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mxltifxnd0m · 5 months ago

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heat wave ࿔ s. winchester

summary: heat waves suck in the bunker

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader

word count: 1.7K

warnings: no use of y/n, not beta'd, fluff, complaining about heat, nudity, suggestive content, one or two dirty jokes

a/n: i made a post about complaining about this heat wave that is happening in my area and decided to write about it. this was intended to be a blurb but it spiraled out of my control LMAO

(also i haven't posted this frequently in like... ever LOL. so please say thank you to sam winchester for being my muse)

please reblog and lmk your thoughts and opinions!! i wanna hear what you guys thought about the fic!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You hated the heat. Nope. Scratch that you loathed the heat. Despite growing up in hotter climates, you never grew to like the heat. You can tolerate it, but you've always preferred the colder months, where you can layer all you want and get warm and cozy.

But with summer, there was so much you could wear until you were almost naked.

The bunker could only do much to keep out the heat during the summer and keep the heat in when winter rolled around. An unexpected heat wave hit Lebanon, and since the bunker didn't have any AC or windows, it was practically hell on earth in the bunker.

Sam and Dean were out on a hunt, and you were stuck in the bunker due to having a nasty run-in with a witch that left you concussed and bruised ribs. They said the hunt was a quick salt and burn a state over, so they would be back in a few days. But in the few days they were gone, the heat became almost unbearable.

You spent the past few days stripped down to a bra and the shortest PJ shorts you had. You would have strolled around the bunker naked, but you were a little paranoid that Sam and Dean would come home early, and you didn't want to give Dean a free show. The amount of water that you had drunk could be considered criminal, but you managed to sweat most of it.

You even went out and bought multiple box fans for the library, war room, kitchen, and your bedroom (To hell with your boyfriend and Dean's bedroom. They could buy a fan for themselves.) because you could barely stand the stifling heat that managed to worm its way into the bunker.

The heat had gotten to the point where you were sprawled out on your back, starfish styled on the cool tiles of the shower room. This was your only saving grace in this place (and taking cold showers right before you went to sleep). When the tiles below you would get warm and sticky, you would just shuffle (drag) your body slightly to another patch of cold tiles.

You were so focused on cooling down your hot body that you didn't hear Sam calling for you when he couldn't find you in your room. He and Dean eventually found you on the shower floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean's voice echoed off of the shower room walls.

"Finding reprieve from this god-awful heat." You sat up on your elbows to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway, uncaring of your state of undress. Being a hunter and getting injured in inconvenient places had left you topless in front of the boys plenty of times and vice versa, so it left no room for modesty.

"This bunker doesn't have any AC or windows, and this heat wave has been terrible. You guys need to fix that." You said before sliding back down and moving to a patch of cool tile.

Sam's chuckling made you smile despite the heat. "Considering this bunker was built in the 30s, they didn't exactly have to worry about heat waves or AC."

Your smile dropped as you scowled at Sam's words. "I hate global warming. Also, how are the two of you not sweating your balls off yet?" You had noticed that they were wearing their flannels.

"We just got back and spent the past 10 minutes trying to find you. Safe to say we haven't spent much time in the bunker to feel the heat."

"Well, you're about to Deanie-boy, be prepared to strip." You went to take a sip of water from the bottle you had brought with you, only to find that it was empty.

"You would love to see that wouldn't you."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before." You said before getting up from the floor with a slight groan.

"Besides, I'd prefer to see a strip tease from a different Winchester." You winked at Sam as you walked in between the boys, giving his ass a quick tap as you left the shower room and headed toward the kitchen to refill your water bottle.

About two and a half hours later, the heat had gotten to the boys, and they were stripped down to their boxers, trying to survive. Dean ended up stealing one of the fans you bought and stashed it in his room, but even then, the fans were just blowing around the warm air that was in the bunker.

When it came time to eat dinner, you guys quickly got dressed because none of you wanted to spend another second in the hot bunker. The cool night air was like a healing balm over the heat wave as you guys found a diner that also had outside seating. After you guys were done eating, Dean drove the three of you around for a while with the windows down in the Impala, not wanting to go back to the stifling hot bunker.

You guys got back home at eleven o'clock, and the temperature in the bunker got significantly better, but it was still uncomfortably warm. You all headed to different bathrooms to shower off the stickiness that the three of you were already feeling.

You took your time in the cold water, not wanting to leave it just yet, but you eventually left the shower once your skin acclimated to the water and started to feel warm to you. You wrapped yourself in a towel and made your way to your room.

Once you made it to your room, you turned on your fan, cranked it to the highest setting, and dropped your towel. You didn't bother with any clothes or getting under the covers because you would throw them off of yourself the second you started to sweat. You crawled on top of your covers and rested your back against your headboard. You wanted to read a bit before you went to bed, so you grabbed your Kindle off of your nightstand and began to read.

About fifteen minutes later, you got a knock on your door. "Babe?" Sam's voice was muffled by the thick door.

"You can come in." You tell him, not looking away from your Kindle.

You heard the door open, and that's when you looked up at Sam entering your room. You caught his surprised expression as he took in your nude form and quickly shut the door. You saw lust flashing through his hazel eyes as his gaze traveled up and down your body.

Sam cleared his throat as he kept his eyes trained on yours. Ever the gentleman. You thought as you smirked at his reaction.

"Did you need something?" You asked, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend as you placed the Kindle in your lap. Your eyes also wandered up and down Sam's bare torso as he was only in his boxers. His anti-possession tattoo stood out against his tan chest and was littered with scars that had faded with time.

You saw Sam swallow thickly as his eyes flickered from your chest to your eyes. "I was wondering why you weren't in our room?"

It was technically Sam's room before you moved into it. After a couple of months of dating, you found yourself sleeping in his room more often than your own when you initially moved into the bunker.

"As much as I love you, Sammy, I cannot sleep with you during this heat wave."

Sam frowned slightly as he made his way to your bed and sat on the edge of it. "Why not?"

You scoffed. "Because you're practically a human furnace, and as nice as it is sleeping with you during the winter, I just know I'll be soaked just sharing a bed with you."

A dirty smirk wormed its way onto Sam's face as his warm palm landed on your ankle and slowly trailed up your leg. "I'm glad I have that effect on you, but I already knew that."

You narrowed your eyes at him as you wriggled your leg away from Sam's grasp. "Ha, ha, you're so funny." You deadpan. "But I'm being serious. You radiate heat, which isn't fun when we're trying to survive a heat wave."

Sam started to pout at you. "But babe-"

"Nope. Not hearing it." You cut him off and shook your head at him as you moved your Kindle to your nightstand. "You're sleeping in your bed alone until this heat wave is over."

"Now, go back to your room." You gestured to your door.

A small huff left Sam as he got up from your bed. "Fine, but at least give me a goodnight kiss."

You rolled your eyes slightly. "Get over here, you big baby." Sam moved to the side you were lying on and bent down to kiss you.

You intended the kiss to be chaste, but Sam (being the little shit he is) had other ideas. He grabbed both of your cheeks with his hands and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

It was unexpected, but you melted into the kiss as your hands instinctively went to his chest. He tasted like mint and something that you could only describe as Sam. Sam swiped at the seam of your lips, and that is what broke you from your Sam-induced haze.

You pushed him away from you and glared at him lightly. Sam just had a cheeky grin on his face.

"Nice try, now go to bed."

Sam still had a grin on his face as he bent down again and kissed your forehead.

"Goodnight, baby," He murmured softly against your forehead before pulling away.

"Goodnight, Sammy," You said with a soft smile as he left your room.

You turned to your nightstand and turned off the lamp that illuminated your room. Your room was engulfed in darkness as you shuffled further down your bed until your head hit the pillows. You fell asleep as your fan blew cool air towards your bed.

Little did you know, Sam ended up sneaking into your room once you were asleep and woke up in the morning soaked in sweat and having a moose of a boyfriend wrapped around your sweat-slicked body.

It's safe to say that you gave Sam a very rude awakening that morning.

#daisy writes #this was birthed bc i love sammy and my hatred for the heat LOL #sam winchester #sammy my boy #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem reader #sam winchester x fem! reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester imagine #supernatural #spn #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic

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homunculus-argument · 7 months ago

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What are your favourite animals that sound like the most absolute medieval bestiary beasts, but are actually 100% just fucking real? I'll start, with the hammerhead worm:

'tis a beast that is shaped like a hammer, but which moves like a worm. Wherever it is an invasive species, it must be killed on sight, as it will eat all normal worms and ruin the soil. They eat each other also, if nothing else is available. Do not cut one in half, as it only becomes two hammerhead worms. Every particle of it must be destroyed, lest it regrows itself from the remnants. To do so, kill it with fire or dissolve it in salt and vinegar.

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sencrose · 5 months ago

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— COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS, I’LL COUNT MY SINS

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

tags: DUBCON, coercion/heavy manipulation, stalking by proxy, fingering, cunnilingus, breeding, power imbalance, reader can see curses but is not a sorcerer/curse user, one mention of making reader into a mother lol

wc: 4.9k

a/n: idk what to say lol this has been in my drafts for 3 years and i’ve been working on it on and off since ‘21 so if the writing style feels all over the place it’s because it is. ao3 link here

summary: suguru usually doesn't pay any mind non-sorcerers, but when he realizes you can see the cursed spirit wrapped around him, his interest is piqued. he'll bring you to him, using less than savory methods.

To no one’s surprise, Suguru Geto, the most wanted curse user in Jujutsu society, is not a big fan of outings. Especially those in Tokyo. Then again, he promised the girls that he would take them on a day out. Nanako and Mimiko being the trendy teens they are, insisted on a day in the city. So he finds himself in some trendy cafe with overpriced drinks and photogenic food. The girls are excited of course, saying it’s something they’ve been eyeing out on Instagram for the past few months.

As soon as he steps into the cafe, he’s greeted with the sickly-sweet aroma of baked goods wafting through the air. It’s decadent and overwhelming, as if the simple act of inhaling will coat the back of his throat with syrup. It’s safe to say he won’t be ordering anything for himself but a black coffee. The walls are a rosy pink, decorated with frames of dried flowers and neon light fixtures of faux-inspirational quotes. The glass case at the front of the store has various arrays of grandiose drinks and picture-perfect desserts on display.

While the girls are dressed for the occasion, Suguru sticks out like a sore thumb in his casual attire of a loose t-shirt and jeans. He could have dressed up a bit more, but something about matching outfits with a dessert he’s not going to order doesn’t sit right with him. More importantly, the thing that sticks out most about him isn’t his outfit or the lack of photos he’s taking on his phone; it’s the unsightly worm sitting around his shoulder.

It’s for protection. Any regular citizen won’t be able to see it and if he were to be spotted by a sorcerer, it’s good to have a weapon on hand.

As he waits at a table with the girls, he can’t help but notice someone staring at him. Upon another glance, your stare isn’t necessarily aimed at him, but the creature on his shoulder. An alarm in his head is ringing, but he maintains his cool composure, not wanting to worry the girls. He can never be too careful. It may have been nearly a decade since he’s been cast aside by Jujutsu society, but he still has a death warrant above his head.

There are three options. First, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer sent to kill him. You haven’t made a move or shown any signs of calling for help, so he could rule that out. Second, you’re a curse user. Then again, you haven’t hidden your gaze. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He can feel your eyes burn a hole into his shoulder. Any curse user worth their salt wouldn’t be so obvious. So that leaves the last option: you’re an unfortunate civilian who was born with the ability to see cursed spirits. It may be a curse to some, but to Suguru’s eyes, this was a blessing. An opportunity.

He should be disgusted with this intrigue; you aren’t a sorcerer after all. But this is different.

Your lingering stare has nothing to do with his status as one of the most despicable sorcerers of all time, nor does it have anything to do with the false religion he runs. It has everything to do with the deformed worm wrapped around him. Suguru excuses himself from the table, as he makes his way towards you. His steps are careful, calculated, with his shoes gently tapping against the linoleum floor.

“Is something the matter?” He wears a smile on his face, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, feigning politeness. His sudden question causes you to jump, briefly taking you out of your staring contest with the creature wrapped around him.

“N-no, sorry.” You can’t bear to look him in the eye, your gaze going back and forth between the worm on his shoulder and the half-eaten dessert on your plate.

“Is there something on my shoulder?” He looks past the creature resting so casually on him. You immediately ball your hands into fists, knuckles white with how tight you’re squeezing. Regret blooms in your chest, your heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your ears. You never should have looked in his direction.

“No, I’m just… just spacing out a little. My bad.” you lie through your teeth, hoping the explanation is enough for him to leave you alone.

“No, my apologies. Enjoy your meal.” he leaves it at that, offering a wave as he walks away.

He walks back to his table with his hands in his pockets, an air of nonchalance to him. He leaves you alone, for now. That doesn’t stop him from stealing a look or two on occasion. He finds it cute, how flustered you get when your eyes match his for a split second. He can see your heart skip a beat when your body jolts a bit out of your seat.

You remind him of a helpless rabbit, the way your hand slightly trembles as you bring up your fork for a bite of your pastry. He ponders the idea of taking you apart, piece by piece, savoring your pleas and cries as if they’re part of a decadent three course meal.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he takes a sip of his black coffee, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

Maybe the girls could use a mother.

—

You’re used to strange sights every now and then. It’s something nobody around you ever seemed to understand, dismissing your long-winded descriptions of horrors as an overactive imagination. You’ve since given up on explaining your visions to others, but they haven’t given up on you.

They sit on people’s shoulders, hover around their heads, and stare into your soul, as if they’re aware that their existence is a dirty little secret kept between the two of you.

Over the years, you’ve learned that the easiest way to deal with them is to treat them like an unsightly drunk: leave them alone and you’ll be left alone. Do not, under any circumstances, make eye contact. Do not acknowledge its existence no matter how scared you are. Of course, you’re not perfect; sometimes you see something so strange you can’t help but look. Especially as of late, it’s been becoming more and more difficult to hold yourself to your self-imposed standards.

It started with a small beige creature, with unsightly bulging eyes and translucent wings. It followed you everywhere, wings humming incessantly in your ear as it hovered around your shoulder. It eventually left after you refused to give it any attention, only to return with a swarm of its friends. Silence was a rarity. The noise only got louder as night approached, depriving you of a good night’s sleep.

It would be one thing if it ended there, but it only seemed to get worse as time passed by. If it wasn’t the constant buzzing, it’d be the strange things you’d find in front of your apartment door. Another deformed and wretched looking creature, sitting innocently on your welcome mat as if it has every right to be there. It burns a hole into your chest with its stare, presenting an toothy grin as it looks up to you.

By the time morning comes, it’s gone, leaving a single note in its place. It’s neatly folded in half, crisp black ink displaying a message that raises more questions than answers.

“Doesn’t it get tiring seeing them all the time? It’s only going to get worse the longer you wait. Why don’t you help me help you?”

Reading the note only adds to your sleep-deprived headache and dwelling on it isn’t going to make it better. Your eyes pass over the neat handwriting a few times before you fold it back up and leave it on your desk.

Truth be told, running on fumes for the last couple of weeks has taken a toll on you. You’ve fumbled simple tasks you’ve never messed up before; dropping items while restocking, giving the wrong amount of change, handing over the wrong pack of smokes. It doesn’t help that your manager is quick to reprimand you, yelling his head off until his face turns red. There’s no use explaining or drawing up excuses. It’s not like he’d understand. It’s not like anyone would understand.

Your walk home is an exhausting one. Your steps and sighs are heavy, unsure how else you’re supposed to get this pressure off your chest. You would close your eyes for some relief if you weren’t convinced you’d fall asleep while walking.

You can’t help but feel like something is watching you, or worse— following you. It’s different from the winged creatures. There’s no noise to accompany its presence but you can feel it in your bones – in the way your breath hitches, the way you're constantly looking over your shoulder for relief, but relief never comes.

A single street light flickers along the otherwise well lit street. It doesn’t feel right. It feels out of place compared to the rest of the road, but it is your normal walk home, and nothing’s ever gone wrong before.

Yet as you approach the light, the flickering becomes more erratic. It buzzes incessantly, growing louder, louder, nearly trembling until the bulb bursts into pieces.

Even with the absence of one streetlight, it shouldn’t be this dark. The road ahead fades into blackness as you walk forward. The darkness swallows everything whole. You try to walk back from where you came but the road you were walking on just seconds ago, is gone. Your hands tremble as you reach for your phone. You turn on the flashlight in an attempt to see anything. It doesn’t do much to help.

Your heart is starting to race now as you try not to let panic set in. In all your days taking this commute, you’ve never experienced something like this before. Your fingers shake as you attempt to go through your contacts and text your coworker. You’re not too far from the store, they’re probably close by. As your finger presses on the arrow to send the message, a red exclamation point pops next to your text. Unable to send.

Was this always a dead zone?

You take a deep breath but it does little to soothe your nerves. You flash your light forward, attempting to continue your walk home, hoping that you can rest in the comfort of your bed soon. With each step you take, the air becomes uncomfortably cold as it fills your lungs. The darkness seems to be everlasting until you can barely make out a figure in the distance.

The sigh of relief seems to leave your body too soon as you start running towards it, desperate for help only for your steps to diminish upon a closer look.

A woman stands in front of you, long black hair obscuring her face with some features peeking out between the strands. Her smile looks inhuman, jagged sharp fangs unnaturally stretching out her mouth with drool leaking out of the corners. She stands disturbingly still in her disheveled white robe, her left hand bandaged and holding a pair of rusty snips.

“Am I beautiful?” she asks.

You open your mouth to attempt to answer, but fear takes over. It’s as if cotton blooms in your throat, choking you out of a proper response. Your hesitation only agitates her, as the grip around her snips tighten. The moment you’re able to blurt out an answer, the blade flies past you, grazing your cheek to draw blood.

Before you can muster a reaction, the street returns as swiftly as it disappeared, the previously flickering street lamp returned to its former glory. The woman is nowhere to be found, but you can feel the burn from the cut she’s left behind on your face.

The silence cradles you, chills you with its embrace. You turn your head, left, right, take a few steps back before looking around again.

Any idea of a calm walk back is quickly thrown out the window. Desperation and dry air rushes into your lungs, harsh tramps slap against the pavement with a twinge of ache in your knees. Your legs burn as you push them to their absolute limit until you make it back to your apartment, clumsily scrambling through your key ring. You shake as you slam the key into the lock and turn.

As soon as you get inside your apartment, you turn the lock with a heavy clack before collapsing onto the floor. You take a moment to recollect yourself, hand on your chest to steady your heaving as you swallow to alleviate the dryness in your throat.

You jolt back into a panic when the sound of footsteps pass by, stopping right in front of your apartment.

Knock.

Your heart stills as you stare at the door. For a moment you swear it stares back.

Knock.

Time stands still as you hold your breath, desperately hoping that whoever’s outside leaves.

A pen scribbles on your door for a moment, before the crisp sound of paper folding flits past your ears. With a gentle glide, a note slides under your door, landing right at your feet.

“That looks like a rough cut. Are you sure you can keep living like this? What if it only gets worse? Help me help you. I can make them all disappear.” On the back is an address, which upon a quick search, leads to a monastery on the outskirts of Tokyo.

You look back at your door, trembling as you contemplate looking through the peephole.

