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a-valorant-effort · 4 years ago

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Slowly

Octane x Fem!Reader NSFT

My first Apex legends fic! Hope you like it!

There’s one thing Octavio has known all his life and that variable never seemed to change. Slow = boring, and he hated being bored. School was slow, good grades never came to him naturally because of his inability to sit still. Sleep is slow, Octavio never truly finding himself able to be lulled to sleep until he physically cannot stand anymore and opts to crash and burn. Even relationships were slow, having to get to know someone over a period of time before being able to enjoy their presence. The only reason he warmed up to Ajay was because they were practically forced to be friends.

And yet... here he was... frozen.

You were something Octavio, objectively, would HATE. You lived your life one step at a time. As a legend, you chose to have strategical and thought out approaches rather than going in guns blazing. As a person, you took the time to sit down and get to know almost all of the legends, ranging from Mirage’s flirtatious remarks to Caustics long and stale talk about respiratory diseases and their affect on the human lifespan.

What an awful way to live, Octavio thought.

That is... until he was the one you took the time to get to know. One thing Octavio noticed about you is that you could keep up. No matter the distance, you would always be by his side or at a close second. He didn’t expect this, but the dynamic of a methodical planner and a hyperactive stuntman made a pretty good team. He grew fond of the way you could understand him to a level that Octavio didn’t think anyone else could. You were his rock, the sponge to soak up all the water, the one he could share his mind with without having to worry about scaring you off or going too fast. Because, when Octavio thought about it, you made him slow down and get to know you. Weird how that works.

So here you are, laying beneath him, nothing but your bra and underwear on, staring straight at Octavio with a lustful expression. Octavio hung above you with his arms propping himself up by the sides of your head. His heart was practically about to run a lap around his body and jump out of his throat. He couldn’t stop looking at your eyes, the way they pleaded and begged for something that he knew you were too afraid to ask.

Please, go slowly.

Octavio shifted his weight to one arm, leaving the free one to trail down your body and stop over your clothed clit and start palming it gently. The sound that came from your lips was downright sinful. He could feel your legs slightly squirm underneath him as he pulled the panties down and off of you. Sitting up now, he held your hips in place, and looked up at you.

“Is this ok?”

You’re face turned redder, if that was even possible, the blush reaching the tips of your ears now. You nodded and squeezed your eyes shut, expecting Octavio to leap on you like you were a canary in a cat’s bed. Octavio, however, gently lowered his tongue between the folds and brushed slow, steady circles around your clit. Your thighs shook and found their place around Octavio‘s neck, where he gently rubbed his hands along the sides of. He felt like he was in a trance, but not in a bad way. Octavio is a fast paced human, eager to get things done as soon as he starts them, but he could be tucked in between your thighs forever and never complain once. His pace never changed, the steady circles with the up and down motion while listening to your sweet moans made it all ok.

“Ah, T-Tavi please.” He looked up at your blissed out expression and thought that he had died, face to face with an angel. Your mouth was slightly agape, pupils of your eyes blown wide, and a dusted pink spread across your cheeks. God, he was fucked wasn’t he?

Octavio did something out of character. He didn’t increase his pace, he didn’t chase your high like he oh so desperately chased his during the games. He didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want to stop hearing you mewl and cry at each differing movement. He would edge you out as long as he could.

“P-Please Tavi, I- I’m so—,” You couldn’t even finish your sentence. Octavio flicked his tongue up and you gushed around him, a moaning mess. He worked his tongue through your orgasm as you carded your fingers through his dark hair. Eventually, he stopped, and pulled himself up where his chin rested on your chest.

“How do you feel, mi alma?” You smiled at the pet name, and held Octavio’s face in between your hands, gingerly stroking his cheeks.

“Good.” Your voice was barley a whisper, and Octavio leaned up to kiss you, his clothed erection rubbing on your sensitive clit. You moaned into his kiss, and Octavio felt his world shake. He wanted so much more. His arms snaked behind you and un clipped your bra. Instinctively, your arms flung around your torso, trying to cover yourself as much as possible.

“Tan tímida, mi alma. ¿Por qué te escondes de mí? Eres hermosa.” You couldn’t understand, but you didn’t need to, Octavio pulled your arms to his neck and slid the thin straps off of your shoulders. He stared. You were as perfect as he envisioned you. He leaned in to kiss you and, in this moment, both of your hearts were thumping out of control.

You were getting restless, he could tell. You pulled at the waistband of his boxers, attempting to slide them off of him. Octavio understood, picking himself up so you could slide them off with ease. His erection sprung out, dripping little drops of precum on your stomach. He lined up, and looked you in the eye.

“You tell me it’s too much and I’ll stop, I promise. Okay? I’ll stop. I won’t get mad or upset with you, I want you to be happy. This is all for you. I would never hurt you. I know I do stupid shit a lot of the time but I would never ever—,”

You stopped his rambling by giving him a kiss, and, Octavio pushed himself up into you. You cried out in his mouth, he eased you into it by running his hands along your chest. “Ay dío...” Once Octavio was all the way in, he could feel you squeezing and pulsing around him. So needy. He wouldn’t last long, so he was going to drag this out as much as he could.

Giving you a second to adjust, Octavio slowly pumped himself in and out. Trying to keep himself steady even though his limbs felt like jelly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. A wet, hot, moaning mess, your hands came to his hair and held them tightly.

“Mi tesoro, mi vida, mi todo.” Octavio whispered into your neck, softly nibbling at the spots that made you whine. “Detendría el mundo por ti.” He thrusted again, and hit a soft spot of flesh in you. “Fuck! There?”

You nodded frantically, holding onto him like it was the last thing you would ever do. The moans and cries never ceasing. God, your whole apartment complex could probably hear you. Who cares, you look so good to him, so fragile and precious.

“Dios, fuck.” Octavio rose a hand to play with your nipples. “Do you like it?”

You nodded your head again, but Octavio wasn’t satisfied.

“Por favor amour, I... fuck, I-I need to hear you say it. Say something, ngh— anything.”

You could barley form a sentence, babbling and moaning, but you pulled yourself up to his ear and spoke.

“Please.” A whisper, but still a request.

“Por favor? What? What do you want? Anything. Anything at all.” Octavio’s words were frantic.

“Please, Tavi. Tavi please please please.” The word sounded unnatural at this point.

“Tus palabras, mi amour. Your words.”

“Faster, oh god, faster. Please. Tavi faster.” You turned away from him, embarrassed at the request.

It’s like he was just jammed with his stim. There was no high like this one, no high like you. Octavio pulled himself almost all the way out, the tip being the only thing still inside, and then mercilessly slamming back into you, quickening his pace. He could feel you move underneath him, your hips sliding back and forth as if you were moving with him.

You would always keep up, wouldn’t you?

“Ah, yes! Feels good. Mmmh, god, fuck.” Your hands cupped Octavio’s face, trying to keep yourself steady. You were hungry, chasing your high. One of your hands came to your chest to play with your own breasts. Octavio noticed, and brought one of his hands to the bud of your clit and started rubbing fast. You were almost screaming. “I can’t— I’m so— I-,”

You came, hard, squeezing the flesh of Octavio’s dick with your own. A small squirt came from you and sprayed against Octavio’s abdomen. He worked himself through your orgasm, watching every expression on your face as your body tried to understand how to feel, or what to do. In a fit of bliss, you cried out for him.

“My Tavi...”

Octavio groaned. He grabbed your hips and held them in place as he reached his high. He half hoped it didn’t hurt you, but also half hoped it would leave a mark. His cum nestling inside of you, everything Octavio could possibly think about was just you.

He pulled out, after so long of just panting and staring. Octavio collapsed on the bed beside you, and curled himself around your body.

“Are you okay?” Octavio traced the curve of your hips, trying to feel out a bruise.

You laughed. “Better than okay.” Flipping over and meeting his eyes, you cupped his face and gave him a passionate kiss. “You’re too good to me Octavio.”

Octavio laughed, your faces so close together it seemed like your breaths were one with each other. “It’s not my fault I’ve got someone so beautiful next to me.”

Gently pulling the covers over you, Octavio held you closer to him and felt your head tuck into the crook of his neck, legs twisted together, with his hands gently running up and down your back.

“Goodnight, mi alma. I love you.” Octavio hummed.

“I love you too Tavi. Goodnight.” You brought your hands up to his hair, your nails gently scratching at his scalp. “Hey, Tavi?”

“Hm?”

“What were you saying earlier? In Spanish.”

Octavio smiled. “Those words may be about you, but they’re for me right now. I will teach you someday.”

“Boo.” You wanted to protest, but were simply too tired to care anymore.

Octavio kissed your forehead. “Te enseñaré un día, cuando pueda llamarte mi esposa.” For now, though, he’ll take it slow.

#cassy gets nasty #octane #apex legends #apex legends x reader #apex legends octane #octavio silva #octavio silva x reader #octane x reader #nsft

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thran-duils · 4 years ago

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.14)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Fourteen) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,786 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: F/N = fake name. Chapter is mostly Steve and contrasting how he is with her compared to Tony when they're alone.

Part Thirteen || Part Fifteen || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You pushed yourself away from the table, grimacing at the tug in your lower back after having been shoved into the same position for that length of time. Well, that had been jolting but not entirely unexpected considering Steve’s temper. He was right about one thing: it was easier to please Tony most of the time.

Taking your time, picking up your bottoms, you walked to the bedroom and put them in your hamper. Luna was snuggled up on the end of the bed and lifted her head seeing you come in. You walked over and gave her a quick couple scratches on the head before moving to take your top off as well. You should shower considering Steve’s cum was drying on your inner thighs.

Steve was already lathered up in the shower when you walked in. He adjusted the head of the shower to hit you as he continued washing yourself down. He handed you your shampoo and turned the water back to him.

He got out first, leaving you to finish up. You heard his razor turn on, seeing him start to trim up his beard on his neck through the fogged glass. He was meticulous about it.

Turning the shower off, you reached out, grabbing your towel. You dried yourself off before stepping out and wrapping it around yourself, your eyes piercing the back of his head. You had something you wanted to ask and you did not know if right now was a good time.

“What are you hovering for?” Steve asked, his eyes not leaving the mirror.

You wrapped your towel tighter around yourself and asked timidly, “So, I was hoping I could go shopping?”

“For what?” he asked, brushing at his neck, not looking over at you.

“Christmas presents.”

“I’ll tell Terrence and Daryl when they’re back Monday. You know they don’t work weekends now. I don’t wanna send you with Eric or Wylan.”

“I could go with a friend?” you ventured. Steve stopped and looked at you for the first time during the conversation, unimpressed. You corrected, “Or I can wait.” He turned back around and finished up brushing his neck off. You wanted to get out of the apartment and even if it was with him after he had just done what he had done, you were willing to bite the bullet. Stepping closer, you saw him eye you through the mirror, and you tried again, “Or you could take me?”

Steve looked at you curiously for a few moments before putting his razor back in its holder. He nodded softly, “You could go with me. I haven’t taken you anywhere for a while, have I? I have plans for us on Monday night but tonight wouldn’t hurt too.” He turned to face you, reaching out to cup you underneath the chin. “And after that performance out in the kitchen, you do deserve a reward I would say.”

His ability to flip flop on his temperament was astounding.

“Incentivize you to keep it up and all.”

There it was.

“Wish I had brought a change of clothes, but showering works well enough, I suppose,” Steve said. “We can go after dinner. I should probably start looking for some gifts too.”

<><><>

Steve followed behind you in the stores, keeping a distance but always keeping you in sight. When you started picking things up though in one store that you thought would be good gifts, he closed the distance, coming up to take them from you and carry them. The third time he did it, you saw one of the salesclerks watching the scene and her face was scrutinizing, judgmental. She was looking between Steve dressed the way he was looking very upper class and you in your jeans with your lowcut crop top and jacket you had thrown on; you were sure the two of you looked a pair. You ducked your head, turning away from her. Steve noticed and he turned his head to level the clerk with a look.

“If you haven’t noticed, my hands are getting a little full. Do you have a bag or a basket you could offer me and my girlfriend?” he asked coolly.

Your eye widened not only at his tone but his use of the world ‘girlfriend’, not daring to look at the woman.

“O-of course, sir. Hold on,” you heard her say.

Steve leaned in and said, “She’s just jealous, dove. Ignore her. Keep going. I’ll be right behind you.” He gave you a little nudge in the leg with his, encouraging you, and you did as he asked.

The woman kept her face and tone neutral when Steve put the basket on the counter when you were ready and handed over his credit card, you standing behind him. Steve gave the woman a tight-lipped smile and a clipped goodbye before turning and grasping your hand, leading you out of the store. You tossed one more look over your shoulder at the woman and she was still staring, shaking her head when she saw you looking. You swallowed sharply and looked forward again, trying to believe what Steve had said and ignore her.

<><><>

The following night, you startled awake hearing noise in your room. You sat up quickly, seeing a figure by the door.

“Shh, it’s me,” Steve said, instantly relaxing you.

Rubbing at your eyes, you pressed at your phone and saw it was almost 2:00am. Steve was moving around the room, using only the light from the hallway coming through the crack in the door to guide him. You settled back down, wrapping yourself back up in your comforter as you gave a little shiver at the cold. Your room was set at a good temperature but the loss of the heat in your blankets was noticeable. You loved winter but sometimes the cold was unbearable here in New York.

You groaned when Steve lifted the blankets up again.

“Shh,” Steve breathed pulling the comforter up and slipping underneath the covers with you.

“Steve, it’s cold,” you complained.

He let out a low laugh as he folded himself up against you, pulling you close, and you knew immediately he was not dressed which only meant one thing. “Good thing I’m here then, hmm?”

His hand came up, unbuttoning the top buttons on your flannel top. His hand slipped in, cupping your breast, grinding his pelvis into your back side.

“It’s 2 in the morning,” you muttered, trying to burrow yourself deeper in the blankets.

“I’m just trying to help warm you up,” Steve breathed, his lips trailing along your exposed neck.

You made to complain again but his other hand snaked underneath your neck, pulling you to him and silencing you with a rough kiss, his hand moving quickly to work at the rest of your buttons. His tongue slipped into your mouth, swirling. Your shirt was open now and his hand slipped down your bare stomach to the band of your bottoms. His hand was warm as it cupped at your sex, his fingers sliding down, teasingly.

Steve had barely let you come up for air and when he did you inhaled deeply, causing him to chuckle lightly as he moved down to kiss at your neck. “Get naked for me, dove.” You did as he asked and he pulled you back to him, your back pressed to his chest. His thumb traced your pearl, and you bit your lip, trying to hold in a whine. He bit roughly at your neck and you gasped. He laid puckering kisses and said, “There we are. Don’t hold back, dove. I wanna hear it. Every single breath. Beg for me.”

One of his fingers entered, another following quickly. Curling up, he reached for your core. Your breath hitched, soft moans dropping from your lips.

“Tell me what you want,” Steve husked. You could feel his hard cock pressed into your ass as he slowly ground himself into you. His thumb left your clit and he slowed his fingers. “Come on. I know you can beg. You sound so sweet when you do.”

“More,” you rasped, your hand coming up to squeeze at your nipple.

Steve’s hand at your neck squeezed in causing you to turn your head, his nose inches from yours. He warned, “Stop that, I didn’t tell you to do that. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Your hand stilled at your breast and he slowed his fingers down even more, much to your disappointment.

“Please fuck me,” you said, staring into his eyes.

His fingers started moving again and he asked, still keeping eye contact. His eyes flashed as he asked, “How do you want it, you dirty slut?”

“Really hard. I want you to fuck me…” You hitched again as he pushed a third finger in.

Steve’s fingers were gone, and he hooked your leg up just enough to press his head at your folds and he pushed in agonizingly slow.

“What was that? You didn’t finish,” Steve purred pressing his nose to yours, holding you close, fully seated inside.

“I want you to fuck me really hard!” you begged. “Please!”

Steve gave a little laugh, pulling away, his grip loosening on your throat. He nipped at your earlobe. “Well, since you are asking so nicely.”

He pulled out and thrusted back in, jolting you but he held you tight as he used you over and over. Face pressed into your pillow, you one hand was digging into the mattress beside you and the other gripping his forearm.

“I think I like it like this the most,” Steve growled, kissing roughly at your shoulder, his teeth dragging. “Holding you like this… having you begging for me. You like it, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you sputtered. “Yes, please don’t stop.”

“You beg so beautifully… so goddamn sexy,” Steve said, giving a hard thrust. He adjusted your leg and drove deeper, brushing your core with each movement, drawing low moans from you. His lips pressed to your cheek and he told you, “You want me to touch you? Hmm?” You nodded fervently and he demanded, “I didn’t hear that.”

Nodding again, you gasped, “Yes, please. Please touch me, Steve.”

“You’re gonna have to help me out then, baby,” he grunted, his hand leaving your thigh to grasp yours and yank it to your thigh. You followed his unspoken order, holding your thigh as his hand fell down to your clit, stroking you as he resumed.

It was coming on quick with him hitting your g spot and playing with your clit. Your breath quickened, pressing your face into the pillow.

“Look at me,” Steve demanded, his hand tightening on your throat again.

Turning your head back to him, you bit your lip, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you sped towards tipping over. Your eyes unfocused as it washed over you, your body shaking with release. Steve was praising you over the roar in your ear, his fingers still stroking you rapidly, extending your orgasm. Steve’s thrusts were becoming more controlled, focusing on stimulating his head. He felt your hold going lax on your leg and he came up to hold it for you as you came down.

He was panting broken sentences into your collarbone and he gave a thrust followed by a loud groan. He pulled out slowly and back in and you felt the heat deep inside. His grip on you was still tight, you wrapped up in his embrace as he exhaled heavily into your neck. He had gotten you off this time thankfully.

Steve pulled out, adjusting up behind you. His cleared his throat, pulling the blanket back up.

“Warm enough yet?” he quipped. You laughed at that, much to his amusement. He planted another kiss on your temple. “I’m leaving you a dress and shoes for tomorrow night.”

You had forgotten he had told you he had plans for tomorrow. “Where are we going?”

“Gala fundraiser.”

“Why am I going?”

“Because I want you to,” Steve said simply.

“But…” you started to ask but trailed off. You were weary about bringing up his wife. He seemed to pick up on what you were getting at regardless.

