#i remember having goosebumps the first time i heard it

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]

One skull, two tenants and no solution in sight. I could fix it all, like that.

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?” He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[lifemod17]

Oh dear, oh dear, I'm sorry

that you grew up so soon

And if you want, I can tell the truth

that this life takes a toll on you

I spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul

in the morning I'm bulletproof

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[adelliet]

Logan x f!reader

MEMORABLE RIDE

Summary: You went to the club with your friends and when it was time to go, you ordered a limo, but the girls didn't join so you took the ride alone, but this wasn't your only ride of the evening.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, fingering, nicknames (good girl, princess,…), unprotected sex (p i v)

A/n: Hello pookies! This is quite a short one-shot unlike the previous ones, but still there may be grammatical errors, for which I apologize. Also sorry if some parts don't make sense, English is not my native language! Thanks, enjoy <3

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"So are you coming or not?" you yell at your friends, trying to shout over the loud music. They were all sitting in a booth with their one-night stands, all dazed and drunk. They didn't hear you, despite their enthusiasm to have a good fuck today. Unlike them, you had no luck in finding a fuck-buddy. It wasn't that you weren't interested or didn't want to, but no one at the party was your type.

Your friends are into boys of the same age, while you prefer more mature men, older men who knows what they want. "Hey!" you yelled at them once more, at this point your throat started hurting. One of your friends finally heard you and gave you a cursory look. "No, we're not going, can't you see we're busy?" Julia said in her typical bitch tone, that you were already used to.

"But I already ordered a ride home" you furrow your eyebrows as you show her your phone screen. "So? Go home, we'll take care of ourselves" Kaylie said this time, making you realize they all heard you but just ignore you. They were just mocking you.

"Whatever" you breathed out and shook your head, deciding to leave. You love those girls, you really do, but when alcohol, drugs, and sex get into them, they're changed. Usually they apologize the next day and everything is back to normal, but sometimes you wonder if the ridicule is worth it.

When you finally squeezed through the crowd of people and nearly went blind from the beams of colored lasers, you stepped outside and took a deep breath. The club was incredibly hot and the air was thick in there, it was practically impossible to breathe, so the moment you stepped out, it was like a godsend.

You stayed on a spot for a while, just enjoying the clean air and the glowing lamps around you, until you noticed a black limousine on the other side of the sidewalk. That was for you. You quickly checked your makeup in your pocket-mirror, to see if you didn't look like a total mess and headed towards the limo.

On your way there, an old guy with a long gray beard and a black suit get out of the car. Even from a distance you could tell, that he's been gone through a lot in his life. He had a cute glasses on, his eyes squeezed, trying to read something in his phone. "Hi!" you said with a sweet tone and small smile.

You caught his attention immediately, making him groan annoyingly as he looked at you, but the moment he saw you, he needed to double check you. He carelessly scan you from the bottom up, his glasses sliding off his nose gently while he looked through his eye lids.

Before he could say anything you overtook him. "313, my code" you flashed him with your phone screen. He hastily blinked, his eyes watering from the brightness of your phone. He rudely took your phone and checked with a closer look. You awkwardly stood next to him until he hummed and handed you back your phone.

"Where are the others?" his voice was deep and grainy, showing his age. Hearing him for the first time made goosebumps all over your body and increased your heartbeat. "They...uh they're not coming, it's just me" you look behind your shoulder and glance at the club, remembering your friends words, before turning back.

He roll his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Is that okay?" you asked him cautiously, automatically going to sit in the back of the limo, as he got into the driver's seat. "As long as you pay" you deduced, that hearing him talk is very rare thing and that was why it made it so special. Whenever he talks, his voice sends a sharp prick between your legs.

"Y-yeah I have the money..." you rummaged through your purse to check your wallet and you sigh with relief when you saw it there. The old man entered your location on the GPS and started the engine. The ride was quiet except for the songs on the radio, but you didn't mind, you watched things passing by from window. You could turn off your brain and relax.

"May I ask why you didn't take a taxi?" your rest didn't last long when you heard the wolf's voice again. It took you a while to recover and form a sentence in your head. "I guess I didn't think of that" you didn't want to tell the whole lore about your friends and how you naively thought you would drive all home together and enjoy the ride back, so you got a little carried away and spend a lot of money on a limo. All that so you are now sitting alone there and not didn't even enjoy the evening with some good fuck.

He was looking at you through the rear view mirror, sometimes you caught him and he swiftly looked back on the road. He could sense the dissapointment in your voice, but he didn't want to be intrusive, even though he was really interested in the story behind you.

"Aren't you cold?" another sharp hit into your core, when you heard his crisp voice. "Uhh no, it's fine, thanks" the thanks was almost inaudible as you looked down at your knees shyly. You honestly weren't surprised he asked, you were wearing a short top with a short black skirt. You hoped you don't look like some kind of slut, you wanted to impress him in a good way and if he told his friends about you, you didn't want him to call you a whore.

He nodded, quickly checking you in the mirror again before firmly focusing his attention on the road. That was his last sentence before the silence came again, broken by music from the radio and the sounds of cars outside. But it was soothing, the led lights were dark purple and before long your eye lids started being heavy and without realizing it, you fell asleep.

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Your body twitched and you instantly woke up, after you heard a sudden slam of the door. you rub your eyes and yawn tiringly, as you look from the window. You squinted your eyes when the lights of the gas station hit you, but after a while you got used to it, you try to orient yourself. When you wanted to check on the driver, he was gone. You tried to stay calm and not panic right away, as is your nature. You're only at the gas station, Logan must have gone to get gas or buy something, he doesn't want to bury you alive in the woods. Your paranoidness is really pathetic sometimes.

After a while, you heard a melody of door opening and immediately looked after the sound. Your eyes sparkle and your corners automatically lifted up when you saw him walking towards the limousine. Without realizing it, you felt a strange fluttering in your stomach when HE came into your sight. Feeling that you haven't experienced in a long time.

You watched his every step towards you, his serious expression still on his face with no sign of emotion. You sat back in the seat when Logan grabbed the handle and put his upper body into the car. "Hey...I was thinking you might want to drink something" he handed you one of his cups and gave you the cutest eyes you've ever seen. You though you were in a fever dream.

"Oh! T-thank you" you took the cup and giggle nervously, before your fingers touched by the process and you swear a spark jumped between you. The eye contact was intense, strong, almost romantic and none of you wanted to break it.

You hold your breath as you try to read his eyes, what he was thinking about. He flicked from your eyes to your lips quickly and then decided to go back to driver's seat. "Wait!" you stopped him quickly.

He bent down to see your face again and waited for your words. You didn't even know what you wanted. You had to think fast. "Can you...can you sit here with me for a while? I don't want to delay you, I just...I don't want to go home" you chuckle awkwardly as a side-smile appeared on your face.

Logan was quiet at first, again, not a single hint of any emotion in his face, but he got in and sat next to you, as you wished. He keeps the distance between you respectful, even though you wouldn't mind if he scoops a bit closer. "Why's that?" he raised his eyebrow and turned his head to you, looking deep into your eyes. You sighed and looked down while playing with your fingers.

"Well...it's a long story" you look back up at him, smiling softly. "I got time" his interest in you really warmed your heart and your inner self screamed with joy. Even though you are not a very extroverted person, you felt comfortable with him so he didn't have to tell you twice to talk.

"Well, today was supposed to be a hen party and originally, more girls were supposed to be here with me, but as you can see, that didn't quite work out...just a pinch of alcohol and they act like animals" you scoff and shake your head, being really pissed. You remember what they told you, how they treated you and didn't even give a hint of gratitude for the fact that you tried to get them a ride back.

"Oh...well-" he wanted to comfort you somehow, but you didn't finish and decided to confide properly. You surprised yourself. "You know, I really like them, but sometimes they act like total whores who only think about sex and dicks, not that there's anything wrong with that, but they just don't have any self-respect for themselves or others, and then I catch their rude behavior…”

You were so fired up about letting it all out that you didn't even realize the effect it must have on this man. When there was an awkward silence after your speech, you checked on him. He looked a little shocked but immediately cleared his throat and composed himself, so that he could finally react somehow, but you didn't let him, again.

"I have a pretty boring life, I admit, maybe I'm old-fashioned but I'm not really the type to sleep with the first guy I meet in a club..., anyway the answer to why I don't want to go home is simple, I still want to enjoy the freedom before going back to my awkward and boring office-life" this was the final speech and you felt amazing after that. Those words slipped out of your mouth so easily and you haven't confided in someone like this for a long time.

You sip from your cup loudly as the outrageous silence became really disconcerting. Your conscience began to eat away at you quickly, and since you didn't accept any answer, your nervousness grew rapidly. You started tapping your foot and gradually the shaking spread to your hands, which were holding the cup. You started to regret confiding so much and wanted to say something and save yourself a little, but a man's voice caressed your eardrums before you could speak.

"You don't look like someone who has a boring life" from everything you said you were surprised that he reacted to THAT but on the other hand, you were probably grateful for that, if he only reacted to the sex theme, it would probably put you both in an awkward situation. "Oh believe me, I really have…I'm not special" you smiled at him, your dimples shine as you try to read through his eyes again.

He frowned, that was the first facial movement you saw from him, you are finally getting somewhere. "C'mon your boyfriend sure thinks you're amazing" you chuckle softly and shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend" "Really?" he answered, maybe too quickly, a big surprise in his voice. You nodded and couldn't stop smiling.

"You're telling me that a beautiful lady like you doesn't have a boyfriend?" you giggle again as a reaction to his compliment and shake your head. You felt like a little girl getting compliments from adults, it was exciting. "Damn…" he leaned back in disbelief, looking really surprised. "That's a shame, boys must flock to you" his compliments started being overwhelming and every time he said something nice to you, there was that sharp kick right into your clitoris that makes your core pulsating. At first you were a little embarrassed to be turned on by such an old man's praise, but later you didn't care and just enjoyed the moment.

"Not really...I'm quite quiet" "I noticed" he gave you a smile, which almost made you faint. That cruel nasty man was gone and replaced by a nice gentleman with beautiful eyes. "I'm Logan by the way" he offered you a hand to shake which you took almost immediately and your smile grew bigger. Logan. His name kept repeating itself in your head. It was quite an unusual but unique name that sounded very nice and you would get used to screaming it easily, to be honest. "Y/n" you shake your hands and let go, feeling a bit sad when your skins stopped touching.

"Y/n..." he repeated your name to himself quietly, looking at you up and down, not caring if you notice or not. His confidence was really visible and that only added to his attractiveness. Although you just said that your friends sometimes act like whores who only think about sex and dicks, now you've turned into one of them. A million scenarios started forming in your head and your pulsating started being unbearable every second Logan look at you.

You had no idea what kind of magic it was that he was so extremely attracted to you, in fact you had no idea, except that you wanted to ride him till you can't walk anymore in this fancy limousine. As if he read your thoughts and subtly started bending closer to you. You hold your breath once again, as the distance between your lips started getting smaller, until it barely existed.

You were inches away from touching each other lips, no one had the guts to destroy the barrier until Logan gave up and finally kissed you. As if he was afraid of what your reaction would be, his lips barely touching yours, he was very careful. He didn't want to scare you, but you were the oposite. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and goosebumps surrounded your body when you felt his lips, but you wanted more.

That's why you headlessly grabbed Logan's neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Logan wasn't so careful anymore as your tongues battled for dominance and your hands encircled each other's bodies. At the beginning there were slow, peaceful kisses that quickly turned into a hungry and merciless ones.

You didn't last long on your place and slowly moved away from your seat to sit on Logan. He devilishly smirk into the kisses as he feel your ass on his lap, where his boner was already growing. He was exploring your body, every inch of you, he wanted to remember it. He traveled from your long hair to your ass, which he squeezed from time to time. You panties were soaking wet and your natural instincts took control. You started moving your hips back and forth, desperate for even a little friction.

Your movements made Logan groan and squeeze your ass even harder, making you moan. Your lips were still firmly glued to each other, even though you wanted to see Logan's face as you rode him through your clothes. His body is tensed as he tries to keep his voice quiet, even that he doesn't do it very well. He was as desperate as you, from the moment he saw you you were on his mind and he couldn't let you go. There's a reason your friends didn't go with you and you're actually grateful to them. Really fucking grateful.

Logan was getting tired of touching you only through your clothes, so he lifted your skirt up a bit and touched your folds through your soaked panties. He chuckled at the feeling and let go of your lips, looking into your lustful eyes. "You're so fucking wet" he growled and started creating pressure between your legs that increased with every movement he made. You could finally throw your head back and enjoy his fingers, which for an old man were damn nimble. He definitely has a lot of experience.

Your pelvis automatically moved along with his hand as your palms rested on his chest. You throw your head back and started unbuttoning his pants, making him giggle. "Someone is impatient" you smiled, intensely focused on his pants until he made an illegal move. Your eyes shut and head drop, when he put your panties aside and finally touched on your bare wet folds. He was enjoying the view of you, how your face was squeezed and your quiet whimpers started echoing throughout the limousine, you were perfect.

He couldn't resist and had to thrust both fingers into you at the same time, forcing you to throw your head back and drop your jaw wide open. You felt so full when he was expanding your walls but that was just the beginning. His fingers started curling into you, smooth steady motions that were throwing you closer to your orgasm. “Logan” you were wailing his name over and over again as you started ride on his fingers. Your nails sank into his thighs but he barely felt it.

One of his hands was on your waist trying to keep you still at least a little bit, while the other was fingering you with no mercy. He noticed how you started clenching around him and even your moans started being cut off. You didn't need to tell him twice that you are about to cum right on his fingers, he knew it very well. You felt the weird feeling to go pee and your stomach started clenching, just a few more movements and you would cum, but he stopped.

He pulled his fingers out of you and you immediately look at him confused, sighing at the lost. He smiles, sucking his fingers and looking in your eyes while he taste you. He rolled his eyes and growls loudly. "Fuck you taste amazing" this sentence makes you wet again and your core pulsates even more than before. Logan let go of your weist and started clumsily taking off his pants. You quickly get up so you won't not to get in his way, and the moment his pants along with his boxers touched his ankles, he didn't hesitate for a second. He grabbed your hips harshly and eagerly forced you to sit on him.

You adored his impetuous behavior and how much he was craving for you, for your body, for the fuck. Even though he looked two hundred years old, he had an outrageous amount of energy in him and his body was bursting with adrenaline. You, on the other hand, weren't much different. Your horniness knew no bounds and the passion you felt was irreplaceable.

