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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years ago

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break me.

natasha romanoff masterlist | navigation

summary: she didn’t mean to hurt you, or at least that’s what you think.

warnings: cheating, g!p natasha, phone sex, heavy angst, and no happy ending - 18+ minors dni.

notes: i’m sorry

big shout out to an anon who gave me an idea about a breaking up scenario, i love you for that!

"Thanks for letting me in," Natasha said, her voice hoarse and her eyes brimming with tears before she arrived. I sat on the other side, not wanting to think about her. I know I'll become attached if I do. She sat on her favorite leather couch, her body trembling as she smelled the rose from the candle. She was reminded of my clothes, my hair, and the entire house by the scent. She was aware that it was my favorite scent. “I never thought I’d be back in this house.”

I evicted her a few months ago, but I was eager to hear her confess what she had done wrong. Wanting to know that she did all of that, knowing that she'll eventually lose me. Her gaze trailed up to meet mine, but when she saw how unconcerned I was, she returned her gaze to her hands.

“Do you want a glass of water?”

"I—" she pauses, solemnly shaking her head. “N-No, thank you.”

“This is your house,” I pointed out, as a matter of fact. “There’s a bottle of water in the fridge.”

“I’m alright, Y/n.”

You have no idea how much you scarred my heart, how much I want to hurt you right now. Maybe even scream at you if I have the energy, but I choose to be modest with you. Because I know I’m the bigger person in this situation.

There was a long awkward silence as we waited for someone to speak up about the situation we were in. I turned away from her and focused on the cactus plant that was isolated by the wall's corner. I could hear her sniffling, but I didn't dare to look at her. I used to have a pure heart, one that was kind and loving. But as soon as she hurt me, and ruined me, I could barely look at myself back then because of her.

Her jacket smelled strange; it was smokier and smelled awful in my nostrils. But she always wears smoky perfumes, so I didn't see what the fuss was about.

But this scent is distinct, far distinct from her other perfumes. And there was a small circular pink mark on her collarbone. I knew it wasn't from me because we hadn't had sex in a year. She was always working, mostly on missions that required her to fly out of the country. She could have been gone for weeks, even months — and my arms were always open when she returned. We used to be a happy couple, with a lovely and exceptional marriage. But everything seems to fall apart when she becomes more focused on her work, never on me.

“Tash?” I looked up at her, and I could see those mysterious deep-looking eyes that she used to have when she looked at me. "Did you get into a fight?"

She only chuckles, but in a slur, and replied: “No, why would I get into a fight? You know I’m not like that.”

“But—”

“Can I wash up?” She fully discloses the situation and walks to the bathroom, removing her jacket almost shamefully and tossing it in the basket. “You can go to sleep, I’ll be up late anyway.”

I didn’t manage to speak up and instead sighed, nodding my way back into our bedroom to get some rest.

"My love, I hurt you, didn't I?"

She could hear the venom in my voice as I chuckled, "Numerous times, Nat," and I answered.

"Don't call me that," she pinches her temple, searching for my eyes, but I couldn't look her in the eyes. Not when she has harmed my skin and my beating heart. “Baby, look at me.”

“That’s a hard task.”

“I don’t love her.”

“Oh please—”

She gets to her feet and knelt between my legs, grabbing my hands and placing them near her chest. "I don't!" she exclaims, tears streaming down my wrist. "I was just... confused. Okay? I was very lost; I thought I had lost you, so I went to Jamie because she reminded me of you!"

My rage erupted within me, causing me to yell at her.

“You know that’s not true, Natasha!”

"But it's true," she whimpered as she stood up again, wiping her tears with the cardigan I used to wear whenever I missed her. Does she ever wash it? Is she missing me? What is going through her head? "Every time I looked at her, it was all you—"

“Stop it, right now.”

“And whenever she would laugh, I could hear your laugh,” Natasha’s breath hitched. “Everything she does reminds me of you because it felt like our marriage died when we stopped having sex.”

I rose up from the couch and pointed my index finger at her, saying: “But you CHOSE that! You can’t say that everything that she does reminds you of me when you’ve obviously fallen in love with her!”

“This dick is too big for you, huh?”

“You want this? Do you want this down your throat? Beg for it, sweetheart.”

I awoke a few hours later to a strange sound coming from the office room. When I looked to my side, there was no space. I assumed she wanted a couple of beers before going to bed because it helps her sleep. I got up from rose from the mattress and exited the room, the sound becoming increasingly clear. The door slightly gaped, and I peeked at it, only to see what I didn’t expect to see.

“You like this?”

Natasha's sweatpants were undone, and her breathing pattern had shifted. She was furiously stroking her cock while her eyes were fixed on the screen of her phone. I wanted to leave her alone because I wasn't in the mood to help her, but when I looked closely at her phone, I noticed she was on a video call with another girl.

Who isn’t me.

“Play with your clit for me,” Natasha begged, her voice getting louder. “Ugh, want to be inside you again so bad…”

I wanted to scream, that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to storm in, throw her phone against the wall, and slap her across the face. The girl looked young on the screen, almost passing my sister’s age. I was guessing she was 19 or 20, but I couldn’t care less. Does she know Natasha was married? How did they meet? Or maybe she was some girl that she met at a beer, and decided to fuck her instead of me.

“I-I want to cum,” she was whimpering, and I wanted to look away. I felt ashamed for my wife, including myself. “Natty, can I please cum?”

“I want to cum first,” Natasha’s voice starts to stutter and I watch as she had orgasm, moaning the girl’s name. “Oh, baby! That’s it, watch me as I fill you up.”

She cleaned up herself after that, spending a few minutes with the girl on the phone. I hear her say, “I love you, baby. I’ll spend the rest of my life with you?”

“Aren’t you married? What about her? She’s going to devastate if you ever—”

“Don’t mind her, little one,” she sighs, grabbing the glass of her scotch. “She will never know about us.”

“I’ve only fallen for you in my life,” I stared at her with my tired eyes. I wanted to scream at her and throw her clothes out the window before I did something even worse than what I was already doing. She shakes her head and sobs loudly before falling to her knees again. "It was always you, my love. No one could ever replace that.”

Pathetic.

“Well, you’ve certainly changed that when you loved Jamie.”

I decided to conduct my investigation a few weeks later. Jamie was her name, and she lived near the Avenger's house. I saw her and Natasha chatting in a driveway near her house. When I met her, a cousin of hers informed me that she was only 19 years old. Natasha met me when I was around 19, almost in my twenties. Was that her range now? Dating girls, who used to be my age? I and Jamie were only a few years apart in age, and I realized Natasha was having sex with this girl to romanticize the fact that I was who she was because I knew I was getting bored.

“They met at a bookstore,” was it my favorite bookstore? “I remember Natasha being so stunned by my cousin, and there was no shame in that. After a couple of weeks later, they start having sex.”

I make circular motions on my mug, as I try to calculate what month was — specifically the month that I had stopped having sex with her.

“That’s why she asked me if birth controls were effective,” the other cousin said, shaking her head — almost in a profounding disgust. “She wasn’t always having sex, but this Natasha—your wife, had this big effect on her. I still don’t understand it to this day.”

“When did they start having sex?”

She sighed again, almost ashamedly, and murmured, "Last year, around January." That was all I needed to know; it was that month that we began fighting, stopped having sex, and gave each other silent treatment. "I-I was going to tell you, but I was afraid my information would be leaked to everyone. But, Y/n, I really wanted to tell you."

"It's neither of your faults," I said, my throat trembling as tears welled up in my eyes. I can't cry now, not when I feel powerless over Natasha. "She-she's a young girl; I'm not even sure she understands who Natasha is."

“What is she like, then?”

I took a step back from her, remembering how much I used to love her, both inside and outside of me. Everything I shared with her has vanished, and our marriage was almost a mistake. I knew I wasn't ready at the time, and I don't think I'll ever be able to mend my broken heart after this series of events.

“She can be a romantic,” I sniffled, looking down at my cold hands. “But she is a heartbreaker, she truly is.”

As soon as I got back home, I saw Natasha sitting on the couch with a whiskey in her hand. Her eyes looked terrible, almost as if she was hurt by someone’s words. Usually, she would never feel pain when it comes to her missions. Mostly because she knew how to handle them, but her eyes looked different. I was already guessing that it was Jamie, and not me.

“Hey,” I said, dropping my bag on the floor and sitting down beside her, pretending to be her wife just for this moment. “What’s got you crying?”

She lets out a quiet whimper and scooted a little further away from me, shaking her head with more tears welling up in her eyes. Tell me the truth, Natasha. I want you to say it, say that you cheated on me. Say that you’re a monster—

“You're wearing that cardigan again.”

It was the cardigan that she gave me when we were back in Norway, as an anniversary gift of our marriage. We looked so blissfully happy back then, we were always dancing and making love at each opportunity that we had. I wanted to smile and kiss her on her cheek, but I felt still and unhappy. I still wanted to hurt her as much as I did weeks ago.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “You gave it.”

We fell into silence before she spoke up again.

“I have to tell you something, but promise me you will try to understand.”

I don’t think I could fake what I’m feeling because of you.

“What’s wrong?”

She placed her glass on the side table and looked at me with a darker shade of green in her eyes. I could tell she had been swarmed up with guilt and sorrow — it was starting to hurt me too. She smiled but it faltered quickly, only to hear her sobbing.

A broken sob from the antagonist.

“I love you,” she whispers under her breath, it doesn’t feel good when I hear that term. “I—I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Nat, just say what you need to say—”

“I got a girl pregnant.”

"How old is your infant?" I inquired, breaking the silence. Natasha raised her head briefly to look at me. She opened her mouth, but no word came out of her lips.

Where did you go?

“6 months,” she claims, her voice starting to get deeper. “It’s a girl—I’m having a baby girl.”

“Is Jamie happy with her pregnancy?” I inquired once more, curious about her secret life while I was present. I wanted to tear her apart, to destroy her sanity until she went insane. I wanted to wish her bad things, but I also wanted to never see her again.

“Yeah, she is.”

I exhaled and let out a loud cry through my lips. I burst into tears, probably because she had told me that Jamie was content with her pregnancy and that they were content with the baby together. I used to fantasize about having a child with Natasha because I knew she'd be an excellent mother. That washed away when she cheated on me, slept with someone behind my back, and fell in love while I was no longer with her. I even believe it was my fault at one point. Perhaps I wasn't always present? I pondered. Maybe I stopped giving her the attention that she needed from me, the love that she deserves.

“I will have this child, but I will come home to you,” she says, almost like a promise. She kneels down with me and cups my face, bringing her lips against mine. I was stunned, yet again. I haven’t felt her lips for a long time, and it’s making me miss her more. Does she deserve my trust? Do I want to go back with her? “I love you, sweetheart. I always have and always will, okay? Please just take me back. I’ll make everything right again!”

“I’m sorry,” she broke down on my lap, clinging to my waist as she sobs harder on my stained black shirt. “I didn’t mean to—I promise I didn’t, it just happened…”

“I know you’ve been in love with someone else, Nat.” there was no need to lie there, and I had to tell her. At some point, I almost felt bad for her more than myself. I guess you could say my morals were more intact than hers, because if she even had one, then none of this would happen. Natasha lifted her head and looked like she was going to vomit.

“What?”

"I discovered it when you two were... calling each other," I stood up, harshly removing her arms from around me, and threw a bag on the floor as I threw her clothes from the closet. She approaches me and pulls me away with a hug from behind. “Natasha, let me go.”

“Don't let me go,” she mumbles on my neck. “Please don’t make me go, I don’t know where I’ll be staying—”

“Either at the facility or your girlfriend’s house,” I replied with no emotions, still grabbing her clothes away from mine. “You decide.”

She shakes her head violently, her arms tighten around me, and I find myself unable to breathe. I wanted to cry in her arms and tell her that everything was fine and that it was never her fault because I knew it was mine. I should've been more aware of her desire to be fully present as a wife. But I failed, and I couldn't admit it to myself.

“You don’t love me or this house,” my voice suddenly changed, it was getting more aggressive as I closed the closet door with a slight whimper. “You love that girl, and you know it.”

“I promise I’ll be better,” Natasha wails, kissing my neck. “I’ll be good, I’ll be here now… okay? I love you, I love you—”

“You don’t love me, you never have!”

"Please, allow me to explain everything," I turned around, and her lips grazed mine, attempting to kiss me. My mind told me to slap her and leave the house, but my heart tells me that I love her and that I should forgive her. Except I couldn't decide. I've loved this woman since the first time I laid eyes on her, so this was a difficult decision for me. "Please sit down and allow me to explain everything, okay?"

“The divorce papers are on the dining table,” I said as I brought out two pieces of luggage from the corner. She shakes her head and touches my hand; I forgot to remove the engagement ring that I always wear, and I realize that I couldn’t let go of it. “Nat, I have to go back home, okay? They know everything, and they want me to leave.”

“O-Okay,” she nods, scratching her nose as she sighs feverishly. “I’ll see you again, okay? Let me keep your cardigan. Please? I’ll give it to you once you come back.”

Through thick and thin.

I nodded and smiled at her one last time. I leaned in for one last meaningful kiss, and I could tell she was desperate because her hand was on my neck. I could feel our tongues gliding against each other as if they were dancing as we kissed for a minute. But then I drew back and kissed her cheek, knowing it was the last time I'd ever touch her in this way.

"That's the thing, my love," I said softly, "I'll never come back."

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Exactly.”

Natasha stayed at our—her home, with silence wrapping around her, while I left with a relative picking me up. She sat against the door and cried for hours, the regret washing over her as she realized what she had lost.

"Kotenok," she says softly in my ear, biting the lobe softly, "we're going to be happy, okay? Promise me you'll never leave."

I smiled blissfully at her, knowing that our future will be filled with joy.

“I promise, my bear.”

hehe

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha angst #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #black widow x you #a's oneshots!

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austajunk · 1 year ago

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Komanami 28 (:V)

“Nanami-san…ngh…If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself…”

If he was being honest, Nagito wasn’t really trying at all to stop himself. His legs were spread on the bed and his eyes were glued to Chiaki’s slumbering form as he pumped his hand up and down his cock.

“I’m the worst…absolutely unforgivable…ha…”

Feverish beads of sweat trickled down Nagito’s half-naked, slender body as he worked his fingers carefully to massage his glands. He bit his bottom lip, but soon released it. What was the point of trying to be quiet? He deserved to be caught by Chiaki for masturbating to her just sleeping in front of him.

“I can’t help it, Nanami…” The excuses were spilling from his lips. He wanted to be touched so bad. Her hands looked so soft and with how many video games she played, he could only imagine how well she could play with his cock.

Chiaki Nanami had passed out from such a long night of gaming entangled in the various wires from her consoles. When Nagito had gone to check on her and brushed some dust from her chubby cheeks, she had groaned softly and brushed her knee against the front of his pants. To think, so much Hope and potential could fit in her tiny, curvaceous body…

Nagito flushed and slowed his hands to a few final thrusts. Shamefully, a strong line of cum splattered across Chiaki’s chin. To see her features stained in his filth, Nagito stifled a small, ashamed cry.

