#my lower abdomen is made of ow

[daddy-dins-girl]

Rush

pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

No use of Y/N. No physical description of reader other than that she has hair long enough for Dave to grab... (mood board is for aesthetic purposes only)

Word Count: 5.7k

summary: You're a part-time nanny for the beautiful York family. The money is good, the job is easy, and on days when Mr. York works from home, well, those are more than enough incentive to keep you coming back. (Literally this is just PWP and I'm sorry, not sorry).

notes: the Dave York brain rot is so real y'all. I'm sorry, I know I owe you updates on other stories still! Also, this is my first moodboard EVER. How'd I do? lol.

warnings: 🔞 18+MDNI. PWP (this is basically just smut y'all). Infidelity (is it even Dave York if he's not cheating on his wife?). Implied age gap I guess? (Reader is mentioned to be in college but no actual age is specified. Dave is in his 40's). Dom!Dave York. Degradation kink. Cockwarming. Oral sex (f and m receiving). Protected p in v sex. Inappropriate behaviour during a Zoom call (Dave York is a menace and I will not apologize for that). One ass slap (as far as Dave goes I'd say this fic is a tame one).

My masterlist

A03 link

It’s like you have developed a Pavlovian response to even seeing his name pop up on your screen with the notification alert. You practically start drooling before you even open it to see what he’s said or sent you, you just can’t help yourself. There’s a heat that runs through your veins and you feel it down to your toes, the rush that comes over you over the simple four words displayed across your screen.

Incoming Message: Mr. York

You tap the message to open it and can’t even pretend to ignore the heat that floods your abdomen when you click again and open the attachment inside. The attachment your employer just sent you.

You bite your lower lip as your gaze quickly darts around the room, ensuring nobody is around to see your reaction. The girls of course are with you but they’re planted directly in front of the television, currently mesmerized by Elsa, for the third time this week, not that you’re counting, while you sit dutifully behind them on the sofa. Mrs. York is out shopping or getting her hair done or running errands or whatever it is she does for most of the afternoon that requires you to be here to watch the children. You don’t mind. The money is good, the job is easy, and on days when Mr. York works from home, well, those are more than enough incentive to keep you coming back.

You’re more than a babysitter, more like a nanny, however not full time. You don’t live there, just spend a few hours there each weekday and you’ll watch the girls on occasional evenings or weekends when needed. You pick the girls up from school each day, bring them home and sometimes one or both of their parents are home but busy, or sometimes neither of them are there. You do things like the girls' laundry and prepare their dinner as well as their school lunches for the next day and some light cleaning tasks like the girls' rooms or cleaning the kitchen after you’ve made their meals. It was a good gig that worked well around your current class schedule and the money was much better than what most of your friends made to keep themselves afloat, working in restaurants or retail jobs.Not to mention the added benefit of your job.

Today, lucky for you, is a work from home day for Dave. Mr. York. And the message he sends you leaves no room for interpretation, you know exactly what he wants. You stare at the picture a moment longer, the dark navy blue of his dress slacks with the very obvious outline of his hard-on straining against the fabric. His hand sits on top of his thigh right next to the bulge under his pants and the gold band around his finger on prominent display does absolutely nothing to dissuade you as you push yourself up from the sofa.

“Girls I have some of your laundry to finish up, just keep watching your movie ok and I’ll be back in a little bit” you tell them sweetly and Molly casually acknowledges you with a wave of her hand, Alice not bothered enough to look up from the screen.

Honestly, thank god for Frozen.

You smooth down your skirt as you walk down the stairs to the finished basement and turn the corner to the only firmly closed door in the house. Mr. York's home office. It was off limits to everyone. Everyone except you, when you were invited of course, and the text he just sent you might as well be an embossed formal invitation printed on expensive cardstock.

You don’t bother knocking. You can hear his low voice through the door. It’s muffled and you can’t make out what he’s saying but you know he’s speaking and must be on a call.

A boring conference call.

Your favourite.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips as you carefully push the door open, ensuring to be quiet and gently push it shut behind you. You don’t bother locking it, not anymore. You had once, the first time, and Dave ensured you that it wasn’t necessary. The girls knew this room was off limits because “Daddy was working” and Carol, if she did bother to come down here at all, would be sure to knock first to not interrupt Dave while he was working. You think he secretly likes the thrill of it, doing absolutely depraved things with you in his family’s home behind an unlocked door, knowing that his wife could walk in whenever she wanted. Of course it’s not something he would ever want his children to see, but it's been engrained well enough in their heads by now not to come down here that he knows he doesn’t need to worry about it.

You turn around from the door after closing it and see him casually leaning back in his office chair, elbow resting on the arm of it while he rests his face on his hand, a bored expression on his handsome features. His government-provided laptop sits open on his desk and you hear a mixture of voices flooding through the speakers though you don’t pay any attention to what they’re saying. You stand near the door still in the middle of the room and begin to unbutton your blouse, ignoring the little flutter in your tummy when you notice Dave sits up a little straighter in his chair. It’s a routine by now. You know what he wants without either of you needing to speak a word. Of course it’s not always the same when you step into this room, but when Dave is on a conference call, this is what you do.

All buttons undone you shrug out of your top and waste no time in undoing your bra next, letting the straps slide off your shoulders as you toss it carelessly to the floor. Next you pull down the zipper to your skirt and tug it down your legs along with your panties, not bothering to waste any time.

Dave likes efficiency. He also likes you completely naked, always, regardless of his level of dress or what the two of you might be doing. Even if he wants you under his desk sucking his cock where he can’t really even see your body, you will be naked while you do it and he’ll likely be fully clothed with just his belt open and zipper pulled down. Those were Dave’s rules. And you were nothing with him if not obedient.

You smile coyly at him as you make your way towards his desk and he pushes his chair back slightly further as he mumbles some confirmation over the speakerphone to his underlings. You know you don’t need to worry about the laptop or the Zoom call he’s currently in, Dave had a little black security sticker placed over every camera lens on all the larger electronics in the house, always taking his privacy seriously. Even the girls' tablets had the camera lenses blacked out.

He puts a single finger to his lips as you walk over to him, signaling to you that you need to be quiet, be his good girl, but of course you already know this. You nod your head slightly as you reach him, hands instinctively running over from the top of his chest up his broad shoulders as you swing one of your legs over him until you're straddled on his lap. Your hands slide back down his front, all the way down until you reach his waist and quietly unfasten his belt, popping the button open on his slacks and sliding his zipper down. Dave helps you by slightly lifting his hips, enough that you can shove down the material of his pants and boxers just enough to set his waiting cock free. You love that even when he’s working from home he is always dressed sharply in a business suit. Today his jacket is off, hung around the back of his chair and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his forearms but aside from that, everything, including his tie, is perfectly in place.

Dave York, ever the professional, as his personal employee gets situated to sit on his cock during a conference call.

Once he’s on full glorious display for you you look up at him, waiting on his confirmation. That slight nod of his head he gives you that says ‘go on sweet girl, sit on my cock’. Deep brown eyes stare back at you and you wait, unmoving, until he lifts his hand and presses two fingers to your lips. You dutifully open your mouth, inviting them in and suck, wetting them with your tongue and saliva for a few long seconds until he’s satisfied and pulls them away. He immediately brings those same fingers down between your legs and slowly drags them through your folds, a smirk crossing his lips when he feels how wet you are already, how you don’t even need his fingers to be ready to take him. The truth is you were uncomfortably wet before he even sent you that text. The anticipation, the waiting, the wondering if today’s a day when he summons for you, it was enough to have you already worked up.

Despite you being ready he takes a few seconds to leisurely circle your clit with his thick fingers and you have to bite your lip to suppress the moan that wants to come out. You know you need to be quiet, it’s another one of his rules. If he wasn’t on an active call you are allowed to make some noise, he likes it even, but just not loud enough that your voice carries upstairs. His hand not currently working between your legs slides past you to the computer at his desk and you hear the tap of a button and you know he’s hit ‘mute’ on his call.

“Going to be a good girl for me, nice and quiet, right?” He asks and you nod your head.

“Yes” you whimper, sounding wrecked already despite that he’s barely begun.

“That’s good. I unfortunately need to be an active participant in this godforsaken budget meeting and will need to unmute from time to time and god help you if you start moaning like some bitch in heat and somebody hears you, I’ll turn on my camera and let them watch what a slut you are for my cock, do you understand?”

“Yes sir” you nod your head enthusiastically. “I’ll be good”

God the way he speaks to you when you’re together like this, maybe you should be concerned with how hot it gets you but you’re not. You know of course it's just talk, it's a persona he puts on when you’re intimate together and he gathered very quickly early on how much you enjoyed it so these are the roles you play when you are together. Truthfully Dave is respectful towards you, always has been, before and after the first time you’d hooked up. You chalk it up to him needing a different kind of release than he can get with his wife, the mother of his children. He needs a break from reality. From white-picket fences and playdates and fortunately for you, that’s where you came in. Call it ‘Daddy Issues’, call it whatever you want, but when Dave got a little mean with you or called you names or got rough with you, well, you’re honestly worried you’ll never again feel the sexual satisfaction that you get from this man. Nobody else could possibly measure up.

“I know you will baby” he smirks at you. “Now come on, you know what I want” he says and then taps a button on the keyboard again as he clears his throat and begins speaking to his colleagues again.

It should be scientifically studied how Dave droning on about quarterly budgets and fiscal year-ends can get your pussy absolutely dripping for him.

You do know what he wants and when his hand leaves the apex of your thighs you reach into the desk drawer beside you and pluck a foil packet out of the small wooden box he keeps nestled inside his desk (using protection is another one of Dave's rules so there's always a stash nearby in his office). Once you’ve torn it open and carefully rolled the condom down his thick shaft you lift yourself up just enough to hover over it before you sink down and are fully seated in his lap, buried to the hilt. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and you lean your head down to rest on his shoulder but otherwise you don’t move. Dave doesn’t want to fuck you. At least, not right now. He wants you to be his good girl and keep his cock warm for him until his call is over and then he’ll decide what he wants to do with you. You hope the call isn’t a long one but sometimes in the past you haven’t been so lucky. Sometimes you sit here for five minutes, sometimes for thirty. Either way, you’ll be good while you do it and not move, otherwise Dave will become upset and punish you. And unfortunately punishment for you means he gets to come and you don’t, so you’re very careful now not to be punished. That lesson has been learned.

The meeting continues and after a few minutes Dave grows bored of his colleagues. You see it on his face and how his head falls back against the chair. Though you’ve barely been paying attention, even you know that they’ve just been talking in circles for the last five minutes.

“All right enough, let’s move on I don’t have all day” Dave suddenly barks at his computer and you hear several “yes sir”’s and “sorry sir”’s and flipping of papers as they switch topics to the next article on their agenda. Dave is still annoyed and bored and you know this because he snakes an arm between your bodies and his fingers are suddenly between your legs again where the two of you are joined. You lift your head from his shoulder again and pull back just enough so you can look him in the eyes as his fingers slowly begin to press at your clit. You pull your bottom lip through your teeth and your brow furrows slightly as he gently teases you and this… this is new. He doesn’t normally play with you when you’re meant to just be sitting still for him and honestly it terrifies you a little bit, knowing you can’t make a sound.

He’s still off mute as he occasionally responds to his colleagues and seemingly ignores the desperate plea your eyes are giving him as he rubs torturously slow circles around your little bundle of nerves. God he’s going to make you cum and you’re not allowed to utter a sound. A sly grin pulls at his lips and you know he’s enjoying this. Watching you squirm in his lap, desperate to please him as you focus every ounce of your concentration on not moaning out loud but Dave knows your body so well by now, like he’s fine tuning an instrument he’s had for years. You bury your face in his neck as your hands cling around the back of his head and the hand not between your legs comes up behind you, rubbing comforting circles across the span of your lower back. If it weren’t for the fingers at your clit and the cock buried inside you you’d feel like a small child being soothed and you might as well be because despite your best efforts, tears well at the corners of your eyes that you know Dave can feel drop hot against his skin. He’s making you feel so fucking good, but not good enough that it’ll get you to come and he knows that. He’s left you teetering on that edge as he plays with your clit with practiced precision and you need to come so badly you’re literally reduced to tears, the tight coil in your abdomen desperate to snap but can’t quite get there. He’s toying with you, and he loves it.

Your mouth mimes a desperate ‘please’ when you pull back again to look him in the eyes, hoping he’ll take pity on you. You must look a mess, tear-stained cheeks and he has to be able to feel the way your thighs are literally trembling. The smug grin hasn’t left his lips and for a moment you think he’s going to continue to torture you, but to your elated surprise he leans a bit forward to speak into his computer.

“All right everyone I think we’ve accomplished enough for one day, let’s pick this up on Monday, yeah? Have a good weekend everyone”

He doesn’t bother to wait for any of his colleagues to reply, just slams his laptop shut and shoves it aside with a sweep of his arm and you yelp out in surprise when he suddenly hoists you up and off of his cock, placing you down on your back on his desk. You whimper at the loss of him inside you but don’t have another second to complain before he shoves his chair back as he gets out of it and kneels to the ground in front of you.

“Oh fuck” you whimper, lifting your head up as far as you’re able to and reaching a hand out to place on his head.

“You were such a good girl for me, weren’t you baby?” he grins up at you from between your spread legs and you desperately nod your head in agreement. Honestly, you were proud of yourself.

“Good girls get rewarded, isn’t that right sweetheart?” he asks and you nod again.

Dave pauses for a moment and then his gaze lifts upwards to the ceiling. “Frozen?” he asks, knowing that his children are essentially mindless drones when their favourite movie is playing on tv and won’t come looking for you.

“Yes” you breathe out, your voice shaking. God, you need him so badly.

“Good” he grins again. “Want to hear you baby” is all he says before he dives in head first, literally, his mouth and tongue going straight to your core.

He begins greedily lapping at you, tongue pushing through your folds before he brings it up a little higher and swirls the muscle around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips cant off the desk without your permission and you hear him chuckle before he places a strong arm across your waist.

“Easy baby, let me take care of you”

And take care of you he does. He takes his free hand and inserts one thick finger inside your wet heat, beginning a steady pace of fucking you with his single digit before his mouth closes around you again, sucking your clit into his mouth and a loud moan followed by a string of curses leaves your lips, your hands clutching into the short stands of hair at his head. Your orgasm floods over you within seconds, already being so close from the earlier teasing and Dave moans into your cunt when he feels your walls pulsing around his finger.

“Fuck,” he groans into you, apparently pleased with you and himself. His finger continues working inside of you, at a slower pace thankfully and his arm around your waist leaves you and disappears behind the desk where you can’t see it but you know where that hand is going and you let out a little whimper, causing Dave to chuckle against you.

“What is it sweetheart? Tell me”

“Want your cock” you whine. “Please” you add, because Dave likes it when you have manners.

He presses a single kiss to your oversensitive centre before he finally pulls back and gets up from the floor, settling back into his chair and looking at you expectantly.

“Well go on then” he nods towards his aching length that now rests against his clothed belly, the condom long discarded. You assume he took it off not long after he pulled you from his lap so he could jerk himself off with his free hand while he ate you out.