“She’s going out of town to her friend’s,” Steve muttered, squeezing you a little tighter. “So, don’t worry about it. I don’t wanna show up alone and who better to come with me than you? It’ll be fun. Free food, free drinks.”

“Is it really free if you’re donating money to them for the fundraiser?”

Steve snorted and said, “Touche. Regardless, it’ll be fun. Trust me.”

<><><>

The evening gown was a polar opposite of what Tony had selected for you to wear in Monaco. It was elegant, long, and silver. Your fingers traced the beading along the bust; it was shiny, very much like sparkling snow. Perfect for a winter gala.

You were waiting with your hair and makeup done, not wanting to put the dress and shoes on until closer to 5:00 when Steve was supposed to come get you. It was an anxious wait, even being just an hour, you just watching the clock, pacing, trying to focus on the TV show you turned on. When it was close enough to 5:00 and you put the dress on, you realized you could not zip it up the back yourself anyway.

Swearing under your breath, you walked out of the bedroom, thinking you could go into the hall and ask Terrence for help. Just as you were going to open the door, you heard the key. You stumbled back trying to get away before Steve could swing the door open and catch you in the face.

He was dressed in a tux with a bow tie you took in as you ran your eyes up and down him. He looked damn good.

Steve gave you a confused look as he closed the door behind him. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you responded quickly. “I just need help.”

“With what?”

“This,” you told him. “I couldn’t get it myself.” You turned around and he placed the bag he was carrying down before coming up to you. He zipped it up and clasped the top gently, being careful to not tear the lace bodice.

You started to turn around and he ordered, “Stay there.” You did as he asked, adjusting the dress at your waist. He was rummaging through the bag and you heard him open something. His hands came around your neck and you looked down seeing a necklace.

“Your name is F/N for the night,�� Steve said, clasping the necklace. His hands lingered on your shoulders, running down your arms to clasp. He turned you around and prodded, “Got it?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

“Don’t need to be putting your real name out there,” Steve went on. His eyes moved down to the necklace and he adjusted it on your collar. His lip upturned, “I was right. The aquamarine looks great with the dress. Very wintery.” He noticed you had put earrings in, and he touched at them. “You’re gonna have to take those out. I got you some to match the necklace.” He turned around and grabbed a small box, handing it to you.

“Right. Thank you,” you said, taking it from him. You moved down the hallway towards the bathroom to put your other ones away and replace them. You traced your finger over the studs, wondering how much he had spent on this outfit.

Steve gave you a pleased smile when you came back down the hall. “You look perfect, dove.” He held out his hand and said, “Let’s go.”

<><><>

“And who is this?”

“A friend. F/N.” Steve said, and you wondered how he could say something that was so plainly a lie. And to your immense shock the people at the table seemed to just accept it. You knew it was common for rich men to bring escorts like you on dates but when these people seemed to know Steve’s wife, that seemed… off. Then again, Steve was a different breed with his level of influence and calling him out on it was probably not smart. “Cecile is out of town and I didn’t want to show up alone. Not a great look.”

“No, no it’s not,” one of the other men at the table joked, smiling, and you saw him clasp the girl’s hand next to him. You had been wrongly assuming that the woman to his right was his date. The girl flashed you a small smile across the table in solidarity; you guys could pick each other out of a crowd.

“It’s an 8-course meal, so pace yourself,” Steve told you out of the corner of his mouth.

You sat there trying to figure out what all the courses would be; you had only had a 6-course meal. Hors d’oeuvres – which you had already had before sitting down –, soup, appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert. Were there going to be two appetizers? Two desserts? You would just have to pace yourself like he said, it was rude to not at least try the plate and you did not want to draw any unwanted attention to yourself or Steve, for that matter.

Sorbet came after the main course and you thought it was the dessert to only come to find out that no, it was not.

“Why are they serving two desserts? Also, what is the eighth?” you could not help but to murmur to Steve, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Steve looked tickled and whispered back, “That wasn’t dessert, dove. That was a palate cleanser. This is dessert. And then we will have a mignardise. And then we will be done, free to wander.”

“Good, because my butt hurts from sitting in this chair,” you said back, causing Steve’s lips to twitch in amusement as he held back a laugh.

Your ass was not hurting now but walking around in the heels you were wearing was not doing your feet any favors now. You hoped Steve was almost done making rounds to speak to people. Your attention was drawn suddenly to a familiar face in the crowd. You narrowed your eyes, finding Laurie staring directly back at you. He had been watching, that was clear. He raised his glass to you and your lips parted in surprise that he recognized you in return. You yourself had a knack for remembering faces and it seemed he did as well. He smirked at your expression before bringing the glass to his lips and taking a drink. He got blocked by the crowd again and you forced yourself to look forward again.

You went to squeeze Steve’s arm to tell him but hesitated. It was not that odd that another rich guy would be at an event like this, especially one that Tony had told you was in the same criminal enterprise business as them. It might not be even worth the time to tell him.

Steve looped arms with you again, pulling you away from this group and moved on through the crowd. You shot a look over your shoulder and were unable to see Laurie anymore.

“What are you looking for?” Steve questioned.

Meeting his eyes, you shrugged, “Nothing. I just… thought I saw someone. Are we leaving yet?”

Steve snorted, “Bored?”

“My feet hurt.”

“My, my, you are just falling apart tonight, aren’t you?” Steve teased quietly. He brought your hand up to his mouth, giving it a kiss. “Fine. We will head home in a few.”

<><><>

Steve got into the elevator to go up to Y/N’s floor. He clutched the bag he was carrying and tapped his foot, waiting to get off. When the doors opened, Eric was waiting in the hallway and he said, “Hey, boss.” Steve stopped and came over to him. “She’s got a friend over. Y/N.”

“Who?” Steve asked immediately.

Eric shrugged and said, “I think it’s one of the brothel girls. I recognized her but don’t quote me on it. Tony spoke to her when we went there I think? She was holding the cat?”

Steve could recall the girl vaguely. “Right. Well, as long as it’s girls coming over, that’s fine.”

“That’s what I figured.”

<><><>

Elisha and you straightened up hearing the keys in the door. “Is he gonna be mad it’s 5:00 and we are already drunk?” You snorted and shrugged, taking another quick drink.

Steve walked in and closed the door behind him. The pair of you turned around to look at him, smiling in greeting.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked, walking over.

“Family Guy drinking game,” you answered.

“It’s always a mistake. Even when we roll these dumb dice to get a season and episode randomly, we still manage to get some shots,” Elisha told him friendly.

Steve eyed the bottle of rum on the table and nodded in acknowledgment, “Sounds dangerous.” He held up the bag to you and said, “I brought you some things to wrap for Luna. I know people like getting their pets Christmas presents. Which is weird to me but nevertheless… here I am.”

Well, that was thoughtful of him. It was something you thought Tony would do before he would.

You took the bag from him and said, “So, you like the cat.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Steve replied. A few seconds of silence suspended between the three of you and he cleared his throat. “Well, I can see you’re busy. I’ll come back later.” He came over to the couch and kissed you. “Be good. Don’t get too drunk.”

“I won’t,” you promised.

“Goodbye, Elisha,” he said, and she looked surprised he remembered her name but she told him goodbye in return.

As soon as the door closed and locked behind him, Elisha looked over at you and made a face. “Is he mad? Are you going to get in trouble?” she whispered.

You shrugged. “I don’t think so. They said I could have people over and it’s not like they don’t know who you are.”

“He’s so intense.”

“He’s probably just horny. Like he said, he can come back later. Here, let’s rewind this a few minutes.”

Elisha groaned, “Do we really have to? I mean, missing a few minutes is probably saving us a lot of drinks.” You laughed in response and picked up the remote, rewinding it anyway. Elisha mumbled, “You just really wanna get me hammered.”

You noticed your phone lighting up by your thigh and you looked down, seeing Steve was texting.

Have her out of there by 9.

Sighing, you responded back telling him okay before putting your phone back down.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark tony stark #mob tony stark #mob steve rogers #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #my shit

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shatouto · 4 years ago

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more raised-sith anakin whump and jedi obi-wan comfort, co-written with @obiwanobi ! (also available on ao3) pls check out the rest of the series if you haven’t (it won’t make a lot of sense otherwise)

content note: non-graphic depiction of violence; mention of past sidious-style abuse; just please proceed with care

a little more

Anakin shivers alone in the nightly winds.

He counted exactly five sunsets and sunrises since the meditation incident. Obi-Wan never brought it up again, and acted like nothing happened. He still smiled and joked with such kind eyes; still asked Anakin about his progress on the newest cleaning droid in their quarters and offered to read to him before bed. Even Ahsoka never brought it up, even though Anakin was sure the Jedi would tell his apprentice about his major offense.

He couldn’t eat. He could hardly sleep. His stomach churned every time Obi-Wan said a gentle thing to him, in that usual melodic lilt of his. His breath halted every time Obi-Wan passed him by and pat his shoulder or brushed his hand. His Master had made him wait before, but never for this long without reminding him of his misdeed. But waiting time was meant to make the punishment more excruciating, so perhaps this is the point all along - that he suffers before he gets what he deserves. Or maybe the smiles are only a beautiful facade before the Jedi discards him for good. Because, let’s be frank: what worth does he have here?

The sky is a lightless inky ocean with not even a speck of starlight to speak of. Anakin turns his gaze one more time towards the lights of the Jedi dormitories. This is what he has to do, to be able to stay, he reasons. This is the only way.

He makes his way down.

The Lower Levels of Coruscant are singularly illuminated by artificial light, if they are illuminated at all. Here where celestial lights never reach, every grease-streaked face is tinted in the neon magenta and cyan of gaudy store signs, or the sickly green of long battery life storm lanterns. The alleys are perpetually murky, a certain stickiness that holds the sole of your shoes whenever you peel your feet from the ground. A cacophony of howling fight dogs echoes from afar, and the light above him flickers. Anakin doesn’t even need to glance around.

Here, there is no shortage of fists itching to throw a punch.

It takes little more than a shove and a cuss, to get himself thrown to the ground. Anakin springs back up onto his feet with ease; by then, several people, of various species and stature, have gathered around him. Some of them reeks of booze, others of blood. From there on, it’s easy.

His knuckles collide with a jaw. Bone cracks under his metallic fist. Force-blinds are no match for him; he has taken down dozens on his own when he was but a whelp under Master Sidious’s tutelage, thirteen years of age or so. That’s not to say they don’t land a good blow here and there, but a few bruises on the face are hardly more than a tickle compared to the burn scars that litter his body. When a sudden blast rings in the relative silence and misses him by a hair, Anakin grins. He whips around and uses the Force to simultaneously yank the blaster from the shooter’s hand and fling the marksman across the street. He opens fire.

Some of them fall, some of them run. Some of them remain, and then run when they see him toss the blaster away in favor of meeting them hand to hand. The more they come at him, shoot at him, the more his blood infuses with thrill. He feels renewed in misery, in the knowledge that this show of abandon will surely earn him the punishment he deserves, where all else failed. His metal fingers are capable of cutting skin, breaking bones, if he so wants, and he does. There’s blood on his hands, warm, soaking the sleeves of his too-soft robes. There has always been blood on his hand; a little more doesn’t make any difference.

When he’s done, Anakin thinks, he’ll be back in the Jedi’s quarters and kneel at the door to his bedroom. He’ll wait there, ready, so that when the sun rises, the Jedi will come and see what he has done. This is not something the Jedi can ignore in favor of delaying his punishment. He smiles and shivers at the same time at just the thought of it.

“Anakin, what are you doing?”

Obi-Wan’s startled voice runs him through like a spear. Anakin stops dead in his movements, wide-eyed. Obi-Wan? Here?

His pause promptly earns him a blaster shot to the shoulder. He snaps his head back towards the bastard who shot him, hand thrusted out in a Force-push. The shooter flies through the air and slams against a store sign. Another blaster fires.

Obi-Wan deflects it away from Anakin.

Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

He staggers back and back away. This isn’t right. The Jedi should be asleep. He’s not meant to be in this nest of rats and vipers; not meant to know anything of this, to see Anakin in this state—just, just observe the aftermath and dispense his justice. Only the aftermath. Only when Anakin is ready.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Anakin says, his center lowered, his stance battle-ready. The scums around him scurry like cockroaches under the light of a lightsaber, even as Obi-Wan thumbs it off and clips it to his belt. “You should be in bed, not here.”

“The same could be said to you,” Obi-Wan says. Neon lights flicker on his face, his furrowed brows and tight lips, and there’s no light that’s ever been so dull, duller than the spark of dismay in his eyes that Anakin doesn’t want to acknowledge. “I would much prefer you to come back...”

“I have to be here.”

Obi-Wan is unflinching. He crosses his arms not only in a refusal to engage, but also in clear disapproval. “May I ask why?”

It’s the disapproval that makes Anakin’s heart drop.

“No,” he grits, breaths stuttering. He closes and opens his hand and warm sticky blood seeps into the cracks of his palm. If there is some semblance of a reflexive surface here, Anakin would look right into it, so desperate he is to see what color his eyes are. How does he look like to Obi-Wan right now? Does he deserve a punishment yet? Does he deserve anything?

Because if not, if he doesn’t, if he has no worth and Obi-Wan grows tired of him, he’ll be on his own again, facing the fact that he has lost everything and everyone and has nowhere to go and nothing to be. Hells, Anakin knows he shouldn’t be like this. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be so weak as to fear losing any one man, let alone one Jedi, one stupid Jedi; he shouldn’t care; why does he care so much; he hates it, he hates it.

“Why are you here?” Anakin backs away, towards the source of sound - there’s a gambling den nearby, where he could conceivably squirrel himself away. “What are you trying to do?”

Obi-Wan only raises his hands, palm forward. “To get you home. Anakin, you have...”

“Bantha shit,” Anakin spits. They’ve gathered yet again a sizable amount of curious onlookers. “What do you want, Jedi?”

“Anakin, please, calm down—”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Anakin roars, even though that is exactly what he has been seeking. Direct orders, uncomplicated. But not like this. Not with this benevolence. “If you’re not going to answer me then don’t fucking tell me what to do!” He steps back and back, and the only thing the Jedi does is match every backward step of his with one step forward of the exact same length. “Fuck you and your nice little lies; never say one straightforward thing, ever, because you’re too good for it, what a good Jedi. Just say you want to drag me back by the scruff and punish the nine hells out of me.” He gives a teeth-gritted grin. “Say it! I know you want to say it!”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even deign to look taken aback. He says nothing, does nothing, just stands there in that damned little display of harmlessness, so patient, so calm, like he’d be ready to ask for a cup of tea and sip it slowly while watching Anakin any moment now. So that’s how it is, huh?

The bystanders scatter in shrieks when one of them is suddenly lifted in the air, scrabbling at their neck with strangled noises. Anakin’s eyes are not even on them; he glares at the Jedi as his fingers curl. “Say it.”

Obi-Wan finally moves. He stands between the hapless stranger and Anakin. His eyes harden, the shadows on his face sharpen, and his voice turns steel-cold. “No.” He takes Anakin wrist in a vise-tight grip. “Let them go. Stop this, now.”

Finally.

Anakin lets go. Not just of the person, but of everything. He drops to his knees with his wrist still in Obi-Wan’s hand, and when it’s released, his arm swings down limply, colliding with his thigh in a dull slap. His head hangs as his eyes squeeze shut. He tucks his tongue back and tries not to wonder what it’ll be this time - lightning or lightsaber burn, electro-whip lashes or an invisible hand around his neck, water running over his face or the cold hard curved confines of the Sphere...

But nothing comes.

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice has always been very soft for someone so capable at fighting; even so, this is probably the gentlest tone he’s used yet.

“Anakin,” he says again, and the name feels safe in his mouth.

Anakin won’t be fooled. His Master liked to lull him into a sense of safety during his lessons, coaxing him to let down his guard just to strike harder after and make sport of his tattered body. He should know better. He should…

“Anakin, please, look at me.”

Obi-Wan’s voice is worth a little more pain.

He opens his eyes to find Obi-Wan’s. The Jedi is crouched before him, close enough to touch if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. Anakin can’t decipher the look on his face or even the hand hanging in the air between them that doesn’t have a lightsaber in it ready to strike him or lightning to burn him.

“That’s it,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Anakin doesn’t dare to breathe too hard.

Obi-Wan’s brows knit together. “I could not understand why you would leave in the midst of a night to do this. Where have I wronged you?” He sighs again into silence. “You scared me, Anakin.”

A punishable offense. So here’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, listing his sins before punishing him, ordering him to keep his eyes open in wait of the punishment to come. Anakin stares at him, eyes stinging, waiting. But instead of the burning of a blade on his back or a slow Force-choke around his neck, calloused fingers find his wrist. They move lightly above his skin, cautious, taking their time as if to unravel the tension under his flesh, wrapping around his hand. Anakin braces himself for the twist, for the sudden deceit and pain. Instead, Obi-Wan's thumb starts rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand.

“May I take care of you, then?” Obi-Wan asks, and something in his voice breaks a bit. “You’re hurt, dear one.”

These last words are like a saber to his heart. Anakin never thought Obi-Wan could be this cruel.

“Don’t,” he chokes out his last defiance, as his fists start trembling, “don’t call me that.” He bows his head deeply and shuts his eyes and goes as still and silent as possible. His insides are curling in on themselves, yet he doesn’t dare move. He’s nearly holding his breath, as the air moves around him. Fabric rustles, and he can feel arms drawing around him, and This is it he thinks, this is it, the pain will come and he will finally be released—

Obi-Wan pulls him to his chest.

This is not right. This is not real. This can’t be true. Nobody could be this gentle; nobody could forgive just like that, not with the insults and insolence and innumerable unpunished offenses old and new. Anakin does not get touched like this. He should not. His shoulders are squared stiff and his muscles constrict so hard that he starts shaking. He can barely breathe, because every breath knives into his tightened throat. His nose stings and his eyes burn and he gasps for air, only to take in a sharp sob.

“Please don’t… Please don’t do this to me.” Anakin gulps, clutching his own torso, fearful of the sudden warmth and tenderness. “Just—just punish me, I deserve it, please punish m—” He nearly bites his tongue trying to suppress the next sob. Tears always angered his Master. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I beg of you, please stop making me wait, Master, I’m sorry, please, just…”

Obi-Wan pulls back only to take Anakin’s face in his hands. Thumbs wipe over his cheekbones. “I’m not your Master,” he hushes, brushing hair back from Anakin’s forehead. “I’m not going to punish you, Anakin.”

