach.

You had no time to react to letting yourself squirt all over the sheets. You came over his cock, making your walls squeeze tightly against him. This made him groan and lose himself a little.

“[your name]....o-oh yeah…!” He came into the condom and held you close to his glistening body. He dug his sharp teeth into your shoulder, breaking the skin. You gasped from the bite and felt his member get warm on the inside.

He let go of your bruised shoulder and pulled out of your sore cunt. Your sore body fell to the bed, quivering and panting. Sukuna groaned and tossed the filled condom into a nearby trash.

You were gonna feel this one tomorrow for sure. You squeezed your eyes shut and relaxed for a moment. Sukuna saw that you weren't getting up or moving right away and leaned down into your face.

"Yo girlie, you good? This brat is worried." He motioned to himself, meaning Yuji. You slowly nodded and replied, "y-yeah...just need a second..."

He sighed and plopped down on the bed next to your body.

"w-what are you doing...I said i'll be okay.." You looked over to him, laying next to you. Without looking, he grabbed the back of your head and forced it into his chest.

"Just stop talking."

You weren't expecting this...kindness? He was so rough a moment ago and now he's a different person. Maybe Yuji's yelling at him? It didn't matter now...all you wanted to do was rest, if only for a moment.

#jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #anime #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x y/n

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years ago

Text

Brat | G.W

George Fabien Weasley is a Brat tamer. This is not up for debate.

WARNINGS // SMUT 18+, rough sex, oral, throat fucking, brat, cheating, consensual relationship, breeding kink, dirty talk, degradation kink, daddy kink, dom/sub, brat taming, Husband!George <3

A/N // I can only apologise to my vanilla beans on this one... its pure, raw filth.

The bass was pumping through your veins as you danced, swaying your hips to the beat against some poor man’s crotch, liquor glazed eyes locked only, however, on your boyfriend from across the dancefloor. He sat with his legs spread on a bar stool, his full body turned towards you as he observed your every movement. George wasn’t mad yet, you hadn’t quite pushed him far enough to get there but he could already feel his own possessiveness begin to creep up on him, while a part of him loved watching other men (and sometimes women) throw themselves at you, another part ached knowing full well he would always be the one to take you home.

Your hand was on the man’s chest as you leaned up to speak into his ear, shouting over the music. The way you pushed up onto your toes with that movement made your ass stick out perfectly, the skirt you were wearing riding up just enough to give your husband something to think about. You liked this game just as much as George did, having set out the clear rules of the relationship, way before you would have let things get this far; he didn’t stop you from kissing other girls at the clubs you went to, he couldn’t deny the way it made his cock twitch when he caught your lips locked with another girls. It would always drive him crazy, seeing you so needy but knowing that the true ache was only for him. You both drew the line at kissing other men however, unless you were searching for a particularly rough punishment, which tonight you were not; only wanting to play.

Your hands were threaded in a gorgeous brunette’s soft shoulder length hair as you pulled her in for a kiss. She smelled divine, like the strongest flower in a whole garden and in that moment you were shocked to feel her pull a more dominant rank in the kiss, her hands firmly cupping your cheek as her tongue explored the dip and curve of your own. It was an unusual experience to be dominated by a woman but it was something you enjoyed, her touch more feminine than George's, but still just as firm, making you weak at the knees. She pulled away, ears pressed against your ear as she spoke.

“Guy in green by the bar can’t take his eyes off you, wanna give him something to stare at?” Your breath hitched in your throat as her lips trailed along your jaw, watching from across the dancefloor as he twiddled with the wedding band, no expression on his face but his eyes were locked on you. You breathed out a ‘yes’ in response to her, her hands coming up to grope at your ass as she went back in for another kiss. Something bubbled up inside George, wanting to tear you away but he was far too pleased with the show. So it seems, a few other men in the club, ogling at the sight of two gorgeous girls causing a scene.

You loved the way other boys would stare, It drove George mad; making him all the more possessive and commanding. When you broke away from her lips again, you caught your husband’s eyes once more, watching as he lazily beckoned you to him with his middle and pointer fingers, his elbow resting against his knee.

“Mm sorry, I’ll be back.” you whined against her lips as she tried to pull you back in, focused now only on George. She gave you a wink as you slipped from her grip, the burning eyes of your lover drinking in the sight of you, making his heart beat out of his chest in sync with the bassline of the pulsing song playing.

“What was that all about, doll, hm?” his hand found your hip as you nestled between his thighs, your head resting innocently on his shoulder as you caught your breath, still winded by the intense kiss.

“You know I like it when other boys give me attention, daddy” your fingers raked delicately through his hair, knowing you’d pushed him to the right space, your eyes trailed away from him, causing you to tilt your chin up so that your eyes could lock, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was all too sweet for now and it seems he was easing you in gently.

“And other girls it seems, is my cock not good enough for you, princess?” You were fully aware that you were surrounded by other people, but the dirty looks the two of you got never seemed to deter either of you, knowing full well that you loved each other deeply, trusting of one another so much that you could do things like this. His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out your wedding band, slipping it back onto your finger. The sign he was ready to take you home, already riled up enough by what he’d seen.

“It really is such a shame you’re such a disobedient little brat, we could’ve had lots more fun tonight” His hand held yours as he pulled you through the crowds, slipping past the bodies till you reached a hall, making you stop in your tracks, crossing your arms.

“I don’t want to go.” you pouted at him, feet planted firmly to the ground in protest, you'd gotten this far and you were more than ready to push your luck. He instead stood there waiting, not even attempting to continue to entertain your charade, no matter how bratty you wanted to be. You stood with silence between you as the thump of the bass filled the air, elevating the tension.

“Ready to behave and be a good girl?” He spoke softly as she shoved his hands in his pockets, watching you shake your head as you stood your ground.

“No? Wrong answer” He mocked, while he quickly spun on his heel, heading towards the exit, leaving you to call after him, stopping dead in his tracks when when you yell his name at him. "Where are you going, George?"

