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koolades-world · 9 months ago

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One bed troupe w/ Mammon

There wasn't a boring day with Mammon around. As your self proclaimed first man, he ensured you went everywhere together. Because of this, he often dragged you along to gatherings with his friends.

When you first arrived in the Devildom, you didn’t get out very much. It was a pretty straight schedule: wake up, get walked to school by whoever's turn it was that day, do class, get walked home by someone else, do homework, go to sleep, then repeat. Once you got closer, Mammon realized how boring of a life you were living despite being in hell. He vowed to make your life more interesting and began showing you the fun side of life. He brought you to bars, restaurants, his favorite casino (of course), and so much more.

Today was no different. You were at a casino together with his friends early in the evening. You had grown closer with them at this point, and things weren't awkward when he had to leave for whatever reason. While nice, you began to learn the things Mammon hadn't told you that he told them. It was never anything bad, rather, it was usually cute things, such as how he really loved when you wore yellow or gold since he gushed to them every time you did.

Mammon had walked off to cash out his large bucket of tokens he'd earned for the third time that night, leaving you and his friends to chat.

"Tonight is a good night, huh?" You sip at your drink, lazily stirring it with the cute decorative pick that came with it.

"It is!" His friend states, shaking his own bucket.

"Mammon would say, it's cause of you." Another chuckles. You join in, amused.

"That's my Mammon. I'm happy to be a good luck charm, especially since he bought me my drink." You cause the group to laugh. The conversation begins to drift, but somehow makes its way back to Mammon

"You know, he's a little worried about you. Later tonight, one of Vazimid's friends is stopping by, but Mammon has been saying he hasn't liked the way he's been eyeing you." This statement worries you too. You know that despite growing comfortable, the Devildom is by no means safe. Mammon is protective, but it's rare that he'd admit it. Before you could respond, Mammon came back.

"Hey, Mc! I'm rich! Gotta say, I only do this good when yer around." He fixed his jacket, a smug grin on his face.

"Well, I wouldn't mind joining you every time you come here." You throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. The confidence melts away from his face as he begins to stutter, causing you to hug him tighter. The next few hours go well, until that friend arrived that nobody seemed to want there, which killed the mood. Mammon kept you close, but it eased him when you were by his side.

Later in the night, someone else in the group conveniently ended up winning several fancy room in the hotel the casino was in, free of charge. It was all a little too convenient. When Vazimid's friend asked who would be staying with who, Mammon immediately claimed a room for the both of you that nobody else was allowed in. After you teased him a little about it, a quick uncharacteristic glare to silence you. Not wanting to make him more upset, you remained quiet.

After collecting the room key, he drags you away from the friend group and onto the impossibly tall elevator. The ride up was quick, but neither of you spoke. Once you arrived at the room, Mammon unlocked it and promptly close it behind the both of you. You finally work up the courage to speak, but you’re not really sure what to say, or where to start.

“Mams? Is something wrong?” You put a hand on his arm and peer at his face. His expression is tight but softens once he sees the worry in you eyes.

“Nothin’ darlin’.” He smiled at you, but you can still tell something is bothering him.

“I know you. Tell me what’s wrong.” You placed your other hand on his other arm so you could pull him closer.

He hesitates at first, but eventually speaks. "Do ya really wanna know? It's dumb." He glanced at you.

"I do. Now tell me." You waited.

"It's that demon that Vazimid keep brining around. Don't trust him around you at all. I just know he wants to get his slimy hands on you." He sighed. You giggled a little at the realization.

"It's alright to be jealous, babe." Mammon back away from you instantly at the accusation.

"Hey, hey. That's not what I said!" His ears turned red, confirming what you thought.

"Whatever you say. Will sharing that bed with me quell your inner turmoil?" You began to giggle more as he came to the realization that he'd picked a room that only had one bed. 'It's free, Mams. You love free things." You scanned the room and saw a variety of goodies laying around the room you knew Mammon would scoop up once he was done being embarrassed.

You decided to leave him to his own devices and get settled in the room. You took a quick trip into the bathroom to find two sets of hotel branded pajamas that were suspiciously in the correct sizes. You showered with the nicest soaps you'd ever gotten your hands on and reappeared to find Mammon sitting on a chair, on his D.D.D.

"I'm done, knock yourself out." You throw yourself down onto the bed, face first.

"Took ya long enough." He skulked away and took his turn in the bathroom too. When he was done, and also emerged in the matching, branded set, he seemed less enthusiastic to get in the bed than you had been. Once he sat down, though, he realized how nice it actually was.

"Ya should've told me how soft these pillow were." He cuddled one of the pillows to his chest.

"If I didn't, maybe you wouldn't have at all and I could've had this entire bed to myself. Now, stop cuddling that pillow and cuddle me instead." You rolled yourself over to him and did grabby hands in his direction. He went red again, but listened. His hair was still a little damp from his shower and the jasmine scented hotel soap made him smell wonderful. He always ran very hot, which you enjoyed since he worked as a great personal heater. Once he had decompressed, you spoke a little bit about your plans for tomorrow, and eventually you drifted off.

Mammon remained awake for a little bit longer, thinking about the exciting evening the both of you had had. He was thankful that he had you, and even though he would never admit it, he had been jealous. He hated the idea of sharing you with some werido that he never invited in the first place. He hugged you a little tighter, and eventually feel asleep himself, thinking about you.

#oneshot #gn reader #obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me mammon #gah I don't love this </3 #but the show must go on #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mc

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plutowrites · 10 months ago

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Of Magic

note: whew dusted off the ole keyboard for this one. if i'm rusty, you gotta allow it. i love this one sm. because i love nanami kento. that is all.

pairings: dad!nanami x (fem) reader

contains: fluff. nanami being the best duh wbk. modern au.

You hear a faint scraping noise from the kitchen as you quietly enter your home, holding your breath while gently closing the door behind you. It's 9:53 PM, and although wishful thinking has you hoping the girls are fast asleep in their beds, you know they're probably waiting for you to come and kiss them goodnight. In your opinion, Kento outshines you in almost every aspect of parenting, but bedtime belongs to you. He just can't do stories like you can—nothing beats the silly voices you give to each character. Your voice range is impeccable.

However, it is late, and you've had multiple conversations with your children about not waiting up for you tonight; one when they had just woken up, another during breakfast, and the last reminder during the car ride to school before dropping them off. They know very well that you had a company event to attend outside of work hours and wouldn't be home until late at night. But still, a small (horrible) part of you wanted them to still be awake, just to hear their cute giggles and feel their tiny, warm hands wrapped around your neck in a tight hug.

"How'd it go?" Kento asks, closing the lid over the Tupperware filled with tonight's dinner, which looks (and smells) like beef and broccoli stir-fry. You stand in the kitchen with a puzzled look on your face.

Instead of answering his question, you point to the food in his hands. "They ate the broccoli?"

Nanami turns to face you and frowns. "Of course they ate the broccoli."

"What?! They never eat broccoli when I'm around."

"That's only because you don't eat broccoli, honey. You're their hero; they wouldn't even touch chocolate cake if dearest mommy turned up her nose at it."

"Dearest mommy, huh," you repeat after him, a grin slowly spreading across your face. Kento wraps one arm around your shoulders lazily, pulling you into him and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

"They should be asleep—"

"Nice."

"But they're probably not," Nanami finishes. You lean your head back to look at him. The beginnings of a smile dance on the corners of his lips.

You fake gasp. "How naughty."

"Soooo naughty."

"I'll go check on them when I go up there to change my clothes." Kento lets go of you and runs a hand through his hair. Noting the exhaustion on his face, you add, "You should rest now that I'm home. I can pack the girls' lunches for tomorrow too."

He shakes his head. "They're already done, but did you know they're really into star shapes now? It was just hearts last week. I can do hearts. I did hearts like a pro, actually."

"Are stars really that hard to do?" You ask, tongue in cheek.

He shoots you a look. In your husband’s defense, he really did cut hearts into foods like a pro. Every single item that went into the girls’ lunch boxes that could be carved into the shape of a heart, was in the shape of a heart. You always watched Kento from the couch in the living room as he meticulously sliced and diced away to make his girls happy.

You pat your hand across one of his cheeks and coo, "You're the best dad ever, literally." You draw out the word literally, eliciting a snort from Nanami.

"I had to ban that word today."

Now it’s your turn to laugh—your oldest daughter learned the word 'literally' in school this week and hasn't stopped using it since. It's sort of hilarious how she sneaks it into every other sentence. You tilt your head to the side and reply in the most serious tone you can muster, "Thank you because it was literally driving me, literally, insane, literally."

A chorus of giggles erupts from the top of the stairs, followed by a thundering rumble of footsteps descending. The moment in the kitchen, interrupted.

Nanami shakes his head gently and sighs, "Hmm, I wonder if they’re awake."

You grab the back of his neck, yank him closer, and plant a loud kiss on his cheek. "My babies are spoiled like little princesses. They need entertainment to go to sleep, and I am their jester. I bid you farewell."

"You’re going to read them a bedtime story?"

"Yes, I am going to read them a bedtime story..."

"Now? At 10:00 PM? And you call me soft..."

“You are, don’t even start.”

After a beat, Kento says softly, “You're so good to them, you know? They’re so lucky to have you.”

Hearing those words from him stops you in your tracks. They wouldn't mean nearly as much coming from anyone else as they do coming from Kento, simply because he is the best father.

He’s so patient, and kind, and understanding. He lets the girls wear whatever madness they want, and is completely fluent in their ramblings and mumbles— far better than you. He knows exactly how they like their oatmeal, and memorized the milk to cereal ratio they must have in their bowls or else the world stops for them; he knows exactly what to say when they're feeling upset to calm them down.

He learned how to bake white chocolate raspberry muffins because it’s their favourite. He learned how to do funky hairstyles just because a crazy hair day at their school was on the horizon. He even learned how to patch holes in their clothes instead of telling them not to lay and roll around in the wood chips at the park because he couldn't bear to cut into their fun.

If Kento didn’t know how to do something, he learned. He was always trying.

To you, your husband is a hard-working, dedicated, outrageously beautiful force of a man.

To your children, he’s nothing short of magic.

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #kento x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fanfic #pluto writes #for the first time in a decade

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starrystevie · 2 years ago

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would LOVE

“i can’t believe you remembered this!”₁ “of course i did. you’re important to me.”

from the valentines prompt list please!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

it's nice, having days like these. days where the girls are with joyce and hop, driving their pseudo-grandparents up the walls with repeated questions and all their boundless sugar-fueled energy. days where the house seems still, nothing but the ocean waves crashing in the backyard breaking up their moments of peace. days where it's just steve and eddie, as if no time has passed, as if they were still in their 20s and nervous around each other and desperate to see their entire world reflected in the other's eyes.

it's not like they had anything special planned for this valentine's day. eddie dropped josephine and roxie off early and came back with takeout and a bottle of wine for them to share. they didn't need fancy gifts or meals or declarations of love. they just needed to be wrapped up in one another, sharing their warmth, sharing their wine, sharing their lives.

"hey, ed?" steve whispers against the side of eddie's neck as they relax on the porch swing, looking out at the waves together. if he left his lips linger on the warm skin he found, no one needed to know about it. "i gotta go grab something, scooch over."

eddie blinks lazily back at his husband, his hand pushing back his greying curls from his face before pulling the blanket up so steve can untangle himself from it. he slips his hand in his husband's and pulls him down gently to meet his lips, steve smiling as he goes willingly.

"don't start that, i won't want to stop," steve mutters with his lips still pressed to eddie's.

"then don't stop," eddie mutters back, reaching up to wrap an arm around steve's neck to keep him right where he wants him.

"mmhmm," steve regretfully pulls away. "two seconds, babe, i promise."

steve had it prepared earlier, the boombox sitting with a bright red bow on top hidden under a blanket by the couch. he even put in fresh batteries so it wouldn't die even though it was as ancient as they are. steve grabs the handle and an extra bottle of wine, bringing along the blanket from the couch because it's already starting to get cold.

"where did you find that?" eddie asks, his voice light and laced with laughter. he sets his wine glass on the table next to him and reaches for the boombox. "god, i haven't seen this since what? '99?"

steve chuckles, throws the extra blanket onto the porch swing and places the bottle of wine on the table. "it still works, too. press play."

eddie grins at steve and it's like being teleported back to '96, when they first got the house and they danced barefoot in the kitchen to whatever obscure band eddie had found that week. his grin turns soft, the wrinkles around his eyes unfold as he listens to the tinny sounds coming through the speakers.

"steve, how-," eddie breathes out, and it's so gentle, like the first touch of a spring breeze to let you know warmer months are ahead.

it's eddie singing, faint and slow over the barely there whimpers of a sleepy baby, over the sound of a music box tinging in the background, something about sunshine and skies of grey. the singing turns to humming turns to the sound of door closing and the whispers of two new fathers who have no clue what they're doing.

"you think she'll like us?" eddie on the cassette whispers. there's a soft sound of a kiss, the rustling of the camera's microphone against clothes, sounds that are easy to hear with the visuals of a vhs tape but not so much on a cassette tape.

"she'll love us," steve whispers back. the singing picks up again, even softer than before, the two of them mumbling the words to each other.

"is it on tape?" eddie in the present asks, his eyes misty behind his glasses. steve nods as the track switches over to something a little more chaotic, the sounds of roxie's first birthday bleeding out through the speakers.

"you said you wanted it for your road trips to remind you of home, so i called up dustin. sent him the vhs hard copies and he-"

eddie cuts him off with the type of kiss that steve loves best. it's searing, it's a brand, it's home. "you put our life on a tape, for me? i said that in passing, i can't believe you remembered it..."

"of course i did." it was steve's turn to be misty eyed. "you're important to me. i can't forget a single thing about you even if i tried."

they kept the tape playing until they had to rewind and start from the beginning. sounds of their kids, sounds of their family, their friends, their entire life echoing throughout the still night air. the soundtrack of the novel of steve and eddie playing through a boombox that had been with them for just as long. it was them, all mixed from some fancy software that dustin had, taking them down memory lane of the messy, crazy, perfect life they had made together.

it was love.