And then Obi-Wan does the unthinkable: he lowers his outermost mental shields. He lets Anakin in, on his own. His concern scatters across the expanse of his psyche like gemstones, like blinking stars. His words are as true as the moon. I would like to bring you home. I would like to keep you safe. Obi-Wan’s hand cradles the base of his skull. Lips press into his hair. I would like to see you smile.

Anakin’s mouth falls open in a wail. He smushes his face against the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and soaks his robes with tears. He cries his throat raw and parched, cries until his jaws tremble, his teeth clatter, his head goes light. He lets go of his own flanks and bunches his fists into Obi-Wan’s robes instead. Obi-Wan’s arms are wrapped firmly around him like a promise.

Anakin hiccups one last time, and sags.

—

Ahsoka paces near the Temple’s gate. The Temple Guards glance at her every once in a while, and she’s a little bit annoyed, maybe, but that’s nothing compared to the worry brewing in her chest right now. Dawn is peeking at the horizon, and her Master is nowhere to be found.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” she mutters to herself, flooding her and Obi-Wan’s bond with the rightful amount of indignation. You should’ve taken me with you, Master!

She’s surprised to feel Obi-Wan’s response immediately. A brief sense of reassurance, and a nearness - he’s approaching. His presence is too mired in concerns for her to make out the exact message, but she gets the sentiment. Her worries go through and mirror his own. They’re probably worrying about the same thing, then.

Ahsoka knows Obi-Wan is back before he’s even within sight. Yet the sight of him still suffuses her with equal parts relief and amazement. In the light of dawn, her Master marches into the Jedi Temple, a gentle silhouette against the rosy sky. Limp in his arms, head pillowed on his shoulder, is Anakin No-Name, formerly known as Darth Vader, currently unconscious.

“Let them both in.” Ahsoka tells the Temple Guards, showing them her datapad. “Words from Master Yoda.”

Obi-Wan looks at her gently, mouthing a soft thank. Her steps fall beside his, and for a while there are only the sounds of their footsteps echoing in the great hall.

“Master.” Her eyes flick to Anakin, noting his red, puffy eyes in stark contrast with his ashen face and… are those dried tears? There is blood on the ex-Sith’s robes and on her Master’s and she sort of really wants to know which is whose. “Is he alright?”

“More or less,” Obi-Wan answers. Ahsoka frowns at him, yet he seems too deep in thoughts to notice that. She sets a hand on his arm.

“Master, the Council has…”

“I know, young one.” Obi-Wan pauses when Anakin chuffs, shuffling his arm to rearrange the ex-Sith in a more comfortable position, and continues on his way. “I would prefer you to go back to sleep. This is my responsibility to bear.”

#obikin #raised as sith anakin #always a sith anakin #ex sith anakin #so many names #star wars prequels #clem’s au #our au :’)#also im sorry i can’t take ‘kriff’ seriously #i have to say fuck #let anakin say fuck 2k21 #ALSO i wrote this last week but #i had to Exercise Some Self Control

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tellatennie · 4 years ago

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Shigaraki smut

I wrote this high asf so it'll most likely get deleted soon because when I wake up after publishing this ill regret being born lmo. This is literally my first time writing smut and i did it when i was high. Probably not a good combo.

WARNINGS: SEX

"OHH THAT'S JUST CHEATING" I shouted at my boyfriend, while smashing the buttons on the switch controller. We were playing Mario Kart and needless to say we were both quite competitive at it. "TOMURA STOP THAT'S CHEATING" I shrieked, he kept poking my side just when I would be getting ahead of him, causing me to lose control of the controller and allowing him to slip by.

"Its called playing smart!" he smirked at me and crossed the finish line in first. I sighed and rolled my eyes "Next one I'll get you" We were playing rounds of three, three tracks, three games, three chances to win. Now I only have two chances to win, seeing as my boyfriend was a cheater at every game we played. He even cheated during Monopoly by getting Dabi to distract me while he stole money and hotels from the box.

I had a plan though, I knew what to do to throw him off his game.

We started the second race, and we both kept our cars almost directly next to each other the whole time, at this point we knew how the other would react to something and we used that against each other. Crossing the line to start our third and final lap I waited until just the right moment to put my plan into play. I had planned it just carefully enough where he didn't see something was coming, but I was just barely ahead of him.

Just a little's way away from the final finish line I jumped on him and grabbed his controller and yanked it from him as hard as I could. He let out a yelp of shock and quickly reacted, going for the controller immediately. My premeditated plan work perfectly as I lifted both my feet up with s p e e d. He landed on my feet and groaned in light pain. He rolled his eyes as I passed the finish line in first and he stood up.

"That was so unfair!" I gave him the most innocent smile I could muster. "Its called playing smart babe!" I said in a borderline mocking tone. He snatched his controller back from me, accidentally disintegrating it. I laughed at his now emotionless 'I just died inside' face expression.

"Don't worry baby, I always keep spares just incase." I stood up and walked over to my table, picking up another controller I had set out, whilst picking up a little surprise present I had gotten Tomura. It was put in a cute little box that I had carefully wrapped ribbon around. I walked back over to him where he was sitting on my couch fidgeting his fingers, "I'm sorry (Y/N)". I plopped next to him and handed him the box. turning to face him while watching his expression change from confusion to happiness at the realization that I got him a present. He tugged at the ribbon but to no avail, the ribbon was put on there a bit tight, so he ended up just disintegrating the ribbon off. He lifted the lid off the box to reveal a pair of gloves that cover only two fingers to help him prevent destroying some things with his quirk. He lifted the gloves up and a smile spread across his face.

"Wow.. Thank you baby" He slipped the gloves on and looked at me with a goofy smile. "But I'm still gonna beat you in round 3"

"I'd like to see you try"

We had a deal that neither of us would try to make the other lose. ‘A fair fight’ we called it. It’s obvious no one had the intention to make this a fair fight, we were both glancing at each other and smiling. So yeah, obvious.

Eventually we had both made our way to first and second place, but I was showing to have the chance of being first. I was quite ahead of him and I just had my fingers crossed for a Bullet Bill power up to seal my win.

I came up on a row of power ups and I drove through one, waiting to see what I got. I got a banana. I huffed in defeat and kept driving, throwing the banana behind me.

“Ohh whaT THE HELL” Tomura said as he conveniently ran over the banana, causing his car to slow and allowing me to gain more of an advantage against him. "Haaa looks like I'm going to win!"

Suddenly he pounced on me, pinning my arms above my head with one hand while taking away my controller with the other. “What happened to no cheating? Did you just get too mad at me?” I mocked. He leaned over and kept my arms pinned with his forearm and used his hands to keep steering his car, not responding to me. I tried wiggling my arms out but to no avail, he’s pretty strong.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and flipped him onto his back in return. I snatched his controller away and made his racer drive off a cliff and tossed the controller onto the ground where he wouldn’t be able to reach it. I looked back at him to see that his face was slowly turning red. I leaned down and rested my head on his chest and smiled at him. I let go of his pinned arms and lowered my hands to trace the scratch marks on his neck. He brought his hands down and ran his fingers through my hair. He sat up and gripped the back of my neck, pulling me in to kiss him. I could feel his other hand start to roam up my thigh when we suddenly heard the Mario Kart finish line music play through the speakers. We broke away from the kiss to see who had won.

”WALUIGI!?” I yelled, jumping from my spot on the couch. Running up to the tv with my controller. “HOW DID WALUIGI WIN HE FUCKING SUCKS!” I huffed and crossed my arms, mumbling quite rude things directed at the annoying character. I felt Tomuras arms wrap around my waist as he laid his chin on my shoulder.

“It’s just a game baby, besides, that just means you and I are still tied. So we need to find another way to find the winner” He whispered that last part in my ear. “What other way are we gonna decide who wins then- ohhhh” I felt very very dumb in that moment. Tomura laughed and pulled me back onto the couch. I sat on the couch as he turned off the tv. I patted the cushion next to me to tell him to sit. He gave me a questioning look and sat next to me.

I flipped my leg around and crawled into his lap, facing him. He rested his hands on my waist and leaned up to kiss me. I put my hands on the sides of his head and deepened our kiss. He licked my bottom lip, asking for my permission. I parted my lips and he slipped his tongue into my mouth. There was no “battle for dominance”. There was him, just this gorgeous man exploring my mouth for the umpteenth time.

We broke from the kiss and I buried my head in his shoulder, slowly starting to rock my hips against his lap. I took in the scent of his cologne, it was the same cologne I had bought him for his birthday. It was my favorite on him and the fact that he uses it almost everyday makes me feel so many emotions, most of which I had never even grown up with.

He groaned as I grinded against him faster, I could feel his very obvious hard-on through his pants. He matched my grinding with his and used my hips to direct me the way he wanted. “God I love you” He mumbled into my ear, I tried to giggle but moaned as he put his hands up my shirt and kneaded my breasts. It had been a while since we were this intimate due to him being busy with the league but I was glad I had caught him on a day off.

He suddenly picked me up bridal style and carried me to my bedroom. He laid me on the bed and stood in between my thighs as I wrapped my legs around him. He slid my shirt over my head and un clipped my bra and started sucking on my sensitive buds. (I’m literally so high rn) I put my hands in his hair and tugged slightly, moaning his name.

”Nngh- T-Tomura, I n-need you” He looked up at me and stood straight, slipping my leggings and underwear off my legs. “Do you baby? Because you seemed to be doing fine earlier” He unbuckled his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. He aligned with my entrance and I was waiting for the immense pleasure soon to follow but there was nothing. I looked up at him and saw him smirking at me, whilst not moving.��

“W-what the hell. babe come on, pleaseee” I groaned with anticipation, trying to squirm but he quickly put his hands on my thighs, stopping any movement from me. “aghh Tomura I don’t know what you’re trying to do- OH GOD” I was mid sentence when he suddenly trust his member in me as fast as it seemed like he could. He groaned as he thrusted into me again and again “Oh baby you’re so tight”

Our moans filled the whole apartment as he never showed any sign of slowing down. I gripped the sheets and tried to match his movements but he kept me in his grip. That’s when I knew I was his for tonight, and I loved every second of it. With every deep thrust, his member hit my core just at the right spot where every time I feel like I’m going to burst from pleasure. My eyes rolled back into my head, waiting for my upcoming climax.

He stopped moving. My eyes snapped to him.

“Get on the bed on all fours for me baby” He said in a low octave that he usually had during our more intimate interactions and I feel like he knows it turns me on. I crawled onto the bed on all fours as instructed. He came up behind me and before I could even say anything snarky he once again thrust his member into me before I could even react. I buried my face in my pillow and matched his pace, pushing my ass into him.

He rubbed my ass sensually as his pace quickened. “mmm baby I’m close” he groaned. I nodded in my pillow and tried not to make the loudest sound I could. I could feel my climax rounding the corner.

I gasped and made an almost scream sound as I came around his dick. His pace slowed as he busted in me. He pulled out a few seconds after and I laid on my side, him following suit.

“I missed you” I mumbled into his chest as he pulled me closer. He rubbed simple shapes on my back and kissed my forehead.

“I missed you too baby.” I giggled and looked at him, pecking his lips.

”I think it’s safe to say you won the tie”

Ahhhahh i’m so fucking high right noww. I’ll most likely add a note at the top when I get off the high so whatever my sensible self says, listen lmaoooo

#tomura #shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #smut #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader smut

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volexis · 4 years ago

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only loved at night; oikawa x fem!reader

summary: you loved tooru, you really did, but you’ve realized he only sees you as the type of girl you can only love at night

warnings: angst, slightly suggestive but not really, one-sided relationships, falling out of love

wc: 0.9k

note: general taglist is open, send an ask or fill out this form to be added!

a/n: so i heard this one song on tiktok, i don’t even remember where it came from but it dropped this idea into my head and i had to write it... i’m trying out a different style of writing so i apologize in advance if this is wonky!

If there’s one thing you’ve learned over the course of your relationship, it's that Oikawa Tooru doesn’t love you. The notion was devastating at first, plundering your thoughts and dragging you through rows of sleepless nights, but it’s as the saying goes. Time heals all wounds.

This wound of yours festers and bleeds and wrenches at your heart. But you find it easier to bear the pain when he holds you like he means it; when his kisses taste like they’ll last forever even though you know he’ll be gone the next morning. His lips sear promises into your skin, reassurances sweet as starlight. In those moments, you let yourself believe the cut has closed, that his gentle fingers, twinned with the adoration you crave, have sewn it shut. When he parts you’re thrust back into a reality where the gash burns in his absence and the mere thought leaves a gaping emptiness where your hope should be.

You can’t help the way your eyes wander to your phone after the sun sets because you don’t want to miss a single message. You know better than to wait on him, but you can’t help it. You’re drawn to him in the most apocalyptic of ways, ever since he first sent you a glimmering smile that melted your heart to molasses.

He’s busy all day; he’s a professional volleyball player after all. The only chance he’d have to even spare a thought your way would be in the long hours of the night when you��re both lying in bed. You in your small, run-down half crumbling apartment, and him somewhere halfway across town in the loftiest home his salary could afford.

It hurts, tearing endlessly into you when you ask him, hands in trembling fists, why you’re never invited to any of his games. Why he never asks you to meet him out where the sunshine dances on your skin in a way the moon could never dream of doing. Oikawa hushes your racing mind and pulls you into his side with a grin, pressing a finger to his lips. "The sun wouldn’t be capable of withstanding your beauty; it’d try to outshine you and melt us all in the process.”

His words made you laugh at the time but split the tiniest crack in your faith in him, in you. A cavernous crevice of doubt grew swiftly as his visits were clipped shorter. Hands that once roamed your skin so soothingly left prickling trails of emptiness in their wake. Once the kisses that spilled hot coals into your soul dwindled to featherlight pecks of lingering iciness.

Still, your heart flutters ruthlessly every time you see him. On the days you catch glances of his warm grin glinting from a glossy magazine stacked at the checkout aisle at the store. When you overhear snippets of the charming lilt of his voice during a post-game interview on television, which never failed to send a shudder down your spine at the memory of that very same saccharine tone shifting dangerously dark in the quiet lull of night, his silver tongue peaking through honeyed lips that traced your every curve and curled into parts of you only he had access to.

Every taunting, tinny ding sent you scrambling for your phone for any search of his name. Undoubtedly you'd end up wasting a considerable amount of rosy afternoons, silently scrolling through his pages, your texts, your photos together. It’s hard to think the two of you had been friends long before any of this. Drifting through old high school photo albums brought nothing but pain and a surge of bittersweet melancholy to the back of your throat.

Oikawa is a star, apocalyptic and scathingly bright, a pillar that shines in the dark. If only you could look away. He smolders to the touch, rotting you inside out but he’d never know. All you can see is the luminescent smile he throws your way when slyly mentioning his next free evening down to the hour, staring expectantly with eyes you could never say no to.

Oikawa is a star, burning too hot, too quick, and a billion miles away. You can only glance at him through a telescope and will him to move closer, even if it’s just by an inch. You dedicate every waking moment to him regardless of how it all tore you to ribbons inside, how it leaves your heart battered and bruised. You are the gentle expanse of mottled ink blanketing the sky, cushioning his falls, complimenting him catastrophically so. The darkness that brings out his light, only there when he requires it. Oikawa Tooru doesn’t love you, not in the way a star shines on the landscape it resides in, not in the way you love him. He loves you the way a liar keeps his secrets; too proud to illuminate you in any light other than his own. Whether it’s vanity or shame or something else you’d rather not consider, to him, you’ll always be the type of girl he’ll only love at night.

general taglist: @pockyxx

also tagging: gabs @tetsukuroosgf bc oikawa <3 (also i hope it’s ok if i tagged you...)

#oikawa x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #oikawa imagines #tooru x reader #oikawa tooru imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfic #hq x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #oikawa tooru #e: writes

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thefallendivine · 3 years ago

Text

Everly: Lost and Found

As I have already written the scenes where the MC and the Guardian companion met, I saw it fit to finally post the introductory shorts for the Guardians. This is for the first one.

WARNING: Minor spoilers ahead. If you want to keep your surprise about the Guardians for when the game releases in the distant future, then scroll past this post.

Rain and an abandoned road: a depressing combination for a teamster. Made worse by the slow pace of the pair of arcane oxen that pulls on the train of carts— ychen bannog, the Giants call them. They are a large, hairy, and long-horned bovine with a boulder-like hump between its shoulders that is magically bred to be a food source for the Giantkind of Rhal Vahald. As their meat is too tough for the tastes of other races, they instead use the ychen bannog as draft animals for their formidable strength and ability to traverse both dry and wet terrain.

Hitting bumps along the trail that cuts through a field of reed, the chains that secure the interlinked carts rattle as the cages teeter on top of the wheeled wood rafts. Along with the downpour and the occasional whimpers from the children gagged and hog-tied inside the canvased cages, they are the only tether the carter, Riegel, has to reality. Driving through the Secret Road is otherwise monotonous when the visibility is too poor that it truly shrouds its “secrets”.

People who use the road and the vast field embraced by its rain and mist know to look but never to tell, as legends proven true in the past hold a tight grip in the minds of those who hear them. Clandestine dealings, forbidden meetings, escapees in hiding, disposal of high profile bodies or unwanted children, all of these are common in the Secret Road. For slave traders, it is the perfect road to move their goods; it keeps their business afloat and away from attention during transport. It is a blessing. And it is a gold mine.

And today, Riegel has struck a vein.

From his elevated seat, Riegel can see a child in a black and white dress walking ahead, going in the same direction as his wagon train. He perks up, surprised at the quality of the girl’s attire. Whether lost or abandoned, there is no reason not to add such a find in the pile.

Tugging at the reins, Riegel halts the huge beasts of burden ways away from the child. A couple of snorts and a few clip-clops of hooves later, he is signaling to his co-workers in the carts to keep the children quiet before proceeding to approach the little girl, who has now turned around in apparent notice of the conspicuous large beasts, sleepy brown eyes watching as Riegel plants a practiced smile on his lips. Supplying a smooth wave of the hand, he calls out loudly to be heard in the rain yet friendly to match the expression he adopted.