Your only focus was on Logan, you didn't care if anyone caught or heard you, you wanted him inside you no matter what. You look down at his penis, veiny, unshaven and huge. You gasped a little as the thought that this would all be inside you besieged you, but your excitement was much greater than your fear. "Surprised baby?" the craspy voice rang in your ears and you immediately look in front of you, his myschivious grin makes your core pulsates even more and the lust for orgasm was incalculable.

Your mouth filled with saliva and you weren't going to hold on to the anticipation any longer. You slowly started lowering yourself, your breath stuck in your throat as you felt his tip touching you. "Good girl, nice and slow..." Logan was looking down at the part where you two are going to connect, his strong arms still holding your hips and subtly forcing you to take him.

His words soothed and excited you at the same time, which is why his intrusion wasn't as painful. You groan loudly as his tip was fully inside you, already feeling full but that still wasn't the end. You change your hand placement to his chest, squeezing his boobs without realizing it, but Logan loved every moment of it. He decided to help you and slowly lifted up his hips, pushing further into you. Before long he was all inside you, you couldn't believe how full you were and how he was stretching your walls much more than before with his fingers. Your juice was already dropping on his cock, that was hard as a stone inside you.

He waited a while for you to get used to his length and during that he grabbed your neck and kissed you aggressively. When your hips started moving instinctively, he deduced that you were ready. With his hands still holding your hips, he was forcing you to move back and forth, heating up and creating pressure, like some type of foreplay. Your lips were still glued to his until you couldn't take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath. Your head dropped as your whining grew louder and louder.

“Yeah that's it princess…” he growled as he watched your face, still holding you tightly. His pelvis started moving along with yours, his pulse increased and his breathing slowed down. “Such a good girl” the endless compliments only helped to bring you closer to your climax and he was well aware of that. You look up through your eye lids, seeing him intensely focused with furrowed eyebrows send a chill down your spine.

You gradually began to pick up your pace and strength, each movement bringing you both closer and your moans getting louder. The car was starting to smell like sex and the atmosphere around you was getting thick. Logan wanted more, so he makes your hips go up and then thrust down. You scream his name as he did it again, but this was exactly what you both needed. He helped you a bit but after a while you could jump on him by yourself, the incredibly lust to reach your orgasm made you forget about exhaustion.

Logan dropped his jaw and shut his eyes as your ass was clapping against his thighs. His dick was twitching inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours. That spongy sensitive spot calling the cervix sends incredible waves of pleasure whenever he hits it. You both were sighing in a rhythm as the juicy sounds started getting louder. “That's it baby…that's it” with a struggle he praised you again and banged you, desperately trying to finally reach his orgasm.

You knew you won't last long anymore. The overwhelming tense feeling started shutting down all your senses. Goosebombs jumped on every part of your body as you squeezed his breasts hard, making him chuckle. "C'mon baby, give it to me" this was the last straw when he gave you this green flag to cum. You put all your strength and energy into your hips and into finally achieving what you longed for. You slowly throw your head back again and just whimper quietly, as your hips took on the incredible speed of light.

When the feeling of going to pee and release finally washed over you, your entire body tensed and you shiver. You were paralyzed and your hips stopped moving when you finally reached your golden orgasm. But Logan didn't stop and when he felt how hard you clenched around him and saw your cumming face, he lost his control in hips and cum just few seconds after you. He emptied his balls into you, not missing a single drop and grunted very VERY loudly as he nearly crushed your hips. When you both calmed down a bit, the only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

"Fuck you were...incredible" you breathed out and Logan chuckled, nodding as a acceptence of your compliment. "You too sweatheart" you looked into his eyes with a surprised expression. He gave you those nicknames during sex, that's why you were shocked when he told you after it too. Your corners lifted up and your heart melts, making it hard for Logan to resist and he needed to kiss you one more time. But this time it was a long, romantic kiss that you hadn't received in decades.

When he pulled away, leaving just a tiny space between your noses, your teasing mood started setting in. "You lasted quite long for an old guy" he furrowed his eyebrows but smiled, as he sensed your teasing behavior. "Oh really?" he tsks before he asked ironically and you just hummed. "Say that again and you'll regret it" he warned you but you knew it was just a part of the teasing-play you had going on. "Okay, sorry, grandpa" you devilishly smile as you said the last word.

"That's it" Logan grabbed you and threw you gently on the floor of the limousine, making you smile. He started kissing you aggressively with his dick still deeply inside you.

"You won't be able to walk after this"

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[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: thanks for reading guys

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

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Y/N was never a light sleeper, but this particular time waking up felt way more difficult than usual. Her head was hurting from all the crying and the last thing she could remember was Tommy holding her against his chest and the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with his own unique scent before she nodded off, unable to handle the recent events.

“Mrs. Shelby, you're awake” One of the maids spoke up with a gentle smile, putting a steaming tea on the nightstand by her side.

Sitting up, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“I'm not a Shelby” She responded with more annoyance than she'd like.

“Oh” The older woman said with a hint of shame. “My apologies. Mr. Shelby asked to bring you tea and some pain relief tonic,”

Y/N nodded, thanking her quietly before she rose from the bed, looking around. The room looked familiar in a less than pleasurable way, just like the clothes she was wearing. Sighing deeply she walked out of the room, seeing the dark corridor of the places she once called home.

After getting refreshed and dressed, Y/N walked toward the grand staircase. She stopped cold, feeling goosebumps running through her spine in the worst possible way when she saw the monumental portrait of Thomas and her in the stairwell. One she used to see everyday. The eyes on the portrait looked as lively as ever, mocking the pain she held in her chest every time she saw it. There she was, the former lady of the house, laying claim to her domain even from the grave. The longer she stared at her, the more she felt Grace was taunting her. “You may have been his woman once, but I have his heart and his ring on my finger now.” The words rang in her ears, coming from the depths of her memory, loud as the day she heard them for the first time. Y/N couldn't seem to be able to tear her gaze away, silently battling the ghost that seemed to curse her relationship forever.

She stood there for a long moment, immersed in the painting so much that she didn't realise she was being watched.

Thomas stood in the doorway on the other side of the corridor, watching her silently losing the battle as shame gnawed on his insides. He should have thrown it away long ago, but it was the last thing on his mind as he desperately looked for Y/N everywhere. The dead woman on his wall wasn't a big concern.

“You're awake” He spoke up, unable to handle the silence anymore.

She turned around, almost startled, as he caught her staring at her. The first thing she noticed were the glasses on his nose, and she fought against the little smirk that tried to appear on her lips so badly.

“What am I doing here? Where are the boys?” She asked, straight to the point. Thomas shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, knowing she wouldn't be happy with the news.

“Boys are with Frances upstairs, playing.” He responded, looking her in the eyes. “You're not safe outside of Arrow house. You three need to stay here until the vendetta is over.”

“What if you had more men surrounding my flat instead?” Y/N bargained.

“It’s too dangerous and I need my men concentrated not spread out over cities” he replied, already prepared for the questions he knew she'd ask.

She wanted to argue so badly. Y/N wanted to be free from him and the reminders of the past that this house held. But she knew that receiving a black hand was a serious threat she didn’t have the capacity to handle by herself.

“The only reason I'm not leaving right now is because I need to keep them safe.” She said, stepping closer. “...and if anything happens to us, I want you to know that it's all your fault.”

Despite knowing and seeing the pure hatred in her eyes, Thomas could never fully brace himself for the impact of her words.

“Nothing will happen to any of you. I give you my word” He said, quieter this time.

“Your word means nothing to me, Thomas. Just… just stay away from us as much as possible.” Y/N added, wanting to walk away.

“You can't expect me to stay away. They.. are my kids. My sons.” He said suddenly, and the confidence and fierceness of his voice made her stop in her tracks. “I regret losing you every single day. Every day I grieved the loss of my bloody heart, and then I found out there's three I should have been grieving. But you're here, and so are they. So I won't let yo–them go.” He hissed out, almost frantically and the vulnerability in his eyes made her slightly tremble. It hurt even more, because she waited so long to hear.. anything. Any crumb of reassurance would be enough to keep her here, but he didn't say a fucking word.

Straightening her back, Y/N inhaled a deep breath, looking back at the bloody portrait who was witnessing the whole scene. Seconds later she looked at him again, and the fire in his eyes was more lively, outweighing the dead, judgemental stare.

“They won't call you their father. If you break this rule, you won't see us again.”

***

The next day Y/N woke up, bracing herself for another battle as she walked down the stairs and to her surprise, the portrait was… gone. Her heart thumped wildly at the realisation and she couldn't believe her eyes. Suddenly the tension in the house seemed to have lessened.

Walking to the kitchen, she noticed Thomas sitting by the table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette in his hand, as he read the newspaper. It felt weirdly domesticated and the thought alone made her smirk.

“Did the boys eat?” She asked, not sure what to expect.

“Frances fed them an hour ago. Tommy is napping in the living room, and Nick is picking daisies with Mary in the garden.” He responded in a calm tone, not tearing his gaze away from the newspaper.

Silence hung in the air as they each did their own thing

Finishing up her breakfast, Y/N cleared her throat again as she looked at the wall in front of her.

“The portrait is gone” She pointed out in an emotionless voice, not looking at him. A couple longer moments passed before she heard him exhale a cloud of smoke.

“What portrait? He responded, and Y/N’s lips stretched into a subtle smile before she grabbed her plate and walked away.

A couple days later Y/N still avoided him, occasionally getting to talk to John or Arthur, but both of them were distracted by the giant threat hanging over the family. Polly seemed to keep it together the best, coming over whenever she felt like it for some female company.

Y/N said her goodbyes to Polly, going to put the cups into the sink and cleaning the mess after Nick. She wasn't used to having maids doing everything for her, so it was more comfortable to just clean the mess herself. Nick himself was currently spending time with his uncles by the stables, and Tommy was… who knows where.

After cleaning, Y/N went looking for the other boy, asking Frances who just directed her to the little room where the toys were stored.

She expected everything, but not the view she saw arriving in the doorway. Little Tommy sat back on his legs, watching with wide eyes and furiously colouring the different shapes Thomas drew for him.

“Dat?” Tommy asked suspiciously, pointing towards the crooked flower on the paper and glancing at him with big eyes.

“This?” He asked with a grin, “that's a flower” he explained, to which the boy nodded, narrowing his eyes lightly.

“...and dat?!” He asked suddenly in a squeaky tone, seeing the car Thomas drew for him.

“That's a car. Almost” He chuckled, seeing the crooked shapes as he tried his very best.

Tommy nodded, grinning in the same way as his father before glancing at his mum.

“Hi!” He waved, before pointing to the flower again. “fwowa!” he said proudly, pushing his little chest forward.

Thomas just laughed quietly, putting the pencil down.

“Good job, little man” he said, before slowly rising from the floor with a groan.

“Oh God, I'm too old for this” He whispered with a chuckle, glancing at Y/N who wasn't able to suppress the smile on her face after she heard Tommy talk. “Don't smile like that, now it's your turn.” Thomas added, passing by her in the doorway, his shoulder brushing against hers.

***

The next couple weeks were… rougher. Changretta was relentless in his search, which turned into a couple of seriously dangerous situations where John got shot in the chest barely coming out alive. Polly didn't agree with a lot of Thomas' actions, despite his inability to back off right now. He stood his ground, no matter how difficult it was sometimes to keep Y/N inside Arrow house whenever worse moments would arrive. And they did, fairly frequently.

The pull he felt became stronger and stronger, no matter how many daggers she kept throwing. Spewing the words she held deep inside, reminding him of the monster he used to be… or maybe still was? He couldn't tell. The view in the reflection of his mirror was so blurry, that it didn't matter. As long as she saw him to be fit enough to be around boys.

The house was completely quiet as he made his way through the corridor, lacking the usual sounds of kids playing or Y/N walking from one room to the other. Walking past the library, he caught a glimpse of light coming from the room that made him stop in his tracks.

His hands trembled with anxiety. The fear settled in his ribs over three years ago and hasn't left him once, even though they were here.

Thomas was aware of how powerless he was once the vendetta was over. The thought of them leaving the house and never coming back was making his heart squeeze painfully, reminding him of the privilege he once had, but gave it up willingly. The fear was like a loop, tightening around his throat with each passing day as he grew comfortable coming home and seeing them here.

Walking into the library, Thomas was completely quiet, wanting nothing but to see her if it was all he could count on. He was completely unaware of the fact that she always felt his presence. Sometimes letting him stay, and other times making him leave so desperately that made him wonder whether it was possible to day from a broken heart.

Step after step he tried to control his shallow breathing as he finally saw her. Standing by the big shelf, he traced over the backs of books standing there for so long, it felt like they were always there.

“You wouldn't like that one” He spoke up quietly, noticing how she didn't even budge hearing his voice. It took a longer moment before she replied.

“How so?” Her voice was calm, light-hearted as she found herself lost in the countless stories filling up the wooden shelves. The nagging thoughts in his mind disappeared the second he heard her voice.

“Because you don't like uncertainty. It's filled with unanswered questions and has an open ending.” He thought for a moment before replying, well aware of the content of this book, because he read them all. In the moments of despair, trying to hold onto every scrap of feelings in the house so empty, it felt like nobody lived inside.

Sighing deeply, Y/N put the book back in its place, grabbing another one.

“Nobody likes uncertainty, Thomas. Holding onto the moment, unsure of what's to come.” She sighed, hearing his slow footsteps approaching. “A book is just a book. You can close it, and move onto another one anytime. If only life was just as easy.”

Silence in the room caused the whole scenery to become more intimate, unexpectedly even for him. Stopping mere inches behind her, he watched the back of her head for a moment, remembering the nightmares he had every night. Ones where he couldn't reach her, no matter how he tried.

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly raised his hand, moving it closer and closer towards her shoulder. Inches away, he noticed the goosebumps covering her skin. Without looking he reached out to the shelf, grasping onto the book he knew by heart, while his arm brushed against her own.

He stood close, too close, and Y/N knew it too well, yet she couldn't bring herself to make him leave or pull away. The way he trembled as his chest pressed lightly against her back made her stand still.

“You'd love this one” He whispered, not feeling brave enough to speak loudly. The uncertainty they talked about he knew better than anything else.

Her breathing became heavier, feeling him so close, the tingling on her skin she hadn't felt for so long almost made her flinch. Slowly, she turned around facing him.

