#carrie // what i want is to swallow my own form of mercy . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

apocalypticgargoyle · 4 years ago

Note

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @little-gremlin-in-the-walls @tinyegg @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @rat-poisin @alm334 @cdizzlevalntyne @phsychopathetic @froggerrrr @robinslie @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity

#punk!georgenotfound #punk!george #punk!gnf #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound au #georgenotfound smut #gnf x y/n #gnf smut #gnf x reader #gnf imagine #mcyt x you #mcyt au #mcyt x y/n #mcyt smut

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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years ago

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Maybe hawks with fem UA student whose interning and spending some “alone time” with him in his office? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Pairing: Hawks x Female Reader

Notes: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) This is my first one for him so go easy on me, nonnie. Hehe.

Content warnings: Feathers (yay), pretty blond men (Hawks), teacher x student relationship, underage depending on your local laws (not aged up, I ain’t no pussy)

Part Two-ish

You know this isn’t right. You shouldn’t be doing this with someone older than you, your instructor of all people. You signed that internship form in hopes of learning from a professional. Not for this.

Though, you suppose you are learning something if you look at it technically. Like how the pads of your feet are more sensitive and erogenous than you originally believed. Like how much you liked having feathers drawing along your body. How much you’re starting to develop a thing for men with blond hair the longer you spend with him. And besides, it’s not like he’s that much older than you.

“What’s really six years in the grand scheme of it,” he told you before.

At first, you were a bit nervous, a bit hesitant when he brought up your glazed-over staring. Now, you couldn’t find a reason to disagree, especially when he’s making your body feel like it’s floating on water.

“Takami-sensei,” you sing, your voice smooth as silk with the moan he draws out of you.

Hawks chuckles at you. The laugh of an older man is warm and inviting, practically melting you into butter each time he does it. “You’re so sensitive, my little chickadee.”

“It feels so good,” you explain dreamily. “So soft…”

“I’m glad you like them.”

The feather fluttering against your clit is a delicate touch, almost tickling as the plumage becomes drenched and heavy with your cum, but it also feels so much better than the rough circles and clumsy strokes you’d probably given yourself when you got home.

Your teacher holds your legs open to keep you splayed before him on top of the short office table. One gloved hand presses against your inner thigh and the other grasps your foot, pushing it up higher as he massages the arch.

You’re completely at the mercy of him. He hadn’t even really touched you. Everything done to you was the work of those beautiful feathers of his. Ever since you met him, you’ve wanted to run your fingers through the rose-colored plumage. Now, the same rippled, fluttery edges are working at the tips of your nipples, occasionally warping between soft and harder to tease you. Although pleasurable, you were starting to feel so incredibly empty after minutes of his teasing. Your dripping cunt aching and closing around nothing as you throb with want. You didn’t want to come just from feather-light touches again, to have your pussy sorely missing something to grip. You didn’t care about the fact this was your teacher anymore. You wanted everything.

“Sensei, please, please touch me.”

“You’ve had a change of heart already?” he asks, his voice carrying a teasing, playful laugh with it.

“Yes, please, I need something, anything please,” you beg, meeting his eyes with your own watery ones as he continues to tease your overstimulated person. “I-I need you inside me.”

Hawks smiles, moves the feather out the way. “Come on now, you don’t have to beg. Ask and ye shall receive, my darling student.” You gulp, the lump in your throat sticking before finally swallowing down when you see him tug off a glove with his teeth before finally cupping your pussy with his bare hand.

You’re already releasing a sigh before he can even dip his fingertips past your soaking outer lips. He sinks a single finger inside you, licking his lips at the way your cunt so readily squeezes around it. “My precious student is more excited than I thought,” he thinks out loud, making your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll have to make sure to take full responsibility,” he says, testing your limits with an experimental pump of his finger.

When you whine, a soft yes leaving your pleading lips, he slides in another. Then, he sets to work filling and stretching you open. Hawks is slower than you’re accustomed to, but oh so precise, targeting each spot that makes you whimper and tense even the slightest. His name is a drawl on your lips, a song you can’t stop singing as your head tilts back.

His palm presses tighter to your soft mound, grinding and stroking your clit as he thrusts thick fingers deeper inside you, curling them against your walls and pushing inwards until your sweet little cunt couldn’t take anymore. Every stroke of his busy fingers rotating inside of you has you reaching higher and higher heights. Squelches fill the room due to the overwhelming amount of cum seeping from you. You didn’t think it could get any better until he presses his warm mouth to your engorged clit. The older man zeroes in on the tiny bead, sending your nerves into overdrive as his stubble tickles against your skin.

“Ah, f-fuck, sensei, sensei, I can’t-“ you sob as he decides to have writing practice over the nub, spelling his name along you-his full name, not hero. “Gonna-“ you breathe out, unable to finish as his fingers jam upwards, triggering a flood of cum into his waiting mouth. He doesn’t stop there. He keeps the flat of his tongue against you, cleaning every layer of sticky juices you could to provide him.

Satisfied, he moans, and you shudder as the vibrations buzz against your cunt. His voice is drawn and muffled, but you can barely make out what he says, “You’re so sweet, baby.”

And he proves that he’s telling the truth by drinking every drop from you before pulling away with a contented smirk and a lick of the lips.

You’re still panting, quickly crashing back down as your chest heaves and your tensing eases. Your hazy eyes glance over him, falling on the tent straining in his pants for you. You reach out, grasping onto his belt. You’re exhausted but…

“Takami-sensei, I wan’ more,” you tell him, asking for his help as a good student should.

“Anything for you,” he readily agrees. You drop your hand to his crotch, inexperiencedly stroking him as he goes to undo his buckle.

Just then, you’re both interrupted by the swinging of the door exposing your little rendezvous. You’ve never sobered up so quickly from your lust, but you guess seeing your classmate, staring at you with wide eyes and unable to even sputter an apology, would do that to anyone.

Ever unnerved, Hawks doesn’t seem bothered by it, not even willing to hide the fact that he was about to fuck his student in his office.

Instead, he lays on that classic smile and says something that leaves your heart palpitating.

“Ah, Tokoyami-kun, perfect timing. How’d you like to join us for some private training—that’s okay with you, right, chickadee?”

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #hawks smut #mha x reader #notsfw #adelssmut

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ap-kinda-lit · 3 years ago

Text

Not With My Daughter!

Rating: T Pairing: Kawasara mainly, with a dash of Sasusaku too Summary: Sasuke sees something that doesn't please him one bit and he faces a realization that is much less palatable for him

Was requested to do a fic where Sasuke or Sakura catches Kawaki and Sarada a while back, but I finally did it! Here y’all go!

For the hundredth time that evening, Sasuke glanced at the clock. It was twelve past eight now. He grimaced. They should've been home by now... The Shadow Hokage anxiously drummed his fingers on his chair's arm. Sarada had left hours ago to train with her new teammate, the boy that Naruto had taken in. Kawaki, he thinks his name was? It didn't really matter right now. All that mattered to the Uchiha patriarch was that it was past Sarada's curfew and she wasn't home. Sasuke kicked himself. He never should've let her go off with that boy. He didn't trust him. This 'Kawaki' was new to the village, little was known about him, he had several incidents of trying to escape, causing chaos, and lashing out violently...and he was getting too close to Sasuke's peanut. Sasuke huffed and stood up from his seat. He couldn't take it anymore. He was not going to wait around while his baby girl was who-knows-where doing who-knows-what with a boy he barely knew. He was grabbing his cloak and house key when Sakura walked in. "Anata, where are you going? Is something wrong?" she asked. "No, everything is...fine." he was slow to finish his sentence. Sakura gave her husband a look and sighed. "Anata, you're not going to hunt down Sarada and Kawaki, are you?" she spoke with exasperation. "...perhaps..." Sasuke mumbled. "Sasuke-kun, I know they're late, but it's not late enough for you to go and terrorize the village looking for them." Sasuke grumbled something in disagreement. He draped his cloak around his shoulders and buttoned it, then turned towards the doorway. "Anata, at least leave your katana!" Sakura shouted after him, but Sasuke did not heed. He marched to the door, opened it and- Sasuke froze on the spot. He had seen a lot of terrible things in his line of work, but none compared to what he was seeing at that very moment: right there before him was Sarada (his sweet, innocent little girl) with her arms wrapped around the shoulders of none other than Kawaki as the two were locked in a simple but somewhat passionate liplock. Sasuke was first in shock which evolved into horror then, ultimately, an overwhelming and powerful rage. Sarada and Kawaki finally realized his presence and pulled apart from each other. "Papa!" Sarada squeaked in surprise. Sasuke's eye twitched. "Y-you..." he could barely speak through his all-consuming outrage. Kawaki said nothing and only stared back, looking alarmed. Sarada saw her father's Sharingan form and she quickly noticed his hand reaching for his katana. "Papa..." Sarada pleaded. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Sasuke's one-track focus was honed in on one thing and one thing only: the mohawked little bastard who had the audacity to put his nasty lips on his daughter. "You...prepare to die..." Sasuke growled out. "Anata!" "Papa!" Sakura and Sarada shrieks were lost in the ensuing clamor of Sasuke unsheathing his katana in a flash of electric light and Kawaki's arm morphing into a large shield to protect himself from the incoming blade which easily cut through. Kawaki leaped from the doorstep and hit the ground running from his attacker. Sarada and her mother could only stay back and watch as the family man pursued the poor young boy, attacking him blindly with rage. Sakura gave her daughter a nervous smile. "I'm sure Papa won't harm Kawaki...badly." she assured her. Sarada sighed.

+++++

Sasuke eventually returned home, disheveled but fine and not quite as furious as he was earlier. Sarada and her mother talked prior to his return and Sarada was forbidden from going out for the rest of the week as punishment for not being home on time. Sarada went to bed afterwards and Sakura was waiting for her husband when he came into their room upon his arrival home. Sakura was giving Sasuke a concerned but amused look as he changed clothes. "I'm not apologizing for tonight." he promptly said. "I didn't say anything." Sakura responded. "You were thinking it." "Not really." Sasuke finished getting dressed and climbed into bed next to his wife. Sakura shifted to cuddle her husband and he responded by leaning into her embrace. "You did overreact, don't you think?" Sakura murmured into his chest. "I don't think I did." his reply was flat and matter-of-fact. "Anata..." "He had no right. He kept her past her curfew and he...did that...in front of us, her parents." Sasuke's irritation was apparent in how he spat out his last sentence as if it was a morsel of the most disgusting food he had ever eaten. Sakura propped her head up on her hand to look at her husband's face. "Sarada and I talked and she told me that she kissed him." she pointed out. "Sakura, don't tell me that." Sasuke cringed in disgust. Sakura giggled. "Oh, anata, I know that this may be hard for you to hear but Sarada is a young woman now. She's very capable of doing things by her own accord, especially things that we might not like." Sakura explained. Sasuke said nothing. He felt his wife's hand rest over where his heart was and she gave him a meaningful look. She sighed and continued, "I don't like it any more than you do, but it's a simple fact of life. Our baby...isn't a baby anymore." Still, Sasuke said nothing. As just about always, Sakura was right. He admired how she was usually right, but at times like this he wished she could be wrong more often. He really wanted her to be wrong in this case, but no. She was spot on. Her and Sasuke's little girl wasn't so little anymore, whether he liked it or not. To him, it felt like it was just yesterday that he was carrying her on his shoulders as he took her around the woods and sitting on the ground of their home with her, playing with stuffed animals and her numerous toys and listening to her adorable baby babble. But now she was a lot bigger and walked on her own two feet, played with kunai and shuriken, and preferred the company of a mohawked punk over her father's. Melancholy and nostalgia built up in Sasuke and a lump formed in his throat. Sakura could tell right away what was going on in his mind. She nuzzled her head against his neck lovingly. "But it's not the end of the world. No matter how old she gets or who she's with, she's always gonna want her papa in her life." she said. Sasuke's silence clearly meant he took what his wife just said into consideration. "...okay." he said. Sakura smiled. She gave her husband one last kiss and they said their 'good nights'. With that, they fell asleep.

+++++++

A week later, when her punishment was lifted and she was free to go out, Sarada came bouncing down the stairs. "Mama, Kawaki and I are going to the training fields to practice with shuriken. Is that okay?" she asked Sakura. Sakura glanced at Sasuke, who was sitting in his armchair reading a newspaper. "It's alright with me. What about you, anata?" Sakura said. Both Sarada and Sakura looked to Sasuke, waiting for his answer. Sarada looked anxious about what he would say. Internally, Sasuke warred with himself. The overprotective part of him railed against its cage, decrying his daughter going anywhere with a young man who was that close with her, but to no avail. The Uchiha patriarch swallowed and said, "Fine by me." Sarada smiled. "Thank you, Papa." "Just be sure to be back by eight, okay?" Sasuke quickly reminded her. Sarada gave her father a peck on his temple. "I promise." she answered. After that, she gave her mother a 'good bye' and skipped away to see Kawaki. Sakura smiled at her husband. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" "Yes, it kind of was." Sasuke said. He sighed and added, "But I'll live." Sakura nodded at him. All was silent for a moment until Sasuke spoke again. "But if he tries anything with her when I'm around, I can't promise that I will be merciful with him." Sakura burst out laughing.

End

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cherri-cherri · 4 years ago

Text

× Little Flower ×

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Pairings - Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis - No one was allowed to touch you as you were his. Those who dared would suffer a fate worse than death...

Warnings - Possible Grammar Errors, Slight Gore, Swear Words

A/N - This fic here is pretty short but I wanted to write this after having a weird dream with flowers and Sukuna. I honestly have mixed feelings about this one but I hope you all enjoy! - ��

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"Speak, girl. Do you know why you stand here on trial here today?" A voice called out to you from above but you simply kept your head hanging down to stare at the stacks of dry wood pressed under your feet. Your body ached due to the countless bruises and cuts littering your skin and the tightness of the ropes cutting into your bound wrists weren't helping at all in the slightest.

"Y/N L/N, do you understand why you stand before us?" The voice repeated again, this time a rough hand grabbing ahold of your hair and gripping it tightly, forcing you to stare up at the man before you.

"Cat has your tongue? Well then, let me remind you that you were caught giving aid to the king of curses. No doubt spreading your legs for him like that harlot you are" his words only mirrored the disgusted look in his cold grey eyes, glaring down at you as his grip on your hair only tightened. Sad to think that you would be used to this knowing your uncle was not a kind or gentle man and yet his words only stung.

"...I did no such thing....He was hurt and I was trying to help, I was–" Letting out a yelp as your cheek burned from the slap your uncle gave you, you felt tears prickling your eyes as he leaned in closer.

"Liar!! Someone saw you with him, saw you hold him! It is obvious that your vile ways allowed him to take over your mind and possess you!" Yelling at the top of his lungs, you heard others around you cheering the man on as some even chimed in. So many hateful words, so many people who you believed to friends and family only for all of them to look at you with such disdain and anger. Tears began to form until your uncle released you and stepped away, "There is only one way to save your soul now before he swallows it whole. The flames will send you to the afterlife and maybe then, you will be saved."

Your heart dropped after hearing that. You were going to die, all because of giving a monster sanctuary, all because you tried to be kind. Men carrying large clay pots came to the stake you were bound to and then began splashing you with oil. Coughing as the liquid was poured ontop of your head, you heard the chanting of the people all around you, screaming and yelling for your death over and over again as your uncle came walking back towards you while holding up a lit torch.

This was the end. Your miserable life ending at such a horrible note, it made you let out a small saddened chuckle as you slowly closed your eyes and waited for the fire to engulf your completely until nothing but ash reminded.

You waited..

And waited..

The ropes wrapped around your wrists were soon sliced off and at the same time, you hear a few thuds collapsing onto gravel not too far away from you. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring at your uncle. Your now headless uncle. The blood erupting from his neck like a geyser as the body slumped down to its knees, occasionally twitching as the blood sprayed across your face and ragged dress. The color drained from your face completely as you stared down at the blood on your clothes, horrified until a large tattooed around wrapped itself around your waist. Freezing completely, you looked back forward to see the villagers beginning to flee until those who even took a step back were diced into cubed pieces.

"Any human who moves another muscle will die." A rough voice called out behind you, sending your heart to panic. Turning your head slightly to the side, you saw him.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

His eyes darted down towards you, crimson hues staring into your watery E/C eyes and he simply gave you a toothy grin. "Come on now, Y/N, you shouldn't give such a frightened look to your knight in shining armor. I just saved your life."