“Ah…ngh…Chiaki…” A few more splatters of seed decorated the front of her blouse and seeped into her kitty hoodie. “Ehehehe…I’m so…haha…shameful…!! When I see you resting and groaning like a kitten in your sleep, I wanna service you, Nanami-san!” The spirals deepened in his eyes.

What should he do next? Gently, he pulled Chiaki’s apart, admiring the wet patch that had developed on the crotch of her panties. That was until a small, but calm sigh snapped him out of his haze of lust.

“Geez, Komaeda-kun…do you have to do this every time you find me asleep?” Chiaki brushed a hand through her messy hair. Her tongue slid past her bottom lip to sample the cum that had splattered across her face. “Mhmm…a little too salty…do you ever eat anything sweet?”

“Ah, you’re very demanding when you wake up like this, Nanami-san,” Nagito said with a friendly wave as though he wasn’t just prepared to eat her out. He offered her a sweet, hapless grin. “I’m just not a fan of sweet stuff… but when I see you acting so innocent in your sleep and making such sweet groans, I can’t help myself…” His head sank between her legs so that the gamer could only see the white locks of his unrestrained hair tickling her inner thighs.

“Komaeda…” Chiaki pouted. She sucked in a breath as something warm and water slid up her folds, eliciting a small, sweet sigh from her lips. “Ngh…that’s dirty to go there…”

“But I don’t want to stop…mhmmmm….”

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #chiaki nanami #nagito komaeda #komanami #nsft #fufufuf #dirty Nagito!#thanks for the ask!#smut prompts #100 smut prompts #ficlets

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nmjoo-n · 2 years ago

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DREAM GIRL 💭 kim namjoon.

pair. writer! namjoon x f. reader | genre. age gap romance, obsession, love at first sight, angst | warnings. corruption kink, profanity, slight stalker behavior, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, power imbalance, just filthy sex tbh | word count. 3.7k

synopsis. “tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?” or namjoon is completely enamored by your angelic innocence, and absolutely has to claim you.

Kim Namjoon spent most of his time reading.

His most recent binge had been Murakami books, the woman through a man’s point of view, and while fascinating—it lacked depth. Intensity. This author clearly understood the peculiar sex very little, was entirely focused on his love for them, and their reaction to it. If it was Namjoon, he’d let them lead the narrative, while he’d step back and observe.

Women were to be observed, understood, before approached. This is how he found you, a perfect little angel in your white dress, sipping coffee outside his neighborhood’s café, softly talking to a grey, stray cat, your hand extended out for it, your fingers delicate in their calling. You stopped him dead on his tracks. He could do nothing but stare.

You looked so peaceful in your oblivion, your hair up and away from your face, a book propped on your knees. Namjoon’s feet moved without his knowledge, his mind replaying one thing—I have to see your face, your beautiful features, I need to meet you, sweetheart. Shamefully, his cock stirred in his pants, alerting him of his improper intentions. No matter. He couldn’t control his response to you, didn’t want to.

Walking in the coffeehouse, he leaned against the tall counter, head lazily falling into his open palm, gaze following your every move. Ordering his usual drink, he gathered the courage to approach you. You seemed to like this cat, so, perhaps an animal lover, and you most certainly were a reader—it was a start, an opening for him.

Clouds were beginning to gather, September coming to an end, but you paid no mind to them, your eyes scanning the pages of whatever you were reading. His writer brain was romanticizing your entire existence, was picturing you under him, in his arms, consumed, defiled, claimed. A pretty little thing dancing in the rain, running towards him, laughing, the outline of your breasts visible for anyone to see.

Henry Miller would’ve been one jealous fucker if he’d ever known you were out there, years ahead of him, a muse for the taking. Namjoon thanked every fucking God known for putting you in his way. Bukowski would be having a field day fantasizing about your honey dripping thighs and sweet pussy. You are every writer’s dream, sweetheart, and do you even realize?

“Beautiful choice,” he comments on the book in your lap, coming to stand over you, desperately trying not to lose it over your angel features.

You jump, startled, and look up to witness the most breathtaking man you’ve ever come across in your life, smiling down at you. You smile back without meaning to, your back straightening, your shoe clad feet touching the pavement.

“Anaïs is for the bold,” you retort, voice light, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair opposite you.

He’s massive, with strong arms and long legs. He thanks you softly and takes the seat, paper cup in hand, eyes piercing through you in an identifiable way. You shiver—blame it on the chilly day.

“Are you bold, then?” He asks cryptically, leaning into you. You feel exposed, but intrigued. So incredibly intrigued.

You falter in giving him your answer. You don’t even know his name. You don’t think it matters. “I—I try, I think.”

He smirks, and pulls away, taking with him his amber scent and magnetism. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. You reason with yourself, try to find an explanation for your thought’s reaction—your body’s.

“I’m Namjoon, sweetheart. What should I call you?” His voice was velvet; deep, and manly. It radiated through you.

Closing the book, you instead chose to hold your coffee cup between your hands, a distraction from the intense man pinning you down with those dark eyes. His black leather jacket accentuated his big shoulders, the buzz cut on the top of his head making him appear meaner than he actually was. Namjoon was older, you could tell. It scared you, but in the way rollercoasters make you nervous, or in the way thunder cracked in the night, somewhere far away, miles and miles from you. Bark with no bite.

“(Y/N),” you reply, licking your dry lips.

He follows the movement. “Pretty—(Y/N),” he tries it in his mouth, the sound sinful, inviting. “It’s beautiful.”

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, your head dropping to hide. Namjoon is an intuitive person, a risk-taking man. His fingers reach out, his index lifting your face to look at him. Your breathing has changed, you’re not accustomed to flirting, much less compliments from strangers, it’s all there for him to see. His innocent baby. He’d take his time with you. You deserved nothing less—he’d give you the fucking world, if you so wished.

“Are you a lover of books?” You ask, wanting to break the incantation, disperse the intensity of the moment.

His hand drops, the touch that lit a fire inside of you burning still, bright and strong heading lower, in between your legs, gone in an instant. You mourned for it, yearned for his hand to come back, touch you somewhere else. Your thoughts were shameless, your deepest desires but a breath away.

“You could say that,” he sips from his cup, calm and collected, legs crossed, studying you. “I’m a writer.”

“No way!” You exclaim, your cute reaction eliciting a laugh out of him. How adorable, he thinks, watching your nose scrunch up, your small, fuckable mouth curving in a smile that knocks the wind out of him.

“What about you, angel?”

“I’m a sophomore in college. Literature.”

Of course you are, his smart girl. He needs you to know, before he proceeds. He needs you to vocally say it’s okay for him to court you, to make you his. He won’t lay another finger on you until you do so.

“Sweetheart, you understand the age gap between us, don’t you?”

The part you dreaded. The truth. “Yes,” you say loud enough for just him to hear.

Namjoon leaves his now cold drink on the table, leans forward, forearms resting on top of his knees, fingers lacing together, a serious expression on his flawless face. Is this how it happens, you think? One day, out of the blue, no warning, no signs? Love, plainly in sight, asking you to accept it? You can’t say no. You don’t want to say no, knowing the difficulties, the struggles that entails.

“One word of yours and I’m out of your life. You’re holding the reigns,” he explains, but his eyes are terrified of you rejecting this, of scorning him, of sending him away after he’s found you, an oasis after a long dry desert.

He wants to love you madly. He wants to fuck you senseless, and ruin you for any other man. Most of all, he wants you to want the same things. Eight years isn’t a lot, but it’s a lifetime apart.

“You—you like me?” Your lips fall open, your chest deflates.

Oh, sweetheart, you might not be ready for what I feel for you, what I’m planning to do to you—it’s beyond words. Beyond reason.

“As soon as I saw you. I’m not a talkative person, (Y/N), I don’t walk up to just any girl.” There go those eyes again, haunting your soul, turning you inside out.

You blink, surprised at his honesty, at the bluntness of his words. In your twenty years on this earth, you’ve never been more sure of anything. This man will show you things you’ve never seen before, take you to places you’ve only dreamed of. He’s experienced, he’s an all rounded person.

He’s handsome. His mouth begs to be kissed.

“I like you too,” you admit, but refuse to meet his gaze.

He can’t have that. His fingers shoot out again, gently bringing your face level to his. Rain droplets release themselves from the puffy clouds. You don’t react to any of it, hypnotized under him, under his irresistible touch.

“It will be more than that. I need to know if you’ll be able to handle it, pretty girl. I’m not going to be your high school boyfriend.”

“I understand.” Your thighs clench together, your breathing erratic.

Namjoon notices, of course he does. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

Your eyelashes flutter, the red painting your cheeks turning a shade darker, your skin hot under his palm. He’s closer than ever, this broad man asking if he can take care of you. You’re endeared. Your heart is weak.

“I’m—no. A boy in my senior year,” you reply, embarrassed. Excited.

His eyes flash, something dark stirring in them, before it’s gone instantly. Jealousy. But, why? You couldn’t have possibly known, and even then…the danger. The forbidden. No, that couldn’t have been it.

Why hadn’t you waited? Who dared touched you before him? His muse, his perfect girl. Thoughts that had no place being voiced out loud, in fear of sounding insane. He would never admit to them.

“Then tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?”

His lips were but a breath away. You wanted to give in so badly, anything he wanted, you’d become pudding in his hands, melt away if that meant you’d be with him, if that meant he’d take you with him everywhere. His question. You stayed silent.

“Use your words, (Y/N). I’m not doing anything without your consent.”

You were so wet. So incredibly wet. If only he knew the influence his words had on you… He only had to reach a hand under your dress, touch your core. Then he’d realize just how inexperienced you truly were.

“Never,” you whisper.

You exchanged breaths, your eyes falling shut in the thought of his lips on yours, and it almost happened, the ghost of them faintly pressing, a gentle caress, before he pulls away completely, his hand finding yours, pulling you up with him.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you just did to me,” an arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you closer, your head at level with his chest, a man, standing before you, asking to have you.

“I should wait, I should take you out and make sure you’re fed, take care of you, every fucking inch of you, before I even begin to think—do you want this?” His voice is vibrating, filled with his desire, breath now tickling your ear, a whisper between lovers.

You just met Namjoon. You don’t know anything about him, nothing but your attraction to him. Your body’s reaction. So what if this was a bad decision? He didn’t look like a bad guy. Anais Nin wasn’t second guessing herself when she fell into an affair with Henry Miller. It just happened, their souls spoke to each other clearly. Could this be what was happening?

You wanted him inside you. You wanted what he offered, every bit of it. Yes, yes, yes.

“Take me with you, Namjoon.”

Together you run, belongings forgotten; the rain had turned from a faint whispering to a thundering roar in a split second, and it didn’t take long for the both of you to get completely drenched in it, tasting sky water, your small hand in his bigger one, holding tight, fingers intertwining.

He only had to look back once. Your dress was see-through, he could see your white undergarments, the silk of your panties, the cups of your bra. Namjoon growled, a guttural noise boiling from his throat. Immediately, he pulled you in between two buildings, a narrow alleyway leading to apartments’ fire escapes unraveling in the length of it.

Leading you under a small shed, he made sure you were against the wall, covered, while he let his arms rest above your head, your bodies touching. He looked down at you, his breathing labored, and he saw the skin glistening, the fabric sticking on every curve, those pink lips open, fast breaths exhaled.

He kisses you, then. Takes your lips as his own, traps you in his embrace. You taste like cold rain, but when his tongue slips past, there’s hints of coffee with milk. Namjoon smiles against your mouth, hands getting lost in your hair, steadying themselves at the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw, your chin—you fit right into him, so small, so precious. He’s going to love corrupting you, tainting you.

“Has anyone ever touched you…here?” His fingers bunch your dress up, dip under it, over your slick. You gasp—he marvels at your expression.

“No? Baby talk to me, use your pretty mouth,” he kisses you again, his digits moving over your panties. You’re moving with them, rubbing against them, it’s all wet wet wet—

“No one.” Your nails dig into his jacket. He sighs dreamily; you’re a vision for him. An angel send.

“Did that boy not know how to please you, baby? He just shoved his fucking dick in you carelessly?” His voice grew rough, anger rippling through him. “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart. You deserve to be loved, to be caressed…”

With one hand slipping inside your panties, fingers curling, entering you slowly, the other one ran up and down your thigh, gripping at your waist, snaking its way to the small of your back, and back down. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pumping movements inside you, the long digits bringing you pleasure, making your cunt ache, clench around them.

Namjoon was hiding you from view with his entire body. This was only for him to see, but it also served as a test. To see how far you were willing to go with him.

“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl. So tight, so wet for me… I want to taste you, baby, I want to inhale you. Will you let me?”

Your moans were music to his ears. They started as low pants, your hand blocking most of them, your cheeks that familiar pink shade. He saw it happen, as his fingers curled a specific way, the way your legs fell open wider, the way your voice turned a pitch higher than before, unable to hold back, helpless against your pleasure. Namjoon was rock hard, stifled in his pants.

But that would come shortly. First, he needed to show you—what he can do. What you could have every single day, everywhere, as soon as you spoke the words. He’d cater to your every need, be whatever you wanted him to be. As long as he could have you, take you, own you.

A smack on your ass. Your eyes shot open, staring wide at him. He lifted you up at once, arm under those plump cheeks, his fingers still fucking your cunt vigorously. You yelped, held onto his shoulders in fear of falling, but quickly grew overwhelmed, your volume rising. Fuck him, you’re so fucking hot.

“Tell Daddy, my sweet girl—will you let me have a taste of your cunt?”

“Oh, please,” you whined, your head falling in the crook of his neck, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “Please.”

He needn’t be told twice. With your feet planted firmly on the ground again, he removed his hand from your panties, kneeling down in front of you, rain sipping through him, as he lifted your dress up. Namjoon looked up at you through his eyelashes, before he ripped that silk right off you, diving right into your slick.

Divine. He’s had a lot of sex, has tasted a lot of women, but none could ever compare to you, to your sweet fucking cunt. It was pure Heaven. And the way your back curved against the wall, pushing his head into you, his tongue swiping your wetness, sucking your clit—it was enough to make you cum. He slurped all of it up, fingers finding their way again into your warm hole. He’d blow, he fucking swears. Your beautiful voice moaning out his name, wet all over, a Goddess for him, as he laps your intoxicating juices. He drinks you up, he makes it his life’s mission.

“Fucking tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever had a lick of this pussy? You know it belongs to me now, don’t you?”

You nod your head, losing your mind. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re convulsing this hard. His baby.

“Words.”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please,” you sob, “please…fuck me, please…”

He locks you in place, his hands on your ass, determined to make you cum with his tongue, before his cock is anywhere near you. His impatient girl, so lost in feeling, such a slut for him, for what he’s giving you. He’s never had such a perfect woman.

When he started working both his fingers and mouth again, this time aggressively, his only motive was to get that pussy to drench him, to have your cum dripping from his chin. And it did just that when his thumb flicked over your clit relentlessly, tongue moving just underneath, three fingers deep. Your nails dug into his scalp, your entire body convulsing. He rubbed his stubby jaw on your lips, inhaling deeply. Your scent, uniquely yours—he now knew how you smelled. Truly. He would never be able to let you go.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me. Ready for me? Ready to give me another one?” He muttered, hands on your breasts, dropping kisses on your neck, before unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. “I love the way you cum. I can’t wait to have you on my bed, have my way with you. You’ll let me, yes baby? You’ll let Daddy defile you, pretty thing?”