“Where am I going? I’m leaving you here, daddy doesn’t take bratty girls home, since you want to stay so much.” His tone made you rethink your action, quickly falling to his heel as your arm wrapped around his, pressing yourself into his side to steady yourself as he guided you out of the club.

“That changed your tune quickly, still… you need a lesson in obedience, I think.” You walked along the bustling streets of London, finding a small secluded alley to hide away before you are apparated back to yours and George's shared home. He wasted no time, having you pinned against the wall as he kissed you hungrily, showing exactly who was the dominant one as his grip tightened on your jaw. You let him kiss you like a filthy whore, even let him pull away to observe how your lipstick smeared so perfectly with his rough kisses.

It wasn't long until he had you on your knees for him, hand wrapped around his shaft as you stroked him gently, but your teasing touches weren't enough for him, holding your jaw open with one hand as he slapped the tip of his cock against your begging tongue. His eyes burning into yours with every passing moment.

"Does my desperate little brat want her mouth fucked, hm?" You nodded eagerly as you began to take his length in past your lips, attempting to bob your head, but every time he pulled back, tutting at you. His fingers running through your hair to pull it out of your face into a makeshift ponytail as he used his other hand to tease your mouth in the same way he did your cunt when you desperately wanted him, pushing his head just past your lips before pulling back out and repeating it

"Open that throat up for me, doll, you ready?" you hummed a quick please off of your tongue before his cock was pushing into your mouth, hardly managing half of his length as the tip hit the back of your throat, causing the sound of a gag to echo through the room. His hand was on the back of your head, pushing your mouth to take him a little deeper before pulling out completely. Leaving you gasping for air as a trail of saliva connected his cock and your lips together, mouth open and ready again to take his length.

"Just like that, princess" He praised as you took him in once again, this time gagging as he held your head in place to push himself as deep as you could take down your throat once again, you were getting there, you just needed the training before he could really make use of your mouth. You were eager this time he pulled away, taking another gasp of air before spitting into your hand, pumping his cock before letting him slip inside your mouth once again. You let him push, let him sink his entire length in your mouth, feeling his cock slipping down your throat with every push.

"That's my girl, take it all in darling" The symphony of moans that fell from his mouth were hidden by the fact that he could hardly function. He slowly began bucking his hips as he fucked your mouth, the room filling with wet gagging sounds as you choked over him, saliva falling from your lips whenever he gave you a breather. His hand was smoothing down the hair at the back of your head gently while his hips set their relentless pace. You enjoyed this as much as he did, moaning over him as you looked up at him with begging eyes.

"You look so pretty with your mascara running down your cheeks, baby." he cooed as his thrusts grew rougher and slower, causing more tears to spill from your eyes, drawing his favourite gagging sound from your lips more and more often.

"Fuck, I love your Throat." He moved you to the bed, letting you lie down on your back before he was fucking your mouth again, at first his slow thrusts were to watch the way his cock made your throat bulge, hand coming down to press against it, the sensation made him twitch but he held himself strong as he fucked your throat until you were begging between every breather.

"Use your words, brat, what do you want?"

You were taking deep breaths as you tried to voice what you needed from him, reserved only to needy whines and moans for him, causing him to stuff his cock inside your mouth once more.

"Daddy doesn't understand whimpering, Princess, words only." He pulled from you again, this time you found the breaths within you to attempt to ask for what you wanted.

"Fuck me, Please." You begged, eyes desperately searching for his as you reached for him. Still you took deep shallow breaths as you watched him walk around you like a predator stalking its prey.

"You think bratty girls get their cunt fucked? You've been a very good girl tonight though, I may have to oblige." He didn't take much convincing before he was buried deep inside you hands gripped possessively to your hips as he set his pace, begs falling from your lips every time he hit your back wall.

"Want me to fill you with my cum, angel? Fuck a baby nice and good into your belly?" His delicious words ripped a moan from your throat as his hands brushed your hair out of your eyes, it didn't take long for you to be on edge, thumb rubbing across your clit as he fucked you. The way you squeezed around him as you came helped milk him of his cum, feeling it drip from your cunt as he pulled out.

"You've been such a good girl, let's get that makeup off your face, hm?" He reached into your bedside table drawer, grabbing the makeup wipes, using one to glide along your tear stained cheeks, part of him guilty to remove such a stunning mark left on your face. He took extra care in gently caressing your skin as you came down from your orgasm.

He ran you a bath, sitting outside of the tub as he helped clean the sticky sweat from your skin, massaging your scalp as he washed your hair and making sure that you were comfortable, relaxed and feeling safe. He had pushed you far this evening and it was only fair to check in and make sure you were happy and satisfied.

He carried your clean body to bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you. you snuggled into your fresh, clean sheets that your husband had prepared, waiting for his presence in bed patiently, immediately feeling safe the second he was next to you.

"Georgie, I was thinking… What if we stopped using the contraception spell?" His eyes went wide, pulling you into a cuddle as he hummed in satisfaction, fingers finding yours to tangle together. Bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your wedding band.

"I love you, If you're ready to be a parent, we can try for a baby, as many times as it needs, if you want a baba, we'll have one, Princess."

TAGLIST // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @loony-loopy-lupinn @rip-us @hopemalfoyweasley @pigwidgexn @pansydaisy

#George Weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter writing

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years ago

Text

you’re my living proof my love is alive

for @eddiediaz HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY <33

read on ao3

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

Eddie opens his eyes, the shade of the tree they’re under saving him from an assault of sunlight. He’d been dozing off and on, lulled by the warm day and the soft breeze and Buck’s fingers raking through his hair where his head rested on his lap. But something about Buck’s voice — not a sadness, not an edge, but something — wakes him up fully, and he rolls onto his back to look up at Buck’s face. He follows where Buck’s eyes have landed — on their family, spread out around them, absorbed in their own conversations while kids flit in and around them like over excited butterflies. He’s looking at them wistfully and in some sort of awe, and Eddie waits for him to elaborate.