With the gentlest steps you can muster, you approach the door, pressing your hand against it for balance as you look into the peephole.

Nobody’s there. Still, you tremble.

—

You spend hours scouring the web to find anything about the monastery, which ends up with you on some seedy forums. Other users post about their experiences with spirits possessing them, all healed by a monk who goes by Geto-sama.

“I couldn’t get any sleep for months and Geto-sama healed me in a moment’s time!”

“This spirit was following me for weeks and I thought I was losing my mind. Geto-sama’s the only person who believed me and gave me the help I needed.”

“Geto-sama truly is a saint sent from above. He was kind and reassuring throughout the entire spirit removal process, and it was completely painless. I can finally feel like myself again.”

It’s nothing but pages upon pages of reviews saying how this Geto-sama is a miracle worker, nothing short of a God. The more you read, the more uneasy you feel. It seems too good to be true. You do your best to find something, anything resembling a bad or even neutral review, but your search is fruitless.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the burning desire for a day of peace, but after reading countless testimonials you start to believe he can help you.

Maybe you could be convinced.

—

The heel of your shoes clack louder with each step you take up the stairs leading to the monastery. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you stare at the large wooden doors in front of you. It takes a decent amount of effort to push it open, creaking slightly as it reveals a dimly lit room.

You’re not too sure what to expect of this so-called savior. No matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find any pictures of the man in question. None of the reviews went much into detail about the process, just that all their problems were solved. He is supposedly kind, but it doesn’t seem to dull your nerves as you stand in the dark room.

You can make out a few things: pale bamboo flooring, intricate latticework windows with dark mahogany accents, and a man wearing a Buddhist robe standing at the back of the room.

He steps towards you, his face becoming clearer as he gets closer.

“What brings you here, little one?”

You know why you’re here, but the words dissipate in your throat as it sinks in that you recognize this man. The memory rushes back into your head; the cafe, the strange worm, his confrontation, the stolen glances.

Your mind races a million miles a minute, your heart beating a little harder, a little faster. Every nerve in your body is telling you to run but fear keeps you frozen. You’re barely able to mutter a weak plea,

“P-please don’t hurt me.”

Gentle fingertips hold your chin, tilting your head up to face him.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to save you.” His thumb delicately brushes against your bottom lip as he repeats himself. “Now tell me, why are you trembling so much?” Your lip quivers as he tilts your chin to meet his gaze.

“Y-You. You’re the one that sent them after me, aren’t you? You’ve been leaving those notes at my door. I-I don’t know how but-”

He interrupts you with a melodramatic sigh.

“And what if I did?” A ball forms in your throat as you struggle to string your thoughts into cohesive sentences, only able to let out a meek,

“Why?” Your body trembles as you take a step back.

“Why not?” he retorts with a sly smile that sends a chill down your spine.

“W-what do you want?” You take long steps back until your body is pressed against the door. Geto follows, making slow strides until he’s right in front of you. He’s so close you can see the rise and fall of his chest, the individual strands of obsidian that frame his face.

You try to open the door but it’s locked shut. He slowly steps towards you, your back pressing against the door.

His expression shifts, looking displeased as you struggle to escape.

“Are you leaving now?” He asks in a tone that is clearly meant to mock you, pouting his lips to feign concern. He grabs your hand as you continue your failed attempts to pull the door open. “And what are you going to do when you get home?”

He doesn’t need to hear your answer; he can see it written on your face as your eyes shift between him and the grip on your wrist. A mix of uncertainty, fear, and helplessness. He knows he holds all the power. Who’s going to believe you? Who else can you turn to?

“Don’t you want to be saved from these evil spirits?” His hand gently caresses your cheek before sliding carefully down your neck.

“Don’t you want to have a full night’s rest?” His hand continues to wander down, his arm wrapping around your waist. His face gets dangerously close to your face before he whispers, “To not live in fear?”

His gaze holds you still. When you can find it in yourself to look away, his hand holds your chin and forces your eyes to meet his. You shouldn’t be here – a realization you’ve made far too late. Like a snake wrapping around his prey, you’re well into his trap, ripe for the taking. There is no escape. So with a tightness in your chest, and a tremble in your voice, you let out a soft,

“Y-yes.”

“Then help me,” His fingers grab onto the zipper of your skirt before pulling it down, “help you.”

His hand slips into your underwear, slowly stroking your folds before drawing languid circles on your clit.

You try to push him away, grab his arm to move him off of you, which only causes him to tease you more. There’s nowhere to escape with Geto imposing his body onto yours, pushing you further against the wall.

“Just take what I give you and I can make them all go away.” The warmth of his breath lingers by your ear. Tension builds in your chest as you grow unsure of what to do, but there is one thing you are sure of.

You’re tired of fighting, tired of persevering.

Your grip on his arm loosens, which he takes as an answer.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” He looks pleased with himself, looking through you with heavy lidded eyes.

His hand moves painfully slow, his fingers occasionally slipping into your hole just to slide back out. Your legs squeeze together at the intrusion, your breaths becoming labored the more he plays with your cunt. A soft moan escapes you, and Geto perks up upon hearing.

“Oh?” His lips form a devilish grin before slipping his fingers in all the way. “Let me hear more of you.”

He scissors his fingers inside you, his thumb reaching to play with your clit. The stretch drives you insane as you lean your head back to let out a shaky moan. He slowly starts to pump his fingers inside, lewd sounds of his fingers pumping your wet cunt echoing in the empty room.

You hate how good it feels. His fingers reach places you never could, fill you up more, and hit that special spot that has you seeing stars with startling accuracy. You cover your mouth with your hand, embarrassed at the obscene noises escaping you only for Geto to move it away.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I want to hear more of your cute voice.” He looks into your eyes with a piercing gaze before picking up the pace. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but Geto’s hand grips your cheeks before turning your head to face him.

The debauched expression on your face sends blood flowing to his cock. He wants to see more: your face contorting from pleasure, the bounce of your tits as he fucks you, his cum leaking out of your poor quivering hole. Just the thought is enough to drive him crazy. His other hand makes its way to your clit, drawing tight circles. You can’t hold back your moans, the tension in your core building as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

“G-Geto-sama!” Your hands clench into the fabric of his robe, desperate for balance as your orgasm washes over your body.

“That’s more like it.”

Once his fingers are out of you, you slide against the wall before dropping onto the floor. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest; you’re not sure if you can take any more.

“There’s more work to be done.” Geto smirks as he looks at his hands, admiring the way your arousal glistens on his fingers.

He slides the top of his robe off his shoulders, revealing his toned arms and hints of a chiseled body. His hands press on your inner thighs to spread your legs before him. Heat rushes to your face as you try to close them shut, only for him to spread them apart further.

“Don’t be shy.”

With the grace, or lack of, that’s unbecoming of a monk, he buries his face into your cunt. His tongue feels foreign as he licks your folds before making his way to your clit. Unlike the cool and composed air he had when he was fingering you, the way he eats you out is primal. It’s filthy, how he spits on your cunt before going back in with a grin on his face.

Your back arches off the floor as he continues, tension building in your stomach with each passing moment. His hands spread your folds apart as he gets a better look at your cunt before twirling his tongue around your clit.

Your hand hesitantly hovers over his head before his hand grasps yours and presses it against his head.

“Eager now, are we?” He laps at your juices before pressing a finger into your hole, achingly slow.

Your labored breaths become soft moans as he indulges further. His tongue makes lewd noises as he traces your folds before sucking on your clit. Tension builds in your core as he gradually picks up the pace, his fingers going faster and hitting deeper, his tongue drawing tighter circles.

“G-Geto-sama, please I’m getting close!”

He abruptly pulls away, heavy breaths escaping him as he wipes the mixture of your arousal and his spit off his face with his sleeve.

“Then beg.”

“H-huh?” His response sends blood rushing to your face, your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

His fingers tease your hole, shallowly inserting one in before removing it. He’s agonizingly slow and he knows it’s driving you crazy. He takes great pleasure in seeing the embarrassment strung across your face.

“G-Geto-sama… Please, please-”

“Please…?”

“Let me cum.” you whimper pathetically, attempting to rut your hips against his hands for some much needed release.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He takes his hand away from your body, staring you down with a smile.

“P-please let me cum!” The words slide off your tongue with ease this time around, desperation riddling your voice.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The sound of shifting fabric fills your ears as he removes the rest of his garments and tosses them off to the side.

Nothing could have prepared you to see his body in its entirety. His robes did him a disservice, hiding his toned muscles, slightly glistening with a sheen of sweat. Your eyes trail over his stomach, wandering lower until they reach the base of his cock. A chill crawls up your spine, trying to fathom how something so large is going inside of you.

He catches your expression as his hand wraps around his cock, giving it a couple of pumps before lining it up with your hole.

“Don’t be scared, little one. I promise you’ll feel good soon.” It enters you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You’ve never felt this full, there’s no way your toys could ever compare to the real thing. The size, the warmth, the way it throbs inside you.

Geto lets out a breathy groan once he bottoms out. Your walls wrap around him so tightly, as if your body is begging him to cum inside you.

It takes every ounce of self control in his body to not rut into you at a dizzying pace. He wants to savor this, building you up only to have you fall apart in his arms. The desire to ruin you, to keep you wrapped around his finger burns hot in his chest. He steels himself before starting with slow strokes, his breathing labored.

His hands reach for your blouse, ripping the buttons off their threads as they scatter across the floor. Deft fingers make their way to your bra, tugging down to reveal your chest. His hands are warm, almost like they’re melting into your skin as he plays with your breasts, fingers drawing circles around your nipples. Your moans only get louder as he continues to explore your body. His fingers pinch your nipples and an involuntary squeal escapes your lips.

He leans in towards your ear before slyly whispering, “You need to be louder if you wish to be saved.”

You don’t have a chance to respond as he rams his hips into you, striking a spot that has you seeing stars. His pace is relentless, heat building in your stomach with each stroke. It’s hard to form any cohesive thoughts, much less sentences, when you’re chasing a high on his cock.

“Work harder for your salvation, little one.” he teases.

And you do.

You moan his name like a mantra, press your hips harder into him, chasing your own high. You bring him into an embrace, your nails scratching his back as an offering.

“You’re holding me so tight- it’s like you want to bear my child.”

“W-wait-” Panic strikes your chest but Geto strikes his hips harder into you, cutting you off.

“Is that what you want?” he coos, gently tracing your jaw with the back of his hand before tilting your chin to face him. “That’s why you came here, right?”

You want to say no, that you came here to stop being haunted by spirits, but every part of your body is melting in pleasure, screaming yes. It’s impossible to even articulate an answer, your mouth only speaking in slurred moans and pants.

The sound of your moans is music to his ears. His lips press against your neck before biting down, earning a yelp from you in surprise.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want.” he whispers in your ear, his hips striking into you harder.

“W-wait, Geto-sama, please!” you attempt to plead, only to sound more like a sultry moan.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he groans into your ear.

His dizzying pace is hard to resist, as you feel yourself getting close. With a few more thrusts you feel your walls clamp around him, waves of ecstasy washing over your body. Geto follows soon after with a choked moan, warmth filling your insides.

Geto removes himself from you shortly after, admiring the way his seed leaks from your hole.

As he revels in the mess he’s made of you, he’s already conjuring up plans to bring you back to him. How should he torture you next? What pathetic expression will you wear when you seek his help?

You’ll be back soon enough. He’ll make sure of it.

#jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #suguru geto x reader smut #suguru geto smut #geto smut #sen writes #sen fics #s.jjk #cw.dubcon #cw.stalking

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 months ago

Text

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 8: She's The Salt Of The Earth And She's Dangerous]

A/N: Be sure to vote in the poll pinned to the top of my blog AFTER you finish reading!!! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace (again).

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “She's A Rebel” by Green Day.

Word count: 7.4k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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“I’m sorry if I was a creep when we first met,” Aegon says. He’s been oddly philosophical since he was burned. “I hadn’t seen a hot single chick in a while, and I wanted to fuck you.”

Cregan siphoned just enough gas from a decrepit Chrysler Sebring in Merna to take the Tahoe two and a half hours west to Little Thunder Bay Campground on the shores of Lake McConaughy, a manmade reservoir and New Deal project from the 1930s. You glance over at Aegon dubiously, amused. “Do I count as hot?”

“Yeah, Chippendales, you’re hot. In like a…you live in a cabin and knit sweaters by a crackling fireplace kind of way.”

You smile. “So you got over that.”

“Oh no, I still want to fuck you. Now I just know you better, so I wouldn’t want to offend you by being obnoxious about it.”

“That’s sweet, I guess. I appreciate your discretion.”

“No problem. If you ever decide you want to take a ride on a less distinguished Targaryen brother, let me know.”

The two of you are fishing from a boat launch, dry splintering planks of wood, opaque rippling water, soft wind and bright sunshine from an aquamarine, cloudless sky. Cregan found the fishing poles in the abandoned RV you’ve moved into, a Winnebago Spirit with one of those stick figure family decals on the back window, Mom, Dad, four lovely children and a dog too, all of whom are perhaps alive but more likely dead and in any case nowhere to be found here in this tranquil corner of western Nebraska, 150 miles from the Wyoming border. Helaena digs worms from the earth, then Rhaena slices them into wriggling segments with a hunting knife and brings them to you and Aegon to be impaled on barbed hooks. Aemond, Rio, Daeron, Luke, and Cregan are swimming about twenty yards down the beach, soaked boxer shorts and nothing else, splashing each other and scrubbing the grime off their skin from a morning spent gathering wood for the firepit and the grill; Ice is paddling joyfully alongside them. Baela floats on her back and peers vacantly up into the vast blue nothingness. Aegon is not permitted in the water, as his leg is an open wound beneath his bandages. You ask him as you recast your fishing line: “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

You shrug, smirking guiltily. You thought it was obvious.

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, slow and lazy. “Oh, I get it. A loser.”

“I didn’t say loser.”

“You thought loser.”

“I implied loser.”

“It’s alright. I’ve been called worse things by people I admire much less.” He contemplates his answer as he gazes down into the water, sluggish stoned reverie. Aemond must be almost out of morphine by now. At last Aegon says: “I think the first thing I ever learned was that no matter how hard I tried, no one was ever going to love me. Not in a normal kind of way, Disney movie love, Christmas rom-com love. So I stopped trying. Mother wanted me to play piano, so I bombed the recital. Father wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, so I skipped class, went golfing and yachting, didn’t even bother to pay someone to write halfway decent essays for me. If they couldn’t love me unconditionally, I wasn’t interested in meeting their conditions.” Then he chuckles, the breeze combing through his hair, ninety degrees and only getting hotter. “I refused to work. All you’ve ever done is work. You must hate me.”

“No, I get it.” You reel in your line; a fish has stolen the worm from your hook, tiny clandestine nibbles. You impale a slimy new victim and recast. “No one wants to be used.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I wasn’t going to spend my life doing shit I didn’t want to do so my parents could brag about me to their insufferable friends and absolve themselves of their mistakes. Mother married a man who didn’t give a fuck about her, Father ignored us all. Me being a success story would have given them the impression they did something right. I couldn’t have that.”

So Aemond had to be the success story instead. You glance down the beach at where he is bursting through the water and slicking back his dripping hair from his face, showing Luke a bone he found in the muddy silt of Lake McConaughy, hopefully not human.

Aegon follows your eyeline. “Aemond went the other way, I guess. Always so pathetically desperate for their approval. Scrabbling for crumbs of it like a rat. That’s what the thing with Alys was all about, it’s the only explanation I have. Older woman, surrogate mother, comforting but chilly, fawning but forbidden, always keeping him at an arm’s length and rewarding his tricks with treats.” He smirks flirtatiously, then sees that he’s hurt you. “Oh, um, I mean…look, it wasn’t…it wasn’t a good thing, you know? He wasn’t happy. It was a seven-year-long psychotic episode, not a relationship.”

“You mentioned that Criston likes Aemond,” you say, pivoting. “The…what is he? A family friend, an assistant?”

“My mother’s personal security guard. And yeah, he cares about Aemond. He’s proud of him, he trust him, he thinks he’s more capable than any of the rest of us, and that’s probably true. It’s definitely true compared to me. But that doesn’t mean Criston always knows how to express it.”

You look out over the water, trying not to imagine Aemond touching Alys, this woman you hate without knowing her face. You wonder if he ever wishes you were more like her: older, clever, entrancing, masterful. “It must have been a strange way to grow up.”

“Cold,” Aegon says. “Hollow. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, everything. You go through the motions but something’s always missing. When you’re little, you think it’s your fault, and then eventually you realize that they’re going to be miserable whether you’re there or not. But you can get out if you’re willing to run far enough.” He scratches at his forearm, and your eyes catch fleetingly on the black ink of his tattoo: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You had told Rio something similar when you were stranded on that transmission tower in Catawissa, Pennsylvania. “This is fucked up, and I don’t mean that I don’t feel bad about what happened to Jace, and I get that millions of people have died agonizing deaths, and that all sucks, believe me, I know, but this…” He gestures vaguely, to the zombies and the desolation and the collapse of everything you’ve ever known. “It was kind of my Get Out Of Jail Free card. And in a weird way…sometimes I feel like I’ve been happier since the world ended than I ever was before.”

You smile. You know what he means. “Even if your leg gets infected and we have to saw it off without anesthesia like you’re a Civil War soldier?”

Aegon laughs and shakes his head, his hair flopping around. It’s almost long enough for him to have a man bun like Cregan’s if he wanted one “No, probably not. Also, what’s the Civil War?”

“Forget it.”

“No, now I want to know.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Aemond said something interesting this morning while you were picking blackberries with our favorite Trump supporter,” Aegon tells you, salacious and sly, offering a tantalizing morsel he knows you’re powerless to refuse. He pauses and waits for you to admit it to yourself.

“Fine. Okay. What?”

“He said that when you and Cregan are standing next to each other, you look like you belong together.”

You groan, quite loudly. “I have zero interest in Cregan romantically. Literally zero. I don’t think he sees me that way either.”

Aegon shrugs. “The dating pool is awfully small nowadays, Banana Chip. Anyone who’s not a corpse or an immediate blood relative starts to look tasty.”

“So that’s why you like me.”

Aegon grins, teeth he shows often and easily, so unlike Aemond in every way. “No. I think I’d like you anywhere.” He tugs languidly on his fishing pole. “I want a new golf club.” He forgot his at the house in Broken Bow where Jace died.

“We’ll see.”

“I want new shoes too.” One of his Sperry Bahama sneakers was burned beyond repair and filled with shreds of his own singed flesh, scraps like soft bacon fused with the padding and insole. “And some polos.”

“I’m not a Big Lots.”

“Who the fuck shops at Big Lots?” Aegon’s fishing line jerks, and he yanks hard on the pole before reeling in his catch. Suspended at the end is a long green creature, yellowish spots and a villainous angular face. “That is one ugly bitch.”

“It’s a pike,” you say, and then when you grab it you observe that the misfortunate fish has the barb of the hook piercing not through its lip but one of its bulging, glassy eyes. “Oh my God!”

Aegon squeals, horrified. He offers no meaningful assistance. “That’s so gross, that’s so gross, what are we going to do?!”

“We have to, like, I don’t know, grab the back of the hook from inside its mouth and pull it out of the eyeball, I guess…?!”

“Yeah, awesome. Good luck with that.”