"Y-you killed them.. " you muttered, causing Sukuna to roll his eyes as he lifted you in the air before placing you down onto his shoulder to carry you. "And? I don't see what's wrong here. You're alive, they're dead. Now that we've been over that, I think you owe me a reward—"

"I knew it..." a woman said from the crowd, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping her fists. She stared at the two of you with fear in her eyes, more so you than Sukuna. "Y-you were sleeping with him..you dirty whore...letting a monster in this village. Letting a curse spread in this village!" As she screamed out, blood soon enough trickled down her lips as she felt a pain in her chest before a growing numbness. Looking down, the woman saw nothing but a gaping hole in the middle of her chest, blood dribbling down the emptiness to the stomach until she slowly collapsed on her back. Others around her screamed out, some moving from the places they were standing before being sliced in half or trisected into parts. You gasped out, covering your mouth as you felt bile rising up.

"S-she did nothing wrong!" You yelled to Sukuna as he only stared at the remaining people in the crowd with a smirk. "Wrong...As far as I see, everyone here has committed a great sin."

Crimson stained the once grey pathway as people are killed by the curse one after another. A few brave (or foolish) souls attempted to even rush at Sukuna only to make it as far as five steps forward before their insides became their outsides. A woman tried to beg for her life by offering herself as Sukuna's personal slave, even going as far as to give away to lives of her children but once again it proved nothing as she too was killed.

It didn't take long for Sukuna to kill off the rest of the villagers, regardless of their age or even if they were innocent or not. They were all killed and slaughtered brutally without mercy, their blood mixing together as the smell of their corpses began to reek. You stared down at the headless corpse of your uncle, eyes dulled as you thought perhaps it would've been better if the fire had claimed you. Then no one wouldve been killed. No, no that wasn't true.

It would've been better if you never met him. If you simply continued on your way and left him bleeding out for the shamans to find. If you had never opened your heart to the curse..then no one would've died. Then no one would've been killed. Feeling a hand brush your hair gently with his nails and combing a strain behind your ear, you were snapped out of your thoughts. Sukuna pulled you closer towards him with one arm and wrapped each of his arms around your small frame before pressing his lips onto your forehead.

"They didn't have to die..." your voice was practically a whisper at this point, hoarse and dry from the screaming and begging for him to stop. Sukuna merely chuckled as he released you, "Do you feel guilty?"

"What sort of question is that supposed to be? Of course I do...." Saying that you didn't would only be half of the truth. Sure you were angry with how they were so quick to hurt you and kill you but then again, if you knew this was what Sukuna was capable, you would've accepted the punishment. You should've listened, should've stayed away from him that night yet apart of you knew that this perhaps wouldn't have changed much.

"I don't see why when because of you, your people get to live on..."

Those words got your attention as they left you confused. Before you could even question him however, you heard a small weak voice speaking out towards it. "You've doomed us all, girl..."

You could've swore that it was your uncle speaking to you and yet you knew that was impossible seeing as his vocal cords were severed alongside his head. But when your eyes slowly looked over to the severed head, you saw a large flower growing where the blood pooled over. It might have been beautiful if it wasnt for the fact that your uncle's face was on the flower, darkened eyes staring at you. Gasping out, you covered you mouth and took a step back, pressing your back into the warm chest of Sukuna as he pointed over towards the other bodies littered around the execution ground.

A variety of flowers had sprouted forth from the blood soaked ground, each with the faces of the dead villagers as they yelled and screamed out in agony at you. So many cried out your name, children who were unfortunately brought here wailed as their mothers simply screamed out multiple swears at you. Speechless, you froze at the sight as more flowers simply began to grow up around the two of you and were only spreading. Small vines began to creep towards you, only to be sliced away when it got too far, not to you but to Sukuna.

"Regret, anger, hatred, sadness. So much negative energy, so much rage here. I wanted to repay my little flower and what else to gift her with than a garden of her own." He hunching over and reaching for one the screaming flowers, he plucked it forth from the ground as the face on it contorted in pain before it began to beg for mercy. "Flowers for my flower. Though none of this compare to you." Sukuna chuckled, placing the plant onto the back of your ear before combing a strand of your hair.

You felt disgusted as the flower's voice grew more and more faint, it practically whispering in your ear for himself to be spared such a fate. You could do nothing but silently say how sorry you were yet your hushed apologies were drowned out by the voices of your new cursed garden.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #jjk angst #jjk sukuna

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potatoes-is-are-food · 4 years ago

Note

Fatgum and size difference (for character + thirst) 👀

I love Fatgum I’m so happy you requested this!! It’s my first time writing him so I hope it turned out okay also I’m a self indulgent twat so you’re married in this because I wanna marry fatgum so you’re welcome

“Sweets?” Taishiro asked as you swung your leg widely over his hulking body to straddle him, his plush tummy soft and warm under you. You’d been sitting beside him for a while, nestled into his arm and hoping he’d initiate something since he seemed to have some energy. You quickly got fed up with his inability to read your mind and taken things into your own hands.

He hadn’t had any incidents on patrol earlier but had bulked up in anticipation, so now your husband’s almost full fat form was under you, easily big enough to lie down on for a nap which normally would be what you wanted, but something about how you hadn’t seen him this big in a while stirred something in you. You let yourself fall forward, your whole body easily supported by his as you rested your head on his chest.

“Taishi,” you whined, bucking your hips slightly to avoid actually asking for it. You scooted up, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting several kisses to his full cheeks. You nuzzled against him, the soft skin of his cheek full and squishy against yours. His massive hands caressed your hips, fingers you could barely wrap a hand around prodding at your ass and kneading your flesh.

The size difference made it difficult to kiss normally, so you settled for flicking your tongue against Taishiro’s much larger one and kissing all along his lips messily. He didn’t mind, more than content to let you lavish affection on him. You rolled your hips again, stimulating your clit against his stomach, moaning softly from the light pressure through your clothes.

He gave a light tug to the hem of your shirt and you sat up, lifting your arms and letting him pull it up and off before flinging it to the floor. His thumb brushed along your stomach and gently tweaked your bare breasts. To him you were like a doll, tiny and fragile and something he needed to hold and handle with care. He could pick you up and position you however he liked and you’d not only let him but squeal with delight and beg for more.

He pulled you up further along his body so he could press his lips against your chest as he snaked a finger between your legs, humming softly when you started to hump against it. You felt a little bad, knowing you wouldn’t be able to take him in any of your orifices when he was so big but also excited to grind on the absolute behemoth. He always assured you he didn’t mind and he thought it was cute to watch you desperately writhe on a cock at least ten times too big for you until you tired yourself out and he could finish all over your tiny body.

Taking him in his fit form was a challenge that required hours of prep and was about the equivalent to getting fisted by a normal sized person; there was no way you’d ever be able to take his full size. You couldn’t touch your fingers using both hands around it and the sheer volume of cum he produced would probably shoot you off if you could get it in at all. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought as you wiggled out of your shorts, now completely naked on top of him.

“Take yours off, gummy,” you ordered softly, bunching the fabric of his hoodie in your fingers. He smiled, a small laugh sounding in his throat as he moved you to his lap, unzipping and letting the garment join yours on the floor. You climbed back onto his tummy, flattening your body across it and basking in the skin-to-skin contact.

He slid his hand down your back, stroking your whole body and paying a little extra attention to your ass. You spread your legs invitingly, still plastered against him as his fingers ran along your thighs and up between your limbs. You nearly jumped when his skin came in contact with your heat, already slicked up from his stroking.

He hummed, spreading the fluid around your quim gently and letting you grind against his large digit. You rocked your hips slowly, but every time your clit got close to his skin he’d pull away just enough so you couldn’t get any friction on it. You whined, squirming atop him until he shuffled down his shorts and gently moved you down to his lap again.

You wasted no time, straining slightly as you pulled him out of his pants, the weight and girth causing you to use two hands. He wasn’t even fully hard when you sat, rolling your hips and covering him in your slick. His cheeks tinged pink as he watched, a hand on your hips to guide your movements and ensure he could edge you if he wanted.

You thought he was being merciful when he let you finish, head falling back as you cried out. You twitched and went slightly limp, and he held you up and kept you going throughout the orgasm. He wasn’t, though, continuing to push and pull you along his shaft as you writhed, gripping his wrists to make him let up. He didn’t slow at all, completely unhindered by what may as well have been a kitten trying to bat away a tank.

“Tai-” you panted, breath caught in your throat as the forced pleasure had you close to orgasm again. He smiled down at you, enjoying the view of your slick cunt grating back and forth and lubricating his dick. Your juices dripped down the sides of it and onto his thick thighs, making you more unstable until you were holding onto him for stability.

“One more for me, sweets,” he said, not bothering to hide his smug amusement at the groan you gave him. You nodded, expecting him to just keep forcing your hips along his length, but instead he pulled you to your hands and knees facing away from him. His huge index finger pressed against you, gathering your juices in preparation to penetrate you. You moaned when he sank the appendage into your wet cavern, the stretch stinging slightly.

You stroked what you could reach of his cock, tonguing at his slit when he pulled the heavy thing up to you. You massaged and caressed it, occasionally dipping a hand down to knead at his full balls. He groaned, twitching slightly as your tongue dipped inside, continuing to pump into your cunt with his huge finger. You flattened yourself slightly, letting your clit grind on his stomach again as his thrusts forced you back and forth.

You came around the digit, walls clamping and soaking him as you cried out. He pulled it out, reveling in the whimper you gave in response, and pulled you apart with his thumbs, watching your cunt twitch. He pulled you back onto his expansive tongue, greedily lapping up your fluids with a groan. You weren’t sure if it drew another one from you or just prolonged the last, but you bucked against his face with another strangled sob of his name until he finally released you.

“You’re so sweet,” he cooed.

You panted, limp against him while he stroked himself to the sight, coaxing you up as he got close. You excitedly pressed against his head, lining it up as though it had any chance of fitting. He leaned up and kissed you, allowing you to suck your taste off his tongue as he came, liters of cum spurting into your throbbing hole and all over your pussy. The thick, hot liquid coated most of your lower body starting just under your ribcage and dripping down your legs.

You quickly brought your lips to his tip just as he gave one last spurt, suckling it out of him and swallowing as much as you could. Most of it coated your face, dripping down your chin as you flopped back over onto your spent husband. He stroked you gently, and you kissed up his body until you rested your head on his shoulder. His tongue flicked along your cheek, tasting himself and your sweat.

“Hm, that’s not bad, actually,” he said. You giggled, wiping your face on your arm.

“You’re sweet too, Tai,” you kissed his cheek and snuggled into him as he stood, carrying you to a much needed shower.

#mha fatgum #fatgum smut #fatgum x reader #fatgum x y/n #fatgum x you #mha fatgum smut #mha taishiro

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

The Writer (part three)

Warning - FILTH

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni

Once inside his office, he sat you on the desk and took a step back. His eyes all over you. You took a step towards him, running your hands underneath his nightshirt. Lifting it over his head, your fingers traced his tattoos - Jack had the same ones, from the same regiment. His naked form in front of you, your core pulsed. Pulling him over to the desk you leaned him against it, before sinking to your knees and taking his hardening length in your hand.

"I'm going to get you hard again... You're going to cum down my throat, then you're going to bend me over this desk and take me exactly how I know you want to..." Your eyes bore into his as his lips turned up into a smirk.

"I don't think you can handle how hard I want to fuck you into this desk y/n." You winked at him, before sinking your mouth over the tip of his cock, your hand rolling his balls around your fingers as you sucked him. You could still taste yourself over his cock and it fuelled the fire burning deep within you.

Rolling your tongue slowly over the tip, sinking it gently into the slit at the top, you grinned as his fingers wove into your hair, tugging it.

"Gonna take me all the way?" You weren't sure if that was a question or an order but you responded by pushing your lips over his shaft, relaxing your throat muscles. Taking him deep inside, your warm tongue pressed against the long vein under his shaft, he groaned deeply above you as your nose made contact with his pubic bone.

Bobbing your mouth over him, sucking, grazing your teeth occasionally over that vein, his hips were bucking into you, desperate to feel as much of your warm, tight mouth as possible.

"Gonna destroy that pretty little throat of yours.. you'll still be tasting my cum when you wake up y/n..." He was panting now, his high was so close you could taste the precum in your mouth as you bobbed faster, groaning into his cock. The grip on your hair tightened, he was in charge again, holding your head in place as he fucked your mouth. Pistoning his hips, his voice a deep groan, breathy moans followed by him pausing his thrusts as his cum flowed from him down your throat. Swallowing everything he had, you licked him clean and stood as he fell back against the desk, breathing heavily.

"Holy shit... Your mouth..." He couldn't even finish the sentence. His eyes shone a darker blue as he backed you up against the wall.

His lips on yours, he could definitely taste himself on your tongue but he was a man possessed now, he didn't care. All he wanted was to be inside you again.

You felt his hand between your legs, parting your thighs before roughly inserting two fingers deep within your core. Rutting them upwards, finding his goal with a quick flick of them.

"Oh fuck... Tommy..."

"Found it again..."

"Arrogant little pri - fuck!" He silenced you with a flick of his fingers again, the sensations coursing through you like a tidal wave as he fingered you hard. So gentle foreplay this time, you'd awoke the demon inside him.

"You're gonna make such a mess for me... I'm not stopping until your cum is leaking onto my floor." His eyes on his hand as he watched it pulling inside you. Your cries echoing around the room, his lips now on your neck. Sucking and biting at the flesh, your orgasm building so quickly you barely had time to register it.

"Tommy... Tommy.. it's too much, I can't... Tommy!"

"You can.. this pretty little cunt can take it. You fit so perfectly around my fingers y/n, you're gonna cum aren't you? Dirty little one, cumming hard around my fingers... making a mess of my fine oak floorboards... Let the maids know who's making you scream.."

Your hips were writhing against his fingers, the pressure inside you building to its crescendo - you fell apart over his hand, your juices squirting hard over his floors and legs. His other arm held you in place as you cried his name over and over, his fingers easing out of you as he brought them to your lips.

"Lick them clean." You took them in your mouth and licked your juices from them hungrily, surprised at the sweetness of it. Glancing down you saw he was hard and ready for you again. He had to almost carry you over to the desk, bending you over it and spreading your ass cheeks as wide as he could.

"Fucking glorious..." He groaned, lining himself up against you, before easing inside with one hard, deep thrust making you scream out in an exquisite mix of pain and pleasure.

"Thomas... Fuck me...." You begged, desperate for him.

"Want me to pound you into this desk?"

"Fuck yes..."

"Make your legs shake?"

"Please..." You felt his cock twitching inside you.

"You're gonna scream so loud the whole house will wake up, knowing exactly what's happening in this room?" A sharp smack against your ass made you jump, you swear you nearly came at the contact as your nails dug into the wooden frame of the desk.

"Like it when I spank you? The way your pussy gripped me I'd say you do my dirty girl..." Another smack, before he began to thrust hard and fast, barely allowing you time to register as he fucked you relentlessly. His hand on your hair again, pulling it so hard your back arched, changing the angle of his thrusts to aim them perfectly at your already overstimulated g spot.

"FUCK!!!! TOMMY!!!" Your voice was loud enough to wake the dead but you didn't care. You needed this desperately.

"Gonna cum all over my cock y/n? Show me how much you want this eh?" His words turned you on even more as his thrusts sent your spiralling to another orgasm.

"Harder... Make me cum Tommy.." he released your hair and took your arms under his, almost straightening you against his chest as he continued to pound into you.

Your voice was almost non-existent as your orgasm exploded from you, his thrusts smashing into your sweet spot as you came hard, your juices flowing down his cock and thighs as your reached your peak with a high pitched cry.

"That's it my girl, that's it..." He gave you no mercy, instead bringing one of his hands down to circle your clit, extending your euphoria further.

He suddenly eased his thrusts, taking a deep breath before edging you both over to the chair behind him. Without leaving your body, he eased himself onto the chair. Lifting your hips up and down on top of him. You gripped onto the desk in front of you and continued the pace he'd set on your own, bouncing on his cock as he pulled your hair again.

"Gonna fill me up Thomas? You gonna cum in me?" He growled in response, his cock twitching inside you. You brought a hand down to squeeze his balls between your legs, sending him over the edge.

He pulled your back into his chest quickly, squeezing one of your breasts as he came hard, shooting streams of cum deep inside, panting your name.

Both of you rested like that for a while, his hands gently caressing over your breasts and stomach as he caught his breath. You could feel him softening inside you as your walls clenched and pulsed around him. His lips gently kissing the back of your neck and shoulders.

"Incredible Tommy... Just incredible..."

"You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect..." You smiled, easing off him gently. He stood, lifting your tired body into his arms.