You looked down at his girth, swallowing thickly. Namjoon chuckled darkly, allowing you to see what would enter you. He pumped himself a couple times, his other hand rubbing your pussy, making sure you were wet enough for him. You just looked so fucking innocent, all fucked out. He attacked your mouth once again, biting down on your lip.

“Do you taste yourself? My delicious fucking girl.”

He enters you slowly, brows furrowed, savoring the tightness. Once he bottoms out, he stills in you, letting you get used to him, his will made of iron. Your fingers wrap around his biceps as you take a deep breath through the sting of his cock.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks, worried.

“Yes,” you reply at once. “Go on.”

He hikes your thigh up and around his torso, as he lifts you up. You wrap around him and that’s fucking it—he loses it. His cock brutally starts pistoling into you, holding you tight against him. You meet his thrusts halfway, before it becomes too much for you to handle, instead becoming his personal little fuck doll to pound senseless. And he does. His moves are exact; sharp, and precise. He’s hitting everything inside you, the position as well as the thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim, until all you can think is him him him, inside your cunt, fucking you dumb.

“Call me by my name, sweetheart,” he pants in your ear, bouncing you on his dick.

“Namjoon,” you weakly moan, your breaths coming short, on the brink of passing out.

“My name,” he repeats harshly, ramming into you once, twice—

You throw your head back in ecstasy. “Daddy! Fuck, don’t stop! Keep fucking me please, please, I’m so fucking close daddy, please!”

“That’s my fucking angel.”

He does just that, until he can feel you spasming, until you’re screaming, begging, crying, coming on his cock, his desperate whore, getting fucked so good, isn’t she, bounce on my fucking dick, baby, ride it out, that’s right, milk me, fucking own me, my sweet fucking baby, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot, give me a kiss—

“Where do you want me, baby? Tell Daddy, fuck you’re clenching me so goddamn hard right now, sweetheart, please.”

“Inside, please inside, I want your cum inside of me, please,” you beg, and he almost fucking chokes on his spit.

His thrusts are fast, hard and sloppy now, bruising your pussy, chasing after his own release, his mouth filthy—you want me inside this fucking cunt, don’t you my perfect fucking baby, my little slut, you’re gonna let daddy paint your walls white, won’t you, squeeze me dry, baby, fuck, come on, clench those tight fucking walls, goddamn you, I want to die in this pussy, please baby—

His arms tighten around you as he comes, and you let him; you let him calm down, for his breathing to even out, as he slips out of you, and carefully unwraps your legs from his hips, planting kisses on your shoulders, water dripping from his hair. The thunderstorm still hasn’t passed, raging on beyond the shelter of this shed.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” you confess as he fixes your hair, your dress, adjusts the straps, gives you his jacket to make up for the lack of underwear, and even though it’s several sizes too big on you—he cares.

It wasn’t just a lie to have a quickie with you. He took his time to explore your body, to study what makes you tick, what sends you over the edge. You didn’t even know his last name, but he knew his way around your pussy the best, better than you it felt like.

His eyes are fond, staring down in adoration. “I want to make you feel good for as long as you let me, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you.”

You hug him, then, your arms not quite reaching all around him. But it’s enough for him. More than enough. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you so easily. You’re the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed. He wants to hide you away, put you in his pocket and carry you everywhere.

“What’s your last name?” You ask innocently, head still buried in his chest.

He barks a laugh out, squeezing you in him, the vibration of it radiating through you. “Should’ve mentioned it, huh? It’s Kim, angel. Kim Namjoon.”

“Kim Namjoon,” you try it. It sounds…wholesome. “Hi, Kim Namjoon.”

“Hello, baby.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, waiting the storm out in each other’s arms. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling, didn’t want to, never wanted to, ever again.

You couldn’t stop staring at him—he felt like the sun peeking after the gray of the clouds. Warm, important.

#bts #namjoon #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kpop smut #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #.mine

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teenageheartthrob · 3 years ago

Text

He Yells At You (Stucky x Reader)

Category: angst, fluff

Ship: Bucky x Reader x Steve (Stucky x reader)

Trigger Warnings: Yelling/arguing, PTSD mentioned

Summary: Steve yells at you when he's stressed, but there's more to it than he knows

Word Count: 2,216

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"WHERE IS SHE STEVE?! WHERE IS SHE?! I WILL TEAR THIS WHOLE FUCKING TOWER APART UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHERE OUR GIRL IS!"

Bucky Barnes was exhausted. Bucky Barnes was not about to waste time on something as small as asking questions nicely.

A week long mission that had turned into two, had kept him away from you and Steve Rogers for far longer than he would've liked. Preferably he would have told Nick Fury to suck it, along with some other vulgar acts his far too active imagination would produce.

But a job is a job, and if two weeks in Mexico City would keep people like the weapons dealers he was detailing away from either of you, it was worth it.

On top of that, one of the mobsters had clued in to the soldier's lurking, causing Bucky to have to cut all radio and comms contact with Shield to avoid being caught.

Getting home wasn't easy. Bucky set the Quinnjet to autopilot, ever grateful for Stark's myriad of technology, hoping to get some shut eye. But of course that didn't go as planned either. So Bucky Barnes arrived home at the avenger's compound, a week late, 43 hours sleep deprived and hoping more than anything that both you and Steve would be willing to crawl into bed with him at 12:30 pm on a Thursday afternoon and call it a day.

When Bucky opened the door to Steve's room, where he expected you both to be, all he found was his boyfriend, muttering to himself and running his hands through his hair wildly.

He soon discovered the cause of this stress as he quizzed a very distressed Captain Rogers on your whereabouts.

"I don't know..."

"Why don't you know, Steve?" Bucky asked his partner, voice growing dangerously quiet.

"She said she needed space..."

"And why would she say that?" The brunet inched closer towards the blond, anger radiating from him.

"I yelled at her," Steve admitted shamefully. "Jesus, Buck I don't know why I did it, it just happened, I would never hurt her!"

Bucky continued to close the gap between him and Steve, swallowing his anger to let the blond finish.

"I was upset and I was worried about you, no one had heard from you in days. Fury told me he couldn't say anything about it. I just kept thinking about that time on the train..." He paused, tears beginning to fill his eyes, "she was just trying to help...I told her it would be better if she was somewhere else for a couple of hours..."

Bucky couldn't believe what he was hearing, first and fore mostly because he didn't realise how badly these missions affected Steve compared to himself or their other half. Even when you were on a mission, Steve never showed signs of any emotions even close to the ones he was seeing now. Granted, he always breathed a visible sigh of relief when either himself or you would walk safety into their room and would spend the night telling both of you how much he loves you. But the former winter solider hadn't put the pieces together until just now.

PTSD.

An illness he knew all too well, how hadn't he seen it before?

He said nothing, he had no idea what to say, instead opting to bundle his broken boyfriend into his arms. Steve wept silently into Bucky's shirt, guilt eating away at him for what he'd done to their girl.

"I drove her away Buck, she's gone."

"Don't do that to yourself, she's still here, she's still our girl. I'll go talk to her," Bucky muttered, pulling away from Steve, leaving a gentle kiss in his blond locks. Steve tensed noticeably when Bucky's hand touched the door knob, tears beginning to spill from his eyes again.

"Bucky..."

Already knowing what his partner was asking, the brunet simply offered his outstretched arm with a tender smile. "Let's go see our girl, hey, Stevie?"

Steve smiled weakly as the two made their way to your room. Bucky caught a glance at Steve out of the corner of his eye, only just now noticing how hollow his face looked. How long had it been since he last ate?

"Stevie, honey, before we do this," Bucky whispered, taking both Steve's hands in his own, stopping outside your door, "I need to know when all this happened."

Steve said nothing, staring at the ground with a harsh swallow.

"Steve, please, baby..."

"Three days ago," he managed to choke out, the sound just loud enough to echo through the cold, ever expanding hallways of Stark tower.

Bucky felt a deep ache pounding at his chest. "Okay baby," he said softly, knowing what that meant for both of his love's wellbeing for the last three days, "we'll deal with that later."

Guilt began to well up within the brunet as he thought about what he had been doing for the last two weeks. Being a gun for hire? An overqualified spy? That was no competition to the time he spent with the both of you. You two were his everything, without you he would not exist. He would still be a weapon of HYDRA, a man unloved and forgotten, abandoned by all those accept war-crazed fanatics and murderers.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Bucky forced himself to repress his guilt, knowing you and Steve would need him now more than ever.

Steve... in all their years together Bucky had never seen him more heartbroken, even when Peggy died.

A metal hand left Steve's to rap two knuckles gently against your door. Bucky's flesh hand squeezed Steve's reassuringly.

"Y/N, sweetheart? I'm home."

No response was heard, save for the shuffling of linen on bare legs.

"Stevie is here with me, can we come in?"

You opened the door, your state as noticeably troubling to Bucky as Steve's.

A half-hearted nod was all the assurance the pair needed to shuffle themselves the few steps through the doorway into your room, Steve practically latching onto Bucky.

Bucky breathed in the scent of your room, almost having forgotten it during his mission. Cherry blossoms, milk and honey and old books. Three things he would forever treasure.

Steve, having released Bucky's hand, closed the door behind him, heart shattering as you caught his eye. Both of you had been through hell, neither realising it.

You sat tentatively on your bed, balling your hands up in the sleeves of your knitted grey sweater, goosebumps dancing up your bare legs. Normally you would be decked proudly from head to toe in either of your partner's clothes, usually stealing one of Steve's hoodies since they were larger and always smelt of him no matter how many times he washed them. Of home.

Over the last three days however, you had to physically restrain yourself from throwing on the only thing that bought you comfort.

You thought your relationship was over, he yelled at you after all- The one thing you had asked both of your boys since the very beginning of your relationship, hell, your friendship, never to do to you.

You were just trying to make the imminent separation easier on yourself, but god did you miss the comfort of Steve's jumpers. You always joked with him that it was like he was hugging you when you wore it.

Bucky had joined you by now, sitting at the foot of the bed, trying to respect your boundaries, giving you the space you had communicated you needed. He had been gone too long. All he wanted was to hold you and Steve in his arms and hear about how Tony nearly killed Thor for opening a portal to Asgard in his living room, or how Bruce blushed when an intern flirted with him during an interview. The soldier swallowed his sadness and instead turned his attention to Steve, more specifically his missing presence behind him.

He opened his mouth to comfort his lover, only to have the words robbed from his throat.

"Steve..." you breathed. You were upset, no doubt about that, but seeing him so broken, so vulnerable was something that scared you half to death.

The world would be shocked to see Captain America as he was in front of you now, more so to find out that he was usually the strongest emotionally out of you three. Sure you were all tough but Bucky's flashbacks can send him into a spiral for days and you, you couldn't even handle being yelled at by your boyfriend.

But you and Bucky knew him better, saw a side to the world's greatest superhero that no one else ever saw. Looking at him now, all you could see was a scrawny boy from Brooklyn, too nervous to even hold your hand, two months into dating.

"Steve, please...come here, baby." A flushed and tear stained face turned away from the door to meet your own. He moved hesitantly, in a way you'd never seen him act before, not even on a mission. Not even when Bucky didn't remember who either of you were or why you kept calling him 'James'.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I don't know what happened, you know I would never, Y/N, you know I would never," Steve rambled on, crawling into Bucky's arms, petrified of your rejection that he was sure was coming at any moment now.

Gingerly, you reached over to cup his cheek, wiping away tears that fell from his beautifully pale blue eyes. You loved those eyes, they meant safety, and despite the current circumstances, you felt safe. You always did with them.

You felt a hand on your cheek and involuntarily leaned into it, the familiar feeling of vibranium calming you as a thumb wiped away tears you didn't even know you had been crying.

"Stevie," Bucky whispered in the blond's ear, "it's okay, she's still here. Go to her, baby, our girl needs you, you need each other."

There was no hesitation in his actions this time, he launched forwards, practically knocking you off the bed. You managed to shuffle yourself into the middle of the matress and onto your back as one of the loves of your life sobbed and hiccuped into your shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

You squeezed your eyes shut, soaking Steve's strawberry scented hair as you cried with him.

Bucky, in some odd way felt comforted by his lover's crying together. He knew no matter what you three went through, war, destruction, loss, that you would always have each other.

Knees shuffling against sheets and bed creaking, he joined you at the head of your bed, embracing you both as though you would disappear, if he let go even for a second.

Half an hour passed before another word was spoken between any of you.

"Steve," you whispered, voice raw. The words stung your throat as you tried to settle your boyfriend's nerves, "I forgive you."

"No, Y/N don't. You shouldn't-"

"Steve, I forgive you. I understand why it happened and I know you didn't mean it. We just need to figure out a way to manage this when one of us is away."

"What do you mean 'this'?" Steve quizzed, lifting his head from the crook of your neck.

You and Bucky shared a knowing look over your shoulder. Your boyfriend smiled sadly at you and placed a reassuring kiss on your shoulder. "You tell him."

"Tell me what?" He whimpered.

You sighed heavily and let your head fall backwards onto the pillow before recomposing yourself.

"Steve, sweetheart. I..., we, think you have PTSD. You freaked out after Bucky went radio silent for a few days and I heard you talking in your sleep about Danube."

You paused, hesitantly, watching for any sign of a reaction from the blond.

"Can we talk about it in the morning?" He asked after a few moments, "I haven't held you in days..."

"Of course baby," Bucky answered contentedly for you both, worry washing off of him instantly, "come here love, you're in the middle tonight."

Steve crawled between you and Bucky, hands making fists in your shirt and head returning to the crook of your neck. You played with his hair and closed your eyes to rest a moment as Bucky's hand traced shapes along Steve's back.

Light snores were soon heard coming from Steve, happy he was finally calm, you opened your eyes only to be met with a pair of blue ones staring back at you.

"Hi."

"Hi," you whispered back smiling.

"I missed you so fucking much, I'm so sorry for putting you both through this..."

You shook your head as much as you possibly could with a 240lbs man sleeping practically on top of you. "I'm just so happy you're home."

"Right where I belong," your soldier smiled at you with a heart full of love.

He placed a kiss on Steve's head and draped a hand across both yours and Steve's waists, curling his front around the later's back. Closing his eyes, he let sleep wash over him.

That was all you needed to know that everything was going to be okay, and you always would be as long as you had your two superheroes by your side.

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

When They’re Whipped For You ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

The moment you heard that Jin had plans with the boys for the evening, your stomach dropped, turning to face him in confusion.

“I thought you agreed to come with me to the works dinner tonight?” You asked once he’d finished telling you all about what the boys had planned to do together.

“Oh,” he sighed, looking away from your eyes as a hand ran through his hair. “I can text the boys and cancel, I completely forgot about your dinner. We can always meet up another night when I’m free.”

You sighed at the panic in his voice, “I can go to the dinner by myself, it’s really no big deal.”

At your words, his head shook instantly, “there’s no way I’m going back on my promise to you. I’ll just tell the boys I didn’t check the calendar properly, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“It’s alright,” you laughed, walking across to him, “I know you’d much prefer to spend the evening with the boys instead of my colleagues, so just go with them.”