You reach tentatively into the pike’s gaping mouth. Its jaws snap shut, needlelike teeth stinging your wrist. “Ow!”

“Cregan!” Aegon bellows. “Cregan, help!”

Now the others are running to the boat launch to see what’s going on, Helaena and Rhaena from the shore, everyone else from the lake, Luke helping Baela wring the water from her sundress and Ice galloping alongside Cregan. He gets a look at the pike and guffaws, loud and rumbling.

“Poor little guy. That’s some bad luck he’s got.”

“Can you get the hook out?” you ask, eager to surrender the fish, which is still thrashing franticly and gnashing its teeth, mindless cold-blooded death throes.

“Of course I can.” Cregan plucks the pike from your grasp, shoves his massive hand into its mouth, and rips the hook out with one effortless maneuver. The pike is freed, but its eyeball remains speared on the hook. Then Cregan spies blood on your wrist. “You okay there, Miss Chips?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“Freaking disgusting, man,” Aegon mutters; he and Rio are ogling the disembodied eyeball, complete with a frayed optic nerve like a tail, with identical, stunned revulsion.

You turn to smile up at Aemond, but he doesn’t notice you. He is staring at Cregan, his sole blue eye narrow and fixed and flat like still water.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The closest town is Ogallala,” Aegon says as he lays his map across the wooden picnic table. The rest of you are seated around him and picking flaky white meat from between the thin, fragile bones of the pike, which Cregan has gutted and cooked on the large metal grill that careless camping families once roasted marshmallows and hotdogs over. Helaena is at the edge of the table and writing in her spider notebook, elegant loops of cursive. Ice is lying on her belly and gnawing on a rabbit she killed for herself, its doomed black eyes gazing up at you.

“That has to be what, ten miles south?” Rio says apprehensively.

Aegon licks grease from his fingers. “Yup. A little more, probably.”

“What about Lemoyne?” Daeron says, pointing. “Or Keystone, or even Belmar? They’re all closer.”

“See how small the names are written?” Aegon tells him. “That means they’re not actual communities. They’re like a few stop signs and maybe a Dollar General and that’s it.”

“I love Dollar General,” Cregan says, nostalgic. “Man, do y’all remember Chicken in a Biskit? I used to park myself in front of the tv and eat boxes and boxes—”

“It has to be Ogallala,” Aemond insists. “We need pharmacies and grocery stores and cars to siphon gas from, we need a real town.”

Rhaena chews her lower lip anxiously. “The Tahoe is empty. We have maybe half a gallon left and that’s it. Just enough to get down to Ogallala if we’re lucky, but not back.”

“So we’ll drive until it dies and then we’ll walk. Cregan has a gas can in the back, if we find fuel we can bring some back to the Tahoe and continue from there.”

“Walk, huh?” Aegon says, looking down at his bandaged left leg, which he can’t put any weight on. He gets around by hopping, leaning against other people (oftentimes against their will), and being carried by Rio.

“Well, you’re not going,” Aemond tells him. “And Baela isn’t either.”

Baela, gazing blankly down at the map, says nothing. A brown striped snake darts through the grass only a few feet from the picnic table, moving swiftly towards the lake, and there are alarmed gasps and yelps.

“Northern water snake,” Helaena says, glancing up from her notebook. “Not venomous.”

“Good,” Rhaena replies with a shudder.

Luke says fearfully as he reads the map: “Aemond, last time we went into a town that big was Broken Bow, and…Jace…the farmhouse…”

Aemond slams his fists down on the table. “We have to, okay? We need food and water. We need bullets. I need more pain meds and bandages for Aegon, I need antiseptic and Neosporin, and Vaseline for when he’s healing, and supplies for when Baela goes into labor too, since I’ve had to use everything I had saved.”

“We need pads and tampons too,” Helaena says as she examines the black-ink inventory in her notebook. “And Advil, lip balm, bars of soap, hair ties, and socks and underwear. And that green jelly aloe vera stuff for Aegon’s sunburn.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Aemond agrees. “We need a lot of things. And we have to refuel so we can keep moving west.”

“We could stay here,” Baela says, so softly that at first you aren’t sure if you heard her right.

“What, Baela?” Rhaena asks gently.

“I want to stay here.” Baela is more resolute now. “I want to have the baby here.”

Nobody knows how to respond. Rio gives you a troubled glance. You nod in agreement, so subtly you doubt anyone else notices. Not an option.

Aemond is calm but unwavering. “Baela, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

She pleads her case. “I like the Winnebago. I like the lake. I’m comfortable here, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I…I think we could make this our home for a while, now that we’ve found someplace like this. Someplace quiet and safe.”

“We’re not safe here, Baela,” Aemond says. “It feels like we’re safe, but we’re not. We aren’t a big enough group to reliably be able to defend ourselves. We don’t have adequate supplies. We have a lake to our backs, sure, but the rest of the shoreline is open for anybody to walk right into, and our visibility is blocked by trees. No one has stumbled across us yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. And if they do we’re extremely vulnerable. But when we get to the west coast, we’ll be home.”

“I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.”

“I understand. I am too.”

“It’s different,” Baela says, abruptly fierce. “You don’t know what this feels like. None of you do. I’ve never given up and I’ve never asked to be taken care of, I’ve always been the strong one, but I’m so goddamn tired, and I want to have my baby here, and I…I…” Her large dark eyes are glistening, haunted. “Every time we’re driving I feel like I see him sitting next to me, or standing out in the middle of the road, and then I have to remember what happened all over again, and…I just…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Rhaena takes Baela’s hands in her own, skims her thumbs across Baela’s knuckles; Luke rubs her back reassuringly. The rest of you can only offer silent, pitying looks. There are no easy answers, no fortuitous gold strikes, no shortcuts. The only way out is through.

“Whatever you guys decide, I’m leaving either way,” Rio says. “Sophie’s waiting for me in Oregon. I can’t just hang out in Nebraska forever. I’ll walk if I have to.”

“It’s over a thousand miles,” Aegon tells him.

“Doesn’t matter, man. I gotta do it.”

You add: “Obviously, I’d have to go with Rio.”

Both Aemond and Aegon appear startled. “We’ll be on the road again soon,” Aemond promises. “Tomorrow, if we can find gas in Ogallala.”

“I’m not going,” Baela whispers.

“We have to, Baela,” Rhaena implores. “It’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you, and the baby too when the time comes.”

Baela stands, strides to the Winnebago, disappears inside and slams the door behind her.

“She’ll be okay,” Rhaena tells the rest of you. “She’s…you know, she’s shaken up. She’s not thinking clearly. But she’ll realize this was the right decision. The only decision, really.”

“It’s best if we can get set up somewhere permanent before she goes into labor,” Aemond says, as if he’s defending himself. “Traveling with a baby…Baela recovering…it would be very dangerous for all of us.”

“Luke and I are thinking the same things, Aemond. We agree with you.”

He gives Rhaena an appreciative smile, very small but sincere. Then he turns to Daeron. “Baela and Aegon will have to wait here when I go south to Ogallala, since they can’t walk in the event the Tahoe runs out of gas. You’re going to stay behind to protect them.”

“Got it,” Daeron says soberly. All the bullets are gone; his compound bow, fed with arrows fashioned from sticks, is the best weapon you have left. Cregan has his axe, Rio still prefers to bash skulls with the butt of his Remington shotgun, everyone else must make do with hunting knives from that cellar back in Pennsylvania and kayak paddles found here at Lake McConaughy.

Aemond looks around the table. “I’ll need Rio, Cregan, and Luke.”

“And our beloved furball Blue Raspberry Icee,” Aegon says, smirking. “To sniff out any zombies.”

“Yes. Ice too.”

“What about me?” you say, staring incredulously at Aemond.

“Not you. You’re staying here in the RV.”

“If you and Rio are going, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not,” Aemond says. “You’re the best shot, and we all agree about that, but we’re fresh out of bullets. You therefore have no advantage tactically.”

“What’s Luke’s advantage?”

There are awkward chuckles. Aemond leaves the picnic table and gestures for you to follow him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why?”

Aemond doesn’t answer; he keeps walking until he’s hidden amongst a small grove of Kentucky coffeetrees, oval emerald leaves and umber seed pods that hang from branches, reminding you of skate egg cases—what some people call mermaid’s purses—you once found washed up on the beach outside Djibouti City. Rio teases you: “Ohhh, you’re in troubleee…”

You swat him on the back of the head; his hair is getting long too, dark curls that flutter in the breeze that comes in off the lake, hot and humid, the infinite wildness of July. “If I’m not going, you have to swear that you’ll—”

“I got it, I got it,” Rio says, blasé and jolly. “I’ll look underneath things, I’ll look on top of things, I’ll look everywhere. Okay?”

Aegon kicks him with his good foot. “Get me a golf club.”

“I’m not a Dick’s!”

“Dicks?! Who brought up dicks, you sicko…?!”

You go after Aemond and meet him in the shade, an island of twilight in the omnipotent golden morning. He pushes you against one of the Kentucky coffeetrees—rough bark to your back, prodding you through your t-shirt—and nuzzles your throat as he presses his hips to yours, blissful clandestine surrender as your knees weaken and you gaze dizzily up into the canopy of leaves.

You sigh: “This is not an explanation. This is a distraction. A very enjoyable one, but a distraction nonetheless.”

“Daeron is good with a bow, but he’s young,” Aemond murmurs. “I need you to help him protect the others.”

“You’ve managed to make this sound like a promotion.”

“And,” Aemond continues. “When things get risky and chaotic, and I’m trying to make sure everyone is safe…I find you being around to be…distracting.”

“Rio doesn’t think I’m a distraction.”

He chuckles, avoidant. “That’s not an equivalent situation.”

“I get that Luke has binoculars, but I am also perfectly capable of using binoculars, and I could borrow his and he could stay here. I really don’t think he’d mind being benched, he’d probably prefer it—”

“I always ask you to stay near Rio, and you never do, and then I have to worry about you getting lost or bitten or imperiled in any one of a million other ways.”

“Because it’s not that simple! Rio gets it, I have to be able to improvise—”

Suddenly, Aemond pulls away and asks: “Do you trust me?”

You are bewildered. “What?”

“Because I could understand if you don’t.”

You search his scarred face; he has that look like he’s trying not to reveal too much of himself, to show that he’s nervous or vulnerable or afraid. You touch your palm to his ravaged cheek, your voice soft. “I trust you, Aemond.”

He seems relived. “Good. Then please stay here.”

“You’ll watch out for Rio?” you say threateningly.

“Of course.”

“And yourself too.”

He grins, those small secretive teeth he loves to hide. “That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll check under things and on top of things, and you’ll remember what I said about the racks? When you go into stores and you’re rummaging through—?”

Aemond kisses you, warm and slow and kind, the curve of his lips pleased and mischievous. “It’s flattering that you’re so concerned.”

“And don’t forget the pads and tampons.”

His scarred eyebrow rises half an inch. “Oh?”

“I’m already having pre-period cramps. I’ll need supplies in a few days.”

“You’ll have them. Don’t fear.” Then he studies you, concerned, his brow furrowing and his palm testing your cheek and forehead. “You feeling okay? You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s very routine at this point, I’ve had a decade to get accustomed.”

“Alright. If there’s anything else you think of before we head out, I’ll add it to the list.” He takes your hand and examines the shallow scratches left on your wrist by the needlelike teeth of the pike. “Let me clean and wrap that up for you. I think I have just enough bandages left.”

“Your worst nightmare came true,” you joke. “I was bitten after all.”

Aemond doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s long after nightfall and you and Aegon are keeping watch just outside the Winnebago Spirit, slumped in folding camping chairs people once told their legends from: scary stories, workplace grievances, familial mythology. In the firepit, logs split and pop, and embers glow a bloody red. You’re waiting for the Tahoe to return and trying not to think about the possibility it might not.

“These suck,” Aegon says, garbled by a mouthful of Cheddar Whales, grimacing at the bright blue box. “Why do you and Rio eat these? They’re like…dodgy Goldfish.”

“Are you kidding?! They’re way better than Goldfish! Goldfish don’t taste like anything.”

“And Cheddar Whales taste like salty cardboard. The American Dream.” Aegon passes the box back to you. “They better come back with some SpaghettiOs or Rice-A-Roni or something. I can’t survive on Cregan’s overcooked fish.” He lights a Marlboro Gold cigarette by sticking it into the fire and takes a deep drag, looking up at the stars. Aemond gave him the last of the morphine before he left, and Aegon is floating on a feathery, narcotic cloud.

You say after at last working up the nerve: “So you’re a slut, right?”

He snickers, firelight dancing on his sunburned face. “Slut, loser, you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a slut. Why?”

“Have you ever had trouble…” Your hands flail around aimlessly; it’s so awkward to say out loud. “You know…getting it in?”

“No, not really. But I’m hung like a hamster.” He looks over at you, curious shimmering stoned blue eyes. “Technical difficulties, Chip And Dip? Not enough dipping going on?”

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re probably just nervous. Aemond’s a doctor, he’d be able to tell if you had something wonky down there, like those chicks who are born without a vagina. Or with two vaginas. Jesus Christ, can you imagine the possibilities? Why can’t I meet someone like that?”

You stare into the fire, discouraged. “I’m going to ruin everything.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Aemond will assume it’s his fault. He thinks everything is his fault.”

Through the darkness, you spot headlights bobbing as the Tahoe approaches on bumpy dirt roads. “Oh, thank God. They’re back.”

“About time. If Rio didn’t find me a new golf club, I’m going to drown him in the lake.”

“He could break you in half.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“No.”

“Because he likes me too much.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you like me too,” Aegon says as he exhales smoke, his glazed eyes listing to you, his grin crooked and drowsy. “Just a little bit.”

You smile reluctantly. “I might.”

“Cool.” He beams up at the stars, and then says again: “Cool.”

As the massive SUV rolls to a halt, the headlights cascading over you and so bright they’re nearly blinding, you notice the red letters on the grill: GMC. “That’s not the Tahoe,” you say, panicked.

“What? Then who is it?”

“I don’t know.” You stand up, instinctively reaching for one of your M9s; but they’re both empty. All the guns are. Your hand drops to your side.

Aegon, unable to rise on his own, remains in his chair and grips the armrests tightly. He whispers: “Should we go inside…?!”

“They’ve already seen us. But they don’t know who’s in the RV.” Rhaena, Baela, Helaena. With a shiver like a bolt of cold lightning, you recall what Aemond said at the bowling alley back in Shenandoah, Ohio: I don’t want them to know we have women with us.

The GMC Yukon is still running when two men step out, the headlights disorientingly bright. They are both armed, you see immediately, pistols that you’d guess are Colts. Aegon’s hand juts out and closes around your forearm as the strangers approach. They are both young, maybe twenty, and wearing jeans, camo jackets, and baseball hats like they’re going hunting. They stand in the yellow-white glow of the headlights as they watch you.

“Hi,” you say congenially, forcing a smile.

The men glance at each other, then one greets you with a nod. “Howdy.”

“We’re set up here,” you say. “But it’s a big campground. You’re welcome to any of the other spots.”

The man who spoke earlier chuckles and scratches at his short beard. You steal a glimpse back at Aegon: his eyes are huge and horrified.

“It’s real quiet on the lake,” you continue. “We haven’t had any problems, and we’ve been here a few days. It’s a good place. We’re happy to share it. We don’t…” You deliberate what words to use. “We aren’t interested in making trouble. We just want to be left alone.”

The man replies: “I camped here every single summer growing up, learned to fish here, swam in the water with my cousins, brought my girlfriends here to fuck. And now you’re inviting me to stay? You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent. This is my backyard. You’re the one who should be asking for permission.”

Aegon is making a low, whimpering sound; his fingernails are digging into the defenseless, downy underside of your forearm. “We don’t have anything of value,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Uh huh.” The stranger’s gaze flicks to the Winnebago.

“We found it. There’s no gas, no keys. Two of the tires are flat. It’s just shelter.”

“Who else is in the RV?”

“No one.”

The second man is squinting at Aegon. “Is he a cripple?”

“He was burned. That’s why we’re resting here for a while, so he can heal.”

The first man points to the bandage on your wrist. “Did you try to kill yourself? My neighbor did that when her kid got eaten. Slit her veins open out in the middle of the street. Bad scene.”

“I got mauled by a fish,” you reply numbly.

He laughs, a slow, rolling, mocking sort of sound, not taking his eyes off you. Then they drop to the Beretta M9s you have holstered at your waist. “Are those loaded?”

“Yes.”

He signals to the nearest Kentucky coffeetree. “Prove it. Shoot that tree.” You stare at its trunk, stark in the headlights of the strangers’ SUV. Long seconds tick by, the only sound the idling of the engine and the crackling of the firepit. “You can’t,” the man says, grinning. “Because you’re out of bullets. But I’m not.”

He raises his pistol and fires, a thunderclap, a mechanical roar. A small circular wound appears in the tree. Aegon shrieks and tries to stand; he tumbles to the earth when the raw, weeping flesh beneath his bandages betrays him. The RV door flies open and Daeron is the first one out, clutching his compound bow but still blinking his way out of the dreams he was jolted from. He won’t be able to nock one of his makeshift arrows before they shoot him.

“What the hell’s going on—?!”

“Drop it!” the stranger shouts, and both he and his companion aim their pistols at Daeron. He freezes. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena exit the RV and begin screaming, clinging to each other.

“Do what they ask,” you tell Daeron, trying to remain calm. With great hesitancy, he sets his bow on the earth and puts his empty palms in the air. There are hunting knives inside the RV, you think. Where did we store them? In a drawer, in a cabinet?

The men are now herding you all into the RV, jabbing the barrels of their pistols against your backs and bellies. “Let’s go, everybody in,” the first one says. The second man hooks an arm forcefully under one of Aegon’s and drags him through the threshold, Aegon yowling as his burned leg smacks against the doorframe. The second man forces Aegon and Daeron to kneel on the floor at the front of the RV near the driver’s seat; the other one arranges the women at gunpoint, instructing you to squeeze together to sit in a row on the floral couch. Helaena—farthest from you and closest to the kitchenette booth—is sobbing and covering her ears. Rhaena appears to be hyperventilating. Baela’s head is held high, her face furious and defiant.

Aemond, Rio, Cregan, please come back…

“Now this is interesting,” the first man is saying to his friend. He uses his pistol to indicate to each of you. “We’ve got G.I. Jane, this delicate little sweetheart, a pregnant lady, and Cinderella. Where should we begin…?”

You glance at Rhaena, catch her wide frenzied eyes, then look meaningfully at the drawers across the aisle near the kitchenette stove and sink. Knife? you mouth.

It takes her a moment to realize what you mean, then she inclines her head, an elusive nod. She remembers where they are, where they were stored once she cleaned them this afternoon in the lake water. That’s good; but in order for Rhaena to grab a large serrated hunting knife, the men will need to be distracted.

“There’s a bed in the back,” the second man is saying. “I can see it from here, down the hallway…”

Your gaze is darting around the Winnebago. Aegon is yelling something; the second man pistol-whips him, fortunately not hard enough to fracture his skull.