This, Thomas didn't expect as she suddenly looked up, their eyes meeting in a gaze long forgotten, yet still alive and lively as when they looked for the first time.

“I don't read anymore” She confessed quietly, and his eyes couldn't help but watch her lips intently. The way they wrapped around the words she spoke.

The urge to grab and hold her closer was strong, almost too strong. Tommy tilted his head to the side, getting a better look at her face in the dim light.

“I can read it to you” He offered quietly, as it was the closest she allowed him to… just be near her.

So he waited, scared of ruining the moment as she moved closer. Their noses brushing against each other.

“I wanted you to speak, not read.” The sound of her voice was like the most beautiful music he ever got to listen to, even though the words were far from it. “...but now it's too late, and you're standing too close.” her breath touched his lips, taunting.

…and then she pulled away, leaving him standing there. Slowly making her way out of the library.

“You're cruel” He said, loud enough for Y/N to hear.

***

Y/N opened her eyes suddenly, sitting up as she took a deep breath, desperately trying to blink away the nightmare she had. The clock showed three AM in the morning, and her heart was pounding from the fear she felt. One she rarely felt anymore, feeling as Thomas was taking it over day by day, despite her unwillingness to share anything. Even the broken, ugly parts he ruined.

His cold eyes kept looking at her in the dream, so unfazed by the idea of her absence. The humiliation turned into physical tears rolling down her cheeks as the memories clouded her reasoning.

Getting up from her bed, she remembered the way he touched her. Avoiding her eyes, throwing his head back. Not bothering to bare himself, so eager to take but never give. Forcing her to pour from a completely empty cup.

Her bare feet were cold against the floor as she quickly made her way through the corridor, knowing where she'd find him. Swiftly opening the door to his office, Y/N didn't bother to say a word or wipe her tears away as she quickly walked up, not looking him in the eyes.

“Y/N?” He asked, taking his glasses off and setting them on his desk while she suddenly pulled him back, creating more space to straddle his lap. Tears kept streaming in a smaller amount, but never ending as she ripped his shirt open, baring his chest.

“What are you–” He tried to speak up, but she didn't let him, as she pressed her lips against his so aggressively his breath caught in his throat.

Pulling on his belt she unbuckled it skillfully, a motion she knew too well from all these years ago. The inner pain burned her chest as she kissed and bit him, while pushing his arms away.

“Shut up” She hissed, as the humiliation from the memories took over her mind. The shame of giving and never asking for more. Of being taken and left without any rest. Pulling his pants open she stroked him impatiently, doing just enough to get him going. It wasn't difficult, as he was the only man she ever slept with, knowing his habits and body more than she'd care to admit.

Her nails raked over his throat and chest, ripping a deep groan from his throat.

He didn't dare to ask, feeling and giving everything she wanted to take. Despite the burning, the physical attraction and need she felt was stronger, her arousal glistening and visible as she lined him up with her entrance, not caring enough to be slow or subtle as she sank down on him fully. A subtle moan pushed past her lips as she squeezed her eyes tightly, doing the same thing he used to.

His eyes were wide open, taking the beautiful sight of her on top of him, but the expression on her face made him hurt so badly, he thought he might not survive. He reached out, wanting her to look at him, but she refused, keeping her eyes squeezed tightly as she moved on top of him frantically chasing her release.

“Y/N” He begged quietly, as her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing to cause pain.

“I hate you. I hate you so much” She whimpered, as his fingers dug into her thighs.

“Please” He whispered, and she let go of his throat, digging her nails into his shoulders.

Thomas wanted to reach out to wipe her tears away, but he knew she wouldn't let him.

So he leaned forward, his forehead pressing against her collarbone when he let out a shaky breath.

“I love you” He whispered weakly, holding her tightly as she haven't stopped moving even for a second, brimming on the edge.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you” She cried out, opening her eyes as she looked down at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were half lidded but he didn't give up, staring and repeating like mantra.

“I love you” kept spilling from his lips as she reached her peak, causing him to follow right after as they reached the release.

His head fell forward, tears escaping his tired eyes as she quickly got off of him, leaving him without a word.

***

Y/N was growing increasingly restless inside of the Arrow House. Her days had been filled with reading and finding activities to keep her sons occupied, which took less time than usual, as Thomas took every opportunity to spend time with them. There was one room she had only been in once prior on this visit. She shuddered at the memory of her desperate conflicted intimacy with Thomas. Y/N knew that room would hold a concentrated form of his presence and essence, even more so after that night. She wasn’t sure if she felt strong enough to enter his sanctum again, but while Thomas was away on business and her boys were having their afternoon nap, the curiosity overcame her hesitation as she entered his space.

It was incredibly… him with deep mahogany furnishings and sumptuous emerald accents. During that night, she had paid no attention to the surroundings in the office - only to him and her inner emotions. Slowly she went deeper into his study, turning on a lamp at his desk. She could picture him here with those round glasses on, absorbed in matters of business both legitimate and less so. To the side of his desk was a small curio cabinet filled with antiquities and presumably family mementos. It hardly garnered a second thought from her until she noticed a figurine on the top shelf next to an old photograph of Thomas and his siblings. It was the figurine.

Before the war, before everything changed, she and Thomas would wander around Birmingham together - young and full of optimism. Both their families were poor and doing their best to survive in the cruel world, but they were the dreamers of their respective clans. He and Y/N often visited a certain shop that sold trinkets and collectables. Y/N yearned to be able to spend money on frivolous little objects like these one day. There was a specific figurine that she longed to own: a porcelain ballerina with graceful fingers and a white and pink lace ruffled skirt. She thought ballerinas were the most fairy-like women that walked the Earth. Of course neither of them could afford such a beautifully crafted figurine, but Y/N swore that one day they would walk in that shop and purchase her ballerina without a second thought to the cost.

That never happened, yet here it was, that same figurine she had seen so many years before sitting in Thomas’ curio cabinet in his most sacred space of his home. She didn’t know what it meant, but she felt tears prick her eyes at the reminder of those beautiful days from their youth. If only they could be like that again. If only the war and the turmoil after it hadn’t soured the tender young love they had known.

“I see you found your way back to my study” Thomas’ deep voice called from the doorway. Y/N was startled. She had been so lost in her memories and feelings that she hadn’t noticed his presence. She shifted awkwardly.

“Yeah, it seems like it.” She responded, glancing towards the curio cabinet. He slowly came up closer, a small grin on his face.

“What did you find?” Thomas asked, tilting his head to the side. Of course he knew what she saw, but wanted to hear it.

“I can’t believe you remembered my ballerina” Y/N said, not meeting his gaze.

“I went back to the shop to get it, but old Mr. Jones said he’d sold it years before. It took some hunting, but I eventually found her. I was hoping to someday show it to you, but… seems like you found her instead.”

“Why?” she questioned him in a small voice.

“Because this is how I remember you. You always said the ballerina was like a fairy or goddess come to Earth, but to me… when I saw that ballerina figure, I saw you.” Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she glanced back towards the cabinet and then back at the man in front of her. Letting out a deep sigh, she wiped her eyes.

“Why now? Why did it take you so long to… to do this? Anything. I waited so long and… and now it's too late, Thomas.” She said, looking at him with an expression that crushed him. Feeling his breath hitch painfully, he felt his throat tightening. He had grieved over losing her and now that Y/N was physically here, she had never felt more far away from him.

After looking into her eyes for a longer moment, Tommy grabbed her hand, slowly straightening it against his palm while the other one reached to his holster, pulling out his gun. Y/N’s eyes widened, but his gaze remained locked on hers, not faltering.

Finally, he didn't feel the fear. Holding the loaded gun, he slowly shoved it into her smaller hand, aiming it forward before he closed his eyes. Pushing his forehead against the muzzle tightly, keeping her wrist upright.

“Then kill me.” He said out loud, the words hanging in the air for a moment. “Because otherwise I will never let you go, no matter how hard you try.”

Thanks for reading lol bye

@iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @garrison-girl-08 @chaimaarouaine11 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @honeymoon8

@dannysankletattoo

[irisintheafterglow]

I have this extremely detailed idea for a fic LOL where you’re childhood friends with the Miya twins and also play volleyball. You end up getting injured first year of high school and end up moving to karasuno and become manager. You have a falling out with atsumu cuz he’s angry at you for leaving but ur still friends with atsumu. You run into them again at nationals and call atsumu “Miya” while calling osamu by his name which pisses atsumu off. He ends up coming to ur hotel after the loss and there’s an angry confession. I love the way you write atsumu and would love to see this fully fleshed out!!!

hello my dearest anon i'm sorry it's taken literal MONTHS for me to get to this but i kept it in my drafts so i could come back to it and do it justice !!! the angry confession lowk turned into just a straight up hurt/comfort scene but i think it's more in atsumu fashion to just straight-up fold and forget being angry if the person he loves is sobbing hehe

the twins were people you didn't remember meeting, exactly; it was like a whack-a-mole game in an arcade where one pops up in front of you and before you can push that one away, another springs to life even closer to you. as one twin bounces over to invade your peaceful sandbox, the other twin would tackle him mercilessly and end up destroying your creation anyway. jealousy was an expression you observed in atsumu from an early age, especially when you were in school and seated with osamu as your desk partner. in spite of your efforts to avoid them and their ceaseless bickering, their presence eventually became endearing as you grew with them through elementary school and middle school.

it helped that you shared their love for volleyball, often referred to as "the terror triplets" whenever you played a co-ed game. in and off the court, you filled the gaps they didn't know they had, wordlessly hurling water over the side of the boat if they were sinking. atsumu was the chaos, osamu was the wrangler, and you were the one who used reason to pull your friends out of sticky situations. their parents liked to joke that you were the reincarnated third sibling that atsumu ate in the womb, and the three of you spread that rumor in 7th grade until you were taken to the principle's for unruly behavior. for better or for worse, you were the third facet of their invincible duo, adding a glow that helped the others shine even brighter.

so it felt like the walls were crashing down when you snapped your ankle during freshman year semifinals.

atsumu had heard you scream before, specifically when you were fed up with his shenanigans and saw no other option to make him listen. your voice would be at its peak volume for so long, it would go hoarse and it was like looking a dragon in the mouth. your rage gave him goosebumps, almost a thrill that ran down his spine; but, the moment you landed wrong after a miracle jump set made him nauseous.

osamu would've missed it if he'd tuned out for a second, since it was less than a scream than a cry. one moment, you were launching from the ground to send a spike to the other end of the net, and the next you were crumpled on the linoleum, your breathing concerningly ragged. he shoots atsumu a look and they wordlessly shove their way down the stairs and onto the court, past concerned onlookers and replacing your teammates under your arms as you're removed from the game. osamu has no time to protest--nor question--his twin's motives when atsumu takes matters into his own hands and sweeps your legs from under you, carrying you against his chest and murmuring quiet words of comfort into the top of your head.

your family moves to a prefecture in the countryside less than three months later, drained from the constant excitement of the city.

"he hasn't spoken a word to me since you guys got here," you mutter to osamu in a shaded corner of your backyard. "he tell you anything?"

"you know as well as i do that he doesn't tell me shit," osamu points out and you groan.

"tsumu keeping secrets from both of us," you lament. "just the development i needed before i never see you guys again."

"don't say that." your best friend's face was gravely serious, like the prospect of never seeing you again was ailing him too. "you'll visit, won't you?"

"i'll do my best. you know they don't like me going out anymore since my injury," you say, glancing at your parents bidding goodbye to their coworkers that attended the party. "i just wish he'd tell me what's wrong."

"i don't," osamu scoffs and you blink at him, dumbfounded. "honestly, i'm pretty sure i know what's wrong with him."

"but you won't ask because..."

"because he won't stop yapping about it if i open up the topic to conversation," he bluntly explains and you find yourself waiting for elaboration.

"what could possibly be on his mind that's affecting him so badly?" at that moment, before osamu could expose his brother's melodrama, you were called away by your parents and what atsumu was hiding, you never found out. two hours later, you were watching your best friends become smaller and smaller out of the car window.

---

when you first sign on to be a manager for karasuno's volleyball club, you truly don't think they'll make it to nationals. in fact, you hoped they wouldn't make it so you could continue to stay out late and could avoid thinking about the now-blonde twin who was suddenly ignoring your messages. your days were spent so long surrounded by the monster twins and their equally monstrous friends at inarizaki; it was bittersweetly refreshing to see such a rag-tag collection of rowdy individuals that, by some stroke of luck, could mesh together well enough to call themselves a team. so, when you're on the bus to nationals after defeating the strongest team in the prefecture, you're just as surprised and shocked as the rest of them to be in the city.

"didn't you spend your first year in tokyo?" kiyoko asks quietly, peering out the window over the rim of her glasses at the towering skyline.

"i did, but moved out here when my parents got tired of the city," you explain. "i haven't been back since."

"and you never visited?" her question isn't accusatory, just unsettlingly attentive as your fellow manager tended to be. your mind pushes forth the memory of your promise to osamu, and your simultaneous bridge burning with atsumu. whether you struck the match or he did, you couldn't tell.

"well, i-uh," you hesitate and she waits patiently for your reply, "i just never got around to it. strict parents and whatnot."

"i see. do you still have any friends here?" there's a clear image at the forefront of your psyche now, two shadows of twins you once knew standing between your new team and victory. "i know you played before your accident, so maybe we'll see some people you know." you can feel her words prodding you like a shepherd with a stick, herding you into sharing more about your past than you're comfortable admitting.

"yeah," you chuckle with blatant anxiety. the look on her face tells you she's reading straight through your white lies, but she doesn't push any further. "maybe we will."

as luck would have it, you run into the one team you did not want to interact with for as long as possible. after wanting to walk off the nerves of the following day's matches, you and a few of the more restless players decided to explore the area near the inn. you're barely two blocks away from the entrance doors when you spot two silhouettes burned into your memory from childhood, wrapped in bright red inarizaki track jackets.

"those guys look like a team we might play," you hear hinata mutter to kageyama, who puts no effort into hiding his distaste toward your former school. "i heard kita, the white-haired guy, is the captain, and he's like the conductor of an orchestra--"

"the twins he controls are brutal," daichi suddenly declares from next to you and you nearly jump out of your skin. the mob of red was slowly approaching your mob of black, going opposite directions on the same sidewalk and inevitably on track to collide. a true trainwreck, to say the least. "they move like a two-headed snake and are backed by the rest of the team, who have talent in their own right." step by step, your past and your present draw closer and you suddenly have the urge to hurl.