“To the park?” he asks slowly when it looks like an explanation isn’t coming. “It’s like a 10 minute drive from our house.”

Buck tugs his ear, fighting and losing to the smile spreading on his face. “No, asshole. I mean all of this. Our family. You and me. Did you ever imagine we’d get a life like this?”

The breeze seems to blow a little cooler as Eddie takes that in, because honestly? No. All of this, the joy that he’s found here, is brighter and better than anything he ever let himself dream about.

And it’s not that he never thought he’d be happy or filled with some kind of lightness. It just wasn’t a priority — not when he had a team to lead or a marriage to try and fail to fix or a kid to take care of on his own. Everything and everyone else came first because those were things he could handle, tangible things with some kind of concrete solutions, the direct opposite of the amorphous, unreachable discomfort that always seemed to sit right at the base of his skull. And there were moments of joy, especially with Christopher — his smile, his laugh, the way he lit up at any opportunity to learn something new. Those were good moments, great moments, and Eddie treasured all of them, locking them up tight in his heart because they were sometimes the only things that got him through the day.

But still. No matter what, at the end of the day, he’d find himself in bed, surrounded by silence, fighting off the aching loneliness that grew stronger as the sun went down. Only then would he let himself indulge — he’d imagine a dip in the mattress next to him, warm skin begging for his touch, craving that feeling of being wanted by someone else despite the demons and nightmares that still haunted him.

He doesn’t really know if it made the loneliness better or worse.

Moving to LA helped — a fresh start for both of them, more opportunities, no one hovering over his every move waiting to swoop in the minute he made a mistake. He felt lighter, excited even, like maybe now things would actually turn around for him, like maybe he was ready to fill that space that sat in his heart. Maybe Shannon coming back was a sign that she was supposed to fill it the whole time, just like he thought when they were 19.

But then she left, permanently, just as quickly as she came, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything his heart or soul was telling him anymore.

So he threw himself back into what he knew best — being there for everyone else. Whether at work or with Chris, his focus was solely on the outside, ignoring any pangs of longing or indulgences because they didn’t matter. A person could only survive so many broken hearts in their lives, and he’s certain that watching the life fade out of Shannon’s eyes with no way of stopping it was the last one he’d be able to handle. It wasn’t a waste, this focusing on other people, and he wasn’t unhappy — how could he be when he had the best kid, the best friend, the best family that he’d cobbled together for himself, that had saved him time and again without even knowing it?

The loneliness lingered, though. It wrestled with the fear he felt so hard sometimes it blew the breath right out of his lungs. He thought he did an okay job of hiding it until Bobby sat him down and told him it was okay to move on, that it was okay to want to let someone in, to not carry the burdens on his own anymore. And he knew that, rationally, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that in the moments when his resolve cracked, his indulgences were no longer faceless. They had broad shoulders and strong arms, a halo of curls and eyes so blue they put the ocean to shame.

The problem was that this person was real and solid, an unshakeable presence in his and Chris’ world who smoothed out creases and stitched up tears in a way that was helpful, not in a way that made Eddie feel guilty for letting things get creased in the first place.

The problem was that the person his stupid, lonely heart had let in, without his consent, without him even noticing, was the person he knew would shatter his heart into a billion, unrepairable pieces if he ever lost him.

So he settled instead.

He found someone who was nice and low maintenance and good with Chris and it was enough. Or almost enough. Or as close to enough as he felt he deserved.

He feels another tug at his ear. “Did I lose you? Pretty sure your eyes just glazed over for like two minutes.”

Nothing he does gets past Buck, that’s for sure, and the knowledge of that warms him better than the sunshine. He reaches up and threads their fingers together, kissing the back of Buck’s hand before resting both on his chest, over his heart. He sighs, eyes slipping closed again. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

“And forgot my question,” Buck says, squeezing his hand. “So did you? Imagine this? Or something like it, I guess.”

He’s better with words than he used to be, can be straightforward with his feelings without breaking out into a cold sweat. But still, these words stick, because years and countless therapy sessions later, he knows exactly how deep the darkness went back then, and he hates thinking about it. Hates remembering the full body ache of loneliness, how dull and bleak it made everything seem.

But also, he can’t — won’t — lie to Buck, and he’s warm enough now, surrounded by sunlight and laughter and Buck’s hand on his chest, that he’s not worried about being pulled under again.

“No,” he finally says. “I didn’t let myself think about anything like this for a really long time. But when I finally did, it was never as good as the real thing.”

Buck hums but doesn’t say anything else. He traces carefully over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand, and Eddie almost falls asleep again.

“What changed your mind?” Eddie opens his eyes and Buck’s looking down at him now, an intense curiosity in his eyes, like he was just cycling through everything he knows about Eddie trying to figure out what made him believe in love again.

Knowing Buck, he probably was.

Eddie’s happy to save him the trouble. “I got shot,” he says simply, and Buck’s hand finally stills. Eddie reaches up, cupping Buck’s cheek, relishing in the way he automatically leans into his palm.

“I got shot,” he says again, “and you saved me, in every way you possibly could.”

It’s true — it wasn’t the first time a bullet had found a path through him, or even the first time he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. But as he lay there in the street, hot asphalt underneath him, weaker by the second, the only things running through his head were Chris and Buck and ChrisandBuck, and his only regret was that Buck didn’t know — about his guardianship of Chris, about how he made Eddie feel something like hopeful for the first time in years, any of it.

As his vision blacked out, Buck’s face streaked with blood and panic was the last thing he saw, and he vowed to make sure Buck knew everything if he made it out of this.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy.

After he woke up, with Buck’s name on his lips but Ana’s hand in his, everything became a waiting game.

He waited for Buck to show up at the hospital, out of breath but still so dazzling, his very presence making Eddie feel like he could run a marathon right then.