"Now we sleep. Come on," he smiled, lifting your body into his arms and carrying you up the stairs. You were wrong to assume he was carrying you to your room, as he opened the door to his bedroom and carried you inside.

"Why am I in here?"

"Because this is where you belong." He tucked you in gently before climbing in beside you. His arms snaked around your body, pressing his own against your back. Sleep came easier than it had in years, for both of you. His light snoring behind you, his warm, strong arms holding you close, you hadn't felt this satisfied and comfortable in a long time. Bringing his hand gently up and kissing it lightly, you felt his body pull you tighter.

"Stay..." He whispered, almost in his sleep.

You didn't answer, you didn't know what to say. Was he dreaming? Was this just a fantasy fuck for him? You decided to enjoy it for whatever it was, and drifted off into a comfortable sleep.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x smut #thomas shelby x smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian smut #cillian murphy x smut

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sserpente · 4 years ago

Photo

A/N: Surprise! Here’s the thing—I don’t normally write sub!Loki at all. However, since Christmas is a time of gifting and making wishes come true and it has been requested quite a few times in the past, I decided to take on an anon request. I can’t write fully-fledged sub!Loki, I just can’t… so I hope this will do! There’s another anon request in there too. I hope you all enjoy it!

Words: 2357 Warnings: sub!Loki-ish, fluff, smut

Additional NSFW warnings: light bondage, oral, usage of anal sex toy

You cursed when you stubbed your toe on the door, shutting it aggressively all the while flinging your bag into the corner like it was the reason for all of your problems. You were trembling, anger and exhaustion gnawing at your guts.

When you let out a desperate sigh as you kicked off your winter boots, Loki tilted his head. He had appeared in the threshold leading to the living room on your floor—an entire floor on Stark Tower, all to yourself. Today, however, this very circumstance did not cheer you up in the slightest.

“A good evening to you too, pet.” He said, eyeing you with curiosity.

“I bloody hate working in retail!” You spat in response. “Why are people being so idiotic, can you tell me that? Oh, I want a refund on this obviously used item which I don’t even have the receipt for, oh, can’t you hurry up I need to catch a train—I had hours to spend on browsing but I want to pay for this immediately or I’m just gonna leave, oh, can you recommend a gift for my niece, I barely know her or her interests but surely you’ll find a gift for her because I am too lazy to use my own brain?” You were fuming. Loki chuckled.

“My dear… breathe.” He was never this gentle with any of the other Avengers but then again, you were the only one he had taken a romantic and sexual interest in. You sighed when he approached you to pull you into a tight embrace, forcing you to calm down for him. Your hands wrapped around his middle almost automatically, allowing him to lift you off the ground and carry you into your bedroom.

Loki spent most of his time in your flat here in Stark Tower. Here, he wasn’t always under suspicion of plotting world domination again—and in fact, all he did was reading, stealing your sweets and learning more about Midgardian culture, first and foremost Christmas. Last week, you had forced him through all Santa Clause films and he had actually ended up enjoying them in the end.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you pressed your face against his chest, letting his hand stroke over your head. Perhaps you should finally let the cat out of the bag and tell the others about your relationship. Loki could be so sweet… and he loved being pampered by you, even if you made sure to take your time teasing him thoroughly first.

“Is there a particular reason you left me a gift this morning?” He changed the topic. Oh yes. You had almost forgotten about this. You had shoved part of Loki’s Christmas gift into his green and gold socket above your bed before you had left this morning. It was Christmas Eve and since you would be spending the 25th with the other Avengers, you had decided that him receiving part of his gift in private would be more appropriate.

“Me?” You asked, playing innocent. “That must have been Santa, Lokes.”

“Are you going to tell me what exactly it is?” He probed. You giggled, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“I was hoping you’d ask. Where did you put it?” Loki conjured it up seemingly out of thin air—you’d never grow tired of seeing him use his seidr—and handed you a black plastic packaging which contained an equally black butt plug with a prostate massager for men. Loki and you had recently had a conversation about toys for men as opposed to women only and much to your surprise, he had shown quite the interest in the topic. The faces of the Avengers would have been priceless, had you put it under the Christmas tree for him along with his main present.

You grinned. “Lie down on the bed for me—and magic your clothes off, will you?” Loki smiled at your request. He did not often let you command him around like that—but when he did he knew you needed it, to have some fun with his arousal for you to distract yourself from work and other sorrows, much like today. You shouldn’t be in such a bad mood on Christmas Eve, after all.

Still smiling gently, he did as he was told and then slightly raised his eyebrows for you to make the next move. You winked at him after admiring his semi-hard cock for a bit, disappearing in the bathroom. Once you had returned, hands washed, clothes changed and sex toy sanitised properly, you got to work. Loki’s eyebrows shot up all the way when you produced the bondage rope you kept in the drawer right next to the bed and then climbed on the bed as well, straddling his strong thighs.

“Please? Let me play.” You pouted. Loki sighed—allowing you to tie his hands together and then to the bedpost. Both of you were very well aware that he could rip himself free at any time—it was more a matter of it looking pretty and downright hot to have the God of Mischief tied up and at your mercy, at least hypothetically.

He shifted on the mattress just a little when you reached for the toy again which you had already coated in a thick layer of strawberry lube and brought it to his anus. It was designed to directly stimulate his prostate and you positively couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

“What are you doing?” His question was a warning; reminding you it was a privilege he was playing submissive for you and that the… situation could change at any moment. You swallowed, your own arousal pooling in your knickers like a waterfall.

“Trust me? It will feel good, I promise.”

Loki sighed once more—and gasped when you slowly and carefully worked the butt plug inside of his rear. His cock twitched, joyful anticipation mixing with impatience. By the time it was snugly in place, he was as hard as rock and moaned upon you wrapping your hand around him, giving him a few strokes with your hands partially still covered in the strawberry lube you had used.

Loki bucked his hips almost immediately, growling when you drew your hand away again. You chuckled. “You look pretty adorable like that, you know… desperate for pleasure…”

He growled in response. “You will be the one desperate for pleasure and begging me for my touch if you keep this up for long.” He threatened. Your giggle intensified. You felt so much better already.

“Just you wait.” You said, pressing the button of the small bullet vibrator inserted into the butt plug. Loki tensed up when it hummed to life, sending continuous vibrations through his anus and stimulating his prostate.

Then, taking mercy on him, your hand returned to his impressive length, jerking and pleading for attention. A few drops of precum had already formed on his red tip—it was too tempting to ignore. Unceremoniously, you bent down and closed your lips around him, licking over his slit and lapping up all he had to give for now.

Loki tugged at his restraints. A little more strength and he’d tear them apart altogether and he was barely just containing himself anymore already. Knowing he could stop this anytime and pin you down underneath him to just take what he desired for some reason only fuelled his arousal. He bucked his hips in an attempt to plunge himself deeper into your mouth but you were being particularly relentless today. He growled once more, watching how a grin formed on your lips. With a smacking sound, you released him again, continuing to stroke him all the while the prostate massager kept vibrating inside of his rear.

“Does that feel good?” You asked, almost timidly. Loki was an experienced lover, you knew this much. How many Asgardian women had had the pleasure to learn what had earned him the nickname silver tongue you did not want to know and yet, even though his confidence in bed and knowledge of pleasing a woman was exciting, at the very same time it intimidated you.

Loki nodded, blue eyes locked with yours. “Yes. Keep going, my dear.” It almost sounded like an order—one you’d do better not to defy. You took it as an invitation and pressed the button of the vibrator again.

The setting was on high now—but not high enough to tip him over the edge just yet. You needed to hear him whimper first. You had managed once, a few weeks back when Loki had allowed you to tie him up and tease him for a while for the very first time. In the end, it had resulted in him flipping you around and fucking you roughly from behind so hard you had been unable to walk the next day. Your cunt clenched upon remembering how deliciously sore you had felt. It was a risk you were willing to take again.

Loki bucked his hips once more, thrusting up in a steadier rhythm now and desperate for more friction… which gave you another idea. Biting your lower lip, you stood from the bed and peeled off the comfy trousers you had changed into, right along with your underwear. If only Loki could see the wet spot on them as you stepped out of them, he would be grinning like a cat who got the cream but fortunately for you, you were in charge tonight—or at least, for now.

He eyed you like a hungry wolf, growling in an animalistic manner as soon as your slick pussy lips rubbed against his tip and you massaged your clit with it for a while before slowly, painfully slow, sinking down on him and sheathing his cock deep inside of you. You moaned, throwing your head back. Riding him always felt so much deeper than when he was on top… unless he hauled your legs over his shoulders that was.

“More…” He choked out, his blue gaze getting almost feverish, about to turn him into a mindless beast. You stilled, not moving an inch and just kept him inside of you all the while the vibrator in his rear kept stimulating him. He gritted his teeth when you failed to move, bucking up his hips in a desperate attempt to get you to ride him but you decided to take your time. Leaning forward, you began covering his chest and neck in light kisses, tongue darting out every now and then to taste him. Loki was already sweating, his limbs shaking and you knew then just how badly he needed his release. The restraints keeping his hands above his head on the bedpost gave a suspicious tearing sound as he thrust up into you once more.

He was close. He was so close. Smiling, you kissed him and moved back up and into a sitting position. Your fingers found the switch of the vibrator, turning the setting even higher. There was no need for you to move and ride him anymore. Loki came by himself and finally, gave you the whimper you had so desired to hear from him. Your lips parted when he starting twitching inside of you, spilling himself with a groan. His warm seed coated your walls, his cock jerking until he was all but spent. Once he had caught his breath, you turned off the vibrator… for now.

“Get that lovely quim of yours up here.” He ordered with a hoarse voice, once more raising the question whether you had ever truly been in charge of his pleasure. But who were you to defy him? Biting your lower lip, you let him slide out of you, whimpering at the loss of feeling so deliciously full, inched forward until your most private parts were only inches from his mouth and then carefully sat again, your thighs to either side of his head.

Loki wasted no time. Humming contently, he licked over your slit and clit, suckling on your outer lips and circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue pressing against it, massaging it, until you dug your fingers into his raven hair, urging him on. You were so incredibly wet for him it wouldn’t take you long to gush all over him either and so you did. Loki ate you out like you were his last meal, pampering your clit until your body couldn’t take it anymore and you fell, seeing stars as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pure pleasure. You only realised once you lifted yourself off his face because he would not stop that he had wrapped his fingers around the bars of the top of the bed. The bondage rope was torn apart beyond repair.

You smiled, allowing him you wrap you in his arms as he flipped you both around so you came to lie on the bed more comfortably.

“Feeling more relaxed now, my dear?” He asked with a sly smile.

“Much better. Thank you.” Loki hummed in response. “I’m pretty hungry… how about an early Christmas dinner? Just the two of us, without the others.”

“That sounds promising. But first I will need you to get that thing out of me.” He said, eliciting a devilish grin from you.

“I think I’m gonna leave that thing where it is for now. You’ll get a taste of your own medicine. Remember that golden butt plug you made me wear on Christmas last year? Revenge is sweet. So…” You paused. “Are you going to help me cook?”

Loki’s expression darkened, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine. “You are going to remove that right now.”

“Nope,” you announced smugly, freeing yourself from his embrace and climbing off the mattress. “I’ll be in the kitchen, whenever you’re ready.”

Truth be told, you never made it to the kitchen. Loki was after you in a matter of seconds, dragged you back into bed and made sure you came to regret teasing him like that. Oh, and you most definitely lost count after at least five more orgasms.

A/N: There’s a hint in there for another smutty Loki Christmas Imagine soon to come. Can you find it? ;-)

If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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daisiesandshakes · 4 years ago

Text

Ikevamp fanfiction

One step closer part 2

Pairing: William Shakespeare & female reader

Summary: after confessing your feelings for each other (part one) it's going to be a wild night...

Words: about 4k

Rating: 18+ /NSFW PLEASE DON'T READ WHEN YOU'RE UNDER THAT AGE!

Tags/warnings: smut (you have been warned), sex, oral sex, (vampire) biting, overstimulation, mentions of cum & blood, light bonding

Special thanks to: lovely @yanderepuck for rereading and helping me with this 4k monster 💖 and for inspiring me with her simping post to put my thoughts into words 🙏💖

Enshrouded in his arms it is a silent carriage ride to Shakespeare's house. Neither of you speak a word, exchanging affection is the only expression of your feelings.

William caresses your silken locks as you reach out to touch his gorgeous face again. Is this really happening?

You're with him, HIM!

He holds you in his arms and he loves you!

Sighing, you trace the lines of his delicate lips with your fingertips. Why does the carriage take so long?

Locking eyes, William holds your hand in place, kissing every finger. His lips ghost over your knuckles, traveling over your fingertips to graze them with his fangs and the tip of his tongue.

Mismatched eyes, now like burning flames, swallow every provoked reaction.

His intense, sensual glance full of sweet promises is already enough to let the muscles in your lower belly clench and you whimper.

Dammit - this man is way too sexy.

His pupils grow wide at the noise that escapes your lips.

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife right now. Grabbing you by your hair at your neck he pulls you into a kiss.

At first it starts as a soft and tender touch, but then William's teasing tongue dances over your lips again and again.

You shift your legs due to the sweet sensation between your thighs.

Wanting more, you take his tongue in a sudden motion between your lips, sucking at the tip, then pushing your own hungrily against his.

Shakespeare moans loudly with pleasure.

Tightening the grip in your hair he pushes you down into the seat, kissing you deeply with feral desire. You can feel his other hand moving from your waist up to your chest, caressing the form of your breast through the fabric of your dress.

At this moment the carriage stops.

Slowly Will tears himself from the kiss and pulls you up.

"To tempt me with these cunning wiles...tis is a dangerous game of yours." He whispers into your ear.

"Though I'm begging you to show me more, it inspires me to make you mad with pleasure. Be assured my dear, I'm looking forward to pay back a tenfold the passion you intend to grace me with '', his voice seductive with bare desire. You swallow.

With a blank mind and weak legs you let Will help you out of the carriage and lead you the way to the house entrance, the bubbling excitement inside your stomach growing with every second.

As the door closes behind you, Will takes his jacket off and ties his hair up with a ribbon.

You turn around, unsure what to do with yourself, looking at the exquisite interior.

"Do you need something, my dear? A drink mayhap?"

Somehow his voice sounds unusually deep and suppressed.

You're turning back to face him "No thank you William, I am f-"

Your back slams against the door and you gasp in surprise. Shakespeare presses himself against you, his nose almost touching yours, you can feel his hot breath on your skin. While he pins your wrists with one hand over your head, his other hand moves from your waist up to your chest, dancing over your curves. Not breaking eye contact his fingertips trail the way up to your face, stroking your cheekbones and the lines of your lips with the lightest, tender touch.

He frowns "I am sorry... I fear I can't be that gentle servant you deserve my goddess..." his voice husky.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears and you lick your lips, his gaze immediately glued to your mouth.

"You bewitched tis pathetic wretch... making me shiver with lust, begging for even the barest brush of your skin".

William slowly pushes a knee between your legs to spread them.

"It is my eager wish now to favour you with tis sensation in return." He purrs as he lifts his leg between your thighs to press it softly against your womanhood, his hand now cupping your breast.

Your entire body trembles with want.

His lustvoll gaze still glued to your lips, as if he awaits words of a magic spell from them to set him free, unable to make a further move without them.

Tears of unbearable anticipation sting in your eyes.

"Don't hold back William, I am yours, here at your mercy. I love you and I want you so bad, I need you!"

With a cry he kisses you with untamed desire, pushing his tongue deep into your mouth to intertwine with yours. You bury your free hand in his soft maroon hair, trying to pull him even closer.

Lifting one of your legs around his hip, he bucks against you and your juices ruin your panties as you feel his throbbing erection. His lips leave your mouth, traveling along your jaw to your neck, his tongue leaving wet stripes on your skin.

Letting your wrist go Shakespeare breaks the kiss and yanks with one fierce move of your dress and corset down to your waist. You gasp at the act and the sensation of cool air on your bare breasts.

Feeling embarrassed you close your eyes and lift your arms to cover your chest.

"Don't.. I beg you" you stop at his pleading voice.

As you open your eyes to meet his gaze, the pure adoration lying in it shocks you and sends shivers down your spine.

He takes a step forward, hovering his hands above your chest.

"Oh my sweet darling, tis is such a breathtaking sight, it would inspire any artist's mind to create masterpieces.. " his fingertips graze slightly over your collarbones.

"I don't dare pretty neigh to touch your delicate form".