"i know that's your old team," kiyoko leans in and whispers so that only you can hear. you freeze. "if you wanna avoid them, i'll go back to the inn with you. sawamura has it from here." by the time you give her a grateful smile and open your mouth to reply, it's too late. the inarizaki and karasuno teams stop parallel to each other and you don't have time for hiding.

osamu spots you first.

"well if it isn't the pride of 'the terror triplets' returning to their hometown," he teases with an easy smile, stepping out from the group to greet you. you feel karasuno's gawking expressions follow you as you wrap your arms around osamu for the first time in a year, squeezing him like a sibling back from university.

"is it just me, or did your hair get greyer?" he shrugs one lazy shoulder and you turn your attention to your upperclassmen, who regard you with the same brotherly affection. "kita. ojiro. it's nice to see you again."

"nice to have you back," ojiro replies. "this is your new team?" you're abruptly made aware of your new players watching you in confusion and turn to them with a burning face. after explaining your history with inarizaki and reassuring them that you weren't going to abandon karasuno at nationals, they begrudgingly continue onward and let kiyoko and sugawara stay behind to keep an eye on you (and this alien new team you're associated with).

"he misses you. it's annoying," suna grumbles when you finally have the chance to catch up with him. you don't need to clarify that suna is referring to atsumu. in fact, you'd clocked him as soon as you spotted the team at the other end of the street; it was nearly impossible not to miss the sunshine-blonde hair sticking out from the middle. "but he's angry at you at the same time for abandoning us."

"i didn't abandon you guys," you protest. "my parents made me leave."

"and yet you never visted," suna counters blandly with his signature expressionless expression, but you can tell there was the slightest bit of hurt behind his words. "we miss hanging out with you. the miyas miss you. he misses you."

"you said that already," you frown. "if he misses me so bad, why's he made himself scarce all of a sudden?"

"he's hiding in the back, moping," he informs you. you peek around the towering shoulders of their tallest blockers and spot him, sinking into the stiff collar of his track jacket, eyes trained on whatever bullshit app on his phone. anything to avoid interacting with you. your heart pangs for a moment, but the pain is quickly forgotten when you remember how he'd ghosted you when you left.

you only speak to him once before you return to the karasuno players, when you're saying your goodbyes. he makes the mistake of reattaching himself to his twin's hip, a habit that he would never break.

"osamu," you nod at the gray-haired twin with a fond smile before your eye flick to the twin beside him. atsumu looks hauntingly good, coldly calculating and still with the dimple above the right side of his mouth. your smile falters, the light fizzling out from your eyes until nothing is left but a longing ache.

you say it without thinking, without knowing the ramifications that would arise in the following days. the single word spoken directly to atsumu's face enrages him more than when you left, when you tried to maintain contact, and when you ultimately stopped sending check-in messages. he misses you so badly, it feels like his chest is being torn open.

miya, you murmur curtly before turning on your heel and slipping through his fingers again.

---

"how did you know inarizaki was my old team?" you ask kiyoko when you return to the hotel the following evening, still riding the high of karasuno's lucky win over the foxes. you smiled with the crows and cheered them on as much as you could, but found yourself watching your former upperclassmen's disappointment sag in their bodies. you had to look away from kita as he finally broke down and ended up waiting for the rest of karasuno in the lobby, heartbroken witnessing your past (and what could have been your future) any further. "i mean, i appreciate you giving me an out when we first saw them. i really do. i'm just wondering how you knew."

"your water bottle," she answers simply. "i kept wondering where the fox sticker came from, and recognized it on their jackets when they walked closer." your mouth opens in a small ah of understanding, hugging a pillow close while your fellow manager finished getting ready for bed. "why'd you never visit? or tell karasuno about where you came from?"

"it was less painful to just move on," you admit, "or so i thought." burying your face in the pillow to hide your shame, you glance up and find kiyoko watching you sympathetically. "atsumu, the uh, blonde setter. i lost him when i moved." your voice cracks and your emotions threaten to spill over uncontrollably. by some miracle you maintain your composure but fall silent for a minute while you collect your thoughts. kiyoko waits again for you to continue, sitting across from you on the floor between your sleeping mats. "i stayed close with osamu because the only relationship i've ever had with him was platonic, but after my accident, and how 'tsumu took care of me..."

"you're in love with him," she finishes with a small sad smile. "but you've both chosen your sides and don't want to cross over. i saw it in your face every time we interacted with them." you nod weakly, pulling a blanket over your shoulders to further hide yourself. "what will you do if you never see him again?" you stare at her, heart sinking to your gut at the possibility. you peer at her through increasingly watery vision, tugging on a jacket and slipping on your shoes before you can even think.

you've barely stepped into the frigid winter air and swiped to osamu's contact on your phone when you collide with something firm and warm. you tilt your head up and feel like you're in a dream; somehow, you'd summoned him to karasuno's tiny inn with a few tears and lots of regret.

"what in the hell are you doing out so late--" oh. any lingering words of wrath, frustration, or heartache catch in atsumu's throat as you throw your arms around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. he tenses for half a second, a deer-in-headlights brain malfunction, before snaking one arm around your waist and clutching the back of your head with his hand. you exhale a shaky sigh of relief when he returns your embrace which gives way to all the longing you'd bottled up for a year. when he makes to pull away, presumably to finally speak to you, you shake your head and hold him tighter.

"no," you plead, your soul bare for him to destroy. "don't make me leave." your last syllables devolve into a sob and you're choking for air against his chest. "please." he shushes you gently, carefully taking your face in one calloused hand and guiding you to look at him. his eyes are red and swollen from the day's loss, and tears run down in well-worn tracks across his cheeks. your thumb swipes them to the side as they fall and he doesn't try to pull away. one embrace and he's folding like a card table. maybe this was what he wanted all along.

"even after everything, i can't ever see you cry," he croaks. you can tell he's at war with himself, part of him wanting to cuss you out, scream at you for abandoning him, give you every angry piece of his mind that you avoided since your going-away party. yet, there's also the other half that compelled him to run to karasuno's accommodations in the first place just to see you; the part of him that ached for you and felt you closer than before, the part that said you needed him.

"i don't-i don't know what to do," you sniffle. "you hate me, and i--"

"i could never hate you," he promises adamantly. his anger forgotten, he just needs you to know that you're okay. "i hate that you left me...and that you called me my damn surname to my face...and that your new team won by sheer luck." you manage a watery laugh as he continues to commit every subtle movement of your face to memory (atsumu didn't know if he'd ever had the chance again). he offers a smile, something soft and endearing that he hopes you'll mirror. when you don't, he pulls you back into his chest and lets you ride out the rest of your breakdown. "i could never hate you. i love you too much."

"even when i'm ugly crying?" your voice is small and muffled, but it gets through to his freezing ears anyways. "and i manage a team that beat you?"

"i don't like when you do either, but i'll still love you anyways," he murmurs. "now let's get you out of the cold, i'm freezing my ass off and i was planning on confessing inside anyway."

---

even though you're the upperclassman manager after kiyoko graduates, ukai still lets you ditch a day of training camp to hop on a train to tokyo. the twins are waiting at the station when you step out, atsumu's inarizaki track jacket draped over his forearm. when he spots you as you round the corner, he meets you halfway and lifts you off your feet, spinning you around with a giddy grin on his face. before you can utter a word, he stops you and guides your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, forcing you to wear it before he listens to anything you say.

"hi, darling."

"hey, baby," he coos, taking your bag and slinging it over his swoon-worthy shoulder. "how was the train?"

"good. couldn't sit still, i was so excited," you reply, slipping your hand easily in his. "yo, miya," you say in greeting to the other twin. poor atsumu flinches slightly, still sore about you calling him by his surname during last year's nationals. his brother, however, is entirely unaffected.

"tsumu hasn't shut up about you for six days straight," osamu deadpans, but you catch the affection in his eyes when he reaches out to lightly punch your shoulder. "six days until they get here! five hours until they get here! two minutes until they get here!" you burst out laughing at osamu's impression of his brother, his voice an octave higher and mockingly sing-songy. "i'm glad you're here, but mostly i'm glad that now he can shut the hell up."

"i could never shut up about them," atsumu corrects, glancing at you with a lopsided grin. "i just love you too much."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[oceanicwriting]

you... love me?

part one. part two.

summary: one afternoon, while you're going home from work, you run into that man who had become a complete stranger in your life. how much had things changed? how much could you remember from that encounter?

pairing(s): theodore nott x fem!reader

a/n: this is part two of another story that's addressed above. you don't need to read the first one, but you might like it! i really liked this ending :-).

maybe angst...

ㅤㅤㅤ—mattheo's an asshole —hellen, your best friend, whines on the other end of the phone—. i swear i had no idea he'd invited everyone, including...

ㅤㅤㅤ—you don't have to worry. —you try to sound calm, but you weren't calm at all—. it's been a long time since we last saw each other. we must be over it, right?

ㅤㅤㅤ—that's the question i should ask you, don't you think?

ㅤㅤㅤit's been three and a half years since you last saw your ex-boyfriend from school who, at the last moment of the relationship, ended up being a complete stranger. so many things happened in the last months of the relationship that, after ending due to the tiredness of the repetitive arguments, avoiding him was a game in which you became an expert.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm completely over it. —you lie, stopping the supermarket cart in the fruit section.

ㅤㅤㅤ—of course. —the voice of your friend on the other end of the line extends the letter o, making you roll your eyes—. is that why you haven't been with anyone since then?

ㅤㅤㅤ—because i haven't wanted to, hellen —you answer, laughing as you grab some apples to put in the bag.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you really think i've believed you every time you tell me that? i feel like you're always waiting for him. you want him to show up in your life as a completely different person, but every time i try to talk about him with you, you...

ㅤㅤㅤin the middle of the speech, one of the apples slips out of your hands, rolling across the neat floor of the supermarket until it hits the feet of a man on the other side of the displays. you turn around, still hearing your friend's voice prattling about everything that's wrong with your love life, but as soon as that man turns to pick up the apple, the entire world succumbs to silence.

ㅤㅤㅤbrown hair, messy and wavy, falling over his pale forehead. those blue eyes, hidden behind long, almost sleepy, drooping eyelashes, are glued to yours. you had the feeling that he had grown taller, or perhaps it was the musculature that widened his shoulders. he was well dressed in a black suit and long coat that gave him an overly adult air.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theodore —you say, perplexed.

ㅤㅤㅤ—yes, i'm talking about theodore. are you listening to me...?

ㅤㅤㅤ—hellen, i'll call you later.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore hasn't moved, and you have the feeling that he's as stunned as you are by the materialization of your body in front of him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—hello. —the sound of his voice hasn't stopped affecting your heart rate, giving you goosebumps with the simple, carefree greeting—. you look... good.

ㅤㅤㅤyou smile, unable to do anything else in the face of the comment.

ㅤㅤㅤ—miss, could you let me pick some apples? —an adult lady with more wrinkles than you could imagine appears next to you, forcing you to move your cart—. thank you.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore has also moved, being closer to each other. in your nose, you can feel the scent of his body hit hard, making you smell the air around you more than necessary.

ㅤㅤㅤ—this is yours —he says, extending the apple that was in his hand.

ㅤㅤㅤ—yes, thank you...

ㅤㅤㅤyour hands wrap around the fruit, brushing your fingertips against theodore's skin. it was as cold as you remembered, rough as unused sandpaper and electrifying as it had always been. everything felt so familiar that a current of panic runs through your spine.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what are you doing here? —you ask, feeling your voice shoot out in a fear-filled question—. i mean, here, in london.

ㅤㅤㅤand you weren't going to lie because more than once, you heard the voices of his friends saying that he was still in italy.

ㅤㅤㅤ—work and mattheo's engagement party —he says. with each word that left his lips, the air became lighter, allowing you to lower your defenses—. who knew he would be the first to get engaged?

ㅤㅤㅤyou laugh softly, noticing how theodore doesn't take his eyes off your happy expression. maybe after a long time things were different for both of you and you had to make the effort to disassociate your last experiences with him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—hellen can be very insistent when she wants to. —your whole body reacts to the smile you swore had gotten over, but he manages to send all kinds of sensations to your body—. you...? would you come with me? i still have things to buy.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore looks at you, calm. his eyes have not left yours at any time, and you are sure that everyone has started to look at you strangely for standing there. then, he nods, making you release all the air you have been holding in your lungs.

ㅤㅤㅤas you wander around the supermarket you discover that theodore is still working as an astronomy teacher at the italian school of wizards and witches, he hasn't seen the boys since he left but they write letters to each other frequently, and he's had more than two partners since he finished school.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how about you? —he asks, picking up your bags to help you with them to the exit door—. are you going with someone to the engagement party?

ㅤㅤㅤand it's a moment, small as an ant against the planet, that you have the memory of that conversation between you. you remember how theodore dreamed of seeing you wear a white dress, walking to the altar where he would wait for you, surrounded by the people you loved and full of emotion. that had happened that year of your relationship, where everything was dyed pink before burning to ashes.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i... i'll go alone —you answer, unable to look at him because of the shame. theodore had gotten over you, and you had waited for him for a long time in the hopes of finding a new man—. thanks for carrying the bags.

ㅤㅤㅤhe could notice the way your uneasy gaze falls to the ground, handing over the bags and feeling the current from your body pass through his.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're welcome.

ㅤㅤㅤand the truth of the matter is that not seeing each other for so long, right after breaking up the way you did, hadn't given way for either of you to grow. it's like you've both stopped in time because something was still tying you so tightly that moving forward was impossible. you turn around, ready to walk to the opposite side of theodore, but his voice stops you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i lied to you. —he's firm, chasing away any trace of fear that blooms in the darkness of the sky—. i lied to you when i said that i've had partners in these years. since you left me, i haven't been able to move forward with my life.

ㅤㅤㅤyou turn to see him, noticing his blue eyes shining with honesty.

ㅤㅤㅤ—because you were right. —that makes you frown—. when someone loves you, they trust. when someone loves you, they listen. and if i loved you... i should never have done all the harm i did to you. and i know that i didn't love you, not like i should have.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo...

ㅤㅤㅤ—and i waited all these years for you to come back like every time we argued when we were younger —he says, laughing bitterly—. that shows that i haven't been able to change.