“I’m not going with the boys,” he continued to argue, “you’re the one I sorted things with first, and it’s you who I’ll spend my evening with too.”

“Damn Jin, you really are a sucker for me sometimes.”

Yoongi:

When Yoongi returned to the group with his basket full, all eyes flickered down to look at all of the things he’d purchased on his trip.

“I’m guessing those aren’t for you,” Jungkook giggled, shyly pointing to a box of tampons that sat on the top of his basket. “Has Y/N got you shopping for her now too?”

“She needs them,” Yoongi quickly defended, “and when you all get girlfriends, you’ll understand how difficult a period can be for them. She’s hardly in a state to be able to go to the shop herself.”

All of them rolled their eyes at how defensive he was, “you’re a sucker for her, she’s got you whipped.”

Yoongi’s head shook at Jimin’s words, “shopping for my girlfriend does not make me whipped, it just makes me a kind and caring boyfriend, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“If you’re not whipped, why are you arguing so badly?” Namjoon laughed back at him, “there’s nothing wrong with being whipped, I’m sure Y/N loves all the control too.”

“I know that none of you would ever say this in front of Y/N,” Yoongi sniggered, “but I could always record it for her if you guys wanted me to?”

“No way, she’d kill us if she knew what we said.”

Hoseok:

The squeal that came from you was huge as you walked into the kitchen to see a spider darting across the floor, calling out Hobi’s name quickly.

“Help,” you whimpered as he ran into the room, pointing to the insect. Straight away, Hobi ran over and placed his hands around it, taking it out into the garden.

“It’s gone,” he smiled, brushing his hands off before closing the door, spinning around to see a wide smirk plastered across your face. “Why are you looking at me like I’ve done something wrong?”

Your head shook, “you’ve done nothing wrong I just love seeing how whipped you are for me.”

“I’m not,” he protested, shaking his head back at you, “I just know how scared you are of stuff like this, so I thought I’d get it out before it managed to get away.”

Your eyebrows raised at his statement, “you’re usually terrified of spiders, and yet you caught that one without even thinking, that means you’re whipped.”

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, moving across the room to wrap his arms around you, “would you prefer it if I wasn’t whipped for you though?”

“No way, I love that you’ll do absolutely anything for me.”

Namjoon:

The guilt hit him as soon as he shook Yoongi awake, taking a step back as his eyes opened and glanced across at the clock beside him.

“Could you do me a favour?” Namjoon questioned from beside him, “I need someone to pick Y/N up from the club she’s at, I offered to get her, but I can’t really get there.”

“Really?” Yoongi frowned, “it’s four in the morning, why would you offer to get her when you can’t drive?” He sighed, “and why did I have to be the one that you decided to wake up at this time?”

Namjoon frowned across at him, “please, I can’t leave her there on the streets at a time like this.”

With a sigh, Yoongi sat himself up on his bed, “I know that you’d do absolutely anything for her, but that doesn’t mean that all of us would do anything for Y/N too Joon.”

“I know,” he admitted, “but I really do appreciate you doing this, I’ll find a way to make it up to you too, prove how grateful I am for what you’re doing.”

“Go and get my car keys and I’ll be down in five,” Yoongi instructed as he pushed the duvet away from his body, “but you do owe me a big one for this.”

“And I’ll pay you back for it, don’t you worry Yoongi.”

Jimin:

Your smile grew as you walked out of your office and saw Jimin sat outside of the building with the car door opened, waiting for you.

“You even get him to pick you up?” Your colleague chuckle from beside you, nudging gently at your side, “you really have got him wrapped around your finger.”

“I didn’t ask him to come and pick me up,” you laughed, meeting his eyes for the first time as he noticed you. “I guess he just enjoys doing all of these things for me instead.”

Your colleague sighed back at you, “he’s whipped for you, he really would do anything for you.”

A gentle blush found its way onto your cheeks, “I wouldn’t say no to a lift home in this weather anyway, it’s freezing. He’s a bit like a knight in shining armour really.”

“Maybe I need to find me a Jimin,” she teased, pushing you gently in the direction of the car. “Hurry, you don’t want to leave him waiting.”

“He’d wait all day for me,” you proudly smiled, “you really do need to find yourself a Jimin, it’s nice knowing that someone would do anything for you.”

“For you, he definitely would do absolutely anything!”

Taehyung:

The confusion on your expression grew as you tried to figure out where each screw went in attempting to build your new beside table.

“This is stupid,” you muttered under your breath, glancing back yet again to see if Taehyung had noticed you. “Who invents furniture with instructions as messed up as this.”

“Y/N,” he laughed from the sofa, “I know what you’re getting at, all you had to do was ask me for a hand and I would’ve come and helped you,” he sniggered, rolling his eyes at your obvious signs.

Your smile grew gently, “I really did want to try and figure it all out for myself before I asked you.”

His head shook as he sat down on the floor beside you, “there’s no way you would’ve done this by yourself, I know you wanted me to do this for you from the start.”

“No,” you argued, but as he stared back at you, you knew he could read you as if you were a book. “Did I really make it that obvious that I needed your help.”

“Yes,” he sniggered, “I just wanted to see how long it would take before you caved. One way or another, I was going to be the one building this unit.”

“In that case, I guess I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?”

Jungkook:

Throughout the entirety of the conversation over dinner that evening, Jungkook could only sit with a frown as he listened to their plans.

“Kook, you’ve been quiet,” Jin spoke up when he noticed the youngest staring off into the distance as they tried to arrange a time to all meet up again.

“I promised Y/N that we’d go out for dinner tonight,” he admitted, shyly looking away as the groans inevitably came from the rest of the boys that were sat around him.

Taehyung was the first to nudge against his side, “you only went out for dinner a few days ago?”

Jungkook nodded shamefully back at him, “there’s this restaurant she’s been dying to try, and we’ve finally got a reservation, I can’t go back on my word now.”

“What happened to the bro code?” Hobi teased, staring across at him, “are you bailing on us? Are we finally losing you to love and your relationship?”

“No,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in defence, “what if we switch dinner until tomorrow night, I’m available then without any plans, no doubt about it at all.”

“We might as well claim you before Y/N does.”

---

Masterlist

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chiwhorei · 4 years ago

Text

gun bunny

pairing: mafia!s. aizawa x fem!reader

genre: mafia!au, quirkless!au, smut- 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.5k

warning: somnophilia, voyeurism, violence, attempted kidnapping, attempted assault, mentions of blood, mentions of guns and knives, degradation, age-gap (reader is 19 and aizawa is 31), spitting

a/n: hello! this is my contribution to the smut pile mafia!server collab, this is both my first smut pile collab (this is so late i am so sorry sksksksk) and my first full-length bnha piece, be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work here! thank you to @10millionyearsdungeon and @messwriting for your constant support while i trudged through sad pal hours for a fucking month and crawled out of the pits of writer’s block

hymns: hayloft by - mother mother, i’m on fire - awolnation cover

Blood pours over decades like syrup, the tinny-sweet smell was distinct but all too familiar. A muffled gun’s buzzing frames 19 years of life. The barrel feels cool, sitting precariously by the highest angle of your cheekbone.

“I told you not to cause trouble, brat. Now I have to clean up your little mess.”

Aizawa’s body is tall and broad above you, holding you against him with a protective grip on the small of your back. Every word is sneering, punctuated with a growl-- you feel it reverberate against his chest.

The bullet is resounding even through the silencer; a deafening sound, final bell tolling next to smeared streaks of mascara.

Aizawa Shouta has always been around-- whether bringing your dad a hefty stack of reports to thumb through or loosening his tie in the parlor and toasting him to another job well done. A carousel of chauffeurs and bodyguards encircle you, but all are nameless faces except for the man that can make people disappear in an instant: Eraser.

Otsuka y/n, the only daughter of the most powerful man in Japan, is a weighty title against your shoulders. Your father’s reputation has cradled you for almost two decades, keeping you draped in fur and balancing on red-bottoms. He has more money, more power than God. To most of your father’s inner circle, you are the dutiful, angelic heiress to his blood-soaked empire. You play the part well enough, polite, temperate- your hands are painted red in culpability, but perfectly manicured.

Your father’s business isn’t a secret, no matter his attempts to shield you over the years. There’s only so many nights spent humming to the tune of cracking skulls in the next room before “investments in oil” starts to lose its validity. Whenever you ask him, he pats your head, smoothing stray strands of hair, “I do it all for you, bunny. Everything is for you.”

You decide not to think about rouge splatters of blood and bruises against his knuckles, ignoring the clicking of a loading gun before he leaves for the office.

It’s better this way.

“You can’t be serious, Otsuka.” Aizawa paces across the hardwood, heel to toe with Italian leather from one large bookshelf to the other. A familiar habit, you’ve seen the contemplative marching before and know it to mean one thing: Aizawa is pissed.

“Have you ever known me to joke around? Especially with y/n?” Your father’s elbows hit the table in front of him, the jagged scars lining his face seem even more intimidating when coupled with a harshly set frown. You perch on the side of his large desk, swinging your feet lightly.

“Oh daddy, I’m not a child. I don’t need Eraser to babysit me.” You huff, crossing your arms and providing a pout to your father’s hard expression. You hear the mumbled, “Don’t call me that,” from behind you, but decide against a response.

“He’s going to look after you while I’m in Musutafu. I have to handle some…” he trails off slightly, one of his hands coming up to rub against his bald head, “noncompliance, but I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few days.” His disfigured fingers curling around yours, you look up to meet his eye, “Be a good girl, bunny.”

You give your father’s temple a kiss, pulling back to smile sweetly. Your next words have Aizawa snorting, rolling his eyes far enough into his skull to be painful.

“I always am.”

A bend downwards at the hips frames your ass perfectly, the lace of your panties curls around your pussy tightly, hooking against the lips and showcasing your soft skin. Questions swirl in the bowl of cereal in front of him, all but forgotten as soon as a cup“fell” from your fingers and clattered to the floor. The taste, the smell, the feeling of--

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Aizawa is ripped from the reprehensible desires of his senses to meet your eyes, your form still folded over on itself and displayed for Aizawa in the otherwise empty kitchen. You giggle at his scowl, snapping back up and smoothing out your skirt. Aizawa bites down on the spoon in between his teeth, he swears he can feel his teeth cracking. Better his canines than his will.

This only marks the beginning of a long week for your father’s right-hand man. The proceeding days turn to nights at a snail's pace. The past week has been inching towards disaster with every minute of alone time you could steal with Aizawa.

“Eraser, what are you doing up so late.” Your voice curls around his shoulder, the whine tugging him towards your open bedroom door. It’s late, far too late for you to be up to anything good.

You always like to push your luck, playing a game you know Aizawa won’t let himself win. Pressing firmly against the line but never pointing your heel across. Maintaining your immunity, feigning innocence behind a soft pout. Your appointed guardian isn’t fooled by any honeyed façade you build around his associates. He knows what you are at the core.

He tries to shake off your pull, but the way your voice lilts against the long hallway is magnetic. The past few nights have been the same song and dance, your disarming call to him as he trudges to one of the many guest bedrooms. Every night he gets closer, heavy feet and tense nerves guiding him towards your warm voice. He’s weathering a sea, you’re the siren hell-bent on his drowning.

“I told you not to call me that, little girl.” His response to your wanton call is shallow, the nickname is one he hates the sound of, especially rolling past your lips.

“Do you like what you see?”

Aizawa’s brows set harshly as he looks on to where you lie nestled in pillows and silk. You have nothing but a loose, light pink camisole to cover your body, cotton panties pulled down to your ankles with shameless intent. Your legs are spread wide for your viewer’s pleasure, two fingers brush against your lips, dragging lazily- up and back down.

Aizawa knows what you really are, a petulant brat.

You pull at the soft skin, spreading yourself to unveil the tight, clenching hole. He leans his shoulder against the jam, eyes drinking you in where his body shamefully wishes to be. The groan aching deeply in his chest is not lost on you as your other hand pulls the hem of your shirt upwards to catch in between your teeth.

The soft plush of your breasts bounces slightly, nipples peeking out from the folds of fabric, now fully exposed to the inky-black stare of your voyeur. There’s nothing left to his imagination now, the question that haunts sleepless nights, palming a large hand up and down his cock and imagining something softer and smaller. The picture of what his boss’s precious daughter would look like squirming under him becoming clearer beyond all reason.

Aizawa should turn heel and walk away, he should slam your bedroom door shut and count the days until your father’s return with a measured distance. He should walk away. He should-

A soft whimper drags him from contemplation and back to the writhing succubus center stage. Your fingers move quickly against your aching clit, drawing out babbled pleas to hit harshly against the tall, brooding presence at your door.

“I’ve had about enough of your games, bunny. Your father tasked me to keep you out of trouble, but you are the trouble.” Aizawa’s words hit your ears mockingly, but they sound more like an invitation than a warning, especially as his body inches forward, breaching the threshold of your bedroom inch by inch.

Two fingers slip past your lips, pushing in and drawing back slicked with arousal. You repeat the action, slowly, ensuring the boring set of eyes are trained on where you clench desperately; wanting to put on a good show with your bodyguard in the front row.

Aizawa’s head is swimming, dizzy and drunk. He wants to tear you apart, to lay claim to the twitching prize between your legs. If you struggle around two of your own much smaller fingers, it would be nearly impossible to wrap you around his thick cock.

That is, not without breaking you.

The heated pants escaping you pick up in canter, your audience winding a tight cord with his presence alone. Aizawa is unrelenting in his deep, unblinking stare, stepping towards your bed slowly. Once his body is looming over you, the coil in your stomach has turned into a hair pinned trigger.

“Such a messy little slut. Getting off to the attention aren’t you?” You’re rendered dumb at his comment, Aizawa barely has to press his thumb into your chin before your mouth hangs open. You look up with glassy eyes, fingers sore from working against your pussy, chasing a high you can only imagine how fast Aizawa could steal from you. His expression is as neutral as always, but the despondency doesn’t quite shadow the fire burning in his eyes. You watch him lean forward slightly, a string of saliva falling downward to land against your tongue. His spit feels hot, you can taste the remnants of cigar and mint gum as you swallow.

You come undone in a litany of cries, pleading with your captor. His hold is passive as he looks at you, watching you cum against your fingers, the squelching sounds make his mouth dry. The only source of hydration is at the apex of your thighs. Visions flash before his eyes, images of what the curve of your breasts look like as he’s buried tongue deep, lapping you up post-orgasm and pushing you over once more for good measure.

Aizawa retreats, lest he pulls you against his mouth while your cunt is still pulsating, he needs to escape before your knees are pressed to your shoulders. He slams your door closed harshly, leaving you with the taste of his contempt for you on your bottom lip.

You’re quick to sleep, body falling into the warmth of unconsciousness coupled with dreams of what a certain set of fingers would feel like against you. How the scars and calluses would brush against your most intimate inches of spongy flesh, how he would stretch you.

You can almost feel the soreness in between your legs and the heavy slap of something against your stomach. You can almost remember the whispered confessional swimming in the back of your head, the soft grunts from above your sleeping form. As sunlight stretches across your sleep-stiff body, your hand trails down over your naked skin, maybe you aren’t the only one playing games this week.