#and that's the end folks hope you cried like i did writing this one #who knew i was such a sap for valentine's day #callmesirkay #thank you for sending this in!!!#answered #ask meme #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #this will also all be posted to ao3 as a whole thing too btw #steve harrington #eddie munson

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threadsun · 1 year ago

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Okay, so listen. Most of the time when I see your responses, I’ll usually read all the way through and then type a reply after. That freaking FIRST PARAGRAPH took me out for a solid 10 minutes before I could I even REGISTER the rest that you wrote. And even after that, every time I look back at it so I can make sure I’m responding properly, my head just swoops to the side. Look, I can say the word horny okay, I’m just following Jack’s example by using innuendos instead 😂 But I know cursing doesn’t really come out until I’m deep in it. Being called shy is definitely a first for me though since I’m usually a chatty cathy, ESPECIALLY when I’m horny (my dirty talk gets FILTHY), but like, when I turn into a babbling mess of curse words and loud mewls is when you REALLY know you’ve got me GOOD. Freaking got compared to princess peach with how I sound at those moments 😂 At the same time, they gave up on domming me because I was too stubborn. You’re gonna have to try harder than that for me to give in though! Gotta work for it if you want me begging and pleading for you~

(*COUGHdidn’texpecttogetreadsoeasilythoughCOUGH*)

Growing Ian’s confidence and self esteem in all aspects including sex would be so wholesome. Definitely a part of the whole forgiveness for yourself as you do for others. If the issue is a repeated offense, then back away, but giving someone a chance if it’s only happened once should be accepted instead of demonizing a person. The self deprecation and the feeling undeserving can definitely hurt both parties involved unintentionally, so being able to navigate away from it and instead use more positive language and feelings helps. I know sometimes people can step away from being more affectionate or feeling loved because of repetitive negative reactions to said affection, so to be able to heal themselves to be as affectionate as they were is truly an amazing thing to witness. To go along with uniform kink…Fireman Joesph? Marine Joesph? HOOTERS BOOTY SHORTS AND CROP TOP JOESPH??? About to play dress up with this man, I swear 😂 But YES TO EVERYTHING ABOUT OUTLAW JOESPH! Just seeing him whip his chair in front of your cell to straddle it, a knowing smirk on his face as he shifts his jaw to lazily bounce the cigar between his lips. Placing his chin on his crossed arms while looking you over. “So I’ve heard that yer known for domming all sorts of folks around these parts.” He leans himself forward, the chair creaking under the pressure of only having two legs to support his weight instead of four. The embers in his cigar burn bright as he inhales deeply, letting a plume of smoke envelop the air around you both. The corner of his mouth draws higher, “Care to demonstrate for me darlin’?” He pulls the cigar from his lips and blows a small ring in your direction. “Or am I gonna have to lasso you over to my side until you agree~?” I don’t know much about smoking kinks since my asthma is like NOT TODAY, but I hope I typed that okay! Freaking love outlaw Joesph man 😂

-🎃

Vocal subs are adorable! They can't lie to you about whether or not something feels good because they can't help but moan when it does~ It sounds like you just need a more experienced dom to get their hands on you. If one little paragraph got you that flustered, then I don't think I'd need more than a few sentences in person to get you nice and obedient. But I know why people brat, they want nothing more than to be put in their place, manhandled, punished. So I'd let you keep pushing and teasing and thinking you're winning, all so I can give you what you really want. I'd let you feel all smug and victorious before I put you back in your place~

Ian has so many issues and I just wanna cradle him and fix them all for him tbh!!! I have my own personal theory about why he cheated, but I definitely don't think it's something he'd do again (or something he would've done in the first place if he hadn't somehow been convinced it was the right thing to do in the moment). But it'll still take his partner time to be able to open up like that again and be fully affectionate with him. They'll need to heal together, and I think once they do it'll be very cathartic for everyone involved.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO you CANNOT just casually bring up the idea of fireman Joseph to me I'm soooooo weak for firefighters!!! Them and EMTs are 👀 Army uniforms are sexy, but I fundamentally object to the army so like... same with cops, unless you're wearing the uniform for kinky reasons, I can't get behind it. BUT stripper Joseph wearing a cop and/or military uniform... THAT I can get behind

But now I'm SOOOOOOO tempted to write something self indulgent with Zander getting captured by Outlaw Joseph 👀 he's so hot!!! And I feel like as an outlaw he'd be able to lean more into the switchy side of himself which would be so fun~ He'd still love to get dommed though, riding him while wearing his hat would Do Things for him >:3c

#sunshine #asks #🎃 anon #irl smoking is bleh BUT in fiction it's sexy. The aesthetic. The homoeroticism. It's gooooood #so Joseph with a cigar 👀 and the smokeeeeeee

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jaythelay · 3 months ago

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I know I jump from project to project, like RE4 Final Mix, and the Just Modded Minecraft pack, but I get bored and move on. If anyone wants anything I've made legit just ask and it'll basically be yours to play with.

With that said, working on a Dead Rising Final Mix sort've texture pack. And already, as far as texture packs go, mine's the biggest, next to an HD mod I couldn't get to work for the life of me. The modding/texture scene for this game is pretty dead, I want to try and streamline it to some degree for people who want to make their own eventually. It's...easy. Once you know what you're doing. Anyone can make a suit they'd like, or change UI elements, etc etc.

Here's what I've got so far, bare in mind, there's 0 guides or tutorials, I've basically figured out every step myself through painful trial and error. Nothing is really final it's all experimenting til I'm satisfied one day.

And that's all the pictures I put on discord for friends and then lazily put here.

Nothing is final like straight up I'm basically searching for files solely right now. The process is a literal hell made simplified. Once ya got it, you're good, now you just gotta repeat the same tedious process infinitely.

Really. I could be better organized, I just gotta figure more of these files out first. There's so much just for Paradise Plaza, because Capcom uses the same method of making multiple LOD textures for individual distances as RE4, just not literally 7x the same texture. But 2! 2 mere LOD texture variants...

Depending on which area you're editing! Because in another area, it will have the exact same fucking files but of the original textures you didn't edit! At the least you can just copy your edited files into the area variant's folder. But that's a whole other step of thought and remembering.

Blegh. Another issue is I need to put everything into a smaller form factor. Alot of my earlier testing was individualizing each texture change, before I realized how much more complex that was compared to making one file for each area. Instead of "floor 1.arc" I can just have "Paradise Plaza F.arc" with all the various "floor.rtexture" inside it. Jesus I'm tired, good night.

#Dead Rising #Dead Rising FM #Just what I call any texture packs I make anymore really #Dead Rising Modding

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clanoffetts · 3 years ago

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earn it

boba knows when something is wrong

warnings: 18+; NSFW; boba knows his girl isn’t supposed to be super tight, he knows he’s gotta earn the pussy

“That feel good, girl?” he asks, voice low in your ear. You squirm against him, lower back pressed against his hard cock through the thin layer of his boxers.

“Yeah, Boba, fuck,” you gasp, his large fingers stroking your clit through your panties. The wet spot on the fabric had grown considerably since he’d brought you into his chambers and stripped you of all your clothes except the thin underwear.

His response is a low groan as he watches your chest heave, hard nipple between his fingers. “That’s it, girl, come for me,” he groans. “Come for me before I even take those pretty little panties off.”

It’s the husky growl of his words and his lips against the sweet spot on your neck that push you into your first orgasm, it’s a fairly small one, but your body quakes nonetheless. “That’s it, girl,” he coos, over and over in your ear, fingers never slowing against your clit.

And when you’ve recovered, when he’s looming over you, cock in one hand and the other keeping your legs spread, he’s repeating it then, too. “That’s it,” he says, “Are you ready?”

You nod.

He sinks into you with a groan, his forehead falling into your neck. There’s a burn from the stretch, but you don’t say anything, it’ll go away when he starts to move.

“Fuck, mesh’la,” he grunts, slowly drawing out of you, pushing back in. “You sure you’re ok? You feel tight.”

You don’t respond for a moment, hoping the burn will go away, willing yourself to relax because you want this, you know you do. But your body doesn’t listen. “It hurts a little,” you admit. Boba pulls out of you slowly, drawing back to look you in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?” he questions. He’s clearly frustrated with himself. “It’s on me, mesh’la, I got ahead of myself.”

You look into his eyes, they’re still twinkling, they’re still kind. “I’m a selfish man, mesh’la,” he says, bringing his lips to your ear. “But not with you. You deserve better than that, girl. You’re smart, you know that.” The phrase used to go you deserve better than me, but you’d gotten him to break that habit.

Without missing a beat, he kisses down your neck, over your tits, over stomach, hands groping at the meat of your body as he goes. When he reaches your cunt, his eyes widen. He’s right, he’s never selfish with you, though he enjoys eating you out after he’s come inside you the most.

“Should’ve told me I didn’t do enough,” he scolds lightly, tongue delving into your pussy, bringing your wetness to your clit, lapping at your juices. “You’re smart,” he says between licks “you remember what Fennec told you that night? Never let a man fuck you until he’s earned it,” he tells you. He’s still in the habit of repeating Fennec’s advice while you fuck, as if he hasn’t completely ruined you, as if you would ever fuck another man without him.

After that, Boba’s quiet except for the lewd sounds coming from his tongue on your fat cunt. The way he sucks at your clit, the way he gropes at your tits and squeezes your hips, he’s working for it. Maybe the advice was for him.

“Need you to come on my face, mesh’la,” he groans, vibrations shooting up through your body. Your hips wriggle, but Boba is unrelenting, his hot tongue following you wherever you squirm. “Come on, atta girl,” he moans as your legs start to close around his head. His hands squeeze at the fat of your thighs, encouraging your thrusting into his mouth.

You lose yourself in his touch, lost in your orgasm, legs shaking and aching, chest heaving, eyes clamped shut and head thrown back. Boba loses himself, too, hips rutting against the mattress while his tongue fucks you into overstimulation, his moans growing loud while he guides your body through aftershocks.

When the room quiets again, when your legs relax to sitting on his shoulders, when his tongue moves lazily along your thighs, you whisper, “you earned it.”

He chuckles his low, gravely chuckle. “A bit late.” He sits up, you see his cock glistening in his cum, the hair on his stomach caught in the mess and the sheets with their wet spot. Boba’s grinning.

“That’s so kriffing hot,” you breathe.

He chuckles again, grabbing your panties to clean himself off. “Sorry I can’t fuck you,” he says, knowing tonight he doesn’t have the energy to come again, knowing that you understand but he still feels like he has to apologize.

“Why should you be sorry?” you say, repeating his words from earlier.

“Smart girl,” he laughs, laying beside you. “But usually I fuck you until you can’t think straight.” He presses a kiss between your breasts, “What else do you want tonight, mesh’la? My mouth again? Fingers? I’m sure fennec would be happy to strap in,” he jokes.

The idea of Fennec’s silicone cock inside you while Boba tweaks your nipples and whispers praises in your ear sounded great, but your blinks were growing longer. “Can I just hold you?”

Boba nods, settling into your side with a groan, his warm hand settling onto your breast like it always does. His body is like a furnace in the cold air of the underground palace, lulling you to sleep with ease.

besties be expecting a part ii with miss fennec bc the gears are already turning

#boba x reader #boba fett smut #boba fett x reader #i kind of hate this but i’m posting it anyway lolz

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seriouslysnape · 3 years ago

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Letting Down Easy

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Overstimulation, Breast play.

Word Count: 1,469

“I’m not upset with you, lovely.”

Harry sniffed as the last of his tears leaked from his bleary eyes. 7 orgasms. You had made him cum 7 times and in multiple ways over the course of the last few hours. The poor boy was exhausted. He was completely tuckered out with absolutely nothing left to give. Not to mention that he had slipped far into a subspace somewhere between the fourth and fifth orgasm. He was totally gone and not in his normal mindset.

You couldn’t even depend on him to pick up your sweater off of the floor because he was so tired. His muscles were contracting and releasing as fast as they could from all the adrenaline and overstimulation. His words slurred together and sometimes stringed together a sentence of words that didn’t belong to each other. That’s when you knew he had enough. You never pushed him to the point where he physically couldn’t do it anymore. There was a difference between him thinking he couldn’t give you one more, and then him actually not being able to. You knew to call it quits the second he couldn’t do it.

He was a whimpering mess, and he just couldn’t seem to calm down. You hushed him once you had fallen from your own final climax, running your hands along his chest and core to bring him back down to Earth. Your legs were firmly planted on either side of his hips, not allowing himself to go anywhere. His chest inflated as much as it could with each inhale as he tried to regain his breath.

“Harry…” You sang to him, your voice much lighter and sweeter than it had been previously, “Look at me, baby.”

Harry’s head turned from its lolled side position, his piercing eyes gazing up at you. You could see it in his face that he wasn’t having many thoughts other than that he wanted more, even though you knew he was way too far off for any more.

“Was...was I good, Mommy?” He croaked, his voice small and weak.

You rustled his hair, scratching at his scalp lovingly.

“It’s not Mommy anymore, Harry. It’s [Y/N],” You reminded him, “You were so good. Such a good boy.”

A temporary look of relief washed over his face, his head falling back onto the pillow so far that his eyes were now trained on the headboard.

“A good boy…” He repeated as if it were the nicest thing you had ever told him.

“Yes, Harry. You’re my good boy,” You told him, “You’re all soft now, huh?”

You had said that second part as an attempt to show him that he had indeed done what he was supposed to do. He had done everything you had instructed him to do perfectly and without any flaws. However, his head shot up to peer down at his cock laying relaxed between his legs, and his expression changed to pure panic, letting you know that you shouldn’t have said that.

“S-Soft?!” He sputtered, positively mortified that his erection was gone.

“Well, yeah, love. You got off more than-”

“I’m sorry, Mommy! I’m sorry that I’m not hard and I can’t make you cum anymore!” He squealed, a new set of tears returning to his eyes for a totally different purpose.

You stared down at him with widened, concerned eyes. You had never seen him act quite like this. You had pushed him into subspaces before, but never so much to where he was beside himself with emotions.