He waited for them to finally be alone so they could talk, but only got through telling him about the guardianship before Buck got a text from Taylor that made him smile so softly the rest of Eddie’s speech died in his throat.

He waited to break it off with Ana long enough that he didn’t seem like a jackass, waited as Buck and Taylor flew higher and higher before crashing, waited for days and weeks and months, waited, waited, waited.

But it didn’t hurt. All that time, it wasn’t excruciating, it didn't feel like a waste, because he knew from the minute he woke up that he was waiting for something. He could feel the anticipation burning up inside him, and it wasn’t going to be for nothing this time.

Finally, finally, just as naturally as they had fallen into each other’s lives the first time, they fell together again — in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, empty beer bottles and raw, unfiltered words between them, reliving the day they hadn’t been able to talk to each other about for the past nine months. Eddie’s hands shook and Buck took them in his and Eddie knew this was his moment.

He looked Buck dead in the eye and said, “You’re the reason I’m sitting here right now, and I’m in love with you.”

The evening air crackled in the silence, and neither of them moved. Eddie was pretty sure even his blood had stopped flowing as he waited, until suddenly everything snapped.

Suddenly they were both leaning in, suddenly they were kissing and whispering I love yous soft and desperate across each other’s skin.

Suddenly everything began.

He shakes his head a bit as he comes back to the present. Buck doesn’t say anything this time, just smiles and kisses the center of Eddie’s palm where it’s still resting on his cheek, tangles their fingers together again before placing them back on Eddie’s chest.

“You saved me too, you know,” Buck says quietly. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, but still, you did. You always do.”

“Always will,” Eddie says, because it’s true, and the easiest promise he’s ever made. Buck is his hope, his light in the dark, every other cheesy cliche, and Eddie will work for the rest of his life to make sure Buck feels safe and loved. It’s the least he could do for all that Buck has given him.

They lapse back into quiet, enjoying the sounds of the park and their family, and Eddie feels something he's been too afraid to name until now, a holdout from years of guarding himself.

He’s happy. Truly, with no caveats or strings attached, unbelievably happy.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #IT'S MY WIFE'S BDAY ALL THE EDDIE EMOTIONS FOR HER #ficcery

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mellowswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Desperate

pairing || Javier Peña x fem!Reader

summary || It’s been far too long, and you both need to let off some steam.

word count || 6,219

warnings || !!SMUT!! (unsafe sex, dom/sub vibes, innocence kink, fingering, p in v sex, dom!Javier, slight mocking/degradation, overstimulation, some spanking, multiple orgasms, creampie, “beg for it”, egregious use of ‘princesa’ and ‘good girl’ bc I’m a glutton, Javi loves feeling powerful okay), ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION

a/n || I’m amazed at how long this took, but I wanted this to be perfect. I hope my fellow Javi hoes enjoy

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

It had been weeks since you were able to go out with Javier and spend the night drinking and having a good time. You didn’t blame him, of course. Work was busy for the both of you and you had barely seen each other outside of curling up in bed together at the end of the day. It wasn’t something you had expected, the first time he wrapped his arms around you in bed and fell right asleep. Falling asleep together without at least one round of exhausting sex was unheard of - until it wasn’t. Until it was a rarity for you to fall asleep alone, sex or no sex, and you were craving the feeling of his breath at you neck just as much as you were craving the feeling of his hand sliding under the hem of your underwear. Neither of you said anything about it, too afraid to break the delicate trance of happiness that had enveloped your lives.

Steve had insisted for Javier to bring you to the club with him and Connie, worried that if everyone didn’t let off some steam soon, they would end up at each other’s throats. Steve wasn’t wrong, either. As suddenly and surprisingly sweet the last few weeks had been, all work and no play left Javi a very pent up man, so you accepted enthusiastically when he called you before leaving the office. You were a whirlwind in your apartment as you tried to beat the clock to get ready before your lover arrived, clothes yanked from their neatly organized places as you searched for a very specific dress. One you knew would make Javier lose his mind.

There was no knock at your door when Javi arrived. He simply walked in, something he had done since the very beginning of your little...whatever the hell this was. It was something he loved about you, that you left the door unlocked when you knew he would be on his way. So trusting in him. At first it had made him beyond nervous. What if someone managed to get there before he did, had the luck to try your door one of the few times it wasn’t secure? Why the fuck did you trust him so much? But over time, the worries melted into something soft and appreciative that warmed his chest and scared him even more.

There really was no winning with Javier sometimes.

But he couldn’t even keep that train of thought when he pushed your bedroom door open and saw you bent over to dig through the bottom drawer of your dresser, only in a bra and pair of panties that made his mouth water. So much bare skin, all for him to look at and greedily touch however he wanted. The surprised gasp you gave when Javier’s hand slid down your lower back to grab at the globe of your ass made him smirk, even when you spun around and smacked at his chest with a playful glare.

“God, Javi! You’re lucky I didn’t punch you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed up on your tiptoes to kiss him, grinning when he yanked you closer to bring you firmly against his chest. He watched as the momentary fear of his abrupt arrival melted away into something soft and happy, and it tugged at his chest. “I’ll be ready in just a second, okay?”

Javi hummed at you in acknowledgement but didn’t let go until you squirmed out of his grip and ushered him out the bedroom door. He would never admit it, but he pouted in the living room while he waited for you. He wanted to watch you get dressed. There really wasn’t a better sight than watching you shimmy into a pair of ridiculously tight jeans.

Watching you emerge from your room in a tight black dress was a close fuckin’ second, though. The muscle in his jaw ticked, his teeth clenched, and to anyone else he probably looked pissed. You knew him too well, though. He was just trying to convince himself not to tear it off of you and fuck you right on the floor in the living room. The harsh exhale that left him when you teasingly beckoned him to follow you towards your door told you that you were in for a long night.