ㅤㅤㅤeven though his words were loaded with a farewell, instead of shedding tears for the beating of your heart, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i have to learn to love, and i'm sure i couldn't do it with you, because after a long time, i was still waiting for you to come back as if nothing had happened.

ㅤㅤㅤ—and i was hoping you'd come back a different man, theodore —you admit, smiling melancholy—. if you had said what i wanted to hear, i don't think anything would have stopped me from accepting it. would we have ended up in the same circle as years ago? no?

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore nods, letting out a long sigh.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm happy we can accept it —you say, smiling at the way all your fears have disappeared, and not because of his presence, but because you've cut that tie that bound you two—. i feel like i can move on with my life now.

ㅤㅤㅤhe agrees, and you both smile one last time before walking in your directions. sometimes, two people who love each other aren't made to be together, even if they feel so strongly attracted to each other. theodore and you loved each other a lot, but at the same time, you managed to understand that a life together wasn't for you.

dedicated to @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife, sorry if it isn't what you expected, and i hope you like it! xoxo

[jaylaxies]

KINKTOBER DAY 25 — PRAISE KINK

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, bartender!heeseung, lots of praising, usage of nicknames, breeding.

WC: 1.1k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! praise kink w hee for my lovely @starrywonie (i hope you’ll enjoy this!) all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“So fucking pretty when you take my cock like that, princess.” 

You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted to be fucked by someone this bad, but your feelings were valid, especially when the guy you were crushing on was Lee Heeseung, as his name tag said. 

Going to clubs wasn’t something you derived pleasure from per se, which soon changed when your eyes took in the bartender who was more than eager to serve you for the night. 

He was the prettiest man you had ever seen. 

With his hair pushed back and the first few buttons open, it gave you the best view you could’ve asked for. His smirk only made your heart beat faster, the scent of his cologne maddening as he leaned by the counter to whisper in your ear, “you’re the prettiest girl in the room,” he had told you. 

His voice replayed in your mind even when you had gone back to your place, touching yourself to the thought of him. He had easily given you an excuse to visit the club more often, which was a win win, given that your friends won’t have you drag you out and you can stay at the bar the entire time, talking to the bartender. 

He found it beyond attractive how you returned his energy each time he flirted with you, but what made him actually act out was when the alcohol finally kicked in, and so did your urge to dance. His work was long forgotten as he handed it over to a coworker, watching the way you move your body to each beat, thorough enjoyment seeping through you. A gasp left your lips when he got behind you, moving his hips in sync with no space left between you two. 

He was quick to press himself on your ass, his arms around your waist caging you perfectly and you felt your skin getting warm by the second, even more so when you heard him groan right by your ear before he nibbled on your lobe, asking if you wanted to get out of here, wetness pooling in your panties with his deep tone. 

You thanked the lords that he lived nearby, because you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself any further, which seemed to be the case with Heeseung as well. 

He was quick to pin you against the door the second he entered his apartment, a gasp leaving your mouth as he caged you between his arms, coming closer till your lips brushed against his, “you’re beautiful,” he mumbled, capturing your lips in a rushed kiss, knocking breath out of your lungs. 

The praise made you shiver, your breaths growing heavier as he swiftly pulled down your dress, exposing your hardened nipples to him. His tongue swiped across your nipples, his strokes broad and confident before he wrapped his mouth around it, sucking firmly while his other hand caressed and punched your other nipple, taking turns to focus on them both. 

Your moans were loud as you didn’t do much to conceal them, “such sweet noises,” he groaned, his thumb pads rough against your skin, creating the perfect friction for your knees to go weak to the point he has to hold you up. 

He chuckles, “so cute, so fucking small,” he whispered against your skin, giving you goosebumps as he finally pulled back to get rid of all your clothing, guiding you to his bed. 

You leaned in for his lips again but he moved back, watching you chase him helplessly as a whimper left your mouth, “want me to kiss you, hm?” He asked, teasing further, licking your neck, sucking harder to get an answer out of you. 

“Yes—yes please!” You threw your head back to give him more space to kiss and lick the expanse of your neck, his arm holding you firmly under him. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered and you sighed, taking his name breathily, his lips finally meeting yours in another rushed kiss, and he continued to kiss you till you both couldn’t breathe anymore, leaning back for air. 

Yet Heeseung couldn’t stop, he had to appreciate every inch of your body, lips all over your skin, “oh god,” you whisper, voice shaky, a shiver running down your spine with how effortlessly he whispered praises while touching you, setting your body on fire as he went on kissing lower and lower. 

His warm breath fanned your cunt, your thighs closing with the sensation but his strong arms didn’t let it happen, his lips ghosting over your clit, teasing you, lifting your leg onto his shoulder for better access to your folds, “don’t tease, please, Hee.”

You moaned when he immersed himself, not having it in him to deny you pleasure any further, especially when you were being a darling and saying please. 

He sucks your clit, prodding his tongue between your lips to run long strokes along your folds, your fingers gripping his roots as you mewl with pleasure when his tongue slipped in your entrance, your back arching while he continued his ministrations. 

“Taste so sweet, baby,” he hummed, “wanna fuck you,” he spoke against your wetness and you nodded, begging him to put his cock in you.  

Heeseung grasped his cock, pumping it a few times as he got up to kiss your lips yet again, and you felt as if you were drunk in his essence. He pushed his cock in slowly, watching your expressions carefully, trying to memorize them, “fuck! You’re so pretty, I could do this each day,” he groaned. 

He pumped into you slowly, watching your eyes roll back with unadulterated pleasure seeping through your body, he felt so devoted to you, and you reciprocated all of it by pulling him in another kiss, as if he was the reason why you felt so drunk, so intoxicated. He grabbed your hips, thrusting in harder once you got used to his length, which was bigger than you had ever experienced before. 

“So close,” you bit your bottom lip to conceal your moans, which got louder each second, just like Heeseung’s breaths. 

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well,” he rasped, his dick twitching at the sight of you shivering underneath him, your release rapidly approaching. 

With your hips bucking up uncontrollably, you wished you could feel this bliss forever, the warmth of Hee’s cum in your cunt, the sheer pleasure you received as you reached your high, and his sweet praises which helped you calm down. 

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered. 

You wanted it again, and Heeseung was more than ready to give it to you. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[peachsayshi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁ sex worker!suguru geto x rich girl!reader ₊ ⊹ .

⊹ tags: nudity; post-sex; slightly angsty; au

:about: you grew up in a supremely wealthy household, but that came with a price. you've never had control over your own life, and now your father is set to marry you off. distraught by the news, you decide to call your contact for comfort.

:note: I don't know why but I've been thinking about this au a lot recently and I'm completely obsessed. I have so many aus for my faves and really wanted to spend some time exploring them more!

wc: 1,067

"an arranged marriage, huh?" suguru whispers, his sharp eyes dipping to your naked chest while his delicate fingers carefully push the bedsheet further down to your hips.

you inch a little closer into his frame, soaking in the outlines of his chiseled torso and bring one finger to trace little shapes on his broad shoulder. your brows furrow with annoyance, "yeah, you ever heard of the zenin family?"

suguru scoffs, breaking character for only a second. it's something that you've started noticing recently. that he doesn't hold his reactions around you as tightly as he used to. the front of this alter ego that he created has started to falter, but you find yourself drawn to the person existing underneath the mask of the seducer.

you sigh, "my father thinks naoya zenin is a perfect match for me."

an uneasy expression flickers across suguru's face, but he suppresses it before allowing it to linger.

you lift yourself up onto your elbow and rest your head on your palm. "what is it?"

suguru mimics your position, his large hand gliding back and forth over the slope of your hips and waistline. it sends goosebumps all over your body, your mind going back to the first time when you met him in person.

you still vividly remember his reaction. the way his eyes widened, and the quirk of his brow as he addressed you.

"you're young," he blurted.

"we're around the same age," you replied defensively, already feeling insecure for having hired him after you spent weeks watching his videos. you didn't even know about his house calls until you heard it from a source within your social circle. " is this how you greet all your clients?"

suguru boldly checks you out, "my other clients don't look like you..."

over time you learned that he catered to a specific demographic: older divorcees and cheating housewives.

the person you might turn into twenty years from now if this marriage goes through.

a knot forms in your stomach.

"I've heard that naoya..." suguru explains, pinching the pads of his fingers lightly against your flesh before leaning forward to kiss the crease between your brows. "can be a handful to deal with..."

you thread your fingers around his neck, your lips finding his jaw where you return a kiss. "and who told you that?" you murmur, as the weight of suguru's body rolls on top of yours.

a wicked smile ticks at the corners of his lips, and you're staring at his devastatingly handsome face from below. the longer you spent time with him the more you began to wonder about his circumstances.

the same thought constantly crosses your mind time and time again.

suguru could truly be anything he wanted but instead he was here making a killing off of fucking lonely women and making porn videos.

you aren't here to judge his choices, but you can't help but feel puzzled by the situation.

his smile gives you the answer. his source regarding naoya zenin thanks to a client, but suguru has a confidentiality policy and shares nothing about the other women he beds.

you shiver when his mouth meets your neck, his lips sucking along the tender skin that sends goosebumps all over your chest but there's an ache in your heart when you consider that if it wasn't for the signed cheque in your purse, he wouldn't even be here in the first place.

not a single man you've met in the world compares to suguru. not only was he beautiful beyond comprehension, but he had striking charm and was extremely smart. you found yourself enjoying his company beyond physical purposes, and conversations with him turned out to be one of your favorite ways to pass time.

"think we'll still get together when you're a missus?" he teases, his lips trailing lower to your collar bones and hovering just a above your breasts covered with the hickeys that he's left.

the thought of getting married makes you sick.

"do you peg me as a terrible wife? a woman who would happily cheat on her husband?" you question, your voice small and trembling when suguru circles his lips around your hard nipple.

he hums, drawing out a whimper when he nips at the bud lightly.

"no," he answers, his voice dropping an octave and your mind swirls when you contemplate if that strange tone is actually jealousy. he rests his chin on your chest, his inky hair framing his face in a waterfall of obsidian. "I do, however, peg naoya as a terrible husband"

you sink your fingers into his locks. "it doesn't matter who my father chooses, they are all the same. naoya is no worse than the rest. I'm trapped regardless..."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," suguru responds sincerely, the sweetness in his voice the reason why your eyes prick with tears.

you sniffle, using your free hand to wipe away a rogue droplet freely falls down your cheek. suguru softens his expression, adjusting his position so he was laying by your side. he doesn't say anything but draws you into his chest for a hug, enveloping you in his warmth. you try hard not to consider the reality of the situation, and accept the gesture freely as you cuddle against him.

the moment of peace is interrupted by a loud vibration. you and suguru both perk up to stare at his phone buzzing on the side table.

your heart sinks.

another client.

suguru reaches his arm around to grab the phone, and you close your eyes as you inhale his natural scent, trying to soak him in for as long as you can. but to your surprise he simply switches it off, and wraps his arm back around you to return to his position.

"you sure you don't need to take that?" you mumble, trying to play off your disappointment as casually as possible.

"I'm booked out for the rest of the evening," he answers nonchalantly, "there's no reason to respond."

a flutter in your belly sends a tingle all over your skin. "but...your cheque only covers the hours we agreed on..."

two fingers touch the underside of your chin, and suguru tilts your head up so you were both face to face again. "don't worry about it, doll," he consoles, his thumb lightly outlining your bottom lip, "this is on the house."

[justliketoreadsowhat]

Sweater Weather ✰

✩𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 & 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 ✩

𝐀/𝐧; 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 & 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭

_______________________________________________

𝐈’𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐓“ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭. 

Today was one of the last college visits you had scheduled for the week, Becoming a transfer student was not something you had planned, but you no longer felt the desire you once felt as a freshman attending Ohio State University for the first time. 

The dire decision was made to pick your top 5 schools and visit them, one of them being Uconn. 

Traveling out of state was one obstacle, but attending a school that was strongly known for their sports was a different type of catch. 

“Girl please!” your sister Breah scolded as she sat on the edge of the bed watching you go back and forth on what to wear. “Your best bet is to wear bright colors and stand out on this huge campus, do you know how many fine athletes walk around here daily?!” she spiraled, throwing herself on the bed to her detriment. 

“Breah, we are not here for athletes remember? we’re here for a new environment and better educat-“ 

“DON’T give me that speech again, you have to realize college just isn’t about academics. Let yourself live a little at least” 

You’ve heard that line at least 20 times this week, and it’s only Wednesday, yet you’d be lying to yourself if you said she was wrong. 

“I am I am, I just want to get a good feel for everything before I make my decision y’know?” you said fiddling with your pedant that hung way too low on your chest for your liking. 

“Oh, sis this is it! you must’ve for Paige Bueckers goes here” she stated sitting up swiftly, ready to defend her statement, she knew you’d disagree.  “What more do you need from a University?” 

An immediate nerve struck throughout your body listening to the words flow from her mouth at a fast pace. Your eyes couldn’t resist rolling, “You will not focus this visit all on one girl you saw on TikTok!, be so for real right now” 

She busted out laughing from your reaction, almost as if she was in disbelief, “We both know she’s not just some girl y/n, she’s quite literally everywhere we look, social media, advertisements, I mean we haven’t even been on this campus for 30 minutes and I have seen her face on every poster possible!” 

She wasn’t lying either, Paige’s face was plastered on every corner possible here in Connecticut. You didn’t even want to mention the TIktok epidemic that had flooded your “for you page” after liking one singular video. 

“Yeah well she’s just.. a good player and-“ 

“She’s fine human and she just so happens to be good at many things, now let’s go tour this place, it’s going to be your new home for the next 3 years whether you like it or not” jumping from the spot she’s been sitting in for a prolonged amount of time, she grabbed your hand dragging you out the door from your shared suite.  You didn’t feel the need to argue with her anymore, the feeling of nervousness began to replace the urge for another bickering episode between the two of you. 

Moving the the double doors, the cool air hit your face sending goosebumps to greet your skin. “I thought it was supposed to be a little warmer down here” 

“Mm.. me too but, maybe if we walk a little faster we’ll warm up, just hold tight in your cute little sweater” Breah beamed at you before continuing her tug at your hand walking toward a path with brick and a sidewalk that could barely fit two people. 

“Do you even know where we’re going?, you’re just following your thoughts with no directions, can we at least ask someone where the student center is?” you pleaded, hoping her eager tangent would be put to a halt. 