“Harry,” You breathed in a surprised tone, “I’m not upset with you, lovely.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bad. I’m not a good boy, I wanna be your good boy, Mommy!” He sobbed, blubbering over his words.

He was a wreck at this point. He was wailing and crying so hard that he was hiccuping between breaths. His glasses fogged up from the condensation of his tears, blocking his vision completely. You reached to pluck them from his face, wiping them off with the edge of the sheet on his bed as you spoke as lightly as possible.

“Listen to me, angel,” You ordered, putting his glasses on his face again once the tears stopped forming, “You are a good boy. You’re always my good boy. You did such a good job, and I’m proud of you. But you gotta come back for me, Harry.”

He didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like that at all.

“But I’m right here! I wanna make you feel good and I wanna make Mommy happy!” He shrieked, still completely overwhelmed with feelings.

You were beginning to really worry now. You feared you had pushed him too hard and now you weren’t sure how to let him back down easy. Your sweet talking and gentle caresses weren’t working.

“It’s [Y/N], Harry. Not Mommy anymore,” You reminded him again, “You make me very, very happy.”

“But I can’t get hard anymore! I can’t make Mommy feel good.” He coughed, beginning to literally choke on his cries.

“Harry, how many times did you cum?” You asked, trying a different tactic.

He sniffed again.

“What?” He queried meekly.

“How many times did you cum for me?” You asked again.

His eyes shone with tears and ecstasy as he refused to look away from you.

“Uhm...seven?” He said more as a question, because honestly he had lost track.

“That’s right. Seven,” You nodded with a reassuring grin, “You did such a good job for me. You were my good boy like you are every time.”

The tear tracks on his cheeks were breaking your heart. His entire behavior was killing you. You felt terrible for making him this upset.

“Every time...your good boy…” He echoed his tears stopping once again.

You nodded once more, hoping that maybe you had finally begun to pull him out of his subspace.

“Yes, Harry. My good boy.” You assured him.

His cries mellowed out back into a few dull whimpers. Thankfully, he seemed to be breathing easier and the shaking of his muscles had dwindled into occasional spasms. His gaze trailed from your face to your free breasts, his eyes staring hungrily at them. Harry always had a bit of a soft spot for your tits. He loved watching them bounce when you rode him or when he thrusted into you. He adored them. Your lips upturned into more of a smirk when you caught his glance.

“You want to suck my tits, baby? Would that make you feel better?” You questioned him, already knowing the answer.

His eyes brightened when he looked at your eyes again.

“Can I? Please?” He pleaded, his lips already parting with desire.

You unstraddled him in response, laying down on the mattress and against the pillows with a relaxed sigh. You coaxed him to lay between your legs so his head was in the right position.

“Go ahead, sweet boy. I know you like this.” You granted him.

He gave your breasts another look over before he wrapped his mouth around your right nipple. You didn’t dare let out the moan that threatened to escape, because you were afraid it’d send him back into hysterics if he heard you. It undoubtedly sent rushes of arousal through you, but you could deal with it on your own later...or just ignore it until next time. A content hum bubbled out of Harry’s chest as his tongue swirled around your bud, creating suction to send the most wonderful waves through you and to put himself at ease.

Harry didn’t really suck your tits often. If he did it was in the heat of the moment or because he was super stressed out. It was never in a moment like this. He had his head resting between your breasts as he nursed your nipple. His ear picked up every thump of your heart, which shockingly helped bring him out of the sex ridden daze he was in.

He turned his head at one point to pay your other breast some love, sucking and kissing it just as he had the other one. Your hand was on his head, rubbing his hair and dragging your nails carefully through it. The silence was comforting other than the occasional sucking sound being heard from his mouth, and it gave both of you time to recover.

After maybe ten minutes or so, Harry lifted his head and smiled sleepily. He wasn’t completely out of his haze yet, but he was much better than before. He’d be okay soon enough. A good night of tender care and an even better night of sleep was sure to bring him back fully.

“Feeling okay, Harry?” You asked him.

He nodded his head lazily, leaving another kiss between your breasts.

“Yeah. Never better.”

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x female reader #harry potter smut #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fluff #harry potter imagine #seriouslysnape

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five-rivers · 3 years ago

Text

While You Still Can

For Ectober Day 2: Scream

Warnings: Accidental self-injury, repeated injury, minor blood, muteness.

The first time Danny got laryngitis was the day after returning from the bad future. He’d been a bit of a baby about it, too, because not being able to communicate effectively while already feeling like garbage and being depressed wasn’t great. Jazz had been very understanding about it all.

He got it again the next time he used the Ghostly Wail, and resigned himself to the inconvenient side effect. The Wail was sort of a last resort power to begin with, since it drained so much of his energy and left him vulnerable. He hoped that with time and practice it would get better.

He hoped in vain.

The day after Tucker's resignation from the student body presidential race, Danny, Sam, and Tucker splayed, exhausted and still slightly sandy, in Sam's basement. They'd settled on watching a nature documentary at some point, although none of them were really paying attention to it.

Tucker sighed heavily and readjusted himself so that his legs hung over the arm of the loveseat he’d commandeered. “So, I’m tied with Danny for most frequently possessed,” said Tucker.

“Seems like it,” said Sam, lazily twitching her foot to kick Tucker’s. “Unless mind control doesn’t count as being possessed.”

“Ugh. I hate this. Do you think we should try to practice throwing off overshadowing again? I hate that, too.”

“Dunno. Danny, do you think that would do any good?”

Danny, because he had the attention span of a caffeinated squirrel, tried to answer verbally. This was painful and did not work well.

The sound from the documentary briefly dissolved into something that wasn’t quite static. All three teens sat up, straight and wary of any ghostly intruders.

Danny’s ghost sense did not go off. Danny, who hadn’t been looking forward to how his ghost sense would feel against his abused throat, sighed in relief.

“Wait,” said Sam, “the static- Danny, was that you?”

Danny shrugged. If it was, it wasn’t on purpose.

“Maybe… Can you try to talk again?”

That would hurt. He made a face.

“I know,” said Sam. “But if it was you, don’t you want to know?”

“Could be the start of a new ghost power,” said Tucker, lying back down.

Danny rolled his eyes, but once again tried to speak. Once again, the sound of the documentary cut out, replaced by something else. Something that wasn’t words, but also wasn’t just random noise.

“Weird,” said Tucker. “So. New power, I guess. Do you think you’ll be able to do that without your voice gone?”

Danny shrugged. It wasn’t like these things came with a guidebook. Also, this didn’t seem particularly useful for anything except getting his friends’ attention when he was temporarily mute.

“I wonder if it works on recordings,” mused Tucker. “It’d be useful for making sure no one catches you transforming on film.”

Ah. That was true.

“We’d have to test it,” said Sam.

Danny dropped back onto the floor. He didn’t want to do anything today.

“Later?” suggested Sam. “Maybe once your voice is back?”

Danny gave her a thumbs up.

Danny’s voice came back the next day, as usual. Trying to mess with audio electronics had no effect, so they sort of forgot about it and ignored it. It wasn’t important.

They didn’t think it was important.

Danny kept using his Ghostly Wail as a trump card. His voice always took a vacation afterwards, but never for too long. Never long enough for Danny to worry. His parents were making noises about bringing Danny to the doctor, maybe a throat specialist. But they were ridiculously easy to distract.

Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

Until Technus came by with a massive upgrade, courtesy of Vlad, Danny suspected, and Danny had to use his wail twice in a row.

He managed to cap the thermos before he doubled over, coughing. Blood speckled the asphalt below him. Which was disturbing for a number of reasons, not least of which being that he was in ghost form, and shouldn’t be bleeding red at all.

He heard a gasp, and twisted in a way that probably would have broken a normal, human spine.

Sam and Tucker were looking at him with a great deal of consternation and worry.

“Dude…” said Tucker, softly.

Danny winced, and his rings flickered.

“Don’t do that now,” said Sam, scoldingly. “Shoot. We need to get you to Frostbite or something. That’s- Oh my gosh. Frick.”

Danny grimaced. They’d seen him more beaten up, but this amount of blood from the mouth probably was a more disturbing image than bruises and random cuts.

His rings flickered again.

Tucker swallowed hard. “We’ve gotta… Um. Somewhere to transform. Yeah.”

“Alley,” said Sam, pushing.

Danny let go of his transformation as soon as he was out of sight, and leaned against Tucker. He was so incredibly tired. He coughed, lightly, and more blood dribbled from his mouth.

“Oh, gross,” complained Tucker. “Are you, ah, jeeze, you’re not okay.”

No joke.

“Frostbite,” said Sam. “Danny, you up to- What am I saying, of course you’re not. Tucker, you’re going to have to drive.”

“Uh,” started Tucker.

“Since I’m going to be dealing with first aid stuff.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, I can drive.”

Danny wheezed as Tucker made another wrong turn and almost plowed them into a half-melted wall. Sure, the Speeder could phase through just about anything here, but that ‘just about’ was a significant concern.

Plus, going too far that way would put a lot of extra time on their journey. Like. A lot. Some kind of fourth spacial dimension nonsense.

“Sorry!” said Tucker. “Did your parents update the controls or something?”

They had, but Danny couldn’t exactly explain how at the moment. He shrugged.

Eventually, they did arrive at the Far Frozen. The yetis took one look at Danny’s pale face and the blood dripping down his chin and rushed him away to their hospital. Frostbite arrived, and the next hour or so was a whirlwind of tests and scans, particularly of his neck and throat.

They… looked worried. Which made Danny worried.

They gave him good painkillers, though, and lying on the ice bed did wonders for his tension.

Frostbite came back. “Great One,” said Frostbite. He settled himself, fur shifting. “Your Wail is an amazing power. From our scans of your core, it looks like you are also going to develop other vocal powers.” He paused. The silence stretched long and deep. Normally, Danny would have tried to fill it. “But,” said Frostbite, finally, “those powers are not compatible with your human vocal cords. Using them damages your human vocal cords.”

Danny nodded.

“Your ghost half will replace them,” said Frostbite, “but they… they would not be at all the same.”

Danny tilted his head.

“You are probably confused, because you speak in your ghost form, but the structures are very different. You… You would be unlikely to be able to communicate in a way humans would understand, without significant practice. Not while you were in your human form.”

That… didn’t make sense. He communicated with people now. Frostbite and the other ghosts communicated just fine.

“It’s just the type of ghost you are,” said Frostbite. “You are… powerful, Great One, bound to a powerful and painful path. I am sorry for that.”

There was something so pained and apologetic in Frostbite’s tone that Danny started shaking his head. He hardly knew what he was saying, and he still couldn’t help but reject it.

“I am sorry, Great One,” said Frostbite, “but if you keep using your Ghostly Wail, your human half will become mute.”

Frostbite knew, then, just like Danny knew. Danny wouldn’t be able to stop using his wail. Not while people were in danger. He couldn’t abandon people he could save.

Tears collected in the corners of his eyes.

It made him want to scream.

(While he still could.)

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt trick #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectober 2021 #ectober #fic #fanfic #ectober day 2: scream

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yourtamaki · 4 years ago

Text

the broken melody of us

matsukawa x f!reader

word count: 4k

request: mattsun hurt/comfort + neglect?

warnings: hurt/comfort, neglect, body worship, praise kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

it was a song and dance at this point. a well rehearsed play with a blinding spotlight on the exhausted actors onstage. both of you go through the motions, no life behind the words you’ve spoken so many times they held no meaning anymore. you don’t know why you keep up the charade. you never expect a different result yet still you pick up the phone everyday and call your boyfriend.

“you think you’ll be home in time for dinner?”

sometimes you get a different, automated message. “maybe. might have to stay late,” or “can’t, i’ve gotta finish something up,” or your least favourite. a simple, clipped, “no.”

“don’t stay out too late.” you should cut this part from the script, he never listens.

“i’ll try.”

“i love you.” this line is always to be spoken quietly, followed by holding your breath while you wait for his response. it’s the only reason you make these calls. this is your only chance to hear him say it and pretend he means it as much as he once did.

“love you too.” the line goes dead, the lights dim and he’s gone. you’re alone on an empty stage staring out at a bored audience. bored of the foolish protagonist who keeps them locked in the theatre, playing the same ending over and over and expecting something to give, to change. they watch on, silent and judging while you barter away what little dignity you have left.

let them watch.

the rejection doesn’t sting as badly as it used to. you’ve learned to bear it, swallow down the hurt that sits like a stone in your gut and go about your day, filling it with any meaningless errand that would stop your mind from wandering back to him.

mattsun was subtle, you could give him that much. the way he slowly pulled away from your arms until you could hardly remember how he felt beneath your palms. the realization that you don’t really know your boyfriend anymore was slow to hit you but it knocked the air out of your lungs when it did. it crashed down on you when you woke in the middle of the night and turned to stare at his back gently rising and falling with every breath. his hair is longer then you remember and you don’t know why the thought has a lump forming in your throat. you focus instead on the broad expanse of his back. he’s tense, even in sleep, shoulders rigid and you’re sure if you could see his face, his brows would be furrowed. subtle changes that are enough for you to realize you’ve been shut out of his life.

you used to know him. when you were university kids who thought the future would never catch up to them and spent countless days in each other’s company. it wasn’t so much you knew him, it felt like you were him. and he was you. less attached to the hip and more intertwined with one another. you two were of one mind, to the point where you knew what the other needed before they’d even say it.

your mattsun who was always just a text away.

your mattsun who would indulge your late night drives, who would look at you with a permanent crooked smile on his face and love in his eyes.

“you think we’ll always be like this?” you said one night, straddling him in panties and a baggy hoodie in the backseat and lazily kissing beneath the stars. and because he was yours and understood every little anxious thought that crossed your mind, he didn’t question why you were asking, didn’t make you explain what you meant, didn’t try to make a half assed joke about it.

his hands trailed up your sides as he contemplated his answer, sending shivers up your spine. “probably not. things always change. we’ll change with them.”

“what if things get worse?”

“they might. but what if they get better? just cause it’s different doesn’t mean it's scary, angel.”