“Don’t worry,” the first man tells Aegon, background noise you try to ignore as you search for an opportunity. “You’ll get to watch…”

Helaena is trying to get your attention, staring at you with her wide, gleaming blue eyes. You furrow your brow at her, not understanding…and then you see the burlap strap she’s looped around her wrist. Her messenger bag must be in the kitchenette booth beside her. And as you watch, and only for a second, she arranges her fingers in the shape of a gun.

The Ruger, you realize, amazed, that tiny revolver she was always so repelled by. Helaena never used it, but she still has it. And it’s loaded.

Baela is arguing with the men, words you tune out. Helaena points to you, but you shake your head. There’s no way for her to get the Ruger to you without them seeing. You mouth to Helaena, your face severe: You have to do it. Then you look to the first man, presently waving his pistol in Baela’s face.

“I’d like to go first,” you say casually, and all the noise stops.

“No, no, no, I’ll do it,” Aegon tells the men. “You want a blowjob? You want to fuck me in the ass? I’m down. I’m not scared of no dick. I experimented in college.”

Both strangers burst into hysterical laughter. “That’s a mighty generous offer,” the second one says, swiping a tear from his eye. “But that’s not the team we’re on, is it, Wesley?”

The first man, Wesley, is smiling down at you. His gaze sweeps over your body, from your bare feet to your eyes, calm and level. “Why do you want to go first, darling?”

Shoot him, Helaena. Shoot him right now. “I’ve never done it before. I figure I should give it a try before it’s too late.”

Helaena whips the Ruger out of her burlap messenger bag and opens fire. She winces each time it goes off, and her aim is terrible; bullets pierce the ceiling and the walls, striking nowhere near Wesley or his accomplice, but their panicked ducking buys valuable seconds. Daeron and Aegon tackle the man closest to them and wrestle the pistol from his hands. Aegon presses the barrel to his skull, pulls the trigger, kills him instantly. Rhaena flies to one of the drawers and yanks out a hunting knife ten inches long. She buries it in Wesley’s throat, the blade disappearing until the hilt rests on his collarbone. When she rips it free, scarlet blood jets from his severed carotid artery, spraying you, soaking you. Blood is in your eyes and nostrils, hot coppery carnage; when you scream, you can taste it in your mouth.

People are reaching for you and telling you to calm down, that they’ll help you, but you can’t wait. You use your t-shirt to mop as much of the blood as you can from your face and bolt through the door of the RV, running towards the lake. You drop to your knees on the sand and splash yourself, cool moonlit rivulets that wash the blood away. You’re trembling, you’re crying, and when somebody grabs you by the arm you scream and strike out at them, clawing like an animal.

“It’s me,” Aemond says, and only then do you get a good look at him, blood and lake water beading on your eyelashes. He’s wiping blood off your face with his palms, he’s inspecting you for fresh wounds. “Don’t fight, it’s me, it’s me, whose blood is this, what happened—?!”

“You were right,” Baela says to Aemond from where she stands on the sand, a hand resting on her belly. Drifting from the RV are the voices of the others who have just returned: Rio, Cregan, Luke. “We’re not safe here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, rain falls as you lie entangled with Aemond in the attic bedroom of a ranch house in Red Desert, Wyoming, flashing lightning and flickering candles illuminating bare skin. You are kissing feverishly, your hands all over each other, and Aemond is pushing himself into you; or, rather, he is trying to. There is pain, and you can feel your body turning treasonous, rejecting him, shrinking away from him, fearing that you’ll never be able to satisfy him.

No, no no no…

His voice is hushed and gentle as his lips brush your ear. “Hey, you’re shaking, why are you shaking?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, keep going.” And then, when he stops: “No, Aemond, don’t—”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You have to. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Instead, he lies down beside you and turns your face to his, fingerprints on the slope of your jaw. He asks again, more firmly: “Why are you shaking?”

All the walls and arches of you collapse, stones tumbling to crack against the earth. You are suddenly fighting tears. Your words come out in a whisper. “I want this to be real.”

He studies your face, distressed. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to lose you. I never thought I’d have something like this and now I’m so afraid of fucking it up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what Jace thought.”

Aemond pulls you against his chest and holds you as you sink through him into dark, cold, watery dreams, and doesn’t make any more promises he can’t keep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What time is it on the East Coast right now?” you ask Rio. It’s May and almost a hundred degrees every day in Djibouti City—arid, rainless, sun glare and dust that sting your eyes—so the Navy has you building at night when they won’t have to deal with quite so many Seabees dropping over from heatstroke. Outside the day is turning to a soft lavender dusk and your shift will begin soon. You are dressed—sand-colored t-shirt, camo pants, work boots—and toweling off your hair, still wet from the shower.

Rio is sprawled across the floor of your room, taking up almost all of it; housing at Camp Lemonnier consists of converted shipping containers, each outfitted with its own perpetually whirring air conditioning unit. He is reading Fifty Shades Of Grey. “Like seven hours behind here, so early afternoon, I guess.” Then he looks up at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“I should probably call.”

“Should you really?”

“I want to. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

Rio shakes his head and returns his attention to his reading material. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“You love telling me what to do.”

“I wish you loved listening.” He flips a page, puzzled. “Why the fuck does Sophie like this book so much…?”

You open Facebook Messenger on your phone and make a call. The wifi isn’t good for videos, but old-fashioned audio calls usually work okay. There is an answer on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” she says, and you can hear the entire house when she turns on speakerphone: the squeaking of the recliner, the droning of a talk show, indistinct speech and chuckling from other people, glass—cups, bottles, baking dishes, ashtrays—clinking sharply.

“Hi, Mama! Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Aw, ain’t you sweet to call.” And you are testing her voice like water from a tap, icy cold, hot enough to scald. At the moment, Mama sounds perfectly lukewarm. “I didn’t count on hearing from you. I know how busy you are.”

That’s a landmine that you step gingerly around. “We definitely have a lot going on here, and there’s the time difference and everything…but I wanted to make sure to say hi, even if I can’t talk for long. What are you up to today?”

“Oh, nothing much.” You hear her smoking: breathe in, breathe out, a cunning sort of pause as she decides how to proceed. Of course there were no extravagant festivities planned. Nothing ever felt like a real holiday at home: Mama getting sloshed and burning the turkey on Thanksgiving, Christmas presents that had to be returned for grocery and gas money, fistfights and doors ripped off hinges on New Year’s Eve. You had decided years ago that Hallmark channel magic was pure fiction…but sometimes you get glimpses of it now. Thanksgiving dinner in some unceremonious chow hall with Rio and your other friends feels more like a holiday than anything else you’ve ever known. “You still in Africa?”

“It’s Djibouti, Mama, I told you. It’s on the Horn. Across the sea is Yemen and Saudi Arabia.”

“Why can’t they put y’all to work in your own goddamn country?”

“Well, we do that too sometimes.” You stall, listening to her smoking. Rio glances up at you from where he’s still reading on the floor. “They have some incredible beaches here. Yesterday morning we went down to the water and there were all these cute kids playing, and they only spoke French but Rio showed them how to play tic-tac-toe by drawing a board in the sand—”

“I like the beach,” she says, and you know you’ve made a mistake. “You remember that?”

Deflated now: “Yeah, Mama. I remember. Are the boys going to take you to Virginia Beach this summer?”

She scoffs. “We’ll see, but I doubt it. It’s expensive, girl.”

You sigh deeply. Rio was right. I shouldn’t have called. “We talked about this. I need to be saving up to get my own house one day, and my own car, and all those things I’ll need to have a life when I get out of the Navy—”

“And what about my house?!” Mama cries, damn near wails. “I’m gonna lose it! I can’t make the payments!”

You reply calmly: “Mama, that’s your house. That’s your business. And you’ve got more than one kid still living at home long after they’ve turned eighteen, so they need to be the people you’re asking to help, not me.”

“You’re gonna let your Mama be homeless? Is that what you called to tell me on Mother’s Day? What the hell kind of daughter are you?”

“I got out!” you shout into the phone, and Rio is scrambling off the floor to rush to you. “I’m learning things and I’m making money and I’m building schools and hospitals on the other side of the fucking planet, and you can’t be proud of me because you think it means you’ve failed, but the truth is that you could have gotten out too! All of you could have! But you didn’t, it was me, it was just me, and now you hate me for it!”

“You need to come home now,” Mama says. “You gotta take care of me, take care of your Mama. You only got one and she needs you, so you gotta heed me. That’s what’s right.”

“I am not going to spend the rest of my life watching you get wasted in that filthy house, and I’d work where, at the Dollar General? At Arby’s? And get knocked up by the first guy who shows any interest?”

“You’re giving me heart palpitations. I’m gonna have to go to the emergency room and it’s all your fault.”

Rio is whispering into your other ear, one of his massive palms resting on the back of your neck: “Just hang up. It’s not worth it. You can hang up, just hang up…”

“I want things to be normal,” you tell Mama, you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. “I’ve tried so hard to get along with everyone, and help you as much as I can, but no matter what I do it’s not enough, and you’re always mad at me, and you’re always fighting with me—”

“You’re damn right I’m fighting with you, because you’re a spiteful, selfish child.”

“Hang up,” Rio is murmuring. “Hang up, hang up, hang up…”

“Mama,” you say, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

“When I’m homeless, you know you got no one but yourself to blame—”

You hit the red button to end the call, throw your phone down onto the bed, stare at the wall and swallow noisily, choking back sobs. You won’t let yourself cry. You’ve cried enough for them already. You have to keep moving forward. The only way out is through. “You were right,” you say to Rio at last, quiet and raspy. Your hands are trembling. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hey.” He grabs your face roughly, forces you to look at him with your miserable shimmering eyes, grins hugely. “I’m your mom now, bitch.”

You laugh as tears spill down your cheeks, let him bury you in one of his smothering bear hugs, cling to him like a life raft in a storm.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction

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ticklygiggles · 1 month ago

Text

Just need to ask! | KuroTsuki [n$fw]

Commissioned by anonymous

A/N: don't look at me I'm the worst writer. I hope you enjoy this, tho, dear and kind anon commissioner. Thank you so so much for your kiiiind support! I hope these boys aren't too ooc fkfnfkkf

Words: 3k+

Summary: Tsukishima is an annoying little shit.

Kuroo fought the urge to roll his eyes as the remote was snatched from his hand. This had been a common occurrence for almost three weeks now. No matter what Kuroo was doing, Tsukishima always, and he really meant always, found something to do to annoy him.

If, like now, Kuroo was watching TV, then Tsukishima would appear and snatch the remote from him to watch a movie 'he'd wanted to see for a long time'. If Kuroo was making himself a coffee and he neglected it for just a moment, a spoonful of salt would be poured into it. If he wanted to rest on his bed after a day of work or during his day off, Tsukishima would sit on him, pulling at his hair and pinching his cheeks like a child wanting attention.

Kuroo really didn't understand why Tsukishima was doing all this, well... actually… he had an idea of why Tsukishima did all those kinds of things, but he didn't dare to say it out loud because Tsukishima could kill him, but… could it be that he liked being tickled by Kuroo?

Kuroo didn't really mind Tsukishima's silly pranks, so he always resorted to tickling him to get him to give back the remote or to let him sleep, and he always noticed how satisfied and well-behaved Tsukishima became after receiving his dose of tickling.

At this point Kuroo had no doubts, but he couldn't just jump up and say all that to Tsukishima's face either... however, when Kei chose the same movie he put on every time he took the TV away from Kuroo, saying again that he hadn't seen it, he simply had enough.

He sighed and noticed how Tsukishima seemed to perk, his hand tightening around the remote. “Ah, again at it? C'mon Tsukki, wouldn't it be easier if you just ask me to tickle you?”

“H-Huh?!” Oh, he couldn't be more obvious. His cheeks turned a red crimson, resembling cherries, and he sputtered out nonsense, stuttering like an idiot. Kuroo chuckled, a very adorable idiot. “Why w-would you think- ehehehe! Ahahahaha, nohoho!”

“Yeah, I'm sorry, it was stupid of me to think you'd like this,” Kuroo said nonchalantly as his fingers squeezed up and down Tsukishima’s long sides. The blonde fell back against the couch as he squirmed but, as always, he didn't try to push away the hands that were tickling him. If anything, he even seemed to arch his body against Kuroo's fingers, seeking more of that maddening touch.

Kuroo chuckled, his fingers quickly finding Tsukishima's ribs, making him jump and let out a loud laugh.

“Who in their right mind would like getting tickled, right? It is so annoying!” Tsukishima's face was only getting redder and redder the more Kuroo teased him. “You laugh uncontrollably, you feel tingles rushing up your spine and the sensations overflow your mind. Ugh, it's so terrible, don't you think, Tsukki?”

“Pl-Plehehease, T-Tehehetsu! Ahahaha! Leave m-my rihihibs alohohone!”

“But hey, I did notice something!” Kuroo said, totally ignoring Tsukishima as his fingers moved behind his ribcage, digging into the back of his ribs, knowing that was a very sensitive spot. Tsukishima shrieked and arched his back away from the couch, jerking from side to side like a little worm. “I noticed a certain someone trying to be a little shit to me every chance he gets! This guy, gosh, he doesn't give me a break! He plays stupid jokes on me, he takes the remote out of my hands when I'm watching something on the TV. He even puts salt in my coffee?!”

Kuroo rolled his eyes playfully, his heart doing somersaults as he heard Tsukishima’s laughter getting louder and more desperate as he relentlessly tickled his ribs.

“Honestly, he is a handful, but hey, when I punish him with a little tickling, he suddenly starts behaving so well? Well, at least for a few days, because then he starts to annoy me again, but I just tickle him one more time and everything is solved!”

Tsukishima's glasses were askew as he shook his head, tears of laughter falling down the sides of his face.

“I think… that person must really enjoy being tickled, don't you think so too, Tsukki?”

Poor little Tsukishima. He was too busy laughing his head off as Kuroo's fingers vibrated against his upper pair of ribs, dangerously close to his armpits, another exquisitely sensitive spot that always made Tsukishima shriek.

Kuroo began to feel his cheeks heating up a little, Tsukishima's expression was… beautiful. It was all scrunched up as he laughed, eyebrows furrowing, nose crinkling and mouth stretched into the happiest of smiles ever. He really looked like he was enjoying Kuroo's fingers tormenting his ticklish ribcage mercilessly… perhaps a bit too much.

Kuroo gulped and he stopped only to gather Tsukishima's wrists in one of his hands, pulling his long arms above his head. He didn't miss the sad expression overtaking his face as the tickling ceased.

“You surely look quite disappointed for someone that doesn't like being tickled, Kei~”

Tsukishima trembled under him, his body twitching slightly as if his ribs were having little tickly short circuits. He was breathing heavily, face flushed red. Kuroo knew that glint in his eyes and something within his chest fluttered, his eyes squinting.

“Are your turned on, Kei?” Tsukishima whimpered, his lips trembling as if he wanted to cry; Kuroo shuddered. “So me tickling you makes you horny? Are you hard right now?”

A moan escaped Tsukishima's lips when Kuroo pressed his hand against his cock, palming his growing erection. He chuckled. “Now I understand why you kept being annoying, you really wanted me to tickle you, huh?”

“K-Kuroo, pl-plehease, I really-”

“Do you want me tickle you more, Tsukki? I can do it… you just need to ask. Otherwise I won't keep doing it.”

Tsukishima whimpered again and Kuroo felt his cock twitching as a savage smirk pulled at his lips.

“I can tickle you so nicely, Tsukki, you know that… you just need to ask~”

“Please!” Tsukishima begged, almost sobbing. “Please, I c-can't take it anymore, Tetsu, just… tickle me more, please!”

Kuroo grinned like a madman. “Why, of course, Tsukki. You just needed to ask. Now, keep these arms up there, if you dare to lower them, I will stop. Do you hear?”

Tsukishima nodded and Kuroo chuckled. Adorable. He looked down at Tsukishima's torso almost hungrily and thought perhaps it was a good idea to get rid of his shirt, so he gently grabbed the hem and started to pull it up so painfully slowly, blowing cool air against Tsukishima's skin, causing him to shiver and moan softly as his skin covered in goosebumps.

He pulled the shirt up all the way up to Tsukishima's wrists and fastened it a little around them to keep them together. Kuroo then proceeded to tease Tsukishima a bit more, his fingers going slowly down, barely millimeters away from the other's milky skin. He was totally not touching him, but Tsukishima squirmed with soft mewls and little squeals whenever Kuroo hovered over a way too sensitive spot.

Kuroo felt a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. Whoa, how could tickling be so erotic? Tsukishima could barely keep himself together, his hips were circling slightly as his dick grew harder and harder.

“Don't move,” Kuroo warned as his fingers gently snaked under the waistband of Tsukishima's pants, his lower tummy jumped and trembled, but ultimately, he stayed still as Kuroo unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He pulled it down a little, along with Tsukishima's underwear, just enough to exposed his beautiful hipbones and purposely keep his cock confined. Kei whined, jerking his hips a little.

“Do not move.”

“S-Stop teasing me and j-j-juhuhust, ah!” A heavy shudder made Tsukishima's body tremble. Kuroo giggled as his fingertips lightly caressed the smooth, delicate skin.

He carefully followed the outline of Tsukishima's hips, moving inwards, dipping into the hollows and them zigzagging from left to right across his lower tummy. He felt the muscles trembling under his tender touch and Tsukishima whined, shimmying his hips a little as Kuroo's fingers moved up. He circled his belly button, carefully caressing the rim before he started to move outwards, tracing the muscles of Tsukishima's toned stomach.

“K-Kuroo, angh! Pl-Please just tickle me,” he whimpered. “You're dr-driving me crazy.” He sounded almost breathless as his body arched up when Kuroo's fingers moved higher towards his ribs.

“Patience is a virtue, Tsukki. Why don't you just enjoy yourself right now?” Kuroo purred, tracing each rib with his fingernails, causing Tsukishima to jerk. “When I really start tickling you… you'll want me to come back to this soft tickling, I assure you that.”

Tsukishima whined, closing his elbows over his face to hide away from Kuroo's eyes. Kuroo giggled.

“Did you really want me to tickle you like this? Poor Kei-kun, he must have been feeling so needy for my tickles, you needn't be so shy around me.”

“Pl-Please sh-shut uhuhup- ah!”

“Your armpits are so ticklish.” He was barely touching him, tracing the skin so carefully, so gently, it should be annoyingly itchy more than tickly, but Tsukishima still squirmed and his lips trembled as he started to smile and sweet, little chuckles started to filter out. “And so soft. I'm not gonna lie, I love touching them.”

“P-Pehehervert! Aha! Sohohorry!” A quick scribble was enough to make him shut up and Kuroo laughed, shaking his head.

“I was going to be a bit merciful, you know? But after that, I don't think I will. And now that I think about it, your armpits seem to be really needing some tickles right now.”

He started slowly, his gently tracing turned into little scribbles, then scratches and finally digging that had Tsukishima howling with laughter.

“Don't lower your arms.”

Tsukishima shook his head. “I'm tryihihing, buhut it tihihickles!”

“I said,” Kuroo growled, pinning Tsukishima's wrists above his head. “Do not lower your arms.”

He resumed the tickling, his fingers digging into the muscle. Knuckles rubbing against the center of his armpit and then fingertips vibrating into the hollow. Tsukishima was shrieking with laughter, shaking his head and pulling at his trapped arms as he arched and squirmed. His laughter became more hysterical and panicked the more Kuroo tickled him. His milky skin had turned pinkish and it seemed like the sensitivity of his armpit was only increasing and increasing.