You quickly scramble off of the desk and onto your knees, greedily taking him into your hand and mouth, not needing to be asked twice. Your hand wraps around the base while your mouth envelops the rest of him, taking him as far down your throat as your gag reflex allows.

“Eager today” Dave chuckles from above you before a small groan escapes his lips when your tongue comes up to press into his already leaking slit.

“Fuck, the mouth on you…” he tuts, hand coming around to gather your hair so he can hold it back from your face and get a better view of how you take him down your throat. You continue to suck and lick and swallow him down, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth to ensure you reach all of him and he groans, head falling back against the headrest of his chair. The hand not holding your hair back presses down on the top of your head, forcing you further down his cock. He likes to hear you choke and gag on him, likes to see the spit and saliva and drool run down your chin and hear those debauched noises that leave your throat when you take him so deeply. Tears pick at the corners of your eyelids as the head of his cock knocks against the back of your throat and he forcefully pulls your head back, tilting it so your gaze finds his and you see the satisfaction stretch across his lips as he watches the fat tears hit your cheeks.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl” he practically growls at you before yanking you off of him. You gasp for breath once he’s pulled you from his throbbing member, your hands coming up to rest on his knees to steady yourself as you catch your breath. You know you had him close to that edge so the fact that he’s pulled you off of him has you instantly flooded with arousal again, knowing that today he wants to finish inside of you rather than in your mouth.

“C’mere” he grunts, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up to your feet as he also stands from his chair. The moment you're both up he pulls you forward and his lips crash against yours, shoving his tongue inside of your mouth to hungrily taste you. You can’t help the little whimper that escapes you when you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips curl into a smile at that.

He pulls back after a few seconds and begins to kiss and nip along your jaw and upwards until his lips and breath are hot against your ear.

“Turn around for me sweetheart, bend over”

You follow his request immediately, turning in his arms and bending over the desk until your top half is fully resting on the smooth, hard cherry wood surface and your feet are planted firmly on the ground. Dave’s dark brown leather shoe comes between both of your feet and he hastily kicks them further apart, spreading your legs wide for him and your breath catches in your throat for a second before you let out a little giggle at how eager he is to have you. His hands go to your hips and he angles you just right so when he steps forward his cock slides right between your folds and you let out a low moan at the friction it causes. He lets you feel him bare for a few more passes through your folds as his right hand leaves your hip to begin rustling around in the top desk drawer again. You have to bite back the words that are on your tongue, ‘don’t use one, just take me’ because you figure if he wanted to fuck you raw he would have by now. Dave is always careful and for the most part, always in control of himself but sometimes you wish he’d just let go and be reckless with you. It’s not really even that reckless, you argue with yourself. You’re on birth control and Dave knows this because he’s seen the little square patch you wear on your hip for three weeks of the month. He’d asked what it was as his fingers delicately traced the shape and you’d told him. A simple “hmm” was all you got from in response. And aside from that, Dave was the only person you were currently sexually active with and you’re pretty sure Dave knew that as well. There was so much Dave seemed to know about you. It would probably be almost unsettling if you really stopped to think about it so you just didn’t. You were happy to stay in your little bubble of blissed ignorance, so long as it meant Dave would continue to show you the attention you craved from him.

You turn your head back just in time to see him ripping the package with his teeth and then his hips pull back from you just enough so that he can roll the condom on before he’s back, pressing forward and teasing at your entrance again.

“Ready baby?” he asks.

“Mmm hmm” you nod weakly, desperate to feel him inside you finally. “Please”

With that final uttered syllable Dave thrusts forward, entering you in one swift motion and burying himself to the hilt with a single rough snap of his hips and all the breath gets knocked out of your lungs as your upper body is shoved slightly further up the desk. He stills for a moment once he’s fully seated inside you and lets you adjust to him, his left hand rubbing soothingly back and forth on your hip.

“That’s it, take my cock so good sweetheart, fuck” he groans, tossing his head back and now you’re not sure if he’s stopped moving for your sake or for his own. “God damn, love this tight fucking pussy” he practically growls before he rolls his hips back before snapping forward again. He sets a hard, rough pace from there, stealing the breath from your lungs with each snap of his hips and the guttural noises that leave your throat each time he hits that spot deep inside of you sound downright sinful as they bounce off the four walls of the small office.

Not quite as sinful, however, as the smack that reverberates in the room when Dave’s hand lands a sharp blow to your right ass cheek as he continues to pound into you from behind.

“Ah!” you cry out, sounding positively wrecked, because you are. “Fuck, oh my god, ohmygod”. You’re reduced to a whimpering, whining mess within minutes as Dave bucks into you with reckless abandon. His fingers dig so deeply into your hips you know for fact they’ll leave bruises. You manage to turn your head slightly back to look at him, and what a glorious sight he is. Neck veins prominently on display as he tilts his head slightly back but still manages to keep his hard gaze on you. His teeth are bared and there’s beads of sweat at his forehead from his exertion and it’s enough to send you catapulting over that edge. You come long and hard with a wrecked sob leaving your throat as your walls pulse and contract around him.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” you cry out, hands stretched above your head to hold onto the edge of the desk for dear life as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Shit baby… shit” Dave curses and you know your orgasm nearly brought his own on as well. Another low growl escape his lips before he’s hauling you up by your arms. “C’mere”

Your limbs might as well be made of Jello after how hard you just came so fortunately for Dave you’re very pliant in his arms as he all but manhandles you around. He pulls out of you and turns you around before he hauls you up and off the desk. He backs up just enough to sit back down in his chair and pulls you down on top of him, situating you just right so you’re sat right back on his cock the same way you were earlier and you cry out again once he has you speared on his dick.

“Ride me baby, bounce up and down on this dick, come on” he urges you on, sounding wrecked himself and it’s enough to give you the gust of energy you need to comply. Your hands go to his shoulders to hold on and his go to your hips to help you raise them just slightly before he slams you back down into his lap and then repeats the motion, over and over.

“That’s it, oh fuck” he seethes through gritted teeth. “Such a good girl for me, oh ride that cock baby come on” he encourages and your eyes roll back in your head at how deep he hits inside you. You think you actually feel a third orgasm coming on and Dave must sense it in you too because the next thing you know his thumb is at your clit, rubbing frantic circles as he begs and pleads with you to give him ‘just one more’. And you do just that. With a cry of his name leaving your lips you come a third time, hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as he fucks you through it and then his arms wrap tight around your lower back and he presses you firmer into his lap as he pushes a few final deep thrusts into you until he finally stills, a shuddering moan released from the back of his throat as he spills inside the condom.

You stay just like that for long moments afterwards. Dave’s arms wrapped tightly around you and yours around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder and his nuzzling into the side of your face. Dave isn’t exactly a cuddler. At least not with you or in your experience with him yet. Typically when your done he slides out of you and likes to get the condom off and get himself cleaned up immediately, dismissing you to get back to whatever you were doing but today he seems content to just hold you and you’ll greedily take every second of it until he regretfully pulls away from you like you know he has to.

You're so blissed out in your post-orgasmic state that you almost don’t even hear it when he murmurs the words against your ear.

“Come away with me”

Confusion laces your tone as you push back from him just enough to search his eyes for answers “What?”

“I want you to come away with me” he repeats, clearer this time but you still don’t understand exactly what he means. He sighs and raises a hand to gently push your hair back behind your ear before his hand lands softly on your cheek. “For a weekend. Let’s get away. I’ll say I have a work trip or something and we can just… be together. No interruptions, no… fucking Olaf the snowman singing in the background while I’m trying to fuck your brains out” he adds teasingly and you can’t help the full belly laugh that escapes you.

“Do you mean it?” You ask after a moment. You want to believe it. A whole weekend with Dave sounds like fucking heaven, but you don’t want to get your hopes up if he’s just talking madness because he just blew his load and isn’t thinking straight.

Dave shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while” he remarks casually, thumb softly stroking back and forth at your cheek. “What do you say?”

“I say yes, of course!” You practically squeal, surging forward and stealing a kiss from his waiting lips. You kiss for long moments. It’s not a frenzied kiss like you usually share but it’s still heated and before long you’re forced to pull away when Dave’s cock twitches from where it’s still buried inside of you. You unfortunately both know you don’t have time for another round and so you regretfully pull apart, Dave gently lifting your hips to pull you off of him. He takes the condom off, tying it off at the end and tossing it into the small trash can under his desk before he carefully stuffs himself back into his underwear and rights his clothes. You gather your own clothes and quickly dress until you’re presentable again and then wander back over to where Dave has sat back down in his chair, undoubtedly going back to work for a couple more hours.

“Thank you” you whisper before you lean down and plant a kiss to his waiting lips.

“I’ll text you. About our… plans” he says and you smile warmly at him.

“Looking forward to it” you remark as you slip out of his office and back upstairs to check on the girls.

True to his word Dave texts you a week or so later, giving you very vague details on your trip. It’s just dates he’s told you to blackout, a friday through sunday at the end of the month and that he’ll pick you up at your place Friday at 3pm. No other details, not where you’re going, what you need to bring or pack or what type of clothing you’ll need. You assume you won’t be going far, a local hotel is most likely, but you’d at least like to know if you’ll be going anywhere nice for dinner, what kind of wardrobe you need to bring.

“What should I bring?” You settle on asking him when you reply to his text and a stupid grin forms at your lips from his simple reply.

“Just a toothbrush baby, won’t be needing anything else for what I’ve got planned for us 😈”

taglist: @janaispunk @nerdieforpedro @anotherpedrolover @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @axshadows @suzdin @yorksgirl @lincolndjarin @pedroshotwifey

thanks to @saradika-graphics for the page dividers!

I might turn this into a little series? But it would literally just be PWP lol. Not much storyline. Just for when I need to get the Dave York brain rot out lol. So if you wanna see more of these two (or see their little getaway) just lmk!

[therrerium-valkryonia]

(Requested by: European3)

[A young bank employee is in labor while striking up a long conversation with her boss, she does not believe she is until the situation is far too late for her]

Shadows Arisen

Tw: 18+ Minors DNI, may contain sexual content

Scorching in the brazen heat, the beads of sweat running off her chin as she feels the ache within her bloated womb, her unborn ever eager to have a meeting with their mother face to face, awaiting to be greeted but denied from ignorance.

A mild grunt sounded from her lips, she slants to the side of the chair in ignorance believing herself to not be having any contractions, thinking it was mild pain after she had eaten a considerable amount of very intense spicy noodles.

Her boss enters the bank, she walks towards the very sweaty Charloette behind the screen of her desk being quite politely greeted for her being on shift though she didn't have to do it.

"Mornin' love, you look disheveled today. Apologies for havin' ya enter today's shift and I appreciate it, doll-face~"

"Anything- mggh.. for you, boss. You've been a lovely girl, of course ye have me- euugh- mmffh... Ow!, masterpiece."

She walked away flustered as she sighed in relief, chuckling at herself with a regard to her flirting "That was shit! You two are really gonna be motherless for the time being... euuhh-".

Distressing herself over the reuniting pain, she stood up to sway her hips an attempt to ease the pressure and aching overflowing into her hips and around her bump and sides, underbelly and with the intense cramping on her back.

Then she heard her boss' heels and she rested her chin into her palm trying to impress her while she swayed her hips in circles, easing the head into it's position as it slid inside her cervix trying to squeeze and seizing her in inferno-like pains.

"Hi.... you good? It seems the heats gotten to ya, not good for ye..... I'll assure you. You deserve the double pay in this heat. As you know my baby comin' anyday too so I pity."

She nods & they share an awkward laughter as she is seized in thundrous pains and sores all over her abdomen to thighs.

A rush of fluid had ran down her thigh, dampening her skirt down to her socks and boots as she grabbed her side and a rush of adrenaline made her panic a bit, as she excuses her way out of the situation for just a small moment.

"Oh, soorry but- *Sharp gasp* I need to go for the bathroom I'll be back for this... mmmhh. I swear! Wait for me. Please"

Her boss nods, as she darted off to the bathroom where she enters and shuts the door leaning up against it and held on to her bump tightly with her pains beginning to peak, as she huffed loudly and bore down with her knees trembling.

The fluids oozed as she pushed with the head slowly leading down her canal, once it slides out of her cervix, she huffs in large breaths while she clenches her fist knuckle white as it begins to progress lower and closer without delay.

Her back moved into a deep slant as she groaned into her next contraction, she latched her arm around her belly's underside while bearing down into an akward squat-like position as she feels her lips open with great burn.

Her right hand was gripping into her thigh as she felt the softness of the crown spread her open, she heaves a loud storm as another contraction conquers her and she then took a heavy push, grunting more animalistically.

"mggeeuu- rgghhrrrhhh! No, please! *huffing* PLEASE! Aanngghhh! heuuurrgghhh... uuh uuu.. *sobbing*" Then sharply inhaling she reluctantly darts out of the bathroom.

Scuttling to her desk, she walks in front of her chair and seated down slowly pressing the head backwards leading with a massive burn, sweat runs down her face and more profusely then ever, it was obvious but then bubbled into being overheated and sweating from the heatwave.

Her boss then looked visibly troubled, she felt then the intense pains of a full crown forming after being pulled backwards, the pain makes her sob and softly whimper.

"Hey, uuughh... ooww, call the hospital I can feel the crown forming and- uUuuurrr... it really hUURttsss... euughh"

As her leans into her table, rocking in a see-saw motion as she stands then collapses from the pure exshuastion of holding in the crown for more than normal, her crown then goes from the head to neck in one whole movement.

"Ha- aagghh! I can't hold it! *sobs* but not hEERE! OWH!"

Her boss panics, shuffling as Charloette begins to fully bear down and her thighs wide open and her white blouse begins to show skin, she heaves and bears down as the neck slowly budges further to reveal a small peaking shoulder.

Laid on her fours, her legs splayed out and her palms digging deep into tile as she pressed her chin down and give out a loud scream "Euuaaa- AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!" as the left arm pops out cleanly and she went completely mindless.

Sobbing and beginning to tear, she pushed with as much might she could and the baby plops out of her and slides down, Charloette trembled and scuttled over and lifted a daughter into her arms as she gently kissed the baby.

It's wails grow silent, she crawls and grabs the telephone while her boss grunts heavily and in great sweat while an emergency picks up for them "Hello this is 112?" She says "Me and my boss and in labor and the heat is melding me"

The caller immeadiately asks for adress and sent one down as urgently they could, once they hung up Charloette leans over her desk as another head dangles between her thighs.

The pain was the worst it could get, she heaved heavily too tired to scream and just barely managing to pushing the arm and shoulders, once the abdomen gets out the baby falls out and she catches the twin as she heaves unevenly.

Her boss tries to resist, her crown was too large and painful as she leans farther over the desk and splays open as fluids spill heavily and she takes a huge push and the baby pops out into her pencil skirt, she collapses onto her knees and begins to lose conciousness as emergency barely come in.

They are both carried into the ambulance, the three babies catered as both begin to make a full recovery and become "close friends" being very active in the bedroom, they raise three great children all humble and somehow not pompous.

( Thanks so much for your patience this took a very long while, hope it's how you like it! )

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Ironies of Life - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster/ Fem!OC (Naomi)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: (Unplanned) Pregnancy; Exes; Emotional Angst; Brief Vomiting; Rooster Being a bit of a Dick; Named Female OC (Naomi), but No Physical Descriptions

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Naomi is referenced as being a woman and she was previously an officer in the Navy. But otherwise there is no description of her physical features or her surname, so fill in as you wish.