Nearly shy words, barely a whisper.

"If you don't touch me right now William, I'm sure I'll attack you instead" you growl, surprised by your own boldness.

He chuckles delightfully as he takes you in his arms.

"So greedy and eager, hm? Shush darling... Let tis bewitched wretch take his time to worship you..." he purrs at the sensitive spot behind your earlobe.

His tongue travels from your earlobe to your jaw, up to your lips to slip eager in between, kissing you senseless and you let yourself drown in the pleasure. Cupping and squeezing your breasts, his thumbs teases your nipples, making you dizzy with desire.

Not breaking the dance of tongues, your trembling fingers try to open the buttons of his shirt, hungry to touch his skin.

Impatient you just rip it open and as your fingers touch his solid chest you moan into the kiss.

Will pulls away laughing.

"Never thought to imagine you would desire tis body of mine this much." He smiles at your lips.

He has no idea.

His hands leave your skin only for a few seconds to take his shirt off.

Then again he presses his body against yours and heat waves run through you as his hot chest touches your bare skin, brushing over your stiff nipples and William's mouth captures yours with the greed of a starving man.

You let your fingertips travel over the sides of his upper body, down to his abs, noticing him breathing hard.

You break from the kiss, leaning the head back to watch his wide-eyed expression while your hands slowly travel to his loins.

Panting, with slight open lips he shifts a bit, giving you more space to go further.

One of your hands moves over his arousal to enfold it through the fabric of his pants. You hold your breath at the size.

He lays his hand on top of yours, pressing his pulsing manhood into the palm of your hand.

His hot tongue slides teasingly over your lips with whimpering noises as he rocks his hips.

Abruptly Shakespeare lifts the bottom of your dress and you hear the ripping sound of fabric at your panties, only a split second before a finger enters your tight wetness.

You cry out.

"Fuck!" Your hips roll against his hand as he bends the digit.

"Not yet, my greedy temptress" he hisses next to your lips, pulling his finger out, licking it clean.

William moans at the taste of your sweet juices and his intense stare with burning eyes forces you to look away, unable to bear this carnal sight anymore.

He cups your breasts again, sucking your nipples, letting his tongue dance around them and you squeeze your eyes shut with a groan.

Kneeling down he tears the rest of your clothes to shreds, stroking the sides of your hips with affection. His nose brushes over your thighs up to your loins, followed by his tongue. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulder he intrudes two fingers into your heat.

"Ah... so wet with juices sweet as honey and so tight on my fingers alone..., you're truly a divine relish." he murmurs before his tongue slips over your swollen clit.

Desperately trying to steady yourself you grab the doorframe and dove the other hand into his hair.

His digits moving in and out, heading deeper searching for the sweet spot that let you see stars, your wetness dripping down your thighs. With a flat, dancing tongue he moans against your sensitive nub.

"W- William... I can't..." breathless you roll your hips frantically at his hand to bring his fingers rubbing over the secret spot deep inside your aching core with every slight move.

You feel a tingle building up in your lower belly and back arching you grab his hair as you come down hard.

Crying out loudly, your walls clenched around his fingers, your wetness spreads over his hand.

Shakespeare pulls his fingers out, licking your folds and then his fingers to achieve every drop your body offers.

While waves of the aftershock run through your form, your shaky legs fail you.

He lifts you up into his arms, leaning his forehead against yours as he carries you into his bedroom.

"It only has begun, my dearie" he whispers, lying your body carefully down onto the silken sheets.

Hovering his body over yours his enchanting, mismatched eyes study every detail of your form, filled with love and adoration.

Graceful fingers floating over your chest, your breasts down to your belly, sliding over your hips to your thighs.

You weep as he reaches your knees, forcing them apart with gentle pressure, to spread them more for him.

To lie this bare, in such a vulnerable state open to his intense view, makes you shiver and yet you can feel more wetness drip over your slit.

"Never before have I seen such beauty, lying spreaded before me, bathed in moonlight." He confesses with a husky voice, kissing softly on your knees.

"Let me drown in you, my beautiful. I desire to get lost in your embrace, wishing never to be found again" his tongue caresses your thighs.

With piercing eyes Will observes every tiny move you make as he spreads your legs more and slides a finger into your heat again. You grip the sheets.

"Tis is mine, mine alone" he whispers fiercely, easing his finger in and out, hitting your hidden, sweet spot over and over again as he gazes down at you with glowy eyes, watching you closely, absorbing your slightest reaction.

You whimper "Will.. oh god.. I'm about to .. Aaah.. cum again!"

How did he find out so fast how to pleasure you the most?

"Who do you belong to? Scream it for me, my greedy temptress"

Ardent spoken words and his skilled finger sending you over the edge, tears of passion roll over your cheeks

"You!! I only belong to you Will!! Oh god.."

The world around you stops existing and you fall apart as the juices of your third climax spill again over his hand.

He lifts his wet fingers up, eyeing them stunned.

His hungry gaze darts to your glistening entry and with a groan he dives in, licking your slit up to your oversensitive nub, to caress it with soft, circling moves.

You squirm, trying to get away, overwhelmed from this stimulation. But his hands around your thighs push your hips down, holding you in place with an iron grip.

You're sure you can't take this overstimulation anymore.

Tears rise up again and you cry out "William! P- please... Too much!"

You begged him to stop, but you nearly yelped as his tongue left you.

Sensing the warmth of his body as he climbs on top of you, you cup his face and lean up to lavish his delicate features over and over with lovingly kisses, smiling shaky before your lips find his.

Without ceasing his hands travel over your curves, leaving burning traces on your skin.

Cupping your breast in his palm and giving it rough squeezes, he lifts your leg around his hip with his other hand, pressing his covered arousal against your entrance, making you feel the aching emptiness inside of you.

"Please...Will..."

"Hm? Please what my impatient goddess?" he asks teasingly, rolling his hips up again. You never imagined you were able to desire someone this much.

"Don't.. tease.. I need you! I'm begging you...! I beg you to make me yours!" You manage to whimper with a broken voice.

He freezes at your confession, staring into your eyes with a feral light in his gaze.

"To hear those tempting words from thyne sweet lips..."

His mouth claims yours with a fervent kiss, leaving you breathless.

"As my Queen wishes, I'm your servant at your command" he purrs.

Sitting up he pushes his pants down, kicking them off in a quick motion, to be over you again in seconds. You lay your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and you sense the tip of his throbbing cock against your slit.

"Please, take me, please..." you breathe, thinking you can't stand another second without having him inside of you.

Guiding his cock with one hand to your entrance, he pushes the tip inside.

You throw your head back and mewl, trying to pull him closer with your legs.

With a slow but firm motion he enters you fully. Gasping for air, you try to relax, letting the muscles of your tight core adjust to his size.

William breathes hard, strands of wet hair fall into his face and his sweaty chest glistens in the moonlight.

"By all the gods, you must be created for my shape only... Aah.. .to feel your lustful tightness around me..."

Shakespeare didn't move yet, making you mad with desire and you think he knows it.

You buck your hips up hard to his and he groans.

"Move." you hiss at his mouth, biting softly his lower lip, digging your nails into the delicate flesh of his rear.

William loses all remaining reason. You could see it in his eyes.

Reaching down to take your hands, he pins them down over your head, holding your wrists with one hand. He pulls back until only the tip of his member remains inside, watching you as he pushes back into your heat unbearable slowly.

You sigh in delight by the sensation of feeling every inch of him. Pulling back again, Shakespeare lifts your hips to change the angle, instantly meeting the hidden, sensitive spot inside as he thrusts deep into you.

Your mind goes blank, eyes wide open as you moan out his name and a pleased smile appears on his lips before they capture yours in a messy kiss.

With every fierce thrust into you, his body slides over yours, the warmth of his chest brushing over your stiff nipples makes your toes curl.

His mouth travels down to your neck, leaving his tongue across your tender skin lovingly. He inhales the sweet scent that comes from that delicate place and before you can tell what he's about to do, his fangs plunge your skin.

"William... Not while.."

Barely noticing the short prick, you scream because of the unearthly pleasure that follows, spreading through you, setting every nerve alight.

You almost pass out, mind and body overwhelmed and overstimulated. The orgasm that hits you tears you in pieces, leaving you shattered and shaking.

The walls of your core clench around William's cock rapidly and you hear yourself crying out like a wounded animal, while your release drips down your thighs onto the sheets.

The waves of the aftershock doesn't seem to end, blissful tears spilling out of your eyes but you don't notice them.

The playwright leans down, his soft lips kissing the corners of your eyes fondly, to wipe your tears away with them.

"So sensitive to my touch and bite... I have to admit, I didn't presume to affect you this much", he murmurs at your skin.

You shift your head to meet his eyes, surprised to find joyful tears glistening in them.

"You affect me this way because I love you so madly, William".

Groaning loud he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down next to your head. His hips buck again against yours while kissing you fiercely, messy, senseless.

The nerves in your now oversensitive core spread with every stroke of his member arousing tingles through you, making you moan constantly.

Your whole lower belly seems to be on fire and you can feel the pleasure grow again.

Such rapture shouldn't be possible!

You throw your head back to expose your neck for his hungry tongue , trailing burning lines on your skin.

"I love you, I love you so much Will... ", you grind your hips to meet his slow, but forceful thrusts.

He let go of your hands, holding you against him, his eyes sparkling. You smile at each other between sensual kisses, tongues dancing together. At your lips he whispers "My darling, my goddess...fair maiden only mine, I love you more than you can imagine".

Suddenly William increases the speed of his deep thrusts and you gasp, the air filled with the sounds of slapping, wet skin and cries of pure pleasure.

"Oh f-.. oh god, you feel so good Will!"

Something changes in him at your words.

With fiery eyes and a moan on his lips he grabs the back of your knees, pushing them to your chest, desperately trying to get even deeper into you.

This new position allowed him to hit with every stroke the sweet spot deep inside your heat, making your vision blurry with stars.

Holding onto his slim shoulders as if your life depends on it, you breath his name again and again.

You dig your nails into his tender flesh when an incredible tingle starts to rise and the coil deep inside tightens.

"Ah.. I'm so close! More, I need more!"

His wet hair falls over his face as he slams forcefully into you. "So...as... I am! My love, let me hear your sweet voice, scream for me!"

Attacking your chest with love bites William pierces your nipples with his fangs and sends you with another hard stroke over the edge, licking up the blood from your sweaty, tender skin.

Intensified by the nibbles of his fangs, your orgasm crashes on you with a force beyond belief and you scream his name, voice cracking. Waves of rapture let your walls clench without cease and William groans out loud as the muscles of your core milks him, drawing out his climax instantly. With a few final, deep thrusts he buried himself deep inside you, moaning and shuddering in your arms.

You pass out as your ravaged body still rocks with the afterwaves, your blank mind dragged into a blissful abyss with nothing left in it but him.

It seems to be late in the morning as you slowly open your eyes. Stretching your body you notice that you're alone, William has already left the bed.

Instantly you are aware of the sore feeling in your lower belly and in between your legs. Heat rises up your cheeks as the past night comes to your mind and a pleased sensation runs through you.

'As you regained consciousness again, Shakespeare showered every inch of your form with loving kisses, begging you for forgiveness, that he wasn't able to stop himself, for being so reckless and feral in his desire for you. After you reassured him several times that there was nothing to forgive at all, Will claimed your body over and over in the most tender and affectionate ways until the morning dawned. He took possession of your body and soul while he breathed sweet nothings to your skin, words spoken with so much love and adoration, made you weak and your heart raced.'

With a dreamy expression on your face from those sweet memories, you pull your aching frame out of the bed as you realize that there's nothing left you could wear. William ripped every piece of fabric from your body last night.

Clueless you look around and to your surprise you find one of William's shirts on a chair, neatly folded with a red salvia flower on it. Your heart swells at this thoughtful and sweet gesture.

But how did he find out you love herbal blossoms? You never mentioned it?

After taking a shower you pull his shirt over, inhaling the scent of lavender and sweet sandalwood on it. For sure it is far too long and too big, but you are happy being able to wear it and maybe you can ask William later for pants.

With still damp hair you stepped on your tiptoes through Shakespeare's house, finding him writing at the kitchen table.

Standing quietly in the doorframe you soak up the view, William properly suited, his glance focused on the papers before him, silken strands of his maroon hair falling over his face shining in the sunlight.

You could stand here forever, only watching him. Then you notice he draped all kinds of sweets, fruits and bread on the counter, fresh brewed tea steaming in the pot. When did he manage to get and do all that? Did he even get some sleep?

Suddenly he looks up, giving you a sweet smile.

"There you are, my dearie. Come here."

Standing up William offers you a hand and as you step in to take it, he lets his gaze roam over you. "My my, I have to admit, the shirt suits you." He also takes a step closer, pulling you into his arms.

Listening to his heartbeat, a sigh escapes your lips. "Oh, this feels so good..."

He hums, his hands caressing your back. "Are you feeling well, darling? Didn't I go too hard on you?" he asks, his voice faint and concerned.

"Everything is fine William. Really." You smile at his chest. "To be honest, it was the luckiest night of my life."

Sensing his heavy exhale, you continue "Don't worry, I have a well trained body, I can take a lot."

As you lift your face to meet his eyes, you can see him cocking an eyebrow, giving you a meaningful look.

"Oh, I've been fully aware since last night, my love." A smile curls at the corners of his lips.

Uh, this conversation takes an unexpected steamy turn...

But then he lifts your hand to nuzzle his cheek in it, closing his eyes. "Please forgive me for ruining your beautiful dress. I've already sent a carriage to our dear Comte, to get some of your clothes and dresses. It must be back in a while".

When did he do all that??

"When you are able to suit yourself properly, I'd like to take you out." He kisses your palm softly.

"But the rehearsal? Your play? We should be there soon. The others will be waiting for us..." You frown.

"Oh don't worry about that my muse. Yesterday morning I informed all troupers they'll have a day off today."

You are relieved. But-

Wait - what? Already yesterday morning? You look puzzled, but then ...

"Okay, you've planned the entire thing out, haven't you? How could you tell how it would end?"

Shakespeare looks down, avoiding your eyes for the first time and a faint blush appears on his cheeks.

"I couldn't. "

He inhales sharply. "For certain I wished for a 'happy ending', to say so. A day off would have been delightful in that case, being able to spend some pleasant time together. It happened to end in a way more blissful than I could ever imagine." He cleared his throat. "And for the case I was mistaken, I thought a day off would've been good for my wounded heart to recover." He swallows. "Are you mad at me now?"

Oh, William!

Your vision turns blurry with tears. Blinking them away you throw your arms around his neck. "I am so happy you made it this way, that you forced me to react. I would never be bold enough to confess my love to you, Will. I love you, my heart belongs to you."

He wraps his arms around your body, holding you tight like a lifeline and kisses your temple.

"And mine is yours" he nuzzles his cheek into your hair. "As well as my soul and my love. All of me is yours, always and evermore."

Affectionately William kisses your forehead and you lift your chin. Your lips meet in a sweet kiss and his hands start to travel over your form, abruptly stopping at your hips.

He moves with you, changing the direction and you feel the table behind you.

"May I ask you something, my dear?" He asks at your lips and you only nod in response.

"What are you exactly wearing under my shirt?"

You freeze, feeling your cheeks growing hot.

"N- nothing... there was only this shirt on the chair..." You stutter.

"Hmmm.. hmm.. " he hums in your ear, "and you didn't notice the shortened pants I left for you in the bathroom?"

You- Wait... No you can't remember you saw something like that in the bath.

His hands travel further down to your thighs "Oh what a pity, I gave my best to trim it to your height tis morning..." he murmurs at your ear as his hands grab you to lift your body with a swift move on the table, settling himself between your legs. You gasp and your heart began to race with incredible speed.

"Don't you think you'll deserve a little punishment for your ignorant manner?" he asks, mischievous and yanks his shirt you're wearing completely open.

Your blood rushes through you, skin flushed from excitement and embarrassment at the same time.

With fervent eyes Will takes his time to soak up the sight of you, before he cups your face with a greedy grasp, claiming your lips in a fiery kiss.

His tongue slides inside, exploring and teasing, and you moan into his kiss as his graceful fingers dance over your exposed curves.

You entwine your hands in his silken locks, feeling a familiar pulsing heat rising up between your thighs again.

Pushing your upper body gently down on the table, he breaks the kiss to caress your breasts with his tongue, cupping them roughly with his hands. Your breath is coming in huffs and you close your eyes with a whimper as William bucks his hips against your sex.

Then he let go of your body to take a ribbon out of his shirt pocket.