“STOHOP!” He begged, babbling incoherent pleas as he started to get hysterical. “PLEHEHEASE!”

“Is it driving you crazy? Is it too much for you? Nah, you can still hold yourself up, don't you? I haven't even tickled your other armpit! I cannot neglect it, can I?”

Tsukishima shook his head, probably meaning to say that Kuroo didn't have to actually tickle his other armpit, but Kuroo chuckled and nodded. “I knew you'd think the same, Tsukki. Here I go~”

“AHAHAHA!”

Kuroo made sure to tickle that other armpit so much that it quickly started to turn pink as well. Tsukishima was screaming, his voice hoarse and his face wet with tears as Kuroo viciously tickled him.

“Hey, what underarm tickles the most?” he suddenly asked and he wondered if Tsukishima could hear him over his loud laughter. “This one? Or this one? This one? Or this one? This one… Tsukishima tell me!”

“BOHOHOTH!” Tsukishima sobbed. “They b-both fuhuhucking tihihickle! Stohohop!”

Kuroo did stop and Tsukishima went limp against the surface of the couch. The former Nekoma captain looked down at Tsukishima's chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He chuckled, pressing his palms flat against each side of Tsukishima's ribcage. Kei jolted with a gasp, whimpering as he saw Kuroo's head lowering towards his chest.

“K-Kuroo? W-What are y-you doing? Angh!”

Kuroo didn't notice, as he was very busy of course, but Tsukishima rolled his eyes back into his skull when Kuroo's warm, wet mouth closed around one of his pink nipples. He sucked at it as if trying to pull something out, his tongue fluttered against the little nub of nerves and his teeth grazed the sensitive skin.

“K-Kuroo! Oh, th-that’s s-so good! A-Ah! M-My nipple is s-so sensitive.”

Kuroo thought that he had really broken Tsukishima. Never, in any of their intimate moments, had he said something like that. Kuroo felt his cheeks flushing as he smirked.

“You're really enjoying yourself right now, huh?”

“YES!” Tsukishima moaned, arching his back as Kuroo started to pinch his other nipple. “Y-Yes, I'm l-loving it!”

Kuroo gulped. Whoa, his boyfriend was so hot. He chuckled and the touch on Tsukishima's ribs became lighter, Kuroo's fingertips tracing each rib ticklishly. Tsukishima moaned, trembling as Kuroo’s mouth jumped from one nipple to the other.

“T-Tehetsu~ angh! Pl-Please!”

Kuroo was a bit startled when he felt a hand gently nudging his hip. He didn't know how, but Tsukishima had freed one of his hands and was quickly going under his boxers. Kuroo stopped it, making Tsukishima jump.

“Nuh-uh, you can't touch yourself,” he warned, slapping Tsukishima hand.

“Tet-Tetsu please! I w-want to-"

“I said…” Kuroo raised his voice slightly as his thumbs dug into Tsukishima's hips, rubbing quick, maddening circles. Tsukishima arched his spine and threw his head back in hysterics. “... You cannot touch yourself. That's not really something hard to understand, right?”

“KUHUROO, PLEHEHEASE!” Tsukishima begged, sobbing and writhing. His now free hands weakly, uselessly tried to push Kuroo's hands away.

“If you touch yourself, I'm gonna leave you here, whimpering pathetically to yourself. Do you want that?” Tsukishima shook his head. “Okay, then be good and do as you're told.”

“I will! I wihihill! Please no m-more! No mohohohore tihihihickles!”

“I decide when to stop, Tsukki, because you clearly can't even ask me to tickle you in the first place.”

A hand stuck to one of Tsukishima's hips, pinching it gently, but firmly, making Tsukishima scream in hysteria. His other hand tugged at Tsukishima's pants and underwear, exposing more of his hips, the place where his thighs met his pelvis, and finally, with a slightly strong tug, his cock bounced out of his clothes, moans mixing with his laughter. Kuroo laughed as he watched that pathetic cock shaking and bouncing with Tsukishima's every movement.

He almost felt bad seeing the state of Tsukishima's cock. The tip was red and swollen, precum gushing out and falling in big, thick drops all over Tsukishima's length. It was twitching, pulsating, the veins very visible and about to explode.

“Look how you are for just some tickles, Tsukki. You're very naughty~”

Kuroo had almost forgotten he was still tickling him until he felt the gentle touch of a trembling hand against his own. Tsukishima was shaking with silent laughter, some snorts vibrating in his nose.

“Hehe, does it tickle too bad?” Tsukishima nodded, red in the face. “You want me to stop?” He nodded again, jerking when Kuroo tickled his other hip as well. “I'll stop if you cum while I'm tickling you. Can you do that?” Tsukishima shook his head, wrapping his hands around Kuroo's wrists and pushing at them. Kuroo let him push his hands away, he didn't want to suffocate Tsukishima.

The poor man collapsed on the bed again, still trembling with silent laughter until he caught his breath again and his hysteria turned into giggles and then into gulps of air.

“Pl-Please,” Tsukishima babbled, looking at Kuroo. “L-Let me c-cum, Tetsu… I r-really c-can't take anym-more.”

Kuroo felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked at the mess Tsukishima was in. He couldn't help but lean down and capture Kei’s lips into a heated kiss. Both men moaned and Kuroo used his nimble hands to pull Tsukishima's pants off completely, throwing them away and placing himself between his legs.

He kissed Tsukishima's chin down to his throat and the side of his neck. Tsukishima whimpered, his arms hugging Kuroo's shoulders as a moan escaped his lips when teeth sunk into his warm, flushed skin. Kuroo unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock, looking down at it, he couldn't help but chuckle as he shook his head.

“Look how you have me, Tsukki.” His cock was no better than Tsukishima's. Pathetically on the verge of exploding, twitching and leaking.

Kuroo lifted his face when he heard Tsukishima chuckle and he arched an eyebrow. “What's so funny?”

“You're really enjoying yourself right now, huh?” Kuroo's eyebrow twitched and he smirked, nodding a little before he grabbed Tsukishima's hips, plunging himself right into his hole.

Tsukishima arched his back with a silent scream, his pupils shook and his cock trembled momentarily before cum came spurting out.

“Oh heavens, did you already cum, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima threw his head back and finally moaned loudly, pleasure washing over him, making his limbs shake and his torso convulse. Kuroo smirked, watching Tsukishima drowning in the pleasure he wanted so badly, feeling his ass tightening around his cock, almost making him cum too, but he held it back as best as he could. He wasn't done yet.

He grabbed Tsukishima's cock and stroked him, milking out all of that delicious orgasm, until Tsukishima was whimpering and sobbing with overstimulation.

“S-S-Stoplease! Tet-s-s-su-aaanhh!”

“Shhh~ you're not getting any softer, Tsukki. Now, let the fun begin, hmm?”

“H-Huh? What- haaah! AHAHAHA!”

“There we go.”

Kuroo was surprised at his own wickedness, was he going too far? His hands had been placed in that terrible place, very close to Tsukishima's groin, and his fingers buried themselves in that muscle that always made Tsukishima lose his mind.

“I hear one gets more sensitive after cumming, is it true, Kei?”

Poor Tsukishima couldn't answer him. He was stumbling and choking on his own laughter, his glasses having long since been blown off when he threw his head back too hard. His weak, trembling hands desperately clung to Kuroo's wrists, but he barely had the strength to pull them away from the inside of his thighs. Squeals of laughter and whimpers escaped Tsukishima's mouth and Kuroo was almost certain he heard his name between the laughter.

He couldn't even imagine what Tsukishima was feeling at that moment, but he thought maybe he was having too much fun, because his cock started to leak again. It was then that Kuroo decided to start moving, pushing his hips back slowly, his cock almost popping out of Tsukishima's hole, before ramming into him hard. He repeated the process over and over and over again, the utterly filthy sounds filling the room, echoing off every wall.

The noise coming from their mouths seemed to be meaningless, on one hand, Kuroo was moaning and grunting like never before, Tsukishima squeezing his ass around his cock so hard that he was close to cumming a couple of times. Tsukishima, for his part, laughed, screamed, and moaned until his voice became hoarse. A few pleas could be heard between the laughs, but Kuroo was already in his own world of pleasure and he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't care less how ticklish Tsukishima was in that spot, or how good it felt or how many times he asked him to stop, but also ask him to tickle him more and fuck him harder and faster.

“K-Kei… Kei, i'm c-cumming, f-fuckngh! Y-You feel amazing, ah! I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm-”

His hands stopped torturing the inside of Tsukishima's thighs as he finally reached his peak. Kuroo trembled and his teeth chattered with pleasure. His mind went blank and he could only feel his skin prickling and Tsukishima's ass tightening around his spent cock.

When he finally came back from his ecstasy, he looked down at Tsukishima and he was staring back at him, his face a mess of fluids: tears, saliva, and even a bit of snot running down his nostrils. His face was as red as a cherry, and tears glistened on his long eyelashes, which almost touched his cheeks as he looked at Kuroo with almost closed eyes. He had cum as well and looked very tired, but the smile on his lips was adorably wide, full of love and tenderness.

Kuroo chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss Tsukishima's cheek before pressing their foreheads together. “Did you have fun?”

Tsukishima nodded softly. “I loved it. It was… more than I could've ever asked for.” His shaking arms wrapped around Kuroo's neck, bringing him closer until their bodies were touching, Kuroo's shirt getting ruined with all the cum on Tsukishima's stomach, but he didn't care, if anything he snuggled into Tsukishima's neck, pressing kisses under his ear and his jaw. Tsukishima let out adorable giggles.

“I loved it too… we should do it again soon, hmm?” Kuroo placed his hands firmly against Tsukishima's waist, soothing the residual tingles on his skin. “But I think we should bathe first.”

Tsukishima nodded, “I agree to both.”

They both laughed softly before sharing a small kiss. Kuroo carried Tsukishima with ease to the bathroom when he had complained that his body had turned into jelly because of him. A warm bath and a restful sleep awaited them, as did the excitement of feeling such crazy pleasure again. Kuroo never thought tickling could be so nice, but well, now he thought his hands wouldn't give Tsukishima a break!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! tickling #kurotsuki #kuroo tetsurou #Tsukishima kei #kuroo x tsukishima #ticklish!Tsukishima #tickle fic #n$fw #spicy #mia's things #commissions #commission

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3rdgymbros · 9 days ago

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━ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐞 !

— pairing; scaramouche x reader.

— summary; you are sandrone of the fatui, your ruin machine spoils and scaramouche is forced to carry you.

— notes; if it's lore inaccurate, it is what it is bc i haven't played genshin in years but this brain worm wouldn't leave me alone and i wrote this. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ Your beloved ruin machine, the one you've meticulously modified to perfection, decides to betray you at the worst possible moment. Gears jam, steam hisses, and the giant collapses with you still perched on top.

❋ It must be divine retribution for all your misdeeds.

❋ And Scaramouche, of all people, is nearby to witness the chaos. His first reaction, as is befitting of someone with a terrible personality, is to laugh. Right in your face. It’s like rubbing salt into an open wound.

❋ “So much for being a genius, Sandrone. You couldn’t keep that heap of junk running?”

❋ Your ruin machine is your only form of transportation, and since you can’t walk without it . . . That leaves Scaramouche to carry you.

❋ And you tell him as such imperviously, still trying to hold onto what remains of your pride even though you’re still stuck atop your ruined creation and unable to move without his assistance.

❋ Scaramouche looks as though he’s debating the merits of leaving you behind, but eventually (and with a lot of complaining) he agrees to carry you. Not out of the goodness of his heart (you strongly doubt that he has one), but because, “We can’t waste any more time with your incompetence.”

❋ He doesn’t even ask for permission — the nerve of him! — and just scoops you up like you’re another piece of cargo to be transported.

❋ You are not happy about being carried in such an undignified manner, and you’re going to make sure he knows it. You manage to find fault in everything; scolding him for his pace, his grip, and how he’s crumpling your very expensive outfit.

“You’re holding me wrong! My arm’s falling asleep.” “You’re walking too fast, I’m going to fall.” “You’re walking too slow, hurry up!” “This position is uncomfortable. I should have let the ruin machine just throw me off instead.”

❋ After what feels like hours (but more than likely is only ten minutes), Scaramouche stops dead, turns his head and hisses, “Keep this up, Sandrone, and I’ll toss you into the nearest ravine. Maybe your precious ruin machine can fish you out — oh, that’s right, it’s broken.”

❋ His threat is laced with just enough venom to make you reconsider continuing your tirade. Instead, you purse your lips tight and fall silent, looking as though you’re sucking on a lemon. Despite his anger, Scaramouche doesn’t actually drop you. Instead, he keeps carrying you, muttering curses under his breath.

❋ You’d rather die than say it aloud, but there’s a strange comfort in the way he carries you. His grip is steady and secure, and you notice he’s careful not to jostle you too much, even when you hit uneven terrain.

❋ Scaramouche, for his part, acts like it’s the greatest inconvenience of his life, but there’s an odd softness in the way he supports you.

❋ (Though there’s nothing soft about the way he dumps you onto the ground once you’re back at camp.)

#scaramouche x reader #Scaramouche headcanons #Scaramouche imagines #Scaramouche fluff #scaramouche fanfic #Scaramouche x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact reader insert #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons

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nouvxllev · 1 year ago

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defense!

Pairing: Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Summary: A very painful 'ssss...' came out of her mouth when you tapped on the gash a bit too hard. You had brought Vada to your house and into your bedroom, and now you found yourself standing between her legs. Vada carefully sat down on the edge of your comforter and your hand cupping her chin to steady her, preventing her from squirming every 10 seconds as if she was a worm being sprinkled with salt.

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Mentions of fights & slight bleeding. Other than that, I believe none.

a/n: im someone who would get random bursts of ideas but then dies down whenever im actually writing it. if you wanna request something, im up for it!

masterlist.

"Fuck, Fuck— Y/n! Stop!" Vada squirmed, her hands slapping her lap to at least get rid of the pain.

"Vada—If you move one more damn time, please, for the love of God."

She winced under your touch, the sting only getting worse and worse whenever you hovered the q-tip over the bruise on her face.

A very painful 'ssss...' came out of her mouth when you tapped on the gash a bit too hard. You had brought Vada to your house and into your bedroom, and now you found yourself standing between her legs. Vada carefully sat down on the edge of your comforter and your hand cupping her chin to steady her, preventing her from squirming every 10 seconds as if she was a worm being sprinkled with salt.

You sighed, "This wouldn't have happened if you didn't pick a fight with those frat boys, Vada." Moving away from her face, you checked how the bruise looked after applying pints of betadine. She had one heavily bruised eye, darkening into black and purple, a bleeding nose, a sizable scrape on her left cheek, and a slight bruise on her lip.

In all seriousness, you were holding back yourself in literal chains to refrain from saying she looked like someone who got run over 3 times in a row then checked back to see if she was alive then punched her. But how could you say that to your girlfriend?

"Is… Is it that bad?" Vada whimpered, looking at you with shame.

"Nope… Nah. I'm gonna get the kit," you scoffed, heading to the kitchen to fetch the first aid kit.

"If it's not that bad, then why are you getting the first aid kit!? Don't you just need bandaids for this!?" Vada shouted from across the room, her voice already tinged with worry. She hesitated to check the mirror across from your bed but she too sore to even get up.

You returned with a first aid kit in your hands, "Oh gosh, Vada, I can't even lie to you. It looks bad, okay? It looks very, very bad. It's like you got into a fight with a tiger, lost, called for a rematch, then lost again," you explained, trying to hold back laughter.

"I can't go home like this! Let alone go to school the next day! Everyone's gonna know I'm some weakshit." She looked down to the ground and then immediately looked back up after she heard your voice.

You settled the first aid kit beside both of you, then cupped her chin. "You have bruises all over your face, a sore body, and you're worried about that?" you chuckled, how in the world did you end up with such a dorky girlfriend?

"Uhh, yeah? I have a rep at our school."

"Your rep is the girl who was high on drugs and then got a ballpen exploded in her mouth, baby." You rolled your eyes, applying small amounts of betadine to the scrape on her face. "Also, you haven't told me why you got into that fight. I know you just don't pick fights every so often and with frat boys? Really, Vada?" Your voice softened, adopting a comforting tone.

"Okay, first of all, that ballpen thing was last year! I can't believe some are still bringing it up. And second, well…"

You looked at her as you stopped tending to her wounds, eyes anticipating, and your eyebrows furrowing. "Well...?"

"Okay... okay," She adjusted herself, her legs that were dangling from your bed now crossed. "You have to promise me you won't, ever, ever, ever tease or laugh at me for saying this." She exclaimed, her lips forming a smile that she tried hard to suppress. She then held out her pinky, "pinky promise?"

"Oh, Vada... That's a hard task. Even if I pinky promise now, I'd still laugh." You smiled, but held up your pinky anyway, intertwining it with hers.

"I thought you didn't like breaking pinky promises."

"Hey, I can bend my own rules sometimes."

Vada took a deep breath, closing her eyes tight as ever. "I was... I was defending your honor, okay?"

There was complete silence in the air, Vada's eyes still closed, and you were holding in laughter so hard that you felt like you could pass out.

Vada opened your eyes to see your jaw clenched, and eyes literally watering. "Maybe I used the wrong term, okay! I was—"

"Vada, please, just give me permission to laugh before I pass out!"

"Okay, okay! You can laugh, Jesus!"

You then burst out laughing, your arms hugging your chest before it might explode, "What do you mean by defending my honor?! Oh God—!"

"I have a black and purple eye and you're laughing!" She pointed towards herself while looking at you with serious eyes before immediately breaking and laughing together with you. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

A literal minute passed before you got your things together and stopped laughing, a huff of air exhaling from you as you carefully cup Vada's cheeks.

"In my defense, they were talking smack about you in the hallways. I can't just let that happen," she whispered, her eyes looking up at yours, then down to your lips. "If it'll stop your name from coming out of their mouths, I'll gladly fight them again."

"Vada, you lost. I'm sure they would still talk shit about me." You chuckled, seeing Vada's eyebrows furrow. You caressed your thumb over the bruise on her lip, watching her reaction.

"Can't you just say I did good? I packed quite a punch; you can even ask Nick!" She retorted, wrapping her arms around yours.

"I'm only joking, baby, thank you," you whispered before leaning down to kiss her lips, careful not to injure her. Despite the fight, you could still taste the lip gloss she was using—the Christmas gift you got her; a faint strawberry scent with a strange mix of fresh blood, probably from her bruise.

She leaned in more towards the kiss, her arms pulling you in. Before you knew it, you both were lying on your bed, your hands going to the sides to support your body on top of her.

You were the first one to pull away, hearing Vada whimper at the loss of your soft lips on hers. "We are not making out. I'm still tending to your wounds."

"But we were halfway there!" Vada grinned, pushing herself up when you stood up to your original position.

You rolled her eyes before giving in and kissing her lips yet again, but only a quick peck before she was wincing again as you jammed the Q-tip full of betadine on her scar. "Alright, shut up."