Summary: A few weeks after breaking up with her long-term boyfriend because he wouldn't commit to marriage and kids, Naomi finds out that she's pregnant with his baby.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Master List

Naomi had several big plans for her thirties.

Being alone, pregnant with her ex-boyfriend’s baby, and with her head in a toilet was not on the list. And neither was being blocked by her ex-boyfriend, Lieutenant Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, on every single possible messaging service, so that she couldn’t actually get in contact with him.

Yeah, that was nowhere on the list of her plans.

And the stupidest part about the whole situation was that she was the one who broke up with him. If she’d just waited a month longer, maybe she’d still have Bradley beside her, holding back her hair right now. But that wasn’t exactly a guarantee either.

After all, the whole reason behind her decision to break up with her boyfriend of six years was because he refused to commit to a future that included marriage and kids. They had a fight about it. And then another fight. And another. And then another. And then Naomi ended things because they just didn’t want the same things in life and Bradley was never going to end it.

So, she broke up with him. And she was clearly doing so well with her post-break up life.

Naomi spat what was left in her mouth before slowly lowering herself to sit on her bathroom floor. She rested her weight against the tub and pressed a cool towel to her head to try and control her nausea. After she was sure that she wouldn’t throw up again, Naomi flushed the toilet, slowly got to her feet, and made her way out of her bathroom.

Sitting on her bed, Naomi pulled out her phone and tried to call Bradley again. But apparently, she was still blocked. Sighing, Naomi tossed her phone onto her bed and held her head in her hands to try and compose herself. She let out a calming breath and laid down. Resting a hand on her abdomen, Naomi took another deep breath.

“Looks like it’s still just you and me, Little Bean,” she murmured tiredly. 

She was on the verge of entering her second trimester and her baby bump was just starting to form. Any kind of loose shirt that she wore still hid it, but she knew that she would quickly reach a point in her pregnancy where baggy clothing wouldn’t do the trick anymore.

She wouldn’t be able to hide a baby forever. And Naomi just hoped that Bradley would talk to her soon, before he learned about her pregnancy through someone else.

But part of her kicked herself for being so focused on telling Bradley.

He very clearly didn't want children and he very clearly hated her after she broke up with him. And it wasn't like she expected him to want to get back together and raise a baby that he never wanted in the first place. Naomi accepted that Bradley didn't want to be a dad and that forcing someone to be a parent who didn't want to be one was wrong and it would only create more problems in the future.

So, why was she so hellbent on finding him to tell him the news?

She wasn't entirely sure to be quite honest.

She just felt like after spending six years of their together, she owed him the truth. She owed him an in-person heads up. And maybe she just needed some closure too. Maybe she just needed to hear him say it one last time and then she could move on with this next stage of her life. Maybe she just needed confirmation for herself and for her Little Bean, who would inevitably ask about their father one day.

But regardless, she needed to find Rooster. And she was quickly running out of time with that project.

~~~~~

Naomi tried to not stare at the happy couple that left the obstetric office holding hands and absolutely giddy about the ultrasound they carried with them. And she really tried to not picture Bradley sitting beside her in the office. It would only make sure sick and anxious and doctors offices already made her nervous enough.

Another two months had passed and she was still nowhere closer to getting in touch with Bradley. Last she heard, he was out somewhere in the Atlantic, but he must have marked her email address as spam or otherwise blocked her because he hadn’t responded to any of her messages.

It was still just her and the Little Bean, who wasn’t so little anymore.

“Naomi?” one of the medical assistants called, standing in the doorway.

Naomi quickly gathered her things and followed the medical assistant back into an exam room. After a few minutes and some screening questions, Naomi was staring at the photo of her baby wiggling around on the ultrasound screen.

“Measurements are all normal and right on track,” the obstetrician stated, typing in notes as she moved the ultrasound wand around. “And the baby’s heartbeat is strong and normal. You have a healthy baby on your hands.” The obstetrician turned back to Naomi and smiled kindly. “Did you want to know what the baby’s gender is?”

“No, that’s alright,” Naomi replied quietly, forcing a smile. “I can wait a few more months.”

Her brain rationalized that it wouldn’t be a crime to find out without Bradley there—he hadn’t responded to any of her messages, including a handwritten letter—but Naomi still wanted to wait.

The obstetrician took some final measurements and sent Naomi out with two freshly printed ultrasound photos in hand. Naomi made her next appointment and headed out of the office. Just as she reached her car, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pulling it out, Naomi glanced down to see a text message from one of her old friends from her time in the Navy.

I know that you’ve been asking around about Rooster. I just thought that I should give you a heads up that he was at the Hard Deck in Miramar last night.

Her friend sent a photo along with the text and Naomi’s breath caught in her throat when she recognized that particular Hawaiian shirt and matching mustache.

What was he doing in Miramar? He was supposed to be out in the Atlantic for two more months.

Naomi quickly shot her friend a text back, thanking her for the tip, before climbing into her car. She managed to get out of work on the earlier side and rushed back to her apartment. Stepping inside, Naomi didn’t break her confident stride until she was sitting in front of her computer.

She didn’t know how long Bradley would be in Miramar for, but it was the closest thing that she had to a lead in months. And she wasn’t going to waste that opportunity.

~~~~~

“Do you mind grabbing some pretzels?” Phoenix asked Bob, staring down at her list. “The spears, not the normal ones.”

The Dagger Squad decided to have a beach day after the mission and divided up the work. Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy took the job of buying the snacks and non-alcoholic drinks. Fanboy and Payback were probably still debating whether red or green grapes were better and Phoenix wanted to speed up the process.

“Yeah, sure. We want chips or anything else in that aisle?” Bob asked, causing Phoenix to shrug.

“Probably. Fanboy would know better than me, but I know that Harvard really wanted the pretzel spears for whatever reason.”

“I’ll see what they have.”

“I’ll be there in a second,” Phoenix promised, earning a nod from Bob.

He walked down the aisle and started looking for the pretzel spears. Bob glanced over at the noticeably pregnant woman struggling to reach something up on one of the top shelves, and well, he couldn’t not offer to help her. He was Bob Floyd, after all.

“Do you need some help?” Bob offered to the woman. She took a step back from the shelf and shot him a small smile.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she replied sheepishly.

“Just the blue bag?”

“Yeah, just that one.”

Bob reached up and grabbed the bag on the top shelf before holding it out to the woman. She took it with a thankful smile and placed it into her small cart.

“Thank you so much for the help.”

“Of course,” Bob replied with a polite nod. “Do you need help with anything else?”

“No, I should be all set. Thank you again.”

“Not a problem.”

Naomi nodded back to Bob before heading towards the checkout counters. She stopped at the grocery store to grab a few quick snacks before starting her search for Bradley. The Little Bean was very hungry and needy these days and she wanted to be prepared.

But as Naomi walked down the aisle, Phoenix turned into the exact same aisle. The two women stopped in their respective tracks, staring at each other incredulously.

Naomi really shouldn’t have been surprised. Phoenix was in the photo of Bradley that she’d received from her friend, so, of course, Phoenix would be in Miramar too. But Naomi wasn’t planning on running into Phoenix in the middle of a random grocery store. And Phoenix, meanwhile, was focused on Naomi’s very noticeably baby bump.

“Fuck,” Phoenix whispered out, blinking rapidly.

It all made sense now. Naomi’s sudden disappearance from social media. All of her random and quite honestly incessant attempts to reconnect with Rooster over the last few months.

Fucking hell, Phoenix told Rooster to call Naomi back.

“Phoenix,” Naomi greeted the pilot, clearly nervous and unprepared for the interaction. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright,” Phoenix replied, still shocked.

“You guys know each other?” Bob asked curiously, walking over with a bag of pretzel spears.

“We do,” Phoenix told her WSO before turning back to Naomi. “Does Rooster know that you’re here?”

“No, I tried to call him, but I’m pretty sure that he still has me blocked,” Naomi stated quietly, shifting her weight on her feet.

“Probably,” Phoenix agreed, just as quietly.

“I actually came to town because I needed to talk to him,” Naomi continued as her heart started to beat out of her chest. “About . . .”

Naomi gestured to her baby bump, which was already out and prominent enough that she couldn’t hide it from Phoenix even if she wanted to try.