At first you think he's about to tie his hair up, but he takes your wrists instead, tying them together over your head, up to a candle holder on the wall. Your eyes grow wide and a tremor runs through your form as he watches you intensely, swallowing your reactions.

Lying bare and helpless in front of him, being at the mercy of his hands and burning eyes, let your pleasure and excitement increase into the infinite.

"My goddess, my temptress..." he whispers as his fingertips slide over your chest, "You've robbed me, of all pieces of heart and mind, sweet bandit mine."

Fingertips moving down further to your belly.

You can feel your wetness already dripping out and you're unsure if you should be this aroused, considering the glowing soreness in your core.

The fingertips reach your loins, and a thumb circles ever so slightly over your sweet nub, his gaze filled with feral desire glued to your sex. Crying out, you tear your eyes away, unable to stand his view. Never before had anyone looked at you this way, craving and starving for you.

Kneeling down Shakespeare kisses the inside of your leg up from your knee, while his hands roam up and down the outside of your thighs. His lips stop at the apex of your inner thigh for a second.

"Such a sweet and alluring scent of yours my darling" he purrs at your delicate skin, shifts a bit to give your slit a quick but firm lick up to your sensitive nub.

Moaning out loud you have to resist the urge to close your legs around him.

"All of you is mine, mine alone," he breathes at your sex, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth and tongue travel back to the apex of your inner thigh and William burrows his fangs into your soft skin.

Yelping you buck your hips. At this vulnerable spot it is more painful at first, but the waves of the following, overwhelming pleasure washes your mind away.

You cry out his name and your love for him repetitious as he greedy draws your blood, moaning and grunting at your skin.

Mind slipping you begin to realize what it means to love him and to be loved by William Shakespeare in return, but you are more than willing to take whatever it costs.

Thank you for reading! ♡

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp shakespeare #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp smut #ikemen vampire smut #ikevamp shakespeare x reader #reader insert #ikevamp william

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dreamii-yume · 4 years ago

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I know his birthday is close, but

Cock sucking manipulative senpai Vil

It seems like it's a trend amongst the third year birthday crumbs why stop a nice pattern

Yume’s a kinkii motherfucker, ya’ll know that, right? Darlings? (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Splendid, HOPE YA’LL LIKE SOME DICC MILK ON YOUR CRUMBS HAHA.

“Oh, my...Are you already done?” The hairs on your body stood on its end as soon as you heard Vil’s cold voice. You back straightened up out of instinct as you slowly dragged your mouth off your senior’s still hardened, seemingly unsatisfied dick. Aesthetically pleasing to look at and well-taken care of, exactly what you expect from Vil himself, but was extremely difficult to please. You started wondering if you’re really cut out for this job, or why you’re even here in the first place. “That’s quite the boring performance you gave me there, Darling.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, grimacing at the lingering taste of his precum on your tongue. You didn’t know how many times Vil had told you to suck him off over and over again, but just by the milky white substance dripping down your jaw and probably some in your hair as well since they feel so damped, you guessed it’s been quite a while. “...I-I just can’t, anymore...” His harsh criticism struck a nerve in your feeble little heart, mocking you for doing a terrible job on something that you weren’t really an expert on doing.

Embarrassment filled your core as you began wanting more than to stood up from where you were placed and walk away, but you can’t. Not when your hands are bounded tightly behind your back like this, your shaking knees can’t even carry you more than five meters away. They were but an incredibly soft strings of fabric, yet shows no signs of loosening up no matter how much you struggle against it. Obviously, it was something that Vil purposely chose himself, since the traditional ropes would’ve caused unwanted abrasions on your skin.

Despite knowing that however, you instinctively tugged on your restraints as some sort of defense mechanism against Vil’s condescending glare. “...I-I did what you asked, r-right...? Multiple times, actually…Surely, you must be satisfied no-“

“You must be so full of yourself to think something as pathetic as that can ever satisfy me.” You flinched as Vil raised his voice as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned closer to your face, enough to see your frightened expression. “Do tell me, what part of that was satisfying, huh?”

“You’re too dependent on your hands, so I binded them away. I was hoping that by doing that, you’d make the effort to do better with just your mouth, but all you gave me was disappointment, Dear.” He spoke without hesitation, drilling onto your head your flaws and imperfections. “Why do you shy away from using your tongue, I wonder? You should have the natural talent, and yet you barely used it at all. Don’t you see how wasteful you’re being right now?”

He gave out an exasperated sigh, having the audacity to act like he’s the one having the hardest time and not you. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you never swallow either.” He scowled. “You try to distract me by holding my seed inside your mouth like a chipmunk, but in the end, you spit them right back out. How rude.”

“T-That’s...” You tried to defend yourself, but stopped when he let go of your hair, patting them a bit to flatten some strands that’s been sticking out.

“Enough, it’s fine. I don’t need your excuses.” He said as his hand reached for something on a nearby desk, giving you a mesmerizing view on how long they really are. However, upon glancing down at you and seeing your pitiful expression, eyebrows scrunched up together and in the verge of tears, his eyes did soften up a bit. “...But I understand, you’re still my adorable little potato right now so, I don’t expect you to reach a professional level any time soon.”

You heard him giggle, which caught your attention and looked up at him, only to see an amused smirk formed in his lips. “So, I’ll just have to train you more until then.” He said, licking his lips seductively as you widened your eyes once you saw that particular item in his hand. “Be grateful, Honey.”

Once he saw you starting to recoil back nervously despite your restrictions, Vil grabbed you by the back of the head. “...You’ll do that for me, right? After all, it is my special day.” He cunningly whispered out as he revealed his special item close to you; a mouth-opening device. You let out incomprehensible, protesting noises as he forcibly clanked them onto your mouth, attaching them from the back of your head until it gave a satisfying click as a lock. Your jaw tightened, not used to having your gums pried open this far wide.

Content with being on his two legs alone, Vil chuckled down at you, who looked back at him fearfully. You tried to talk to him, to try and beg your way out of this, only to end up releasing panicked meekly sounds as drool began to drip down your jaw. “How adorable, keep making sounds like that and I might end up confusing you for a livestock that’s about to be slaughtered.” He mocked as he grabbed both the sides of your head as soon as you started shaking your head in defiance. “...You’re completely at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Open your teeth for me.” His dominating voice demanded, making your body weaker than it already is. His sharp glare didn’t leave your teeth clattering against each other for too long, you soon opened a trembling entrance for his excited dick to pass through. He chuckled at your obedience, despite the hesitance and sense of unwillingness expressed through your actions. “...That’s a good girl.”

You let out one last squeal as he wasted no time in practically shoving his whole shaft inside your awaiting mouth hole. Closing your eyes shut, you desperately tried to ignore your activating gag reflex as you felt him rub against the roof of your mouth. He was long and thick enough to have you chocking as he hit the back of your throat. You already had many instances where Vil ‘trains’ you to take him more confidently like this, but you just don’t believe that this was something that you can get used to in a short-time period. But you were sure he’d be disappointed again if you don’t try your best though and you didn’t want to start over again.

Vil sighed slightly as you nervously began to use your tongue to increase his pleasure in-take, hoping that coating him with your own saliva could make his thrusts a little less rough. Thankfully, it seemed like it was the correct decision to make as you practically heard him give out a smirk, his hands staying on your head as he moved his hips back and forth. Gurgled sounds came out of you as he repeatedly knocked on the back of your throat, saliva already slipping out of your strained lips. “...That’s right, you’re doing better now than before, you learn fast too…I like this part of you, it’s endearing.” Vil praised you as a way to encourage you on your efforts even more. “See? I knew you had this in you.”

Giggling, his thrusts began to transitioned in a more fast-paced, harsh kind of way all the while grabbing a fistful of your hair as a lever. Your teeth grazed against the base of his cock, sending shivers of pleasure in Vil’s system that could drive any man crazy. Luckily, his self-control isn’t all that weak-willed, though that’s not to say that he didn’t want it. He could at least say that it was addicting, some kind of pleasure button that he wanted to abuse constantly and bring himself to cum just by your salivating mouth alone. But he had stamina and he could go on forever if he so desired, forever locked onto the warmth of your mouth without necessarily cumming.

However, despite all of that, Vil knew better not to take too much advantage of his new-found enjoyment that it is your mouth hole. It’s not fun to play with a broken toy after all, you’re a pretty little thing too so that would be too wasteful. “I think it’s about time, Love.” Vil whispered, but you only ended up squealing in surprise with your eyes going as wide as saucers as he buried himself inside you in suffocating manner. “Make sure to take it all in, okay?”

Inhaling through your nose, you gasped out a choke as you felt his hot, thick semen exploding from inside your mouth. It filled up space really quick, since there wasn’t really any to begin with and slipped down your jaw. Most importantly, you felt the stream-like substance flowing down your throat and into to your esophagus, filling your stomach up without even trying. You whimpered once you realized that his ejaculation period had finally stopped after a while, but he kept a strong hold against the back of your head. “No, I’m not gonna pull out yet.” Vil strictly said, staring down at your teary, begging eyes. “I did say to take it all in, right? As long as there’s still cum that you have yet to swallow, I’m not pulling out.”

His eyes were testing you, mocking you to do better for yourself but you knew deep down that no matter what you do, he’ll still get the upper hand regardless. Still, you couldn’t just hang around bounded in the floor like this with his twitching dick in your mouth, your jaw is killing you. So, with a heavy heart, you tried to swallow what was left inside your mouth, even going as far as licking the head of his dick to rid it off some remaining semen. You felt disgusting, like you’ve really downgraded yourself into a sex slave, a pig, only for Vil’s personal use. You’re not quite sure on how to get out of this predicament afterwards, or even if it’s possible to do so.

As if he already knew that his dick was licked clean and cum completely swallowed by you, he slowly pulled out, dragging your saliva in a messy fashion. A thin bridge of it was connected to the head, a clear evidence that you even tried licking him off and it really stirred the embarrassment in the bottom of your stomach. You whimpered as he even had the audacity to place his wet dick on your cheek, dragging some disgusting fluids across your skin by practically slapping you with it. Soon, you heard Vil chuckle and flinched as it turned into a full-blown laughter, like a wicked queen when her everything goes according to her plan. He placed a hand on your head, patting you like a pet for a job well-done.

“Haa...That was amazing, Honey. You certainly made my day, thank you.” He said with a smile, surprisingly not a mocking one or a smirk for that matter but a genuine grateful smile. It made your stomach churn to see he could still smile like that despite what he just made you do. “Now, it’s just common sense to give you a well-deserved reward now, right? You’ve done such a good job after all~!”

He then pulled away from you, giving you a sense of relief that everything was over, that you don’t have to do any more humiliating things but...It was odd, if his so-called ‘training’ is already over, why was he not releasing you out of your binds? Your jaw is cramping from your mouth being spread open like this that it was really starting to hurt real bad. Somehow, you didn’t like where this ‘reward’ was gonna go.

Vil came back with a generous slice of his own birthday cake, carefully cut with its beautiful edible decorations still in-tact. There weren’t a single crumb on the plate, suggesting how clean the slice really was. He was smiling and you thought you saw his cheeks pinker than usual, but that could just be his make up like always. It’s kinda out of place and bizarre to see him getting flustered now of all times anyway. With a fork, he cut a piece of cake and slowly brought it close to you.

“Say ‘aah’, Darling.” You were confused at first, not trusting his all of a sudden act of kindness. He still has the mouth-opener clasped onto your gums; how does he expect you to eat that? However, just when you thought to give up trying to make sense of the situation and actually lean closer to let the delicious piece of cake enter your open mouth, Vil stopped. “Oh—“

You flinched as his eyes focused on your jaw and you panicked, wondering what it is. He then smiled eventually, but one that is clearly laced with mischief. “...You missed a spot.” He said, as his long finger traced over a line from your jaw to the one side of your lips. Lifting up his finger in front of you showed a small, yet thick bits of cum that escaped you earlier. “You shouldn’t waste such nourishment, Darling~”

Then, to your utmost shock and disgust, he scraped off the semen on the piece of cake that he was about to feed you. It joined along the other ingredients of the food in a scarily well manner, as if that tinge of white had already been one of the decorations from the start. You were left speechless, but Vil only smirked at your reaction, seemingly finding extreme enjoyment in your cute shocked face. “Alright...” You flinched, physically retracting away but can’t really go any far than you already are now as he brought the fork closer to your open mouth. “I’ll say it again.”

“Say ‘Aah’~”

Is it obvious? IS IT OBVIOUS that Euphoria is affecting the way I’m writing right now? Because YES, it is affecting me so bad OMG— I need to get it out of my system because I can just TELL that this will affect me in the future too lol

Vil reminded me of Nemu and I’m— *sob* I thought I was sinful, but Euphoria is traumatizing—

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere #Birthday Crumbs (Vil)

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cosmicjoke · 3 years ago

Text

Ah, and now onto one of the most depressing chapters in all of SnK, chapter 132.

You know, if anyone ever needed a reason to despise Floch any more, how about the fact that he’s literally the reason Hange died? If this bitch ass ho hadn’t shot the fuel tank of the plane full of holes, Hange wouldn’t have had to engage with the Titans to buy time for them to fix it, and they wouldn’t have died. So, fuck you Floch. I wish you’d suffered more before Mikasa finally ended your ass.

Well, anyway, what can I say about this chapter that hasn’t already been discussed? Probably nothing, but I’ll try my best to give my observations anyway.

This really is Hange’s chapter, and Levi’s, in terms of putting a spot light on the importance of their relationship to one another.

Hange’s sacrifice in this chapter is heartbreaking, it truly is, and such a major blow to everyone. But to Levi most of all, and for so many reasons.

First of all, what stands out to me is the exchange between them, after Pieck tells Hange to stop being “gross”. What I want to talk about here is when Hange asks Levi if he thinks their dead comrades are watching, and if he thinks they’ll be proud of what they do here today. Levi tells Hange to stop talking like “him”, meaning of course Erwin. This scene is just heart-wrenching, and part of that is, I think, because of Levi’s reaction to what Hange is saying. He has, once again, such a weary, resigned looked on his face, and it’s because, I think, of the parallels he sees with Erwin. I think Levi already knows, at this point, that Hange is going to die, in some way. He recognizes the same, fatalistic bent to Hange’s mindset as he saw in Erwin, that day in Shinganshina, the same burden of guilt. Just as Erwin began to bow and break under the weight of all the lives that had been lost under his command, Hange too is beginning to break, overcome by despair and hopelessness at what they perceive to be their failures. Hange expresses this outright in the scene with Yelena, when Yelena tries forcing everyone to admit that Zeke was right, and Hange just resignedly agrees, saying that it was because of their failure to come up with a plan, because of their loss of hope, that Eren’s done what he has. Of course, this isn’t true, just like Erwin blaming himself for the deaths of all those soldiers wasn’t based in any kind of truth. But the sense of guilt is the same. Hange blames themselves for what’s happening now, and they say this in front of everyone, including Levi. And then Hange says what they do to Levi, about their dead comrades, and I think this must have been like the worst kind of deja vu to Levi, this kind of guilt driving Hange towards despair and hopelessness. He tells Hange “Don’t you start talking like him, too...” because he can’t bear it. He can’t bear to see his last, true friend succumb to the same fate as Erwin.

And then the Rumbling shows up, and Hange refuses for anyone else to engage with the Titans but themselves. They tell everyone “I’m the one who led us here. I pressed on, even at the cost of so many lives. Time to face the music.”, and it’s Hange willingly taking on the role of martyr, the same one Levi had to help Erwin to accept for himself, in order to give their comrades a chance at victory. Hange’s selflessness here is the definition of heroic. True, unwavering conviction to what they believe is right.

But once again, similarly to Levi’s final push to help Erwin become the commander everyone believed him to be, Levi recognizes for Hange, in their final moment together, what it is they need. He doesn’t try to stop Hange, doesn’t try to convince them against their chosen course of action, doesn’t cry out after them. The same way Levi recognized in Erwin the way he was being crushed under the weight of his guilt, and understood how it would be a mercy and a salvation to make for him the decision to let go of his dream and die, Levi also recognizes in Hange that same burden and suffocating sense of guilt, and knows this is a decision Hange has made for themselves, their final absolution and ownership of their past choices, and that this is the thing Hange needs to relieve them of their burden. A way for them to bear the burden of their past choices without regret. Hange implores Levi to let them walk away and do this, and Levi does, because he understands, the same as he understood with Erwin.