You could have almost sworn you had gone to sleep with panties on.

The car ride to your father’s bar was filled with unflattering tension. You had protested in vain that going with Aizawa wasn’t necessary, but had been met with a dismissive, “I don’t trust you to behave.”

“I’m not a child, Eraser. I don’t see why I couldn’t just sit at home.” You wobble behind your escort, heeled boots clacking against the gravel.

As you enter the building, a young mop of violet hair flanks Aizawa down with a stack of papers. The man is nameless to you but is familiar enough to be assumed under your father’s thumb.

Aizawa looks over the document’s now held in front of him with care, rolling up the sleeves to his crisp dress shirt as his eyes scan the pages. You note the shimmering silvered skin of a scar under his left eye, pronounced by the harsh lighting surrounding you. His hair is held up partially by a tie, the loose strands framing his face.

“Are you listening to me, little girl?” You're snapped back from watching his mouth curling around syllables to actually make out what they’ve been saying.

“Go sit down, I’ll only be a few minutes.” You nod along and turn to perch at the bar, but stop at the grip pulling you back for one final order. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Aizawa leaves you to stew in the subtle brush of his pointer finger against the tender skin of your wrist, he rubs the skin subtly before disappearing to the back rooms.

The minutes ticking by are agonizing. Aizawa, usually the epitome of brief, has been gone long enough for the condensation on your glass to mar the wood below it in countless ringlets. You twirl the straw against the strawberry liquor, willing time to crank by faster with the action. The drink in your veins isn’t nearly enough to get you drunk but does make the opening of the front door unnoticeable.

Your back is facing the heavy wood, unaware of the two strangers now approaching until the curdling sound of one man’s voice hits the shell of your ear.

“Well, well, look what we have here. Why don’t I buy you a drink, princess?” Each man steals one of your sides, enclosing you into a tight, predatory huddle.

“This is my bar. I don’t need you to buy me anything.” You try to shake off the nauseating feeling of their bodies so close to you, gut twisting uncomfortably as one man’s breath crawls across your shoulder blades. They’re both so close. Too close.

“Wow, this little kitty cat’s got some claws, don’t she?” You feel hands curl around each bicep, a bruising grip right below your armpits. Your body is hoisted up, your balance off at the jarring upheaval.

Possible escape routes flash across your mind but all seem impossible. Would trying to shake off the still faceless strangers even work? And even if you sprung free, would you make it to the back office before they caught up? Should you try to scream? Would Aizawa hear you?

Before you can make any moves, you feel the flat side of a knife at your collarbone. A chill rattles down your spine at the contact, two inches of metal keeping your entire body compliant.

Their intent is clear, you’ll be coming with them, and by the sharp point of a blade digging into the first layer of skin-- you’ll be coming quietly.

A mixture of shock and disbelief compels your body into compliance, dragging you to the front door and closer towards an awaiting trunk.

“Your carriage, princess.” You hear the shorter man on your right, his voice at your neck sounds waterlogged through the blood rushing in your ears. Any protests die at the knife against your skin, digging in shallowly and pricking a small trail of red along your clavicle.

A sharp snap sounds behind you, like a piece of thin wood under a heavy boot. One of your captors falls in a pile next to you. You’re turned around to meet a familiar pair of venomous, black eyes, Aizawa’s words roll from his tongue with a growl.

You’re pulled at the wrist, stumbling back into the strong chest of your appointed bodyguard.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my bunny?”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#aizawa smut #aizawa x reader smut #aizawa x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #shouta aizawa #tw: somnophilia #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: weapons

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allexthakatt · 3 years ago

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The Very First Kiss 🖤

not my gif^^ GIF IS BY @oneweirdcryptid

Request: "Hi so uhhh I was wondering (if you're not busy) can you do a fem!Reader x Dan avidan with lots of fluff pls (also if you can make my prompt anonymous I will love u forever)"

I'm so happy to finally be writing about Dan again. God that man is so fucking beautiful.

Just an FYI. Ashley is NOT a thing in this universe. I will not ever put her in a one shot.

Pairing: Dan Avidan x FEM Reader! Ft. Arin and Brian!

Warnings? Pure fluff! Mutual pining.

"Look. All I'm saying is that she's really cute and I wouldn't mind having her at the office more often." Dan almost immediately regretted what came from his mouth. Now he'll never hear the end of it.

Dan, Arin, and Brian had gone out for lunch to brainstorm what could be done for future projects when the topic of Suzy's best friend came up. Y/n, a beautiful woman who's captivated Dan heart from day one, was all he could think about. I mean how could he not? Just look at her! Everything about was just so... amazing. It had been a very long time since Dan felt this way about anyone. She was so sweet to him, he just couldn't help but swoon.

"I fuckin knew it! Ive been calling it since day. One. You've had goo goo eyes for her since the day Suzy brought to the house!" Arin smirked at his long time best friend.

Dan thinks of that day often. She was invited to some party Arin and Suzy were throwing. What it was for, he can't recall. What he does remember, however, is seeing a gorgeous girl wearing a black dress and flats. Her nails long and red to go with her newly dyed fire engine red hair. He remembers just how stupid he made himself seem attempting to talk smoothly to her. But she never made him feel dumb, in fact quite the opposite. She was shorter than him, obviously, and Dan caught himself shamefully thinking of her shorter body in his lap on his couch. Since then he's fantasized about kissing her almost daily. (Not just kissing, either. He'd shamefully admit to himself.) However the fear of her rejecting him almost too paralyzing for him to even try.

"So Dan when are you gonna pull your head out of ass and ask her on a date?"

The curly haired male shakes his head. "I doubt she'd even say yes. I like having her in my life. And if she says no I could lose her all together. I'd honestly rather not risk it ya know?" Brian practically spits out his drink, trying to hold in a laugh.

"You're telling you don't see the heart eyes she sends your way all the time? You're dumber than you look, jewfro." Arin cracked a chuckle at that, deciding to add in the conversation. "He's right, Dan. She probably talks about you to Suzy just as much as you bug us about her!"

"Ha ha very funny. Well then maybe I just should walk up to her and say 'hey baby. You. Me. Pizza. Tonight. Lets do it.' Yea fucking right, Arin."

In reality, y/n would love nothing more than to have a nice date with Dan Avidan himself. She has quite the school girl crush on him (or at least that's how Suzy puts it.)

"Why not? Everyone knows she'll say yes. Even if you don't, trust me we do." Brian was trying to pep talk his friend into just doing it. I mean come on Dan is almost 42 he needs to get a girl soon. Or at least laid.

It had been a couple days since the lunch talk. Dan had been running the boys' words though his head non stop. Should he really just ask her out? The odds of her saying yes was getting better and worse simultaneously. So many worries and anxieties swarming through his mind constantly. But he knows he needs to do something soon. She's absolutely breathtaking- someone will swoop in if he doesn't. But what he even say?

'Hey Y/n!' -No. Too loud.

'What's up, baby?' -absolutely not. Too cocky.

'You look lonely'- that's just creepy.

What if he just doesn't think? Thinking too much will make him not do it. So what does he do? For gods sake, he's a grown man! Get it together! That's when he gets an idea and calls his best friend.

"Arin I need to know what her favorite candy is. ASAP!"

It was cold and rainy today. Her favorite type of day. It was days like this where she would find herself sitting near an open window with all the lights off, a stereo playing soft music as she sips some hot tea she'd prepared just minutes ago. The music playing some random song from her playlist. She couldn't be more calm than in this moment. Nothing could take her away from the calamity that is this scene.

Until a knock breaks the mood.

The young woman groans and puts her tea down, mentally cursing whoever broke her away from the state she was just in. However she couldn't be mad for long as she opens her door, seeing Dan standing on the porch, hair slightly damp and frizzy. She notes that he's also panting a little. From what, she's not aware.

"Oh, hi Dan! Come in, it's cold out here." He thanks her and tries his best to dry his feet before stepping in the home. It was so warm in there. A very calm and welcoming energy captivating the whole house. Suddenly, he doesn't feel so nervous.

"I uh... Brought these for you. I hope you like roses, that's all I could find. I know you love carnations but they didn't have any." Dan hands her the roses as well as a heart shaped box of Reese's. Her favorite candy.

"Why thank you! What's the occasion?" She can't say she's complaining. However she is confused. Although this is a very romantic gesture, y/n doesn't want to get her hopes up.

"Well I... just wanted to ask you something. I've been psyching myself up for a few days now... A-and I think I should just tell you straight up. Y/n, I can't get you out of my head. Every time I see you, all I wanna do is kiss you, hug you, or some other form of affection. And I promise I'm not a creep! I just have these real strong feelings for you... And I just gotta know... Would you feel the same? I totally understand if you don't. Just promise me if you don't we wont stop being friends. I like having you around in my life and I'm so scared of fucking this up. ...

Please. Say something."

To say Y/n was shocked would be an understatement. You can't count on all your fingers and toes how many times she'd fantasized about this. How many times she'd laid in bed and thought about a life with Dan. With Dan as hers and she as his. But no matter how many times she'd fantasized, nothing came close to how she actually feels in this moment.

"Dan... Are you being serious? Please don't tell me this is a prank." She had a hopeful look in her face. So very afraid that this was a joke or even worse: just a dream.

"Y/n I promise I'm being serious. I-I get so happy when I'm with you. You're so beautiful and funny and smart... There's a million and one things I wanna do with you. Share with you. But please just tell me if I'm in way over my head here. I just... I need to know."

Y/n did the one thing she knew would drive it home. She put her arm around his neck, pulling him close. Dan stared at her with big hopeful brown eyes. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting this." The smile on her face was proof enough for him. He pulled her even closer, relishing in her sweet scent of lavender and a hint of vanilla, the shampoo and conditioner he'd got her in her birthday a few weeks ago. "If you'll let me.. I'd really like to kiss you now." And that was it. That was all Y/n needed to have her heart practically explode out of pure excitement. The way she leaned in, waiting for him to get the hint to meet her halfway. The way she slowly closed her eyes, lips practically begging to be kissed. Dan had had enough of waiting. If he'd waited a moment longer he was sure he'd pass out.

Before she knew it, their lips connected. A whole new slur of emotions hitting them all at once. She'd only dreamt of this so many times. The feeling of his soft yet rough lips on hers mixed with his scruff and cologne, it made her dizzy with adrenaline. If he wasn't pulling her so close, she was sure her legs would give out.

Dan felt like he was in heaven. There was no way any form of drug could compare to the way her lips made him feel. Lust. Love. Excitement. Adrenaline. God, his mind was pure mush. When they finally pulled away, faces flushed and hearts pounding. Dan finally remembered the question he was originally here for.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

------------------------

THERE YOU HAVE IT! I'm so sorry this took so long. Life has been wild. As a mom and a working wife, things have gotten a little hectic.

Please send more!!

If you'd like to request you can private message me, or leave an ask! If you'd want to be tagged in future works, you need to only ask!

Luv u all 🤍🖤

#dan avidan #dan avidan x reader #dan avidan x you #game grumps #ninja sex party #fanfic #xreader

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notkageyamasprincess · 3 years ago

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glad you came | kageyama tobio x reader

request: big brother!kegeyama walking in on the reader touching themselves .. 😁

notes: a huge thank you to jodie (@keijidearest ) for being my beta, a hundred kisses fo you, muah muah <33

characters: nii-chan!kageyama tobio x reader

genre/warnings: smut, incest, slight voyeurism, mention of dacryphilia, mutual masturbation, corruption kink, slight degradation, breeding kink

words: 2.2k

summary: tobio-nii finally finds out that his adorable little sister feels the same way

As always, your parents weren’t at home—that much was expected. But today, even Tobio would be out until late. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when you walked into your empty husk of a house. It was so lonely ever since your older brother started spending more time on campus, and you had no choice but to comfort yourself the only way you knew how.

The bedroom door didn’t quite close all the way behind you, but you disregarded it, knowing nobody would be home to disrupt you anyways. You flopped onto the bed, and wiggled out of your bottoms, one hand creeping beneath your waistband while the other clutched your phone to browse raunchy sites. Although you took in the obscene videos, racy comics, and filthy erotica, your mind drifted to Tobio, wishing that he’d take the place of the men in all those scenarios, comforting you in person rather than leaving you alone at your time of need. Settling into your blankets, you began taking care of the ache in your core, back arching off the mattress as you slowly worked yourself up to your high. The room gradually filled up with the sounds of your heavy breathing, slick noises of your arousal, and the familiar creak of the bed as you shifted around.

Unbeknownst to you, Tobio was on the other side of the wall, quietly taking care of his own needs, stroking his length to match your rhythm. He seriously lucked out today; he didn’t think he would ever have the opportunity to catch you at a vulnerable moment like this, unsuspectingly letting out your sweet moans for him to hear. When practice got cancelled, he went straight home and took a nap, only to wake up to the sounds of your self-pleasuring. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on his precious little sister, really. Yet, how could he let this chance pass him by?

As he gripped his cock, your brother felt his balls tighten much quicker than usual. He wasn’t expecting his innocent sister to sound so...so lewd. His orgasm was coaxed on by how slutty you sounded as you moaned, how sopping wet he reckoned you were just through the noise of you fucking yourself. Before long, he felt himself shudder as he shot out his load. Never had he cum so early, the embarrassment enveloping him as he realized what had had him so worked up to begin with. Your soft whines remained in the background as Tobio slumped down and began cleaning himself off.

As his post-orgasmic bliss dissipated, a sense of guilt and disgust grew within him, as though he had violated you himself. He laid an arm over his eyes and exhaled deeply.

A few more seconds passed, and he shamefully emerged from his room, intending to wash up in the bathroom when something made him stop in his tracks.

“N-nii-chan…feels good!”

Erotic fantasies of your brother fuelled your lust while you touched yourself. Instead of your own hands, you imagined that it was his large palms caressing your breasts, and his long fingers stretching you out, loosening your entrance for his thick cock. Your gasps and whimpers grew louder as you gave in to the pleasure, but you didn’t care, chanting your brother’s name as you came.

Lost in a euphoric trance, your eyes remained squeezed shut, allowing him to slip into your room unnoticed.. The moment his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he was captivated by the sight of your limp form splayed out on the bed. His ravenous gaze traveled across the expanses of exposed skin, pausing briefly on the rise and fall of your chest and your spasming pussy. He swallowed before revealing his presence.

“____, was that…my name?”

Upon hearing his voice, your eyes snapped open, and you yelped. Panic welled up inside you as you sprang up and hastily covered yourself.

Thoughts of possible consequences raced through your mind. No more hair ruffles, no more head pats, no more words of praise. He’d no longer swing by your school to treat you to lunch when he was between classes. You could definitely say goodbye to him picking you up from the bus stop after dark.

“Tobio-nii! I- how long have you been standing there?”

Now you’d gone and done it. He must be repulsed by you. No one should have been in the house, nobody should have been there to catch you, so how was this happening?

“Not important. I’d rather talk about how you were just masturbating while thinking about me.”

Blood rushed to his dick as the scene he walked in on replayed in his head, and your cute noises echoed in his mind. His shock quickly shifted into frustration: frustration that he had to conceal his possessiveness when you gave your attention to another boy, frustration that he had to control his urges when you pranced around the house in your ratty drawstring shorts, or that he had to avert his eyes when your nipples poked out from your thin sleepshirt.