Javier kept at least one hand on you the entire time - through the cab ride, as you waited at the bar for your drinks, even when you slid into a booth with Connie and Steve. It was grounding for the both of you. Javier made you feel safe, just the simplicity of a hand on your thigh or an arm draped over your shoulder. The feeling of your skin helped Javier stay in the moment, kept him from drifting into the mindset of Agent Peña, who would be beyond on edge with all of the people and noise.

“One more shot, and I bet you’ll be able to convince him to dance with you.” Connie grinned conspiratorially, nodding to where Javi was making his way through the crowd with a tray of shots.

“Oh, I could get him to dance with me stone cold sober. Doesn’t take much convincing either.” You said with a small wink and Connie laughed at the way Steve crinkled his nose.

“Yeah, I do not need to see that.” Steve stood and offered Connie his hand with a wag of his eyebrows, leaving you at the table just as Javi set down the drinks. He watched them disappear onto the dancefloor before turning those pretty eyes on you.

“The hell was that about?” Javi grumbled as he handed you one of the shot glasses. He was about to take his own when you leaned forward to speak into his ear, balancing yourself with a hand against his chest.

“They didn’t want to see me all over you.” You spoke low, letting a teasing lilt take over your tone, before you took your shot and sighed harshly at the burn of whiskey. Javi froze in front of you, that hungry glint in his eyes that you absolutely adored, shot glass still hovering at his lips. “Gonna take your shot before or after you get your hands on me?”

The whiskey was tipped back into his mouth before he slammed the glass onto the table so hard you worried he had broken it. You didn’t get the chance to see if he actually did before Javier dragged you away from the table and the only thing you could think about were those strong hands at your waist.

Dancing with Javier always left you breathless. Not from the actual dancing, but from him. The man could make the entire universe shrink to just him and the way he moved against you, the sway of his hips and ease with which he moved your body however he wanted. It was moments like these that reminded you exactly who it was you were messing with. Javier Peña could take whatever he wanted from you. He would only do that if you explicitly told him to, of course, but feeling the flex of his biceps as he curled his arms around your body, the strength in his hands as he grabbed a handful of your ass… it left you yearning.

Anticipation danced down your spine with every graze of his skin against yours, every sharp bite he gave to your neck and shoulders, every grind of his hips against your ass. You turned to face him, winding your arms around his neck to drag him down close enough to almost kiss him. He was expecting you to, you could tell by the way his lips parted and the slight pout of his bottom lip when you didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead, you pressed your forehead to his and drank him in; his eyes were hooded, glazed slightly with alcohol and lust, his curls slightly damp with sweat, chest rolling with each breath. The top buttons of his dress shirt were undone and mischief danced through your veins when you leaned down to press a kiss to his neck and then bite his collarbone just a smidge harder than necessary.

Javi hissed and yanked you back with a fist wrapped in your hair - not exactly something you weren’t used to from your lover. His teeth were bared slightly as he took in your prone form. There was nothing he loved more than seeing you so… obedient for him, even when you were using that mouth of yours in ways he didn’t approve of. He tutted at you, slowly turning your head from side to side as if he was amused by his control over you.

“Careful, princesa.” Javi rasped in your ear. The low tone of his voice made you want to melt right there on the filthy club floor. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

He was expecting a retort, something eloquent and teasing perhaps. You knew this, somewhere in the back of your mind, but all you could think about was the controlling grip he had against your head. Heat and tension began coiling tighter in your belly and any intent to be a tease fell away into need.

“Please,” It came out on an airy exhale, barely audible over the music and raucous sounds of partying. Your lover tilted his head at you, eyebrows drawn together in confusion as if he didn’t understand you, so you licked your lips and tried again. “Javi, please.”

“You’ll be a good girl for me tonight, hm?” Javi’s eyes went slightly darker when you nodded at him and he let go of your hair, smoothing his palm over the back of your head. “I’ll tell Murphy we’re leaving. Stay right here.”

With a kiss to your forehead, Javier stepped away from you and disappeared to find his partner and it was as if the world snapped back into place. His presence was all consuming and the moment he would leave it was like the rest of the universe came back into existence, still fuzzy around the edges from his intensity. Having all of that energy focused on you? It was better than any alcohol, any drug.

The entire cab ride to Javier’s apartment was tense and you wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind, rip off your seatbelt, and climb into Javier’s lap, but the firm hand on your thigh kept you in place. You almost did exactly that when he let go, but the sight of those talented fingers rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt had your brain short-circuiting. The combination of already being tipsy and Javi’s innate ability to make you horny beyond reason left you dizzy. Javi smirked at the way your lips parted as he slowly exposed his forearms but the teasing words at the tip of his tongue disappeared at the gentle way you touched his inner wrist. Your fingers trailed up into his palm, so soft that it almost tickled, and then flipped his hand in yours to feel the ridges of his knuckles and tendons. So fucking reverent when you looked at him. It lit a fire in his veins.

“You have nice hands.” You said it out of nowhere and Javi frowned, about to ask you what the hell that even meant, but the cab lurched to a stop outside his apartment building. The fire in your eyes returned as if it had never left - it was enough to have him tossing the cabbie his money and dragging you along with him.

A loud bang echoed through his apartment when Javier burst through the door, rushing in backwards just far enough to get the door closed and shove you against it. The air was forced out of you at the impact, but it wasn’t as if you could really catch your breath with his mouth fused against yours to begin with. Javier tapped your thighs and you automatically hopped up, letting him hitch your thighs around his waist and brace your weight against the door. The hard edges of the door bit into your back, sure to leave red marks that Javi would marvel at once the need to bury into each other was sated.

“This...fucking dress.” Javier growled against your lips before he leaned away just enough to glare down at your cleavage and curves as if he were infuriated. You knew better, knew that the heat in his glare was hunger, not anger. His hand groped and massaged at your thighs and ass with a fervor that made you feel beyond desired - every touch was desperate, like he would implode without it. “Get your ass upstairs. I want you on the bed by the time I get up there.”