#vada cavell x reader #vada cevell x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #the fallout

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 months ago

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Steve’s eyes popped open and groaned at the light streaming through the window. His head was killing him. He shouldn't have had all that tequila. He suddenly realized that there wasn't anything between him in the sheets, and there were two arms across his chest. He looked over on his left to find a naked Eddie Munson lying next to him. The sheet had fallen off of him, and he had a clear view of his ass. The other arm was coming from his right side. He followed it to find Chrissy sleeping on her side, facing him. The sheet had fallen to her waist, and he could see her breasts very clearly.

"Fuck," Steve muttered.

Memories were starting to come back from last night. It was supposed to be him, Robin, Eddie, and Chrissy, but Robin had to cancel because she was sick. Although, he couldn't remember who's idea idea it was to do tequila shots, but suddenly, they were no longer watching the movie. He remembered their hands in his hair, massaging his scalp, and then the next thing he knew, they were licking salt off his neck. There was kissing. . .Eddie had kissed him first, and then it had been Chrissy.

"I like Nancy, she's pretty. . .pretty great," he remembered Chrissy slurring her words. "But we're going to make you forget all about her."

Steve remembered begging them to tear off his clothes, begging them to do so many things: biting, kissing. . .he even begged them to spank him. He definitely remembered the fucking, too. He tried to sit up without waking them up, but as soon as he moved, it alerted Eddie and Chrissy. Eddie sat up suddenly, gathering all the sheets to cover himself. He yelped when he inadvertently ripped the sheets off of Steve and Chrissy. He looked up at the ceiling.

"Did we - ?" Eddie asked.

"Fuck?" Steve asked, smirking. "Yes, we did."

"JESUS H CHRIST!" Eddie yelled.

"Eddie, baby, volume," Chrissy said with a groan. "Why are you freaking out? We've had sex before."

"Not with Steve!" Eddie shrieked.

"Edward," Chrissy said, rubbing her temples.

"Sorry," Eddie said. "Why aren't you freaking out about this?"

"Well, I thought most people secretly kind of thought other people of the same sex were attractive," Steve said. "I don't think that means we're gay."

"I always thought that!" Chrissy exclaimed happily.

"WELL, WE'RE NOT STRAIGHT, STEVEN," Eddie said and groaned, burried his face into the pillow. "Ugh, I think I pissed off my own hangover. Seriously, Chrissy. . .this doesn't surprise you?"

His head was stuffed into the pillow, so his voice had been muffled. It was amusing to see his bare ass sticking high up in the air like that.

"Well, you practically drool over Steve like he's a well-done steak and then, of course, there was that time that you called out his name when we were in bed together," Chrissy said. "You're not as mysterious as you think you are, babe."

"I never noticed anything," Steve frowned.

"Well, we weren't on the map for you at the time. You were trying to get over Nancy," Chrissy said.

"Fuck Nancy," Steve grinned and then frowned. "I mean not fuck her, you know, or fuck her. . .because she's my friend now, too, so. . .ah, you know what I mean."

Chrissy and Eddie giggled. They fell into a comfortable silence as Eddie inched down onto the bed like a worm.

"You okay, baby?" Chrissy asked Eddie.

"Do you need a minute, man? I get it if you do," Steve said.

"Yeah, I think I need a minute," Eddie groaned.

"Okay, well, I think I need coffee, and I'll whip us up something simple," Steve said and kissed his forehead.

He slipped out of bed, watching as Chrissy slid over to Eddie, whispering his ear and kissing his forehead as well. Chrissy rolled out of bed and slipped on one of Steve’s sweaters.

"I'll come help," Chrissy said.

Steve smiled. His blue sweater really brought out the color of her eyes, and it contrasted nicely with her strawberry blonde hair. She was beautiful. . .they both were. Chrissy took his hand and led him out of the room, giving Eddie a moment to himself to process all of it. Even with the hangover pounding away at his skull, Steve couldn't stop smiling as Chrissy helped him cook.

"So, you always thought about men and women, too?" Steve asked Chrissy.

"Yeah, I thought that was normal for everyone," Chrissy said.

"Well, I think that it's normal for people like us," Steve said. "You did say Nancy was pretty last night."

"Okay, so maybe I had a crush on her when she was on the squad," Chrissy said. "And then again briefly after everything that happened. So, I totally get why you had to get over her twice."

"Nancy Wheeler is definitely hard to get over," Steve said with a smile.

"Tell me about it," Chrissy grinned. "You weren't exactly easy to get over when I had a crush on you, too. I don't think I ever did."

"You had a crush on me?" Steve asked.

"Still do," Chrissy grinned.

"Well. . .I'm glad you never got over me," Steve said, and he smiled at her, bumping her hip with his.

Breakfast and coffee had just gotten done when Eddie stumbled into the kitchen. He was wearing Steve’s yellow sweater and nothing else. His hair was fluffed out around him like a messy dark halo. He wandered over to them. Eddie placed one hand on Steve’s hip and the other hip on Chrissy's, pressing himself up against them. He squeezed them tightly.

"You guys just go ahead and steal all of my clothes then," Steve said teasingly.

"Okay," Chrissy giggled.

"How are you doing, Eddie?" Steve asked.

"I'm very well done," Eddie said and kissed Steve’s cheek, causing Steve to giggle.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Robin's voice startled him out of his thoughts. It was two days later, and he was back at Family Video. Steve blinked, blushed, and continued stacking the video tapes.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"I thought you had been cursed for a moment, but then you started grinning like an idiot," Robin said. "I'm pretty sure you scared that old lady and her granddaughter."

"What old lady and her granddaughter?" Steve asked.

"You just talked to them for like ten minutes!" Robin exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah, them," Steve said.

"Okay, did you meet someone?" Robin asked.

"No. . .," he trailed off.

"But you hooked up," Robin said.

Steve wasn't sure why he didn't just tell her right away. Eddie and Chrissy were more than happy for him to tell Robin. Especially since she knew about him. Steve has brought it up several times that he likes men and women with Robin.

"It wasn't intentional. . .we had a little bit too much tequila, and then one thing led to another. . .it was a happy accident," Steve grinned.

"I thought you weren't interested in meaningless sex anymore," she said.

"It definitely wasn't meaningless," Steve said. "It meant something to all three of us."

"Ugh, you had a threesome?" Robin asked. "What girls did you have a "meaningful" sexscapade with?"

"That's a little judgemental even for you," Steve said, raising an eyebrow at her. "And why would you assume that it's two girls?"

Steve paused and glanced around. Yeah, the place was still empty. He glanced back at Robin, who was looking at him in confusion.

"Are you telling me that Steve Harrington, notorious ladies man, had sex with a woman AND a man?" Robin asked in disbelief.

"I don't know why you're surprised by this," Steve said. "You've known this about me."

"The hell I did!" Robin shrieked.

"I told you about the times I fooled around with some of my friends!" Steve exclaimed.

"I assumed they were girls!" Robin exclaimed.

"Yeah, okay, that might be on me. I don't think I used any pronouns," he frowned. "Okay, what about the time I went on a rant about how cute I think Tom Cruise is?"

"I thought that you were just exaggerating about how much you loved Tom Cruise and that it was one of those scenarios where if you were into men, it would be him. And you actually said that," Robin said.

"Okay, that might be on me again," Steve said. "Okay, but what about that time that I made out with that guy at that bar?"

"That was a guy?!" Robin shrieked.

"Okay, from behind, I can see why you would think he was a girl," Steve said, and then he frowned. "Wait a minute, I told you his name was James."

"I thought you said Jamie," Robin said. "Okay, that one might be on me."

"Robin, okay, I literally told you that I would have sex with anyone," Steve said.

"You did not specify that it meant men!" Robin exclaimed.

"Robin!" Steve exclaimed and slammed a tape down. "We ran into a newly reformed gay Tommy in the grocery store a while back, and we both literally told you that we used to roll around in the hay!"

"I didn't know that was a euphemism!" She shrieked.

"I told you that Vickie might be like me!" Steve told her.

"I thought you were talking about the fact that you and Vickie like Fast Times," Robin said and paused. "Okay, yeah, that one might be on me, too. Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we both dinguses?"

"Yeah, I think so," Steve said.

"Okay. . .suddenly, everything is making fucking sense," Robin said and shook her head. "So, these people that you meaningfully slept with. . .do you think it might become serious?"

"Yeah," Steve said, biting his lip. "I think so. They figured I would tell you, so they're okay with this. It's Eddie and Chrissy."

"Well, it's a good thing that I canceled," Robin said and paused. "You three really make so much sense. You spend so much time with them already."

"So. . .still feeling down since Vickie moved away?" Steve asked.

"No, actually, things are looking up," Robin said, blushing. "I mean, I'll always miss her. She was my first girlfriend, but I got that she wanted to be with her dad, especially after his mother died. We're friends now, though, or getting there, anyway."

"Is there someone else?" Steve asked.

Robin sighed with relief as the bell above the door rang. Eddie and Chrissy bounced into the store.

"Slow day?" Eddie asked.

"It's looking up," Steve smiled.

"Judging by the way that Robin is looking at us, she knows," Eddie said, looking amused.

"Oh, yeah, and now she knows for sure that I'm not straight," Steve said.

"I thought she knew," Chrissy said.

"Yeah, I thought she knew, too," Steve said.

"I'm. . . I'm a dingus," Robin said. "I'm happy for you, guys."

"Thanks," Eddie said, laughing.

"We really missed you," Chrissy said and kissed Steve.

Eddie gave a look around the store before giving Steve a quick kiss as well.

"It's been two days," Steve blushed.

"The heart wants what it wants," Eddie grinned.

Robin smiled and moved to stand behind the counter.

"You up for a break yet?" Chrissy asked, biting her lip as she slipped a hand into his back pocket.

"Not yet," Steve said. "Soon, though."

"Damn, we came prepared to have our way with you," Eddie said and cupped Chrissy's face, squeezing her cheeks. "How can you say no to this face?"

"It's the rules," Steve said as Eddie put his hand in Steve's other back pocket.

"Fuck the rules," Eddie whispered in his ear.

"Look, just because I know about this and is more than okay with it doesn't mean that I want to want to watch you two fuck my best friend in the place where we work."

"Boo," Chrissy laughed.

"Come on, Chrissy, let's look for a movie, and Steve can admire us from afar," Eddie said.

Steve smiled as he watched them walk away. He felt very giddy. He bit his lip as he finished up stacking the video tapes.

"I don't know how you're getting any work done today," Robin said.

"Tell me about it," Steve said as he moved back to the counter with Robin, his eyes following his partners' movements.

"Oh, you're done for already. Smitten like a kitten," Robin said. "I like seeing this on you."

"Me too," Steve said.

"You know, I never thought you'd ever move on from Nancy," Robin said.

"I think a little part of me will always be there, but I'm glad we got to be together one last time. I feel like we both got the closure we needed," Steve said.

"Really?" Robin asked.

"Oh, yeah," Steve said.

"I wasn't sick!" Robin blurted out.

"What?" Steve asked.

"When I was supposed to hang out with you three. . .I was really hanging out with Nancy," Robin said.

"Nancy?" He asked.

"Yeah," Robin said, looking at him nervously. "Nothing happened! I doubt it will because I don't she'll ever feel the same way about me. . .but I wanted to see if you would be okay with it if something ever did happen."

"Robin, you don't need my permission," Steve said, looking worried.

"Of course, I don't need your permission. This isn't about that. It's about loyalty. If I can't take your feelings into account over something as important as this and treat them as something that matters, then how can I possibly do the same thing with a romantic partner? Their feelings need to be just as important as yours because you mean the world to me, Steve Harrington," Robin said. "And I don't want to be with anyone who doesn't understand that. Vickie understood it, and now, I think Nancy does, too."

"I love you, Robin, and there's always going to be this part of me that will love Nancy, but I think you two would be great together," Steve said. "It kind of makes sense that we would end up falling for the same girl."

"It really does," Robin sniffled. "I'm madly, platonically in love with you, dingus."

"I'm madly, platonically in love with you, too. . .dingus," Steve said, and she laughed.

"And you know, if things do fall apart. . . Then we'll always have each other, right?" Robin asked.

"Right. . .I don't think you're going to get any work done today," Steve smirked.

The bell above the door rang, and Nancy came in. She beamed at Robin, who smiled bashfully. Steve grinned. Look at them. . .getting a happy ending. It was one that neither one had expected, but it was definitely the happiest of accidents. Thank god for Tequila.

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profectua · 11 months ago

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》ＢＬＵＥＬＯＣＫＨｅａｄｃａｎｏｎｓ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; ɴᴏɴᴇ! ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ɪꜱᴀɢɪ, ʙᴀᴄʜɪʀᴀ, ᴄʜɪɢɪʀɪ, ᴋᴜɴɪɢᴀᴍɪ, ɴᴀɢɪ, ʀᴇᴏ, ʙᴀʀᴏᴜ, ʀɪɴ, ʜɪᴏʀɪ, ᴋᴀʀᴀꜱᴜ, ʏᴜᴋɪᴍɪʏᴀ, ᴏᴛᴏʏᴀ

Isagi: Back when he was younger, he had a phase where he would do the dab whenever he scored a goal. It could be completely outdated too and people would cringe at him LMAO. Might’ve also done fortnite dance (he doesn’t even play fortnite). His teammates try to go over and celebrate but he randomly breaks into the orange justice (he can’t even do it properly) so they end up just standing there like 🧍. Let him have his moment I guess???

Bachira: He was one of those kids that played with insects outside or something (speaking from experience) 😭. You’d catch him playing outside and there were 3 worms, each with different names. He probably gave them sad backstories too. The neighbors thought he was weird as hell. If someone pointed it out, he’d be like “Stop being rude to them! They’re my friends!” And he’d actually look pissed off, exactly like this emoji 😠. If he comes back to the same spot only to find that they aren’t there, he’ll come home crying 😭 🙏 Please help him.

Chigiri: He’s canonically a moody guy…I feel like he ‘decides’ his mood for the day ykyk 😭. If it’s a clear sky, sunny day, he’ll choose to be happy but if he wakes up and it’s raining, he decides that he’s gonna be angry. Always ends up breaking character though. If he's laughing and suddenly remembers that he's supposed to be angry, he’ll immediately put on a blank expression again like 😐 and the people around him think they did something wrong LMAOO. Like??? What happened bro???

Kunigami: His go-to pose for photos is the thumbs up or the peace sign and HE LOOKS SO STIFF. He’s just there like 🙂 ✌️. He looks so awkward pls 😭. His little sister is trying so hard not to laugh and he’s just like ???? What's so funny?? If he’s accidentally photo-bombing and realises too late, he’ll strike that EXACT POSE until someone tells him to move cus his brain couldn’t process it ITS SO SAD 😭

Nagi: Once, when he was younger, he tried doing one of those free robux application things where you play a bunch of games for robux and he thought it was legit because some youtuber did it. His parents were like “Seishiro what are you even doing” and he was like “I’m grinding robux mom, you wouldn’t understand” Like Nagi…don’t even get your hopes up 😬. Long story short, it didn’t work and he ended up with some virus on his ipad. He woke his parents up at 3am and was like “um…I think I got hacked ☹️” His parents WERE NOT pleased 😭

Reo: Had a little rebellious phase where he only used cringey Gen Z slang. In front of his parents too and they’d stare at him like 😨. “Zamn ngl this food is bussin’ fr goated no cap,” said young Reo, at a luxurious 5-star restaurant. His mom almost choked on her food. Probably got side-eyed by the waiter too. He didn’t even realise that it wasn’t cool until he found out that NOBODY actually says all that 😭.

Barou: When he’s eating other people's food or eating at a restaurant, he judges it like he’s Gordan Ramsey or something??? Imagine he’s at someone's house for dinner and then when they’re eating he has this whole routine. First he sniffs, feels the texture, then he examines with his eyes, and finally starts eating. You’ll tell if he likes it or not from his expressions 💀 He’ll start interrogating too LMAO. He’d be like “What kind of spice is this?” “How much salt did you add?” HE’S NOT PLAYING YALL.

Rin: Took elementary dodgeball SERIOUSLY. He’d yell at his teammates. Losing? Not on his watch. “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! IT’S DODGE BALL NOT GET HIT IN THE FACE BALL YOU LOSER!”. If he ever lost a game in PE, he’d start crying and throwing a fit, all while blaming his teammates. He would act like an angel if Sae was there though LMAO.

Hiori: He tries to re-enact cool moves from video games. Like if there's a character that has a cool playstyle he’ll literally hop out of his gaming chair just to swing a spatula around 😭. He got the sound effects goin on too, you can hear little pews and booms. Or if there’s a specific voice line from the final boss that he thinks sounds cool he’ll say it out loud (sometimes his parents hear and they think that he’s lost it not that they care though.)

Karasu: He had a huge chess.com phase, probably in middle school. But he was that one kid that goes ‘I wasn’t even trying tho lol’ when he lost (behind the screen he is SCREAMING in rage). ALSO He’s the type to be super expressive (kinda like Barou) 😭. You’ll know when he’s judging you cus’ his face will go 😬 😲 ☹️ 😧 🤔 in that order 💀. He could say something but his expressions reveal all there is.

Yukimiya: When he first got his glasses, he probably forgot them a lot LOL. Like he’d show up to football practice without them and one of his teammates would go “Yo where’s your glasses, Yukki?” and he’d be like…oh yeah. There was probably one point where he thought his eyesight was getting better. He woke up one morning and just decided that he suddenly felt like he had good vision again. It was all in his head 💀.

Otoya: He once tried hitting on a girl when her boyfriend WAS RIGHT THERE and he didn’t even notice. Let’s just say he ran for his life. His older sister has a video recording of it and uses it as blackmail. Worst of all he genuinely thought he could've ‘stolen’ her from him 😭 LIKE OTOYA NO. 😭

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #chigiri hyoma #kunigami rensuke #rin itoshi #nagi seishiro #reo mikage #barou shouei #hiori yo #otoya eita #yukimiya kenyu #karasu tabito

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thekinkyleopard · 6 months ago

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Oopsie Daisies

An Al X Kanai Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning:⚠️

Force Induce, Allergies, Snz, Smut

Description: This fic is loosely based off the following prompt by @hetchiew

Author’s Notes: So because I’m a big ball of chaotic stress from all the curve balls life is hitting me with I’ve decided to try to write a short snz fic based off a prompt given to me by @aller-geez something easy to work with. Hope yall are thirsty for some Hell Boys 🫡 Kanai is owned by Geezie and she did the cover art as always 🥰🫶🏻

Just another day, a Wednesday, the apartment was quiet and all that could be heard was the light scuffle of pacing feet as Alistar tried to come up with a plan for the day. The red headed demon was feeling antsy, on one, like he couldn’t rest until there was sin surrounding him. It had been weeks since he’d pulled any antics or crazy schemes out from under his sleeves, he’s feeling, empty..restless. The anti-Christ scratches his chin wearily, deep in thought as he shuffled through the filing cabinet of trouble installed within his brain.

“Morning Donnie,” suddenly snapped from his trance as he turns to meet eye contact with his best friend.

“Nai,” he nods in response, looking the hound up and down as the gears started turning slowly in his corrupted head. Draeko was still asleep from a long night with his best friend Levi, but Kanai was up and ready for the day, already showered and dressed as he shuffled through the freezer for the blood worms he fed his salt waters every morning. “Hey, bud, whatcha up to?” Alistar asked casually as he leaned up against the entrance way of their small kitchen.