Frustration that he had to live through hell hiding his feelings for you when his dear sister was exactly the same way.

“You mean to tell me,” he started, taking calculated steps towards you, “That this entire time we could have been taking care of each other? The fuck did I jerk off in the shower for?”

Huh? You were stunned and relieved, but there was no time for you to hold back your tears. Unable to process what he said, you peered up at him with watery eyes.

Thinking that he frightened you by raising his voice, his eyes widened in alarm. He gathered you into his arms and stroked the back of your head. “Whoa, hey, hey, don’t cry, angel. I didn’t mean to get angry with you; I got too excited back there.”

“No, that’s not it. I-I thought you would hate me, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I could never hate you, ____. You’re so precious to me that I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else putting their hands on you where mine should be.”

Pulling back, you looked into his eyes for confirmation. “Really? Because I always hated your girlfriends for stealing my place.”

“You’re so cute, but I promise you have nothing to worry about at all. I didn’t want them like I wanted you.” You felt him guide your hands to his groin, where his dick was nearly popping out from his boxers. “Do you feel that? Feel how hard I am? You made me this way.”

Your heart swelled with pride knowing that he loved you more than he did any of those whores, and seeing him so worked up, all for you brought back the familiar tingle between your legs that only your Nii-chan knew how to soothe. Freeing him from his pants, you watched in wonder as his cock stood at attention, leaking precum from the tip. Tobio’s breathing grew heavier from your touch.

“____? Do you think you could do Nii-chan a favour?” His ears reddened in mortification. Despite the fact that he had cum earlier, all he wanted to do was shove his cock into you and fuck you silly. “I got turned on when you were crying,” he groaned and covered his face. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t react that way, but you’re just so cute.”

On the contrary, you were really happy that he found you so endearing.. “Don’t be sorry, Tobio-nii,” you reassured, shaking your head. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Tobio kneeled at the foot of your bed and gripped his length, grateful that you were willing to help him out. “Could you remove the blankets and show me your pretty body?”

The idea of baring yourself to him made you flustered. But if it was your brother, asking you so politely for help, you wouldn’t mind displaying your most vulnerable parts. Glancing at his hopeful expression, you peeled back the covers.

“So good, baby. Now open your legs and touch yourself for me.”

Again, you bashfully complied, spreading yourself and angling your hips to give him a better view. The way he watched you made you searing hot; he gazed at you with lust blown pupils, eyeing you like a starved wolf as he fisted his cock.

You were fixated on his dick, curiously observing the rosy colour of the tip, the slender shaft, the slight curvature upwards, and the vein running down the middle. It was the first time you’d seen one. Heat pooled in your centre when you thought about taking him in your mouth.

“Nii-chan? Can I try sucking you off?”

“What?” he panted. “You don’t—ah, fuck—have to. I can’t make you do that.”

Leaning forward on your hands, you stared at him in earnest. “I want to.”

His face scrunched up as he weighed his options, but a quick glance at your glossy plump lips was all he needed to succumb.

After he agreed, you held him gently, noting how your hand barely wrapped around the girth of it, and how it felt so much thicker and heavier than it looked.Experimentally, you eagerly licked the sides, lapping at the precum that dribbled down his length, then you wrapped your lips around him. Paying close attention to his instructions, you gingerly massaged his balls and inched him further down your throat. “Yes, yes just like that. Now swallow.”

He tugged at your hair, pushing himself deeper, alternating between looking down at you, and closing his eyes in ecstasy. Your jaw was sore, and your throat was starting to burn, but you couldn’t help but moan at the disheveled state he was reduced to. Your cunt clenched around nothing, pulsating with desire.

Tobio’s eyebrows knitted together, loving the sight of you gagging on his dick. He’d always dreamed of defiling you like this; he felt so dirty, but so good.

“Shit, you’re making your Tobio-nii feel so amazing. I’m gonna cum soon.”

You desperately longed for him to cum on your tongue, but even more than that, you wanted him to alleviate your aching core, so you reluctantly pulled your lips off of him. “Mm, wait! Not yet.” You spread your lower lips apart, looking at him with need. “Please. In here.”

Tobio regarded your fucked out expression and your dripping hole, deciding to satisfy you against his better judgement. His cute sister was begging so sweetly for him, so how could he deny your request? Besides, he wanted it just as badly.

“Yeah? You’re gonna give your virginity to Nii-chan? Gonna let your big brother fuck his seed deep into your slutty pussy?”

His filthy words caused you to shiver, yet, he was soothing and gentle as he slipped his cock inside, pushing the head in little by little, pausing until you were ready for more. He moved only the tip back and forth, parting your opening, coating his dick with your juices.

The stretch hurt a little as he inched in deeper, but there was no one other than your beloved Nii-chan you’d rather lose your virginity to. You knew he respected you enough that you could even call it off there, and he would stop without any questions. There was no doubt that he would treat you better than anyone else you could’ve had your first time with.

When you finally nodded to him, he eased in the rest of his length, and he sucked in a breath when your cunt squelched, accepting him in hungrily. He waited a few more seconds before thrusting slowly. Once you gave him the okay, he increased the pace steadily until he was slamming his cock in and out.

His cock reached places inside you that you were never able to reach with your fingers, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. You felt so full, so complete.

Tobio nearly spilled into you when he directed his gaze to the spot where the two of you were connected. Your cunt squeezed him like it didn’t want him to pull out and painted him in a creamy white substance. He was addicted to seeing you losing yourself on his dick as he split you open.

Pressing on the back of your thighs, he pushed you deeper into the mattress and shoved his length even deeper. Your brother enjoyed the feeling of corrupting you, wiping you clean of every man that came before him and ruining you for every man that would come after him. That is, if you would ever want another man after he’d had his way with you.

Feeling your pussy tighten, he slid a hand between your bodies and grinded the heel of his palm against your nub, forcing an orgasm out of you, and spurted his viscous cum inside. He pumped his cock a few more times before pulling out, admiring his handiwork when his cum leaked out from your convulsing hole. Rather than let it drip onto the sheets, he lifted your pelvis to place a pillow underneath, then collected his release with his fingers, only to push it deep inside you again. Contently, he plugged you back up with his cock, brushed some hair out of your face, and pecked you tenderly on the forehead.

You laid there, basking in each other’s warmth, filling the void in each other’s heart.

Tobio nosed the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “Mine.”

a/n: well, well, well... tobio-nii makes a comeback

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu dark content #kageyama smut #kageyama tobio smut #kageyama x reader #cw:incest #kageyama tobio x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #jia writes

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years ago

Text

Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 9

Chapter 8

Read on AO3

Claire was pacing in the drawing room, back and forth, back and forth.

“If it’s very much longer, you’ll have to tie me up.”

“Now, now,” Louise tutted. “That’s in your head. Two weeks is not so very long. It’s only because you know it’s the end of the last day.”

“And because Johnny isn’t here,” Isobel supplied. “I know he was a great help to you.”

Claire let out a frustrated growl, animalistic in nature. Something that would have frightened Jamie if he were here.

Jamie.

“There’s more pig’s blood,” Louise said. “I’ll let you lick it off my nipples if you want.”

Claire buried her face in her hands, swallowing thickly. The idea was tempting. Yes, John had been helpful, as had Louise, and hell, even Isobel. John had let Claire have her way with him the whole two weeks, with and without animal blood involved. She’d smeared it all over his chest, his cock, his lips, and licked it off like the savage she was. They’d brought in Louise when she was particularly insatiable, and then when John and Hal had left for business the previous night, Louise brought Isobel in. The three of them had only been together once, and that had been years ago. Hal didn’t like to share.

But what Hal didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Now, Claire wanted to cry at the thought, and she would if she could.

“I don’t want fucking pig’s blood,” she spat. “And I don’t want you either.”

Louise sighed.

“I’m sorry…” Claire amended, the edge still in her voice. “I know you mean well.”

“No, I understand.”

“All I can bloody think about is his cock…”

“Isobel can use the godemiché again…”

“No!”

Isobel actually jumped, the poor thing.

“I want him. Nothing else will work anymore! Don’t you understand?” She gripped tufts of hair, then immediately regretted mussing her hair, knowing he’d be back soon. “We’d get into it, I’d have your face in my cunt and blood in my throat and I’d never actually finish. And then I’d start breaking furniture out of frustration.”

“Mon Dieu,” Louise sighed. “You really are too far gone.”

“Fucking yes!” Claire spat. “Fuck!”

“Your hair, dear. Do you want me to fix it?” Isobel offered timidly.

“Yes. Fuck. Yes.”

“Come here. It’s alright.”

Claire scampered over to her shamefully, much like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“You want to look your best when he comes back to you, don’t you?” Isobel crooned, not unlike a mother, or an older sister.

Claire nodded mutely, desperately trying to calm herself. Louise took one of her hands and kissed a trail all the way up to her neck. Against her will, she relaxed into each kiss, savoring the feeling of soft skin in the crook of her neck.

And yet, she longed for his harsh stubble.

There had been days where Claire had been with John, and she longed for the softness of Louise, the pillows of her breasts, the wetness of her cunt.

Today was unfortunately not one of those days.

“It will be alright,” Louise breathed against her skin. “It will be over soon.”

Isobel nodded, pushing pins back into place.

“Your eyes are not a good color,” Isobel said. “You really should have pig’s blood. Just a little bit.”

“I’ll gag,” Claire said, rather petulantly.

“Yes, well, it won’t actually come back up. And you know that.” Louise left her side, standing up to fill a glass for her. “Just a little bit.”

Claire grimaced, taking the glass. “Just a little bit.”

She stared at it, waiting for the bloodlust to become so unbearable that drinking it would be more of a relief than a chore. She finally downed it in one swig, and she did, in fact, gag.

“Good girl,” Louise crooned, patting her cheek. “Think of how much sweeter he’ll taste after that.”

Claire nodded, her face still scrunched up in disgust.

“Do you at least feel a little better?” Isobel rubbed her knee.

“A bit.”

Isobel smiled sweetly, then chastely kissed her cheek. “Just think, Claire. How wonderful it is to have something that makes being parted from it so terrible.”

Claire met her eye, smiling reluctantly. “It is…refreshing. To say the least.”

“Life-affirming, I’d say,” Isobel added.

“Yes…life-affirming.” Claire’s soul felt lighter.

“It can be so tedious,” Louise sighed. “Eternity.”

The other women nodded in agreement.

“I won’t say I’m not jealous,” Louise went on. “Not of him,” she giggled. “I know I’ll have you either way.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Claire said. “I haven’t mentioned that to him yet.”

“Well, he’s done well with the other shocks thus far,” Isobel said, stifling her own giggle. “I’m sure he’ll take that in stride as well.”

As if to assert herself, Louise nipped at Claire’s earlobe, and she squealed, swatting at her.

“But, no…jealous of you,” Louise went on. “I’ve had drop after drop of man after man…and nothing has ever snapped into place like it has with you.”

“In truth, I’m almost glad,” Isobel confessed. “After Hector and John…I can’t imagine having the bond and then it just…snapping. I’m not strong enough.”

Claire felt her dead heart drop into her stomach.

“Not that anything will happen to your Jamie!” Isobel stammered. “I didn’t mean…!”

“No…I couldn’t bear it either,” Claire said, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know how John did it. I’d beg him to rip my head from my fucking shoulders if something happened to Jamie.”

“Well, it won’t,” Isobel amended quickly, clearly not wanting to discuss someone taking Claire out of this world. “All I meant was I’d be so afraid every moment, I couldn’t appreciate it. You know me. Always fretting.”

Fuck, she needed him. She needed him next to her, safe and alive and whole.

Nothing was wrong. She’d instantly know if his life was ended. She’d feel it, sharper than a knife and more scorching than the pyre from years ago.

But anything could happen any second. She needed him with her, his warmth, his pulse. She needed to preserve it. For as long as she could.

“I’ve made it worse again,” Isobel squeezed Claire’s hand. “I’m sorry, dear.”

“No, no…” She shook her head. “I just…I need him.”

“I know.”

And then, like a miracle, she heard a carriage.

It was probably a mile away, but she heard it.

“Do you–”

“I do.”

They all three stood up and scampered into the main hallway, heels clicking on the marble. Geillis and Mary came shortly after, still wearing sunhats, gloves and aprons, having been in the greenhouse. Geillis and Claire had been teaching Mary herbs. The poor thing’s hands were too unsteady for needlework and she was hopeless with music. The past week, Claire had had to avoid the girl like the plague; she was still newly turned, and having her bloodlust near Claire’s withdrawal would have been a recipe for disaster, so Geillis had blessedly kept her away and out of anyone’s hair. The Comte appeared next, at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, and then Geneva’s piano stopped, and she scampered into the hall as well. Isobel’s head turned sharply at that, and Claire was glad of it. If she could stop staring at the door, she’d warn the bitch herself.

Claudel appeared seemingly from thin air. “I checked a window in a different room, Milady,” which he’d done to avoid burning anyone in this room, “and it is him.”

Claire could swear she was floating.

“Ah, cherie!” Louise grasped her hands.

Claire licked her lips.

“You look beautiful. He will nearly faint when he sees you.”

Claire nodded dumbly, still staring at the door.

“You are going to pounce him the second he comes through that door, aren’t you?”

Claire nodded again.

Louise giggled. “Come. Let us go to your room.”

Louise had to use significant force to uproot Claire from her spot.

“Everyone else, back to your business!” Louise commanded. “None of this concerns any of you!”

“You heard her, sister,” Isobel hissed.

As Claire was dragged up the stairs, she heard Geneva and Isobel whispering harshly to one another, all while scuttling and huffing their way into the music room, the door shutting loudly behind them. Mary and Geillis must have returned to the greenhouse, and the Comte–

“Excuse me, Monsieur,” Louise said, none too kindly. He was still standing at the top of the stairs. “I can assure you, you do not want to be between Claire and the boy when he crosses the threshold.”

“But of course,” he said, a sickening smile on his face.

“And I’ll thank you not to stand outside the door,” Claire hissed. “Pervert.”

“As if we will not hear you either way?”

Claire growled, but Louise gave a fierce tug. “Not worth it, ma chere. You will have him soon, and you will forget all else.”

And yet, for a moment, Claire could not shake the chill that the Comte’s chuckle sent down her spine.

Louise shoved Claire through her bedroom door, and only then did her body sing with thrill.

“What if I bloody kill him?” Claire panicked. “I could suck him dry.”

“You won’t.” Louise shook her head, laughing. “I promise, he will be just as eager as you. You look ravishing. I’m sure he is already hard as marble.”

“Louise…”

She simply winked, giggling deviously. “I will await him in the hall, lead him straight to you. It won’t be long now.”

Claire felt her vision darkening. She could fucking smell him already.

She took to pacing again, occasionally checking her hair and the folds of her gown, before realizing how bloody silly that was, considering all she wanted was for Jamie to rip her garments off of her and completely ruin her hair.

Perhaps she should be waiting for him naked.

She honest to God began undoing her laces when the front door opened.