“No we’re fine, how hard can it be to find a brick building that literally has “student center” right in front of it. she panned shrugging her shoulders without a care in the world. There had to be at least 10 buildings that were brick and ironically, the names were not in big and bold letters. 

The two of you stop dead in your tracks as you realize you’re now faced with 3 brick buildings that look nearly identical, unfortunately, there are no names, just 4 digit numbers painted and embossed on the front right above the large windows. 

“How hard could it be right?” you mocked her, letting go of her hand, fishing for your phone in your back pocket in need google maps assistance. 

"Well, I guess it's time to find out"

Before you could protest, her grip tightened on your hand as she led you right into the buildings, the automatic sliding doors revealed a spacious lobby, navy blue and white accent colors surrounded the walls. 

The scent of warm amber and fresh linen filled the air,  everything had a sense of calmness. 

"You know.. you had a point about her face being everywhere" taking a couple of steps back trying to examine the huge headshot of Paige's face aligned against the wall, accompanied by the rest of her teammate’s pictures all in unison. 

Your amusement quickly faded as you soon realized this was in fact, NOT where you were supposed to be. 

"Breah this is not the right place!" barely reaching above a whisper, praying nobody noticed the two of you sticking out like sore thumbs. 

"Well it might be.. maybe I can help, there's a map behind our pictures somewhere" an familiar voice chimed in with a soft yet high-pitched tone, causing your eyes to meet direct contact with a girl who was at least 3 times your height, big curly hair that nearly covered her eyes, vibrant brown skin that complemented her stature. 

And to no surprise, she was wearing a "UCONN Women's Basketball" long-sleeve shirt with matching sweats accented in navy blue. 

Great

"Um, that'd be great actually-" you paused frantically looking over all of the headshots searching for the familiar face that was standing nearly inches away from you. 

"Oh! my fault, I'm Aubrey" she smiled pointing at her picture proudly.

She was stunning, her smile was perfect, your sister quickly caught onto the thought roaming through your mind. 

"Oh! nice to meet you Aubrey, I'm Breah and this is my sister y/n!, we were looking for the student center, but this could work" interjecting herself with great stealth, it hardly ever fails. 

You carefully watched Aubrey's body language as she shamelessly let her eyes wander between the two of you, her eyes drifting back to your sweater, you could nearly see the whirlwind behind her eyes, you could slowly feel the sensation of regret grow seemingly stronger within yourself, this was a terrible idea. 

"I can walk you guys over there if you want, it's not that easy to find honestly" she shrugged, her tall frame leaned up against the wall, "but first, I think we need to take y/n to see the person who stole her fit" she smirked, motioning you to follow her lead down the long, brightly lit hallway" 

"I- I'm sorry who??" you staggered trying to gain an answer from her, if she thought playing a joke on you about the sweater was going to reel you in, this was definitely the last time you'd be seeing this place. 

You soon found yourself speed walking, trying to keep up with her legs was not anything you had prepared for. Glancing back to your sister behind you, she was smiling to herself admiring the entirety of the situation unfolding right before her eyes. 

The three of you came to a stop mid-way through the pursuit, Aubrey opened a transparent door that led to a well-furnished living room, gray couches, maple brown tables, and of course, navy-colored carpet covered the floor. 

Safe to say you were a sucker for good color coordination, that was until you saw a figure with colors that didn't match the area not one bit. 

"Aye P look! I found your twin, Nikka has some competition now" Aubrey laughed gently patting your shoulder, her large hands held the weight you were not expecting, but the feeling soon subsided as your eyes met Paige’s blue irises. They were way brighter in person, but not as bright as her sweater as she was dressed in the same one you wore, a long white t-shirt flowed beneath hers that fit perfectly with her tall stature. Her cream-colored cargo pants had enough pockets for two people, yet she somehow made the outfit look so well put together.

She was gorgeous

“I mean I’d like to say I wear it better but, you look pretty good in it yourself” her eyes roaming your figure, causing heat to rise throughout your body, she knew exactly what she was doing. 

Forcing a small smile to form upon your lips to prevent your knees from buckling, “Well thank you...” words were not forming in your brain “Where’d you get yours from? you asked pointing at her fit. 

“I thrifted it” she said proudly, looking down as if it was her most proud possession. There’s no way a woman as wealthy as Paige willingly goes to the thrift store, or so you thought.  

“Yeahh, what she won’t tell you is that I’m the one who found it for her” Aubrey chimed in shaking her head in disbelief “give credit when it’s due”

“Well you guys all have a good sense of fashion soo, why don’t you guys take pictures!” Breah examined yanking out her digital camera she had been dying to use ever since she bought it. 

Paige laughed at her sudden burst of energy, but the idea riddled something in her mind. “We can go downtown and take some when the sun goes down, the scenery always looks better at night, it’ll make your colors pop”

“You mean our colors pop, you’re taking some flick’s too right?” hoped laced in your tone.

“Oh most definitely, I would never turn down the opportunity to take pictures with someone as beautiful as you"

Suddenly there was no need search any farther, you officially knew where you wanted to spend the rest of your years.

[marypaol]

Cold Heart

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Aftermath of a fight, soft angst, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader and Draco have a fight over something they can’t even remember and they sleep in separate beds. But all that changes when Reader has a nightmare.

Note: I don’t use Y/N, if that’s okay :)

***

The feelings inside her chest were unbearable. It was a feeling of loneliness and hurt settling in her chest making her feel uneasy. The tension between them was thick yet awkward at the same time, so thick she didn’t know what to say next. Like if she tried to say something the air would drown out her words and they would be faded before they even reached his ears.

The so called fight was horrible. They both said things they didn’t mean, and called each other names they didn’t really think each other were. Their actions were foolish, getting upset over something that wasn’t important enough to affect their relationship. The thing neither of them would admit is that they didn’t even remember how it started. That was the thing about arguments. Once they start they keep adding up until it explodes, but no one knows what set it of in the first place.

The girl felt small under his sharp gaze, the once soft eyes that looked at her were now hard and stern. The sudden cold air made her shiver but of course he had no reaction. He just stood there, staring her down, making her more uncomfortable by the minute.

She swallowed her regret and pain for the night, deciding to deal with it the next day. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.” She mumbled oh so quietly, not even sure he heard her and slowly made her way to the bedroom, her feet softly padding on the floor the only sound in the room besides Draco’s breathing.

Draco didn’t do anything to stop her, not even changing his body language as a sign he wanted her to stay. It was almost like he wanted her to leave, wanted her to sleep in a separate bed just because they couldn’t act like mature adults properly solving out their relationship problems. So he stood there watching her leave and still watched as door closed, leaving him with the wood staring at him. The man sighed, running a rough pale hand through his even paler hair, tugging at the strands until it hurt. His hand went to his chest next, tugging harshly at the tie that was tied at the collar, something that seemed to be getting tighter each minute. He felt like he was being choked. He untied it and threw it hardly on the ground, the fabric making a sharp slapping noise. He himself was cold, the unexplained breeze sending shivers up his arms as he traveled to their bedroom, totally expecting her sleeping figure to be there, soft skin laying on the silk sheets, eyelashes tangled together as her eyes fluttered from time to time. But he know that even when that happened she wouldn’t wake, for that was a sign she was in deep slumber, not planning on getting out of it any time soon. But once he walked in he found the temperature even colder; the absence of the girl seeming to have an effect on the atmosphere itself. The bed was empty and the sight was unsettling to his chest, almost like her in the bed was something that needed to happen in order for him to feel content.

Sadly the feeling of discomfort didn’t go away even when he decided to sleep on her side of the bed, her scent evolving him like a quilt, the warmth of the smell almost overwhelming. The goosebumps on his skin seemed to go away just by smelling her, like just a piece of her could fix his smallest problems.

Draco slept restlessly that night, his eyes fluttering open every couple hours until he finally found himself falling back asleep again, only to do the same thing a couple hours later.

It wasn’t until he felt another presence in the room, someone’s eyes on him as he slept that his eyes finally decided to stay open for more than five minutes. He glanced at the doorway, the darkness seeming to spread as he focused on one spot. He heard heavy breathing, the person obviously trying to stop it so it wouldn’t wake him up. Little did they know he woke up because he felt her in his presence, not heard it. Almost like he couldn’t just feel her when he’s awake but also when he’s asleep.

“Hey,” he grumbled, his arm coming out of beneath the pillow, the pillow being almost permanently bent because of his arm squeezing it. The girl in the doorway shifted her weight on each foot, her body rocking back and forth as she did so.

“Come here,” he requested, rolling over so she could reclaim her spot. She hesitantly walked over to the bed, stopping when she was next to her side, hands fiddling with her-his- shirt. His hand reached out to her, fingers connecting to her arms, stroking the skin there. Her skin was still warm from the bed sheets, telling him that she wasn’t standing there for long before he woke up.

Silence wrapped around them for a while as his fingers continued to massage her skin, warm against warm. He knew she found comfort in it since she was practically melting into his touch. He wrapped his slender fingers around her wrist softly and lightly tugged as a signal he wanted her to join him in the silky bed sheets.

“Come here,” he grumbled again, fingers going down her wrist to connect his hand with hers. She stepped closer at the repeated request, like she convinced herself that the first one was a misheard, and that she needed reassurance. Her knee stepped up on the bed, arms reaching out to him for a seek of comfort. His arms settled on her hips, guiding her as she settled into bed with him.

She chose to lay on her back, eyes settled on the ceiling but her arm was still touching his. He only noticed then that her cheeks were damp and eyelashes wet.

“Hey,” he said comfortingly, fingers going up to her hair to stroke it out of her face; continuing to do so even after it was out of the way. “No tears, alright love? No tears,”

She sniffed, eyes glazing over but nothing escaping. Her lips parted and she breathed through her mouth for a couple seconds before she spoke.

“I had a nightmare,”

Draco sighed as a sign to say he felt bad, hand moving to her ear so he could stroke it carefully.

“I’m sorry, loves.” He said softly. “I wish I was there when you woke up.”

“I was scared you would still be mad.” She stated anxiously. He shook his head before she could finish speaking, lips leaning forward so he could peck at her cheeks, kissing the tears away one by one. He then backed up but still stayed close by, her right hand coming up to wrap around his neck. His silver orbs met her glossy ones, eyes searching for any emotion in her eyes. “Listen darling, I would never stay mad at you for coming to me for comfort,” he started, rubbing their noses together softly before looking into her eyes again. “You are mine, and if you need anything I’m here to give it to you.”

She smiled ever so softly, fingers stroking at his hair on the back of his neck. “All I need is you, and you already gave that to me. There isn’t anything else I need more.”

[pradabambie]

me instead - rafe x topper'sgf!reader

m'backkkk!!! lmk if you liked this <3

when topper thorton approached you at the country club and asked you out, you though nothing of it.

a couple of random kooks always came up to you, wanting to buy you a drink or take you out on a date, so you were used to it.

but after the dinner went well, you started thinking that maybe it was time to leave behind your current dating habits - which consisted mainly in pogues with a bad boy complex - and settle down with a nice kook boy. at least for a little while.

as soon as you two made your first public appearance the news spread around the island quickly.

obviously, you were one of the hottest girls on the obx and everyone felt the need to be updated on your dating life.

top's friends heard and the teasing started short after.

but he couldn't help to get a little worried about rafe's reaction. he remembered the episode that happened a couple months ago

you were laying on the lounge chair, the sun reflecting on the pool and showering your body in golden light.

the three boys were standing besides the bar at the country club, getting a clear view of your barely clothed body, their minds filled with obscene thoughts at the sight of you.

"bro i think you're drooling a bit" kelce teased and then laughed at rafe, who had been staring at you intensely and not making any effort at hiding it.

"she's really fucking hot, huh?" topper added as he scaned your figure with his eyes, your attention focused on your book, not realizing the intrusive eyes that were laid on you.

"she's mine." rafe said nonchalantly as he took another sip of his beer.

his friends rolled their eyes and laughed at the comment, they were used to rafe trying to call dibs on everything. little did they know he was serious this time.

but you were simply too gorgeous for topper to care about that.

he didn't expect that you would agree so easily when he first asked you out, and ever since then he wouldn't miss a chance to show you off, even if you hadn't been on that many dates, he invited you everywhere and introduced you to everyone, except rafe, of course.

but he couldn't avoid him forever.

a big kook party was happening tonight, and you asked top to go with you, after all of your girlfriends cancelled and you didn't feel like having another night in.

and he couldn't ever say no to you, so there he was picking you up short after, driving you both to the huge house filled with the same old kooks, some random tourists and a couple lost pogues.

as soon as you walked in all eyes landed on you, and the tiny white dress you were wearing, but you were always too oblivious and in your own little bubble to even notice the lingering looks that every guy there gave you as you walked past them, and the irritated ones that came from the girls.

top guided you to the back, where his friends stood, occupied by their drinks and other substances so they took a little while to notice your arrival.

you said hi to a couple boys topper had previously introduced you to, but then you saw one you didn't recognize.

he was wearing a white shirt that was a little tight around his big arms, and some kooky ass beige shorts.

top couldn't hide his nervous expression as he tapped rafe on his shoulder "come say hi to my girl, bro"

rafe turned around and his eyes landed automatically on you, scanning your whole body shamelessly before stopping on your face

"your girl, huh?" he cuestioned as he took a sip of his drink, giving top a look your couldn't quite figure out

topper had already moved on to greet the next person so you introduced yourself

"yes hi, I'm y/n, top's girlfriend" you said flashing a perfect smile at him, trying to ignore his intense stare

he checked to see if topper wasn't looking, and then lowered his lips to your ear, sending a goosebump down your spine as he whispered

"nah, your pretty little head must have gotten it wrong" you swallowed the bump on your throat "you're supposed to be here with me"

he quickly stood straight again, as topper came back and placed a kiss on your -now flushed- cheek.

[croxxbow13]

The Sweet One - Part 3

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and mild adult thoughts.

Takes place duing the early Alexandria era. Just some musings as you’re trying to adjust to this new, impossible way of life… and trying to make sense of Daryl’s intoxicating presence. Daryl x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

(Part one)

(Part Two)

-

He’s still gripping my arms, though not nearly as tight as before. His hold is steadying now, as if trying to keep me from stumbling around and knocking over anything else.

I still feel the warm puff of his breath against my temple with every rise and fall of his chest.

And I immediately know when he’s turned his head elsewhere. Not because I can see him, but because I feel his breath shift to a different part of my face.