But we finally see in full view the consequences for Levi in making these decisions, in letting his two, closest friends go to their deaths for the sake of their cause. Levi’s expression in the following three panels is one of such unfathomable heartbreak. He looks like a man utterly resigned to losing every good thing in his life, conscious and accepting of life’s bitter injustice and the grief of loss, but no less affected by it. Levi is in so much obvious pain here. Not physical (though obviously there’s that), but emotional and mental. Hange is it for him. They’re his last, real connection, his last, true friend, his last person. And he has to let them go here. Both for the sake of humanity, and for Hange’s own sake as well. It truly is the bitterest pill to swallow. And once again, it is a desperately heartbreaking display of Levi’s own selflessness, that he lets Hange go, that he lets Hange do this thing that needs to be done, without complaint, without protest, without influence from his own feelings, sacrificing once more what would be best for him for the sake of everyone else. Levi looks devastated as he lays his fist against Hange’s chest and tells them “dedicate your heart”. This final acceptance of his own, tragic loss, and Hange’s own choice to sacrifice their life.

And it continues when Hange flies away, at last, and we see Levi standing with the rest of their group. Everyone around Levi has expressions of shock, dismay, and disbelief. They haven’t yet accepted that this is happening, that Hange is flying to their death to buy them the time they need. They look astonished and horrified. But Levi is the lone exception. He doesn’t look shocked, or disbelieving, but only continues to carry that same expression of weary, despairing resignation and acceptance. And I think what we see in Levi, in this final arc is, in many ways, the culmination of a lifetime of loss and grief. Levi’s lost more than probably any other character in SnK. He’s experienced the most extreme forms of poverty and depravation from the time he was born, and with the death of Hange, has now lost every, single person that he ever formed any kind of close bond with. With Hange’s death, Levi is left finally, completely alone. And the look of defeat on Levi’s face throughout this entire arc is, I think, reflective of the affirmation he must feel, of the cruelty and injustice of life’s indifference to the suffering of everyone. Every experience in Levi’s life has driven home to him the lesson, again and again, of the unfairness and cruelty of existing in this world. And the events of this final arc, Eren’s betrayal, Zeke’s manipulations and cruelties, the deaths of so many comrades, the Rumbling, violence and destruction and allies turning against one another, and finally, Hange’s death, can only solidify for him the hopeless cynicism he’s fought against all his life, the awful comprehension of life’s brutality. With Hange’s death, Levi is made to face once more what he’s always, deep down, known, which is that to exist in this world is to suffer with no purpose.

And yet, still, Levi fights on. He accepts Hange’s death with all the pain the loss crushes him down with. He tells Hange goodbye, and asks them to “Just watch us.”. Because even with the affirmation of all of Levi’s greatest despairs, he still finds a reason to make the fight worth it. To realize the dream they all fought for, the salvation and future of humanity, and through the realization of that dream, to give meaning and importance to the lives of all those who have died in that dreams name, and meaning and importance to the lives of those yet still there. Levi refuses, still, to give up, refuses to accept the futility and insignificance of people’s lives, even as he’s so ruthlessly reminded again and again of it. And it’s in Hange, I think, that Levi finds that strength. Because Hange also refused to give up. Like they told Floch as he bled out, “We still can’t give up. Even if we fail here, now, maybe someday...” Maybe someday, life really will get better. Maybe someday, people won’t have to suffer so much. Maybe someday, there really will be a point to all of it. Even in the face of total despair, Hange and Levi both found reasons to keep fighting.

Also, just some smaller observations about Levi’s physical state, and what it also says about his determination to not give up, but also about his perception of himself.

Levi is doing BAD here. I didn’t notice this on my first read through, but when they’re all gearing up with their ODM gear, Levi is the only one sitting down on a crate, while everyone else is standing. We see earlier in the chapter, when he leaves his room on the boat, he can’t even stand without the support of a handrail on the upper deck, or Armin’s arm around his shoulders. And then when we see him testing his grip on the handle of his ODM’s blade, his hand is visibly shaking. Levi’s physically too weak to stand on his own at this point, too weak to even hold his blades steady. He must be in absolutely horrific pain. Probably dizzy and lightheaded, probably nauseas even. He’s FAILING physically. On the verge, it seems, of collapse. The fact that he’s even up and making the effort to move is something of a miracle, let alone that he’s prepared to engage in intense, physical combat, which just a short time later, he DOES. That’s remarkable, and such a testament to Levi’s incredible will and unwavering conviction to fight for humanity. He’s dying. I think literally, he’s extremely close to death, genuinely frail. But he still is ready and willing to give his all. I think, over the course of the few chapters before this one, it must have been horrifically hard for Levi to sit by and watch as everyone else risked their lives to fight. This isn’t something Levi is used to, being helpless and unable to fight for others. He isn’t used to letting others take the risk while he stays back. When Levi comes out of his cabin and Armin tries to convince him to go back to bed, Levi snaps with impatience that if he keeps resting, they’re all going to forget he even exists. This reveals a lot about Levi’s perception of himself as someone who needs to make himself useful in order to matter. As a tool to utilize. He feels useless and like dead weight if he isn’t able to fight, and so, even on deaths door, he pushes himself to do just that, to become a weapon to be used in the coming battle. It’s heartbreaking, to see Levi regard himself this way, even as it proves his incredible devotion and heart. Once again, his own well being takes a backseat to the cause of others. His health is secondary, in his mind. For someone who always shows so much compassion and kindness and understanding for others, it makes it doubly heartbreaking, to see that Levi can’t manage the same compassion for himself, can’t give himself a break, or a pass for his weakness. That he can’t allow himself that vulnerability, or for others to fight for him, even as all his life, he’s done nothing but fight for others.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #hange zöe #snk 132 #meta #thoughts

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

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Oh master, plez, DRAGON WARRIOR BAKUGO, my lord! I was thinking, if you please, a darling who is like clairvoyant, and that's why King bakugo needs her??? can you make it dark ;3 like like like whatever means necessary dark, like like like ill murder anyone who gets in my way, also also also it being really grotesque, I want merciless bakugo, BUT also kinda sweet when it comes to darling?? I don't know what exactly I want, but I know whatever you write I'll prob enjoy, Master Nightmare :3

DRAGON ! WARRIOR ! KING BAKUGO KATSUKI x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: abuse, violence, genocide, kidnapping, abduction, death, blood, murder, ableism, classism, anxiety, arson, narcissistic personality disorder, slavery, trauma, war

so, a little foreword, the darling in this story has a quirk (ik, I’m breaking my beliefs thinking Bakugo should have a quirkless reader! The insanity!) but it’s because in this au not it’s quite special to have a quirk. Quirks are achieved and not given so to say. So Katsuki has earned his quirk and reader has earned her quirk, and so has everyone else who has a quirk. Also the song is called “If I Had a Heart” by Fever Ray, it’s the theme song to vikings ironically haha.

PART TWO

MUTE AND NUDE

The King was in her village.

Word from the south spread quickly, like any wildfire would, especially when riding the wings of a dragon. The Kingdom’s seer was dead, and the almighty bruise-knuckled King required a new one. They called it misfortune, but give a child a toy, and the toy is destined to break. Some might say that that’s what they’re made for. The old toy had apparently done something so distasteful that it cost her own tongue. Unfortunately, or perhaps ironically the only thing she was useful for: on her knees, mouth open, worshipping her king.

She counted the smoke rising to the sky near the horizon. Hers would be the thirteenth village they came to, lest their quest was done. She thought she might have seen him in the cloud-coverage. Eerie shadows resembling what bats she found in the caves, but the sun was bright and could easily be mistaken for him, or the other way around, as she’s heard his coat is golden.

She heard the rumbling tumbling of hooves and paws and claws riding up the mountain-side. They were coming.

Their houses were made of rock, sturdy as they should be when placed on a mountain-top with constant winds howling at them, and handled the fire well. But people aren’t made of stone. The smell of burning flesh is awful, and though she had nothing to puke, she barfed nonetheless. People were screaming and she probably would have too if she could, she was most certainly crying and bleeding and heaving for breath like those unlucky others that were still left alive.

High mountains are a bleak habitat for animal life, partially why they lived up there: to be spared of being hunted, to escape fangs and claws. And now: people running for their lives, the aching in her ankles, a body not built for running, and a mind not used to being hunted. Yet, it was strange but, it wasn’t really foreign at all.

She’d been dreaming of things lately, and as death as well as dust and ash and blood settled and seeped into the mud around her, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d seen it all before. In fact, there came a point in the middle of the fray she was certain she was dreaming as she stopped to eye the great golden mass in front of her. Scales sharp and silvery like mica on the mountainside, ruby-red eyes as though soaked with blood. Teeth long and sturdy like the jagged rocks of the tunnels, dripping not with water as they did in the caves but with blood and guts and torn clothes. And the talons, curved and shiny, black as night, digging into the gravel by his feet, treating the soil as though it were as thin as the air. But the wings… the wings are what had her falling to her knees, skin bitten by gravel. Greater then roofs, sweeping the sky as though he could pluck each and every star from the welkin, stud himself with them if he so wanted to, or swallow them if only to breath the light onto earth. He could shred trees with those wings, he could slice oceans apart, he could probably part the mountain, head in the heavens and roots with hell, the bridge that had stood for thousands of years, singlehandedly torn open by that great monster conquering both sky and earth as though they gave him life.

Her arm was bleeding. It had dentures, no… puncture wounds it seemed the more she looked. A pretty crescent moon of red marking deep into the soft tissue of her meager muscles, dripping onto the dirt, creating streaks in the mud caking her bare feet. She looked up to see a wolf turn into a man, a large man with spikes for hair, red but not the same red she’d seen earlier in those eyes, red like poppies far away from the red flowing in her veins, from what was leaking out of her arm.

She looked forward and saw bodies… no, not bodies… mangled mockeries of the human form strewn about her as though they were trampled wildflowers on a field. She looked to her side and saw her reflection in the faces of those she’d grown up with but never truly knew. She looked behind her, not spotting what abomination of life she’d seen earlier, the one painting the sky, the one eclipsing the sun.

Every young, pretty thing was lined up on a row that stretched about ten meters long as they weren’t that many in her village, and she was surprised to be one of them. The auditions began in the early left side of the fray, boys and girl shaking on unsteady knees, holding onto broken arms and gushing wounds. Her bitemark was begging for a fist around it too, but she had not the focus to indulge the wish as her eyes caught sight of a blot of gold contrasting the otherwise grey figures, it being clear who he was despite having altered form. Although not the tallest in stature, one could see it as clear as day, he towered over the rest of the flock.

The tones ripped from their throats were scratchy, untuned; garbage. It would seem none of the kids in the village were gifted, but if the Gods were of mercy they would grant them the vocal cords to survive the night. She couldn’t blame them for allowing their fear to taint their song. Seeing how the drapes in which the hooded figures dressed were soaked in blood from past failures. Knowing well how their weapons would breach flesh and bone were they not of any use to them.

If she had a voice she would use it for speaking and not for singing. This would probably be her last night.

They rushed through the girls and boys rather quickly. Swiftly; as if they had done it countless times before, as if they could decide by the first utterance of their very first tone, that they were a disappointment, that they were as good as dead.

Caught in the middle of the small gathering; her turn came along. The man, standing in front, had purple hair and a nasty scar on his face, adorned with bladed eyes like a cat. Another blade, a steel blade, was held at her throat. Unnecessary, as the brutal scarring of his arms was intimidating enough for her to understand she could survive nothing compared to what he had already lived through. “Sing.” He commanded abruptly, an atmosphere of force settled on the word, as though compelling her, quite like how the wind shakes the trees in command to dance for them.

She did her hand gestures as smooth as she could under the pressure, lips remaining closed.

He threw his eyebrows up, scar shifting in its place like a serpent, the message had clearly gotten across. A condescending smile, a most sinister snicker and an unfortunate scoff was all the sympathy he allowed her. “No voice?” It wasn’t a question. “What a meaningless life.” He stated in a mutter, before moving onto the next girl.

The golden figure, who had followed discreetly, didn’t continue on with the scarred boy, he instead planted his clawedfeet in front of the girl, threatening to crush her barefooted toes, sinking into the red clay of the town square. “Sing.” His voice was fuller, and because of it she didn’t dare look up.

The scarred boy came to a halt, looking back to watch the girl repeat the hand gestures once again, she thinking that maybe the scarred boy had blocked the view the first time.

“No excuses.” His foot shifted in the mud, talons somehow growing longer as they impaled the ground, indicated he leant in closer. “Sing.” He said again, the sharpness of the demand sending a shiver to travel down her spine as it was accompanied with a growl too much like the sound of thunder to be called human. The girl furrowed her brows and looked up, her bottom lip visible quaking. Yet, what looked at her was no dragon, no… it was a man, a boy. And his skin was not golden like the rarity found in the mountain halls, but tan like sand, and his hair was only a shade lighter, nothing alike the mane of the sun. But those eyes had her quaking, those sharp slitted eyes that seemed to hold her soul in a chokehold, full of cultivated knowledge, merciless, red like wine, red like blood, red like hell. What’s a fate worse than death? She wondered and swallowed at the thought, her breathing picking up its pace. “Sing!” Spit flew to her face like venom with the roar, the tone reverberating through the ground, shaking in her knees.

She felt the itch in her throat, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been feeling it more and more lately, the feeling of dead born words somehow washing away. Her whimpers, absent of anything except for breathiness before, now carrying a somewhat lilt of tone. She stared a little deeper into those blood-soaked orbs of the man that looked like the onset of death before her.

“If I had heart.”

The wind roared as if it were as surprised as she was, or perhaps it rejoiced, or perhaps it mourned.

She was silent, the wind crashing and flailing, whipping the rags of her dress, letting the ripped fabric lick her dirty and bruised legs, pulling the disheveled locks of hair out from her face. Eyes; terror-wide, looking into a pair of sharp ones, who seemed to be looking beyond her disheveled state, into something far more divine than she had ever seen, ever known. “Continue.” The red-eyed boy commanded firmly, a detectable form of lust in his voice.

Startled, feeling the gravel dig into her soles. “I would love you... if I had a voice, I would sing.” The people on either side of her looked to be even more distressed now, crying and screaming, looking like wraiths in those charcoaled rags they wore, hands covering their ears as though to protect themselves, terrified as they looked to the sky expecting it to come falling down upon them.

However, their insolence and disrespect wasn’t what angered him, he could allow them that much before he took their lives. But the conflict found in her voice, that’s what truly boiled beneath his skin. He reached out his hand, quick like a viper, the pressure in his fingertips simmering on her skin, sizzling with heat, only for him to dig his fingernails into her throat as well. “Forget everything you know, except for that your life is in the palm of my hand.” He said, securing her gaze, lifting her up to her tippy-toes, though still nowhere near leveling his height.

Awakened by his words and frightened to her bones by the searing look of his eyes, she did as she was told and forgot who she was, forgot what she was and gave into simply doing exactly what needed to be done to keep her alive, to keep what beast in front of her subdued, or perhaps also to satiate what fire seemed to have burst to life inside of her, screaming to be heard. “After the night, when I wake up, I’ll see what tomorrow brings.” Eyes glazed over by some infernal light. She roared, a howl of some sorts, and the trees seemed to shiver and shake in the outmost reverence. “More, give me more, give me more.”

Somehow the leaves stopped rustling at the sound of her abrupt finish. Overwhelmed; all she could do was breath, all she could to was quake, the wind making the tears ever present on her face, the blood of her arm drying and awakened again as new blood came gushing out of her wounds.

The swirling dramatics in his eyes died down into a calm yet eerie content look. “Found you.” He stated, taking his time for the awakening to soak in, bask in the glorious feeling of triumph, before breaking focus from her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Burn the village.” The statement left her blood turning cold. “There’s nothing left for us here. Dispose of the disappointments.” He was quick with his words as though they had been said many times before, and the actions performed by the ones in grey were just as swift, just as merciless. Humans turning into monsters murdering humans.

“No!” She wasn’t aware the voice belonged to her, so many years gone by without being able to voice anything; an opinion; nothing more than a foreigner, let alone an objection.

The people beside her dropped to the floor like rag dolls nonetheless, her voice just as insignificant as if she was still voiceless, drowning in their own bloodied throats. Her throat didn’t match theirs, but had strong, calloused fingers wrapped around it instead, coated with blood, the stench of it becoming so familiar yet far from friendly.

“Forget them, they don’t matter.” His voice still sheer, despite the screams around them both, overwhelming in fact. She felt her mind slip away from her then, as though her sentience was squeezed out from her by the deadlock fist wrapped around her neck, a conquering drowsiness following, seeping into her like the crawling of darkness when the sun settles on the horizon, her vision blurring everything except for those red, red eyes, who; from this point until her death, would never leave her.