She had to physically brace herself on one of the bedposts to stop herself from tearing through the hall, throwing herself down the stairs, and tossing him onto the marble and having him there.

“She’s waiting for you upstairs, mon cher.”

“Oh, aye. Thank ye.”

Her whole body vibrated with a violence she didn’t know she had within her.

His voice! My god!

She heard each step on the stairway. All twenty-eight of them.

She counted.

“She has missed you dearly.”

“And I her.”

My darling! My absolute love!

She couldn’t stand it. She released the bedpost and flung herself toward the open door–

And right into a large, solid chest.

“Claire.”

All of the hair on Claire’s body stood on end, her hormones spiked. She inhaled deeply, craning her neck to get her face out of his chest and into his neck.

“Jamie.”

Louise was right. He was already hard as marble.

Rather brutally, Claire tore him out of the doorway and slammed him against the wall, needing leverage. He grunted with the impact in a way that sent heat all the way downward. Louise, without any noise, shut the door behind them and presumably ran as far away as possible.

Claire continued inhaling that heavenly scent of his, then she began whimpering.

“Take it,” he breathed huskily. “I ken ye need it.”

And before he could even finish speaking, her teeth were in his flesh. He groaned, and Claire sobbed with relief, drinking like she never had before. Her body hummed, sang, rejoiced. She felt him raining kisses down on the crown of her head, felt him weaving his fingers through her hair, heard pins clattering to the floor as he did so.

Yes. Ruin me.

His hands ran up and down her back, tried to grip her arse through all those absurd layers of clothing.

“Rip it.”

“What…?”

Claire licked the wounds, unable to stop tasting him for even a moment. “Rip it off. I don’t care.”

He made a baffled, bewildered sound, rather adorable if you’d asked Claire. But she was not looking for adorable at the moment. She pulled back only for a moment, his blood dripping down her chin. She dug her nails into her bodice and tore, all too easily. He gasped minutely, and then he gulped, his eyes darkening.

She dove in for his neck again, moaning in bliss to swallow him down, and Jamie continued what she’d started, tearing at the gown anywhere he could reach. Every new inch of skin that was exposed to his burning hot hands was fucking heavenly.

“Claire…please…”

She immediately pulled away, horrified, terrified that she’d taken too much, that he was faint.

“Let me kiss ye, lass. Let me taste you.”

Claire sighed with relief, grasped his face in her hands, and kissed him with bruising force. He moaned loudly into her mouth, plunging his tongue inside, and Claire relished in the whimper he let out when she snagged her tooth on it. She drank and they kissed, and he tore at her many layers of skirts and then finally, finally her drawers.

Claire roughly seized his wrists, stopping him from ripping them, though it would be all too easy. She sucked gratuitously on his bottom lip, which she’d also managed to puncture.

“Fuck me, Jamie. Now.”

She surrendered to him, letting herself go boneless and weightless, pretending she had not an ounce of strength, though she could throw him out the window if she so pleased. He lifted her up and threw her onto the bed, and she spread her legs, hooking her fingers in his trousers. She easily tore them, and she giggled mercilessly at his wide eyed gaping.

It lasted only a fraction of a second, however, because then he was bare from the waist down, and he wasted no time in crawling over her, lining himself up, and piercing deep and hard.

She screamed, her neck fully arched, nails dug into his perfect arse.

“Oh, lass…I thought I’d die if I went another day wi’out this…”

“You have no idea…” she muttered, bringing his face down to kiss him, to take in some of the blood still leaking from his lip, his tongue. He pulled all the way out, and then slammed back in, and she moaned loudly into his mouth, nails digging into his cheeks.

He did it again, and their mouths fell apart, so Claire’s cry rang out around them. “Oh…” she moaned. “My darling…my love…”

“My love…” Jamie repeated reverently, up on his elbows, cupping her cheek. “My love.”

It was as if he’d convinced himself it had been a dream, and he was realizing for the first time that yes, the woman who’d said I love you was real. And the words were meant, and true.

Claire turned her head to kiss his palm, and then she snapped her teeth at his finger, suckling it greedily.

“You’re perfect…” she whimpered. “Please…please…”

And he knew what she meant.

He pistoned his hips now, not holding back, able to move faster on his elbows. She drank and drank from his finger, and he fucked her and fucked her incredibly, until she was screaming to the heavens. His hand left her mouth then, and she felt herself tense as he touched her there, just like she’d taught him, and rubbed in merciless circles.

It was when she realized she was feeling his blood there that she fully clenched around him, ecstasy clouding her every thought, stars blurring her vision. She heard him cry out loudly, felt him shoot inside her, and then he collapsed on top of her. She thought she wouldn’t be able to move, but as if it were a reflex, she wrapped her arms around him, as her legs already were, and she dug her teeth into his shoulder, as his dug into her neck.

They remained as such for an indeterminable amount of time, her drinking calmly, him nibbling and licking and kissing, latched and joined together, until he was softening inside her.

He regained some of his composure and leaned up on his elbows, and Claire focused her bleary vision on his darling face.

“Hello, lass.” He cupped her face, and Claire felt his warm blood from his finger gently pool on the apple of her cheek.

“Hello.” She rubbed his triceps, up and down, reveling in the warmth. He bent down and kissed her, gently for the first time. And, despite the thrill that she felt tasting blood in his mouth, she allowed it to remain gentle, soft and languid, tongues sloppily dancing.

Their mouths parted and Claire whined, but only until she realized his intentions. She smiled as his mouth traveled downward, and he finally slipped out of her on the journey. He kissed the swells of her breasts poking out of her stays and then he bit, none too gently, and Claire squeaked, arching her back.

“Aye, ye’re no’ the only one that bites.”

That made her impossibly wet.

He carefully undid her laces, which was hilariously ridiculous after the carelessness with which the rest of her clothes had been treated. Yet he was almost reverent as the laces passed through each hole, loosening and loosening until it fully opened, and he tossed the laces over his shoulder. Claire arched her back so he could slide it out from under her and discard it on the floor as well. Claire tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he smirked, lifting his arms and allowing her to toss it aside. Before she could fully admire him, he returned to his task, lowering her chemise until her nipples were exposed, and she sighed in ecstasy as he devoured each one in turn.

It wasn’t until his fingers trailed downward that Claire even realized she’d been bucking her hips into the air. His fingers paled in comparison to his cock, but she moaned when he plunged them inside her nonetheless, and then whimpered at the loss when he pulled them back out. He was gathering moisture.

He massaged and fucked her with his hand until she was screaming and clenching again, all the while he bit and suckled at her breasts. He really was too good at that, for someone who’d only just learned.

“Dear God…” she whimpered.

He hummed, satisfied with himself, and he silenced her by putting his fingers in her mouth, deliberately puncturing the middle one on her fang. The combined taste of his blood and her cunt was indescribably erotic.

By now, the fabric around the opening of her drawers was soaked, and they were entirely too uncomfortable to keep on. She slid her chemise the rest of the way down her body and kicked it away, and then she sat up, getting onto her knees. She felt wobbly, and was momentarily amazed that this man could do that to her; she was unbreakable, after all.

She turned around and wiggled her arse, and she heard Jamie growl.

“Go on. I know you want to.”

And then his hands were upon her, untying her drawers, and exposing her arse inch by inch.

“Christ…” The fabric pooled around her knees, and he roughly squeezed her, one cheek in each hand. “I canna believe how bonny it is…”

She giggled darkly, arching her back to lean into the touch.

“Here…” She bent over, getting onto her hands and knees. “Get them off.”

He obeyed, sliding the drawers all the way off, and now they were both finally fully naked. He groaned again, squeezing mercilessly.

“Smack it.”

He choked.

“I mean it. You’ll like it. Maybe as much as I like it.”

He gulped and obeyed, rather tamely.

“Don’t be gentle, Jamie. Hit me.”

He did, and she cried out, aching deliciously. She knew he was watching the way the fatty flesh rippled and bounced.

“Ye alright…?”

“Yes, yes…do whatever you want with me…”

He smacked the other cheek, hard. He moaned. “Oh, lass…”

“Now kiss it…to apologize for your brutish behavior.”

He sounded like he choked again, but this time he did not hesitate. He gratuitously kissed each cheek, over and over, leaving no inch of it untouched by his lips, and Claire arched her back until her cunt was right in his face. He took the cue beautifully, and he began to service her the way he’d been taught, squeezing and rubbing and even smacking her arse all the while. She finished much too quickly, wanting to savor this position for longer. But they had eternity for that.

Before she could gather her senses, he was fucking her in that position. She hadn’t even realized he’d been ready again. He was gripping her arse so hard, she’d bruise if she could. She was now fully doubled over, face in the mattress, and she was once again grateful she had no need to breathe. She turned her head as much as she could and was overwhelmed with lust at the sight. He was manic, almost feral, his eyes not leaving where they were joined, and she found oblivion immediately, squeezing around him again.

“Oh, Claire…”

And then he choked again, hips stuttering, and he fell forward onto his hands atop her, shooting inside her once more. He heaved on top of her, his hair fully soaked with sweat. As if sensing that she needed it, he let his hand run over her cheek, and she nibbled on the tip of his thumb, suckling the tiny puncture wound.

Heaven. She’d died and gone to heaven.

“Nah…” he panted, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

She didn’t realize she’d said it out loud.

“If anyone’s died, it’s me.” His arms gave out, and he let himself fall to the right of her onto his side, and she let her legs straighten out, plopping onto her stomach, and then she rolled onto her side to face him.

“I won’t let you,” Claire said, more seriously than she’d meant to. “Never.”

He smiled sleepily. “Aye, I believe ye.” He kissed her sweetly, and Claire tangled their limbs together, lapping up the dried blood on his bottom lip. “That's why I believe I’ve found my eternal salvation. It’s you.”

Claire would weep if she could.

“How can I not love a man who says such things?”

Jamie laughed softly, kissing the tip of her nose. “Love,” again, disbelief. “Aye, it really is me who’s gone to Heaven.”

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shysneeze · 4 years ago

Text

i solemnly swear i am up to no good (george weasley x reader)

request: what if one night the golden trio is look at the marauders map that the twins gave Harry and they see the reader and George sneaking around hogwarts and they ask George about it the next day? ~ anon

warnings: yo i don’t even think i swear in this one it’s a miracle, can’t think of anything else but Fred’s dramatics

authors note: this is the best porcastination I have ever tasted (fuck chemistry uno?) anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for anon and thank you for the request <3

...

It's a carefully constructed routine, one that George has perfected by now. He's worked out that Lee is always the last to fall asleep, and so the coast is always clear when he begins to snore, that he's safe to slip from his covers and creep down the stairs, by which point the common room is always empty and he's free to leave completely undetected.

He knows the corridors to avoid, the ones with the gossiping portraits and regular prefect patrols. He knows that McGonagall keeps her classroom lit through the night to discourage snooping students and that the ghost will turn a blind eye at most things, unless they're in a particularly bad mood.

He's thought it through perfectly, even if he does say so himself. In fact, he's not had an incident since the first night they met up, when Peeves decided to draw the attention of every sleeping painting in the vicinity, who awoke rather grouchy, and ready to take their complaints straight to Dumbledore until George convinced them he wouldn't let it happen to again.

Now, though, he's sure he's considered everything and he's rather smug with himself when he arrives at the kitchens. (Y/N) smiles at him when he arrives, already perched on one of the counter tops beside two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Still beat ya, Georgie." She grins.

"Right you." He teases. "You have no idea the expedition it is to get here without getting caught."

"Excuses, excus-"

He's kissing her before she can finish, her laughter vibrating against his lips until she recovers from the abruptness of it and is gathering a handful of his jumper and pulling him closer as she does every time.

They've thought of everything to keep it their own, their sacred routine and their special secret. They've eliminated every possible hiccup that could occur, they're sure of it. Everything always goes as plan and their relationship is kept protected in it's own little bubble, the way they like it.

"You're not still obsessing over that map."

The boys by the fireplace jumps at the sound of Hermione's voice, staring wide-eyed as she stands on the bottom of the girl's dorm's staircase with a disappointed frown. Harry clutches the map against his chest, as if it will anyway hide it from her.

"'Mione." Ron exhales. "You gave me a bloody heart attack!"

"What are you doing up?" Harry asks.

"I left my textbook down here." She informs. "You?"

"We're uh, checking to see if Flitwick is still in the hospital wing with the flu." Harry admits shamefully. "So we don't need to the do the homework..."

"Of course you are."

She comes forward with a sigh, dropping into the seat beside them. She can't help but be slightly curious on the matter, even with her already completed homework upstairs. The map is characteristically empty for the time of night, most people's names stationary in their dorms except from the occasional pacing teacher, still up marking, or the prefects on their rounds.

It's what makes the set of footsteps tiptoeing down an empty corridor so noticeable, George Weasley's name so stark on the otherwise empty stretch of enchanted parchment. Hermione frowns at it curiously and points.

"What is George doing?"

"Who knows." Ron shrugs. "Probably just setting up some sort of prank."

Hermione gives him an unconvinced look and drags her finger up to the Gryffindor tower, halting at the boys dorms, where Fred's name lies still where he is sleeping. Ron takes a minute to catch onto the implication.

"Then why is Fred not there either?"

"Maybe he's gone rogue?" Harry suggests.

"I doubt that."

They return to George as his inky footsteps lead further through the castle, looping through hidden corridors and secret passage ways methodically before arriving at the kitchen, where upon realisation, Hermione lets out a chuckle.

"Oh."

"What?" Ron frowns.

"Look who already in the kitchens." She explains.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)." Ron exhales. "What's he meeting up with her for?"

"Think about it, Ronald." Hermione smiles knowingly.

Ron's brows scrunch in confusion, looking expectantly to Harry, who seems to have already clued himself in and is grinning knowingly. Then his eyes begin to widen with realisation and Hermione nods.

"He can't be- with (Y/N)?" Ron gasps. "No..."

"Seems that way." Harry gives an amused smile.

"That smug git." Ron breathes. "I knew he was hiding something!"

Hermione lets out a soft laugh, soon followed by Harry. Thoughts of Flitwick's whereabouts long forgotten at this new information and it's implications. In the kitchens the pair's names have stilled together, oblivious to the secrets they've spilled.

George sips slowly at his coffee, willing it to make up for his late night with a burst of energy. Even through his tiredness, he's grinning to himself at the memories of the night before. His eyes search for (Y/N)'s across the room, finding them quickly, well practiced in the art of doing so. She’s nursing a cup of coffee in a similar way, and gives a knowing smile before dropping her gaze with a slight shake of her head.

Across the table, Ron watches the exchange with insider knowledge and scowls at his elder brother, a mixture of perplexed and impressed. Harry nudges him warningly, but wears a knowing sort of smirk that George catches from the corner of his eyes and causes him to grow slightly uneasy from.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing." Harry assures, coughing out a laugh. "Nothing, George."

"Alright..."

He attempts to return to his breakfast when he hears Ron snigger, rounding back on them with a frown. Hermione lifts her glass to her lips to hide her smile, only adding to George confusion. Fred's picked up on it too now, watching their little brother and his friends curiously.

"What are you lot so smug about?" Fred asks.

"That's what I'd like to know." George agrees with a frown.