Bob dropped his bag of pretzels.

~~~~~

Rooster was setting up a beach umbrella when his phone began to ring in his back pocket. Straightening up, Rooster checked his phone to see that Phoenix was calling him.

“Hey! You need help carrying stuff down to the beach?”

“No, I'm not at the beach,” Phoenix explained, eerily soft. “But the guys should be there soon.”

“Why did they ditch you?” Rooster asked, suddenly concerned.

“I sent them ahead. Something came up.”

“What? Are you okay?”

“When was the last time that you talked to Naomi?” Phoenix questioned Rooster, getting straight to the point.

Rooster’s blood went cold at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. The woman who quite literally shattered his heart in his chest when she broke up with him five or so months ago. And maybe he wasn’t over it yet. But watching a six-year relationship implode overnight was a rather jarring experience and Rooster felt that he was entitled to be a little petty about it.

“Nat, why the fuck are you talking about Naomi?”

“When was the last time that you talked with her?” Phoenix insisted, ignoring Rooster’s squawk.

“When she broke up with me,” he deadpanned, starting to pace around. He ignored the curious and concerned glances from the other Daggers. “There? You happy, Nat? Now why are you bringing up my ex all of a sudden?”

There was a brief pause, but then Phoenix’s voice cut through the line with her usual crisp confidence.

“She’s in Miramar, Rooster. And she needs to talk to you.”

“Why is she in Miramar?” Rooster asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Because she needs to talk to you.”

“She could have called or texted me.”

“Don’t you still have her blocked?” Phoenix questioned, a bit of annoyance seeping into her tone.

“Well . . . you know what I mean, Nat,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why is she here? Did you talk to her?”

“I’m with her right now.”

“What!? Right now?”

“Yes, Rooster. We’re at a coffee shop a few blocks from the beach.” Phoenix paused, most likely weighing her options before adding, “You really need to talk to her, Rooster. And I’m not fucking around. Don’t make me drag your ass down here.”

“She made it clear that she didn’t see a future with me, Nat. Why do I want to deal with that again? Why should I deal with that again?”

“I know that she broke your heart. I know that you felt completely blindsided and betrayed and every other negative emotion when she broke up with you.” Phoenix trailed off, and Rooster could picture her stern expression clearly. “But you need to talk to her. Now.”

“Why?”

“It shouldn’t come from me,” Phoenix stated seriously. “Look, I can give her my phone and you two can chat. But you need to talk to her, Rooster. And I’m not fucking around. And I know that you'll regret it if you don't talk to her now.”

Rooster sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with clear aggravation.

“Fine. Put her on.”

“Thank you,” Phoenix sighed, sounding relieved.

“Bradley?” Naomi’s voice broke through a moment later.

“Yes?” Rooster snipped, failing at hiding his annoyance.

“How are you?” she began softly.

“Fine. Why are you in Miramar?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“We shouldn’t have this conversation over the phone,” Naomi stated, standing her ground on that part. “I have some news to share with you and I . . . I need to do it in person.”

“Why?”

“You’ll understand when you get here.”

Rooster let out an annoyed curse under his breath and rubbed his face, clearly aggravated. He stared up at the sky for a second before finally responding to her.

“Fine. Where are you?”

“The Green Café,” Naomi replied, sounding relieved. “It’s about four or five blocks from the beach.”

“Okay.”

Rooster hung up the phone and tucked it into his back pocket. Grabbing his bag, Rooster ignored everyone’s curious gazes and turned for the parking lot.

“What’s got your panties all in a twist?” Hangman called after Rooster.

Ignoring Hangman, Rooster flipped him off as he trudged through the sand. He walked up the steps to the boardwalk and spotted Bob with Payback and Fanboy pulling into the parking lot in Phoenix’s car. Rooster ignored their looks, which seemed to be shocked and nervous more than anything else, and headed straight for his car.

The drive to the Green Café was simple and Rooster quickly parked before heading over to the outdoor seating. Phoenix and Naomi were chatting at one of the tables and Phoenix quickly spotted him. Rooster shot Phoenix an annoyed look before turning to Naomi.

But when Naomi turned around, Rooster literally froze in place. His breath left his body and his keys clattered down onto the sidewalk as his eyes focused on the very noticeable baby bump that Naomi was now sporting.

That wasn’t there the last time that he saw her.

“I’m going to give the two of you some privacy,” Phoenix announced, which did little to quell Rooster’s shock. “Have fun.”

Phoenix walked around the table and over to Rooster. She quickly bent down to snatch up his keys and kept walking towards where he parked the Bronco. And Rooster was still too stunned at the fact that Naomi was sitting right there in front of him and pregnant to grab his keys back.

Naomi offered Rooster a small, awkward smile. Her hands trembled with nerves as she smoothed her hands over her bump.

“Hi, Bradley.”

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[leahrintarou]

🝮︎︎︎︎︎︎︎ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 18 🝮︎︎︎︎︎︎︎ (pt.2)

pt.1 of this chapter: click here

NSFW!

y/n turned off her motorcycle before kicking out the stand. taking slow steps, she entered the dim tunnel that was slightly illuminated by the occasionally flickering led lights in the ceiling. "so you actually do know this place" suna muttered, mostly to himself. y/n rolled her eyes, noticing that he still had his helmet on. "you can take it off, you know? they're long gone."

"is that your excuse to see my face?" suna's monotone made y/n almost believe that he was expecting an answer, but when the helmet was removed and the smile that was etched between two silver hoops made it's presence known, she kept her mouth shut. "thanks, sweetheart." he finally said, placing the helmet on the throttle of his motorcycle. suna took a step closer to y/n and she took one backwards, making him quirk an eyebrow. "you owe me." she said, voice stern and suddenly serious. "oh really? what do you need?"

she remained quiet and her gaze flickered to his lips before holding his eyes once again. he let out an amused hum and took another step closer to y/n, now leaning down closer to her face. "or maybe it's something you want?" his eyes fell onto her lips in synchronization with the last word of his sentence and y/n found herself leaning in. if she didn't know any better, she'd think that suna's lips were pulling her towards him. a firm palm rested on her lower back, pulling her hips to meet with his own. y/n was about to back out, suddenly feel overwhelmed due to her heightened senses.

she felt everything, the touch of his palm against her back, and the other hand trailing up her waist. she heard everything, the rasped breathing of suna's breath against her parted lips. the scent of his cologne filled her nostrils and y/n finally took a good look at his features. the green's of his eyes were nearly non-existent as the deep black of his pupils nearly drowned out the entire iris.

his tongue swiped against her bottom lip and she parted her lips further, allowing suna to lean in further to take in more of her. his lips were warm and the cold metal of his snakebites sent goosebumps to rise on her chilled skin. y/n let out a small sound, biting down on suna's lip a bit harshly. what was she trying to get at exactly? no clue, she thought. all she knew was that it was futile since suna only smiled against her, the edges of his teeth slightly raking her bottom lip. "god, you really are a masochist." she pulled back, taking in the slight reddening lips of the motorcyclist. "and you really are a sadist. works out for the both of us, huh sweetheart?"

he carefully guided y/n a few steps back, never breaking contact as he made her sit down sideways on the seat of his motorcycle. as he leaned in further, y/n couldn't help but tilt her head back to get a better angle. a moan fell past her lips and the sound was only amplified due to the vacancy of the tunnel creating an echo. suna pants a breath into the kiss, hands lowering to the waist of y/n's pants. "yes or no?"

"or."

"come on, y/n. you're killing me here." his voice was raspy and it faltered slightly on the last word when he pressed his lower half closer to y/n's body. he stood in between her thighs, fingers fumbling with the zipper of her bottoms. y/n took a sharp inhale as the cold metal from one of his rings grazed her bare abdomen. "yes."

with that simple word that was more of a command than conformation, suna let out a shaky breath when the tips of his fingertips grazed the warmth of y/n's clothed sex. his lips parted from y/n's and she pulled down the collar of his hoodie to place messy kisses along his adams apple and down to his collar bone. his throat trembled as he groaned at the feeling. the pads of his fingers applied an increasing pressure against her sensitive bud and before suna could start to tease her, she mumbled something into the crook of his neck.

"what was that, beautiful?"

"touch me, suna."

"i am." he smiled, feeling a bit bad when a wavering moan fell past her lips. "oh, you mean like this?" this time suna removed his hand from her pants before skillfully slipping them behind the fabric of her underwear. she reached for his wrist, squeezing tightly after he applied an overwhelming pressure against her sensitive bud. "is this what you wanted?" suna used a free hand to gently grip her jaw to look up at him. "talk to me." his voice was soft but his grip tightened, making y/n shoot him a lazy glare. that look of intimidation only faltered when he began moving circular motions with the pads of two fingers. her eyebrows furrowed and her lips parted, letting the breaths of pleasure escape into the atmosphere. she strained in an attempt to hold back her moans and suna noticed this. "go quiet on me and I'll make it impossible for you to shut up."

her eyes met with suna and it was one of the rare times that he was dead serious. "is that supposed to threaten me?" she let out a breathy laugh and suna shrugged, speeding up his motions in mere seconds. "i don't know, sweetheart. why is it that you wanna stay quiet?" he started.

"do you not want me to know that i make you feel this good?"

she grunted when he used a knee to part her legs that were daring to close. "you can tell me whatever you want, but the fact that you're drenching my fingers say otherwise-"

y/n smashed her lips against suna, his words finally reaching the point of pure torture. usually she'd have something to say for every one of his snarky comments, but she couldn't get a word out even if she tried right now. it was becoming harder to stay quiet and even harder to try and hold off. "relax..stop fighting it." suna said, slowing down his motions. y/n let out a sad whine at the slower pace of the high that she was chasing. her nostrils flared and an indignant stare was given to him. "come onnn. don't be like that, sweetheart."

"stop teasing, s-suna.." her voice quivered with his name as a moan fell past her lips when he trailed his fingers down to her entrance before sliding them back up to her bud, slick making a mess against his hand. "f-fuck, suna..." his name was drawn out in a pleasure filled sound when he caught y/n off guard by resuming his previous motions with an unbearable pressure and pace. she tilted her head back, giving suna easy access to the bare area of her neck while he placed a firm hold on her knee to keep her thighs from closing in on his hand. 

"let go for me, beautiful." he croaked next to her ear as he placed open mouth kisses to her neck and shoulder. she lifted her head, reaching for suna's nape to bring him down closer to her. y/n buried her face into the crook of his next, edges of her teeth biting down on the rising purple hued blotches that was forming on his neck. "don't..." she began, repeated swears falling upon suna's ear.

"don't what?"

"don't stop..please."

"why on earth would i ever do something like that?" suna pulled back, desperately in need of swallowing up every sound that passed her lips. he did just that, tongue lapping at her own as her moans became more strained. her chest heaved against his and suna couldn't help but pick up the pace of his fingers even more. his arm practically burned, but it was a small price to pay in return of something worth more than he could fathom. y/n was falling apart under his fingers. literally.

"make a mess for me, sweetheart."

with a strained groan, y/n finally came undone under suna, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip as her thighs wrapped around his hand. suna forced her leg back to it's spread position, not failing to keep up the pace that was now driving y/n insane. she babbled chants of his name, attempting to reach for his wrist, but he only used a free hand to hold both her wrists together and away from his occupied fingers. her legs trembled, and her voice was hoarse as she called his name once more. sternly this time.

he tipped her chin up as she tiredly blinked at him with furrowed eyebrows. "i hate you." she huffed, moving to close her legs. it was then when suna pulled his hand out of her clothes and fingers meeting y/n's bottom lip. he crashed his lips against her own, the taste of her arousal lingering on either of their tongues. after pulling back, suna nonchalantly licked the remainder of her slick off of two more fingers, low lidded eyes latched onto the hazy one's of y/n.

she heard him let out a sigh and her eyes traveled down to his lap, noticing his current problem. she looked up at him, curious expression on her face when he shook his head. "im fine, don't worry about that." he shrugged, moving closer to y/n to re-button her pants. "are you sure suna? i feel bad-"

"next time, sweetheart."

"next time?"

"mhm. now that i know what you taste like, it's gonna be even fucking harder to get you off of my mind."

she shoved his chest, yet he barely reacted. both of his palms laid flat on her thighs, trailing behind her to her lower back before cupping her backside. "you've got work tomorrow, right?" his gaze was softer now and y/n noticed it was a look that she'd yet to see. admiring the encapsulating image that peaked through his lashes, y/n mindlessly nodded with a hum. "then you should get home."

she quickly glanced at her legs and suna saw how the tremor had yet to leave. "in...ten minutes?" y/n nodded to suna and he gave her ass a small squeeze before leaning his forehead down on her shoulder, inhaling her comforting and familiar scent. y/n reached an arm around him, fingertips carding through his hair to readjust the tickling strands. suna let out a soft moan and y/n froze in place until he let out a muffled chuckle. "that feels good. keep doing that, sweetheart." y/n resumed her actions and suna hummed in the crook of her neck in content at her comforting actions.

"you know, this is only making me harder.."

and with a startled and aggressive shove to his shoulder, suna took a step back with a shit-eating grin, k-9's grazing against the metal hoops. a breathy laugh erupted from his throat as y/n let out a sigh at the thoughts currently flying around in her head. 

oh how she wish they'd all crash into the middle of an ocean to never be discovered by anyone...including herself. 

HELLO :)

this is the nsfw half of chapter 18 of ride or die. show ur support here or on wattpad. tysm for reading :)

[yes-divine-ruler]

Hi queen!!! I wanted to ask if you can write a blurb about Kai using a vibrator on his girlfriend and being really sweet and reassuring while he whispers in her ear about her taking it so well since he has it on the highest level of intensity. I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW!!!💞💞💕

cw: overstimulation

“Oh baby, stop crying,” Kai only applied more pressure, and it almost sent you into a fit. The tears rolled effortlessly down your cheeks at the vibrations shot through your core.

“I can’t Kai,” you whined, beginning to hiccup from the crying, your eyes closing as Kai ran his fingers through your hair.

“You can baby, my god, you’re taking it so well,” Kai whispered praise into your ear, kissing your forehead that was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. The fire in your lower abdomen was becoming more and more unbearable, and soon you felt yourself reach yet another orgasm.

“That’s it baby, come again for me,” Kai encouraged you through your orgasm, as you wiggled under his hold, one of his big hands prying your legs open, the other holding the vibrator against your clit.

The orgasm coursed through you in large waves, and when it was over, Kai removed the vibrator from you completely. You were exhausted, panting to try and even your breathing, as Kai peppered kisses across your check to the corner of your mouth.

“My pretty girl,” he muttered, his finger tips now caressing the skin of your inner thigh, trying to help you regain some level of consciousness. You knew that if you’d try to speak, it would come out all muddled and slurred, so there was no point. The tears continued to cascade down your crimson-hued cheeks in a steady stream, as you rested your head back against the pillow.

Kai was by your side, mumbling praise into your hair. You thought it was over, 6 orgasms in, but it wasn’t. It was far from over, not until you made up for embarrassing him in front of his friends.

You hadn’t noticed Kai clicked the vibrator back on, and it hummed to full intensity. You were throbbing, and slick with the arousal of multiple orgasms, and so sensitive it might even hurt to close your legs.

He settled the head of the vibrator against your thigh, a gasp escaping your lips in surprise.

“Kai- nonono, I can’t anymore, please,” you begged, using all your strength to try and move his hand away. He only chuckled, moving the vibrator to just above your sensitive heat.

“You know you owe it to me pretty girl,” he spoke lowly, his voice laced with hunger, “then you’ll have to take my cock in that sensitive cunt and let me fill you with my cum.”

[maz1e]

content: sanegiyuu, two gay men, ooc.. also I may or may not owe my friend a kunikida smutfic but I was too lazy to make one now it's 2am and I made sanegiyuu lol ALSO ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT minors dni, read at your own risk.