PART TWO

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shig-a-shig-ah · 4 years ago

Note

Please I'm on my hands and knees begging for some kind of angst/comfort or whatever sequel to Solace what do I have to pay to see it at last

You know what, anon? Fuck it—ask and you shall receive.

DISCOMFIT ━ PART 2 OF SOLACE

» pairing: dabi x fem!reader, previous shigaraki tomura x reader

» cw: noncon, free use (mostly implied/referenced), implied anal, mentions of cheating, little bit of comfort, whole lot of angst. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: This picks up exactly where Solace left off, and isn’t exactly canon-compliant because the war arc hadn’t ended when I first posted Solace. It’s also more angsty than smutty, but def still NSFW. As always, reblogs, replies, etc. are welcome <3

» wc: 5.3k

» ao3 mirror

Like my work? Support me on Ko-fi or request a commission.

There's lead in Dabi's stomach as Shigaraki drags you towards the door, and he's already scrambling to tug on his sweats, staggering to his feet as though he could effectively intervene. He'd heard the threats hissed in your ear, the ones scattered among the taunts Dabi had tried so hard to counter with his own exaltations, but he hadn't been prepared for them to be genuine, had thought that in the end Shigaraki would view your shame as his own. That he wouldn't want to make this betrayal public, not really.

Apparently, Dabi was wrong.

When you're hauled across the threshold, he falters. The thought of your imminent defilement is enough to make him feel sick, bile rising at the back of his throat as his gut twists; he doesn't think he could bear to witness such a desecration. But in the end he also doesn't have a choice—Shigaraki pauses in the doorway, his vicious gaze fixing on Dabi as he gives the order. "You're coming too."

Dabi's throat tightens, because he knows there's no use trying to oppose Shigaraki's will, not with his newfound power. And there's no clemency in the man's burning red eyes, no hints that Tomura has doubts about his chosen retribution, nothing at all to give Dabi hope that perhaps the pale-haired man can be dissuaded from this corrective action.

So Dabi swallows back that bitter taste in his mouth, and he follows.

***

Your heart is in your throat as you're dragged into the hall for the second time, only vaguely aware of Dabi trailing behind, failing to interfere though you don't blame him for that, could never condemn him when this is so much more your fault than his. Had you ever really thought you could gladden yourself with Dabi's comfort and then return unscathed to Shigaraki's arms?

You're loud at first, and desperate. You rake at Tomura's forearm as you try to free yourself from his bruising grip, clawing until red droplets are blooming from the scratches on his skin and his flesh collects beneath your nails, but those marks knit themselves back together almost as quickly as you carve them in. Your feet scrabble ineffectually against the carpet too, trying to slow Tomura's movements, but all that accomplishes is friction burns when you stumble, collapsing to your knees even as Shigaraki continues his unyielding march, dragging you along without so much as a backwards glance.

You beg shamelessly again too, pleading with him to stop, to not, to simply let you go. You swear that you'll leave, that he'll never have to see you again, but he ignores those cries just as he does your pathetic attempts to grapple yourself free. It isn't until your implorations grow quieter, more disheartened, that he pauses—you're weeping, not even thinking about what you're saying, rash words falling from your lips. "Tomu, please, I'm sorry, it was a mistake. Please, if you ever cared about me, just let me go."

It's then that he freezes in place, every muscle in his body going rigid, the cords in his neck standing out as he whirls around to face you. His eyes are impossibly wide, his mouth twisted in disgust, and something dark flashes behind his expression, something that, but for a moment, makes him look wounded rather than filled with rage. It's gone almost as soon as it comes, replaced by an expression stonier than any he's fixed you with thus far. He spits his retort through gritted teeth, his tone so tight and glacial that it sends a shiver down your exposed spine.

"Who could ever care about a whore like you?"

***

Dabi can see you struggling, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as you beg, but he hears none of those supplications, hears nothing but blood rushing in his ears and the wet glug of his throat every time he tries to swallow down the lump that has lodged itself there. Just moving forward consumes all his focus; this sprawling mansion may as well extend for miles for all the effort it takes him to continue putting one foot in front of the other as Shigaraki tows you down the hall.

Your grotesque procession ends in the cavernous ballroom on the ground floor. It's ornate even in its empty glory, sunlight streaming through the tall, arched windows and glinting off the crystal of the chandelier that hangs unlit from the ceiling. Dozens of observers trail behind, every inquiring mind that had peered out to investigate the commotion now obeying Shigaraki's commands for them to follow. They're watching warily, whispering behind their hands as their eyes flick curiously from Dabi, shirtless and shaking, to Shigaraki and you.

Dabi comes back into himself when Shigaraki hurls you unceremoniously to the floor, the sharp crack of your head against the hardwood echoing loudly enough to breach the disassociated haze in which he's been trapped. The sight of your face, dazed by the blow, has him instinctually moving forward, but he's stopped at once when a chiseled arm casts itself across his chest, halting his movements. A low growl issues from the back of Shigaraki's throat. "Don't."

It was easier not to protest Shigaraki's rough treatment of you when the three of you were alone in Dabi's bedroom. He'd been able to convince himself then that Shigaraki had some claim on you, some right to do what he was doing, a sense that had been given all the more weight by your own equivocal response to those harsh touches. But the sight of you now, curled on the floor clutching your head, your legs tucked to your chest as though that could somehow preserve your modesty, is harder to abide. It has heat roiling under Dabi's skin, his insides near-roasting as he does his best to restrain himself, to keep emotions too tumultuous to define from bubbling up and setting him alight.

So Dabi looks away. He does his best to tamp down on that growing heat and to endure, to think about the importance of being there for you. After.

Even after Tomura extends his sadistic invitation to the assembled remnants of the Paranormal Liberation Front, Dabi is naive enough at first to hope that no one will take the bait, that even a crowd of villains won't be depraved enough to indulge in what Shigaraki is offering. Except, Dabi had, hadn't he? Had found his own satisfaction in the first part of Shigaraki's punishment, even as you'd wept. He tries to tell himself that was different—he'd already had you, more than once and voluntarily, and you'd asked for him, implored him so desperately that he couldn't have refused, especially not when it was something Shigaraki had been so intent on enacting.

A darker thought flits across the back of Dabi's mind when he remembers the way you'd writhed under Tomura's domineering touch: if Shigaraki insists on it, will you beg here too?

It's a question that goes unanswered. You spend less than a minute sniffling on the floor surrounded by that mob of villains, and then Dabi's glancing up against his better judgement to see Re-Destro stepping forward, dark eyes glinting with curiosity as he shrugs off his suit jacket and loosens his tie, the balding sycophant unabashedly eager to avail himself of Shigaraki's sloppy seconds.

All your struggling has ceased; you're not trying to leave or asking for help, or mercy. Dabi's not sure if you're still trying to please Shigaraki or are only clinging to some last shred of dignity, if he should be disgusted or proud. Still, you flinch when the redhead crouches to trace one large hand up the outside of your thigh, and that small sign of discomfort is enough to have Dabi moving without thinking, every fiber of his body screaming out to defend you from that unwanted touch. But he only manages one feeble step forward before Shigaraki's hand is curling in his hair, yanking him back so hard that Dabi's scalp throbs. Shigaraki maintains that tight hold, leaving Dabi immobilized and with no choice left but to keep staring forward.

"You're going to watch every second," Shigaraki hisses.

Dabi nods. Grinds his teeth. Watches.

***

He thinks nothing could be worse than the powerlessness he feels as Re-Destro takes you. It's a sense of impotence that settles in his bones, that unearths and amplifies every inadequacy he endured in his youth until his knees are weak and there's blood leaking from the corners of his eyes. Just like back then, he's too weak to do what is needed. He can only watch in dismay as someone slots themselves into a role that should be his.

He's wrong, of course, that nothing could be more horrible than witnessing that first act. It's worse when he starts to notice the familiar tensing in your body, and hears your high-keyed whines reverberating off of walls designed to carry just such a pitch. It's worse when he spies Skeptic with that camera trained on you, documenting your disgrace as he palms himself through his pants, and even worse when Spinner comes forward, casting a long, uncertain glance towards Shigaraki before burying himself in both your holes. It's worse when they stop taking orderly turns coupling with your pliant form and start to share instead, and it's worse still when Dabi realizes that somewhere along the way he's grown shamefully, achingly hard.

But the worst? The absolute worst?

That comes at the end.

You're nothing but a crumpled heap on the floor, one cheek squashed against the stained hardwood, your expression glassy and far away. People have stopped coming forward, all those who wanted a turn having taken one, or more. Their faces are uneasy now that they're spent, murmuring again and shooting furtive looks towards the door, obviously unsure if their continued presence is required but too wary of Shigaraki to ask. So it's Dabi who finally works up the nerve to speak, his voice tight through his clenched jaw.

"You did what you wanted. Now can we go?"

A sense of relief washes over him when Shigaraki releases him, but it's short-lived as the other man fixes that red-eyed stare on Dabi.

"Huh," he muses thickly, his expression unreadable as he cocks his head. "You still want her."

Dabi hesitates. Because he knows Shigaraki doesn't want that to be true, is intent on ripping apart whatever tenuous connection you and Dabi have forged over the past weeks, but Dabi's not sure that such a thing is possible. Right now he can't imagine the future any further than getting you both far, far away from here, but even after watching you submit to Shigaraki so readily, after seeing you clench and moan while being offered up like so much meat, Dabi doesn't think he could ever turn you away, not so long as you want him. So he nods.

Shigaraki's unreadable expression morphs, his lips splitting into a wide, depraved grin. "Fine." There's something in his tone that has Dabi's chest tightening with dread already, a sense that only intensifies when Shigaraki continues. "Finish her off, and you can have her. After all, what the fuck do I care if you want to keep the toy you damaged?"

Dabi swallows hard, looking around again. The crowd is watching intently, exchanging hushed whispers, and he knows they can hear every word, have no doubt anymore about just what has happened here, if they had any doubts before.

"Better get on with it," Tomura jeers, followed by a quiet, callous chuckle. "Take the last turn, and the two of you can go. Or don't, and I'll keep her here for days."

Fuck, Dabi can feel the weight of all those eyes on him, of dozens of gazes flicking between his torn expression and your used up form. He wants to say he can't, that he could never, but it's not the truth. The thought alone might have him fighting back a wave of nausea but that doesn't mean he isn't still erect, tenting his pants in a way that's painfully obvious to himself and to everyone else. Physically, at least, Dabi absolutely could.

He takes a step closer to you. Grimaces. He wants to reach out to you, to give you the reassurance of a soothing touch, but there's nowhere your skin isn't reddened or contused, the evidence of that damage exaggerated by the sheen of sweat and worse coating your skin. Your eyes roll up just enough to meet his hesitant stare, and Dabi gives you what he hopes is an apologetic look.

Dabi does what he has to do.

***

The moment it's over Dabi is scooping you up, hooking his arms around your shoulders and behind your bruised knees and lifting you gingerly from the floor, taking you in his arms as gently as he can manage. Your eyes drift to him again, the corners of your lips twitching and a tiny whimper issuing from the back of your throat, a sound so small and feeble that Dabi has to bite hard at the inside of his cheek to maintain some semblance of composure.

He avoids making eye contact with anyone as he leaves, not even sparing a glance towards Shigaraki to confirm this is really over; if the other man decides to change his mind, Dabi's sure it will be painfully obvious. But no one tries to stop him from taking you—he flees the scene of your discrediting successfully, with his heart pounding and his eyes fixed firmly on the floor ahead of him. Just as when he'd followed Shigaraki's march before, he puts one foot in front of the other and wills himself to think of nothing else.

It's difficult. Your skin is slick against his unclothed chest, and feels feverish. Every time he shifts you, he can feel wetness dribbling down your thighs as he tries to lie to himself it's nothing. Tries not to give it any attention at all.

Dabi's never been very good at deceiving himself, and it's all the harder now with the images of your defilement burned into his retinas—Shigaraki knew just what would make him suffer, Dabi has to admit that much.

When he reaches his room, he sets you gently to the floor, whispers that he'll be right back and then disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door tightly behind him. He cranks on the bathtub—it will be necessary to clean you up since he's certain you couldn't stand if you tried. It also serves to drown out the sounds to come, because the moment the water starts pouring he's lunging for the toilet and heaving his guts into the bowl, coughing and sputtering as he retches.

By the time he's finished being sick, the tub is nearly full.

He checks the temperature of the water. Once, twice. Three times. It's hard for him to gauge it adequately when he runs so hot, and the last thing he wants is to scald your abused skin or any of those tender, overworked parts. When he's finally wrangling you into the tub, he dips your hand in first, one final test to ease his anxious mind.

"That feel all right, baby girl?" He's not sure if you really nod, or if you're simply shifting a little, but either way he takes it as a yes.

In the end, it doesn't matter so much. The water turns disgusting almost the moment you're submerged, an oily sheen rising to the surface that Dabi doesn't want to think too hard about it. He drains it and doesn't repeat that mistake, only fills it a few inches full the second time and then scoops water over your irritated skin to rinse away the worst of the mess, a painstakingly slow but necessary measure. He repeats it twice and only after that muck stops rising to the top does he let the water creep higher so that he can wash you properly.

He starts with your hair. It's another slow process, trying to keep from snagging your damp tresses on the staples that line his palms as he massages shampoo into your scalp, and moving carefully to avoid the lump that's formed at the back of your head, where it cracked against the hardwood floor. He does his best not to grimace visibly at that swelling, does the same as he's working sweat and sticky clumps out of your matted locks—your eyes are still bleary but he knows you're watching him, and he couldn't bear for you to see how much it affects him to witness you like this.

Conditioner is probably an unnecessary touch, but he works it in anyway once the last of the suds have been rinsed away, thinks it might help you to feel some sense of normalcy, if that's even still a possibility for you. He lets it soak in while he tends to the rest of your inflamed skin, trying best as he can to be gentle, though that doesn't stop you from wincing every time he brushes over some raw, tender spot. When he finally works the washcloth between your thighs, the last horribly necessary task left, you let out a choked sob, your face contorting in distress in a way that has his throat tightening again.

"Shh, baby girl," Dabi soothes, his voice raw even to his own ears as he lifts a hand to stroke at your hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

You can't help but wonder if that's entirely true as you bite back more complaints and let him tend to your ravaged sex. You can see the tightness in his face, the way he can't seem to look at you for long, and Shigaraki's words keep running through your mind, a grim mantra that sticks in your head even more than the memories of the past few hours.

You'll be ruined for him, just like you're ruined for me.

The thought is enough to have panic brewing in your chest, a near-hysteria clawing its way through you. Because what would you do without Dabi? Who else would ever want you now? It would be too much to lose them both.

You don't realize tears are streaming down your cheeks until hot thumbs are brushing them away, cerulean eyes fixed worriedly on your own. "It's okay," Dabi murmurs again. "You're okay."

But it's not, you're not, probably won't ever be again, and you need more than those thin reassurances. Your arm aches when you lift one hand to catch his wrist, your feeble grip a reminder of just how worn you really are. "Am I—" your voice is hoarse, your words interrupted by a painful cough as you struggle to speak through your wrecked throat "—am I ruined for you?"

The way his face falls at your question is reassurance enough, that tight expression going slack and defeated, the corners of his brows lifting in grief. Then Dabi's pulling you to his chest, water sloshing over the side of the tub and cool porcelain digging into your side as he wraps both arms around you, his face burying itself in your damp strands as he cradles you close.

"No. No, of course not, baby girl. Never."

***

When Dabi finally releases you, he leaves you soaking in the tub long enough to take a shower. He's loath to abandon you for even one second, but he needs that cleansing and, more than that, needs a moment to breath. Because you'd never clung to him so eagerly before, never needed him the same way he needed you, not when you had someone else to hold tightly to.

So just now, when you'd burrowed against his chest and made clear that he was the one you were counting on? Well, he'd be lying if he said it hadn't felt good.

Shigaraki might have succeeded in cracking the pedestal Dabi had placed you on, but all that's truly accomplished is to bring you down to Dabi's level, to a place where he can actually hope to make you his. And Dabi doesn't want to find that thought reassuring, doesn't want to dwell on the realization that this whole fucked up situation might be the only way he'll get the one thing he still wants in life. But he does.

He cranks the heat in the shower as high as it will go as he tries to wash away that guilt, but the scalding water isn't enough. It can't rinse out the shame of finding personal satisfaction in your suffering, just like it can't scour away the memories of obeying Shigaraki's final order, of burying his length in the slick sensation of a dozen other men's seed, of squeezing your thighs together in a desperate bid to create some sort of friction, or of sinking himself into your tighter hole when it seemed like the only way to end that agony.