“Hey, little girl, where did you come from?” Riegel proceeds to look around, a show of confusion despite having none. “What are you doing in the middle of the road? In the rain?”

The girl does not reply.

Riegel takes of his cloak before squatting down, encircling his arms to put the damp fabric around the girl. “Here,” he says, pulling the hood over her light blonde head. “I can take you home if you want.”

Still no reply.

Such a thing is not unusual when it comes to children who have been thrust into such misfortune. Uncontrollable sobs and fear usually keep them from even uttering something remotely discernible. The girl is overcome by neither, yet she does not speak.

Stranger still for Riegel is that the girl has not a trace of any kind of reaction on her face. Much like a doll, both physically and emotionally.

All alone up until now, in the dark, in the cold, and the young child is unafraid. Faced with a stranger brought by large beasts and she does not even bat an eye.

A sudden shudder creeps up his back but Riegel brushes it off as nothing more than a bodily reaction to exposure.

“Do you see my wagons?” Riegel asks, jerking his head back, at which the girl’s eyes finally moves to look. “It’s much warmer over there. Come on.”

His hand presented in invitation, Riegel gives the girl the chance to come amicably. For any bruise on such a fair skin will diminish the value that Riegel sees in her.

After what feels like a long wait under the heavy rain, the girl’s gaze trains back on Riegel’s. Her hand lifts slowly, the man's smile growing wider as it inches closer to his.

But her small hand moves higher, past Riegel’s laid out hand and stopping right in front of his face. The last thing he sees is the two overlapping squares on her palm before the scenery before him changes.

Riegel sees a house on a backdrop of a sweeping pasture. He stares up at the windmill that stands tall beside the Pasturian-style cabin. The door opens, and out comes a girl of eight twin moons.

It’s her birthday today.

There is an excited smile that lights up her face as she runs up to Riegel and screams out, “Dad!”

Stooping down, Riegel catches the child and spins her around as he does, legs swinging in the air as her giggles warms his chest. Riegel ends his welcome with an embrace, clutching the girl close to him. “Wow! I was gone for a day and you’ve grown this much? My little girl’s not so little anymore.”

Stretching her arms up, she replies proudly, “Yup! I’m a grown up!”

Riegel laughs, eyes shifting ahead to his approaching wife. A serious look on her face as she looks past him; to someone behind him.

Riegel turns to find three men, familiar ones. People he has worked with in the past.

“It’s time, Riegel,” the one ahead of the trio says. “Hand the girl over.”

“What?” Riegel asks, searching the faces in front of him. “What do you mean hand her over?”

The men do not reply, but their expressions tell everything Riegel needs to know about their intentions. He looks to his wife. “Take her inside,” he tells her as he hands over his daughter.

However, instead of doing what he asked her to, Riegel’s wife walks towards the men and gives their daughter willingly.

“What are you doing?!” Riegel lunges forward, but the other two men grab hold of his arms before pinning him to the ground. “Let me— Get your filthy hands off her! Give her back!”

Riegel’s frantic sputtering is matched by his daughter’s crying, confused and afraid of what is happening. The man who holds her looks down on Riegel with pity. “She doesn’t belong to you, Riegel.”

“She’s my daughter! She—“

Riegel freezes.

She’s my daughter. But… what’s her name?

Riegel’s eyes turn manic, disgusted at himself for forgetting his daughter’s name. He forces himself to remember, the times he calls to her to do some light chores, when he first started teaching her how to say her name, or the day she was born. But there is nothing there.

Riegel looks up, only to find the people who surrounded him to be all faceless. The men, his wife, and even his daughter.

But before Riegel can question what he is seeing, the gaps in his memory start to rebuild themselves, like pieces affixing into a broken puzzle to create a big picture, one that depicts his entire life.

From his time as a boy, when he met his wife, and when they had their daughter.

Just then, Riegel finally remembers her name.

He speaks it hurriedly.

It is certain that Riegel said the name.

However, Everly does not linger long to find out what the imaginary mortal girl is called. Despite her life of eternity, she does not have the time to waste on falsities. Even if in the fantasies she crafted, the karmic punishment of the trapped individual's hallucinatory future is quite satisfying to watch.

Everly looks back at Riegel, the slaver’s head is enclosed in her cube of illusions, one that contains a whole world and a whole life she concocted for him. There were a few complications, but in the end, Everly managed to use her Rune well.

She looks up ahead, to the other insects who feed on blooming flowers. It does not hurt to get a few practices in, the road will keep her secret. After all, Everly has a lot to live up to, a lot to prove, plenty of lost time to make up for, as the Goddess of Vision and Creation.

#main companions #guardians

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 4 years ago

Text

Be Mine

For: @sweetcannolicarisi Candy Hearts Bingo. A request from the lovely @beccabarba who requested this:

Hope this hits the spot love x

Bingo square: Be Mine.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x reader.

Warnings: Roughish Smut. Hair tug, knee humping.

WC: 2072

Enjoy x

When he added you on Facebook and liked your last photo you posted you were surprised that the Cartel Boss had even noticed you in your Uncle’s crowded home. You were Marcus’s niece and he had invited Miguel over when he was having a small get together. Of course you were all welcoming, especially your cousin. But his eyes followed you as you walked through the room, he watched as your black BoHo Mexican off the shoulders dress hugged to your breasts and waist flowing over your body. How your curled hair flowed down on your side pony tail with a red rose clipped in it. He watched on as you showed respect for the older members of the family, your smile lighting up your face, when all your cousin could do was try to stick her tits in his face and run her hand up his thigh under the table.

So, to say you were shocked at the friend request and the private message was an understatement. The messages of course started off innocent and friendly, up until one night when you were out with your single friends and a group of cousins for the night before Valentine’s Day and you were tagged in a photo in a short black leather shirt and a yellow silk plunging neck line shirt tucked in, with black peep toed heels.

No sooner had the photo been posted your phone vibrated with a very flirty message from Miguel, of course you replied. You told your friends about the messages and they pulled you out of the club pulling you to a bodega making you buy a small white card with love hearts around its corners. Your friend had a pen in the car and you simply wrote,

“Be Mine xx”

Your friends drove up to the Galindo house, one of them jumping out putting the card in the mail box and driving away,

“They have camera’s you know. It’s Galindo estate” you rolled your eyes.

“You didn’t get out so don’t worry about it, just invite us to the wedding.” Your friend nudged you.

You woke up the next morning to multiple messages from Miguel, wishing you a Happy Valentine’s Day and asking if you would like to come to the estate the following night for dinner and a drink. You accepted his invite glad you had a full day of work ahead that day and tomorrow giving you something else to think about other than the handsome Cartel Boss and being alone with him.

You got home from work later on in the afternoon that next day, a smile stuck to your face after you got a message during your lunch break,

“Looking forward to tonight x”

After showering, doing your hair and makeup you picked a caramel colour skirt that had a wrap bow waist and a black form fitting short sleeved t shirt tucked in and slides. You got into your car making the drive up to the Galindo estate nervous not just because of Miguel, but seeing your uncle as well, wondering what he would think.

You arrived at the gates and they started to open as soon as you drove up. You drove down the drive way scanning for the well known Galindo vehicles seeing none, not even seeing your Uncle’s in the yard. You drove close to the front door putting your car in park and getting out walking to the big wooden door. You pressed the doorbell taking in a deep breath as the door opened and your heart jumped into your throat.

Miguel was in a black button down tucked into grey pants with his sleeves rolled up and his buttons undone down his chest, his neck on full show,

“Y/N” Miguel smiled “How are you? Come in” He stepped aside so you could walk in “You look amazing”

“Thank you” you walked in a little turning to look at him “You look very handsome”

Miguel lent over giving you a kiss on the cheek,

“Thank you for coming”

“Thank you for having me. Mi Tio?” you smiled slightly at him.

“I gave him the night off. He is a good man, he needs rest” Miguel’s hand went to the small of your back guiding you into the large living room leading out to an even larger patio overlooking the hills.

“Wow. What a beautiful view” your eyes were wide looking out the doors.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Water please”

“Water?” Miguel scoffed back playful “I didn’t ask you to come up here for water Y/N”

“I have to drive” you shot back with a grin.

“We can work that out later”

You nodded and watched Miguel walk over to the kitchen whimpering softly looking at his ass in his well fitted pants. Miguel walked behind the kitchen bench moving around grabbing different things to make you a gin and tonic and a whiskey for himself. He started to walk back over to you, drinks in hand with a confident cocky swagger.

“Come, we can sit outside. Dinner won’t be long”

As you walked outside you saw the beautiful black iron and glass top table. Miguel walked over to a chair putting the drinks down on the table, pulling out a chair for you and then moved to another chair next to you sitting down,

“How was work? You’re a nurse?” Miguel looked over at you.

“Yes emergency, it was good, busy though. A lot of heat related cases today. Your day?”

“Same as any other. Although one thing was different”

Miguel reached into his pocket pulling something out and throwing it on the table. You tried to keep a straight face sitting your glass on the table reaching for the white card with hearts around its edges and reading it again. You giggled slightly and sat the card back on the table,

“Seems like you have an admirer Mr Galindo”

“Seems I do” Miguel lent onto the table “Guess I’ll have to do some digging around”

“I’ am pretty sure you have the man power for that. Maybe you can add them on Facebook once you find out who it is” You grinned reaching for your drink.

You heard the scrap of his chair on the tiles and before you had a chance to take a breath Miguel turned the chair with you on it to face him, his hands resting on the arms of the outdoor chair, his face almost on yours,

“Y/N” his voice was low and face soft but his tone was matter a fact. Your eyes scanned up over his bearded chin, over his pink lips up into his eyes, the glint in them kicking into your centre and you squeezed your thighs together “Is that card from you?”

“N-no” you took in a deep breath and Miguel raised an eye brow at you, his eyes boring straight into you “Yes- ok yes. It’s from me. My friend put it in the mail box on the way home from the club the other night”

Miguel lent forward his lips ghosting yours, his beard almost running along your chin and you gasped,

“As beautiful as you are, being out dressed like that” Miguel nudged his knee between yours pushing your legs apart “Having your pick of anyone at the club” Miguel had brought his knee all the way to the edge of the chair pushing your skirt up slightly “A friend drove you up here to put a note in my mail box” Miguel stood up off you, nudging his knee completely between your legs, your skirt riding all the way up, his knee resting at your clothed core bent on the chair and Miguel seen you bite your bottom lip closing your eyes briefly.

“Yes” you moaned loud when he pushed into your core with more pressure.

“You could have told me over message” Miguel rubbed his knee over you.

“I was trying to be sweet” you breathed out heavy, your hands balling into fists on your lap.

“You don’t need to try hard” Miguel ran his finger down your jaw his knee pushing into your centre again “You didn’t need to ask me to be mine when you already are”

In a heartbeat Miguel pulled his knee away from you, grabbed your hand and pulled you up into him. Your skirt was still up above your hips, his hands going straight to your ass cheeks kneading them through your lace panties your hands threading into his bearded cheeks. Your lips crashed together for a rough and deep kiss. Miguel pulled away his pupils fully blown,

“Show me what it likes to be yours Miguel”

Miguel growled and pulled you upstairs to his bedroom. There was a trail of clothing leading up the stairs into Miguel’s bedroom. Miguel was kissing down your neck as you stood with the back of your legs resting on the edge of the bed, his beard marking you, his lips rested just below your collar bone above your breast and he started to nip and suck hard on the spot, running one hand down between your legs running two fingers through your sleek folds covering his fingers with your wet before they plunged into your warm wet centre, your fingers threading into his hair tugging slightly. Miguel started driving his fingers into you twisting his fingers up so his palm was pushing onto your clit,

“Yes Miguel just like that. Don’t stop” you groaned.

Miguel pulled off your skin with a rough pop, looking at the purple mark he left on you grinning with hooded eyes. You ran one hand down to his long hard cock wrapping your hand around it stroking him feeling his pre-cum coat your hand.

“Show me Miguel” you groaned loud and breathless.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed at you, pulling his finger out of you and he pushed you down on the bed by your shoulders. Miguel walked over to his bedside table opening the top drawer opening and rolling on protection. Miguel as back crawling over you. He grabbed both your wrists in his bringing them together in one hand pinning them up above your head. He then grabbed your thigh throwing it over his shoulder pushing himself forward so your knee was up near your chin,

“Still want to be mine baby girl? Miguel purred, the head of his covered cock at your centre.

“Yes Miguel yes”

Miguel snapped his hips forward hard, your back arching off the bed as he hit your sweet spot first go from the angle he had you in. Miguel pulled almost fully out and then snapped his hips back into you again and you both moaned loud at the sensation.

“Your so beautiful” Miguel grunted out as he thrusted into you hard and deep.

Miguel could see by your slack jaw, the noises you were making and the way your pussy was fluttering around him, you were close. Miguel dropped your leg he was holding and let go of your wrists getting up on his knees. Miguel’s hands went to your hips pulling you into him as he thrusted into you chasing his own release while he watched your tits bounce around as he slammed into you.

One of your hands groped at your boob while the other rushed down to circle your neglected pearl. You looked up at Miguel his jaw now slack, a sheet of sweat over his solid form, his muscle twitching under his skin.

You came hard and fast, you’re back completely arched off the bed, your moans loud wailing Miguel’s name pretty much breathless. Miguel came undone with a loud roar and a deep thrust. Spanish and your name spilling out of his mouth. Miguel rolled off of you onto his back for a moment and then got up to go and clean himself up,

“Get into bed Y/N”

You moved to get under the sheets and Miguel came back getting into bed next to you. Miguel lent over you, kissing you deeply, laying back and pulling you onto his chest kissing the top of your head,

“I like being yours” you ran a finger down his chest.

Miguel tilted your head back with his pointer finger, licking over your lips

“I liked making you mine. Guess you don’t need to worry about getting home now? Another drink with dinner baby?”

“I thought you’d never ask”

Tags: @witches-unruly-heart @thatesqcrush @teamsladsandgents @amorestevens @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo smut #maynas #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #miguel galindo x you

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evilzoldyck · 5 years ago

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High School Sweethearts

It was hard to speak when you’re bent over the desk while your boyfriend forcefully held your head down, flipped your skirt over and tugged your underwear to the side to bring his hard dick right into your raw cunt. Nevertheless, he seemed unbothered by the lack of preparation as he started to thrust vehemently with a bitter passion, inattentive to your feelings and inconsiderate to your needs.

The sensation of Phinks’ vigorous intrusion left a burning and stinging ache on your end, this was by far the most painful sex you’ve had with him, if you even can call it that. The dim classroom you were in too offered no comfort whatsoever, the hard wooden desk beneath you and the pressure of him from above was beginning to give your chest an uncomfortable squeeze.

You think of shoving him off and escaping, but you knew that you were no match for his almost monstrous strength, had it not been for his appearance you would mistake him for another being for possessing such Herculean-like power. You also knew that he locked the door, and further beyond that stood his friends keeping a steady watch for his buddy that just wanted to have a little talk with his girl.

All because he heard rumours spreading around school that you were going to breakup with him.

“So fucking stupid,” Phinks venomously spat out. His brows furrowed furiously with his eyes pierced to your helpless form, his violent thrusts never faltered even through your stammering pleas. The sheer unbridled fury he exuded left you crippling in fear on whether you’re going to come out of this classroom in one piece. You’ve seen what he was like around others, you just didn’t anticipate that you’d be receiving the infamous temper from him so soon.

His rage that was once rigorously contained around you were now left unchained, you just pray that somebody would come through the door and rescue you before he does anything worse.

Coarse hands slid through your strands and bunched your hair together near the roots to sharply pull them. You were honestly glad you didn’t have to face him through this ordeal, you couldn’t stand seeing his face shooting acrimonious glares into your own, but mostly it’s because you didn’t want him to see you crying. You couldn’t let him see how much he hurt you, how much power he had over you for he might take pleasure in your humiliated, broken state.

Letting the tears run down your face silently, you gripped onto the edge of the desk so tightly that your knuckles turned white from the grip, biting down on your lip to prevent any sobs from slipping out. You felt Phinks’ gruff pants from behind you, his hands never relenting from squeezing down on your hips and pulling on your hair harshly. It was clear he was far from forgiving you or even listening to what you had to say; all he could focus on was exerting his emotions physically onto you.

You should’ve seen this coming. The school’s infamous social pariah showing up randomly into your class and threatening others to leave just so he could ask you out in private. Of course you questioned it, just exactly what had you done to garner his attention? It wasn’t as if you were in or even knew his tight knit circle personally. You knew that he was a bad influence, the kind of company he keeps and the reputation he carries would just be detrimental to your respectable social image.

But at that time, you couldn’t care less. His awkward and brusque confession was so endearing that it was enough to convince yourself to give him a chance. Who knew underneath that coarse exterior was something that was sweet and almost kind albeit a little unsure, however you figured he was trying. Wondering why it took him to come forward and reveal himself for you to see through his facade after all this time before.

However you knew that at this age you were not going to come close to actually know what real love is or even begin to understand it. Also, you weren’t expecting that Phinks would be the one you’d see at the end of the aisle waiting for you, but you at least wanted the high school romance experience. To have your very first boyfriend during the height of your exuberant and capricious youthful days. Something to look back at history and reminisce to.

The first week with him was great, the unwavering stares and the nebulous whispers were just what you were expecting when you accepted his confessions, though you weren’t quite used to the blinding spotlight as you stood at the centre topic of high school gossip. If Phinks ever felt the same way, he didn’t mention anything to address it. Rather he would see you after class and take you onto the rooftop where he effectively broke the lock on the door with an effortless tug just to have some time with alone with you.

To be within a close proximity with someone like Phinks emotionally and physically was a bit daunting. In the first few days you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him straight in the eyes or ask the questions you’ve been dying to know like: since when? How? Why? Nevertheless you knew it was best not to ask since you figured Phinks himself wasn’t very good at articulating his emotions anyway. You figured the small pauses of comfortable silence and shy touches would be enough for now.

You still remember that day where he stole you from gym class to bring you to a secluded corner in the back of the building. Your very first kiss was shared there and you couldn’t deny that the heart at least flickered. It was like a scene from an oversaturated romance clip ever, but the soft feeling of his lips against yours with his rough hands gently cupping your cheeks was something directors couldn’t sincerely translate to the audience.