Sanemi's other hand discreetly finds its way to Giyuu's waist, his touch sending shivers down his spine. He explores every inch of Giyuu's mouth, savoring the taste and the intoxicating sensation of their closeness. Their bodies press against each other, the heat between them undeniable. Sanemi's hips subtly grind against Giyuu's, a silent invitation for more. His desire burns hot, and he can feel the telltale throb of his arousal against Giyuu's leg. Lost in their heated embrace, Sanemi breaks the kiss momentarily, his breath heavy and his voice dripping with desire. "You feel so good, Giyuu..” He teases him with his lingering touches as he gently guides Giyuu to sit down, Sanemi stands before him, his eyes fixed on him with a hunger that cannot be contained. Slowly, he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing the taut muscles underneath, the smooth expanse of his chest. As the shirt falls to the ground, he moves closer, his hands caressing Giyuu's shoulders, tracing the lines of his collarbone. Leaning down, Sanemi presses his lips against Giyuu's neck, leaving a trail of soft, tantalizing kisses along his skin. His hands roam lower, gliding over the contours of Giyuu's body, exploring every dip and curve. With each touch, his desire intensifies, his need for Giyuu growing stronger. His fingertips brush against the waistband of Giyuu's pants, teasingly undoing the button and drawing the zipper down. He slips his hand inside, his touch feather-light against the sensitive skin of Giyuu's abdomen. "You're so beautiful," Sanemi whispers, his voice filled with a mix of reverence and desire. "I want to worship every inch of you."

[heliosthegriffin]

The Witch is overpowered, but overly sensitive to pain

"This is it, Salem!" Jaune shouts.

Ruby slices through a line of Beowolves. "We're here to take you down for good!"

"Oh ho ho, well come and try it!" Salem poses dramatically, pointing a hand at them.

Jaune moves in front of Ruby, taking a hit of magic with his shield. Ruby lowers Crescent Rose on his shoulder, aiming at Salem's heart, if she still possessed one.

Salem does even dodge the shot, a shimmering shield of rainbow-colored magic blocking it, the bullet ricocheting above her, hitting the ceiling.

The bullet hits a gargoyle on the wall, making it wobble, then fall down. It drops like a heavy rock off a cliff. It falls down right next to Salem, and she is distracted.

Ruby speeds forward and cuts through the shield with the blade of her scythe, Jaune following behing her, pushes her back with his shield, and then kick her's in the abdomen.

"OW! FUCK! Ow-ow-ow!" Salem buckles over, breathing hard. Jaune stands uneasily over her, his sword held high, but not quite sure what to do next. He looks to Ruby, who awkwardly shuffles holding Cresent Rose.

Salem falls to her knees, holding her stomach. "Fuff-ha, fuff-ah. Shit, ow." She looks at Jaune in betrayal. "What the hell, man? Who goes and does that to a lady!?"

Jaune's eyes flicker to and fro guiltily. "Um, we're fighting." "Yeah, but like a high-fantasy magic battle! Where beams go pew-pew!"

"I'm not a wizard. I don't have a gun that make pew-pew."

Salem breathes heavily. "I noticed! Ah, my dad might have put me in a tower most of my life, but nobody's ever hit me before! Ah, ouch."

Jaune looked to Ruby, who seemed to have caught a case of second-hand shame. "Ruby over there has a gun and stuff, and shoot lasers of her eyes." Jaune offed.

"Yeah, I'm used to that! It's normal to shoot and use lasers on me, but who punches a lady in the gut?!"

"Kicked. And, I mean Yang, did that to you?"

"That was a double! A body double made of Grimm Ooze!"

Jaune noticed Ruby edging out of the room, but locked her down with a meaningful gaze. Which meant, 'You helped me get into this, you're helping me get out.'.

"I was back here playing Total Remnant Destruction!" Salem moaned, balling up on the floor.

Ruby around and offered a sympathetic hand to Salem. "Hey, hey how about we start this over, and without any hand-to-hand, or gut kicks." Ruby said, giving Jaune a awakward look, which he returned.

Salem took the hand. "Ok, lets do that."

Ruby then gave a pull.

One she did too fast, accidentally giving the Witch a headbutt, causing Ruby to stumble back groaning, as she didn't have her aura up, and Salem fell back to the ground, holding her forehead.

"AH! Ozpin blowing me was less painful!"

Jaune looked at her pathetic form. "I thought that was a double? When Oscar blew up the whale?"

"I was talking about when the first time he did it! When you get blown up with magic, it doesn't it hurt, it like a weird tickle, or your leg falling asleep and then waking back up!' She accidentally bent over, causing her bruised stomach to spasm.

"Oh no, uh urg. I think I'm going to throw up!" Salem's pale face went red.

"Jaune help her!" Ruby said urgently. "She got her hair in her face, don't let it get all messy!"

"Why me?" Jaune moaned, going over to help her.

"Because out of the three of us, you have the most experience with throwing up!"

Jaune scowled, but pulled back Salem's hair, causing her to cry, "Too rough, be more gentle -urggg!" She started hurling over Jaune's boots black ichor, with little tenacles and limbs flaying about.

Jaune's gaze went dead, but continued to hold her hair back, and offer gentle words of comfort, and little rubs on the shoulder blades, promising that everything would get better.

After moving her away from the vomit, and getting rid of his Grimm-stained boots, Salem started crying into his lap, and Jaune realized with horror, that Ruby had abandoned him when he wasn't looking. Probably unable to withstand the sheer uncomfortable air that came with caring for the person you were trying to destroy mere minutes ago.

Then he heard soft snoring. Looking down, the Grimm Queen had fallen asleep. She was almost cute like this, other than the black ichor around her mouth, which he took care of with a spare hanky, which was now quickly dissolving.

Jaune quickly resigned himself to being her awhile, and took out a book he had been meaning to finish, and now seemed just as good a time as any. He put on a pair of reading glasses, and gently patted Salem's head, hoping that she'd stay asleep for a while, and while doing so, keep the world from being destroyed for a bit longer.

---

An: I always thought it would be funny if Salem had a extremly low tolerance for pain, because how much it would contrast her being normally a mostly invincible villain and being a caster type fighter, who isn't used to getting up close and personal.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Eivor x Fem!Reader - A Barbaric Masquerade

Kinktober 03: Roleplay [explicit]

Contains: strap-on usage

Word count: 1333

Ao3 link here.

Men, minors and ageless/default blogs DNI. You will be blocked immediately upon interaction.

Wools and linens spilled from the cedar wardrobe. Jewellery and silverware sat piled-high in a crate to the side. There was an axe lodged in the door. An upturned table, the bowls once adorning the wood strewn across the floor in an organised chaos. Four candles, scattered about the room, bathing the walls in an infernal glow.

A rampaged scene. Convincing, too. You owed yourselves a pat on the back.

She loomed by the window, a monolith of black leather and marauder’s steel. Sturdy buckles lined her shadowy breastplate, straining against the one full-sleeve on her left arm, stopping dead at the well-worn bracers wrapped around the thick forearms of a warrior. Her other arm bared itself to the candlelight between the shoulder-guard and glove, obscuring a fading summer’s tan with an amber that disappeared into a map of runic ink.

Your breath hitched in your throat under the weight of her smug, glacial gaze. Those eyes were a piercing frost, yet their menacing stare only warmed your blood; they challenged you, a cornered doe, to follow her every move.

Slowly, a gloved hand reached for her studded belt. The faint clinking of metal sliced through an otherwise silent night as she loosened the buckle. The belt languorously slid free from its iron confines. Her stare remained unbroken, waiting for the gasp that would soon fly from your parted lips as her trousers rode an inch lower, revealing a bulbous leather tip flush against her abdomen.

The drengr’s smirk neither widened nor faltered at your shameless gaze. She made no remark towards the subtle rise and fall of your chest, or the sorry pressing of your thighs together in a pitiful attempt to lessen the deep-set, raw, pounding ache between them.

“Your village is in ruins, your folk cowering amongst the ashes.” She spoke in a cadent rasp – a rich wine laced with a bitter ale. “But you…” A heavy boot stepped forward. The shadow cast by her hulking frame crept closer. “You haven’t fled. Haven’t begged, or flinched, or screamed. How come?”

Give it an hour, and you’d be doing two of those things in plenty, lilted an eager voice in your head. For now, you’d play the damsel. “Curiosity,” came your dainty reply, just loud enough for you to hear past your roaring pulse.

Her smirk widened into a nefarious grin. Predatory. A sticky dampness taunted you between your legs as you squirmed in place.

“You’re a curious little mouse, are you?” She advanced by a step, then another. With nothing behind you but a wall, you retreated until your back met stone. The brute hummed, “From the state of you, one could only guess as to what.”

“Oh?” you feigned innocence, eyes flicking to the betrayal of a faux phallus peeking above her trousers.

She cocked her brow, gesturing to your frame with a wave of her hand. “Am I to believe you wear this sort of thing to bed?” she laughed.

You had donned a pale linen tunic earlier that evening, far too loose around the contours of your body – designed for a far broader silhouette. Its ill-fitting neckline kissed the skin below your clavicle, its hem dancing just shy of the curve of your behind. Too short to be chaste, too transparent to obscure the figure underneath.

Sweetly, you toyed with the garment. “Did you expect me to change, drengr? I heard the horn, and before I knew it, a raider had forced her way into my home and ravaged my silver.” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, core pulsing with need.

She sauntered towards you, boots thudding against the wooden slats of the floor. “And you didn’t protest. You let me do as I pleased,” she smirked. “You know, if you bite that lip any harder, you’ll draw blood.”

Heat flooded your face as you withdrew your teeth. “Perhaps…I’ve heard tales of the víkingar ravaging more than just silver,” you stuttered.

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” she dropped her voice to a murmur. The light from the flames faded to black as she reached you, toes all but touching. Not much more than a fist could fit between the steel of her armour and the stiff peaks of your nipples. A calloused thumb and gloved forefinger tilted your chin up to meet her gaze, dark with prurient intention. She continued in a coarse purr, “I could see the shimmer of something sweet smeared across those lovely thighs from across the room. You wore this sheer, damnable little thing, hoping someone a-viking would plow you like a maiden in those old wives’ tales.”

Your breathing quickened. If your arousal was apparent before, by now, it was glaring.

Lowly, she hummed, “Let’s say I’m feeling generous.”

Deliberately slow, she reached down to her unfastened belt. There was a rustle – you didn’t dare look away from her hungry eyes – followed by a tapping sensation against your covered mound. The sound was distinct: the faint thudding of leather. Every gentle pap sent a spark through your core.

Her thumb caressed your bottom lip, before carefully pulling the flesh downwards, exposing your lower row of teeth in a tantalising display of power. The brute mused something wolfish and devastating. “I could spear you right here, against this wall. Fuck you until the wood is soaked with your spend. If I’m feeling cruel, I might taste that dripping cunt until pretty tears stream down your cheeks. Then I’d take you all over again, until you were nothing but a sore, pathetic mess.”

Breathing failed you. There was a fleeting second in which you thought your heart had stopped, coupled with a near-buckling of your knees. Tonight, you craved that cruelty. A wicked, savage pounding. You ached for it.

Consumed by unbridled need, you abandoned the theatrics: “Gods, Eivor, just fuck me already.”

She needed no further encouragement. The charade had concluded, although that predatory smirk remained steadfast on her scarred lips. Eivor reached for the vial of oil she secured to her belt with twine, deftly unravelling the knot holding it in place.

“I’m wet enough, gods—”

“You know I’m not going to be gentle.”

“Good—”

“So let me do this,” she urged you, continuing to work at the vial. “Just a few seconds. You know it’ll feel better.”

Frantically, you nodded. “Okay, but hurry,” you whined. Eivor tutted as she finally disentangled the twine, freeing the glass from its confines. A soft ‘pop’ sounded as she discarded the cork and poured the viscous liquid over the cock strapped to her hips. She tossed the empty vial across the room, unflinching when it shattered. Hastily, she pumped her hand around the shaft, coating it fully with the oil.

With familiar ease, she knelt down and lifted you up by your thighs. Your heart dropped as her oil-slick hand slipped across your bare skin, but she reflexively repositioned you, hooked her arms under your knees and pressed you against the wall, holding you by the hips with your calves hanging limp. Swearing under her breath, she glanced down at the phallus now nestled between your abdomens. “Could you—”

“Yeah,” you whispered, snaking a hand around to guide the tip into your dripping, expectant heat, breathing out shakily as it disappeared inside without a trace of resistance. Eivor took the sound as an affirmation.

Swiftly, she filled you, impaling you on her leather cock until the hilt slapped against your mound. The oil glazing the toy and your nectar melded with a debauched schlick. You gripped onto the golden hairs atop her head, crying out as the delightful thickness split you open, the seams of the hide dragging perfectly against your sensitive walls. Grunting, she drove your back into the wall, roughly thrusting up into you, grinding her cock deeper still. Deeper, into every pleasurable nerve, until your vision speckled with white, until you felt it in your throat.

As for her earlier pledge?

Eivor would honour every fucking word of it.

[deviant-doughnut]

Augusnippets: Day Twenty-Six

Chosen Prompt: Nightmare

CW: robot whump, previous captivity; previous torture

“Please record identifying marker,” says model R200, the first words it has ever spoken. It does not know where it is, does not recognise the darkness surrounding it.

And yet it has been here before.

In the nightmare, it happens again. Both in binary and in abstract this time, in ones and zeros and in visions stuttering through the planes of its unconsciousness — a night sky of unbearable anguish beneath the rhythmic ticking of its internal mechanisms. It’s dread in all its most vivid colours. It’s the cool metal table against the flesh they designed to mimic humanness. It feels human to R200, able to gauge temperature, capable of pain and pleasure both. And it feels human to its makers, soft and pliant and easily bruised.

In the nightmare, its body is not a body but there are hands on it all the same. It is made of the most exquisite plasticine their factory could manufacture. It flickers to consciousness with a sense of its purpose — a first responder of sorts; awaiting further programming but predisposed to be a force of unbiased good in the world. It is not human, is not alive, and it is okay with this.

“Please record identifying marker…” it tries again. No one responds.

In the nightmare, his wrists are cinched tight against the metal. The door creaks open, light spilling into the basement around him. It’s there and then gone, the shadows dank and stifling as the presence in his nightmare approaches him. They took R200 from the storeroom, from the post-production line area. Somewhere above it, meetings are held between city bureaucrats and the people who made R200. Its counterparts are assigned their departments — their specific and deliberate purposes — but R200 is kept under the storeroom.

“The company owes us,” its captor says simply, scalpel in hand, a different kind of metal glinting in the half light.

“Are you my creator?” R200 asks. Its captor simply sneers.

“I’m your worst nightmare, actually,” the man replies, voice a low and satisfied draw. Your lot might destroy mankind one day. I figure we’re entitled to fuck at least one of you up first.

“Please record identifying marker.” R200 replies, its tone impacted by the data available to it. Something here is incorrect. Its voice, however, doesn’t shake until long after the cutting begins, the scalpel lowering to the bare flesh of its chest, the tip digging through forged flesh and into the metal beneath.

“Let’s see how much it takes,” says its attacker, “to make you short circuit forever.”

He cuts deeper then, always deeper. The pain shoots wildly through R200’s structure — a tidal wave, a roaring sea of screams and misfiring programs. Wires spark and burst, liquid as black as onyx pouring over it, pulsing from its cables and out over its skin. Its voice grows higher and higher, its pain receptors detecting emergency. It hasn’t been fully programmed yet. It doesn’t know how to respond. “Please record identifying marker! Please record identifying marker! Please!”

”Alan,” replied the first of its many attackers, the scalpel scraping loudly through its abdomen as the man snarled with vindication above him. “Your name, you worthless piece of shit, is Alan. And you’re mine.”

Alan wakes up screaming.

He’s tied up until he isn’t, until he thrashes against his restraints and all that gives way is bedsheets. He kicks them off of his overheating body, electricity spiking hotly under his skin. His metal heart pounds upwards into overdrive, and he sits up so quickly to assess the threat that the world tilts dangerously around him.

“Hey,” comes a desperate whispers. Alan searches the shadows in frenzy. He gasps for breaths he does not need, touches his hand to his sternum and peers down at his unbloodied fingertips afterwards. No one has cut him. Nothing is damaged, and there’s no one watching from the shadows. The mattress creaks beneath the weight of another, and Alan startles until he remembers.

It’s Rowan, only Rowan. Alan’s emergency system falls quiet, threat assessment overruled by Rowan’s brown eyes staring back at him, wide, pinprick pupils, scared for nothing but Alan himself. Alan’s throat aches, a touch of humanness he was immune to before that basement. He was designed to be perfect, flawless, forever poised and ready to serve. And then his attackers tore him apart and Alan learned how to feel terror and helplessness. They are feelings he has never liked, and they threaten to choke him now. He stares down helplessly into his lap, and wishes he’d never learned how to cry.

“Shhh,” Rowan whispers, easing closer towards him. Alan’s tears run black as night, like ink trickling down over his sculpted cheeks, marring the set of his deliberately designed visage in the night. Rowan draws Alan closer, until Alan reaches out in turn and their bodies rise and fall together, a type of symbiosis, Alan’s breathing matched to Rowan’s own, almost like the accidental absorption of an accent. He wonders if their hears sound the same when they beat, their lungs when they expand and contract. Alan cries ink into the white shoulder of Rowan’s sleep tee. Rowan rubs his back, human and sweet. He whispers that it’s okay, promises him over and over until Alan loses partial vision in his eyes from crying, his tears so black that they temporarily stain him — his irises, his corneas.