“i know. but i hate thinking about it cause things are so good right now. i want it to last forever.”

“we got time. let’s make the most of it, yeah?” he gripped your hips, slowly grinding you against his growing bulge and pulling you back into a kiss, sighing as your lips slotted together. you took control of the pace and grinned against him when a groan spilled into your mouth.

“is that your way of saying we should hurry up and fuck?”

“it’s working, isn’t it?” before you could pull your sweater up over your head, he cupped your face and brought your forehead to his, sincerity shining through his dark eyes. “i’ll always love you. that’ll never change. got it?”

“got it.” you managed to push the words out despite the lump that formed in your throat. he kept his eyes locked on yours as he slid your panties to the side and sank inside you, the familiar stretch a welcome one.

it was nothing special, one night of many spent panting into each other’s mouths with an unspoken promise still hanging from your lips. but it was a memory you circled back to often, so often you could hear the echo of his vow ring through your head.

your fears came to pass not long after that. life caught up and tore him from you, leaving you a shattered mess in the aftermath. you tried to fit jagged pieces of yourself back together in an attempt to remake the person you used to be but what stared back at you only left you keenly aware of the empty space he used to reside.

these days, you like going to the roof of your apartment and letting the wind blow through those countless gaps in your soul. you feel whole for a short while as it whistles through you, the air filled with the broken melody of you, of the relationship that slips past your grasp more everyday. it’s shrill and ear piercing and leaves goosebumps littered on your skin.

you can’t stop listening to it.

it’s where you were now, staring out as the sun dipped below the horizon and listening to the haunting sound that’s been your only company in recent memory. later, you’ll go home and crawl into bed desperate for any warmth and no time to miss the heat of a body next to yours. your phone lights up bright in contrast to the darkening sky and it takes you a few moments of staring blankly at the screen for it to sink in that mattsun is trying to call you.

this isn’t part of the script.

you don’t know your lines.

and yet you find yourself answering anyway, hitting the green button before the call drops and you raise your phone to your ear silently.

“are you okay?” his voice comes out rushed and strung together almost before your phone is pressed to your ear.

“why’re you asking?”

“remember that time you failed that essay? i think it was third year and you hid in your room all day and wouldn’t answer the phone?” you did remember. how you couldn’t bear to face the world that day with the crushing weight of failure hanging over you and how shocked you were to see mattsun standing at the front door. “did i ever tell you why i checked up on you?”

“no.”

“the whole day i felt, in my gut, like i needed to see you. i can’t describe it, it was like a stab that just dug deeper until i went to your place. would you believe me if i said i have that feeling right now?”

“i- i would.” you say quietly, wondering if he could even hear you over the roar of the wind.

“are you okay?” he repeats. there’s a weight behind his words that has tears springing to your eyes.

“no, issei ‘m not.”

“i’m almost home, i’m parking right now. i’ll be up in a few minutes, okay? wait for me, angel.”

you were always waiting for him, weren’t you? what's a couple more minutes? you hang up and try in vain push down the wave of anxiousness that hits you. it’s just mattsun, you try to remind yourself. even if it’s been awhile since you’ve really felt like a part of his life, he’s still the person you fell in love with. right?

even if the issei from the past would never have made you feel so alone. the issei that was free from the hardships of real life, of 9-5s and bills due and rent to pay. you miss that issei, mourn for him on empty rooftops everyday. maybe he’s still alive somewhere within this new issei but it’s not like you would know.

you head off the roof, shivering slightly as you make your way home. the days were only getting colder, you should’ve known not to stay out for so long. you were trying to get your shaky hands to cooperate and unlock the door when you hear the elevator dings open and your name being called out.

“you weren’t home?” he asks, gently prying your keys from your grasp and opening the door for you both. as soon as he locks it behind you, his hands are covering yours once more. “baby you’re freezing.”

words. where were your words? you couldn’t call up any as he brought your joined hands to his mouth, blowing hot air on them and rubbing them between his to warm them up. this is the closest you’ve been to him in who knows how long and you couldn’t summon up a single sentence. it’s not your fault. his attention has always stunned you into silence.

he thought you were painfully shy the first time you met and though that was half true, you mostly found yourself silently panicking about the handsome man that suddenly sat beside you. the professor had paired the class off to discuss the readings for that lecture and your interest had only come to life when you saw the dark haired man make his way to you.

“i’m gonna be honest.” he said as he plopped down beside you and showed you the blank document open on his laptop. “i have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing right now. do you?”

it was his eyes, you decided much later, hugging your pillow and staring at the text you just received from a new number. you came alive under his gaze like you could finally catch your breath, everything dull until his eyes landed on you. you don’t believe in love at first sight, this was something different. it was the dust of collapsing stars finding each other once more. it was strings of fate being braided together. it was more profound, more important than love and it all happened in a moment.

you nodded in response to his earlier question though it was clear neither of you were paying any attention to what was going on in class, too caught up in the small bubble that surrounded you and drowned out the rest of the world.

“matsukawa. i’m- my name’s matsukawa.” you must’ve given your name in return judging by the smile he gave you in return. “so what’re we doing, partner?”

this time, you forced a proper response, intensely aware of how you held yourself in a way you’ve never been before. “yeah, she just wants us to talk about today’s reading.”

matsukawa watched you pull up your notes, resting his head in his hand while you began explaining the general concepts. you paused when you noticed he was still looking at you and not at the notes you had angled towards him.

“am i explaining it okay?”

“we’re a month into the semester, how have i not noticed you before?”

“guess you don’t notice something you’re not looking for.”

just then the professor grabbed everyone’s attention, the student’s quietly migrating back to their seats but matsukawa stayed where he was. instead, you could just hear him speak under his breath, more to himself then to you but you still managed to pick it up, your face going hot as it echoed in your head. “trust me, i’m looking now.”

the memory leaves you more vulnerable than you expected, soft in his arms as the numbness finally fades and the shaking stops.

“where were you?” he says.

“the roof.” his brows furrow, lips pulled down in a frown. it’s strange feeling yourself falling back into reading him so easily, not needing him to ask to know he wanted you to explain why. “i like going up there. this place is too quiet with just me in it.”

the longer you watch him, the more you pick up from his body language. the confusion then understanding that flits across his face, the underlying care you’re so familiar with as he smooths his thumb over the back of your hand. but more than anything you start to see his guilt. his muscles are rigid with it, it swims in his eyes that never quite seem to meet yours.

“i’ve fucked up, haven't i?” he finally says when he realizes you won’t be the one to breach the subject.

“issei…”

“no, i have. things have been so endless, i feel like i’m half awake and i’ve hurt you because of it.”

you squeeze his hands, trying to reassure him. “just talk to me. please.”

“i hate it. work is nonstop, everyday is the same shit over and over. it’s just a wave that keeps knocking me down and i can barely get my footing before it pushes me down again. and every day i think about quitting just to get ready the next morning.

“if i was alone, if… if i didn’t have you i would’ve quit so long ago but i want to give you the life you deserve and i can’t do that if i’m broke. and it all might be for nothing cause i might’ve lost you already.”

the confession ends with mattsun clearing his throat, blinking fast and concentrating solely on your laced hands. you can’t seem to catch your breath, struggling under the weight he had carried silently until now as he finally shares the burden with you.

“you haven’t lost me, issei. look at me.” you wait until his eyes meet yours before dropping your voice to a whisper. “you haven’t lost me.”

“i don’t deserve you.”

“it’s not about deserving, i chose you. i chose to love you, i chose to stay when things got bad. yeah, you hurt me.” it’s impossible to miss the full body flinch at your words, “and i’m not ready to forgive you just yet. but that doesn’t mean i’m giving up on us. i don’t want you working yourself to death for me. i don’t care where we live or how much money you spend on me. i don’t need all of that, i just need you. got it?”

“got it.” you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows down whatever feeling overcomes him, “i’m sorry.”

“i know.”

“tell me what you need, please. i need- i need to make this right.”

you answer by leaning forward and mattsun meets you halfway. the kiss is soft in contrast to the way you bundle the front of his shirt in your fists, afraid the moment might end before it’s even begun but mattsun takes his time cherishing you. there’s regret and gratitude and love that dances across your tongue and the taste has pressure building behind your eyes.

it isn’t enough. you need him closer, need him to line the cracks of your soul with his touch. you pull just far back enough to break the kiss and mumble against his lips, “more, ‘sei please. i’m so cold.”

“anything you want, pretty baby. let me make you feel good, yeah?”

his lips crash back down on yours with renewed eagerness. there’s a desperation that wasn’t there a moment ago fuelling you both and urging you to stumble blind into the bedroom, barely letting your mouths detach as you fumble and undress each other.

it’s not until you’re naked before him that your head clears a bit and shyness comes creeping in. he cups your face as though he could sense you curling into yourself and simply says, “beautiful.”

the utter conviction in his voice is enough to dispel any insecurities before they have a chance to latch on and you turn your head to kiss the center of his palm, silently telling him you were all right. together you land in a tangled heap in bed, his half hard cock resting on your thigh. mattsun kisses his way down your neck, licking and sucking at every sensitive spot he had mapped out over the years.

“issei…” you say, impatience tinging your voice as you feel your core throb with need.

“i’ll get you there, angel, you know i will. let me take my time, i missed you.”

true to his word, he began kissing every inch of skin he could reach. your tits, your stomach, your thighs all the way down to your ankles, he made sure to shower with affection. it’s nearly overwhelming. you knew you were starved for his attention but it feels like something breaks loose inside you the longer his mouth trails over your body, whispering declarations into your skin that left you tingling in his wake. by the time his fingers dip between your legs, your thighs are sticky with arousal, clit thrumming and begging to be touched.

“look at my pretty baby’s pussy. all wet just for me?”

“mhmm ‘s all for you, issei.”

he hums, swirling his middle finger around your entrance and pressing the thick digit inside with ease. it’s only a few pumps later he adds another, stretching out your gummy walls. his other hand drifts over your mound, his thumb finally giving your clit some attention as his fingers graze over a spot inside you that has your hips rising off the bed.

“stay still. you want to be my good girl, right?” the quiet authority that radiates from mattsun has you clenching around him, doing your best to do as he asks and keep your legs spread for him. “there you go. you’re taking me so well, baby. you’re close, aren’t you? i can feel it”

mattsun loves showing off how well he knew your body, how it never took long for you to crumble beneath him. a few more idle circles with the pad of his thumb and your orgasm washes over you, rising gently and leaving you relaxed in its wake.

that state didn’t last long as he replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking at your clit that twitches against his tongue, still sensitive from your high. “issei! w-wait please give me a sec-”

his glare is enough to cut through your babbling, his fingers never slowing in their strokes against that sweet spot. you let out a low moan as he adds yet another finger, the stretch just shy of uncomfortable but it’s quick to fade into pleasure once again. the flame in your gut is far more intense this time and you can’t stop the whimpers he pulls from you. you thread your fingers through his dark curls, tugging on them and pulling him deeper into your folds.

“that’s it, princess. cum on my tongue and i’ll stuff you full, i promise. you can do it, c’mon baby.”

the encouragement has the coil in your gut tightening once more and the lewd sounds of mattsun lapping up every drop that escapes you is enough to snap it. when the blood stops ringing in your ears, you realize he’s shifted your positions. he’s sat cross-legged on the bed with you pulled into his lap, legs locked around his waist. his cock is pinned between your stomachs, smearing precum on your skin and your mouth waters as you catch sight of the blushing tip.

he whispers your name to grab your attention, naked devotion plain on his face when you gaze up at him. “i love you.”

this. this was your breaking point. the words you longed to hear every time you picked up the phone for those dreaded calls. your vision blurs with tears that well up and spill down your cheeks before you could blink them away. “you do?”

“i do, baby, with everything i’ve got. i-“ he falters for a moments, visibly steeling himself for what he wanted to say. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you. there’s not a future i can picture that doesn’t include you. you’re it for me.”

“i want that too ‘sei.” you hiccup, more tears trickle out faster than you can wipe them clear.

you feel his whole body relax, hands rubbing at your sides to soothe you. “don’t cry, angel. wait till i’m inside you at least.”

“shut up.” your laugh comes out watery but it feels good to smile. “how do you go from sweet to nasty so fast?”

“just wanted to see you smile.” you try and fail to suppress another grin that only widens when mattsun peppers your cheeks with loud kisses. “so pretty and all mine.”

“all yours.” you repeat, grinding your soaked folds along the underside of his cock. “and you’re mine, right?”

“that’s right, princess. go on, take what’s yours.”

sinking down on mattsun feels like coming home, the empty ache finally gone as he fills you and you both moan when he bottoms out. there’s no way for you to bounce in this position but you find that you don’t mind. you feel closer to him like this, what little space there is between you vibrating with how vulnerable you both were.

it’s relaxing, slowly rolling your hips against each other, not building towards anything and indulging in the other’s touch. your hands roam across his broad back, sucking dark marks into his neck while he grabs at your ass, kneading and groping so possessively you clench around him.

“fuck.” he groans next to your ear. “keeping squeezing me with that princess cunt, you feel so fucking good. just like that, good girl.”

“issei…” you whimper, pressure gradually building in your gut as your grinding gets sloppy and legs grow weak.

“what is it, baby? use your words.”

“want more, ‘sei i want your cum.”

“yeah? want me to fill up this greedy pussy and keep you warm with my cum?” he leans forward, keeping you cradled in his arms as your back hits the mattress, your legs still crossed around his waist keeping him as close to you as possible.

you nod, half delirious with need and mattsun begins thrusting in earnest. his cock is so thick he nudges against every sensitive spot along your walls, his tip battering just below your cervix and hitting so deep you swear you can feel it in your throat. his hands pry yours open from where you had been gripping the sheets and laces his fingers with yours. a swell of love rises in you and has you gasping for air as he fucks you into the mattress. you can’t even hear your own moans over the squelch as you grow wetter and wetter and the smack of his heavy balls against your ass.

your orgasm takes both of you by surprise, ripping through you so violently you’re left a shaking mess. mattsun’s hips stutter, bucking wildly into you as he nears his own high and you stare in awe as he reaches it. it’s a sight you’ll never get enough of, how beautiful he looks as he spills endlessly inside you, mindlessly grinding it deeper with his softening cock.