You shuddered in anticipation as he set you down on your feet, the sharp smack he gave your thigh ushering you towards his bedroom. Before you rounded the corner, Javi called out your name and when you turned to look at him… the man always looked handsome, but in the low light, sleeves rolled up, shirt half unbuttoned and untucked from his slacks, the bulge of his cock against his zipper… he was magnificent.

“Naked.”

You smirked. “Yes, sir.”

You fled to his room before Javier could storm over and snatch you up. That pert little phrase always seemed to make him rougher, needier, and that was just what you were craving from him. You stripped as you went, leaving your heels and dress in the hallway and dropping your lacy underwear right in front of the door. Wasting no time, you crawled up into the center of his bed, tucking your legs off to the side and propping yourself up with one arm. A simple way to pose yourself, accentuating the curve of your hips. Chills washed over your skin in the cool air, but you would be warmed up soon enough. Javi wouldn’t be able to resist such a pretty display for him. Down the hall, you saw the light flick on in the bathroom and could hear the sound of the faucet running, and you couldn’t help but smile knowing that even in his tipsy state, he was washing his hands before he came to fuck you within an inch of your life.

He meandered through the hallway, feigning disinterest as he looked down at the lace at his feet before meeting your eyes, one eyebrow raised. It was the sweet smile you gave him that made him break, the tiniest upward curve to his lips as he made his way to you. Javi intended to kiss you, to have a full on teenage makeout session before he even began exploring the familiarity of your body. It was one of his favorite things after all - the way you would grind against him, the sweet sounds he pulled from your body, the spit-slick and slightly swollen lips - but when he trailed the back of his fingers down your calf, something in him snapped.

A surprised laugh echoed through the bedroom when Javier yanked you onto your back and pulled you right to the edge of the bed, using the hand at your ankle to spread your legs wide for him. Bashfulness bloomed on your face at the sudden exposure, and paired with the way Javier’s sharp gaze watched your every move, every rise and fall of your chest, every tiny twitch of your hips, you felt the heady rush of vulnerability and trust that you could only ever get from Javi.

“Don’t pretend to be shy.” Javier muttered as he fixed his gaze on your core, his nostrils flaring as he took in just how wet and swollen you were for him. All for him. His thumb rubbed at your inner thigh, trailing closer and closer to the one place you needed him to touch, excitement dancing along your skin, and he smirked at the needy cant of your hips. “We both know you want this…”

A plea was at the tip of your tongue, ready to tempt him into giving you what you want, but it was all for naught the moment he slid his fingers through your cunt to tease at your clit. Your eyes slammed shut the moment you felt those calloused fingertips zero in and start to rub in slow circles, your back arching as you gasped out Javi’s name.

“Good girl,” Javier immediately rewarded you by sliding a finger into your wet cunt, reveling in the low whine it drew from you. His other hand palmed your breast possessively, talented fingers tweaking your nipple until you cried out louder for him, a hot shock of pride rocketing through Javi’s chest. You always sound so pretty for him. He wasted no time in setting a steady rhythm, curling his finger on each thrust just to watch the way your jaw dropped open and eyebrows furrowed. You always look so pretty for him, too.

Javier leaned over you to study your face as he used his thumb to rub your clit in time with the strokes he laid into that one spot that made you see stars behind your eyelids, and hell, he needed to see those eyes. You listened so perfectly for him when he told you to open your eyes, his voice low and commanding in that timbre that made you want to spend the rest of your life with him between your thighs. They almost fluttered shut again as Javier slid a second finger in next to the first and his other hand left your breast to grab your jaw in an almost painful grip, stopping the pleasurable roll of his fingers inside of you.

“Keep those pretty eyes open for me, hermosa.” Javi didn’t move again until you nodded as much as you could under his hand, but when he did, it wasn’t the gentle, rhythmic press from before. No, he fucked you with his fingers, curling his fingertips into your g-spot ruthlessly, and fuck, combined with the roll of his thumb over your clit, you were keening underneath him.

Tension tightened low in your belly, euphoria threatening to spill over your entire body and leave you shimmering in its aftermath, and fuck, wait, why was he slowing down?! Your disgruntled whining was muffled by his hand and you were so tempted to reach down between your legs and finish yourself off, but a move like that would leave you with an ass covered in red marks and trembling for release for hours. It was a little game Javi loved to play when he was feeling like a cocky little shit, but he had done this enough times for you to know how to get what you wanted from him. So instead, you gripped his wrist gently and repositioned his hand so you could draw his fingers into your mouth.

Curses muttered in Spanish were the only response you got, Javi’s dark eyes transfixed on the way you sucked his fingers while still giving him those sweet, innocent eyes. You never looked at anyone the way you looked at him - Javi spent enough time around you to know as much, and he fucking loved it. He felt special, important. Needed. There was nothing prettier than the sight of you writhing and needy beneath him.

He met each roll of your hips with steady thrusts, those talented hands wringing out gasps around his fingers. Never had you met a man who could bring you to the edge with a good finger fucking and just a few filthy praises, but then again, there were no men like Javier Peña, period. Your back arched, pressing you closer to your lover, your hand gripped his wrist tighter, the other tearing at the sheets. He was too fucking good at this, was going to send you over the edge before you could even get in a deep enough breath to warn him. It came out slurred, muddled around his fingers, a steady stream of ‘please, please, please,’ that made Javier groan low in his chest.

“Go on, baby. Cum for me, cum on my fingers.” was growled into your ear, followed by the sharp drag of teeth along your pulse and you shattered beneath him. The tension snapped and you couldn’t even moan, couldn’t cry out under the assault of his fingers riding you through your orgasm and holy fucking shit, there was no way this wouldn’t be the death of you.

Death by orgasm.

Put that on your gravestone.