When he pressured you to skip class one morning, you thought it would just be a one time thing. But the next thing you knew, you’d find yourself in aimlessly wondering the streets with Phinks by your side every day. Of course, the grades that you worked so hard to keep up before suffered because of your arbitrary absence, leading you to stay up late each night to catch up because you find it so hard to say no to him.

The more time you spent with him, the more you began to notice that you hardly had the chance to see your friends. They also noticed it too and though they were mildly concerned as to why you would say yes to a guy you barely knew or talked to, they were happy for your new profound relationship.

You couldn’t help but feel awkward every time you pass your small circle of friends by the hallway with Phinks close by your side. Your heart tightened as you all shoot a polite smile at each other, the familiarity that you all shared once before was diminishing slowly.

Phinks was always invasive of your personal life, the moments of time you didn’t share with him, he’d intrude and let himself in anyway. You recounted at how he would scroll through your phone with a pensive glare, looking as if he’s expecting to catch something. You didn’t like it, but you also didn’t know that this wasn’t supposed to be a normal high school relationship.

You stared anxiously as Phinks’ eyes scrutinised your phone screen, scrolling through your apps, photos, messages and contacts. While there was nothing for you to hide, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable letting him go through your phone. Sitting patiently across him, you fidgeted with your nails hoping that he wouldn’t find something to get angry at.

“Who’s this?” He glared at you, showing you a name on your contacts that you had forgotten. It was your science project partner from last year, you forgot you still had his number in your contacts. When you replied just as what you had thought, he returned his eyes back to the phone and pressed delete. Even though you didn’t need it, you wanted to refute, tell him he couldn’t just erase someone’s number from you like that.

And it was as if he read your mind, you suddenly perked up when he bluntly said, “the project’s over right?” While continuing his peruse on your social connections.

“Yeah,” you dryly replied, looking down at your shoes as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the world. You hated it when he got just a little bit mad, you’ve seen the extent of his anger and even if you were his, there was no telling what he’d do if you push him far enough off the edge. So you often found yourself doing mental gymnastics to justify his actions.

“Then you don’t need it anymore,” he stated, almost coming off as condescending. You weakly agreed with him.

The time he suggested the both of you study at your house that day you told him how you were falling behind on maths, you didn’t think much of it. In fact, you were excited. Throughout the relationship he’d always set the schedule for the both of you and when he finally considered to set up a time that you needed, you were touched. Though that feeling quickly fleeted when he suddenly pinned you down on your bed.

“P-Phinks,” you breathed out in between his kisses. Your body was superimposed by his while his hands that held your sides desperately roamed freely. The books that you brought were uselessly thrown to the carpeted floor and it was clear to you now that studying wasn’t his intention from the start.

You held on to his shoulder and pushed him so that there was some distance between you two. “I thought we were just going to study,” you asked earnestly, looking for some sympathy in his eyes.

He smirked smugly and leaned in to kiss you once again, “yeah?” He chuckled in amusement. “That’s cute.” You should’ve known he couldn’t give what he didn’t have. He practically ripped your uniform blouse to get to your skin, not minding the buttons that scattered everywhere. His mind was set in stone for pleasure while yours was a conundrum.

Do you want to give it to him right now? Are you ready to lose your virginity? Does this mean he was The One? Do you want to save it for someone else? Who? Is high school the time to explore these things? Were you moving too fast?

You couldn’t remember what happened during the intercourse, but you remembered him finally leaving when your parents came home.

The next day your friends lead you to a quiet corner of the school to finally talk, they strategically caught you on a rare time where Phinks was preoccupied with reigning chaos over some unfortunate student with his friends. Knowing that you preferred to stay out of it, Phinks reluctantly left you alone for the day.

They confronted you about him, how he’s got you on such a tight leash and how they missed you, wondering when you’ll be back with them just like the old times. When it was time for you to answer, you couldn’t properly structure a sentence. Instead, the next thing you knew there was tears in your eyes. You murmured out that he took advantage of you, you couldn’t help but sob out uncontrollably and fell down to the abrasive gravel.

Hearing yourself admit it out loud helped you processed the thoughts and feelings of the altercation of what happened yesterday. Your friends were immediately by your side, holding you tightly as you cried out in distress. They shot each other a bewildered look at the implication of your statement. You held on to the supportive grip of their hands, letting yourself sob into their shoulders as they hugged you tightly and soothed your back while occasionally brushing your hair back from your wet face, not telling you to stop or say anything else.

The familiar warmth you’ve been craving for all this time, they gave it to you without question. You poured out your heart that period, wept until your tears went dry and sobbed until your lungs gave out. They never left your side. You figured once you told them you’d feel humiliated and embarrassed but they never even made an accusation of the sort, in fact they prevented you from thinking such things about yourself.

When they suggested the police get involved, you quickly opposed, you didn’t want to make such a noise about it. Perhaps you still regarded some feelings for him, even though you shouldn’t and he could never deserve it, but regardless you didn’t want anyone else to know. Though it was clear that they weren’t satisfied, they settled on you breaking up with him for now.

You didn’t know who stumbled and saw you that day with your friends, but someone did. News travelled around the campus like a grapevine and soon everyone is whispering of you breaking up with the infamous Phinks Magcub soon.

When the gossip finally reached him, he threw the maths report that he waited on for some kid to finally finish it in anger, leaving the papers to fall onto the muddy ground behind him as he marched straight to the building. He was going to surprise you with the report you’ve been so worried about and to hear of your betrayal enraged him to the point that he couldn’t hear or see anyone but you.

Meanwhile you stood in an empty classroom, worried when your friends didn’t come to your class on the last bell of the day in which they promised to meet, the whispers were getting louder and you weren’t sure how you could face him alone. You looked out the window and sighed, it was going to rain again. If that wasn’t an a bad omen the moment you turned to the door where Phinks suddenly emerged from was.

You were so naive to think you can escape him without a scratch.

Phinks could hear the sobs you tried to stifle as you pleaded out when you finally couldn’t handle it anymore. “S-Stop- Phinks please...” you whispered out, squeezing out the tears stinging your eyes. Your throat felt like it was coiled with wires of barbs tightening every time you held yourself back from emitting a sound.

He let out a series of violent thrusts before he finally came, pulling your hair down harshly as you cried in pain. Once he let go of your hair and tucked himself back in, he turned you around to look at your grief stricken face. “Are you sorry?” He asked, completely apathetic to your side. You weakly nodded, casting your eyes from his.

“Good girl,” he brusquely wiped your cheek with his thumb before pulling you close to him, forcing you to lay your head in his shoulder. You feel his lips tickle your ear when he muttered softly, “let’s not fight anymore.”

It wasn’t like you had a say in it anyway.

#tw: noncon #toxic relationship #tw: yandere #extreme noncon #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere phinks x reader #yandere x reader #phinks x reader #phinks magcub #Hunter x Hunter 2011 #Hunter X Hunter #yandere phantom troupe #smut #non-con #high school au

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aroaceslytherin · 4 years ago

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A03 AU HP Fanfic (Finally Here!)

Chapter 1: Karma Killed Her (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31582727/chapters/78143753) (mention of abuse and homophobia, some transphobia)

QUITE LONG

1953 Walburga winced as the maids pulled tighter on her corset. Her nails dug into her palms. Her arms hanging loosely at her sides. Today was her wedding day. Yesterday was the day she had been practicing her posture. Her mother hit her quite a number of times whilst screaming; ‘Upright! Left, right, forward, back. Let him lead! Your wedding must be perfect or else it will surely lead you to a life of solitude!’ For as long as Walburga could remember, she had been a little unsteady on her feet. She would chase her brothers down the hall and clip a corner to close which resulted in bruises on her shoulders, falling on her arse and limping for a week, or that one time she stained her mothers floorboards with a broken nose. That was a day she would never forget. FLASHBACK She could already hear the furious steps of her mother’s heels as they climbed the winding stairs of their manor. “CAMELIA WALBURGA BLACK!” Walburga groaned internally as the witches mended her nose. “Mother, I have told you. I cannot help it that I stumble!” Irma growled, hitting her daughter over the head with her palm. “You need to listen to the etiquette teachers! Practice makes perfect after all, and you are to be the perfect heiress someday! We already have your husband chosen, and I am not having you ruin anything with your clumsy nature! I will see to it you go twice every-day from here on out!” Walburga opened her mouth to protest. Her mother clamped her mouth shut, pushing the medi-witches out of the washroom. “Enough, ladies!” She knelt in front of Walburga, tilting her daughter’s head up so grey eyes met hers. “You are growing up, dear. I cannot have you muddying up your dresses anymore as you chase your brothers ‘round this house! It is unladylike! You are soon to be eleven! Tis’ time you act like a grown woman!” Irma pulled her daughter up and shoved her to the door. “Dinner is downstairs getting cold, I suggest you eat before you get none. AND CLEAN UP YOUR BLOOD BEFORE BED OR YOU GO HUNGRY FOR A WEEK!” END FLASHBACK Walburga tousled her curls through her fingers and admired her dress in the floor-length mirror before she headed out of her bedroom and into the halls. Her heels tapped softly on the hardwood floor as she made her way downstairs. She tripped once she got to the bottom. Though not over herself. “ALPHARD!” She screamed, picking up the two-year-old dressed in a black ruffled dress. She hoisted her on her hip, supporting her with one hand under the baby's bum. Walburga stormed through the house looking for her younger brother just shy of one year. She found him outside in the greenhouse, taking a drag. She groaned, shifting the squirmy brat to her other side.

“Alphard Roland Black!” She yelled through gritted teeth, pushing through the greenhouse doors.

He hadn’t noticed her until she grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground, stomping on it with her heeled boot; putting it out.

“Fuck’s sake, what?!” Alphard yelled, hands to the side. Walburga thrust the baby into his arms. He took her with a groan of protest and disgust. “I don’t want this.”

“You are on baby duty!” Walburga huffed, crossing her arms and scowling at him. “We expected you to be keeping these kids from being in our way, and you are out here smoking fags?!”

“Why are we doing this? They are Cygnus’ after all! Besides, this whole cousin marrying cousin thing is absurd!” He waved his hand in a circle, rolling his sharp grey eyes.

“Mother is against people knowing he had kids out of wedlock and in his teens. Why are you so against everything she teaches?”

“So is Cygnus!”

“NOT!” Walburga screamed. “He merely broke one rule, you go against everything!” She swiped her hand through the air firmly to signify her point.

“WALBURGA!” Their mother screamed from the porch. “Get back in this house this instant!”

Walburga poked her brother in the chest with her sharp nail painted black. "Watch the brats or I will have your head.” She growled as she hiked up her dress with a huff before heading back to her mother. “Heaven forbid my kids act like him.” She murmured under her breath.

Upon approaching her mother, Irma cast cleaning charms on her then pushed her inside. “I thought I told you to stop going after Alphard, you are twenty-five for crying out loud.”

“He was smoking again and was not watching Bellatrix like you asked. I tripped over her.” She felt her mother’s grip tighten on her shoulder at the mention of her brother with cigarettes again. Walburga shrugged her off and headed to the front parlour with a huff.

***

Hours later everything had gone well. Walburga was proud of herself she had not made a fool of herself as the new Lady Black. There was laughter and chatter between the whole of the Pureblood society and, as suspected, no mud-bloods, half-bloods, or traitors had attended.

Walburga greeted everyone by name; to be polite. She danced gracefully this time (as the bruises, cuts, and welts from her mother had reminded her) with the various partners she had taken up as they moved throughout the ballroom. She felt confident, proud, and more-so like a lady than she had when she woke up that morning.

Walburga jumped in her skin when her brother surprisingly came out of nowhere then grabbed her by the wrist.

Alphard spun his sister into his embrace. She grimaced at his breath.

“You smell like you had gone and drunk all of our liquor." She took his hand and placed a hand on his shoulder as they began to waltz. "Where are the children, brother mine?”

“Sleeping, darling. Don’t you worry.” He smirked that notorious Black lineage smile that most everyone in their family wore proudly. “Congratulations, sis.” He kissed her on the cheek, spinning her twice before dipping her. “I am afraid I may have to leave permanently.”

“What?!” She hissed quietly, pulling herself up before darting her grey eyes around the vast room to make sure no one around her heard. “You cannot! Must you?”

Alphard brought the rhythm back before they tripped over each other. “I cannot handle mother any longer. You ratted me out, it was worse than last. I am an outcast here and you know it.”

“Who will help with Bella and Andie?” Walburga asked, politely declining another dance as her brother spun her again.

“Mother said you are to take them until he is of age. By then, though, he may just not be a suitable father.” Alphard bowed to her as the next symphony started. He grabbed her two hands in his, pulling her to him before kissing her forehead. “I love you.” Alphard handed her off to the male that had asked her for her hand last time before fleeing and never looking back.

____________

As the evening drew on, Walburga grew tired and tipsy. Several people had left or retired to the hallway to have a proper chat. As she danced with Orion, she noticed William Lestrange and her mother talking in a corner.

“Pass me to him, please. I need to get closer to my mother.”

Orion obeyed and took the next lady into his arms. Walburga heard her congratulate him as she moved through the sea of people before landing in the arms of a man that was close to her mother.

“...such a beautiful bride. People will talk for years to come. You must be satisfied.”

Walburga’s heart filled with warmth. She worked hard for tonight and was glad she could stay focused on being poised and graceful all night; careful to not trip during the dances. Walburga focused her grey eyes on her mother to listen on what she was going to say. She waited all night to hear a good thing from the person who gave her life. All she wanted was approval. To make her mother proud by being the best lady. It seemed all throughout childhood her mother nagged on her for not being the best. Finally she could be accepted!

“That girl is a lost cause!” Her mother bit out at William. Irma’s face twisted into a sneer as she gripped her wine glass tight. “No grace, frighteningly terrifying, always muddying her dresses and chasing after her brothers! I should curse her to having a son just like Alphard with mannerisms like her so she at least knows the pain I went through! Months of work and she still can’t sit upright, walk poised, or stand with dignity! Forgets proper etiquette and table manners! Was troublesome until she went off to Hogwarts, I was glad to be rid of her! Now she’s off troubling someone else and for that I couldn’t be happier!”

Walburga felt like someone had just stabbed her in the heart.

William bowed down and kissed Irma’s hand. “I am all the more impressed by what you have achieved.”

Her mother smiled sweetly. “Thank you dear, I do what I can. No matter how ungrateful that little brat can be.” Irma ended bitterly.

Walburga thought that her mother. No, Irma. Had always put family first, no matter what.

Toujor Pur, after all.

It was like something had lifted and now all that stood before her was a wicked bitter hag full of jealousy.

I don't need her after all.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered to the man, biting back her tears as she let go. “Thank you, but I-I can’t, can’t be here right now.” She hiked up her dress and fled the ballroom. Toujour Por meant something to her.

I will teach the true meaning behind being pure, keeping the family pure, having magic coursing in our veins, Dark Arts, and family first always- no matter what! None of this behaviour my mother engages in any longer!

***

A few years later Walburga fell pregnant. All she wished for was to give her husband a healthy son to be their heir to stop the gossip, ridicule, and outcasting on how people noticed how hard it was on her. How they thought she actually could not fit the role. Her wishes had not come true. Her first pregnancy had been twin girls; Syfrin Ophelia - later to be Sirius Orion - and Rosier Azalea II. However, she had some faith to her first born...

Walburga held her daughters close to her as Orion stood beside her. "No heir, yet, Camelia."

"Syfrin is a boy."

"That is clearly a girl. Well, Camelia?" Orion started, taking their first-born in his arms. "What odd things run in our family?"

Walburga smiled. "I am not sure, why?"

Within two years, she had two more kids. One boy; Alastair Rigel, later to become Alice Fleur. One girl; Regina Adelene, later to be Regulus Arcturus. All four of them tested her nerves just as much as the first four. She never got a full night’s rest again, but she never lost her patience.

Syfrin/Sirius was lively, clumsy, challenging, and loud like Bellatrix, Rosier, and Alastair/Alice where as Regina/Regulus was patient, quiet, obedient, and carefree like Andromeda, Pandora, and Narcissa.

It was too much; her brothers drank themselves to death, Alphard disowned for being gay, Cygnus only having kids because of their family and then her having to adopt them. People within their circle ridiculed them because there were no boys and that Cygnus murdered Druella just hours after Pandora and Narcissa’s birth. They then ridiculed her for having no suitable heir and taking in his daughters.

As her children grew, she repeated ‘Toujour Pur’ and provided constant reminders that muggles were mud-bloods and they were to stay away from them for they were filthy. Walburga would tell them the world was hurtful and cruel. That family came first always.

Her first-born never seemed to understand. They pestered and tested Walburga with inappropriate questions. They seemed unable to sit in a chair right, refused to sit up straight or hold a fork correctly and ate everything with their hands. No matter what Walburga did; this kid was just as clumsy as she used to be. They were a challenge.

She would never hit, she would never yell. Before she lost her temper, she would walk away then come back and talk to her kids about the problem and what she expected. She promised herself she would never become her mother. She would cry herself to sleep at night thinking Syfrin/Sirius would never pick up on her teachings. She was afraid Regulus would follow in their footsteps even though he was currently following hers. Her adopted daughters also did better than Sirius.

*1971

Walburga was glad when she sent Sirius and Rosier off to Hogwarts. Their prefects could finally show them the right way. Andromeda, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Pandora would be there for a few years and they would listen to them. When the first owls arrived from Bellatrix, that is when Walburga knew something was up.

Orion stood beside her, sipping his wine. Watching as she picked up the letter. Her hands shook as she looked at Bellatrix's handwriting.

Everything she had built, everything she had taught him… it all went up in ashes.

Walburga slammed the letter down as she stormed off to the kitchen.

“Not a word.” She said sternly at the cooks as she approached the cupboards and retrieved the plates. She took them to the cellar where she smashed them against the grey brick wall until there weren’t any left. As she looked at the damage, she sank to her knees and screamed with tears streaming down her face.

Walburga wanted to die, or even murder her daughters when they were born. All they had done since they conceived them was make her life burdensome and painful. Ever since the day they were born, they were a traitors to the bloodline. She was ashamed they were even hers. They had sorted her son and only chance of a good male heir into Gryffindor.

Walburga saw it was coming.

She had one chance left to make things right; Regina.