My cheek. The top of my head.

My fucking ear.

God has a really sick sense of humor.

I feel his fingers twitch against my arm as another walker thuds into the door.

I keep trying to blink to get my eyes to adjust, but it’s so impossibly dark. I look down, and I can see where the light from under the door is hitting the sides of our boots. He’s standing with one foot in between mine.

When I look back up, I realize he must’ve been trying to follow my gaze. His face is pointed down towards me.

I know because his breath is on my lips.

I’ve always heard that when you lose one sense, your others are heightened. People who lose their sight, have an increased sense of sound or touch. People who lose their hearing have better eyesight. Maybe because your mind isn’t going in as many different directions. It has less to focus on at one time.

Two thoughts cross my mind simultaneously.

The first being I now whole-heartedly believe that theory, because having completely lost any semblance of sight in the darkness, I can feel the sudden shift in him as he realizes that not only can I feel his breath on my lips, but that he can feel mine on his. The realization hit him suddenly– the faint catch in his breath giving him away as his breath falters against mine.

The second being I wonder which of my senses will be heightened when I lose my fucking mind.

His breathing is shallow now, the puffs lighter.

I could turn my head away. But I don’t. My cheeks burn, but they’re overshadowed by the ache in my chest. The flutter in my stomach.

It would be so simple… take so little. I wouldn’t even have to raise all the way up onto my toes to kiss him. His mouth is literally right there.

I feel his fingers tighten on my arms, so marginally I might have just imagined it.

Then his breath returns to my temple.

Goddamn it.

When I speak, I know the words are hitting him directly in his chest. I can feel the warmth of it without having to reach out.

“Where is everyone?” I whisper. I feel him shrug and a shaking that I assume is his head.

His grip loosens a bit more, his hands sliding down and now setting up residence on my forearms.

I fight down the intrusive thought to kick something else.

I feel him shift his weight from one leg to the other, and his body brushes against me in the faintest of touches.

I resist the urge to lean into him. And then it happens again– I feel the warmth of his breath on my ear.

And damn it all to hell, I shudder and feel the goosebumps spread down my arms and up the back of my neck.

I know he felt it. There’s no way he didn’t feel it. And again, he tells on himself because his damn fingers twitch again. But this time, as his grip loosens, I feel the way his fingers move ever so slightly against my skin.

He feels the fucking goosebumps that continue to multiply on my arms.

I’m cursing him under my breath right now, my eyes squinched tight.

I’m cursing myself for asking Aaron to let me go on this run.

I’m cursing Glenn for leading the walkers down my hallway.

I’m cursing myself for not remembering the way back to the door.

And I’m cursing Daryl because of the havoc he’s currently wreaking on my nervous system.

My head is spinning trying to make sense of why or how he has this effect on me.

Then it happens again. I feel his breath mingle with mine.

And what little resolve I had remaining crumbles into a million little pieces on the floor below us.

I know he feels the shift.

I know because his fingers tighten around my arms even before I raise up on my toes and press my lips against his.

He freezes. Every muscle in his body rigid.

For a split second, panic rises in my chest.

What did I just do

Fuck.

But then his lips soften against mine and the hands that are gripping my arms are no longer just offering stability, they’re holding me in place.

His lips move against mine and my heart is pounding against my ribs.

He releases his hold on my arms and I feel his hands slide to my waist.

I take advantage of my now unrestrained arms and reach forward, my hands fumbling, reaching for anything to use as leverage.

It’s so fucking dark.

My fingers find the top edges of his pockets and I slip my fingertips inside, and pull him against me.

I feel his tongue graze my bottom lip and it takes everything in me to stifle the groan that works its way up from my throat.

His hands grip my waist tighter, steadying me—or maybe steadying himself.

And it’s a good thing because my head is spinning.

His tongue brushes against my bottom lip again and a shiver runs through me, and I can’t stop the soft sound that escapes my lips this time.

I feel the way his body responds, as if it ignites something in him that he’s struggling to keep contained. His hands slide down to the curve of my hips and crush me against him.

The slick heat of his tongue is soft and demanding at the same time, sliding against mine in a way that makes me wonder what other senses I’m being stripped of.

Fuck.

He tastes exactly how I knew he would.

He’s fucking ecstasy. Lips and teeth and tongue and I want to tear him apart.

A low sound rumbles through his chest as I try to pull him closer.

There’s a crash outside, the noise coming from far off, down one of the other hallways.

The sudden noise is like a shock of cold water.

Now we’re standing, and it’s all breaths and heaving chests.

Rick shouts from down the hall and then there’s a loud metallic clanging against the filing cabinets in one of the room.

They’re trying to draw the walkers.

My hands are trembling, my heart still racing, and I’m trying my damndest to get my breathing under control.

I want so badly to pull him back to me. His hands are no longer touching me, as if the sudden interruption snapped him out of whatever spell he had been under.

Neither one of us dares to speak.

As the last of the walkers stumble out of the hallway, the silence left is deafening.

The assault of the light as someone snatches the door open is blinding, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.

Glenn.

“Come on!” He says, and with one last quick glance back at me, Daryl steps through the door.

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 7)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS CHAPTER

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship.

-

“Fuck-…. Do your very best not to scream, baby.” The heated boy requested and a trail of kisses down your breast followed, you squeaked, and he chuckled against your belly as he kept his way down, until his wet lips kissed your sweet folds.

“Megumi-i….” you pleaded, and he smashed your heated core against his face, “where’s-where’s the timid Fushiguro?” you end up teasing.

“You make him this feral, pretty one.” You heard his husky voice muffled your folds as he ate you just as his father did hours ago. Your body squirmed, tensed and relaxed in the lapse of ten minutes straight, Megumi was as insatiable as he was agile with fingers and tongue.

“I need to-…. I need to-”

He didn't even have to finish his sentence when you spread your legs wider, presenting yourself to him and his hungry gaze.

"I said: Don't hold back, ain't I?" You reminded him, and before Megumi lost it completely to become his father’s son. Your mouth wrapped that big, awfully thick piece of meat shinning on precum inside, tasting him, licking from head to balls. Making his skin spark in thousands of goosebumps and his bones to tremble inside his body.

This was pure glory, his dream come true, this was heaven to him. Thrusting a few times inside your wet cave just to shoot a small spurt of cum right into your throat, panting and heaving himself away from you before he came completely.

“Inside you,” he ordered, and you grinned so sensually he almost came on the spot, desire shinning in your orbs made him feel more welcome than his parents the first time he met them. Fuck! You were his everything and moving your body to his liking he positioned himself between your spreads thighs to easily slip inside you, of course, after being eaten so thoughtfully the entire day, your walls almost welcome him and shaped around his girth as if he belonged inside you.

“Fuck!” Megumi growled, blissed out. “OHGOD! I’m home-”

He tasted the smile on your face as you claimed his lips to kiss him, and Megumi’s hips started slow yet quickly gain inch by inch, heroically claiming you as he thrusted -wild and feral- inside your wetness, you feel like the nicest pocket of flesh, your gummy walls pulsating around him felt devastatingly good.

Wet noises mixed with high pitched mewls from your parted quivering lips and deep grunts pour out of him from time to time as he reached deeper inside your welcoming core. 

It was lewd the barbaric way Megumi had chosen to breed you.

He doesn’t remember burying his palm in your mane to spin you around and practically shove you on top of his mattress to change positions over and over again, twisting you to his liking. 

Cannot recall wrapping your legs around him to force you to ride him, or his mouth rejoicing in your delicious pair of round breasts to have his full, squeezing and pinching the perked flesh with teeth while defiling you.

When did he started to slam full force into you, rattling the mattress as he sheath himself in your slick warmth to the hilt, still eluded him. The raven-haired devil was carelessly reordering your womb as he devotedly fed your tight lips his cock. Openly dismissing your pleas for him to go slower, to be gentler…instead, kept rocking mercilessly deep making sure to hit, brazenly and repeatedly, that special spot inside you just to see the fireworks.  

A pleased sound rumbled in his chest with contained mirth and a disturbingly stretched grin betrayed his natural compose self. 

“My sweet–sweet (Y/N)” he growled in a strained voice. Gruff fingers keeping you effectively anchored to his groin, gushing away into your resistless, subdued pussy. 

Both hands dutifully keeping you trembling hips up and ready, even after all strength had been drained and hanged limp, only secured by his greedy grasp.

“Sweet, defenseless (Y/N)…” He snarled into your neck leaning over you and clamping a hand down over your shoulder to adjust his angle just the slightest bit. “P-Precious girl...so eager to take her best friend’s cock…–” 

Dragging you with him, lifted your leg, anchoring his foot against the edge of the mattress and found his leverage to pound deeper, groaning throatily, Megumi continued to slap his loaded heavy balls against your over-used pussy, covered and dripping in their combined fluids, plump and ready with a fresh load cooked especially for his little darling.

“–Foolish (Y/N) … foolish enough to accept to have a sleepover with me… just to get railed against my bed” he licked his lips. “Do you think they are listening?” Megumi wondered and glance down at you to find you numb from the blast of pleasure. 

Your moans were those of a subjugated and defeated animal. You had been conquered by the implacable Zenin heir who stubbornly refused to give up an inch of his new territory. Thrust after thrust continued his crusade. Each one more deliciously accurate, pulling him closer to the blinding sensation of release. 

“I know they are listening…” he sounded amused and soon a quiet long, raspy moan filled the room. “I hope they are listening… paying special attention at how I fill you up so good. Fuck! I’m even putting a couple of my pups inside you tonight, baby.”

Megumi began to feel his frame grow tense; this angle was insanely perfect to him. You at his mercy, unable to deny him, incapable of dodge or hide from his grasp. Gave free rein to his corrupt essence to defile you. Megumi was taking what was rightfully his. That thought bloated his arousal, clouding what little self-restrain he had left and pistoned his narrow hips like a feral rabbit.

You, being merciless nailed to his mattress could barely breath, much less emit any coherent noise apart from low mewls of despair and the attempt of his name in your angelical, overused vocal cords. But it was more than enough to guide the man on top of you straight into his blissful reward. 

“If you fucking respect me” he warned feeling himself close, eyes rolled to the back of his head and balls tighten almost painfully. “Don’t you ever look at them again! You are MINE!”

Head pulled back, feverish cheeks and mouth hanging slightly open before a deep, long grunt echoed through the walls whilst white thick ribbons of cum washed the inside of your convulsing walls while milking every last drop out of him. 

“F-FUUUUCK!~”

A mind-blowing orgasm kidnapped all his senses, melting away what strength he had left, and the intensity of the act shook him awake with a startled gasp. 

Megumi opened his heavy lids to find himself alone in the futon right next to his bed where you still were soundly sleeping. He was a sweaty mess, soiled and dripping from his awfully vast load now painting the inside of his pants, and shame abruptly and frustratingly began to creep into his injured pride. 

“Shit! Shit!...Shit!“ he blasted quietly in anger. Another fucking dream–…he reprimanded internally while massaging the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm his erratic heartbeat. 

Am I fucking fifteen again!? 

Slowly straightening he verified that you were effectively deep sleep before sigh in relieve. 

His shirt was drenched in sweat and his cheeks were red and foggy, pants awkwardly sticking to his hot skin reminding him his cold stain of disgrace. Megumi passed a hand through his disheveled hair unsticking wet strands from his forehead and sat up in his futon getting rid of the asphyxiating covers. 

This dream was way more intense and vivid than the last ones…is this my life now? To fantasize about you like a lame pathetic loser. 

Angrily huffing, lazily hauled his shirt off and drop the heavy fabric producing a wet thud while hitting the floor, immediately feeling better when the cold air hit his warm skin. He needed to take a bath and wash his pants, personally. It was mortifying enough to cum like a teenager in private, for someone else to find out too… and he needed to do all of this before you wake up.

A knock on the door, startle him out of his obsessing mind which busy itself in repeating the dream in an insistent loop and in a compose voice replied. 

“Who is it?” 

Megumi waited and the stain in his pants grew more noticeable by the minute making him feel more anxious.

“It’s Dad, open up.”

Dammit! Dammit!... Not him, not right now.

PART 8

⭕️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

[mydemimonde]

'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 2)

a/n: part 2 of cherry bomb is here! i want to thank you again for the likes, comments and reblogs on the first part, it really means a lot and i'm glad you liked it ♡ there will be a third part, lmk if you'd like to be tagged. enjoy!

Summary: After thanking Michael for what he did for you, you can't stop thinking about how much you desire him, how much you want him. And you always get what you want.

Words: 4000ish

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, reader being an absolute menace!, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, handjob, lots of dirty talk, masturbation (f and m), teasing/sex in public, cum eating

And touch yourself indeed you do.

As soon as you return to your dorm you immediately lie back on your bed, hike up your skirt and pull your lace panties aside. You hiss when your fingertips graze your wet folds, sucking Michael Gavey’s dick having this effect on you.

Seeing Michael Gavey squirm under your touch and hearing him whimper and moan has this effect on you.

You rub your swollen clit with your index and middle finger, feeling your entire body on fire. You lazily lower your hand until you feel your cunt practically sucking your fingers in, your arousal making it easier for you to start pumping them in and out of you as whines and soft moans escape your lips.

Your chest heaves with your breathing, you close your eyes as you remember the feeling of Michael’s lips moving against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth frantically, his gaze on you as you lowered your body to kneel in front of him, how beautiful he sounded when your mouth wrapped around his cock, how heavy it felt in your mouth. You can’t wait until having him like that again.

You play with your tits with your other hand, feeling your nipples harden when you pinch them. You never stop thinking about Michael and his large, veiny hands. You picture him caressing your body, squeezing your breasts and maybe even choking you. His long, slender fingers inside your cunt, reaching that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

The room is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of your cunt and your curses and breathy moans. Your walls clench around your fingers, your orgasm approaching as you pump them faster, curling them to reach the most sensitive spot inside you. The heel of your palm presses against your swollen clit repeatedly, making you gasp. You reach your peak with a muffled moan, careful not to be heard.

With your eyes closed you try to catch your breath, wave after wave of pleasure running through your body. You slide your fingers out of your pussy and lick them, tasting your own arousal.

You don’t know what Michael did to you, but you want him. And you always get what you want.

The next day you don’t see Michael until lunch time. He’s sitting alone, like he always does. You sit on the chair in front of him, hoping to be noticed but he doesn’t even lift his head, too focused on finishing his salad.