“you okay, angel?” he asks, pulling you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“mhmm. can we stay like this?” you weren’t ready to put any space between you, not so soon after reconnecting.

“‘course we can.” he settles over you, knowing exactly what you need. his weight a reassurance that grounds you in a way words never could. it’s a conversation in its own right, one that could only pass between two people who knew each other as well as you knew each other. in the quiet afterglow he tells you that he’s here with you. that you were going to work on being okay again. that he wouldn’t let you feel that lonely ever again. and you believe him with every fibre of your being.

dedicated to: @honeykeigo @ohno-otome @keigobaby @saintdabi @toshidou @sawam0chi

#matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #matsukawa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei smut #matsukawa issei angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! smut

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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better with an audience

w/c: 1,028

warnings: lots lots lots of suggestiveness, swearing, and making out

a/n: no one asked for this but literally i had to get it out of me? you can prob guess what it’s about to be so you’re welcome and enjoy :D

“god, i need a shower,” tom groans, falling onto his dressing room couch while you shut the door. he just finished up a shoot for gq, and you got to watch him do it. you walk over to him with a curious smile playing on your lips. he’s sipping from a water bottle he’d left in here. “i’m so sweaty,” he half says half gulps, licking the water droplets off his lips.

you’re silent as you take tom in. cheeks and chest glistening under the lights, slender fingers covered in rings, stray curls framing his face. his lips are swollen as he takes another sip of water. you swear he’s something like a perfectly sculpted statue come to life right in front of your eyes.

“can i join you? in the shower?” you ask him, your voice low. tom caps his water bottle and quirks an eyebrow. “mm, you want to?” “yeah...” your eyes trail down his body for the nth time today. he’s sitting with his legs parted, lazily leaned against the cushion behind him. it’s very reminiscent of one of the pictures he took. that one was your personal favorite.

tom playfully pats one of his thighs. “have a seat, love. mr. holland will see you now.” you know he’s only quoting fifty shades of grey, but even that makes you feel warmer than you already are. biting back a grin, you happily take the very inviting spot between his legs. you’re straddling him, hands on his shoulders, his own hands holding you by the small of your back.

“you know, it’s really hot when you manspread,” you admit and move forward so you’re closer to him. his fingers move across you, thumbs gently brushing over your sides. “i thought you hated manspreading,” tom breathes out a laugh. “not when you do it. that was one of your best pictures.” your chest presses against his exposed one. “maybe one of your best ever.”

“you really liked the shoot, huh? i should bring you along more often, then,” he hums, leaning his head down so your faces are just inches apart. you reach down between you two and wrap the chain tom is wearing around your fingers. “definitely should. i’m a good audience.” you fix your gaze on his lips. “and, a good after party.”

tom chuckles, his breath fanning over your face as he pushes his forehead against yours. “i do love a good after party.” he grips at your hips. his rings dig into you. “fuck, tom. you’re so... sexy,” you murmur out, gulping down spit. your mouth isn’t the only place that’s getting wet. “think i’m just better with an audience,” he repeats your words from before in a rasp.

you can’t stand another second of not kissing him. so, you do. your lips brush his softly for all of one second before tom is kissing back. he instantly deepens it, pulling you somehow further into him by your hips. you let out a sigh when he gives you a small squeeze. you’re still toying with his chain, your nose nudging his, lips moving perfectly against each other’s.

tom brings a hand up to the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair. you poke your tongue out and run it over his lower lip, earning a quiet whine from him. “love, come on. we’ve gotta go soon.” “soon isn’t now,” you challenge. your tongue slips into tom’s mouth before he can say anything else, which he can’t be mad at. his eyes flutter closed and fingers tug at your locks.

he swirls his tongue around yours, free hand roaming your body. a squeal escapes you when it lands on your thigh because you’re so hyper sensitive. he’s working you up. you pull your mouth off of his, and he smiles at you, eyes hooded. you’re mad at yourself for not dressing up in a skirt now. you’d thought about doing it this morning.

sensing your internal battle, tom slides a hand into the waistband of your bottoms. you shudder in the most amazing way when his cool rings meet your hot skin. “jesus... you need to start wearing these, babe,” you breathe out. “at home.” his fingers glide down your thigh, in more, inching over until he’s almost where you need him. “very demanding today, aren’t we?” tom teases, planting another kiss on your lips.

you only let him give you a peck, then you’re kissing over to his cheek. “i can’t,” a kiss to his jawline. “help it.” your lips drag down his neck slowly, tom moving his fingers at the same pace on your skin. he’s so close to the exact spot you want. so close. “try to,” tom suggests in a cocky tone. he tilts his head up for you, eyes darkening as you look up at him.

“can’t,” you mumble, starting to kiss down his chest. he laughs to himself at how he’s got you acting. all it took was some nice clothes that he sweated through and random jewelry law picked out. “what have i gotten into you?” he wonders aloud. he’s back to holding your hips for support. his breath hitches as your lips move down his stomach, unbuttoning whatever is left of his shirt while you go.

“you haven’t gotten into me yet,” you joke, but not really. tom shifts under you and has to close his eyes. “shit, y/n/n.” “alright, christian grey.” you’re getting him back for his fifty shades reference. you continue to kiss down his skin until you reach the middle button of his pants. tom wants you to keep going, really wants you to. it can’t happen here, though.

“time out. you’re not gonna suck me off when i’m all gross and someone could walk in,” tom sighs, disappointing the both of you. you sit back up on him and give an eye roll for dramatic effect. “fine, like i didn’t just have your sweat in my mouth.” “love,” he grins despite himself, hugging you to his chest since you don’t seem to mind. you return the smile when he kisses your forehead.

“let’s go home, have that shower.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine

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mydearhosea · 3 years ago

Text

@imberrygood asked: I’m not sure if you’ve ever done this before as I’m a recent follower! I’d love to see what you might come up with for some younger Dutch/Hosea, back when it was just the curious couple and their unruly son 🥺 platonic, romantic, whatever you have in mind… maybe finding a little abandoned shack and making it home before they have to move on? Or all three squeezing together in a tent because that’s all they have?

I improvised a little but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 💞

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, Dutch Van Der Linde.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2.3k

Story under cut

Arthur wasn't sure he'd felt this miserable in months. He'd somehow managed to get sick with the flu over the course of twenty four hours, which meant that they'd been forced to seek shelter in a shack a little ways off the road they'd been following so Arthur could rest for the night. So as Dutch cared for the horses hitched in the barn outside, Hosea created a fire and began to make some medicine for the sick boy sitting on the couch with him.

"It's not fair," Arthur mumbled hoarsely into the sleeves of Hosea's coat, resting the back of his head against the arm rest as he watched the man beside him work in silence. He was already finding it harder to breathe due to his nose blocking, and despite how warm the cabin was, he still shivered and trembled under the fabric of the warm coat. "Why am I sick? I ain't done nothing to deserve this."

"Just bad luck, is all. It happens to all of us," Hosea replied lowly, ignoring the pouty glare he saw Arthur giving him out the corner of his eye. After a moment more of heating up the liquid inside his cup, he gave it some time to cool down before gently holding it out for Arthur to take.

"It won't taste as nice as the other stuff I make you, but hopefully it'll help with that sniffle of yours."

Arthur simply grunted in response, holding the mug tightly in between his hands in a fruitless attempt to warm himself up. Once he was somewhat occupied, Hosea pushed himself forward a little and let the back of his hand come to rest on the boy's forehead, feeling for his temperature.

"You just need lots of rest," he murmured, gently brushing some of Arthur's hair out of his eyes before retracting his hand back to his lap. "Luckily, we don't gotta leave for a day or two, and there's plenty of supplies about for us to use until you're back on your feet. Dutch and I will go get more if we run low."

Arthur's reply was muffled by the fabric of the coat he was wrapped in. Hosea could see his face beginning to go a little red, and with a raised eyebrow, asked him to repeat himself.

"Don't want to be alone."

Hosea's lips parted slightly as the realisation settled and he shook his head, resting one of his hands on Arthur's bent knee to give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "I meant one at a time. We ain't gonna leave you here alone."

Arthur couldn't give anything more than a halfhearted smile in response, too tired and cold to find any energy to be verbal. With a shallow breath in, he gingerly pulled his knees further up to his chest and lazily lulled his head back against the armrest of the couch, allowing himself to fully relax for just a moment.

For a short period of time, everything was virtually silent, save for the loud pattering of the rain against the roof and windows and the gentle crackling of the fire. It wasn't until he felt Hosea's lips against his forehead that he opened his eyes again, humming ever so quietly.

"I'll be outside with Dutch if you need me. Try to drink that tea, please."

"Wanna take your coat with you?"

Hosea shook his head, already heading towards the front door that led out to the barn where their horses were being kept. On his way out, he grabbed Dutch's old winter coat off the rack by the door and shrugged it on. "Keep that one until we get you one of your own. It ain't the best for weather like this, but It'll keep you warm, at least."

"Can I come help?"

Hosea only had to give him a look for Arthur to know the answer to that question, and it clearly wasn't the answer he was looking for. With a dramatic huff, he turned himself towards the fire and began to slowly sip at his tea, resisting the urge to twist is face up in disgust each time the taste hit his tongue. He ignored Hosea's low chuckle.

"I hope you know, I will be getting Dutch involved if I see you outside."

"Is that a threat?"

"No." Hosea didn't bother to look at Arthur as he started to button up the coat he was wearing. "That's a promise. You're sick, Arthur. You need your rest."

"Well, we all know I listen to you more than I listen to Dutch, so joke's on you."

The man rolled his eyes. "I'm leaving."

With that, he stepped out into the rain.

By the time Hosea and Dutch had finally done everything that needed to be done and brought the rest of their things inside, Arthur had nearly fallen asleep on the couch, his empty cup sitting on the ground and his body as curled up as much as it possibly could be with the coat wrapped around him. As soon as Dutch saw him, he frowned, placing all his things down on the dining table before leaving to crouch down beside the boy's hunched-over figure.

"How you feeling, son?"

"Bad," Arthur muttered, turning his face away from the light and pressing it into the fabric of the couch. Not long after, he felt the couch dip a little, closely followed by a hand resting on the back of his head, gently massaging him. "Everything hurts 'n I can't stay warm."

"Fire ain't helping much?"

The boy shook his head.

"I wish you had of told us you weren't feeling well sooner."

"Didn't wanna be a burden."

Dutch looked over just in time to see Hosea rolling his eyes from the kitchen. "Your health is not a burden, Arthur - but more to the point, you are not a burden. Never. These things happen. People get sick."

Arthur wasn't sure how to respond. The feeling of Dutch's fingertips gently massaging the back of his head had him relaxing nearly completely into the cusions of the couch, Hosea's coat still tight around him. His eyes begun to flicker closed and his breathing started to even out, his relaxation only coming to a halt when Hosea gingerly crouched down beside him with a hot cup of tea in his hand.

"This isn't more of that stuff you gave me, is it?" Arthur found himself grimacing at the very thought, and Hosea chuckled, shaking his head.

"No. It's the tea you like. Take it, I've made it extra warm for you. Once you're done with that, one of us will take you to bed."

"There's only one, unfortunately, so you can either sleep in your bed roll or with us," Dutch put in.

Arthur didn't even hesitate. "With you."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I want to be where It's warm. Everywhere else is so damn cold, I swear."

Once Hosea's hands were free, he quietly brought a chair over from the dining table, careful not to scrape the legs against the ground, and sat down beside the couch. "I promise, you'll feel better in no time."

"Until then, we'll both be right here." Dutch gave Arthur's back a pet. "I also brought in some food if anyone gets hungry. There's meat and some canned food. Oh, and I brought you both your books."

Arthur couldn't help but light up a little at the sight of the book he'd been reading. The pages were a little old and the book itself was worn, but he loved it nonetheless, and didn't hesitate to take it with his free hand when Dutch held it out to him.

"Thank you."

Dutch simply smiled. "Let us know if there's anything else we can get you. Would you like something warmer than that coat you got on? I think I have something you can use."

Arthur responded with a small head shake, his head falling back against the couch the moment he felt his muscles giving out on him. "This one is fine."

"We really need to look at getting you one of your own. I still don't know why we haven't already."

"I don't need new clothes," Arthur grumbled, almost shielding Hosea's jacket from him by wrapping his arms around himself and pulling the sleeves over his palms. "I like this one."

"Perhaps I'll buy myself a new coat and you can have my old one, then." Hosea couldn't help but smile a little when Arthur hummed at the offer, burying his face in the collar of the jacket for a short moment before bringing the cup of tea in his hands to his lips. "Until then, I have no problem sharing."

"Until It's me you're sharing with," Dutch grumbled, and Hosea immediately shot him a look, ignoring the way Dutch scrunched up his nose in a teasing way. "I was there when he first got that coat, you know, Arthur. He threatened to punch me if I ever touched it without his permission."

"The only reason I had to get a new one to begin with was because you ripped my old one beyond repair," Hosea rolled his eyes.

Arthur couldn't help but watch in silence and chuckle on occasions as he watched them bicker with each other. Dutch was clearly the more childish of the two, throwing half-assed insults Hosea's way and watching as the older man gestured back at him confusedly.

"That doesn't even make sense."

"You don't make sense!"

After a while, the boy began to feel his exhaustion creeping up on him. Though he tried his absolute hardest to fight it, he eventually found himself slowly drifting in and out of consciousness, the only sounds able to be heard being Dutch and Hosea's voices, the rain and the fire still going strong in front of him.

It was the most peaceful he'd felt in months, if he was being honest. Particularly when Hosea gingerly began to trail his fingers through the boy's hair in a soothing motion, the sight of him finally falling asleep being enough to cause both their voices to lower into hushed tones instead.

"Perhaps It's time for bed."

Dutch hummed. "I think that's a good idea. Are you okay to carry him?"

"'course. You go on ahead, I'll be there in a moment."