“No one can hurt you here,” Rowan tells him. “They’re all dead, baby. All the people who ever hurt you are dead.”

“I’m not alive either,” Alan reminds him, “and it hurts all the same.”

“You’re alive,” Rowan protests. “You exist in the world and they don’t anymore. You’re with me, and they’re in the ground. What was left of them, anyway.”

“I suppose,” Alan concedes, miserable and exhausted and halfway to collapse.

“I suppose,” Rowan echoes, rubbing his back as he eases him back down to the mattress. “Lie down and sleep, Al. No matter what happens in your nightmares, I promise you’ll wake up right here, and I will be beside you.”

“Beside me,” Alan whispers. He shuts his eyes when Rowan smiles. It’s too much sometimes, the way he makes it all sound so simple. The truth is Alan needs more information to understand this. Androids were never supposed to be like this — feeling, connected, traumatised. What was forged in that basement was something different. He lives in hiding to protect his fellow androids. If anyone learned that torture could do this, that stripping their wires from their bodies while they wailed was a way to shock emotions into action…

Alan dreads to think of such a world where that notion was common knowledge.

Rowan holds him close and Alan is not supposed to feel. He is designed for perfect objectivity, but the scalpel carved that out of his chest. Rowan kisses his feverish forehead, and smoothes down the mess of his hair. Rowan hums until sleep swirls around him, ready to pull him once again under its waves. He leans into the touch and he identifies the lullaby. Part of him wishes they’d never turned him human in that basement. Another part, the part that falls asleep tracking the gentle beats of Rowan’s heart, thinks it might have been worth it after all.

-

Thanks to @augusnippets for this event!

[juvnvalen]

hiiii!

about your Yandere Tennant profile... and that it mentioned

"she lets her darling pleasure her"

may u pls do a fic of it??? if its okay though!

(Nsfw plis🥺👉👈💍)

Have not written lately head empty. I'm super fixated on apex rn pretty short fic but we balling :3 keep in mind not proofread, so don't mind errors ^^ Pairing: Tennant x Fem Reader (FxF) TW: NSFW, Ooc behavior, and obligatory tennant warning.

You laid casually on the bed, your head rested on her lap as she read through a newspaper. Her fingers gently comed through your hair, and you sighed wistfully at the soft contact.

A hand found made its way up to her abdomen, tugging playfully at the hem of her pants. She glanced down at you at the contact, but didn’t say a word, her gaze lingingering on you.

You sat up, moving to straddle her, you removed the paper from her hands and tossed it to the side carelessly. Her expression changed from one of peacefulness to a cocky smirk.

“Something you need, darling?” Her hands moved to your back, tugging you closer to her.

“There’s lots I need, where should I start?” You whispered teasingly, her eyes rolling playfully. One of her hands tugged at her shirt, looking at you expectantly. “Take it off.” She demanded, and of course you obliged.

She left a teasing kiss against your collarbone, slowly making her way down to your chest. She softly nipped against one of your nipples, causing you to let out a needy whine.

“Ada, love of my life, my one and only, I have a request.” She removed her face from your chest, focusing on your face. “Hm?”

“I was wondering, if maybe, you’d allow me to pleasure you this time?”

Out of every night you and Ada had spent together, and it had been a lot, she’d never allowed you to reciprocate her treatment. You had asked before, and of course she had said no, her reasoning being she simply preferred giving it to you instead.

Ada rolled her eyes, sighing as she let herself relax against the bed. “Ugh.. I’d much rather service you my lady, wouldn’t you prefer that?” You groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes at her. “Please? Just this once? I wanna make you feel good baby,” you cooed out, almost as if you were talking to a baby.

She looked away thoughtfully, a blush coating her cheeks. “I suppose, I’ll allow it. You’ll owe me.” You beamed at the response, squealing gleefully.

“Alright, take your pants off.” Ada lifted an eyebrow teasingly, but complied anyway.

You ran your hands against the now bare skin of her legs, you lowered yourself to your stomach, pushing her thighs apart gently. You left soft kisses against the inside of her thighs, nipping at the skin teasingly. She let out a surprised squeak, uncharacteristic of the dominant woman.

You ran a finger through her folds, unsurprised to find her absolutely soaked. You toyed with her clit teasingly, not letting your fingers linger in any one place for too long. Rough moans and choked whimpers escaped her, her hands gripping your shoulders.

“Stop that,” She whispered out, her nails digging into your skin.

She felt a spark of triumph at her begging, giving into her pleas. You lowered your head, lapping your tongue against her heat, she let out a loud cry. You were surprised to learn how noisy she was when receiving.

Her hands moved from your shoulders to your head, her hips jerking forward to meet your touch. Her fingers tangled gripped your hair roughly, yanking your head forward, her grip refused to let you move for air.

Her hips frantically humped against your face, high pitch whines falling from her lips. “More- Good girl, k-keep going!” She squeaked out, her voice high and needy.

Ada’s head fell back with a loud moan, her hips stuttering. You felt a gush of wetness against your face, her hips thrusting forward a few more times before falling still.

You drew back, gasping for air as you braced yourself by holding onto Ada’s shoulders. “Wow, you’re easy.” Ada scoffed in response, flopping down on the bed. You laid down as well, resting on your side.

“I enjoyed that.. Maybe you could do it again sometime.” She whispered huskily, you felt a spark of triumph at the victory. “Glad you enjoyed it.” You nuzzled against her chest, taking you hand in hers and interlocking your fingers.

You let out a surprised squeak as Ada rolled you over, pinning you down, she looked down at you teasingly with a smirk. “My turn now?” She questioned teasingly. ♡♡

[silentvoicescryingout]

Steel - Chapter 2 (draft)

Previous chapter: 1

🔞🔞 Adult Content 🔞🔞

Made me, unmake me

Green eyes leveled at him, glinting like a freshly sharpened and polished blade. Pastel lashes lowered to shade jade eyes, casting a shadow that colored them darker, like rain soaked leaves after a summer storm. 

“Brute strength might have made you,” he muttered, taking slow, lazy steps around the circumference of the invisible boundary of Sakura’s turf.

He came to a stop, five paces behind her left shoulder. Her right ankle twitched, the heel shifted back by a tenth of a tenth of an inch.

“If left unrestrained,” he continued, marking the ripple of tension that rolled from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, “I can unmake you with nothing of the sort.”

“Save your riddles, Kakashi-sensei,” she snapped. “You agreed to train me.”

“So I did,” he sighed. Her next breath whooshed out audibly from between her teeth. “What if I told you it was to humor you in your moment of elevated emotion?”

Using the right foot, she pivoted, appearing before him in the blink of an eye, her fist curled tight in the front of his shirt. The flexible fabric popped under the strain of her grip.

“I’d say that you owe me,” she murmured. Despite the cool quality to her tone, her fingers yet trembled, ever-so slightly. “For all the time wasted, and the days you ignored me before. It’s the least you can do.”

“I acknowledge my failures,” he replied. He swallowed thick, eyed the deepening furrow between his former student’s fair brows, the dancing of freckles along the wrinkled bridge of her nose. 

“I’ve moved past wanting your acknowledgement.” Sakura released him with a shove that smarted, no doubt leaving a bruise. “I want you to create in me what you made of Naruto and Sasuke.”

He dodged her next blow, his blood pressure spiking in response to the reverberation of her fist smashing into the spot where his face could have been. The world whipped around in a whirlwind of color as she launched herself at him again and again, taking direct blows to her abdomen, her legs and face without as much as a flinch. 

With a frustrated growl, Sakura heaved herself up from the ground, swaying into an offensive stance. He stood rooted in the spot he was in before, unruffled and unmarred save for the throbbing bruise at his sternum.

“If you have to break me apart to make me strong,” she panted, sweeping dirt from her cheek with the back of a torn glove. “So be it.”

“That’s not a healthy mentality,” he mumbled, scratching at his chest. He glanced down lazily at his feet, toeing a bit of rock with his sandal. “I suspect this is perhaps a twisted sort of coping mechanism, and I must say I do not recommend it.”

Kakashi attempted to keep his tone light, aiming for brevity and familiarity. Inside him something curled in his gut, sickening him with the image of a pale, youthful face splattered with strangers’ blood and tiny gobbets of flesh.

“You’re the last person to talk to me about coping mechanisms,” Sakura spit, commingled saliva and blood falling, splat, to the side. “You’ve killed or found dead most of your loved ones and spend your free time reading porn or talking to headstones. I couldn’t care less to know what you consider ‘healthy’.”

“Now, that isn’t very nice.” His jaw clenched before he inhaled deeply through his nose, becoming the picture of relaxation once again. “My sweet Sakura-chan would never have talked to sensei like that.”

She scoffed, rushing toward him with yet another full frontal assault. Even as he maintained his composure and twisted away and around her attacks, his muscles strained and heart raced with adrenaline. 

Despite the assumed simplicity of her battle style, her technique was near-flawless. Sakura was fast, precise. Lethal. Each movement had a purpose and nothing was wasted from the flexing of her forearms to the touch of her toes to the ground. Kakashi knew that if she were to get her hands on him, he could very well be a dead man.

She fought with a ferocity born of trauma and marrow-deep determination. Her only  failure was being fresh, lacking the experience that had festered inside of him for decades; her terrors had accumulated over only a handful of years.

His knowledge of her talent was now supplemented with the new awareness of her capacity for cruelty. It frightened him, even as the part of him buried deep inside who once sought out shinobi for qualities just like that was…intrigued.

Her voice tore from her throat, ripped through his musings and brought him back to the present just in time to duck below a kick that likely would have freed his head from his shoulders:

“You never had any qualms about ruining your students before. Why do I have to be different?”

Because you are different, he thought. He wanted to say, this isn’t you.

Kakashi had to stop completely in his tracks, locking his hands around her wrists in a hold that he knew she could break. He stared down, into her green eyes that were so bright they seemed to glow, at the thick locks of pink brushing past her shoulders. 

He had seen that face so many times, watched it age and change slowly through the years. But everything, at this moment, looked so very unfamiliar. As if he hardly knew the girl–no, woman now– at all.

He wondered if he ever knew who Sakura was, if there was a Sakura to know— or if the young woman standing before him was an amalgamation of the people who had been there to form her. The compassion of her mother, wit of her master, quick temper from Naruto, hatred from Sasuke. That just barely cruel edge masked with pretty snark, everything Yamanaka Ino pruned her to be.

Kakashi wondered what, if anything, she might have inherited from him.

“If you want me to treat you like everyone else,” he said, shifting his feet ever-so-slightly, rolling his shoulders back, “so be it, then.” 

Her next swipe of a chakra-laden hand cut through a billow of leaves. In the next moment, her legs were kicked out from under her, Kakshi’s knee pressed to her nape, a kunai glinting next to her cheek.

She growled in frustration, the tips of her ears stained red as she bucked and thrashed, dislodging him from his position on her back.

“There is no honor in the field,” he said, watching her face as her eye flitted between his feet and hands. “There are no standards of ethics, no codes of conduct.”

“I have been in the field before,” Sakura hissed, her limbs almost trembling with pent up energy. “I haven’t just been sitting around playing pretty nurse.”

“Assume what you know of shinobi to be a lie,” he continued, marking how she bristled at his lack of response to her quip. “We are not heroes. Not ninja like us. We don’t fight to protect the weak and the poor, nor do we fight enemies because it is the right thing to do.”

“Let Naruto and Sasuke be the heroes,” she spat. Mint-green chakra condensed around her fists, morphing into blade-like protrusions between her knuckles. “I just want to get the job done.”

“If I asked you to assassinate a man who is not even a shinobi,” he asked, lowering his voice so he knew she would have to strain to hear it, “would you do it?”

A beat passed, a minute shift in her features come and gone within the span of a blink.

“Yes.”

“Hesitation,” he sighed. “You don't have the heart for it, Sakura-chan.”

“You don’t know me,” she barked, her hand snatching him by the collar for one brief second before his form slipped away with a poof, leaving a log in its place. 

“I do.”

“Everyone thinks they know who I am, what I’m capable of,” Sakura panted, swiping moisture from her brow and whirling to face him with a kunai glinting in her hand. “They make assumptions based on my background, on how I look, on who trained me–”

Their blades clanged, the force reverberating through the bones of his arm.

“–on who didn’t,” she whispered, baring her teeth and narrowing her eyes.

Kakashi allowed a tendril of electricity to zip between his fingers and crackle down the edge of his blade, watched as his former student flinched violently for a fraction of a second before she schooled her expression and steeled her grip.

“I don’t need to assume,” he said cooly, tightening his grip on his blade and his own emotions. He allowed his voice to deepen, his gaze to harden as he stared down into her pale, pinched face. “I know exactly who and what you are.”

“Yeah?” she grunted, bared her teeth. The tendons and his wrists began to ache, muscles bunching with strain as she slowly increased the force of her hand. “What am I, then?”

She had been angry since she arrived on the training grounds. But even as she cursed and spit nastiness at him, he knew that she was still restrained. By respect and her own inherent composure. 

He also knew just how to strip that all away.

“Just a civilian girl,” Kakashi whispered, “playing shinobi games.”

When he had pushed Sasuke to his limits, the immediate response was pure, unadulterated rage. Anger that had festered into a pestilence, that carried with it the stench of rotting trees and old blood. He could see in his mind’s eye that way the young boy’s features had twisted like gnarled roots, how his eyes had bled the deepest red. 

 As always, Sakura was different. In the split second after his words filled the air around them, an agonized expression stole across her face, slackened her jaw and pulled her eyes wide until the green pupils seemed like pinpricks in the whites of them. Her breath stalled in her throat, lips trembling and jaw clenching tight.

Within the blink of his eyes he was slammed backward, pain radiating like a vibration to his spine as a crater formed to his shape around him. He twisted his fingers through hand signs furiously, throwing a barrage at ninjutsu in her direction. It bought him a few seconds, just barely long enough to pull himself to his feet unsteadily, lock his knees as she threw herself at him again in a flurry of feet and fists.

“Tsunade’s tricks, as usual,” he grunted, ducking low to avoid a blow he was sure was intended to actually free his head from his shoulders this time. “I suppose you’re a creature of habit.”

The sound that spilled from Sakura’s mouth could only be described as a garbled roar of fury. She kicked up a chunk of earth and launched it in his direction, following up with a veritable storm of kunai that it took more effort to avoid than he cared to admit.

Kakashi was equal parts proud and terrified at her performance.

“What about you,” Sakura shouted, her voice raw and broken. He fought to hear her still, over his thundering pulse.

“Me?” he questioned mildly. He sent a crackle of lightning toward her that ate away at the waist of her clothes, leaving bubbling, burned skin behind.

It was healed, fresh skin covering the area within moments.

She drew closer than anyone who truly knew him dared, and he managed to snag both of her wrists and lock her against him with a kunai pressed to her sternum.

“Friend-killer Kakashi,” she breathed, her breath hot on his face. Sweat tricked in rivulets from her temples, blood crusted at the corner of her mouth. 

Deep inside of him, something ached. But he simply arched his brow, poising himself for the moment Sakura would break his hold, hoping he could avoid losing a limb or more when it happened.

Instead, she only stared. Until both of their breaths began to slow and silence settled like a weight on his back.

“You see her in me, don’t you?” Sakura asked, her voice quiet but piercing in the unnatural quiet around them. 

“Are you ready to end our training session already?” he quipped. “I have quite a large pile of paperwork waiting on my desk.”

“The little civilian girl,” she continued, voice taking on that soft, child-like quality it had that blood soaked night that changed their lives. “One you could not save from a shinobi’s fate. I’m sure it keeps you awake at night.”

“Be careful, Sakura-chan,” he replied in a low voice. “Remember that you asked me for help.”

“Of course I did,” she grinned, and it looked sickly, false. There was no light to be found in her wide, wide eyes. “Because how could you deny me? Poor little Sakura-chan. So much like the friend you lost.”

“Training is over,” he stated. He loosened his grip on her wrists and inhaled deeply before stepping back. “Next time we work on your focus and control of your emotions.”

“Was Rin a deadweight, too?” Just as he turned his back and took the first step away, that name slipping past her lips made him falter. 

“Sakura,” he whispered. “Enough.”

“I’ve thought about it many times,” she sighed, and he heard the shift of her feet over pebbles and upset soil. “Eventually I came to the conclusion that you neglected my development to somehow make up for the ways you failed to protect your teammate. If I never got into a fight, I couldn’t die in one, ne?”