Her youngest. Obedient, calm, collected, and poised. Never clumsy, boisterous, or rude. A proud Slytherin. Top marks in Dark Arts. She even became a Death Eater after Bellatrix. She understood it was pro-muggle activism keeping knowledge from proper witches and wizards and supported it. Regina never disappointed her even though she was not a suitable heir. She could give a suitable heir, though. Walburga still worried when she hung with her sisters and continued to look up to them.

*1976 September

It was another Summer with the kids home from Hogwarts. Walburga dreaded going to the ball with her dysfunctional family but she couldn’t afford to stay away.

Where Regina/Regulus accepted dance requests and focused on finding a suitable heir, Sirius had not and smoked cigarettes in a corner.

Regina/Regulus had worn a black sparkling ball gown despite the arguing that had followed when Walburga presented it to her; "Why won't you wear this dress?" Walburga asked, hands on her hips as she stood in the middle of Regina's room. Regina/Regulus shrugged. "I do not feel comfortable with them, mother." Walburga folded her arms. "I have come to terms that you are not a suitable heir but that you can give me one, and now you are telling me you would rather wear a suit over a dress? Do not tell me you are like your sister and want to be a man!" Regina/Regulus hung her head, toying with the tulle fabric of the ball gowns skirt. In the end, Walburga won. Whereas Sirius wore a suit with a leather jacket. Which had also ended in a fight. She wasn’t even trying to look for a dance partner or suitable future husband. People made jokes that she was a wizard interested in wizards or even a witch interested in witches. *sometimes they could not tell which gender Sirius wanted to be* Walburga knew who her friends were though; mudbloods and traitors. She didn’t even try to keep his interests or relations with all those harlots and men a secret. For reasons unknown to her, she had recently just stopped doing that in the past year.

I need answers.

Because of her children, Walburga was an outcast. No one talked to her. It forced her to interact with the only people she could; her brothers and her husband. That is where she currently stood, with her family, waving away her brother’s smoke clouds as she tried her hardest to ignore the nausea that clawed at her throat as her husband and brother just kept drinking.

She knew the three of them were trying to forget about Syfrin/Sirius.

Alphard, however, was not. He was proud of Sirius for being himself and acting like him; looking up to the "cool" Uncle.

Walburga had hated her brother ever since the day she had dug into him before he had left her house…

FLASHBACK 1961

Walburga was holding two month old Regina/Regulus as she stormed downstairs to the servants’ quarters where her brother slept in the extra room spending his days drowning in whiskey, smoke, and stupid muggle painting.

“I will not have my children raised around a smoker! What is all this?!” She gestured to his canvases and paintings, kicking one down and stomping on it. “I want you out of this house by sundown! You don’t belong here anymore, you fag! My son does not need this kind of influence! He will marry a weathful, beautiful, young dame and give us wonderful heirs for years to come! In order for that, you must leave!”

“I will still be at the dances and family gatherings as mother insisted when she disowned me and sent me to you, but fine! I’ll leave this bloody house for all I fucking care! Have fun raising eight kids on your own!”

END FLASHBACK

When Alphard glanced at Sirius, it ignited something in Walburga. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off to a nearby powder room. She threw out the girls giggling inside and locked them out before putting up a silencing charm and glared at her brother.

“Have you been seeing my daughter!?” Walburga seethed, crossing her arms.

Alphard took another drag.

She pulled it from his hand, throwing it in the ashtray before pushing her brother toward the counter with her hands around his neck.

He winced as she pushed him further into the countertop; the smooth edges pushing painfully against his spine. Alphard watched her eyes turn almost black. There was no more grey colouring or happiness in Walburga. She had turned cold, like their mother. There was no turning back from that for a Black…

Once you go black, you never go back.

“I will ask again.” She growled. “Have… you… been… visiting… my… child?!”

“They have been coming to me.” Alphard choked out. His throat was on fire and his wrists were hurting from squeezing the counter. “They had questions.” He choked out. “I answered.” She squeezed tighter. His vision blurred. “Stop!”

Orion ran in and yanked her backwards. “Honey, stop!” He yelled, squeezing his hands into her shoulders. “You are going to kill somebody!”

Walburga shoved Orion away. “What do you fucking care?! You are just drinking away your life with my brother, ignoring your children like always! I’m stuck taking care of eight kids, one of which wants nothing to do with our family and our traditions!” She grabbed her husband’s wrists, her voice gone dark as she spoke her next words. “You do anything you can to stop her from burrowing further into this rabbit hole of hers!”

“You have been making him hurt your son already! He has bruises, scars, and told me a complete list of spells yo-”

“SHUT UP!” Walburga screamed, slapping her brother. “YOU did this to her! I told you to stay away from her, no matter how persistent she got!”

“He is fifteen!” Alphard argued.

“AND DOING EVERYTHING YOU AND CYGNUS DID WHEN YOU TWO WERE YOUNGER!” Walburga screamed even louder. Alphard was right… Walburga was too far gone now. “She is a disgrace. An outcast, a traitor, a freak! I should have just killed all of them.” She glared at her husband. “I am taking the children home.”

*nine at night*

Walburga was quiet the rest of the evening as she dragged her children home.

Sirius was laughing, Regina was glaring at him, and Bellatrix was complaining.

Why is this my life?

Once they got home Regina/Regulus went up to bed, the girls went outside to giggle about boys. Walburga grabbed her wand and aimed it at Sirius’ back.

Petrificus Totalus!

“You are the worst thing that has ever happened in my life!” She circled her then gripped her chin and tilted it up so their grey eyes met. “Your father has done enough, it’s my turn! I cannot save it any longer, I-” she swallowed thickly.

Say it, you cannot stand loving someone like this anymore. He is not your son. Never has been. Sirius stared at her as she tripped over her words.

Her leather jacket angered her, the long hair she insisted on wearing as a boy, his tattoos she knew she had *very unladylike*, her piercings, her “friends”, her choice in being Sirius over Syfrin, ending up in Gryffindor and being portrayed as a boy by the castle, teachers, and students. She slapped Sirius after letting go of their face.

“I hate you.” She spit it out; literally.

Walburga grabbed the broom from the kitchen and went back to the entrance between kitchen and living room. Her heart pounded, ached in her chest, she did not want to do this to her baby but she had hurt her. She needed to be shown not from her father how much pain she put to her mother, but by Walburga herself… the person she hurt.

“I hate you.” She repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

She could not take it anymore. Sixteen years of humiliation, pain, disobedience, talking back, shouting, screaming, yelling, smashed family heirlooms and antiques, broken books, smashed walls, knives through the tables and walls, fork marks in the table. Walburga’s blood ran cold as she brought the broom up and brought it down hard on her child.

Sirius fell to her knees, biting her tongue to keep from screaming out. Walburga picked her up from under her armpits and brought the broom down on her back once more. “I hate you, you are a disgrace!”

“A faggot like your bastard Uncle!” The broom came down on Sirius' shoulder blade with a deafening crack.

“Hanging out with Mudbloods!” Walburga swung the broom again.

“How dare the fates let you become a bloody Gryffindor! You can have suitable heirs as a girl!” She hit Sirius with the broom three more times with the last sentence.

Again and again, the broom came down on her child. With every hit, Sirius winced. Sirius had disrespected her with everything she was. Walburga had done her best to never hit or yell. She now had enough and could not take it anymore. She poured all her anger and disappointment out on her child. The one person who should have been her heir!

“I hate you! Is that through your skull yet?!” She screamed, pointing her wand at Sirius. “Crucio!” Sirius arched her back, screaming vociferously. Walburga could feel the strength grow within her as she punished her kid.

She struck again… her neck, her hands. Walburga smiled as she watched Syfrin draw away from the sting as she trembled. Walburga could only guess it was from the crying.

She grabbed his long curly hair and pulled her head back to meet her dark eyes. “I… hate… you…” Walburga seethed.

Sirius squeezed her eyes shut, warm tears trailing down her face.

Walburga smiled the Black lineage smile as she threw her forwards at the coffee table.

Sirius' body landed on the top of the table with a hard thud and a pained moan.

“For so long I have had to deal with you… keep up with you… I had your father do my dirty work because I could not go through with it but I have had quite enough! You simply could not have told how much I hated you through your father, but you figured out how much he hated you. It is my turn. You needed to see how much I truly detested you and I did it all in one go.”

Images of all the times Syfrin acted out, disobeyed, stumbled, fallen, talked back. It fuelled her anger. Syfrin deserve no one… not those friends… not her sisters… nor whoever she was seeing.

“You deserve no one!” She continued beating and cursing at her child until she was tired. Walburga had been waiting to punish them. Now that she was finally doing it, she felt like she couldn’t stop.

Walburga watched her daughter turned potential heir turned to a disgrace weep on the table. Blood seeped through her clothing and onto the floor.

I’ll deal with that later.

Her long hair had become plastered to her sweaty tear-stained face. For the first time in sixteen years, Walburga felt content.

“You can drown in your misery for all I care. Just get up to bed before your father gets home or you will deal with him as well. Might as well stay there so he can do more damage anyway, you deserve it.”

She leant over Sirius as the front door opened.

“Too late.”

Walburga gripped her daughter's hair, pulling at the nape of her neck.

“Did I say you are a faggot? I found letters from your so-called friend. Everything you are doing and have done is amoral! You have always been an outcast, a blood traitor, and disowned. You haven’t been my son for years.”

She looked up to find Orion looming over them. He had heard everything she just said.

Sirius whined as she tried moving away but Walburga pulled her up by her elbows and held her back against her own body. “I’m going to enjoy watching your drunk father do the same things I just did to you.” She growled into Sirius' ear.

*eleven thirty*

Sirius climbed the stairs in weak agony.

His parents were downstairs cleaning up the blood, the evidence, and the smashed plates from earlier.

His sisters had gone up to bed through the basement cellar to avoid the scenery of him getting beaten.

He stood on shaking legs in front of the bathroom mirror, locked inside until he left.

Sirius inspected himself; his left eye was purple and swollen, his lips had cuts and dried blood, some blood was still coming out of his mouth, his hands were bleeding, his back was killing him.

His father had beat him harder than he had in the past. Sirius had two assumptions; he was drunker than usual… or, since his mother had not given his father any instructions, then he had done what he wanted to do.

Sirius hung his head and gripped the porcelain sink as more tears escaped his body. How he even deserved this he hadn’t known. Who was he to stop himself from being clumsy, gay, a boy ninety percent of the time, or uninterested in dark magic?! It was who he was!

Without even looking up, he brought his fist up and smashed the mirror to bits. He spun on his heels and punched the wall above the toilet paper holder; leaving a vast hole in the plaster and wallpaper. It left him feeling elated.

He took out his pocket knife from his slacks and added a few more cuts to his wrists before pocketing it again. Sirius became nauseous and threw himself over the toilet where he threw up blood, his dinner, and some bile. He growled as he flushed it down.

About twenty minutes later, he went to his youngest siblings room. He knocked on the door as he entered. Regulus ran up to their brother and wrapped their arms tightly around his middle. Sirius hugged Regulus tight, kissing their head.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered.

“I love you, too.” Regulus replied. “But you can’t leave.”

“I have to! Did you not hear what was going on downstairs?!” Sirius yelled, gesturing to the staircase outside the room leading to the living room he just left. “Do you not see the condition my body is in?!” He gestured to himself.

“YOU FUCKING PROMISED! YOU WERE THERE TO PROTECT ME!” Regulus had hot tears stinging their grey eyes. “You should not have come in. You should have just left!”

“I wanted to say something before I left.”

“Bullshit.” Regulus growled, grabbing a photo album and throwing it at Sirius’ head. Sirius ducked. “You promised! All you do is hurt us!”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “It's not me.” He choked out, the last thing he wanted was for his brother to hate him.

“NO!” Regulus yelled, punching the wall beside Sirius’ head, baring their teeth. “If you want to leave, then leave!” They whispered through their teeth. Regulus' body shook with adrenaline.

Sirius watched Regulus’ cheeks turn from pink to a burning red. Their sad grey eyes were like daggers to his heart, much more so than his mothers. He had been close to his brother. Sirius shoved Regulus away, causing the youngest heir to stumble back.

“FINE!” Sirius growled through clenched teeth. “I thought I could protect you and get you to follow me.”

“They need me!” Regulus whispered, grey eyes searching the grey carpet below them.

“You do not have to do this. Just tell them.” Sirius pleaded. Regulus glared up at him. Sirius nodded. “Alright. Do not tell me I didn’t try. I love you.” He turned out into the hallway and headed to his room as his heart shattered. No one in this house loved him anymore, so he would just go to someone who did.

“I love you. I’m sorry.” Regulus whispered after him.

Sirius heard them.

***midnight***

Walburga sat happily at the table in the sitting room. Humming, she stirred her tea with a small silver spoon and ignored the loud noises from upstairs. Walburga didn’t care about what was going on. If there was damage, she would have someone fix it later. She knew Saiph would outlash at his punishments. Someone trampled down the stairs. Bumping against something every few moments.

“I’m leaving,” Sirius barked, “And you will not be seeing me anymore. I will not be coming back.”

“I would not want you back anyway.”

Walburga didn’t bother getting up. She sat and watched her son/daughter as he stormed out the front doors. With the slam of the front door, everything felt lighter. It should not have felt nice but it had. Sirius was a Gryffindor, he always had been. He never fit in with their Slytherin house, their Dark Arts, the Death Eaters. That was Regina's job.

Walburga was confused when she heard someone else come running. She stood and entered the living room. “Regina.” She said calmly. Regulus stopped in his tracks, looking up at his mother. “She disappointed us. You know that, right?”

Regulus nodded. “But-”

“You will not disappoint us too, Regina. Got it?” Walburga warned.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Regulus/Regina answered sadly. Walburga didn’t catch her tone as she was too busy pulling out her wand and changing the wards.

“She is an ungrateful brat. I did my best, she still had not listened. Then Hogwarts went and sorted her into the wrong house!” She whirled on Regina, taking wide steps until she gripped her chin, locking their eyes together. “You are still focused on finding a suitable heir, yes?”

Regulus/Regina nodded. Though she was just fourteen, she knew how important marrying wealthy pure-blood men was to her mother. She just could not help how he felt towards a certain someone at Hogwarts or how he felt to his own body. She needed to be on her mother’s good side, no matter how hard it got at times. She could have her fun without her finding out, do her duties as a Death Eater on the side, and still have everything be completely alright when she graduates.

Right?

“I know how much it means to you that this family stays together, but unfortunately Syfrin had other plans.” Walburga would see to it that she would not suffer from her older sisters. She would be seen as the one and only suitable heiress of the House of Black who would hopefully bring up suitable heirs in the future.

Regulus followed her to the tapestry and watched as she pointed her wand at Sirius' name; in which the tapestry and every pure-blood paper had re-wrote istelf to suit who Sirius was when he changed who he was in the family. Regulus intended to do that someday as he watched an intense beam come from Walburga's wand.

With satisfaction, Walburga watched the name of what she thought to be her last rotten spawn become burnt off the family tree.

**1977**

Walburga took a trip to Hogsmeade a week after the kids had gone back to school. She did her best to keep herself out of sight from prying eyes as people would surely talk. She had just wanted to see if she could spot Regulus having a bit of enjoyment for once before she headed to Knockturn Alley to find the ingredients she needed to ward the house from Boggarts and Dementors once again.

She had found Regina/Regulus just moments before she turned toward the alley.

Her blood boiled.

She was with her brother, laughing at whatever Potter was saying! Walburga pulled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

How dare she!

Yet she could not do anything for fear of exposing herself.

Moving on from her disgrace of children, she turned toward Knockturn Alley and right into ‘Cobb & Webb’s’ where she had bumped into…

“Peter?” She questioned. His blue eyes darted around the alley.

What is a sixteen year old doing down here? Isn’t this one of Sirius’ friends?

“Why are you here?”

“I, uh, I’m…” he stuttered. “Sirius doesn’t know.”

“Death Eater, are you?” Walburga thought aloud. Peter nodded.

Why in the whole bloody world did Syfrin become friends with the shyest, drawn-back people? SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN A SLYTHERIN! At least she would have proper friends that…

Walburga stopped herself and looked at the timid Pettigrew with a sinister smile. She pulled them off to the side and sat him on a bench.

“What are they having you do?”

*1978*

When Regina/Regulus was eighteen, the house became empty and quiet.

Walburga had not heard from her baby in weeks.

She had gotten no letters from her about how Hogwarts was going.

No letters from the Death Eater headquarters.

Walburga had waited for Regina to return for months but she knew by now that she was dead.

The tapestry gave it away.

Regina had been a good girl, she did not deserve the cold hands of death.

*1981*

Now here Walburga was, getting ready for the trial of her firstborn.

She had not seen Syfrin in five years. Walburga refused to attend her wedding to Remus Lupin; the monster, the tainted half-blood. He was just another faggot to deal with. She hated that Sirius had the ability to conceive and bear a daughter with that monster. It left a bitter taste in her mouth that he had even considered the blood-traitor and the mudblood half-blood girl as the child’s Uncle and Aunt alongside her brother. She destroyed Sirius' room when Regulus had become a Godfather to those two’s tainted spawn.

Walburga sensed deep inside she was not getting the full story… that someone was lying to her. If she found out that one of her children lied to her, they would feel her wrath. She could handle punishing Syfrin again, but punishing Regina or Narcissa would crush her spirit even more than it had five years ago when she hurt her eldest son. Narcissa and Regina were the ones who followed their footsteps religiously. Cygnus and some boy named Tom had caused Bellatrix to become too far gone. Andromeda went and married a mudblood Hufflepuff; getting herself disowned.

Entering the courtroom, Walburga sat in the front row. She needed to see everything. A sinister smile crept onto her face as she muttered spells that made them not hear Sirius' cries, as well as whatever she said turn to lies. They deserved this. She had murdered her friends in cold blood and that monster of a husband hated them. Peter was out of the picture, her friends were dead, Remus was hated, outcast, and alone. As soon as Sirius was behind bars in Azkaban,

Walburga was free.

Two Aurors dragged Syfrin/Sirius into the courtroom.

It had only been a few months since she had been arrested and time was not nice to her. Walburga could tell she had not slept, that she had been crying and inflicting pain on himself. It made Walburga happy.

If you had just been in Slytherin, none of this would be happening.