Once Dutch had left for the bedroom, Hosea gently took Arthur's empty cup from him and placed it down on the coffee table before crouching down by his side. Upon resting his hand on the boy's forehead, he sighed a little in realising that his fever hadn't gone down much, if at all.

With very careful movements, Hosea managed to scoop Arthur up into his arms without jostling him to much. It wasn't until he began to head for the bedroom that the boy's eyes flickered open for a moment, only to fall shut again not long after, content enough with being carried.

Dutch was already climbing into bed when Hosea wandered inside. His gunbelt had been tossed carelessly on the floor beside the bed, his guns nowhere in sight. Presumably, they'd been placed somewhere safe, either under his pillow or in a nearby drawer. Hosea didn't think too much about it as he gingerly placed the boy down where it was comfortable. Arthur seemed to awaken at the lack of warmth close to him.

"Here," Hosea murmured, holding out a hand to the boy. "Give me everything you don't want to wear and I'll put it aside for you."

Begrudgingly, Arthur moved just enough to undo his belt and vest. Once they were off, Hosea took them and placed it all with his own stuff before climbing under the covers as well. Thankfully, the bed was surprisingly big, so it was easy for the three of them to lie comfortably with a decent amount of space between them.

Both Dutch and Hosea decided against falling asleep just yet, though Arthur was out to it within five minutes of lying still. Instead, they both sat up on either side of the boy's smaller body, their books open and the lamp on Hosea's side still on for light.

Neither of them could really remember the last time they'd spent the night with a roof over their head. Hosea knew Arthur hadn't been with them at the time. It wasn't often that they felt the need to find shelter, even with the various days of unpleasant weather they'd had over the years. They were content enough with what they had.

Over the course of half an hour or so, Arthur had begun to gravitate towards Hosea in his sleep, much to both his and Dutch's surprise. Before too long, he was fully pressed up against the eldest man's side, his face hidden away against his neck and the sleeve of the coat covering his mouth. Dutch couldn't help but smile as soon as he saw, particularly when he noticed Hosea hugging him back, placing his book down in his lap to run his fingers through the boy's messy hair.

"Can't imagine you saw your life turning out like this."

Hosea found himself chuckling at the comment, the rumbling of his chest causing Arthur to stir for just a moment before drifting right back to sleep. "No," he murmured. "There's a lot of things I never imagined happening."

"Are you happy?"

The very question caused the older man to smile, and he gave a small nod as the palm of his hand drifted up and down Arthur's back. "Very."

"Good. I'm happy, too."

Dutch's hand came to rest on Arthur's upper side as he leaned down to press his lips to both their foreheads. Arthur didn't react, though the eldest man offered a warm smile in return, his free hand coming to rest on the back of Arthur's head as he slowly started to drift off, too.

"Sleep well, Hosea."

#rdr #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr2 #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #vandermatthews

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rowanaelinn · 3 years ago

Text

Kinktober - Day Three (thigh riding)

“You’re drunk,” Rowan stated, holding Aelin by the hips as she straddled him. He was sitting on a couch, not the most comfortable one but it’ll have to do the trick.

Aelin only laughed, reaching for another kiss. Rowan had been looking so hot all night long, his hair perfectly done and freshly cut, his three-piece suit hugging his muscles, the sleeve of the white shirt transparent enough to give a hint of his tattoo. Her boyfriend always looked good, and maybe it was either the adrenaline from the team’s win still in her veins or the alcohol, but Aelin had decided tonight would be the night.

Tonight, Aelin would sleep with her boyfriend.

They had hated each other from the first time they met. He was too broody for her, and she was too careless for him. No matter that he was the captain of the national football team, Aelin had never thought of him as more than a pain in the ass.

But after two years of banter and hatred, they had started getting along, and slowly, their friendship turned into more.

They had been dating for a month now but hadn’t done more than kissing because Rowan didn’t want to ruin things. He wanted them to take their time. Aelin found it stupid but had agreed because that’s was Rowan wanted.

But she was done with the waiting now, she had her most beautiful green (Rowan’s favorite color) lacy underwear under her dress. Even if they hadn’t done more than kissing didn’t mean they hadn’t talked about it.

During one of their long session of sexting, Rowan had confided in her he had never been more turned on than when she had put on one of her golden dresses, something about the short skirt. Aelin kept that information in the back of her mind for the perfect moment, for tonight. So sure, the dress was longer than what she was used to, but still short enough to be to her and his liking, because she didn’t want to embarrass him when this party was entirely for work, but it was still gold and it showed her breast in the best way possible.

She had been so stressed out about this, about what he would think of her, that her best friend Lysandra helped her by talking to her and giving her drinks.

“Thanks for the information, Captain Obvious,” she murmured on his lips.

Rowan snorted at her. “You’re impossible.”

He kissed her again, opening his mouth to let their tongue play lazily together. Slowly, Aelin’s hips began to roll, causing friction for both of them. Lorcan had been nice enough to subtly tell her this room was never used, winking at her and murmuring something that sounded a lot like you need to get laid.

Her hands grabbed his hair, pulling at it, tearing a groan out of his perfect lips. “Rowan…” She moans, the friction doing wonder for her.

“Aelin,” he said, voice small. She thought he was moaning, but when he repeated her name in a stronger way and his hands came to her hips, stopping her movement, she knew she had been very wrong.

She frowned and he looked apologetic. “What is it?”

“Stop this. Don’t start something you won’t finish,” he told her without any bite in his voice. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“But I want to finish.”

“I don’t.” He said and it was like a cold shower for her. Is that why he wanted to wait? Because he didn’t want her? “Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not having my first time with you while you’re so drunk you didn’t walk straight when you walked here.”

She wanted to tell him she wasn’t that drunk, but it would be a lie. Lysandra had given her a lot to drink and very fast. “But I’m okay with it.”

“Yeah, even if I believed that, which I don’t until you tell me this sober, I still wouldn’t want our first time to be with a half-asleep Aelin.”

She groaned, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. She wanted to cry, she was so turned on. She didn’t feel like she wanted to release, she needed it. Rolling her hips against him, feeling his hardened length, she cried out. “I’m so needy, Rowan.”

He took her head between his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Is that true?” The look of hunger in his eyes did nothing to calm down the heat polling at her core. She nodded, earning half a smile from him. “Then allow me to help you,” He said. “With clothes on,” he clarified at the look of ecstasy on her face.

A frown. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer, he only roamed his hands on her body until he reached her hips. He grabbed her and he parted his legs so she was straddling only one of them. And then, he made her move on his thigh.

“Oh fuck,” she swore loudly. Rowan only chuckled, taking the hem of her dress and pulling it around her waist so the only barrier between their bodies was her panties and his pants.

His lips crashed onto hers as his hands came to rest on her ass, making her hips roll on his thigh, causing friction.

“You gotta be quiet for me, angel.” He murmured on her lips. She nodded emergently, everything he wanted as long as he kept doing this.

Soon enough, her hips made the movement by themselves but that didn’t stop Rowan from helping her. “That’s it, take what you want,” he told her as she went faster. His words urged her on even more.

“Keep,” she moaned as one of Rowan’s hands gripped one of her breasts over the fabric of her dress. “Keep talking to me.”

“Yeah?” He asked, voice full of pride. “You like it when I talk to you, baby?”

“Oh gods,” she tried to muffle her moan in his shoulder. She nodded strongly, losing her mind over the pressure on both her clit and breast.

“I thought about fucking you all day long,” he admitted, pinching her covered nipple between two of his fingers. “When I was on the field and I needed motivation I thought about what your pretty cunt would feel like around my cock.”

“Fuck!” She whined, her hips going at a tremendous pace.

“I wondered if you were the loud type or quieter, I guess I have my answer now.” He chuckled, his tongue tracing the shape of her ear. Oh gods, oh rutting gods.

“Rowan.”

“What is it, baby, you gonna come for me?” He asked and she didn’t trust her voice so she only nodded. “Oh good girl, come on me. Soak my pants, Aelin.”

She had no sense of self as she kept rubbing herself, not aware of anything else than her pleasure. When Rowan bit at her neck, murmuring words of encouragement on her skin, something snapped in her. Thankfully he had fast reflexes, his hand slapping over her mouth, blocking out as much sound as possible. “Good girl,” Rowan praised her as he made her keep moving on him, prolonging her orgasm. “You look so fucking good.”

Both of them chuckled lightly as Aelin came down from her high, both their head resting on each other’s shoulders while they rubbed the other’s back.

“Is that gonna be enough for you, your highness?” He asked.

She made a humming sound. “I don’t know.”

He laughed, kissing her neck. “You’re insatiable.”

He kissed her cheek and made her stand, replacing her dress exactly the way it was. “We have to come out, I have to charm some sponsors before the party ends.” He informed her before leaning into her, his hot breath tickling her skin. “But I can’t wait for you to be sober tomorrow morning, just so I can fuck you and finally find out what this cunt feels like coming around me.”

He winked at her before getting out of the room as if nothing had happened. She hated him so much.

——————

taglist: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin smut #kinktober

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komotionlessqueenmm · 4 years ago

Text

Imagine # 731

Words - 1,768

Gif NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If this gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2021

Warnings - Smut.

----

"You know what you gotta do man, you gotta just go up to her, you know, and you gotta just." Jordan smacked his hands together dramatically, pointing to his sister who was across the way laughing with a friend. "I don't know man." Brad took a long drag of his cigarette, staring at (Y/n). "Are you kidding me?" Jordan laughed while smacking Brad's shoulder dramatically, making Brad laugh a little. "I mean look at her. That woman is a fucking Goddess among men." Brad exclaimed making Jordan laugh. "Come on man, she'll adore you." Jordan reasoned before hollering to his sister. "(Y/n)!" She turned her attention to her older brother upon hearing her name. "Come here." He waved her over, smiling when she complied. "Come on man." Brad chuckled bitterly shaking his head. "What can I do for you Jordan?" (Y/n) rested her hand on her hip, the sun behind her giving her an angelic glow in her white bikini, with gold chains adorning her curves. "I'll tell you what you can do for me, you can park your pretty little ass on my friend here's face and give him the ride of his life." Jordan laughed when she rolled her eyes at him. "Fucking hell." Brad hissed under his breath, thinking she'd never give him the time of day now. To his surprise however she moved to stand in front of him, looking him over before taking a seat across his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oh hey there." He murmured with a grin tugging at his lips. "Is that what you want baby? You want me to sit on your face?" (Y/n) asked sweetly while tracing his jaw with her fingers. "More than anything." Brad admitted, ignoring the excited laughter coming from Jordan. "Well you'll have to work for it handsome, because unlike my brother will have you believing, I'm not a slut." She hissed the last word before standing from Brad's lap, strutting away with more sway in her hips than usual. "She likes you, normally she'd have tried killin' us both for a comment like that." Jordan smiled at his friend, who looked almost crushed. "She doesn't even know who I am." Brad frowned before taking a heavy drag of his cigarette. "Oh she knows who you are, she asks about you everytime she sees you." Jordan laughed as he lit himself a new cigarette.

---A few hours later---

Walking upstairs Brad rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "Where you off to cowboy?" (Y/n)'s voice sliced through the music filled air with ease. "Looking for a vacant bathroom." Brad smiled with a chuckle. "Come with me, I've got a room here with a private bathroom." She waved for him to follow, her crimson gown hypnotizing Brad as he followed her closely. "Lock and key." She held up a small key before unlocking her rooms door. "Smart." Brad chuckled as he followed her into the room. "Nice room." He commented as he looked over the extravagant room. "Yeah Jordan likes spoiling me." (Y/n) sighed with boredom. "You don't like being spoiled?" Brad asked with a playful glint in his eyes. "I like being spoiled, but I wanna be spoiled by my man, not my brother." (Y/n) explained with a small grin. "So what your man broke?" Brad asked a little worried she was taken. "Gotta have a man first sweetie, the bathrooms over there." (Y/n) pointed to the bathroom, Brad grinned as he walked to the bathroom, pleased to know she was single.

When Brad exited the bathroom he froze in his tracks, watching as (Y/n) unzipped her gown, letting it to pool at her feet. "So Brad tell me, do you want me to give you the ride of your life?" (Y/n) kept her back to him, teasing him with her black lace bra and pantie set. "Fuck yes." Brad breathed out licking his lips. "I don't do this normally, but I've been watching you for some time now. And I'm so sexually frustrated right now, I don't wanna wait until date four." (Y/n) explained, beckoning him to her. "I won't think any less of you angle." Brad promised as he took ahold of her hips. "Good." She smiled before pulling him down for a heated kiss, moaning into his mouth when he squeezed her ass firmly. "Now get your ass on the bed handsome." She murmured as they pulled apart, playfully smacking his ass. "Yes ma'am." Brad smiled before doing as she said, making himself comfortable on her king size bed. "Remove that pesky shirt of yours for me." (Y/n) insisted as she crawled onto the bed, straddling Brad's thick thighs. Quickly Brad sat up and stripped himself of his shirt, making (Y/n) giggle softly, finding his eagerness incredibly hot. "Mmm look at that." (Y/n) hummed as she stroked her hands up and down his firm chest. "I can't wait to see what you've got waiting for me in here." She mused as she unbuckled his pants. "I thought you were gonna feed me." Brad smiled up at her. "Oh I will, but I'm gonna have some fun first." (Y/n) smiled as she pulled his rock hard cock out of his pants. "Fuck that's beautiful." She murmured at the sight of him, licking her lips as she began stroking him slowly. "I'm glad you like him." Brad sighed heavily when she started dragging her tongue up the underside of his cock. "He's perfect." She smiled up at him before taking him into her mouth, and easing him down her throat slowly. "Fuck." Brad hissed, his head falling back into the pillows. "Just like that baby." Brad praised her, tangling his fingers into her hair. "Fuck you're so hot." Brad continued, as (Y/n) bobbed her head along his shaft. With a moan she eased him out of her mouth, releasing the head of his cock with an audible pop. "Delicious." She winked before climbing up the rest of his body, hovering her cunt right over his face. "Ready for me baby?" She looked down at him, wiggling her hips, teasing him. "I'm starving." Brad growled as he pulled her hips down, licking and nipping at her clothed pussy feverishly. "Ah!" (Y/n) cried out followed my a long moan. "More Brad please." She whined with need, laughing with excitement when he proceeded to tear her panties apart. "Fuck yes!" She bucked her hips as he began feasting on her, leaning forward she began kissing and licking along Brad's stomach, inching closer and closer to his cock. Greedily Brad pushed his tongue deep into her needy cunt, this goatee rubbing against her clit deliciously. "God yes!" (Y/n) cried out blissfully, kissing sloppily along his throbbing shaft. Brad growled against her soaked folds, as she began sucking him off again. (Y/n) bucked her hips softly as her orgasm approached quickly, moaning against his cock as he sent her over the edge.