Kakashi began taking tremulous steps forward, determined to leave the training grounds and this twisted turn of conversation behind. He would deal with his so-obviously cracking former student later. He had his own splintering glass to patch over, for now.

“I’m sure you thought you were protecting me,” Sakura raised her voice, her words falling upon his unwilling ears even as he sauntered away. “But did you ever think that instead of keeping me safe, you could have got me killed?”

Guilt burrowed so deep in his bones he struggled to breathe around it. He closed his eyes, unwilling to look into the memories and truth.

“You almost killed me, Kakashi-sensei,” she cried, something like mirth but far darker clouding her voice. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he breathed.

“Kakashi,” a whisper, carried through the wind. His blood froze in his veins. “You killed me.”

Every single one of his muscles locked into place, his heart stalling for a long handful of seconds before resuming at a thunderous, violent pace. His hands shook, knees becoming weak as he toiled to pry his stiffened lips open–

“Kai.”

“You killed me, Kakashi,” the voice whispered again, tremulous. “Why?”

Kakashi’s body jerked, and he clenched his fists, allowing his blunt nails to bite sharply into his palm and uttered the phrase again.

Yet the air did not change, nor his visage of the ruined training ground. His breaths became shallow and a lump lodged in his throat as quiet, tiny footsteps sounded behind him, drawing closer.

“Why did you kill me, Kashi?” she asked. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Stop.”

He flared his chakra, snatched it inward. Fire danced over his knuckles, scalding him and yet–

Wake UP!

“Kashi,” she whispered, voice thick with pain and sadness. “How could you do this?”

As in all of his nightmares, he was helpless and unable to prevent his stiff neck from turning, to avoid the sight of a small girl soaked to the bone in blood, a gaping darkness where her chest should be.

“I’m sorry, Kashi,” Rin whispered. Black marks like diseased veins snaked from the edges of the maw of her wound, up her throat, webbing across her cheeks.

“No,” he rasped.

The scent of blood, pungence of burnt flesh filled his nose and mouth with every gasping breath. He stumbled backwards, clutching at the area above his own wildly beating heart.

The fabric of his shirt stuck to his fingers, and he snatched the hand away, staring blankly at the streaks of red spread thickly from fingertip to forearm, bits of sharded bone and fibrous clumps of flesh clinging to the fine hairs.

He gagged, nearly losing his footing again.

“Why would you do that, Kakashi-sensei?” The sound of Sakura’s voice caused his head to whip upward, but he was once again met with Rin’s small, ruined face.

“Stop this,” he begged. 

“Kaka-sensei,” Sakura whispered.

Suddenly it was her, wide green eyes glossed with tears, pink hair stained with blood and small, pale hands prodding tenderly around the bleeding hole in her chest.

“Why, Kakashi?” she sniffled.

“Why?” Rin echoed, her face flickering over Sakura’s. “Why?”

“Why,” they both whispered, such different voices somehow entangling and becoming one, “did you kill me?”

Kakashi crumbled to his knees, clutching at his ears and shaking his head, unable to free himself from the lilting cacophony of the two voices, questioning and taunting him. They refused to be quieted or drowned out, even when he began to scream. It was as if they had multiplied into a chorus, hundreds of his failures joining to ask him why, why, why-

WHY?

WHY?

“Kakashi-sensei.”

He came to awareness with a violent gasp, back arching upward and sending a bruising ache rattling down his spine.

Sakura gazed down at him, the sunlight forming a halo around her head, lightening her pink strands until her hair resembled more a rose-gold. Sharp rock pressed into the backs of his legs and neck, and an incessant pressure against his chest urged him to look downward.

“Get off,” he croaked.

She moved her foot away from his chest without a word, taking a step away from the crater within which his body was stuffed. He pulled himself up to stand on shaking legs and swallowed his panting breaths.

“A new trick,” she eventually murmured, after minutes of standing by as he struggled to grasp reality. “You told me once that I had an affinity for genjutsu. So.”

Kakashi barked a laugh that burned in his throat. 

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “That you do.”

Finally, he met her eyes. Her expression was blank, her eyes downcast. Not even a tell-tale twitch of her brow or crinkle of her nose cued him into what she could possibly be thinking. 

“Well,” he exhaled, straightening and shoving a hand into the pocket of his pants. His fingers stroked against the edge of his kunai. “You’ve proven your point. See you tomorrow, same time. Have a good day, Sakura-chan.”

As he walked away, in the direction of the Hokage tower, he could feel her stare on his back. The feeling persisted for hours after.

  Give up the ghosts

Sakura peered down at the sleeping Mitokado Homura, still and silent as the dead. It was easy to do so, considering she felt as if her own heartbeat was but a mere illusion. Her focus remained on the rise and fall of a frail chest, the webs of blue-green veins barely visible under paper-thin skin illuminated by moonlight.

A shinobi who had served under the second Hokage, one who had lived at least three shinobi lifetimes, laid so peacefully— face marred with wrinkles of age rather than the horrors of death and murder and generational strife. Sakura did not think it possible for any shinobi to indulge in such a peaceful slumber.

A pale hand, littered with tiny scars and roughened with callouses reached out, fingers fluttering over the pulse thrumming gently in his neck. To his credit, his cloudy eyes snapped open immediately upon the faint contact, but it was already too late.

Fingers crushed around his windpipe, effectively bludgeoning his vocal chords and choking off the exclamation she knew would fall from his lips.

“Shhh, Mitokado-san,” she whispered, hands glowing faintly as she smoothed over the damage she had done to his trachea and esophagus. 

A terrible, wheezing croak slipped from his lips as Sakura moved her hand back, leaving behind a dark, gritty stain.

Then a kunai swung toward her face, but—the poor wretch—it was far too slow. She snapped the wrist holding the blade like a rice cracker and went about hauling the man from his bed and tossing him none-too-gently into the plush armchair at the center of his room.

Planting her hands on thin thighs, she knelt in front of him, fingers dipping deep into the muscles, the tips of them coating with warm, sticky blood.

Homura’s breaths were coming out in frantic pants, his eyes shooting around the room as he squealed and whined helplessly, words shaping intelligibly on his thin, wrinkled lips. For a long moment, Sakura only stared, feeling oddly light and ungrounded as she watched the practically ancient man struggle desperately, numb to the weak blows rained upon her shoulders and head.

“You don’t look like a man who could eliminate an entire community of people,” she whispered eventually. The man froze at the sound of her voice, gaze widening in horror as she withdrew her nails from the flesh of his legs and reached for his face with blood-caked hands.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to your friend, Utatane-san,” Sakura continued, smearing blood in lazy patterns over his quivering face. “I made it quick, too quick for her. Because I was mad. Shishou would be ashamed that I let my anger control my actions that way.”

“Y-you,” the murderer rasped, voice sounding ripped and warbling. He began choking, unable to say more as red bubbled from his lips.

“I want to talk to you,” Sakura nodded slowly, voice soft. “I want to talk about why you soaked your hands in the blood of innocents, why you ruined Sasuke-kun’s life.”

“Uchiha...not...innocent,” he wheezed and Sakura tilted her head.

“Are you? Innocent?” she inquired. There was no answer as the pressure of her hands increased and with a sickening crack, Mitokado Homura’s jaw crumbled against her palms. 

The sound of his attempted cry of pain was barely audible above the roaring in her ears. One hand fell from his face and the familiar glow of her chakra illuminated his slackened, terrified face for a moment before it condensed into a scalpel that she cut into his side.

“I did this before,” she murmured, pushing her hand into the neat incision, reaching between ribs to wrap her fingers gently around the hot, pulsing organ in his chest, “in the war, to save Naruto’s life. I’m sure you hate the fact that I did that. Like how you hate that we brought Sasuke back, that you weren’t able to execute him. Pity.”

Her grip tightened around the frantically thumping heart in her hand; instead of steady compressions to a still, quiet organ, she mapped the arteries and cavities with her fingers and chakra and after a breath sent a thrum into a particular spot. The chunk of flesh in her grip seized, hardening, misshaping itself before twitching erratically. As the organ struggled to find its rhythm, Sakura noted the convulsing of its cage, glancing up to see the way the old man’s eyes rolled white into the back of his head.

She withdrew her chakra for a split second before it flowed out again from her fingertips, gently guiding the flow of blood to the lungs and brain, calming the erratic twitching of the fickle organ once more.

“Sasuke-kun told me he’s haunted by the ghosts,” she informed, watching as tears flowed thick down her enemy’s face, pooling in the divots and valleys of his worn flesh. “Are you? Do they visit you in your dreams, too?”

She disturbed the flow of her chakra again, clutching the malfunctioning organ as Homura once again thrashed, legs kicking uselessly at her belly, spittle foaming white at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you want to see them, Homura?” Sakura pushed her face close to his as she once again stabilized his heart. “Don’t you want to talk to them about your innocence?”

An otherworldly feeling rose up like a wave in her chest as the frantic, glazed eyes above her suddenly sharpened and began darting about the darkened corners of the room. Faces that were mostly unfamiliar to her, but so very recognizable to him bled out from the shadows, drawing closer, closer still. 

The furnishings of the lavish room fell away, filled to the brim with pale faces framed with pitch-dark hair, glinting crimson eyes floating toward them.

“P-plea-,” Homura choked, a weak hand rising to clutch at his face, bony finger tips catching in the fragile lids framing his wide eyes. “St-st…”

His gaze grew more horrified by the moment as the room filled with the faces of young men, old women, small children, infants cradled in the arms of black-haired ladies with bleeding irises. 

“Look at them,” she breathed, fingers undulating about the slick surface of the heart thundering in her grasp. “Look.”

What would have been a high pitched scream ripped from his throat in the form of a wheezing squeak as the blood-red eyes of his demons fell from their heads, leaving behind gaping darkness in their skulls as they continued to move forward, ever advancing.

“Shh, Homura,” Sakura cooed, reaching up to force his gaze back down to hers. “They can’t hurt you. They’re just ghosts. I am your reckoning.”

Cracked lips gaped in a silent shriek as her once green irises bled red. 

“M-m-monster,” he gurgled.

“I know you are,” Sakura replied, sinking back onto the heels of her feet and holding his gaze, “but what am I?” 

Then she was ripping her hand from the cavity of his chest, blood, bone shard and viscera splashing hot over her cheeks as cloudy brown eyes widened before the light in them faded and his entire body went slack, sinking lifeless into the back of the armchair. 

The taste of iron bit at the tip of her tongue as her lips spread into a crooked smile.

  Forgive me not

Sasuke pretended that his gaze was focused on the tepid cup of tea cradled in his palm when the door creaked open and closed. As if moments before he had not been watching, waiting for it to swing open, for the sound of shuffling footsteps and rustling fabric to reach his ears in the ambience of the night-time hours.

“Okaeri,” he greeted quietly, voice raspier still than he would have liked. More internal wounds to heal from, he supposed.

“Tadaima.”

It was more of a sigh than a response. And so he allowed himself to look toward the doorway, to watch as Sakura trudged further into her tiny living room. She flicked on a lamp, casting the space in a weak, yellow glow. 

“We don’t all have night vision like a cat, Sasuke-kun,” she muttered. Nearly each word was chased by an exhalation, a release of breath that made him wonder if words weighed like burdens on her tongue, too. 

“You look tired,” he stated. His eyes tingled and the room became clearer, if less colorful as he engaged his dojutsu. “Chakra reserves are low.”

“Yeah, well,” she replied stiffly, footsteps pausing for a beat before she shuffled forward slowly. “I have a job. No special house-arrest vacation for me.” 

“Hn.”

Sasuke let the snide comment wash over him, inhaling deeply through his nose and out of his mouth. Had Naruto said it, they might have come to blows. But this was Sakura–she had more than earned the right to tug on his nerves now and again.

“There’s dinner in the refrigerator,” he said softly as she finally swept past him, the scent of antiseptic thick, hints of jasmine seeping through.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied without turning. 

“You must be.”

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug and she did not respond, swaying her way around various obstacles on the path to her bedroom. A low table, a small stack of heavy tomes. The tall, flowering plant that Sasuke watered and clipped every other day to give himself something to do other than sitting and stewing in his own thoughts. It had a strong fragrance, almost cloying, and it made his nose burn and head ache if he spent too much time in proximity to it. But Sakura would smile a little when the flowers looked vibrant. 

When he stepped behind her, she froze, formerly slumped posture overcorrecting as her spine became rigid and her neck stiff.

“I’m not hungry,” she sighed. Sasuke only stared as she rotated slowly, bracing one of her hands on the doorframe leading into her room.

“You’ll sleep better on a full stomach,” he stated. 

“I’m too tired to eat,” she countered. Indeed, her lips parted and jaw elongated on a wide yawn.

“It’s not poisoned.”

Sakura rolled her bloodshot eyes, “I know you wouldn’t poison me, Sasuke-kun.”

“I waited to eat with you.” 

When her eyes finally met his head on, he knew he had won.

“Come on,” she grumbled. 

Her shoulder brushed his chest, just barely, as she stepped around him. Sasuke traced the slope of her shoulders with his gaze, tracking the rhythm of her slow gait as she shuffled to the kitchen. 

Sakura wrenched the fridge open and collected the collection of tupperware, scraping their contents into plates and bowls and shoving them into the microwave in silence. Sasuke stood quietly on the other side of the counter and watched.

“Are you,” she bit her lip, sliding his food toward him, “waiting for me to attack you, or something?”

“What?” he blinked, absently reaching for the chopsticks she had slid across the counter as well.

“You’ve been staring at me with the sharingan since I walked in,” she waved one hand in his general direction. Her chin stayed low, eyes fixed on the food in front of her.

“It scares you?” he asked, blinking again and letting his dojutsu disengage. “Sorry.”

“That’s not what I said,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food, chewing somewhat aggressively. “Just…I don’t understand why you’d use it when you’re at– here, with me.”

Sasuke took his own bite, studying her face as he considered.

“Sometimes I want to see more than I can with regular eyes,” he finally said.

“Hm. Okay,” she muttered. She continued to shovel food into her mouth.

“Are you sure it doesn’t scare you?” Sasuke asked, suddenly unable to take another bite. He set his chopsticks down and opted to swirl his spoon around the steaming bowl to his right.

“Should it?” she asked quietly. Her eyes flitted up to his briefly before focusing lower, perhaps on his chin.

“No.” 

She stared downward, motionless. His fingers tightened around the spoon.

“Then, no. It doesn’t.”

Sasuke stirred his broth some more. Sakura resumed eating and silence blanketed the kitchen again.

“You don’t look me in the eyes when it’s engaged.”

“That’s shinobi 101,” she said briskly, sipping a spoonful of her own broth. “Never look directly in the eyes of someone who has the sharingan. I would do the same with anyone.”

“I’m the only one left,” he whispered.

She stilled, before lowering her spoon with a quiet clack to the counter. Her mouth opened as if she were going to speak, then closed again. 

“You never looked away from it before,” he stated. His fingers tightened around the spoon once more, the metal warming in his grip. 

Sakura glanced up to his eyes again, her full lips turning down a fraction. Then she shook her head, and let loose a quiet laugh.

“The last time I looked into your sharingan,” she said, lips twisted in a rueful smile, “you wrapped me up in a pretty nasty genjutsu, Sasuke-kun.”

An ache settled in his chest and shame washed over his head like an angry tide. He dropped the spoon and dropped her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I forgave you long ago, Sasuke-kun.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “But your instinct tells you that I’m a threat. I have made you uncomfortable in your own home.”

“Sasuke-kun. That’s not true.”

“You hardly eat,” he replied, voice low. “I hear you awake in your room at night. You spend more hours at the hospital than you are scheduled for to stay away as long as possible.”

“Sasuke-kun…”

He lifted his head, watched as she flinched at the sight of his red iris. A sick feeling swirled in his gut as he let the crimson bleed away.

“It was better for you when I was tied up and blindfolded in the prison. You probably felt safer.”

“Sasuke-kun, please,” she choked. Her palm smacked into the surface of the counter. “Don’t say things like that. Don’t be cruel.”

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “It makes sense that things would be easier when you actually felt safe with me.”

“I’m going to bed,” she said thickly, whirling away from the counter and taking heavy steps toward the exit of the kitchen.

“You never ran from me before, either,” he murmured. Sakura froze midstep.

“I can’t do this tonight, Sasuke-kun,” she breathed, voice barely audible with how she faced away from him. The desperation rang clear yet. 

“I won’t stay here if you’re afraid of me,” Sasuke replied tightly. “I want you to feel safe.”

Sakura remained silent. He stood, the sound of his chair scraping the ground causing her to flinch. 

He decided against approaching.

“Sakura,” he whispered. 