“Hm? Just caring for the aquatics this morning, is there something you need, Donnie?” The navy haired man turned to look at his best friend with the freezer door still opened, an empty, distance stare from his heterochromatic gaze.

“I’m considering it,” the red eyed demon looked the man up and down, a hungry gleam hidden behind his observant leer.

“Oh? Well, do let me know how I can help,” Kanai nods once before turning to his search, reaching in to pull out the packet of worms, closing the door and beginning the process of separating out the servings for his fish. Once he finished his first steps in the process he began to trail back into his room quietly, Al following closely behind him.

Alistar observed Kanai's every move with an intense focus, his eyes tracking each precise motion as if committing them to memory. He found himself oddly drawn to the meticulous way in which Kanai handled the delicate creatures in his care, a stark contrast to Alistar's own chaotic and impulsive nature.

As Kanai carefully sprinkled the bloodworms into the aquarium, the red head crept closer, his curiosity piqued by the colorful array of fish darting eagerly towards their meal. He watched as Kanai's expression softened, a rare moment of peace settling over his features as he gazed at the underwater world he had been cultivating.

Unable to resist the temptation to disrupt this tranquility, Alistar reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, casually lighting it with a smirk playing on his lips. The acrid smoke wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of saltwater and bloodworms.

Kanai's sharp inhale was suddenly stuttered as he found it difficult to breathe amongst the tainted air. His chest suddenly tight and his nose suddenly very itchy. “A-Alistar….Y-you know I can’t st-stand that sme-HEH..’Kkssshuuh! kngt’SHHEW!” It exploded out of him unexpectedly, a cloud of saliva sprinkling the space in front of them.

Alistar's smirk widened at the familiar sound of Kanai's sudden sneeze attack, a sure sign that his allergies were being triggered by the smoke. He tried to act innocent, as if he had simply forgotten about Kanai's sensitivities, but deep down he relished in the damage he was causing. His excitement grew as he thought about how much worse he could make it, the heat rising within him like a smoldering fire.

As Kanai struggled to regain his composure, Alistar nonchalantly took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around him like a sinister dance. The hound’s nose twitched and scrunched as it tickled his sensibilities…he inhaled just barely and another set came flying loosely out of his mouth. Spittle flying freely in the air to Alistar’s entertainment. “huh’KIISSHH’ah! Eh’Kgsssshii!” Al watched with a predatory gleam in his eyes as Kanai's face reddened and itched in discomfort, trying to clear the air with a few quick swipes of his hand.

"Oopsie Daisies, my bad," Alistar feigned innocence, his voice silky smooth with an underlying edge of mischief. "I guess I forgot about your allergy there Nai, apologies,” he chuckled loosely taking another long drag before putting it out on his tongue. “Let me go get you some tissue hm?” he swallowed the rancid mixture of ash and tobacco down his throat without so much as a wince, placing the rest of the stoge in the pack to be relit later.

Alistar left the room with a sly smile playing on his lips, a plan already forming in his mind. He made his way down the hallway to his own room, where he kept a small vial of chhinkni powder tucked away in a secret compartment. “It’s time…” he whispered sinisterly to himself. The powder was rare and potent, known for causing intense sneezing fits when inhaled. As he carefully sprinkled a pinch of the chhinkni powder onto a tissue, Alistar couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the thought of what was to come. “This is going to be so fucking awesome…” snickering almost inaudibly. He had been saving this powder for a special occasion, and what better time to use it than now?

With the laced tissue in hand, Alistar made his way back to Kanai's room, his steps light and silent as he approached. He knocked on the door before pushing it open, revealing Kanai still struggling to rid the room of the lingering smoke and his insistent sneezes. “iihGUSHou!” it burst out of him the moment the red head walked back into the space.

"Hey Nai, got you that tissue you needed,” Alistar held out the tainted material with a falsely sympathetic smile, his eyes glinting mischievously as he watched Kanai's expression shift from confusion to suspicion. Without a word, and despite his better judgement, Kanai reached out to take the tissue, his movements slow and deliberate as if he sensed something was amiss.

As soon as Kanai's fingers made contact with the laced tissue, and he brought it within an inch of his nose, a violent sneeze ripped through his body, doubling him over with the force of it. "hIH’IKTSHhh'uuhh!” Kanai staggered back against the one bare wall in his room, his eyes wide with shock as the fit consumed him in a relentless storm, electricity jolting to the tips of his toes and fingers. “Hih’KSSSSHH’uh!”

Alistar couldn't contain his grin while he watched Kanai struggle against the relentless attack on his sensitive reddening nose, each convulsion wracking his body mercilessly. The red-headed demon felt a rush of exhilaration at the mess he had unleashed, the thrill of seeing his best friend crumble at the work of his hands, he could feel himself harden in his already tight jeans. “You’re so fucking hot like that..” he licked his lips stepping closer to the hound who looked as though he was trying to fight away another oncoming storm.

“D-Donnie p-please stay back I’ll….KNGT’ssHEW!” out burst a plume of wet, sticky mist that made direct contact with Alistar’s approaching face. The red eyed demon grinned and brought his thumb up to wipe the mess off his chin, only to stick it in his mouth and groan.

“Delicious,” he cooed darkly, his voice thick and smooth like expensive chocolate. While he licked his thumb clean, Alistar's gaze dropped with desire watching Kanai's struggle intensify. The force and power he held over his best friend ignited a fire within him, primal and intoxicating. With a predatory grace, he moved closer to Kanai, the air between them charged with tension and unspoken lusts. Al looked hungrily at the other as he placed both his hands at either side of the man’s head on the wall behind them.

Kanai's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety at the dangerous game Al was playing. Deep down, a part of him relished in the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, even as his body continued to convulse with each sneeze that wracked his frame. He would rather cut off every limb on his body than admit it out loud, however.

Alistar's hand reached out to tilt Kanai's chin up, his touch surprisingly gentle against the chaos he had wrought. "You're so delightful in your vulnerability, Nai," he murmured, his voice low and husky with need as his lips and teeth snapped at the hound’s mouth, a teasing gesture. "Such beauty while you huff, puff and drip from your mouth…” he swiped his thumb just under the hound’s moistened lip. “I am ever so hungry, my friend,” the sentence came out in a dangerously low tone that Kanai was all too familiar.

Kanai's breath caught in his throat at Alistar's sudden proximity, the air around them crackling with a dangerous energy that left him feeling both exhilarated and terrified. He sniffled nervously, but also because he was still fighting the urges against him, the powder still lingering in Al’s closed fist just next to him. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within him, his body betraying him with its response to the demon before him. “D-Donnie…” he tried to reason but was met with a side smirk that immediately caused him to pause.

As Alistar's thumb traced under his lip, Kanai felt a shiver run down his spine, his skin tingling at the soft touch. Despite the chaos and discomfort that still gripped him, there was an undeniable pull towards the red-headed demon that he couldn't quite explain, there always had been. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts, the line between discomfort and arousal blurring in the haze of lingering sneezes and unspoken tension.

Alistar leaned in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to Kanai's own, a predatory glint in his eyes that sent a thrill of anticipation through the hound's trembling form, and yet he stood back, only to cuff his closed fist around the other’s nose, holding the tainted tissue within his palm, and pushed it up against his best friend’s nostrils with a force that took the hound by surprise.

Kanai's bright blue and brown eyes widened in shock as the chhinkni powder reached his nose, invading his senses with a sharp, pungent sting that made his head spin. He gasped, trying to turn away, but Alistar's grip on him was firm and unyielding.

The demon’s laughter rang out, dark and twisted, as he watched Kanai's face contort in a mix of surprise and discomfort. Watching his nose stretch and twist, eyes squinting shut to fight against it. The sneezing fit that followed was like nothing Kanai had ever experienced before - each convulsion wracked his entire body, making him double over in agony, kept up soley by the weight of the other. “hIH’IKTSHhh’uuuh!! Kngt’SHHEW! iihGUSH!” His chest tightened, his throat burned, and his eyes watered uncontrollably as he fought the relentless onslaught.

Through tear-blurred vision, Kanai could see Alistar's twisted grin, the gleam of sadistic pleasure in his crimson eyes. The demon seemed to revel in Kanai's suffering, feeding off his pain like a predator savoring its prey. Nai’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, betrayal, and an unsettling thrill that coursed through his veins despite the discomfort wracking his body. As each sneeze ripped through him, he felt a tiny piece of himself chipped away, replaced by something darker and more primal. “hih’KKSSHHHuh!" KnGT!”

Alistar's grip on the tainted tissue tightened, the powder coating his own fingers as he pressed it against Kanai's nose with a cruel persistence that sent shockwaves of agony through the hound's already tortured body. “I love the sweet sweet sounds you make Nai…those little whimpers that follow…be a good boy for me now,” The room spun around the navy haired man, the walls closing in on him as if to trap him in this nightmare with the demon before him.

“D-Donn—HEh’kksssshuuh!!” succumbing again to the substance wreaking havoc inside of him. He snuffled loudly. “SNdfF!!” trying desperately to clear himself of the tingling sensation that ran up and down the bridge of his nose like when one’s foot falls asleep. “Pl-ease….” he whimpered loosely. “I surr-…surrend…EH’KGSSSSHiH!…er” pleading with any ounce of humanity that may be some where hidden inside the red head.

“Oh, but Nai…” The demon clicked his tongue sarcastically. “Why would I do that? I’m having so much fun..you look and sound soooo fucking sexy…just let me have a few more…hm? I’ll even do all the work..” he snickered with a bite of his lower lip. Alistar's taunting words echoed in Kanai's ears, each syllable twisting the knife of helplessness and arousal deeper into his already-tortured soul.

The hound's body convulsed with another violent explosion “hh’KSHHh’hiew!” his chest heaving as he struggled to draw in a breath amidst the overwhelming sensation of the chhinkni powder still living within him. He felt powerless against the demon's cruel game, his will bending under the weight of Alistar's sadistic pleasure. The red head moaned audibly, licking his lips now as he began to rub the growing bulge of his pants against Kanai’s long slender leg.

“Good boy, Nai, such a good boy,” the hound couldnt fucking help that prodding excitement he felt rising within his own groin as his friend began to rut and rub against him. Cursing himself and his innate carnal desires, before pushing his leg just up enough to aid in further friction. The navy haired men then stuttered, like something caught in his throat, that same electrifying feeling of static rushing down the front of his sinuses.

“hIH’KTSHHh’uuh! Eh’KgGss!” it released again, spittle flying past the bottom of the tissue held against his face and into Alistar’s own lust laden features.

“Shit…” he cursed, his breath labored as his hips began to snap at a faster pace, rubbing himself against the other’s thigh as if his life depended on it. His whole weight of body pressing up against Kanai for support with now his ear right next to the hound’s exploding mouth. His grip on the other’s face tightened, pushing the tissue against his friend so tight that the hound was almost certain he’d be cursed for the rest of the week. “Just a few more…” Alistar grunted behind gritted teeth.

“Hh’Ksssshuuh! hIH’KTssHh! Kngt’ShHeW!” they were sporadic, forced, and seemingly never-ending. The sneezes, a symphony of sound and sensation, tore through Kanai's nasal passages like a wild windstorm, each one building upon the last, until they reached a crescendo of pure, unadulterated chaos. The room was filled with an intoxicating blend of snot, spittle, and chhinkni powder, and each sneeze created a miniature tornado of perfumed air that danced around the two figures entwined in their dark, twisted game.

The swirling haze of particles encircling them took on a life of its own, forming a thin layer against the red head’s exposed skin that glistened in the right lighting before drying out. “I’m going to fucking cum unholy shit…” Al struggled through his ragged breath as his body was continuing to rut up against the other’s stiffened thigh, with just the right force and finesse…

“iihGUSHou! hIh’KtssH’hiew!” Unable to keep them away, the powder scraping and clawing its way up every cell inside his nose just made the hound worse and worse. Every sneeze set off another series of involuntary spasms, his body shaking against the other, as if his entire soul was fighting to expel the foreign substance that had infiltrated his defenses. With each shuddering breath, Kanai could feel his sinuses throbbing in time with the constant explosions and the chhinkni powder scraping against his nasal cavities. The redhead's own shudders and thrusts against him seemed to heighten the intensity of the situation, his friend's body writhing with every spasm.

The hound felt as though he were being torn apart from the inside out, his consciousness pulled further and further into the depths of his own lewd desires and the addictive draw of Alistair's sinister pleasure. Despite his best efforts, his own arousal surged within him, matching the rapid pace of his friend's hips as they moved against each other. Each of their legs standing in as a beacon of usage. They sloppily and roughly dry humped each other while the hound twitched and lurched under the pressure of the substance. “KNGT’SSHHEWW!” another loud, forceful and wet sneeze came flying out from his mouth into the cavity of Al’s ear drum, both of them reaching a boiling point they could no longer resist.

“FUCK!” Alistar cursed loudly, grunting with force as his body pushed forward and he came hard inside his boxers, almost silently chuckling afterwards with a breathless sound. Kanai, following closely behind, reached his peak at the feeling of his best friend’s spasming against him. With mercy, the red head pulled the tissue away at last. There was a short sense of relief.

Al collapsed onto the hound, his chest heaving and his entire being drenched in a sweaty, musky glow from their intense exchange. His eyes were heavy and glassy, his mind staggering from the adrenaline surge, the pleasure, and the sheer madness of what had just transpired. “Shit…that was fucking….awesome…” he let out a breathless chortle.

Kanai, still trembling from the aftermath, gulped in a few breaths, trying to parse everything that had just happened. He blinked hard, attempting to make sense of the memories that were now fuzzing in his mind, a blend of pleasure and torment. He finally felt like he could breathe fresh air again, with just a lingering hint of the powder making it’s way out of his system. He may need to do a flush. “That was…..unexpected…and slightly cruel…” Kanai managed between gasps.

With a weak smile, Alistar leaned in closer to his friend, their foreheads touching, the sweat from their bodies mingling as they both tried to catch their breath. The silence stretched thick and heavy between them, a testament to the darkness they had just danced with.

Slowly, the red head regained his strength and took a step back, the two of them composing themselves before taking a deep breath of air. “MAN! I needed that…I’m gonna go hop in the shower, wanna wake up the pet and make him wash us off?” Alistar spoke with his usual charismatic swagger, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re an incredibly insatiable creature, Alistar…” Kanai muttered, his voice still heavy with the after effects of their encounter. “But yes, I suppose a shower might be… necessary,” looking himself up and down feeling the grime of their deeds finally settling upon him.

“Draeeeeee~” The red head already started singing, making his way from the room as he leapt into action, ready and willing for more depraved and devious acts of carnal sin.

The End

Author’s Notes: Took me two days of sitting and actually trying to force myself to write but I fucking did the thing. 🫡 hope you guys enjoyed I know it was a bit shorter and less intense than what I do for smut but I still thought it was hot 😏

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 months ago

Note

"Its cold you should take my jacket" with krobus mayhaps? I just think its a cute mental image BVNJ

Maybe theyre goin outside durin winter, and sure shadow people probably arent as effected by the cold but maybe it could still be a sweet gesture (the reader is going to freeze to death mild mistakes were made unless they're just the kinda person to go out in the winter shorts/joke)

-salt anon

YEAH Krobus time <3

Notes: Farmer and Krobus are established as roommates.

................

"The crocus are blooming nicely this winter...oh! Hello, little worms!"

Standing just a few feet away, you kept an eye out for any villager who might be walking around at this late hour, acting like a bodyguard for Krobus.

The last thing you wanted was for someone to freak out at his mere existence on the surface.

Ever since befriending the lonely shadow monster from the sewers, your perspective on his people (as well as most other monsters) changed drastically, opening up your eyes to the truth: that not all of them were violent brutes and assassins armed with crossbows and dark magic.

He was the first peaceful one you've come across, and he became the reason you try to avoid fighting any shadow people in the mines. Even if they became aggressive, you knew they were only acting defensively, never turning hostile unless you approached them first.

Of course, if you saw a human come charging at you with a sword or hammer...you'd be scared for your life, too. And if you had the means to protect yourself, you'd use them.

Krobus was once a fighter himself, until he decided to abandon those ways after the elemental wars, finding displeasure with his life beneath the surface. No longer could he find sanctuary in a place so terribly hot and miserable, fearing that an adventurer or Dwarf assassins will come slay what remained of his people. Thus, he laid down arms and took up becoming a humble merchant, living quietly and waiting patiently.

What he was exactly waiting for...he didn't know at the time.

But after you somehow found his little shop, checked on him after a fight with one such Dwarf, and presented him with the void ghost pendant....he finally realized what he wanted all along.

Companionship.

Something that he didn't expect to find in a human, of all creatures.

Yet on that fateful day, things changed for him yet again.

They were bigger, better, and the type of change that he needed for so long.

He never thought you'd like him as a housemate. After all, his existence alone was frightening to humans. He thought his wares would creep you out, or his strange habit of eating all the houseflies. He thought he'd be a burden on days where he wanted to help around your farm, but the humidity wasn't quite right and the air was a tad bit too dry for his skin. And he was convinced that touching your chickens and slimes would infect them with void energy and "ruin" Yoba's image of them.

There was even a time when he stood in front of your grandpa's shrine the night he moved in, asking aloud if he'd approve of this "living arrangement".

A year later, you two were still happily together, on the eve of the Winter Star festival, searching for the perfect crocus to put into his room's garden pot.

How he managed to order that online on your farm computer was beyond you..although he did mention Dwarf lending him a manual on how to operate such a device.

It seems they were finally willing to put the past behind them, albeit at no point did they ever mention fully forgiving each other, which was understandable.

"May I?" Bringing out the hoe, you looked to Krobus, who nodded and quietly shuffled away from the worms. You scraped the ground with your tool, unearthing-

"Another creepy doll, great.." You picked up the dirty, snow-covered toy. Its blue shirt and brown pants had only a few tiny tears in them, and the beady black eyes were seemingly staring into your soul. "Why do the people in this town leave these everywhere? Is it some ritual for them to be buried around the valley and found years later?"

"Hmm..I couldn't tell you." The shadow monster chuckled a little. "But they do bear resemblance to the dolls Dwarves have made for their children. Maybe they'd appreciate it as a gift......or it may be a grim reminder of what they've lost in the war..." His curl drooped a little.

"I gave them a green doll once, and they liked it. So it could be a good gift." You placed the doll in your bag, before turning back to Krobus. "Speaking of which...we could try attending the feast together. You could come in your usual disguise and-"

"I can't."

"......"

"Sorry, that sounded harsher than I intended." He meekly spoke, looking down at the snowy ground. "But going to the movies with you was nerve-wracking enough. Some of your friends were there..watching me, wondering who I was. To attend a festival with all of their eyes on us...I...I'm just afraid. If the guild master spotted me.....oh, Yoba."

Unwilling to finish, Krobus shuddered and hugged his body self-consciously. But at that same moment, the wind picked up, making him shiver a little bit more.

It made you frown, wishing he didn't look so distressed...and cold.

Poor thing.

Then an idea sprung on you, and you realized you could solve one of those problems right now.

He heard rustling and looked up, confused as to why you were shrugging off your jacket. "Huh? Why are you shedding....?"

"It's cold, you should take my jacket." Smiling, you wrapped it around his shoulders, seeing that it didn't totally envelop his body like his trenchcoat disguise did.