Pulling him out of her mouth (Y/n) began rocking her hips, drawing out her high as Brad continued to feast on her. "FUCK!" She cried out, the muscles in her stomach contracting almost painfully as he lapped at her overstimulated cunt. "Brad!" She cried resting her hands against his hips, she applied most of her weight forward, attempting to pull away from the greedy man. Brad growled as he took a tight hold of her hips, pulling her back into place as he continued to eat her out. "Oh god I can't!" She cried out as a second orgasm washed over her without warning. "Ah!" She practically screamed as the most intense orgasm surged through her body. "(Y/n) are you okay?" Jordan barged into her room, quickly closing the door when he realized what he was looking at. "Oh my god." (Y/n) panted heavily while Brad licked at her lazily. "Oh my god." She repeated softly when Brad released her hips, allowing her to crawl away. "Holy fuck." She chuckled breathily, as Brad pulled her to lay back, swapping places with her, he made himself comfortable between her legs. "How was that angel?" Brad asked as he brushed back her hair. "I can't feel my legs." She giggled pulling him down for a kiss, moaning when he began sinking his cock into her still aching cunt. "Think you can cum one more time for me angel?" Brad asked as he bottomed out in her. "I'll cum as many times as you want me to daddy." She grinned up at him, the nickname sparking a fire within Brad. "Good girl." He growled as he began thrusting into her vigorously, causing the headboard to bang against the wall with each powerful thrust. "Fuck yes daddy!" (Y/n) cried out, clawing at Brads back, encouraging him to fuck her a bit faster. The bed squeaked, the headboard banged against the wall, (Y/n) was a moaning mess, along with Brands grunting and the obscene sound of his balls slapping against (Y/n)'s ass filled the room. "Shit!" Brad growled as he buried his face into (Y/n)'s neck biting at her skin, as he hiked her legs up onto his hips, allowing him to fuck into her even deeper. "Brad!" (Y/n) chanted his name like a prayer, over and over his name passed her lips, fueling his desire to fill her with his seed. "Don't stop." She begged before pulling him into a needy kiss, thrusting her hips up to meet his erratic thrusts in perfect tune. "Cum for me angel." Brad panted against her lips, as her cunt began constricting his throbbing cock. "Yes daddy." She huffed in pure ecstasy, her eyes rolling back as she came for the third time that night. "Just like that baby." Brad groaned as he to came undone, pumping his seed deep into her womb. "Fuck yes." He panted has he continued rutting into her, wanting to pump every last drop into her. "I should have jumped your bones sooner." (Y/n) panted with a chuckle, sighing when Brad pulled out of her and laid beside her. "You're mine now angel." Brad stated as he pulled her to lay against his chest. "Yes daddy." She smiled up at him, giggling when he playfully spanked her ass. "I'm gonna make sure you can't walk tomorrow." Brad warned as he pulled her into a kiss, kneading her ass in his hand. "Good." She hummed against his lips, the both of them grinning like sinners.

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zayneternal · 3 years ago

Text

《 Halloween in June 》

summary ↠ It’s been 6 months since you and Taehyung have made it official, and it’s been nothing but sarcastic roast sessions and the occasional binge of Criminal Minds on Netflix, but for the last of those glorious months, a rather strange arrival has made himself known to the closing baristas at your place of work. Which brings you to the newly normalized routine of your closing shifts: the weird guy (who wears demon horns?) is seen stalking the outside of the shop again, Taehyung specifically asks you not to work the shift alone, and you do exactly what you always do...work the shift alone.

genre ↠ angsty angst ooO

member ↠ kim taehyung

warnings ↠ physical violence | stalking

word count ↠ 5.1k

moodboard credit to @jiminspjm

"Don’t close by yourself tonight,Y/N. I mean it.”

The words of your boyfriend, Taehyung, sternly imparted by soft lips against your temple while you’d prepared to leave for work earlier today, are still ringing painfully around between your ears as you directly disobey him. You watch the new barista, whom you’ve just excused from the gruesomely slow shift, gather her belongings, clock out, and disappear into the caramelized evening with a resounding jangle of the door chimes.

Arching away the guilty prickles that slowly inch up your spine at the knowledge of what you’ve just done, you sigh inwardly, pursing your lips as you traipse back behind the bar to finish up the last of the menial cleaning tasks. Taehyung is fully aware of your nasty habit to send home the newer baristas a little early on particularly slow nights like this one which is exactly why he’s been blowing up your phone since you arrived, making calls every hour that you’ve been declining in the name of “busyness”, but really, you know that hearing his voice will only make you feel worse about sending Jess home when he specifically told you not to. If it weren’t so furiously endearing and didn’t make you feel a kind of protected that you’d never let him know you felt, you might think Taehyung was being a little more overbearing than he is.

Despite Taehyung’s wishes, there’s really no point to having two people on the clock when there have only been three customers in the last hour--one of which being the regular that resides in the back corner working on the next great American novel that he’s had half finished for about two years now. You and Jess, even with her distracted habits and scatterbrained nature, got miles ahead on the closing list, leaving you very little to do besides counting the money drawer, cleaning out the espresso ports, and locking up at the end of the night.

You regret these bulleted thoughts when a sharp buzz begins smarting against the glass at the top of the pastry case, your phone screen lighting up to reveal a candid frame of Taehyung’s squinted smile, his name shining like a beacon across the top. Even after half a year of that picture present in your phone, the reminder that the man whose image it bears is the one calling you still sends your nerves blazing--a fact you’ve had to endure Taehyung teasing you about on numerous occasions (though he would admit to the same).

Gripping your phone in your palm to cease the outright noise, you clench your jaw in preparation, letting your thumb hover over the green phone icon so long you have to rush to press down before the call times out.

“Hello?” you breathe into the receiver, the muffled sound of a Seinfeld rerun playing on the mounted TV above the coffee bar.

“Y/N! Hey,” Taehyung’s rasped resonance hurries back, slightly airy as if he’d been holding his breath before you answered. “How are things going? Is everything good there? I haven’t been able to get a hold of you all night.”

You sigh again, running a hand through the haphazardness of your hair as you lean against the pastry case, holding the phone closer to your ear. “I know, I’m sorry. Me and Jess were swamped trying to get ahead on the cleaning while we had time.” There is only a small bit of solace you find knowing it’s more of an omission than a lie.

“Swamped?” he repeats, voice almost unreadable. “Huh, well that’s nice. Every shift I worked last week totaled maybe 10 customers.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight. “Yeah, business isn’t the same in the summer,” you sigh, deftly avoiding the truth of your customer count.

“Quite the bummer,” Taehyung speaks in that way he does when he’s waiting for a laugh. One you can’t help but give if for no other reason than how stupid it was.

“Lame,” you chuckle, finding the feeling of the smile tugging against your lips rejuvenating.

“How’s Jess doing?” Taehyung’s next question sends your grin running back to its hiding place with its tail between its legs. You’d have to tread carefully.

“She’s...” you begin, trying your hardest to sound casual. “Ya know, good.”

Nailed it.

“Good? Hasn’t run the espresso machine without the espresso yet? Dropped any open milk jugs?”

You’re trying to read his tone, but he sounds naive to your “omissions” so far. “Nope, no messes, broken machinery, or third degree burns to speak of yet.”

He huffs idly. “It’s only a matter of time. I’ll make sure to warn her about the christening the espresso machine likes to give newcomers when I work with her next week.”

You manage to quirk a grin as you settle into the conversation. “I’m sure she’d be grateful to hear that from you.” It was no secret that Jess had a certain affinity for Tae and his boyish charm, always dropping soapy dishes and fumbling with change when he would walk into the shop. It was somewhat endearing.

“Hmm,” he hums idly before saying something that shoots an arrow into your stomach. “Why don’t you just give her the phone for a sec, and I’ll tell her now? No time like the present.”

Your muscles tense and eyes close, slowly recognizing the familiar color to his voice. He also dons it when he’s asking if you ate the leftovers that no one else but you and he have access to.

“How’d you know?” you breathe, defeated, lifting a hand to your face.

“You didn’t brag about how much more tip money you’re bringing home with all this ‘business’ you have,” he responds casually, and you can’t tell if you’re in trouble yet or not. “You never miss a chance to be the breadwinner.”

You chuckle lightly, cautiously, breath tense for the moments that follow. “I thought you might be...ya know, mad if I told you I was closing alone.”

“Again,” he corrects. “Closing alone again.”

“Again...” you amend, feeling like a child on the other side of a pointed finger. You might’ve been upset, annoyed, that Taehyung is parenting you if you hadn’t been the instigator, knowing exactly how to avoid his gentle wrath and still choosing to step in its way.

You hear an exasperated sigh seep through the phone, and you can almost see him, eyes closed, locks shaking back and forth, nose bridge pinched between his pointer and thumb. “Y/N,” he breathes. “Are you actively trying to make my hair fall out? Cause it sure feels that way. You can’t see, but I’m holding a few shiny, very luxuriously conditioned locks in my hand right now. They should not be in my hand right now.”

You know he’s scolding you, but his personality washes through the receiver and makes you smile--something you try to hide in your tone lest he turn into more of your father. “I promise your balding is the farthest thing from a priority, Tae.”

“Then why, why, do you insist on blatantly ignoring me every single time?” In the background of the call, you hear the soft click of a door being shut. The jangle of keys.

“Taehyung, please tell me you are not leaving the apartment right now.” You say instead of answering him, your own eyes closing.

“My hair is falling out, and you’re upset that I’m coming to see you? Your priorities really are out of whack.”

You sigh and laugh in tandem, your neck almost hurting as it tries to decide which side to commit to. Annoyed or humored. “Of course I’m not upset that you’re coming to see me. I just wish it wasn’t because you think I can’t handle myself by myself.” You begin idly tracing the frame of the register next to you, twisting the key in the cash drawer back and forth.

Another creak as Taehyung pushes through the front door of your apartment building, the sounds of passing cars whooshing through the background as he begins the trek further downtown. “Y/N, I promise I believe you are fully capable of handling yourself. It’s just with everything that’s been happening there lately...that maniac...” He trails off, breath tight. “Just humor me. I’m protective.”

You breathe slowly before answering with half a mind to roll your eyes at the fact that you almost did want to humor him. The maverick inside you fights lazily with your secret desire to be sheltered. Instead of giving in outright, you glance at the clock and make your escape for the time being with a curt, “I’ve gotta lock up. See you soon.”

You end the call and replace your phone on the counter, moving to inform the great American author in the back that it was closing time. He gathers his things quickly, looking slightly deflated at whatever progress he had or hadn’t made during his time here, and disappears into the blackening night. With an empty store and slight prickle of annoyance rumbling in your stomach, you flip the locks closed on the front door, swiftly turn up the chairs onto the tables, and clean the final espresso port before clocking out.

Taehyung still isn’t here, but you aren’t surprised. Your apartment is a twenty minute walk from the shop and you’ve spent all of ten finishing up the quick close.

You gather your things in your arms and stand by the front window, taking only a moment to decide that you will meet Taehyung halfway home instead of sitting like a duck in the dark and empty space, knowing that your maverick is winning the fight now and you want to leave if for no other reason than to show Taehyung you really could handle yourself by yourself.

You take a step, backing away from the window with pursed lips. It isn’t even the length of an inhale after you turn your back, however, before a loud and raucous slam resounds throughout the shop. You freeze mid-step, shoulders tensing immediately and eyes wide as you slowly shift your gaze behind you, already knowing what you will find when it arrives.

There he is.

Party City devil horns pointed high. Halloween makeup smudged and unnerving across his wild face. Palms planted flat and tense against the thick glass of the window.

No one knows where he came from or why, only that a few weeks ago he made a claim on main street. A demon in human form hellbent on terrorizing the small businesses littering the downtown area in the dead of night. Somehow he was in perfect sync with the closing schedules, choosing the nights when you least expected him to appear without a warning to make himself very known and frighten the living fuck out of the witnesses.

He hasn’t hurt anyone...yet...mostly because everyone so far has been smart enough to stay out of his way. Make it home before he showed up, if you were lucky, or stay in a pair or group which he tended to keep his distance from for whatever reason. Everyone so far except for you. Of course.

Realizing you are still frozen and freaked, you turn your eyes to the basement door that you had been heading for in the first place--a less conspicuous way to exit and the way you had been hoping to take to avoid him altogether. He hasn’t shown up at all the last few closes you’ve done alone, and most of his appearances--besides the first time almost a month ago--you’ve only heard about from coworkers. Maybe that’s why the healthy dose of fear you are supposed to have was nowhere to be found tonight.

It sure as hell is here now. Too little too late.

All of a second has passed since you glanced away, but with a swift look back, your eyes come up empty of all things frightening which somehow frightens you all the more. Your breath quickens. Your saliva dries, sticking as you attempt to swallow without success.

“Ok, Y/N,” you self soothe, the weak sound you hear squeak from you not in the least bit convincing. “No need to freak out. You’re gonna be just fine. Composure. Composure.”

You swallow thickly once more and stand up straight. Maybe he’s gone? Maybe your presence is of no interest to him tonight? You try to assure yourself of these things as you slide to the basement door, glancing over your shoulder every other beat because of course you aren’t convinced. Is the basement the safest way? What if he’s waiting down there? What if that’s what he wants you think so you’ll walk right out the front door instead? Is it better to just stay put? Can he get inside?