Sirius struggled against the restraints, growling menacingly at the Aurors as they struggled to get him in more restraints. He screamed as they threw Crucio spells at him. “I did not do it! It was not me! Are any of you daft bastards listening to me?! You are all full of bullshit and this is fucking… you all need to burn in fucking hell!”

I used to wash your mouth out with soap for that mouth of yours. Can’t believe someone actually kisses your ashtray, liquor filled, vile mouth and those kids of yours are not terrified of their so called parent; a drunk, smoke and drug addicted, vile parent.

Walburga sat there smirking, her eyes trained on her screaming traitor daughter.

Her cries fell on mute ears.

No one was listening.

She put this on himself.

The more she struggled, the happier Walburga was.

He abandoned his families, his brothers, his friends, lovers, and more.

There truly was no one on her side…

There never had been.

The Wizengamont found Sirius guilty and he was dragged out of the courtroom screaming vile curses and laughing maniacally.

Even if you had complied nicely in a calm manner… impossible in this family… they still would have hauled you off. Glad to be rid of you.

Walburga was still smiling as she got home.

It was unsettlingly quiet with all her children gone, her husband, heiress, and brother dead, and her other brother living off on his own. She put her veiled hat down on her bed.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw something that made her skin crawl.

It could not be real…She despised her! Everything about her mother made her skin crawl and her blood boil.

I refused to turn into her! I did everything in my power to be different!

She turned slowly towards the mirror on her vanity dresser pushed toward the far end of the room.

“No.” She whispered.

She approached the mirror slowly, locking eyes with her own reflection. “No.” She repeated, shaking her head. “No, no, no, no!” She was smiling back at herself with the same malicious smile her mother had when she had beaten her. The smile she knew was plastered on her face when she beat her first-born. She screamed as she punched the mirror; shards of glass rained down on her, the vanity, and the green carpet below.

Walburga found herself on her knees screaming through her tears. She blindly reached for her wand, finding it on her vanity in a pile of glass. She let the shards cut her as she picked up her wand and herself then stormed off to Sirius’ room.

She kicked his door open then stood staring at his destroyed Gryffindor decorated room for a moment. Walburga could feel the tears flowing down her cheeks as she ripped photos of Sirius’ friends and himself off the walls…

“TRAITOR!” She screamed.

She tore posters and banners down, destroyed his bed further and wiped all the makeup and ink pots off his vanity. She ripped his clothes from his closet, wanting to burn the dresses he had stolen from his sisters.

“Faggot.” She growled, storming off to Regulus' bedroom.

Her heart shattered when she opened the door to her youngests' room. There was nothing out of place in the room and everything was neatly in its place, yet there was a weird feeling emitting off the walls of the room. Regulus had kept everything straight and tidy, but something still felt off. Walburga tore through the room as the front doors slammed open. Walburga looked up from where she knelt on her daughter's floor.

“Dementors.” She whispered to herself. Walburga shook her head and continued searching through her child's clothes, journals, and closet. She pried open a hide-away door that hadn’t been shut all the way.

“Lumos.”

Her heart broke.

“Alphard!” She growled.

She stood up from the small painting room Regina/Regulus had made, coming face to face with a painting that was full of emotion. It was gold, green, silver, and orange with streaks of black weaving through the colours.

“No.” She whispered, thinking back to her daughter smiling at James in the pub.

She backed up into her hanging suits. A Gryffindor tie fell from one of the hangers. ‘J.P’ was embroidered on the bottom. She picked it up in shaking hands as she bit her bottom lip. Tears threatened to spill. She could hear the Dementors and Death Eaters below tear through her house but she did not care anymore.

Walburga let the tie slip from her hands as she exited the closet and fell to Regulus’ bed in body wracking sobs.

“When did this happen?” She asked herself as her muscles tensed and her body became numb.

No one heard from Walburga Black after the trial.

Dementors and Death Eaters raiding her house for the locket was all over the newspapers.

They had killed her…

Karma killed her.

***

read here

Feel free to comment your thoughts or questions! I am sorry if it does not make a lot of sense or things are confusing, I just wrote what felt right. Hopefully future chapters will help connect some puzzles.

(Updates might be slow and out of place... bear with me, I work an overnight job)

Next up? Lyall Lupin and Hope Howell.

#marauders era #walburga black #sirius black #sirius azkaban #sirius x lupin #regulus black #remus x sirius

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writefandoms · 4 years ago

Note

Hiiiii could i please request smut prompts 36 and 97 with Joseph from JJBA? These seem perfect for him lmao

Is it weird that I like old Joseph more than young Joseph... I added prompt 96 as a bonus! Enjoy❤️

Prompts: #36. “If you insist.” & #97. “Stop distracting me.”

Bonus: 96. “You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?”

Warning: NSFW, Contains light bondage and sub/dom undertones

Summary: You want to spice things up in the bedroom, asking Joseph to use his Stand in a very unconventional way.

Word Count: 1.2k

Bondage Purple

Joseph Joestar x Female!Reader

You knew he was a busy man. He’s Joseph Joestar for Christ sake. But you’re a simple woman, with simple needs. And even though he was old enough to be your grandfather, the man knew how to satisfy those needs.

He was currently scribbling away, struggling to finish a piling of paperwork on his desk. Even though he’s at home often, he always brings a stack of forms or something to fill out. And of course, being Joseph, he leaves it all for the night before it’s due.

Walking into the dimly lit room, you tip toe closer to try and scare him. Before you can grab his shoulder, Joseph whips around making you scream.

Joestar starts laughing loudly, tears forming in his eyes, “You should of seen you face!”

You pout and cross your arms, “Not funny.” He calms down his laughing and pushes his seat out.

Patting his lap, you plop down onto him. Sitting almost on his knees with your arms still folded.

“Hey, I’m sorry sweetheart.” His breath feels hot on your neck, “What can I do to make it up to you.”

“I can think of a few things.” You say coyly, peeking at him over your shoulder.

“Oh really?” He grins widely, devious glint in his blue eyes.

Pushing off of his lap, you make sure to grind into his crotch. Hearing his mechanical hand start clicking makes you giddy. He can only control himself for so long, and you have something new you’d like to try tonight.

Crawling onto the bed on your hands on knees, it takes Joseph no more than a second to follow behind you. He stumbles a hit kicking off his shoes, grumbling about the carpeting being too thick or something.

He jumps into bed making you a bounce a bit. He’s grinning widely at you sitting in front of him. Wrapping his arms around you, Joseph pulls you close and kisses you deeply.

The kiss ends quickly though as his rough lips travel down your neck, occasionally sucking or nipping at your skin. He skillfully unbuttons your shirt, exposing your bra.

“Wait. Wait.” You moan out, trying to pull away from the pleasure.

Looking concerned he pulls back, “What’s wrong, honey? Did I hurt you?” It was always so sweet how much he cared about you. Even with a massive hard on he still put your needs first.

“No. No, I just wanna try something new tonight.”

“Okay” he pauses, the gears in his head moving, “Like what?”

“Like bondage.” You state flatly. It’s nothing to crazy.

It’s just that Joseph is always so sweet and caring during sex. And you loved it, but you wouldn’t mind him being a little rough with you. Just imagining being held under his large form is making you wet.

“Oh! Okay that’s an easy one. I think I saw some rope in the kitchen-“ you cup his face pulling him closer.

“I don’t wanna use rope.”

Looking completely lost he asks, “Is there some new form of bondage I don’t know about.” Lost in his own thoughts he mumbles to himself, “Maybe I am getting a bit out of touch.”

Pull him closer, you lean to whisper in his ear, “I want you to use Hermit Purple.”

His loud gasp in your wasn’t pleasant, making you pull back and rub you ringing ear.

“Isn’t that...kind of dangerous?” His question makes you scoff.

“Is Joseph Joestar getting soft on me?” Your question was meant to wound his ego and confidence, but you knew he would never hurt you.

It did the trick as Joesph pushed you flat on your back. “Don’t get all pouty in the morning when your wrist are sore.”

“Oh, I will” you smirk up at him, making him chuckle.

Pulling your shirt off your shoulders and in clipping your bra with expertise, throwing it off the bed. The cold on your exposed nipples makes you squirm.

Hands struggling to pry off his clothes, you both pause for a moment to undress to your underwear. Joseph’s cute heart boxers make you giggle.

He glares and wraps his lips around your left nipple, pinching your right between his metal fingers. Moaning at the stark contrast of the two on your sensitive breast.

“Joseph...” your moans only egged him on, making him suck harder.

Pulling back he grabs your hands, pulling them together above your head. You’re not a stand user, so you can’t see the thin purple vines that slowly creep towards you.

An invisible forced wraps around your wrists. It freaked you out a first, when he explained the whole Stands thing. But you were starting to warm up to the idea.

When you vines stop moving you peek upward at your wrist, even though you couldn’t see anything you can tell they’re very loose.

“You alright there, Joestar?” You ask looking at his straining face.

“Yeah...” He grumbles, letting out a low groan.

Peeking down you see his erection straining hard against his boxers. Piecing it together, you let out a loud laugh.

“Are you seriously that horny, that you’re having trouble controlling your Stand?” You can’t stop the loud laugh that followed.

“Shut up. Stop distracting me.” Joseph snaps at you, shifting his hip away from you.

Raising your thigh upwards to rub against his hard on makes him drop his head low, his groan louder this time.

Shooting back up he glares at you, “Stop it! I just need to concentrate.”

“Whatever you say.” Winking at him and lowering your leg, he takes a breath. The force arounds your wrist begins to move again. This time stopping only when your wrist were tightly bound together.

Joseph pushes himself up, so he’s sitting on his knees in front of you. Your legs underneath his spread ones.

The feeling of being bound and under someone like Joseph Joestar is one of pure lust. A wave of heat travels through your body, your panties dampening at the thought of what he’ll do to you. His large, bare chest, makes you wanna lean up leave bite marks all over.

The look on Joseph’s face wasn’t one you wanted to see while you were desperate to be touched. He had an evil glint in his eye as he peered down at your almost fully naked form.

Chuckling, he scratches his beard in thought, “You know,” he grins widely, “You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?”

You couldn’t even slap him for that god awful pun. Only able to roll you eyes as he laughed loudly. When he kept laughing, you brought your leg up again and rubbed his erection.

Immediately his laughter was replaced by a low moan and grabs your leg, pushing it back down.

“I’m the one in control tonight, sweetie. So you’re gonna have to beg a bit.”

Huffing you turn your head to the side, feeling the embarrassment creep on your face.

Mumbling something under your breath, Joesph leans down with his hand cupping his ear.

“Huuuh? What was that?” he asked obnoxiously, a grin still on his stupid handsome face.

“Joseph Joestar, will you just fuck me already!” Squeezing your eyes shut, you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

It wasn’t even a second before you feel your panties getting yanked down your leg.

Something hard pushes at your wet entrance, and your back arches as it pushes into you.

“Oh god... fuck me....” your body shakes with pleasure as moans tumble out of your lips.

Joseph holds your thighs open, bent over each of his large arms. Leaning down to kiss you gently, hot breath on your ear saying, “If you insist.”

Before he thrusts fully into you, bed frame slamming into the wall.

#x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo imagines #jjba #joseph joestar #jojo stardust crusaders #joseph joestar x reader #joestar #nsft #smut #jjba fanfic #fanfic

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atlafan · 5 years ago

Text

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-One

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

a/n: i’m baaaaaccckkkk. mama came home from vacation. she’s still tired, but she missed her babies too much to stay away. niall and sarah did a great job babysitting. let’s gooooooooooo

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

…a week or so later…

Harry was sleeping peacefully on his back with you resting your head on his chest. One of your legs was over his and you had an arm draped over his lower stomach. He woke up to the feeling of something wet on his thigh. It took him a second, but he swore he could feel you moving back and forth on him. He looked down to see your eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted. There were beads of sweat on your brow-line.

You were dreaming. You were having a steamy dream of you and Harry. You were riding him out in an open field of sunflowers. Your hair was flowing in the wind, and he wouldn’t stop telling you how beautiful you were.

When you gasp, Harry fully wakes up. He didn’t want to wake you, but he did want to have some fun with you. He raises his thigh slightly to add a little more pressure for you. He wanted to give you a little more friction. He wiggles his thigh from side to side as you continue to grind on him in your sleep.

“Harry.” You moan. He always wondered if you dreamt about him. He always had a hunch, but the small bit of confirmation was delightful.

His cock grows harder as you move faster on him. Your hand moves to grip at his throat and you squeeze it, causing him to choke slightly.

“Jesus.” He coughs, and you wake up immediately.

“Wh, what’s happening?!” You spring up and feel the wetness from your center stick against him. “Ew, oh my god, I’m so sorry, what was I doing?”

“You were…” He coughs again, you really grabbed his throat hard. “Grindin’ against my thigh. I was tryin’ to help yeh along, but you grabbed my throat and started choakin’ me. What were you dreamin’ about?”

“I was…um…riding you.” You rub your eyes.

“And did you choke me in your dream?”

“I…don’t remember.”

“Liar.” He smirks. “It’s okay, wanna choke me?”

“Harry, stop.”

“You’ve gripped my throat before, wanna do it a little harder? S’okay, if you do.”

“Harry, it’s like two in the morning.”

“Yeah?” He reaches between your legs to collect some of your wetness, and brings it up to his face. “Seems like you’re a little riled up. Let’s fix that, hm?” He sucks his fingers into his mouth then pulls you on top of him. “Got hard while you were goin’ to town on me.”

“We ran out of condoms.”

“Take your pill yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Gonna take it in a few hours?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then baby girl, nothin’ to worry about.” He kisses you tenderly.

“Fuck it, okay.”

You raise your hips and slide down on him.

“Holy shit!” Both of your eye brows raise at his exclamation. Harry would moan and groan, but in the almost eight months you had been together you had never heard him yell in such pleasure. “Haven’t fully felt yeh in so long.” You smirk at him.

You raise and lower yourself on him and his hands move to your hips to help you get a rhythm that suits the both of you. The way you were grinding on him brought you right back o the euphoric state you had while dreaming.

“Go ahead, angel, wrap that pretty little hand around me.”

You kiss him first and then slide your hand up to his throat. Did Harry like being choked, or did he just like that you wanted to do it to him? Your thumb brushes over his adam’s apple, and then you apply a little more pressure. He groans as he thrusts up into you, and your head rolls back. It felt so good to feel him without the barrier of the condom.

You weren’t grabbing him as hard as you had grabbed him while you were sleeping, he figured you just felt shy now and he wasn’t going to push you. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love when you were a little more dominant. His sweet baby girl liked to be rough, and it drove him crazy.

One of his hands dips between the two of you to rub your clit and that’s when you’re your grip tightens around him. You didn’t stop to think your fingers might leave lsting bruises, you were so far gone you couldn’t think about anything. He nearly gasps from the pressure on his throat, but he can handle it. He’d do anything to be able to see you the way you are now. Totally lost in pure ecstasy.

“Harry.” You groan. He feels you pulsate around him and he knows you’re close.

Another sharp thrust up into you and you come undone. You moan loudly and your voice cracks as he continues rubbing your clit as you get through your orgasm. Your grip on his throat loosens and you tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

“Will you, will you come on back?”

“Course.”

You lift off him and get on your stomach, lifting your ass in the air for him. He gives himself a few pumps before you feel his warmth all of over back and bum. You hear a few curse words leave his lips and then he sighs. He leans down to give you a kiss.

“Lemme get a rag, hang tight.”

Harry comes back a moment later with a warm rag to clean you up. You get up shortly after to use the toilet and then you return to him, spooning him and getting cozy.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” You whisper to him.

“Not at all, felt good. Do it anytime yeh want.”

You knew you’d be exhausted when you got up in a few hours for work, but this one of the many things you loved about having a boyfriend like Harry. You could wake up incredibly horny in the middle of the night, and he’d be right there to help take care of you.

Today was the first day you’d be starting your video chats with Mark to work on your big project. You weren’t looking forward to it in the slightest, but at least in another week or so you’d be in Aruba. Harry’s mum and sister decided to stay in the U.K. for Easter since they knew Harry would be really busy with work while you were gone. That just meant he’d be spending three weeks over there during the summer instead of two, not a big deal.

You were dreading the call with him. You made sure to wear a shirt with a high neckline so he’d have nothing to look at but your face. Niall came into your office with a deep frown.

“What’s up?”

“You’ll never who’s here…”

“No.”

“The three of ‘em…CEO is putting them up in a hotel so we can all work together in person. Said it would be more productive. They’re taking over the conference room as a shared office for the foreseeable future.”

“No!” You whine.

“We have to meet with them in ten minutes. Could be worse, at least you don’t have to share your office with him.”

“True.” You stand up and grab your laptop. “Can’t fucking wait for this all to be over and it hasn’t even started yet. Now I’m almost nervous about my vacation.”

“Don’t be, you’re leadin’ what you’re workin’ on. Leave a list of to do’s with me and I’ll make sure that’s all he does.”

“Thank you.”

You both walk out to the conference room. You see three men setting their things up. You wondered how they’d get anything done working in an open space, but you certainly weren’t going to question it. Your supervisor comes in and gives you all the run down for how things were going to work, when it’s over it’s around lunch, and Mark follows you down the hall to your office.

“Hey, I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite? It’ll give us more time to go over things, and –“ You both stop short when you see Harry standing in your office.

“Sorry, I already have lunch plans.” You close the door in his face. It was unprofessional, and a little rude, but you didn’t care.

“What’s he doin’ here?” He asks, wrapping his arms around you.

“They’re here for the foreseeable future. CEO thought it would be more efficient this way.” You roll your eyes. You look at him and kiss him. “Can we go for a walk or something, I need to clear my head.”

“Sure.” He smiles and kisses you again.

You go over to your desk and reach underneath for your sneakers and change your shoes. You give him a thumbs up and grab his hand as you leave the office. Niall shoots you both a smile and wave as you walk out.

“Were you tired this mornin’?”

“A little yeah…” You say blushing.

“Me too.” He walks with his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into him. “But it’s the best kind of tired, you know?”

“Mhm.” You kiss him on the cheek.

“So you’re gonna have to spend a lot of time with that guy?”

“Unfortunately.” You groan. “At least I leave soon so it’ll break it up.”

“I know Niall’s there, hell, I know you can take care of yourself, but I’m a phone call or text away if you need me.”