Coming down from your high felt like being underwater, like the entire world was suspended around you, muffled and not entirely real. It was the drag of Javier’s fingertips up the soft flesh of your stomach, leaving a wet trail to cool on your skin, and the gentle roll of your nipple between his fingers that pulled you towards clarity. Javi’s voice was almost too low to hear over the aftermath of pleasure rushing through your ears as he murmured praise into your sweat-slick skin. He was still stood at the edge of the bed, chest heaving with each harsh breath as he watched you bask in the orgasm his talented fingers drew from you.

You sat up slowly, perched on the edge of the bed with Javier stood between between your open thighs - right where he belonged. The innocence of the gentle smile you gave him, the way your bottom lip was caught between your teeth… it made him want to tear you apart, break you down to your most base state and watch you try to find yourself all over again. The hand on your thigh squeezed lightly when you cupped the tent in his slacks, immediately followed by a hiss through clenched teeth at the expert roll of your wrist.

“Go on,” Javier was no less commanding when his voice was low and raspy. If anything it made you even more compelled to listen to him, to hang off of his every word and follow them to the letter just for the opportunity of being called his good girl again. That’s why you undid the button of his pants with deft fingers, biting back a groan at the sight of his cock bobbing free of its confines to stand proud against his belly, and you leaned forward to lick the slick beading at the tip. Your efforts to please him with your mouth were thwarted by a harsh pull at your hair and you gasped at the sudden pain, ready to whine and beg for him to fuck your mouth without holding back. It was the steeled resolve in his eyes that shut you up. “Later. Wanna bury myself in this pretty cunt.”

The filthiness of his words made you smirk as you got onto your knees and lowered your upper body to be flush with the sheets. If there was one position that made Javi go wild, it was this - the sight of you baring yourself to him, your pussy glistening in the low light, hips swaying slightly as if you were trying to lure him in…

A sharp smack against your ass made you jump in surprise, your surprised gasp morphing into a melodic, excited giggle that had a thrill shivering up Javier’s spine. You were so good to him. So good for him. Javier yanked his pants all the way down and kicked them away as if their very existence in that moment was an insult before he kneeled on the bed, pride flashing through his chest in a searing rush when you whined high in your throat, the tiny sound full of anticipation. He notched the head of his cock right at your entrance, rubbing the sensitive skin there for a heartbeat before thrusting into your wet heat.

Javier filled you in one sure, seemingly unending push forward that made you arch your back even more just to try to fit him, not stopping until his hips were pressed flush against your ass. The fluttering of your cunt around him was always overwhelming from the second he fucked into you, both of your bodies desperate to adjust to the intensity. Javi grinded down against you, teeth clenching at the sweet, intoxicated sounds he pulled from your body.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Javier soothed, his tone just barely teasing as he slid one hand over your hip in circles. “You know you can take it.”

You could only nod in response, your voice stolen by the stretch of his cock. Tremors were already beginning in your thighs from the sheer fullness but that first slow drag as he pulled back to slam into you had your entire body trembling. It was almost too much but somehow not enough all at once, your body keening for more but quivering at the very thought. Javi set about a pace that had your ass juggling with every thrust, shoving you further into the sheets and leaving you to writhe beneath his commanding grip.

The words you tried to get out fizzled out as quickly as they formed. They broke off in the middle and disappeared into the soft cotton you pressed your face further into, almost embarrassed by the sudden fleetingness of your ability to think properly. It was a talent seemingly only possessed by Javier. The grip on your hips where he used you as counterweight to thrust into you that would surely leave bruises, the bite of his short fingernails into the soft skin of your waist and thighs, the way he would grind down against your g-spot until you cried out for him… it was a spell only he could entangle you in.

Javier wasn’t any better. Muddled groans and praise fell from his lips like honey, dripped through you in a sweet, scorching reminder that this was you. You made him lose his mind, made that usually direct and to the point sense of control slip away into something base, instinctual, and absolutely fucking filthy. The thought alone would have been enough to have you writhing and desperate for another orgasm at those talented hands, but combined with the tight grip he had on your body and the eagerness in every thrust had you ready to beg.

And he could tell.

You were yanked up before you could even realize what was happening, the entire world spinning and losing meaning as he guided you up onto your knees. Your head fell back against his shoulder at the hot press of his chest to your back and fuck, Javier loved it. You were his, all for him, and the way you went absolutely limp at the rough way he pleasured you. He braced his forearm just beneath your breasts, the other hand kept you steady at your hip, and he fucked you. Reveled in the breathy moans that were better than any music to have blessed the earth. Drew his hips back just to snap them against you, pounded you with his cock just to hear the way it made you mewl for him. Gritted his teeth against the urge to spill himself right in the tightness of your cunt right then and there.

“Beg for it.” He commanded, the hand at your hip trailing down to tease at the curls above your sex, so close to giving you want you wanted. You keened against him, hips undulating in stuttered, needy rolls, still unable to force your lips to form a coherent thought. “Go on, princesa. Beg.”

“P-please, I… oh, fuck, please!” Your voice was barely recognizable, followed by a whine when Javier’s pace slowed.

“Please what?” Javier growled into your ear. You shuddered against him, a flash of annoyance at his little game making you reach behind you and bury your hand in his hair just a bit harsher than necessary. The delight you drew from the hiss that followed was short-lived. Javier bit you, that little shit, right on your shoulder in his own form of delicious revenge, the pleasure and pain sparking and morphing together in a heady haze.

“Fuck, please let me cum!” You bit out and fucking finally, Javier dipped his hand lower to swipe two fingers over your swollen clit in fast circles. A choked gasp was all you could manage, your once in tandem thrusts stuttering against the surety in which Javi fucked you.

The tension bordered on too much, hovered in that tricky space between pain and pleasure, your body still sensitive with your first orgasm. You lost yourself in the intensity of it all, the intensity of Javier’s fingers on your clit, of his dick buried inside of you as deep as he could go, of his teeth and tongue working over your neck and shoulder, and you broke. Your body went rigid against him, your orgasm ripping through your entire body like a tidal wave, crashing into you and tearing you apart.