Deciding it’s less likely he knows about the back exit and feeling too frazzled to stay, you hurry on. The sweat lacing your palm as it clamps around the brass door handle is thick, sliding somewhat as you turn and tug it open, closing it just as swiftly behind you. In the dimly light stairwell, you feel only slightly consoled.

It’s with haste now that you descend the rickety old wood and stumble across the dank room towards the hidden alley door, grappling with the key in your purse all the while in preparation for your speedy retreat. Taehyung has to be close -- and then a spike of fear because Taehyung is outside with him.

The basement door is opened and then closed, ushering you outside within the same moment, and as you shove the key into the lock, you fumble with your phone in your free hand, your nerves making it doubly hard to unlock it and redial your most recent contact.

“Hey, I’m almost there,” he answers immediately, sounding annoyingly clueless to the danger he so adamantly warned against. You feel almost hypocritical as you interrupt his, “Just another minute or-”

“Tae, turn around, please,” you hiss intensely, your eyes wild around you as you creep down the narrow alleyway, not sure if you should feel protected or trapped yet.

“Turn around? But I’m almost--” He pauses, confused. “Y/N what’s going on? Did you leave? Please tell me you’re still inside.”

“I-I-” you stutter, questioning if you want to explain your reasoning in this current moment. You are almost to the end of the ally and then it would be brightly lit streets and witnesses. Almost there.

“I’ll defend myself later,” you urge, realizing you are whispering. “Just turn around, please. I’ll meet you at the apartment.” You shake your head at yourself, upset for a random moment that you are so affected just by the sight of this human apparition. He hasn’t hurt anyone, you remind yourself.

And then suddenly you are on the ground, your phone scattering a few feet away from you. The muffled electronic questions of Taehyung are thin and blurry in the background. You realize your vision is swimming and lift a hand to your forehead where it comes away red and sticky, shining in your fuzzy view. The asphalt had hit you hard. Confusion quickly gives way to concern and then terror as you roll to your side, head pounding. The first clear thing that enters your vision is the double point of a pair of horns leering over you.

You think you scream, but can’t be sure. The sound melts into the night, as if it never happened, leaving you even more petrified than you thought possible. Voiceless.

You feel so helpless, bleary and bleeding, underneath the shadow of this terror, his face illuminated in the most horrifying of ways as the moonlight stripes over his dark and dreary makeup, lighting up half of his sickeningly joyed smile with flashes of silver fire.

Another silent scream.

He’s standing over your lower half, nothing in his hands to indicate he’d been the one to cause your stumble. Maybe one clumsy moment of fear has fated you to this. No one to blame but yourself.

He leans down, and your heart stops for a moment making breathing impossible. You try to discern if the liquid you feel on your cheek is a stream of thick tears or the blood from your forehead streaking down. Neither bring you any form of comfort or distraction from the hell spawn closing in on you. He speaks no words with the part of his sinister smile, just a ravenous snarl followed by a hyena-like chortle that tells you, “I’m having fun. Are you?”

You feel yourself attempt to move away from him, your palms scratching desperately against the black pavement beneath you, cutting and clawing your skin with a welcome pain that tries to convince you you have a chance. Only you don’t and he is on top of you again, this time reaching out, his grin deepening as his ink stained hands spread around your forearm, tugging hard.

You yelp, audibly this time, gathering just enough breath to plead, “No,” as the grimy feeling of his fingers spreads along your arm like poison. This only seems to please him further as he grips harder, pain igniting beneath his touch.

And in that moment, a moment that feels like eternity in slow motion, you want nothing more than to apologize to Taehyung. To tell him he was right and you’re sorry and you miss him and need him and want to be protected and will tell your maverick to move out for good if it means this second of pure terror will end. You close your eyes, certain now that the liquid on your cheeks is both blood and tears. Please let it end.

And it does.

The pain blooming along your arm subsides. The searing presence of him overtop of you is removed. You can breathe. You can move. You grasp at your chest, sucking in air like you’ve never drank a breath in your life. It’s only after multiple deep gulps of oxygen that the blurry noise in the background races to the forefront, clear and alarming.

“You fucking bastard! You sick fuck, don’t touch her!” Taehyung’s voice echos sharp and furious in your ears, and your eyes fly open to drink in the scene. He’s grappling with the demon, rolling him over as the devil fights with the growls and snarls of a wild animal, biting and gnashing his fangless teeth at Taehyung’s face before his hands are pinned on either side of him. The control only lasts a moment, though, as Tae’s anger gets the best of him and he releases one of his hands to throw a few heavy fisted punches against his target’s jaw.

The horned man’s head thrashes to the side with the force of the impact, and you know you should feel assuaged somewhat by the karma being dealt, but the way the man laughs through the pain puts your nerves on ice. You scrabble away in a moment of clarity and urgency towards your discarded phone, a slim crack racing along the screen. You fumble once more to unlock the device.

“911, what’s your emergency?” A calm voice questions in response to your dial, the juxtaposition almost enraging against the scene you’re helplessly witnessing.

“My boyfriend!” you cry. “He’s--the other man jumped me and--please help, I don’t know how long he can keep him down!”

“Please slow down, ma’am,” the voice urges, only a fraction more concerned than before. You have to remind yourself that it’s their job to stay calm when the other end of their line is anything but. “Where are you now?”

“Alley!” you answer desperately. “The alley behind the shops on main street! Please hurry!”

In front of you, where your eyes are still glued, Taehyung is flung to the side with a zealous convulsion from the demon beneath him. He smacks into the brick wall next to their writhing tussle with an oof before the man is clambering onto him like a beast, his face bruised and bloodied by Taehyung’s fists. Vengeful.

A shriek rips through you and the phone drops to the ground just as the 911 operator is mollifying, “Help is on the--”

“Taehyung!” you wrack, your head empty of anything but the sight of him bracing futilely against the claws the man is using to slash across Taehyung’s forearms and face. He is trying with everything in him to buck the devil from his chest, but he has him pinned good and shows no signs of relenting, practically foaming at the mouth with unfettered hate. And that face...the evil. The rage.

You don’t think. You don’t question your next move. You’re suddenly casting yourself from where you’d been crumpled on the asphalt, a shout that could’ve come from anyone but you tearing through your throat as you launch across the space between you and your attacker. Your hands feel the tattered fabric of the demon’s jacket before your brain catches up to you, nails digging into the flesh beneath it and you yank.

A confused grunt escapes who is now your victim as he topples backwards and away from Taehyung. “Get OFF!” you seethe, furious, terrified, and aflame with adrenaline as you tug with the strength of ten of you and slam the unaware man into the pavement. You give him no moment of respite before you’re the one in control, pinning his arms down with the weight of your knees and laying into him with all you’ve got. Your nails are just as effective as his were against Tae, if not more-so. Blood is slick in the gashes you leave against his cheeks, neck, collarbones, blazing red against his ruined makeup. The facade of the maniac is crumbling beneath you.

You see the wild anger give way to what resembles fear as he slowly realizes the mistake he has made. At least he’s sane enough for that.

Deep moans of anguish and pleading are flowing from him now, still no words, but you don’t need them to know you’re inflicting pain. Well deserved.

“Y/N! Y/N that’s enough!” Taehyung’s voice seeps into your red rage fueled tunnel, a light at the end that you’re not ready to reach. You feel the weight of his arms wrap themselves around your midsection, pulling with a force you can’t combat before you’re unfastened from the devil. He remains grounded. He doesn’t move to run or escape, instead rolling over with another moan as he covers his bleeding face with his hands. One of his horns has detached beside him. In the near distance, you register the sound of sirens.

“You got him, Y/N, you got him,” Tae hushes into your ear, still holding you tight against him. It’s not until he speaks that you realize you are still struggling to free yourself and return to your karmic retribution. “Relax, Y/N, we’re ok. You got him.”

It’s then that you hear yourself crying, your cheeks now completely doused in the sweat and tears of the passed moment. You’re shaking against Tae’s chest, and as he finally sets your feet back on the ground, you crumple in his arms, all the adrenaline rushing out of you quicker than you can adjust to. He catches you deftly, holding you upright as he turns you into him, hiding your face in the joint of his neck and shoulder as he sways back and forth, ushering a calming pattern against your back.

“The cops are here, Y/N,” he whispers, alerting you to the red and blue lights swimming a few yards away and the sound of car doors popping open. Questions shout their way down the alley towards you, but you don’t hear anything but noise. You breathe Taehyung’s scent in for all it’s worth.

“He’s right here, officer!” Tae speaks for you both, calling towards the coming aid. The sound of clattering footsteps rushes past you, and you hear the echoed moans of the man become more desperate as he’s lifted off the ground and cuffed with a comforting click before the horrid sound disappears away down the alley and into the back of a car. It’s not until that car has pulled away and sped off, your nightmare with it, that Taehyung gently pulls back, his hands coming to cup your trembling jaw. He lowers himself to look into your eyes with intense concern, searching you. The red and blue lights of the remaining cop car flash methodically behind him, and you can feel the lingering presence of another officer nearby, waiting to question you, you’re certain.

“You okay?” Tae softens. His thumb brushes your cheek.

“I will be,” you assure him with some semblance of a smile. “You?” With a sense of normalcy returning to you, you bring your own hand to ghost against the scratch marks left in the perfect skin of his face. Taehyung tries not to flinch against the sting. You’re only pacified knowing you did much worse. “Look what he did to you...”

He mirrors your soft smile of reassurance. “I’ll be okay. It beats going bald.”

You’re surprised that you laugh, given the circumstances, but you’re grateful for it. The sound feels like a weight rolling away. You lift your hand further to tousle his very thick and secure locks. Taehyung sighs against your fingers. “Can we go home now?”

____________

“Ow.”

“Oh, sorry,” you smile apologetically as you dab the cotton ball softer against Taehyung’s skin. His eyes are closed, palms resting against your thighs as you both sit criss-cross-apple-sauce on the floor of your apartment bathroom. You’ve been tending to each other’s wounds for the past half hour after arriving home, but with every pat pat pat of rubbing alcohol and Neosporin across marred skin, you’re hit with a wash of guilt that began bubbling in your stomach the moment that cop car drove away.

You clear your throat and the lump in it. “Um, Tae...thanks again for dealing with the police afterwards.” You’ve thanked him five times already, but you can’t seem to satiate the guilty conscience living it up in your gut. “I don’t think I would’ve spoken coherently if I’d tried.”

He doesn’t call you out on the fifth repeat. He just sighs softly and smiles against your gentle cotton touch. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’m just glad you’re ok. Seeing you in that alley when I got there...” He trails and his smile tenses before he shakes it off, not wanting to add anymore weight to the night. “Well...it could’ve been a lot worse.” His hand tightens around the flesh of your thigh.

Your careful trail across his face slows to a stop. Taehyung opens his eyes to question you only to find your gaze fixed over a spot on the floor, eyes clouded.

“Y/N...” he whispers, reaching for your face.

“I’m sorry,” you rush, pushing his hand away. He stares at you, confused, hand frozen in midair. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” The lump in your throat won’t be swallowed away this time.

“Y/N, don’t--”

“No, Taehyung, it is,” You urge, your voice tightening as the prickle of heat ignites behind your eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong.” The warmth wells the more you try to contain it behind the brazen tone of your voice. “If I had just fucking listened to you, we wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor wiping blood off of each other’s faces. If I wasn’t so goddamn stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to cut into a lunatic in a middle of an alleyway. Tell me that’s not my fault, Taehyung.” There is no hope of hiding the tears now as they bubble and boil over and down your cheeks, stinging all over again. You’ve had enough crying for a lifetime tonight. “You can’t. You can’t tell me it’s not my fault because every time I look at your face--” You clasp his jaw between shaking hands. “--I know it is.”

You bite your trembling lower lip and let go of him, pressing the heel of your palms against your burning eyes. You want to hide, disappear, get swallowed up in this moment, almost ashamed to be sitting in front of him so freely. You want him to at least get mad at you. You deserve something.

Instead of any of that, though, you feel the warm and soothing trace of Taehyung’s fingers bloom around your wrists, peeling them away with gentle force until your rash red face, swollen with cuts and tears and splotches, is revealed to him. He takes both of your hands into one of his, his free palm coming to wipe away the waterfall streaming across your skin, and you can do nothing but squeeze the warmth of him like any second it’s going to disappear. Maybe that’s exactly what you deserve after what you caused tonight. The thought of it shreds you.

“Y/N,” he calls, and you meet his eyes for the first time, a fresh flow of waterworks exploding when you see the utterly pure sincerity he wears in his gaze. “Listen to me very carefully.” He leans forward, tugging you along until your foreheads rest gently together, his hand trailing to the back of your neck where he holds you secure. It’s still not close enough.

“Was a single decision tonight made with any intention of purposefully putting someone in danger?”

The question gives you pause. You weren’t expecting it. “...No.”

“Then nothing--not a single thing--that happened to either of us was anyone’s fault. Do you hear me? You did nothing wrong.” His voice is like honey in your ears, his soft conviction so mesmerizing, you want to believe him. “Even had I known what would happen...I would’ve done it all over again for you. Never question that.”

You cry softly as you stare at him, utterly speechless as to how you deserved someone so full of kindness and goodwill. You don’t know if you’ll ever figure that one out.

He tips his head forward and attaches his lips to yours in a slow kiss, the feeling of it sending a wave of total calm and reassurance through you. When he pulls away, he pulls you with him until you are cradled against his chest, his legs walled around your form as you rock back and forth on the bathroom floor, surrounded by discarded cotton and open tubes of Neosporin.

“I love you,” you hear yourself whisper against him.

A content sigh from above you precedes lingering lips atop your head. “I love you,” he agrees. “More than you know.”

Through the fading sting of tears and freshly healing wounds, you really do believe him. And no amount of worry-fueled balding or strong-willed stubbornness will change that.

___________

ok, before you say, “devil horned man? really?” which many of you MAY HAVE already done I PROMISE YOU this plot was inspired by very true events at a very real job i had a while back, LEGIT someone like this exists, and i just ran with what I was given, ok thank yew.

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