Almost right away Krobus picked up familiar scents on it: horseradish and pumpkin. Two of his favorite things.

Despite the smells being pleasant, he was absolutely bewildered by your kind gesture--and it turned into grave concern as he noticed the goosebumps already forming on your arms and legs. "[Y/n], my people are used to temperatures of either extreme. But yours aren't..are you sure you don't need-?"

"Krobus, I think we can both agree that I'm not like most of "my people."" You laughed gently, shaking your head. "I've worked outside on the hottest summer days and the coldest winter nights. I've been inside the ice castle of the mines and at the top of the volcano dungeon. This cold doesn't bother me anymore. I'm wearing shorts for Yoba's sake. I'll survive without my jacket for a few minutes as long as it helps you feel better. Is it...helping you?"

"...as a matter of fact, this does help. Thank you, my friend." He smiled back, feeling more at ease knowing you weren't gonna freeze to death at his expense. "I'll admit that the warm sewers have made me less accustomed to the chill of winter, but when it comes around..I try to sneak outside as often as I can."

"Maybe one day, you won't have to sneak around anymore, and everyone here can see you've been a great roommate of mine." Patting his head with your gloved hand, you chuckled as he perked up. "And...hopefully our blacksmith can stop asking me to beat up your skeleton friends. I'm starting to think he's running into them on purpose."

"It sickens me how many times I've seen that advertisement." He scowled. "The Skeletons don't make the mines dangerous...it's their home! They just want to be left in peace, with the riches they've guarded in life and now guard in death." Then he relaxed his shoulders, looking to you. "Thank you for not accepting anymore of his contracts."

"Of course, but..what about the wizard's contracts? I had to put some Ghosts to rest because he claims they're "upsetting the balance of the elements". I know they must be your friends, too."

"That's different..if an overabundance of creatures threaten to upset the elements, then they should be taken care of." Krobus nodded, still looking rather grim. "It's unpleasant, but necessary to ensure one species doesn't dominate the rest. Killing monsters so it's "safer" to strip the mines for gold and gems...is not necessary."

"I see." You nodded, looking around and spotting a nearby holly on the ground. Picking it up, you smiled and showed it to him, hoping to lighten the mood. "Another human tradition during this season involves holly. We hang it above our doorsteps, and whoever is under it should kiss. But...I don't think people in this town are familiar with it."

"Ah, how fascinating..." He looked at the plant in your hands, watching you stow it away into your backpack. "I never knew so much about humans until you came along, [y/n]."

"There's a lot to us. We're a..very complex species." You shrugged, before checking the time and realizing it was almost midnight. "Shoot. We should head back soon. I still gotta find something for my secret gift-giver."

"Maybe I can help you." He offered. "It's the least I could do, since I sadly cannot attend."

"I would enjoy it more if you could come, but I'll bring you back some pumpkin pie. And maybe we could...do our own little secret gift-giving?"

"That would be wonderful." Krobus beamed, feeling you wrap your hand around his clawed one, huddling close as you both headed back to the farmhouse..

Your home, which was now his home as well.

He thanked Yoba everyday that he got to share it with you.

#i love him RAHHHH #clanask #salt anon #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv krobus #sdv krobus x reader #krobus x reader #angst/fluff prompt #platonic

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auspicioustidings · 1 year ago

Text

Lost Boys

1. Horror Fan

Summary: Shameless COD Lost Boys AU as an excuse to try writing some smut because @ohbo-ohno has been killing me.

Words: 3.7k

CW: Dubcon bordering on noncon, rough sex

One thing about Santa Carla she could not stomach? All the damn locals.

She was used to working in Coney Island and she had thought this boardwalk out in California wouldn't be much different. She had been immediately proven wrong when she had arrived a week ago, moving in to a falling apart cabin out on the edge of town that Keegan had sworn up and down would be her dream home if she was willing to fix it up. He hadn't really explained how he came to own the place, but then he was the definition of a carny if she ever knew there to be one. She was pretty sure there wasn't one amusement park that man had not worked at, although conversations always seemed to draw back to Santa Carla.

It wasn't like his charming convincing had been the only reason she'd found herself here. She loved Coney Island, had practically grown up on the Thunderbolt, was damn near inconsolable when they shut it 5 years ago. But Coney Island now was not the same as the one she grew up with, everyone who worked there felt it. The rides were falling apart, closing or being torn down. Two people she knew had been shot this year alone. The place turned into an open air brothel at night it felt like, and not in the fun way back when it had all been music and moonlight and sex and rock and roll. It was sad.

Plus she was dirt poor, the decline of the amusements meaning she wasn't picking up as much work. If Keegan had wormed his way into her head with all his talk about how dangerous a neighbourhood she lived in, how much safer an actual house would be, how if someone would renovate it he wouldn't even charge rent because it would really help him out since he was currently travelling, well then she had been stupid enough not to pick up on the obvious trap.

Falling apart and very eerily decorated cabin aside, her first day on the Boardwalk felt like a series of increasing red flags. She loved the scent of the place, the bright cars grinding against their chains as they were dragged bodily up to the summit of the coaster under the hot sun, the sticky sweetness of candy apples being cut through with the salt the surfers dragged with them from the sea, the slight undertone of something mischievous, something even sinister. Any boardwalk she had been to had that same undercurrent, the same lurking sense of danger that sent her heartbeat running in excitement. This one it was dialled all the way to 11.

"Oi chiquita! I've not seen you around here before."

She turned. Surfer, well 2 of them actually. The one who had spoken was older than her in a way that really made his handsomeness cause her to scold herself. No sleeping with older men on your first day in a new city, even if the accent was like molasses. The one next to him was younger. Both incredible looking if she was honest, Keegan had not been kidding when he had said the people in Santa Carla were deathly attractive.

"Maybe I'm a tourist" she replied.

"Ah a pretty thing like you visiting all alone? You'll get eaten right up" said the other, both of them looking at her with an amusement over a joke she was not in on.

"Good thing I'm so bitter then, reckon I'll get spat right back out."

They laughed and she kept a light look of friendly amusement on her face, internally thinking that these guys were rude as fuck. She near jumped out of her skin when she felt a breath at her neck, whipping her head around to find a female surfer had sniffed at her throat.

"Ella huele dulce, ella sabrá más dulce" the newcomer purred.

"Atrás Valeria" the older man snapped.

"You're so up tight Alejandro" Valeria laughed meanly before turning to look at her, eyes dragging up and down in heated appraisal. "If you get bored of them, you'll come find me won't you dalzura?"

With that the woman sauntered off towards the beach, all arrogance and sex appeal. It wasn't like she hadn't heard her fair share of pick-up lines and come ons, it was practically a given when you worked at places like these, but it was rarer for a woman to come on to her and rarer still for the woman to have such an aggression about her. She'd be lying if it didn't cause a little spark of excitement to zip up her spine.

Alejandro and the other man watched Valeria go with something like suspicion.

"Be careful after dark, the boardwalk gets crowded with all sorts" the younger man said with a knowing wink.

"If you're still around tomorrow in the sunshine, me and Rudy will be on the waves" Alejandro added before they both took off after Valeria, seemingly intent on getting into some sort of fight.

Odd trio she thought, but most people who lived near places like this were. The locals only got odder as the day went on.

An absolute giant of a man in a hood whose eyes had narrowed in on her when she passed him, an exhibit in a freak show. The chains on him must have been for show, but the way they strained when he had lunged at her actually did make her jump.

The Southern man who seemed to have some sort of control over all of the game stalls, told her when she had tried out the ring toss that his shadows had been telling him she had won most of the games she had tried but not taken any prizes. It ran a chill up her spine the way he eyed her when he introduced himself, the name Graves spilling off his tongue like whisky.

The one who actually gave her a job, Alex, seemed normal enough, the only thing out of the ordinary being a false leg. Well normal enough until it became apparent he was very knowledgeable about Santa Carla being the murder capital of the world. She didn't like that he spoke about it like it was something exciting, but as long as she had money in hand to operate a carousel she could overlook his quirks. He told her she could work the evening shift after watching her carefully run through things, proving that this was all familiar to her. This one had brass rings, she knew she'd probably spend her evening ducking out of the way of them when rowdy ride goers decided they would rather hit someone than redeem the ring for a free ride.

With the last wash of sunlight she wandered the shops around the area, sliding into a video store just as night fell to see if she couldn't find something to watch when she would get home after her first shift. Maybe Hellraiser was out on VHS now, she had missed it in the theatre and Keegan had told her it was fun.

"Hello there. John Price, how can I help?"

Back in New York it wasn't uncommon to hear a British accent, but this was the first one she had heard here. The man it came from was tall and had a hell of a beard. Bit eccentric looking with a fishing hat on his head, but with the people she was coming across today that seemed par for the course.

"Hi sir! Is Hellraiser out yet?" she asked as politely as she could muster. She knew that she was as much a carny as Keegan and that it tended to make respectable older people intensely dislike her from the get go if she didn't do everything to assure them she was an upstanding young lady.

"Horror fan?"

"A friend recommended it, to be honest I'm not sure what it's about."

She heard the bell going off, more people coming into the store. Her eyes caught on them, not least because one of them was in a skull mask. Tall as well, God so many people on this Boardwalk dwarfed her. Mr Price reacted very much like he knew them and was keeping an eye on them. The one with the mohawk was staring openly at her, leaning over to whisper something to the one with the moustache. Probably trouble makers, young men who lived in the area and were generally a nuisance on the Boardwalk. It got her back up a little, she had always hated people like them bullying everyone else, menacing businesses in the area because they were bored.

Mr Price had his arms crossed as him and the masked one stared at one another. To try de-escalate whatever this was she put a hand gently to one of his forearms.

"I'm happy to take any recommendations from you though."

Her attempt both worked and failed. Mr Price did turn his attention back to her, giving her a soft smile that all but made her melt. He seemed like a genuinely lovely man, the first one of the day. It was somewhat ruined by the boisterous laughter of the one with the mohawk.

"Look at this wee lassie, speaking all bonnie" he laughed, his rumbling accent and mocking putting her firmly in a place between annoyed and aroused.

He took a few steps forward, getting into her space. God he didn't half loom over her and he was not even the tallest man here. With him on one side of her and Mr Price on the other she felt like a prey animal. She could not tear her eyes away from the Scottish man as he grinned down at her. He was magnetic in the way watching an acrobat was, it felt like someone could die at any moment but she couldn't help but look. His rough hand carded through her hair and settled at her neck and she was sure he was about to kiss her. There was something terrifying about his presence the more she was in it, if he kissed her she thought her fight or flight might fail her and go instead to freeze.

"That's enough" Mr Price said, snapping her out of the odd trance she felt she was in. "You have a shift to get to love, on you go" he continued, putting a firm hand to the small of her back and steering her a little to get her moving towards the door.

The other man only moved when the one in the mask wrapped a gloved hand around the back of his neck, squeezing like she imagined someone would do to an errant mutt. It wasn't until she was out in the open air and gulping in breaths that she realised she had never told Mr Price she had a shift that evening. Word must travel fast here she supposed.

Her first night on the Boardwalk had put her out of her mind. God it was like being punched in the face with the ghost of what Coney Island should have been; swarmed with bodies that choked out all the oxygen, making it difficult to breathe anything that wasn't thick with the taste of the writhing masses. It made her sick in a way that bordered on delirium.

The carousel was always full, the music throbbing all the way into her molars. The bright colours flooding with artificial light meant she couldn't see much beyond the machine, feeling like she existed on a tiny island of horses and bodies. Touch was the only sense she felt she could trust now, a sensation that was what made her fall in love with this line of work in the first place. She would drag her hands past the horses, grip the brass rings so tight it made her knuckles white before returning them to the dispenser for the next person to try their hand, walk against the direction of the floor just to feel the breeze prickle goosebumps on her skin.

The hand on her arm felt searing hot.

"There you are, didn't even introduce yourself before you were running off like a scared little doe."

The man in the skull mask had a voice like gravel, speaking right into her ear to be heard over the music. It made it feel intimate knowing that the sound of him would not travel to anyone else, that it was only for her. She could not let him know that she was scared of him, of any of them. If she was going to work here, she needed the locals to know she could hold her own, that she wasn't someone for them to mess around with.

"I'm not scared, certainly not of you" she lied, puffing out her chest.

"Prove it."

He left her standing there dumbstruck, shaking and feeling slick between her legs from the way he had growled it into her ear. The moment he was off of the carousel it was like he had melted into the crowd beyond. Alex showed up at some point, she didn't know how long it had been, and told her that he would take over. His eyes were bright and excited and it made her want to throw up.

He was waiting for her, the skull mask man. Her stomach was doing flips at the sight of him on a bike. She thought it might fully turn itself inside out when the Scottish man materialised behind her, pressing his nose to her pulse point before tugging at her earlobe with his teeth. Sharp, they felt sharp.

"Ghost says yer naw a fraidey cat, reckons you'd be willing to prove it" he cooed into her ear, big hands wrapping around her waist and lifting her onto the back of the bike behind Ghost. "Better hold on, he's naw going tae go slow."

Before she could get herself right back off of the bike one of Ghost's hands grabbed her arm, wrenching it around his waist and holding it there in a vice grip. When the bike took off she had little choice but to wrap the other arm around to avoid being thrown off, screaming into his ear to let her go. He did, putting his second hand back to the handles. At the speed they were going it didn't help, she had to keep clinging. She heard the howling of the Scottish man, on his own bike speeding along next to them.

She was scared out of her mind but the solidness of the body she was wrapped around and the hard vibrating of the seat between her legs was torturous in a way that was so sickeningly incompatible with her fear.

When they stopped she was dazed, trying to resist the whine that wanted to escape when the engine cut out and the bike stilled beneath her. The body in front of her shifted, moving until he was sat facing her. She put her hands to his shoulders, meaning to use them as leverage to push herself up and off the bike but instead The Scottish man pushed her back down from behind, his hand quickly moving from her shoulders down her front.

"Fuck baby, ye enjoy that huh? Could see ye grinding down whenever Si revved up" he groaned, groping roughly at her tits.

This was wrong, she should not be here. She should not be doing this. The adrenaline was so she could get out of this situation, not so she could moan loudly when his fingers found her nipple and fucking twisted.

"I already know you're soaked, can smell it pet" Ghost said, almost cruel, before biting off a glove and shoving a hand into her pants. He stroked two fingers up the length of her cunt, making sure his nail caught her clit the second time and laughing at her when she cried out at the sensation. Watching him withdraw his hand and show his glistening fingers to the man behind her made humiliation burn through her.

"Open up Johnny."

She was caught in the middle of them as Johnny took Ghost's fingers in his mouth, moaning as he messily suckled her off of them. There was no music here, no crowds to cover the noises of Johnny sloppily choking himself on Ghost's fingers, his saliva dripping onto her shoulder.

"Please Si, please let me eat her" he begged around Ghost's fingers and fuck if that didn't make her clench.

"Patience Johnny" Ghost scolded in response, withdrawing his fingers and grabbing at her jeans, pulling them off of her. It was a little awkward with how they were positioned, but once he got one leg off of her foot he just left her jeans dangling from the other, not bothering to get them all the way off now that he had the access he wanted.

The cool night air smacked onto her bare skin like an open palm. He rucked up her shirt next, pushing her down until her lower back hit the bike in the process so that her head was hanging off the end, lined right up with Johnny's dick which was visibly straining against his pants.

She tried to bring herself back up only to scream when a hand slapped hard onto her pussy, the thin fabric of her soaked panties doing little to soften the blow.

"Stay fucking still doll unless I tell you otherwise" Ghost growled at her.

He didn't take her panties off, just shoved them out of the way so he could spear two fingers into her. She yelped, trying to move back but only managed to grind her face against Johnny who growled long and low.

"So fucking tight" Ghost hissed, pumping his fingers in and out, "Johnny get her to relax would you?"

She could hardly breathe when Johnny leaned over her, clothed dick pushing relentlessly against her face, so that he could grip onto her hips and start lapping at her clit over her panties. She weakly pounded her fists against his thighs but if he could feel it then he wasn't reacting, seemingly lost in the task at hand.

"That's it, such a little slut for it, making a fucking mess of my bike."

It was overwhelming, the lack of oxygen, the feeling of Johnny sucking and licking at her clit like he was made for it, the fingers pistoning in and out, Ghost's degrading. Her hips tried desperately to buck up but Johnny only growled like an animal and held them roughly down as she came, not letting up for even a second.

The tears were streaming from her eyes by the time they made her cum again, a delicious stretch coming from Ghost adding a third finger. Johnny was rock hard against her face, rutting into her and starting to whine.

"Si, please. Please I'll be good. I'll be so good. Need her bonnie mouth around my cock or I'm gonna die. Please" he begged incoherently.

She was boneless when Johnny stood, giving her some breathing room. The pathetic whine she gave when Simon's fingers left her cunt should have been embarrassing, but she was barely able to formulate a full thought. The sound of clothing being adjusted should have been the first clue that they were nowhere near done. The sight of a throbbing cock at her lips was a pretty big second one.

"Come on, there ye go lass, fuuuuuck that's it" Johnny hissed as he pushed himself into her mouth. Nobody had ever been in her mouth at this angle, her head dangling upside down. He kept pushing in even when her panic response set in at the intrusion, hands battering against his legs and she gagged around him and tried to shift away, further towards where Ghost was sitting.

She screamed around the cock in her throat when Ghost rammed himself into her.

"I said stay fucking still!" he growled, leaving no time for adjustment before setting a hard and fast pace, every thrust sending her jolting back onto Johnny's dick.

Fuck it was so much, she was so full, she couldn't fucking breathe. Johnny had a hand around her throat, feeling his own bulge there as he fucked in and out of her.

"Steamin' Jesus, you take cock like a fucking dream bonnie."

The reverence he said it with sent her hurtling towards another orgasm, the pain still just on the side of pleasure.

"Fucking slut, trying to milk me aren't you? Want me to cum in this pretty little cunt and knock you up doll? Is that it?"

"Fuck Si, need tae cum, please let me cum."

Ghost was growling, not giving her a break as he fucked her through her orgasm to the point that the overstimulation was painful. Johnny's thrusts were erratic now, making it even harder to figure out when to breathe.

"Earn it, make her cum again."

She was pretty sure she would die if she came again, but Johnny leaned over her body and went right back to work, slobbering all over her clit as Ghost continued to mercilessly piston in and out of her. She tried to squirm, tried to do anything to get Johnny's mouth the fuck off of her. The hand around her throat squeezed.

"Fucking take it" he growled against her clit, a sharp sting from an incisor grazing against it jolting her before he sucked hard. She howled around his cock and felt herself squeeze hard against Ghost's as she saw stars.

"That's it, good fucking girl" Ghost hissed, burying himself to the hilt and letting that delicious squeeze milk him dry inside her.

She was so thoroughly fucked out that when Johnny came down her throat she couldn't swallow, just choking and sputtering as she hung limply off of the bike. When hands gently pushed her back up so she was sat upright the blood all rushing back down from her head made her pass out.

It could have been seconds or hours later when she screamed herself back into consciousness, feeling the sharp sting of teeth sinking into the flesh of her throat.

#cod #ghoap au #ghoap x reader #dark fic #cod lost boys au #mhairiwrites

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