“Thanks doll.” You give the hand on your shoulder a little squeeze, and continue your walk.

That afternoon Mark was in your office for hours. You were both going over different techniques you used while editing.

“Well, I use Vegas so…”

“Well, you’re going to learn Premiere because that’s what I use.” You tell him. “In fact, you’re supposed to use the Adobe products here since they’re paid for already. It’s really easy to learn. There’s tons of tutorials online. I’m sure someone as smart as you can pick it up.” You say smugly.

“Okay.”

“I think we should put a schedule or some type of calendar together for this. We’re going to be sent certain clips each day, so we need to get them into the sequence ready to go.”

“Makes sense to me.” He looks over his notes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Does your boyfriend always visit for lunch?”

“That’s not really an appropriate question to ask me.”

“Come off it will you, we’re not robots.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Yes, he visits often, and sometimes I go to his work for lunch.”

“Right, he’s at Plant Geo?”

“Yes.” You look down then back to him. “Why do you care so much what I do with my personal time? We’re given an hour or so for lunch, and I’m allowed to do what I want during that time.”

“Never said you weren’t, I was just curious. Couple of the guys have girlfriends and they never see them during lunch. Usually too busy.”

“I use my time wisely during the work day. Plus, working through lunch is stupid, and doesn’t make you look better. It just shows poor time management if anything.”

“No, I just meant like they see them at home, ya know?”

“I see him at home too, we live together.”

“And you still visit during lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he, we miss each other during the day. And sometimes we both have late nights…we don’t meet up every day. When I don’t eat with him I eat with Niall.”

“Your ex?”

“I never dated him! I just told you I did because I wanted you to quit asking me to dance.”

“I was drunk.”

“No excuse. When someone tells you no, they should listen. You’re a good looking guy Mark, but you radiate douche-bag energy, and I’m just not here for it. So, while we’re working together I really would appreciate it if we didn’t talk about personal things. My goal at the end of this is to not have gained a new friend, okay?” His mouth was hanging open. No one had ever really talked to him like that before.

“Okay.”

That was that, and you get back to work. You notice the way he steals glances of you while you both work on your own computers, but you choose to ignore it. When you get home later Harry gives a relaxing back massage, knowing that you were stressed.

“You have magic hands, you know that?” You say as his thumbs press into your lower back as you both sit on the couch.

“I live to serve.” He jokes and you both laugh. “You’re so tense babe, full of knots. Maybe it’s time we get another massage together.”

“God that sounds amazing.” You sigh happily. “You know what would be relaxing too? Forever ago we talked about doing one of those wine and paint nights. That could be a really fun group date with everyone, don’t you think?”

“Yeah! Why don’t we see what everyone’s up to Friday night?”

“I’ll text in the group chat.”

Yes, the six of you had a group chat. Mariah was officially Rachel’s girlfriend now, and none of you saw her going anywhere anytime soon.

“Rachel should just teach the bloody class.” Harry chuckles. Your head rolls back as he works out a particular knot in your neck.

“Fuck.” You say. “Right there.” Your eyes screw shut as he applies a little more pressure.

“Poor thing.” He coos. “I should really buy some oil, give you a proper massage.”

“And get our things all gross?” You laugh. “This works just fine.”

Friday night rolls around and you couldn’t wait to hang out with all your friends. They had all agreed the wine and paint night would be fun, and to go to a late dinner afterwards.

You and Harry split and uber with Niall and Sarah.

“I’m begging the two of you, when we come home later, please don’t hump each other in the back of the car again.” Sarah says. “It was disgusting.” She says giggling. Before you can answer, Harry speaks.

“Can’t make any promises, sorry.” He winks at her.

“Make an effort then.” She sticks her tongue at him and he sticks it right back. You shake your head at the two of them with a smile.

You meet Rachel and Mariah at the place and you all head in. You each pick out the wine you want, and are given aprons to wear over your clothes. Harry helps you ties yours and you help him with his. Everyone else just sort of tied their own. Were the two of you cute or co-dependent? It was hard to tell from time to time.

You grab a stool and listen to the presenter who shows you what you’ll be painting. You all giggle and take sips of your wine. You’d be painting a lighthouse by the water. Not terribly difficult. Since you were left handed you had to be a little more careful than the others so you wouldn’t smudge anything. Harry watched as you took your first strokes. You always did everything with precision.

“Everyone look over here.” Sarah says. She had her phone up to take a group selfie. You all smile.

The painting was a lot of fun, and super relaxing. Of course Rachel’s painting looked the best. Yours was okay. Harry’s came out beautifully.

“Looks great, love.” He says, admiring your work.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No! I mean it, your shadows look good.” You give him a kiss on the cheek.

You’re told that the paintings will be stored to dry, and that you could come pick them up during the week if you wanted. The six of you head out to a pub for dinner. There were more drinks and lots of bar food. Harry kept his arm around you as he always did. He was more relaxed than usual. He liked having Mariah around. Someone else to talk to when Niall would join in on the girl talk.

“Y/N, are we still going to the mall tomorrow?” Sarah asks.

“Yup, was thinking we could leave around eleven.”

“Sounds good.”

“What are yeh shoppin’ for?”

“Just need to pick up some things. Rach, you’re still coming?”

“Yup, I’m gonna meet you two there.”

“You’ll be busy at an engagement shoot tomorrow anyways, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Mariah, do you a lot of freelance work?” Niall asks her.

“A little here and there, not as much as H though.”

“Okay, I need to ask.” Sarah starts. “What is with H? How does that nickname get started?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing actually.” You say.

“I don’t know when it started. S’not like I said call me H or anythin’.” He shrugs.

“I feel like I heard someone call you H and it just stuck.” Mariah explains.

“More formal.” He says. “Niall never calls me H.”

“Nope, always Harry.”

You lean into him, feeling slightly tipsy. You decide to switch to water for the rest of the time at the pub. This time in the uber home, Sarah and Niall take the way back seat, but it didn’t stop Harry from nibbling on your neck and whispering in your ear to make you giggle. It was a great night.

“Night guys, see you tomorrow Sarah.” Harry has it arms wrapped around you to hold you from behind.

“Night, just text me before it’s time to go.” She says and nod.

You and Harry head up to your apartment, and practically race off to the bedroom. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, all over you. His hands cup your cheeks and he brings you in for a deep kiss. He walks you into the bedroom and presses you up against the wall next to the door. Your tongues mold together, and you’re in pure bliss.

His hands move to the hem of your shirt, breaking your kiss only for a moment to lift it off of you. He unhooks your bra with ease, and lets it fall to the floor. He takes his won shirt off and pulls you close to him so your breasts are pressed tightly to his chest. He kisses your jawline and moves to the skin just under your ear, sucking it in between his teeth and biting down.

“Oh god.” You moan, hands flying up to his hair.

“Need to taste you tonight.”

He picks you up and puts you on the bed, yanking your jeans and panties off. You giggle as he spreads your legs apart. He kisses down your chest, stomach, and hips. He kisses your inner thigh and leaves a few love bites behind as his tongue trails to your center. He licks a flat stripe up to your clit, and starts to suck on you. Your head slams back into the mattress. He’s done this to you more times than you can count, but it always felt like the first time. A vast amount of pleasure sweeps over you, and you gasp when you feel two of his fingers plunge up inside you, curling right away. Harry knew where your sweetest spot was. His mouth continues on your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“Harry.” You whimper.

He pumps faster, and flicks his tongue back and forth on your clit. He feels you clench around him, he knows your close. Your stomach tightens, and your back arches as you come undone. He takes his fingers out and laps up everything while you come, only adding to the wonderful sensation.

You catch your breath as he moves to hover over you. He takes one of your nipples between his lips, and sucks on it.

“Wanna, ngh, return the favor.”

“Later, need to be inside you now.”

He spreads you back apart and lines himself up with you. He slowly pushes inside. You gasp as his throbbing cock enter you. You pull him down close to you as be begins to move, rocking his hips against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, and cross them at your ankles.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans in your ear.

“Keep talking, love when you do this.” Your nails scratch at his back.

“You like havin’ my cock inside you?”

“Yes, it’s so big.”

“Yeh like the way I stretch you out?”

“God, yes.” One of his hands moves between where you’re connected to rub your clit. “You know my body so well.” You moan. “Always give me just what I need.”

“That’s right, always here to take care of you.” He moves to make eye contact with you as he pinches your clit and feels the beginning of your orgasm take over.

Your mouth parts as you look at him. He wants to watch every emotion you go through as you come, and you intend to show him. You nails sink further into his back and he knows he’s almost done for.

“Want you to come on my tits Harry, will you do that?” You say as you come down from your high.

He pulls out of you, and you squish your boobs together to give him a better target. That was all he needed before he released on you. You moan when you feel the heat of him on your skin. He collapses next to you and tries to catch his breath.

“Look at me babe.” You turn your head to face him. He was laying on his side. “I’ll clean yeh up in a second, but…”

“What baby?”

“Are yeh havin’ me come on you so much because you’re still afraid of me comin’ inside? I’m not complainin’ cause it’s so fuckin’ hot, but…”

“It’s just that we never do it is all…and yeah I’m still a little nervous, but at least I’m over using condoms right? Small steps.” You smile and he kisses you.

“I do like the way you look with my jizz all over you.” He smirks and gets up to grab a rag. He comes back over and cleans you up.

“Yeah, you like it when I’m dirty, huh?”

“Now, I have to go to sleep so I can get up on time, so none of that.” He gives your bum a little smack as you roll over after he’s done cleaning you up. He gets in with you and faces you.

“Oh, so I can’t be your dirty girl?” You giggle.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Harry got up early, as much as he just wanted to lay in the warm bed with you, put on a nice outfit, and headed to the engagement shoot that was an hour or so away. You got up shortly after, showered, and texted Sarah. She met you down at your car.

“Thanks again for coming with, definitely need your opinions on what I want to buy.”

“No problem! You know I’ll never turn down a shopping trip. What do you need to get?”

“I’ll tell you once we’re with Rach.”

You both meet Rachel outside the main entrance of the mall, and walk in together. You lead them to a lingerie store.

“So…” You start blushing. “While Harry was in Florida a while ago, I found these pictures he had taken of himself…they were intimate.” You cough nervously as they nod. “He had mentioned he wanted to take pictures of me like that sometime, so since I’m leaving at the end of next week, I thought I would surprise him and let him take picture of me before I go.”

“Hot!” Rachel says.

“But I need your help picking out some outfits. I want to look sexy, but…I don’t know…elegant? I want it to feel like one of his professional shoots, only I’ll be wearing minimal clothing.”

“We’re on the case.” Sarah says. “Everyone, divide and conquer, we’ve got some work to do.”

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fic #fluff #smut #hope yall enjoyed!#hope it was worth the wait #im already excited for part 62 its soooo good #i feel excited about them again #come hang out in my ask box

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recurring-polynya · 4 years ago

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Can we get some drabbles on Renji’s time with Squad 11 especially his interactions with Kenpachi and Yachiru? Obviously shenanigans with Ikkaku and Yumichika are welcome! Also, how did you think he was promoted to Squad 6 lieutenant? It’s safe to assume he applied (I can imagine his Squad 11 gang even helping him out with this) as that’s part of his “master Get-Back-Rukia plan” but moving from 6th seat to lieutenant is a leap and I imagine that Byakuya is super picky. Imagine his job interview!

I’ll do the meta part first.

#0. For starters, Renji spent 40 years reverse-engineering how to make Squad 6 Vice-Captain. He read every Teen Vogue profile on Byakuya, he clipped Byakuya’s unreadable etiquette column in the Bulletin, he studied Kuchiki military history, he hung out at Shirogane Ginjirou’s sunglasses shop and knew exactly when the guy planned to retire and got a bunch of spilled tea on Byakuya’s pet peeves, of which there are many. Byakuya is not exactly a complicated guy, it isn’t all that hard to figure out what the right answers to his interview questions are gonna be.

#1. I think there is an exam that qualifies you to be a vice-captain, and that Renji vastly over-prepared for it and got an extremely high score. Byakuya loves big numbers.

#2. There is a standard application for Vice-Captain that’s probably about 5 pages long. Renji’s application was 15 pages long. He included a personal essay and a long paean to how much he admired the principles of Squad 6. Byakuya loves Squad 6, and he loves a guy who is really enthusiastic about Squad 6.

#3. Renji is great in an interview. I headcanon that he and Rukia did a lot of con artistry back in Rukongai. Byakuya is a mark. Primarily, Renji gave him opportunities to pontificate, which Byakuya loves. Byakuya talked through 90% of Renji’s interview, and walked out feeling great.

#4. The only thing Renji had going against him was the reference section. Byakuya hates Zaraki and would go out of his way to avoid talking to him. Aizen was still salty that Renji left his squad, and tried to reverse psych Byakuya into not hiring him. (“Oh, I think he’d be an excellent second for you, Byakuya! He’s a bit impulsive, and I’m sure your influence would overcome some of that hotheadedness! His poor kidou skills shouldn’t be a problem, I’m sure you’ve got that covered yourself…”) Unfortunately for Aizen, Byakuya was already 80% on Team Renji and he realized Aizen was trying to play him, and Byakuya hates being played.

Job offer within 24 hours. Regrets came later.

I do a lot of shenanigans with Ikkaku and Yumichika, but not usually Kenpachi and Yachiru, so let’s try that for a change!

🗡️ 💖 💪

“I have a Special Assignment for you, Abarai,” the Kenpachi grumbled.

Special Assignments could be anything, really. Running around dive bars in the upper Rukon, stapling up posters to advertise their next Recruitment Brawl. Delivering blotchy hand-written notes to Captain Unohana. Helping Zaraki set up elaborate obstacle courses that would then necessitate another Recruitment Brawl. The majority of Renji’s Special Assignments involved helping the captain get somewhere he needed to go. Zaraki was very good at getting lost, but Renji was exceptionally good at finding places. This worked out rather nicely, because there was almost always something interesting to fight in the places that Zaraki wanted to go, and the more Zaraki saw Renji fight, the more willing he was to bring him along.

“We goin’ somewhere, sir?” Renji asked hopefully.

Zaraki scratched his ass pensively. “Not today. C’mon in, I don’t wanna talk about it outside.” He let the way into what was occasionally jokingly referred to as his “office.” It was the place where Zaraki hung out and took naps during the day, in case anyone wanted to find him for fighting purposes. “Chisaka had to go to the Living World last week,” Zaraki explained, rummaging around in his kosode and pulling out a well-thumbed magazine. “She brought Yachiru back some manga she thought she would like.”

“That was nice,” Renji commented carefully. Giving gifts to Yachiru was nearly always an exercise in “no good deed goes unpunished.”

“Yeah, it went over real good,” Zaraki grumbled. “She liked it so much, she wants her hair done up like the kid in it.” He thrust the crumpled booklet at Renji. It was a girls’ manga, the kind with a lot of sparkles and girls in sailor suits. Zaraki poked a gnarled finger at a picture of a little girl with pink hair, twisted up into two little buns, with fluffy ponytails trailing down from them.

Renji rolled his eyes up towards his captain. “What the actual fuck, sir? Isn’t this more Ayasegawa’s department?” Zaraki didn’t like to be called ‘sir’ unless there was a profanity somewhere in the same sentence.

“Dammit, Abarai, I know you’ve let Ayasegawa do your hair. It takes him four fucking hours and he screams at you if you squirm. Yachiru can’t sit through that shit.”

Renji made an uncomfortable face. “Your hair always looks great, can’t you--”

“I tried! She doesn’t want me to use any gel, says it needs to be ‘fluffy’. How the hell are you supposed to do a hairstyle without gel, answer me that!”

“What makes you think I can do anything?” Renji finally whined.

“Look, I started at the top. Madarame ain’t got any hair, and Iba might as well not. You’re pretty fast, and you’re probably strong enough to hold her down, and at least you know how a ponytail holder works.” Zaraki sucked his teeth. “If you do it, I’ll fight you later.”

“Really?” Renji asked, his eyebrows shooting up. Zaraki didn’t usually feel that anyone below Ikkaku merited his time, and Renji jumped at every opportunity to convince him otherwise.

“Yeah, sure.” Zaraki flung open the door to the room where Yachiru sat, scowling, surrounded by an assortment of ribbons and barrettes. “I got help.”

“Wrong Way doesn’t know how to do hair!” Yachiru shouted.

Renji and Yachiru had an ongoing philosophical disagreement about the geography of the Seireitei. Yachiru had zero legs to stand on in this argument, but also, she was the one who came up with nicknames.

“He has a lot of hair,” Zaraki countered.

“That’s boy hair!” Yachiru returned. “It doesn’t count!”

“I�� have done girl hair before,” Renji admitted, somewhat painedly. “Hair is hair!” He almost yelled “Gender is a construct!” because he had been reading some of the books Iba’s mom kept leaving in their room, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to explain what that meant. At this point, he just wanted to get this over with, preferably without getting kicked in the nose, which tended to happen a lot around Yachiru. “If you let me try, I’ll let you do my hair.”

Yachiru’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“You can’t cut it, but sure. Whatever.”

Zaraki was looking over at him with something that might have been respect. “Do you know what you’re doing, you crazy bastard?” he mumbled.

“Absolutely not,” Renji replied.

🗡️ 💖 💪

“They’re uneven, is all I’m saying,” Yumichika sniffed.

“I love them, he put extra ribbons on!” Yachiru howled, swinging her sheathed sword at Yumichika, who deftly ducked. The ribbons swung delightfully around the sides of her head.

“I’m honestly surprised there were any ribbons left,” Iba commented dryly.

“You can shut it, fucko!” Renji yelled. His hair was styled rather similarly to his vice-captain’s, except that his was in three (rather lumpy) buns, and his ponytails trailed more majestically. The curling iron had been a terrible idea overall, but the big, loopy curls at the ends of both Renji’s and Yachiru’s hair had definitely been worth all the burns.

Ikkaku rubbed his own bald pate. “I kinda like that look on him. 100 kan says it helps him fight better.”

“You’re on,” Iba agreed.

“What’s the hold up?!” Zaraki roared.

“Here I come!” Renji bellowed.

“Ganbatte, Wrong Way!” Yachiru cheered.

There was a loud crunch.

Ikkaku handed over the 100 kan. “It was worth a try.”

#happy birthday renji!#renji abarai #squad 11 #my writing #drabbles

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