You clear your throat and with a honeyed voice you say his name. “Hi there, Michael.”

You see how his eyes widen for a moment before swallowing his food hard. “H-hi.” He grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth. “I didn’t see you there, sorry.”

“It’s okay baby” the pet name you give him makes him feel goosebumps. You have your legs crossed under the table, your foot drawing circles in the air. “Are you busy today?”

“Uhm yeah I… I have to study. Have a maths quiz tomorrow” he replies as he finishes his salad and wipes his mouth again.

“Oh, but you don’t need to study, Mikey” you lean in and place one hand on top of his. His hands are significantly bigger than yours, and that awakens something inside you. “You’re so smart.” You uncross your legs and with the help of your left foot, you take your right shoe off.

Michael’s eyes widen when he feels your bare foot creeping up his leg, making its way up. “You should relax a little bit, Mikey. Loosen up, have fun.” You tilt your head as you keep moving your foot, thankful for the long tablecloth. “I have a few ideas, you know?”

He gasps when your foot presses against his crotch. “Fuck” he curses under his breath, fists clenching  as he tries to compose himself. He gives you a deadly look, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. This only adds to your desire for him.

You decide to have some mercy for the poor guy, so you lower your foot and start eating your meal as if nothing happened. Michael lets out a barely audible sigh, shifting in his seat as he tries to hide his obvious erection under the tablecloth. This can’t be fucking happening.

You try to hide a smile, eating your delicious pasta with bechamel sauce while wicked ideas cross your mind.

You eat the last forkful of pasta, letting some sauce drip down the corner of your mouth. “Mmm, delicious” your soft moan catches Michael’s attention, sucking in his breath as you wipe your mouth, looking at him.

He shakes his head and stands up quickly, abandoning the hall. You chuckle and take a sip of water, already planning your next encounter with him.

Michael slams the door of his dorm and quickly gets rid of his pants, cursing when he sees the wet patch near the tip. He rests his head against the door, closing his eyes as he pumps his cock through his boxers.

“F-fuck…” he’s so painfully hard, he can explode at any moment if he doesn’t take care of it soon. His mind travels to the day before, when you were kneeling between his legs with his cock in your mouth. That night, a few hours after you left, he jerked off to the thought of you, again.

He’s done that a couple of times, he has to admit. Ever since the day he saw you for the first time, how sweetly you talked to him and how nice his name sounded from your lips. He should be ashamed of behaving like a horny teenager, but fuck it. The way you looked at him, how you talked to him, straight out of his dreams.

You’re fucking dangerous to him; he knows it, and you know it too.

He takes off his boxers, spits in his hand and immediately wraps it around his cock, whining at the contact. He wishes it’s your mouth though, warm, wet and welcoming. He wonders if that’s how your cunt would feel too, maybe tighter.

His hand works up and down, wet sounds filling the room as he remembers how wet you were from just sucking his cock, how you touched yourself while your mouth was on him. He’s not going to last long, not when he’s thinking about your moans and whimpers.

He speeds up the movement of his hand, chest heaving and gritted teeth, closer and closer to his orgasm.

He even wonders if you touched yourself like you said you would, picturing you pleasuring yourself while thinking of him is what makes him explode. He hisses out your name as he comes, hot ropes of spend coating his lower stomach, cock twitching in his palm.

Michael takes a few moments to catch his breath, looking at the mess he made. When he finally softens, he goes to the toilet and cleans himself, grabbing a new pair of clean boxers to put on. After all, he has one more lecture to end the day. Hopefully, that would keep him busy.

He can’t let anything distract him from his studies, especially not you.

With your books in hand, you enter the library. It’s almost noon, so it’s not too crowded, most of the students in their rooms, most likely.

You’re there to look for Michael, of course, also to study but mostly for Michael. The way he looked at you earlier, that menacing look on his face did nothing but turn you on. You want to unleash the beast that he probably is, you’re not stopping until Michael Gavey is in your bed.

You spot him reading and making some notes on an empty desk at the end of the library, so you take a seat on the other side of the desk.

He notices you immediately, the smell of your perfume invading his nostrils. You see him swallow hard, nodding at you when you say hi.

You open your books and start reading, actually focusing on the written words despite having Michael near you. Plus, you teased him enough earlier, poor chap had to run to his dorm to jerk off, because of course he did.

After teasing him during lunch you felt somewhat… terrible. A tiny voice in your head is constantly bothering you, telling you that what you are doing is wrong. Michael’s not like the guys you typically date or have sex with, and not only because he’s a virgin.

Everyone says Michael Gavey is an insufferable, full of himself and creepy guy, and even though you don’t know him 100%, you wouldn’t say that it's true. He can be complicated at times, but that doesn’t make him a totally awful person. He’s rather sweet when he wants to, adorable too.

You don’t want him to feel used, even though you’re not doing that. You’re just acting on your desires, and you know he craves you as well. He’s just playing hard to get. And that’s what makes him different from the rest, that’s why you want him.

Almost two hours pass by, and the library is empty except for the two of you. You look around, just in case, and close your book with a loud noise. He doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in his reading as you make your way towards him.

“Hello Mike” he looks up from his book and takes in your appearance. He audibly gasps at the sight of you in your black skirt and black knee high socks, lips curved into a smile. He leans back in his chair when you hop on the desk in front of him, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. “How did the study session go?” You ask as you rest the palm of your hands on the surface of the table, supporting your weight as you lean back and tilt your head.

Michael presses his lips and blinks. “It went well. I’m more than ready for the quiz.”

“I knew it. I told you before, Michael, you’re really smart. I like smart guys” you lean forward again, speaking in a low and feathery voice.

You hear him gulp. “Oh, uhm, I actually have to go, so” he tries to stand up but you press your foot against his chest, forcing him to sit down. He looks at you with a dumbfounded expression.

You frown. “What are you constantly running away from me, Mike? You don’t want my company?” you stretch your leg, pushing him as he shakes his head.

“N-no, it’s just…” he licks his lips, trying to find the correct words. “You’re dangerous to me. You tempt me so much” he admits with a sigh. You smile.

“Well, baby, sometimes we just have to surrender to our desires… as I’m doing with you. I told you, Michael. You have no idea how much I want you…” your eyes never leave his face, watching as his pupils darken with lust. His eyes follow the movement of your hands, caressing your thighs as you open your legs.

“Yesterday, after you tutored me, I returned to my dorm and I touched myself, Mikey…” his eyes widen and he yelps. “I told you I would finger myself until I came, and that’s what I did, baby… I pleasured myself thinking about you… I was so wet and tight” you bite your lip as your hand creeps up your inner thigh, Michael’s breath catching in his lungs. “I’m wet right now, Michael. Would you like to see how wet you make me? Would you like to feel how tight I am?”

Michael can only nod eagerly, mouth watering at the thought of touching your pussy, his already hard cock straining against his cargo pants. When you get his confirmation, you open your legs even more, but he stops you. “Wait. We cannot… I mean, we’re in the library” he whispers, looking at you like you were a mad woman.

You giggle. “Relax, baby. We are the only ones here. No one ever comes here at this hour, right? And we’re at the very end of the library… if someone enters, we’ll hear footsteps and we’ll know.” You reassure him with a warm smile, and he can’t reject you.

“O- okay… but I… I don’t know how to…”

“Shh, I told you I would teach you, remember? And I’m sure you’ll learn really fast. Now come closer, get on your knees.” Michael quickly obeys your orders, and gets on his knees before you, face right in front of your clothed pussy. “Good boy.” You hike up your skirt, giving him a sight of your cotton pink thong.

“Shit…” he mutters when he sees the wet spot, your arousal evident.

“I know… and it’s because of you.” He lets out a soft whine, afraid that your words alone could make him cum in his pants. “Now, take off my underwear.” His hands shake when he does so, clearly nervous and excited to touch you properly. He examines your dripping pussy with his jaw dropped. You move your legs up, feet pressed against the surface of the desk, completely exposed to him.

“Fuck, you’re dripping… what should I do?” he asks with genuine intrigue, eager to learn.

"Give me your hand" you lean in to grab his hand and guide it towards your cunt, his fingers tracing your clit. “Touch me there. It’s my clit”

He marvels at how you gasp when he touches you, his fingers drawing gentle circles over your bud. “Is this okay?” When you nod he continues touching you with his index finger, paying attention to your reaction.

“You start slowly, then you can add a bit more pressure and go faster… fuck, right there…” you breath, small whimpers leaving your lips. He continues touching you adding more pressure when your whimpers turn into moans. “Oh, shit, yes Michael” you throw your head back, his touches setting your whole body on fire. “Please, put your fingers in me” you plead and he nods again, following your instructions.

“Holy fuck you’re so wet and tight” he moans when he pushes two of them inside your slickness, watching how they disappear in your cunt, coated in your arousal.

“Hmm, your fingers are so good Michael. Move them please, curl them a little b- fffuck, just like that” you gasp when you feel his long, slender fingers find your sensitive spot with ease. “Touch my clit with your thumb… yes, yes, like that” Michael’s a quick study, you realised. He’s driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Fuck, you’re so good at this, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Michael smirks proudly, looking at your face contorted in pleasure. He can feel how you get tighter around his fingers, his cock twitching at the feeling.

“I wanna taste you… please, let me taste you” he begs. “Want you to cum in my mouth.”

If that isn't the hottest thing you’ve heard him say. You bite your lip and nod. “How can I say no to that?” You let your legs hang off the desk and proceed to instruct him on what to do next. “You can kiss me there, then you can lick all the way up to my clit, and then- oh!” you throw your head back as Michael’s tongue flattens against your entrance, licking you gently as his hands hold your thighs apart. You watch with mouth open as he devours your cunt, his nose rubbing at your bud repeatedly as he tongue-fucks you. His gaze is focused on you, you bring a hand to his head, pulling him closer as you chase your orgasm. “Yes, yes, Michael don’t stop!”

A moan from his lips sends vibrations to your cunt and you come with a loud cry of his name, the obscene slurping sounds he makes adding to the sensation.

Michael doesn’t let a drop go to waste, licking all your juices eagerly. He moans at your taste. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, you taste so good.”

You look at him though hooded eyes, his chin shining with your arousal and his glasses all fogged up. He stands up from the floor, and wipes his mouth and chin with his hand. “Gods, Michael… that was amazing…”

“Really?”

“Yes, you learned very quickly” you chuckle and jump off the table, leaning in to kiss him. You can taste yourself in his mouth. You pull back to caress his cheek and he leans into your touch, your heart melting. What’s happening to you?

He hands you your underwear, which you put on quickly. He stays there, rubbing his hands together.

“Uhm… can we do this again? I-I really liked this…”

You grin. “We can definitely do this again… but not here. You can come to my place” you ask as you fix your skirt and stockings.

Again, his eyes widen. “Now?”

“Not necessarily, baby. Let’s take it slow, yeah? But if you want, I can help you with this…” you point at the evident bulge in his pants. He immediately blushes and chuckles, shaking his head.

“Oh, uhm… sorry about that.” He apologises as he tries to cover it, but you stop him by grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t feel ashamed, Mikey. It’s flattering, knowing that I get you this hard.” You look at him into his eyes, you can hear his heavy breathing and notice his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do I make you this nervous?”

“I told you… you’re dangerous to me.” he breathes and raises an eyebrow. “And you’re also a fucking tease, did you know that?”

You gasp and point at yourself with your finger, feigning innocence. “Me? How am I a tease?” you ask, reaching for his belt with your hands, your eyes fixed on his.

“You know exactly what you’re doing… today during lunch, for example.” He explains, his eyelids heavy as your hands neatly undo his pants, letting them fall with a clicky sound, the metal of the belt hitting the wooden floor.

“What did I do during lunch? I can’t recall” you tease him as your fingertips trace the line of his hard cock through his boxers, biting your lip when you feel a wet spot there.

“You were teasing me, touching my leg and all under the table” Michael’s voice is low and raspy, stirring something inside you.

“Did I? I truly don’t remember doing that” he curses when your hand slides under his boxers, wrapping around his shaft.

“I- I was so hard I had to run and…”

“And?” You know exactly what he’s trying to say, but you want to hear it from his lips. When you don’t get an answer, you stop your movements.

“Fuck, I ran to my dorm and had a wank” He hisses with eyes closed and you continue your ministrations, your thumb stimulating his weeping tip.

“Oh, really? You jerked off thinking about me?” You lean in and start kissing his neck, leaving kisses along his clenched jaw.

“Y-yes. Not the first time” he throws his head back, leaving you more space to kiss and lick.

“No? How many times did you do it?”

“M-many times… since the very first d-day I saw you… shit” he bucks his hips trying to get more friction, but you keep going at your own speed, enjoying how putty he was in your hands.

“Hmm, so you fuck your hand thinking about me, and what do you picture? Tell me” you whisper in his ear, feeling his chest pressing against your tits.

“Oh, fuck… I think about you… your mouth around my cock… your hands all over me” you can already feel him twitching in your hand, a small drop of sweat trickling down the side of his forehead. “I’m not gonna last long, please.” Michael sobs, eyes shut as you continue moving your hand up and down, slowly, torturing him. “Please, I need you to go faster”.

“I won’t go faster until you tell me exactly what you think about when you pleasure yourself, Michael” you demand, making him shiver.

He clenches his jaw, his chest heaving as he tries to speak. “I imagine how your cunt would feel around my cock… I imagine myself fucking you, your moans and whimpers… fuck, fuck, don’t stop I’m s-so close” he begs, unable to hold it any longer. Happy with his answer, you start moving your hand faster.

“Come on, Michael. Cum for me, baby, let go” you watch as he comes with a soft whine followed by a moan of your name, his brows furrowed and cheeks flushed as his orgasm washes over him. Seeing him like that is so hot.

When he finally comes down from his high he opens his eyes, finding your hungry gaze. He looks down and sees his now cum stained boxers. “Fuck” he whispers at the sight of the mess he made in your hand as well, and curses again when you lick your hand.

Then, you lean in and kiss his cheek. “Good job, baby. You did so well for me” you purr, his heart pounding when you praise him. “I should get going. Remember, you’re more than welcome to enter my dorm. I’ll be waiting” you wink at him and gather your stuff, holding your books under your arm, heading off to your dorm.

Michael watches you leave, still not believing what just happened. He puts his cargo pants back and takes his books, putting them inside his bag. He thinks about the cold shower he would have to take as soon as he steps foot into his room.

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