“I can forgive you for anything, Sasuke-kun,” she said quietly, her voice tremulous and so very tired. “Anything. But I can’t forget so easily. I can’t help that my mind clings to certain images and that my body reacts. Call it fear if you want.”

Her head turned slightly, pink tresses shielding the majority of her face.

“Maybe it scares me to sleep under the same roof as the boy who put his hand through my chest in a dream,” she rasped. “But it scares me more to sleep under this roof alone, without knowing you’re somewhere close by. So let me have my fear–let me have you in the only way I can, until I get over one or the other.”

Shame, his oldest friend, clung heavy on his shoulders. It pressed upon his back and caused an ache in his chest, dragging especially on his left-hand side.

“If there was something I could do to take it back,” he rasped, “I would. Doing that to you is the worst crime I have committed.”

“Maybe not the worst,” she muttered. A heavy sigh brought her shoulders up, then down into a slump. “What’s happened, happened. I forgive you, Sasuke. You have to let it go as much as I do.”

Sasuke took a step forward despite himself, despite the way she stiffened. 

“Sakura,” he whispered, drawing closer and daring to touch her arm with the tips of his fingers.

“Sasuke-kun, you can’t take it back,” she whirled and looked at him, chin tilted to stare straight into his eyes. “We both have to live with it. We can't unsee it or undo it; we just have to live with it.”

His lips turned down into a frown, an ache settling between his ribs. 

“I’ll stay with Naruto,” he murmured. “I will leave– tonight.”

Yet his feet remained rooted to the spot, his body looming mere inches from hers. Staring, breathing.

“You won’t,” she whispered. “Not unless I tell you to go.”

“Tell me then,” he replied thickly. “Tell me to go.”

“No,” she breathed. She began shaking her head slowly, blinking as if meeting his eyes was the same as staring straight into the midday sun.

“Don’t let me hurt you more than I already have,” he begged. His hand lifted, drew close, cupped her face just as it turned away.

She slipped free from his gaze and grasp.

“Good night, Sasuke-kun.”

[superhaught]

Savoring It

(Or, my redemption arc Dark Urge Tav (named Atlas) really can't help but enjoy killing Viconia DeVir)

CW for canon-compliant violence: knives, killing, death blood

The Drow woman laid on the floor of the Cloister of Somber Embrace, in pain and resentful.

Atlas was seething. Every word that fell from Viconia's mouth made his blood boil. But at the front of his mind, more prominent than his rage, was Shadowheart.

"What do you want to do, Shadowheart?"

"I want to see my parents." She redirected her gaze from Viconia to Atlas, "And I don't care what happens to this one. She's been in my head long enough already."

Then the words he was waiting for, "Do what you like. I know you'll choose well." And with that, Shadowheart began to walk away.

Viconia cried out, "What are you doing? Come back, and finish this yourself! You owe me that!"

Acid dripped from Shadowheart's tongue, "Let go, mother. Embrace loss."

Shadowheart left Atlas and Viconia's crumpled form behind. Karlach trailed after the exhausted cleric while Lae'zel remained flanking Atlas' shoulder. Perfect, he thought.

"I draw near, my Lady-" Viconia began.

"Shhh." He interrupted her. "You've done enough speaking."

Atlas kneeled down so that his face was level with Viconia's, he glanced down at the dark stain of blood forming beneath her hand, clutching her side, "I’m not supposed to enjoy killing anymore, Viconia." As he spoke, he slid his favored dagger out from it's sheath on his lower back, "I'm... trying to be better." The handle of it fit oh so nicely in his fingers. He twirled it around, reveling for just a moment in the unmistakably rusty scent imbued on the pristine blade, "But I think I will savor this one last time."

Atlas plunged the blade into her abdomen. Exactly beneath her sternum. He'd have time for her to hear his words, but she would be gone soon enough.

With the blade buried to the hilt, he leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "I wish I could keep you alive and torture you every day for forty years like you did to her. I wish I could forever keep you an inch away from Shar’s embrace. But die knowing this, I will love her so much that she will forget everything you did to her, no magic required.”

Atlas twisted the blade on his last phrase. He watched as Viconia's eyes rolled back, the life leaving them.

When he removed the blade, Viconia gasped then collapsed, dead.

Atlas wiped his dagger off with the fabric of his cloak and returned it to it's sheath. A shiver traveled up his spine and he sighed. He turned to see Lae'zel nodding approvingly, and let his gaze travel farther to where Shadowheart was standing, back turned to them, staring at a statue of Shar holding an offering bowl.

[babyzombiehottub]

The Vampire Virus. (A fanfic of my good friend who's story is linked here: https://www.wattpad.com/1278626165-we-are-the-monster-generation-a-life-changing-day)

Dwayne, the young vampire with white skin and white hair, winced as another wave of pain coursed through his body. His red eyes watered uncontrollably and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was bad enough that he was a dude-bro vampire from Spain, but now this?! He couldn't believe the intense pain radiating from his lower abdomen. It felt like someone was stabbing him repeatedly with a million sharp needles. The worst part? He couldn't stop himself. He had no control over his own bowels. It was as if they were on a rollercoaster ride of their own, careening out of control.

He gripped the sides of the toilet, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep from passing out. His thighs, normally so strong and toned, now quivered helplessly. Even though he hated to admit it, there was something undeniably sexy about the way they looked now. The way the muscles tensed and relaxed as he struggled against the diarrhea, the way the veins stood out prominently against the smooth, pale skin. And his ass! It was the most magnificent thing ever seen. Round, firm, and begging to be grabbed. He couldn't help but fantasize about someone else's hands on it, massaging it, making him feel better.

"Dwayne?" came a worried voice from the doorway. It was his zombie friend, Neil. "Dude, you've been in there for, like, hours. You okay?" Dwayne didn't respond, too focused on his battle against the diarrhea. Neil walked into the bathroom and cringed when he saw the state his friend was in. "Dude… you know you can't flush that shit, right?" he asked, gesturing at the overflowing toilet. Dwayne managed a weak laugh, more of a groan really. "I know, man… just… help me get up, would ya?" Neil obliged, steadying Dwayne as he stood unsteadily.

Together, they made their way to Dwayne's bedroom, where he collapsed on the bed, his body still wracked with pain. "Dude, you should see a doctor," Neil insisted. "This is serious." Dwayne shook his head, his long white hair swaying. "I'll be fine, man… it's just… one of those things. Vampires get these funny stomach bugs sometimes." He closed his eyes, trying to will the pain away. "Just… give me some privacy, okay?" Neil nodded reluctantly and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The next wave hit Dwayne like a sledgehammer, and he barely made it back to the toilet in time. The shit that came out was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was thick and tar-like, almost black in color. It coated his fingers as he clutched the toilet seat, and it seemed to burn as it slid down his throbbing ass. He let out a long, low moan of agony, his body shaking with each spasm. The texture was so gross that he couldn't even imagine how it must feel inside of him. He tried to wipe himself clean, but the toilet paper disintegrated almost immediately.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Neil standing there, looking concerned. "Dude, you sure you don't want me to get you some more toilet paper or something?" he asked, gesturing at the empty roll on the floor. Dwayne shook his head, his long hair flying. "No, man… just… rub my stomach or something, okay?" Neil nodded, and knelt down beside the toilet. He gently placed his hands on Dwayne's stomach, rubbing circles as the vampire grimaced in pain. "There you go, buddy… just let it out," he murmured reassuringly.

The pain seemed to subside slightly with Neil's touch, and Dwayne let out a shaky breath. He leaned back against the cool tile wall, feeling exhausted beyond belief. "Thanks, man… I owe you one." Neil shrugged, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. "Hey, we've all been there, you know? Besides, you're my bro, right? We got each other's backs." There was a brief pause as Dwayne considered this, and then a small smile crept onto his face.

As the intensity of the diarrhea began to wane, they both knew it was time to face the mess they'd created. Slowly, Neil leaned forward, his hands moving from Dwayne's stomach to his thighs, gently pushing the vampire's legs apart. The smell in the room was overpowering, a putrid stench that seemed to cling to everything. But Neil didn't flinch. He moved closer, his face inches from Dwayne's ass, and began to wipe away the tarry remnants of the diarrhea.

It was a delicate task, to say the least. The skin around Dwayne's anus was raw and tender, the skin inflamed from the repeated abuse. Each wipe brought forth another gobbet of the thick, black muck, and each time, Neil winced in sympathy as he disposed of it. He worked methodically, taking care not to irritate the area further, his breathing growing shallow as he focused on the task at hand.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they were able to clean up the mess. Dwayne sat on the edge of the tub, his head hanging low, his body shivering from exhaustion. He was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. "Thanks, man," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Neil shrugged modestly. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right? Besides, I've seen worse, believe me." He glanced around the bathroom, grimacing at the lingering smell.

Dwayne nodded, standing up slowly. "You're right. It's just… this whole thing is just so humiliating. I feel like such a freak." Neil put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, we all have our weaknesses, you know? And hey, at least it's not permanent. You'll get through this, and you'll be back to your old self in no time." He gave Dwayne's shoulder a squeeze before stepping back. "Why don't you hop in the shower and get cleaned up? I'll bring you some clean clothes."

As Dwayne turned to head toward the shower, Neil began to gather up the dirty clothes and towels, stuffing them into a plastic bag. The bathroom smelled faintly of bleach now, as if Neil had already begun the process of cleaning it up. He glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost two in the morning. They'd been here for hours, dealing with Dwayne's latest bout of the vampire virus. He couldn't help but wonder how many more of these there would be.

The shower came to life with the sound of running water, and a few moments later, Dwayne emerged, wrapped in a towel. His skin had regained some of its color, and he looked more like himself again. "Thanks, man," he said, taking the clean clothes and towel that Neil handed him. "I owe you big time."

Neil waved off the thanks. "Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?" He glanced at the clock as well, noting the late hour. "Better get you to bed, huh? We've got school tomorrow, and you don't want to be a zombie like me do ya?" Neil joked "Goodnight man" Dwayne said as he went to bed

[pianolo]

AN EXCERPT! I am writing a story that spans over many centuries! If you have any questions please feel free to ask!

Hatta looked over at poor, shivering Cosmo. Sakir had pulled Cosmo’s shirt up over his head. 

Hatta had never seen him so scared. But, then again, she would be too in his situation. 

Cosmo must have known he was about to be tortured. Tortured terribly.

“Now, Hatta,” Sakir pulled Cosmo’s hands above his head, connected them to a winch on the ceiling, and suspended Cosmo until he stood on his tip-toes. “This Engineer is going to die unless you do everything I say. You will prove that the Szeszchek mean nothing to you. You will use your powers to fix every injury I lay upon young Cosmolov Sekotchya here.”

Cosmo cringed at his formal name.

“Ready?” Sakir picked up a wooden club, complete with nails hammered through it. Sakir swung it in a full arc, crashing it against Cosmo’s lower ribs with a terrible crunching sound. Cosmo didn’t scream. But Hatta soon realized it was because he couldn’t. The hit must have directly affected his diaphragm.

He made a sad gasping sound, like he was surprised over and over again. three small holes where the nails had punctured his chest were leaking and oozing blood down Cosmo’s bare abdomen. He looked at the ceiling, not at Hatta. She understood he planned to die. He would sooner die than give the Fabrikash results. 

“Heal him,” Sakir demanded. “He has only been hit once. And besides, I owe him for what he did on the battlefield.”

Hatta held her hands out to Cosmo, healing his wounds in an instant and returning breath to his lungs. 

Sakir brought it down hard again, this time across the back of Cosmo’s knees, causing them to buckle, leaving him to dangle by the wrists while Hatta healed him. This time he screamed, long and hard, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

Sakir grabbed Cosmo by the face. “Let’s start with some easy questions. I know Hatta can tell lies by your heart rate from afar. But i can tell lies by touching you. By sensing your spirit’s energy.”

“Ready to answer some questions? Answer honestly.” Sakir viciously pushed Cosmo’s face away and put two fingers to Cosmo’s sternum. Hatta noticed the tears that escaped the corners of Cosmo’s eyes. “What is your age, Cosmolov?”

Cosmo swallowed hard, tilted his head back to the ceiling. Hatta focused on his Adam’s apple. She didn’t want to have to meet his mournful gray eyes. “23,” Cosmo finally answered.

“Good!” Sakir patted Cosmo’s side in a way that even Hatta thought was creepy. “Now, how did it feel…”

Sakir grinned and looked away for a moment. “Killing MY FUCKING BROTHER?!”

Sakir clutched the fingers he had placed on Cosmo’s sternum. Cosmo went limp.

“Shit, Hatta wake him up. I need to control my power more. I overloaded his senses by accident.”

Cosmo, under the guidance of Hatta’s power, woke with a start. 

“Time for brute force again, I think.”

Sakir picked the club up again.

Hatta could remember every one of Cosmo’s screams after that night.

[wiinestories]

August's gaze fell on the sight of the first aid kit she was holding, a scoff escaping his lips. "Attempting to make amends?" he quizzed, curiosity mingled with skepticism in his voice. He cocked his head to one side, remaining on guard around her until she gave him reasons not to be. "I don't owe you any sort of explanation about how I deal with the procedures of my assignments, Eris." He was hesitant to let her in, even if he'd known her for long years.

His eyes narrowed further, the skepticism deepening. "You think a bandage will fix things?" he asked, a biting edge to his words. The air between them was thick with unresolved tension, the kind that made every breath feel heavy. August knew Eris well enough to respect her skills and expertise. If she had intended to kill him, he wouldn't be standing here. He could feel the truth in her words, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. "Alright," he finally said, his voice still laced with mistrust. "But this doesn't mean I trust you." August took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and calculated, as if approaching a wild animal. His arms crossed over his chest, a defensive posture that conveyed his lingering wariness. He listened intently to her explanation about the weapons, her willingness to heal him if necessary.

The agent let out a low hum, his eyes never leaving hers. He noted the sincerity in her voice but wasn't ready to lower his guard. When she mentioned he was on her mind, his brow arched, curiosity piqued. "I take it it's remorse on yourself for that cut," he said, a hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. He thought of a decision afterwards. "Fine, but consider best for you to remember my warning," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt about his seriousness. With a final assessing glance at Eris, August moved to one of the chairs by the rounded table, taking a seat with a fluid motion. He began undoing the buttons of his shirt in a quick, practised manner, revealing his athletic build, his toned abdomen, and his hairy chest. The cut was there, fresh and raw, with small, fresh blood stains seeping into the fabric of his shirt. The wound had clearly suppurated, a testament to the tension and intensity of their previous encounter.

She knew that her action to come here was stupid, but she hadn't come here to play with fire or to even make any point.. she actually came with a genuine care for his arm and its wellbeing. She kept the first aid kit held out, she'd put everything in it together herself. She remained still, she'd never be without one of her knives in reach because she was no fool, but she didn't want to reach for it.. she really did hope that he didn't give her a reason to reach for it. "You're not going to target me, it's good to know... but I'd also love to know what it is you told them, to not be targeting me anymore." she wasn't being sarcastic, at least not now. "Did you tell them you'd handled it? Me, I mean."

Eris sighed softly. "Take it, I brought it for your arm... I couldn't leave you unscathed you know that.." and yet her voice showed just how much she hadn't really wanted to. "Take it. If I were going to harm you any more I'd have done it when your back was turned." she openly admitted that she wouldn't care if it was an unfair fight, she'd stab someone in the back just to get the job done quicker... and she wouldn't have bothered bringing this stupid first aid kit that now made her feel like the worlds biggest idiot. "Yes, I gathered as much August." she wasn't angry over that, she'd be the same way but she looked down to that kit then back to him, gesturing at it. "If you wont take it then.. then let me look it over for you." she was beyond used to how to patch herself up.. would it really be hard to touch someone else? Someone she knew? Or at least, she had known him once.

"I'll take off every single weapon if you like, one by one and there are twelve of them. I'm working tonight." she explained. "I don't intend to use a single one of them on you, not again, so can I look at your arm or not?" she was to the point, cut throat with her approach but standing there Eris really did just feel like fool and for her it was becoming humiliating. "If you don't ever want to see me again after that's fine, it doesn't bother me, but I'd get my job tonight done a whole lot better if you weren't on my mind constantly. It's suffocating."

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Day 311, progress has been made!