The contrast between the way Javier gently settled you onto your back beneath him versus how hard he thrust back into you would’ve been funny if you hadn’t just came so hard your vision blacked out. This was his favorite way to look at you - eyes glazed over, mouth hung open, breasts jiggling with every push of his cock in your tight little cunt. He feels like a fucking god like this. Lording over you, controlling your body, your pleasure, your every move. Using you for his own release. Fucking you like he didn’t give a shit about you. And you just took it, moaned and whined and cried his name so beautifully, tried feebly to meet his thrusts despite being overstimulated and string out on his dick.

Something dark lurked in the back of Javier’s mind. You never faltered; you just gave and gave to him so freely. He was not a greedy man by nature, but you brought out something primal in him. The more you gave, the more he took. He wanted to see you writhing underneath him, begging him to stop, giving him those pretty wide eyes filled with tears and desperation. So he reached between your bodies and slipped his thumb over your clit.

You lurched forward, your entire body tensing and clenching, and Javier could have came right there at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock. The haziness in your eyes sharpened into clarity, an almost fearful glint taking over them that only fueled Javi’s depravity. He couldn’t see them for long. The moment he began rolling your clit under his thumb, your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Javier bared his teeth at the sight.

“Javi,” You whimpered, grasping at his forearm. “I can’t.”

“You can.” The low timbre of Javier’s voice is what makes you finally focus on him and fuck, he looks so good like this - jaw clenched, the dark fire burning in his eyes ready to consume you whole. The very air about him shimmered with an imposing sense of authority. He snapped his hips against you, slow but deep and harsh, his cock shoving against your cervix almost too hard. “You can and you fucking will.”

Your thighs hitched further up Javier’s waist as you squirmed under the dual assault of his cock stretching you open, fucking you full, and his thumb torturing your already exhausted clit. He grabbed your jaw, surprisingly gentle given the circumstances, and steadied your lolling head.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Open your eyes.” Javi whispered, his voice strained with the effort. There was concern in those pretty brown eyes underneath the need. “Good girl. You remember your safe word, right?”

You nodded rapidly, your breath hitching with each sharp thrust. Javier stared down at you expectantly as if he were waiting for you to give in - but since when were you to turn down an orgasm at the hands of one Javier Peña? You drew your bottom lip between your teeth and the grip on his wrist tightened, your hips slowly rolling in time with his own.

“Make me cum, Javi.”

For half a second, Javier froze, his usually sharp and quick mind falling completely blank, and then something in him breaks. A growl ripped out of his chest and Javier had to bury his face in your neck. If he kept looking at your pretty face contorted in pleasure and pain, he would’ve been done for. Every sensation threatened to be the one that threw you over the edge. The rumble of his chest with each moan, the slick slide of his cock as he fucked you, the sharpness of his teeth against your neck, the magnificent torture of his fingers rolling your clit.

Your third orgasm was shorter than the others, but no less intense. The entire world collapsed in on itself, could have imploded around you and you couldn’t have noticed, not with the way Javier pulled another orgasm from your reluctant, exhausted body. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you sunk down into that pleasant, hazy headspace and that was when Javi picked up his pace. It was devastating, your nails digging into his skin hard enough to make him hiss.

He ripped his hand away from your cunt and braced it on your hip as he chased his release in your body. It’s the exhausted pleas you whisper into his ear that has him finishing, burying himself to the hilt and filling you with his cum. Javier collapsed into you, chest to chest, his cock slowly softening inside of you. It took him a moment to realize that you were humming quietly. There was no particular melody, just happy, low humming like the purr of a content cat.

In those moments after, no matter how sore or tired you were, you felt alive, weightless. Like there was nothing else in the universe besides Javier’s weight pressing you into his mattress and the slick feeling of his cum leaking out around his cock. With a deep breath, Javier propped himself up on his elbow to look at you, subtly checking you over to make sure you were okay. The lazy smile you gave him made him grin at you, a light and undeniable happiness settling over him.

He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, settling on his side with his head propped against his fist, and tilted your head towards him to get a good look at that pretty face - eyes half-lidded, lips red and kiss swollen, your skin sweaty and covered in his marks. The pull to kiss you was magnetic, undeniable. It was gentle, almost chaste if he hadn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life.

You absentmindedly trailed your fingers over the ridges in his spine, a simple touch that he had received time and time again from so many lovers that somehow felt like a completely new experience when it came from you. It made him feel loved, special. Safe.

And then it hit him, almost as hard and breathtaking as the time he caught a bullet in his vest right over his ribs, that he didn’t just love things about you. He didn’t just love the way you left your door unlocked for him. He didn’t just love the way you smiled at him when you would catch his eye after being apart. He didn’t just love the way you seemed to only have eyes for him. He didn’t just love the way you laughed at Steve’s antics, or the way the club lights danced in your eyes, or the way you anticipated his every move, every kiss, every thrust, every, every, every…

Javier Pena loved you.

All of those pieces and a thousand more that made you who you are. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, because Javier Pena didn’t do love, but how could he help himself when you were… well, you. So filthy and sweet and fierce all wrapped up into one beautiful woman, all for him. All his. Staring up at him with those bright, happy eyes as if there wasn’t a place in the world you would rather be than in his bed.

And he was terrified. Of losing you, of scaring you off. Terrified that he could never be worthy of having a person like you. But more than that, he felt lucky. He felt loved and appreciated and cared for, and it was more intoxicating than the whiskey he downed at the club hours earlier.

“I love you.” It was barely above a whisper, his voice still rough, and his heart pounded in his chest so loud he was certain you could hear it. A small, insecure part of him expected you to be disgusted, or to laugh in his face at the very idea, but it was buried under the way you lit up for him even more and reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers rubbing through the stubble he had forgotten to take care of that morning.

“I know.” You whispered. Javi scoffed and rolled his eyes at you, but you could see the relief and affection in his eyes when you didn’t outright reject him. He was easier to read than he realized. “I love you, too.”

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