The list of things that require Dabi's contrition is endless, it seems.

Perhaps it's some kind of fucked up penance, then, that once you're both clean Dabi finds himself offering to go collect your things from the room you'd shared with Shigaraki.

It's an offer born of necessity; you have nothing to wear and while Dabi would love to dress you in his clothes, would relish the sight of you parading around in some oversized shirt that belongs to him, the way you had with Shigaraki's clothes back in the old hideout, he has nothing to offer on that front. An extensive wardrobe isn't among his precious few possessions—the options are his filthy tee shirt and jeans, the ones that reek of booze and ash, or his sweats, amply stained from your walk of shame. None of that seems anywhere near adequate.

So Dabi grits his teeth yet again, tugs on those dirty clothes himself and leaves you tucked safely in his bed, bundled in his only towel. There's an anxious look in your eyes as he departs, one that has a strange thrill coursing through him as he murmurs a promise to return quickly.

He tells himself as he journeys down the hall—pointedly ignoring every person he passes—that Shigaraki won't be there. Dabi's seen the boss angry before, knows he's one to wander and destroy rather than to sulk, and if Dabi were a betting man he would wager that Shigaraki won't be setting foot in the room he'd shared with you any time soon.

Unfortunately, Dabi is wrong once again. There's no answer when he knocks, but when he slips inside it becomes painfully obvious that lack of response wasn't because the quarters were unoccupied. He pauses inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, and is almost immediately assaulted by the sounds issuing from around the corner, just out of sight: sheets rustling and heavy breathing, the faint slap of skin on skin, a quiet moan.

Fuck. Fuck no. This is the last thing that Dabi wants or needs to witness, even if the stab of incredulity and anger he feels about it is undeserved. It's how he himself would have coped, he knows, had Shigaraki's return to the Liberation Front and your return to him gone according plan, but the thought that he could avail himself of this ever after today's display has Dabi's stomach twisting.

He holds his breath as he immediately retreats, the carpet muffling his slow, quiet steps. Dabi will try something else, ask Toga to loan you some things, or rifle through the remnants of Jin's possessions if he has to. All he has do is get out of here without—

"What do you think you're doing?"

The sound of Shigaraki's low voice has Dabi freezing in place. He sounds different than when they last spoke, some faint trace of amusement there in place of that calculated callousness. Dabi keeps still, tries to convince himself that it's not him Shigaraki is addressing, but that hope proves unfounded.

"I can smell you, you know. You reek of smoke. So why don't you stop hiding and tell me why the fuck you're here?"

Dabi's first instinct is to simply turn and leave, to avoid this unpleasant encounter all together and pray Tomura will simply return his attentions to whoever had the poor judgement to leap into his bed. But in the end he steps forward, not willing to test the other man further than he has with his mere presence, not when there's still a sinister edge to his tone and the damage Dabi's wrought is already likely to haunt him to his dying day.

A light clicks on when Dabi steps into sight, the sudden assault on his pupils making him blink rapidly, and when the room finally swims back into focus, Dabi freezes. Tomura has some woman tucked neatly in his lap, her back nestled to his chest as he peers at Dabi from over her shoulder, the sheets barely covering where Dabi is positive they're joined together.

"I just came to get some of her shit—I didn't think you'd be here," Dabi says flatly, trying to not to let his eyes drift from Tomura's face as deadly hands grope at exposed breasts, dark bite marks and hickeys starkly visible even from the bottom of Dabi's field of vision. "I'll come back later. Or just find her new shit."

"Why bother when you're already here? Just get on with it." Dabi can sense something forced in that casual dismissal of his presence even as Shigaraki lets out a low laugh, and that impression is only strengthened when the woman—some MLA holdover Dabi recognizes but couldn't name—tugs at the edge of the blankets, obviously intent on providing herself with some sort of cover. Shigaraki growls immediately, pale fingers clamping around her wrist so tightly that she whimpers in protest. The first syllable of Tomura's name falls quietly from her lips, a paltry whine that's quashed as soon as it begins, Shigaraki's wide palm slapping harshly over her mouth. His eyes narrow in displeasure as scowling lips ghost over her ear.

"You're the one who wanted to fuck," Dabi hears Shigaraki hiss, "so don't you dare stop."

Dabi might have felt some sympathy for her in another life, some pang of unease at the way her eyes widen and she fidgets nervously before hesitantly rocking her hips, but in this moment he can muster no sympathy, not when her apparently voluntary presence far exceeds even Dabi's expectations for the shamelessness of these meta liberation freaks.

He does, however, feel a twinge of disquiet when he realizes, after a moment of staring, that she looks like you. Not exactly, of course—the nose is wrong, the hairstyle different—but enough. Her hair color, her eyes, her build: they're all reminiscent of your own.

Dabi tries not to think about what that means.

"Well, aren't you going to do what you came for?" Shigaraki taunts. That malicious glint is back in his eyes, the corner of his thin mouth curving up into a smirk that makes it clear he's enjoying Dabi's discomfort at the scene playing out before him. His hands start to wander again as though to emphasize it, pinching and tugging at puffy, exposed nipples while the woman continues to issue muffled mewls from behind his hand. "I'm busy, if you couldn't tell."

Dabi grits his teeth and looks away. "Where is it?"

Shigaraki only shrugs, that sneer widening, and Dabi turns stiffly towards the dresser, doing his best to tune out the soft cries as he rummages through the drawers. After a moment it's clear that nothing within belongs to you, and reluctantly Dabi steps further into the room to search the closet. He finds what he's looking for there, thank god; neatly folded stacks of pants and shirts line the shelves, blouses and those fancy nightgowns you're so fond of arranged neatly on hangars beside them. There's a duffel bag on the floor too, and Dabi quickly busies himself shoving as many of your belongings into it as he can, working with unceremonious haste and chewing at his cheek, still trying to ignore the way the sounds behind him are escalating, the moans and lewd wet smacks growing louder, more rapid.

He only stops when the duffel is overflowing, too stuffed full to even zip shut. It's certainly more than enough for now, but he wonders briefly about the rest of your possessions, if there's some other source of comfort he could and should bring you before Shigaraki decides to dispose of anything you've left behind. But Dabi has no way of knowing, has never been permitted to so much as step foot in this space before.

When the unmistakable sound of a slap emanates from behind him, followed by a throaty groan, Dabi decides it doesn't matter.

It takes him a moment to steel himself, to work up the nerve to turn back towards the room and the vulgar performance occurring mere feet away, but he once he does he strides purposefully towards the door without so much as a glance towards Shigaraki and his new—and very temporary, Dabi suspects—lover. He's almost out the door, seconds from feeling as though he can breath again, when that mocking voice is once again demanding his attention.

"Dabi," Shigaraki calls out liltingly, and Dabi pauses.

"What now?"

His obvious impatience draws a cold chuckle from Tomura. "Don't try to leave. Either of you," Shigaraki says. "The Violet Regiment still needs its lieutenant, and I need you motivated."

For a long moment, Dabi simply stands there, his hand still resting on the knob as he considers those instructions. Shigaraki isn't wrong to think he would consider it; Dabi's mostly accomplished what he hoped to with the League, and his more protective instincts have been screaming at him to get you out of here since the second it was clear Tomura intended to honor his threats. But he'd already had doubts that the jilted man would let that happen, not when the punishment he'd devised is most effective if you're both forced to stay, forced to face everyone who witnessed your downfalls and shared shame.

And also, well...Dabi's more protective instincts might tempt him to flee—he's disappeared before, after all, thinks he could do it again even if it would be harder to evade Shigaraki's reach—but his possessive instincts? Those have more self-serving thoughts brewing in the back of his mind. Because if the castigation you endured is most effective if you stay, it also means that Dabi has no advantage anywhere else. Would you cling to him so sweetly, so fiercely if you weren't surrounded by those who had seen you so thoroughly humbled? Or would such an escape only taint Dabi's presence in your mind, single him out as the last reminder of your humiliation and debasement?

It would, he thinks. So Dabi nods even though Shigaraki can't see him, noting the opportunity present in what was surely intended as a threat. The sadistic leader might be intent on dangling this over both your and Dabi's heads until at least one of you is dead, but Dabi's made the best of bad situations before, ones worse than this.

"Sure thing, boss," he says, working to keep his tone level and mild. He steps out into the hall, lets the door click closed behind him.

For the first time all day, Dabi smiles.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi smut #dabi fanfic #dabi angst #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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emikadreams · 3 years ago

Text

The Lord and the Lady

A/N: IT'S HERE FOLKS!! I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think💕 once again I highly recommend listening to this(I killed the bitch) playlist while you read this fic. song recs are always welcome! Hope you enjoy this fic...

INCYMI: PROLOGUE

Chapter 1: THE LADY HAS ARRIVED

The wolves were howling, for their lady had come home.

The sun was shining with renewed vigour, the cherry blossoms filled the air with their fragrance and the people rejoiced and welcomed Feyre with open arms.

The high lady was revered and loved by her people and by the Mother herself, she was Feyre, Cauldron blessed after all, after three years of denying herself her land, her birthright, her power she found herself again and accepted every fibre of her being. She breathed in the smell of her home deep into her lungs and sighed in contentment.

She was safe-she was free.

She welcomed the sweet pleasure of liberation and smiled as her people roared her name from the moment she set foot in her court. She stood with her spine straight and head held high as her bloody clothes stood in stark contrast to her serene court. With her tattered dress blowing in the wind she walked into her home, a throng of people had gathered behind her. They followed their high lady, with unrestrained happiness. She passed merry children, stunned citizens, and busy marketplaces before walking into the garden where she came into her power.

In the heart of her court, her throne was placed on a raised podium,and her people had lovingly painted it with a myriad of colours when she was crowned as the High lady. The swirls of colour depicted her artistic soul and her childlike wonder that she thought was long gone. She skillfully conjured up stairs of darkness and stood at the bottom of the podium and said with a voice that resonated through the bones of every being in her court ,

“ I’m home.”

She outstretched her hands and her dirty, torn clothes transformed into her training leathers and a mantle adorned her shoulders. Her hair was left unbound and cascaded down to her waist.The blood, dust and grime disappeared from her body and she smiled without restraint, her happiness made the sun glow brighter, the flowers continued to blossom over the horizon, wolves howled in pride, and a chorus of thunderous applause followed. Her general, Nesta Archeron, walked up to her with a crown in hand. Nesta held her hand before whispering, “Welcome home Fey.” Feyre could see Nesta was trying not to cry, she swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded, her eyes conveying everything she felt when words continued to fail her. Nesta’s eyes softened and she hugged her sister tightly.

Her spymaster, Elain Archeron floated up to them and joined the hug, “We missed you, Fey. We were beyond miserable without you.” Even though Elain’s voice was muffled, Feyre heard her loud and clear. They pulled out of the hug and Feyre saw tears lining Elain’s eyes but she blinked them back and smiled.

The Archeron sisters were whole yet again.

The three sisters stood close, their hands linked together with Feyre in the center. The sisters flanked her on either side, forming a formidable wall of power. They were a force to be reckoned with and the world now knew that the Archerons were not be messed with. The sisters were hesitant to let go of each other but they knew what had to be done first. Nesta placed the crown on Feyre’s head and every inch of her sighed with relief at the rightness of it, Elain placed the sword of Astraeus in her hands and nodded towards Feyre.

Feyre held the sword and ascended the stairs towards her throne. Once she reached the top she placed the sword on the engraved slot along the spine of the throne, instantly illuminating it. Gasps of awe and surprise erupted from the court which only increased in tempo as vines of light and darkness snaked down the throne. The garden was at once filled with stars and mist that emanated from deep within her, she sat on her throne and Nesta, shouted on top of her lungs,

“Long live, High Lady Feyre Archeron.” her voice was laced with pride,

Her people echoed the sentiment and bowed.

Feyre smiled and rested her hands on her throne, relishing in the feel of it. Every part of the court was hers, she had betrayed, manipulated, bled and killed, for this throne. She owned every inch of it and she reveled in the knowledge.

She scraped a nail along the inscriptions etched on the hand-rest as the mist behind her throne took the shape of large wolves that placed themselves on either side of her. They bowed their heads, welcoming her back into the pack and resumed their role as the protectors of the High Lady. The chorus of her name continued and she let them rejoice, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. After she decided that she had received enough attention to last a life time, she walked down the stairs and stood amongst her people, cleared her throat and the garden fell silent, her people turned attentive, “So, what have I missed.”

The garden erupted into chaos and thus began the court’s one week revel, Solely for praising the High Lady of the Dusk court and filling her in on what had happened while she was away.

A week went by and Feyre had the eerie sense that trouble would be finding her soon. She walked the halls of her estate like a ghost and carried on with her duties but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her picture perfect world would come crumbling down any moment. Later that evening as she was holding court with her sisters and her emissary, her suspicions were proven correct and her life was upturned yet again.

“Why wasn’t I aware of the fact that our borders were infiltrated!” Feyre snarled in anger at Pari, the emissary to her court who had let this crucial detail slip from her tongue. She looked around the room nervously, earning a glare from Nesta and sigh from Elain. Pari stood rooted to the spot with fear as Feyre shook with barely restrained anger.

Feyre was furious, her grip on her power slackened, the chandeliers started shaking and the mountains trembled in the distance.

“Feyre,” Nesta said cautiously , “You were preoccupied,” Nesta raised an eyebrow and shrugged nonchalantly, besides we handled it.”

“That doesn’t give you free rein to keep me in the dark about the comings and goings of my court!” Feyre snapped. She started pacing the length of her room, while the room fell silent. Nesta turned her attention back to polishing her knives and Elain returned to reading her reports, both content on letting their sister sort her thoughts out. Seeing that the spotlight was no longer on her, Pari took this as an opportunity to all but run out of the room. The gears in Feyre’s mind were turning, multiple plans already taking root. She paused in her furious pacing as an idea took shape.

“How did they get past our shields?” she asked Elain.

“Apparently, they found a weak spot.” she replied from her spot on Feyre's bed without raising her head from her reports.

“That’s not possible.” Feyre whispered to herself but her thoughts were interrupted when Nesta cleared her throat, dragging her attention towards her eldest sister.

“ I have an idea that can help us fully understand how our borders were breached but you won’t like it,” Nesta grinned. Feyre rolled her eyes and sketched a bow,” Humor me.”

Nesta’s grin grew wider, “ It requires talking to a certain violet-eyed High Lord.”

Feyre paled at the mention of the High Lord of Night, she started shaking her head, “No way. No fucking way!”

Elain sighed in exasperation and Nesta grinned at her sisters, “Time to meet the almighty Lord of Night, dear sisters.”

Feyre groaned in frustration,“Well, Fuck me!”

“I’d be happy too but maybe later, darling” a smooth voice cut her off. The Lord of the Night and his entourage sauntered into her bedroom and bowed while Rhysand stared her down.

Nesta brushed mental claws against the adamant shield to Feyre’s mind, she opened a sliver and let her in, Feyre’s exhaustion, anger and surprise enveloped Nesta like smoke as she spoke to Feyre in her mind “ We had to speak with him so we arranged a meeting a week ago when we finally got word that you would be coming home, so, surprise?”

Feyre wished for a hole to open in the ground and swallow her whole as she straightened her spine and lifted her chin and regarded the infamous High Lord.

The two stared at each other as if they were the only two souls in the galaxy, stars winked to life in Rhysand’s eyes and Feyre felt a shiver of excitement snake down her spine.

“This is not going to end well.” Elain mumbled and Nesta hummed in agreement and got up to leave but Feyre glared at both of her sisters rooting them to their spots. She tilted her head as if to say that they got her into this mess, so they were going to burn with her. They sighed but drifted to her side, her General stood to her left while her�� spymaster was to her right. Rhysand’s entourage grinned toothily and Feyre’s sisters snarled in defiance.

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath as the High Lady of Dusk and the High Lord of Night spoke.

“Rhysand”

“Feyre darling.”

“Oh mother have mercy,” Feyre thought to herself as two of the most powerful faes in Prythian regarded each other with apprehension.

Taglist: lemme know if you want to be tagged💕

@story-scribbler @thebonecarver @surielandiareendgame @feysand-loml @flyingtortillasworldsblog @feysandandnyxsworld @ratabrasileira @wintersouldier57 @tanvee1231 @kayla-2 @evolving-dreamer

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#feysand au #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #elain archeron #dusk court #high lady feyre #canon divergence #my writing #au #the archeron sisters #feyre #general nesta #spymaster elain

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