George watches as Ron's eyes drift across the room towards same place as his had a moment ago, to (Y/N). George's jaw slackens ever so slightly, alerting Fred to this new development, also glancing over at the girl. (Y/N) isn't blind to this new attention, lifting her eyes to meet theirs and frowning in concern.

"Shut up." George tells Ron sternly. "Don't say anything."

"What?" Fred frowns. "What are you on about, George?"

George fixes Ron with a glare whilst also trying to figure out how he's come to know this information. He's so sure he'd considered everything, yet his brother is grinning at him like he's just won the lottery for best blackmail material possible.

Then, from the corner of Harry's robes, he recognises the aged parchment that he and Fred gave the boy themselves. He finds himself gulping and his cheeks growing warmer by the second as Harry chuckles at him.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred ask sharply, growing agitated at being left out of the loop. "What has (Y/L/N) got to do with it?"

Ron last two seconds before he's blurting it out despite George's pleading look.

"George met up with (Y/N) in the kitchen's last night."

"Merlin..." George groans.

"What!?" Fred bursts loudly. "You what?"

George groans and drops his head into his hands as Fred stares wide-eyed and betrayed. George should have considered the map, the most damning piece of evidence there could be, that no perfect timing and strategic route planning could save them from.

"You absolute git!" Fred exclaims, punching his twins arms. "You've got yourself a girlfriend and didn't tell me!"

"Ah!" George exclaims, sitting up to rub his arm soothingly. "No need for violence!"

"Uh, yeah there is!" Fred argues. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know- a few weeks?" George offers.

"A few week-" Fred gasps. "And Ron knew before me?"

"I didn't exactly plan that." George defends. "Harry's got the bloody map."

"Wow." Fred folds his arms. "You think you know someone."

"Oh come off it, Fred." George groans. "I would've told you eventually."

"Eventually." Fred scoffs. "I'm your brother- your twin! I should have been told the minute it started!"

George runs his finger through his hair with a sigh and gives Fred a sheepish look, although it does nothing to appease his twin's sour look. He's nice enough to feel somewhat guilty for it, even with his brother's dramatics.

"Are you ashamed of your family George?"

That's when George clocks that he's just being a dramatic git. He rolls his eyes at his brother as he starts up with a rant on loyalty and brotherhood, hand on his heart like he's quoting Shakespeare.

"You'll get over it soon enough." George decides flippantly. "We just liked sneaking around."

"That's possibly the most goddamn boring excuse you could come up with." Fred announces disappointedly. "You just ruined my whole thing- I was hoping for something like she thought you were me the whole time and this was actually a case of identity theft."

"Sorry to disappoint." George smirks with a shrug. "But she thinks I'm the better looking twin."

"She's clearly blind."

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you all." George sighs. "It started as an accident and then we just kind of got used to it."

"Wow, romantic." Fred jokes.

"Shut up." George scoffs. "It's not everyone's idea of a nice date but it's ours and we like it."

Fred smiles quite genuinely at this, the defensiveness in his brother's tone.

"You really like her." He observes. "Huh?"

George's eyes drift unsubtly towards the girl in question, where his smile widens at seeing her with that smile he's so used to feeling on his lips when they kiss. He chuckles to himself before turning back to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"Then I'm happy for you." Fred decides, clapping his brother's shoulder. "But ever keep anything like this from me again and your twin status is revoked."

"Noted." George grins. "Oh, and Ron?"

Ron gulps at the change in his brother's tone.

"Yeah?"

"I'd be checking your shoes for spiders for a while mate."

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george x reader #george weasley imagine #Fred and George imagine #george imagine #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfics #fred and george

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xlonelysoulxx · 3 years ago

Text

Being a Mermaid and Jacob’s Imprint Would Include... {2}

{gif isn’t mine}

xxxxx

You had disappeared for a whole month. You had only sent Leah a few messages after the incident, to give a sign of life and reassure the pack... which hadn’t helped matters when Jacob found out. "WHY didn't you tell me?!” “You acted like a f*cking jerk, why should I have?" The tension was so overwhelming, to the point where the other wolves must have come between them that day. Leah wanted to protect her friend, and Jacob wanted to get his imprint back. But he couldn't.

xxxxx

You hadn’t planned to come back, not so soon... this is what you had entrusted to the pretty wolf. You wanted to get some distance... away from Forks, from La Push... and from Jacob. You couldn't take it anymore. It was already hard that he treated you so coldly ‘cause he loved one another, but seeing him tear himself apart with his brothers... because of you? It was too much. It had gone way too far.

xxxxx

Grudge and worry kept growing among the wolves even when Jacob were gone, wandering god knows where near the Canadian border. Guilt and pain had kept twisting him from the inside ever since, and hearing the thoughts of his pack... especially when it came to you, had become torture. Even Jared, who had felt at fault at first, only felt annoyance now. Jacob was a ball of nerves ready to explode at any moment, while he was the one who had behaved badly in the first place. Fuck... he could have hurt you?! All because he had let himself be overcome by his emotions, emotions that he wasn’t yet ready to assume out loud.

xxxxx

The feeling of lack linked to the imprint was so strong that it sometimes prevented you from breathing, but that wasn't the worst. It was at that moment... that you realized how much you were in love with Jacob Black.

xxxxx

Even the pull of the bond wasn't as strong as the crack forged in your heart. A gash already wide open over the past few weeks (consciously or not) by the constant presence of Isabella Swan - hunted by Victoria - and now gaping as you left the Quileute... and Jacob, behind you. It was clear, the difference between these feelings - as if your heart and your guts were going in two distinct directions. How stupid you were... as if fate wasn't cruel enough like that.

xxxxx

You were quite surprised to see Alice and Jasper appear at your workplace one morning, a small neighborhood library near Port Angeles. It was brand new, no one knew about it. No one except Alice. Obviously... What were they doing there? You weren't particularly close to the Cullens, but you liked the lil’ brunette quite a bit. Did something happen? Did he... no, Leah would have warned you. Right..?

xxxxx

“He's stupidly stubborn, and guilty. But he's fine... for now.” You no longer understood anything, since when did Alice appreciate Jacob? She didn’t. But she couldn't control her visions. Time was running out. An army was approaching, Bella was once again the center of attention... and the future had darkened. The two clans who called themselves enemies had decided to unite reluctantly, to protect her - but what was your role in this story?

xxxxx

“Don't get me wrong, Alice... I don't wish Bella any harm.” You were boiling from the inside, but Bella wasn't the reason of your pain... Jacob was. You had no animosity towards the young girl, the shapeshifter was mature enough to make his own choices. It was between you and him, and yet. “But you came here for nothing.” You didn't look her in the eye anymore, busy sorting through the same books over and over in your hands. You couldn't believe she had come here just for this. She wanted you to come back to him, so he could come back to her... come back to Bella. To protect her.

xxxxx

Jasper hadn't moved from his place since their arrival, standing proudly straight behind his beloved. He could easily sense your anger, mixed with pain and incomprehension... and just like that, your eyes met his for a long second. “You should listen to her, Y/N.” You could feel a wave of appeasement sweep over you, immediately glaring at the vampire. "And you shouldn’t try to manipulate my emotions, Jasper."

xxxxx

“He won't survive it, Y/N... I saw it.” You could feel your blood running cold through your veins. What was she talking about?? Jacob was actually back in Forks, for more than a week now. But he was a freaking mess. He made sure to stay away from the pack, irritable... unpredictable, and more closed than ever. Quite the opposite of who he really was. You could feel your heart skipping a beat... Alice had glimpsed the impending confrontation, and the outcome had been fatal for the brown wolf.

xxxxx

No, no, no... it couldn't happen. It. Couldn't. The information was too much to handle as you began to hyperventilate like an idiot in the store, Jasper immediately moving to your side. You couldn't let him get killed all this because he was distracted by the whole "imprint thing”, no... you could never forgive yourself for it. You would leave your pride aside without any hesitation for him, everything for him... no matter the welcome you would receive in return.

xxxxx

The car ride was terribly quiet. The battle would take place in three days, so there was no time to waste. Your boss had been accommodating enough to give you your afternoon (he seemed to be pleased by your work, good for you) and this is where you were now... on the road back to Forks, sitting in the back of Alice's car. She had insisted on taking you there given your emotional state, and you were silently grateful for that. You could feel the anguish mounting as you approached the Quileute reserve, unconsciously wriggling in your seat.

xxxxx

“Stop the car.” The air was too thick to breathe, and you felt like you were drowning... there was only one way to fix it. You were close enough now, you could join the reserve on your own... but not right away. You quickly thanked the couple before slamming the door, taking the path to the forest under the worried gaze of the petite brunette. You ran, unable to stop before reaching the impressive cliff... not thinking twice before jumping.

xxxxx

You felt like you could finally breathe again as the icy water came in contact with your hot skin. You haven't been back to the ocean since the incident, and you had missed it - terribly. You could feel a pinch in your stomach as you rose to the surface, quickly looking up as your eyes instantly fell on the huge brown wolf that stood high on the rocks. Jacob. He was there... how?

xxxxx

You dived again after an endless exchange of glances, taking longer than necessary to reach the shore. A part of you feared your reunion, while the other was just relieved and excited to see him again. Jacob had reached the beach at an impressive speed, the shapeshifter dressed warmer than usual while a large jacket and boots complemented the usual shorts specific to all Quileutes. His heart was pounding as he observed the surface, impatiently waiting to see you reappear. Were you even going to do it..? He couldn't believe you were really there.

xxxxx

And you did. Your feet sank into the wet sand as you left the sweet comfort offered by the waves, your long hair sticking to your skin like a second skin. You were completely exposed as the cold wind whipped through your entire body, Jacob's eyes never leaving yours as he took off his jacket… wasting no time wrapping it around you. The distance between you was ridiculously thin now, the silence heavy and comfortable at the same time. There was no room for shyness here, it was Jacob. And despite everything that had happened you had full confidence in him.

xxxxx

None of you dared to speak first... almost like it's going to shatter the present moment, and bring bad memories to the surface. “I was afraid I had hurt you.” He finally confessed, almost shamefully. Start at the beginning, yeah... it was good. “I'm sorry I disappeared... I just panicked.” You answered briefly, but he cut you off almost immediately.“You don't have to feel sorry for anything, Y/N. I should. For everything.” He really was. He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, how much he had missed you... and how much he loved you. But he didn't have the right. Not now, and maybe never. But repeating it to you, showing you how sorry he was and how much he regretted the way he had treated you... seemed like a good start. He wanted to be the best imprint for you... a friend, a protector. If you wanted him to be. He didn't want to be separated from you like that anymore. Never again.

xxxxx

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the erratic changes in his breathing… and the heat radiating from his body which was enveloping you like a soft blanket. He meant every word. You were sure of it. And it was, indeed, a good start... yes. It was like a silent acceptance, like a secret language between the two of you... your throat tightening a bit before you wrapped your arms around him.

xxxxx

Jacob automatically tightens his embrace around you, selfishly accepting the gesture of affection you both needed so badly. He trapped your body against his, resting his chin against the top of your head as you stood on your tiptoes... inhaling his scent. There he was, alive and safe in your arms... and that was all that mattered right now. And you were going to make sure that it stays that way, no matter what.

xxxxx

But fate wasn't so lenient, you should have known that... it didn't rest only in your hands. Cruel reality exploded in your face that day, Jacob's scream echoing through the entire clearing at the same time as the sound of his ribs being broken by the newborn vampire. It all happened so fast. Leah had found herself trapped in the deadly embrace of one of them, Jacob had intervened... and now he was writhing in pain on the ground.

xxxxx

You had joined him in a few strides, stumbling alongside him as your heartbeat echoed through your ears. Carlisle stood by your side, examining the extent of the damage before the other members of the pack arrived in turn. His voice was twisted in pain as he tried to pronounce your name, squeezing your hand in his before the other wolves surrounded him to pick him up - Paul reluctantly pulling you away from your imprint. Tears filled your eyes, so much so that you hadn't even seen Bella arrive… the obvious horror on her face. How could this have happened? You thought you could change Alice's vision, you really believed you could... but you obviously failed. Literally.

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eunkimmie · 4 years ago

Text

i have always loved you

anonymous: How about about Sal and fem!Y/N raising a baby together? The two were FWBs, but then a slip-up resulted in Y/N becoming pregnant so they ended the sexual relationship and opted to co-parent. Thankfully, they were graduating from uni soon at the time of their slip-up. As the years roll by, Sal and Y/N grow closer and slowly fall in love. They get together after realizing their feelings for each other are genuine and eventually have another baby.

(had to reupload)

warnings: she/her pronouns, pregnancy, FWB, nsfw, non-canonical Sally Face plotline word count: 3.6k Sal was a sentimental guy. He had a lot of feelings swirling around in his heart. Big feelings for a small guy. As true as that was, Sal was never one to see sex as anything sacred or sentimental. He didn't believe in "saving himself" for anyone—it just wasn't something that was for him personally. To him, sex was just something that came to those that experienced sexual attraction. Arousal wasn't a foreign feeling to Sal, he had been a teenager once, too. Sal was attracted to her. This girl—Sal barely even knew her name, god—was just hot to him. His type, for sure. You were Niel's friend and greeted the group with a smile. Sal was twenty-one now. Twenty-one years old, never had a girlfriend, and a virgin. Sal supposed that his teenage years weren't exactly spent pining over girls or having sex. To Sal, virginity wasn't anything more than a social construct. So why was it that he was suddenly so aware of his own virginity as this girl—(Name)—laid below him with her brows furrowed in pleasure. It was dark, pitch-black almost, to the point where you couldn't make out the scarred features on Sal's face. Very much intentional. He was sure he looked like a fool, anyway. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, lips parted as grunts and breathy moans came from his lips.

Sal's shaky hands came down to grab the sides of your hips, angling his own hips to thrust into you and pull your body back down on his dick. It was hot in every way, Sal felt like his entire body had been set on fire. His hair that had been messily pulled up into a bun was barely tied up anymore, blue strands stringing down from his ears. You screamed as Sal moved his hands up to your back, pulling your entire body up to manage a new position. You rode him as Sal's hips snapped back up in sharp rhythm to meet a steady pace, moaning loudly, shamelessly, as his cock buried deeper inside you with each thrust.

"F—uck. Fuck!" you screamed, arms wrapping around Sal's neck as his teeth bit every so gently down into the curve of your neck. Your nails ran down his back, no doubt leaving scratches behind, which made Sal groan. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck—" Sal pushed you down to lay on your back, pulling out quickly and pumping the tip of his cock hastily before finishing on your stomach. The two of you breathed in quick rhythm, Sal eventually collapsing down on the mattress of his bed. He felt his face burn hot, realizing the rash decision he had made. He hadn't even asked. "S-Sorry," he gasped between breaths. You didn't seem to mind, giving him an honest "it's alright" before wiping your stomach off with a few tissues. You dismissed yourself to go take a shower after putting your clothes back on, the two of you suddenly hyper-aware of Sal's roommates.

Sal pulled his boxers back on as well as his prosthetic and laid out on his bed feeling embarrassed. He hadn't exactly...made you finish. Fuck, you probably thought he was some kind of loser. His first time and he finished in probably five minutes. All Sal could do was groan in mortification and get dressed, shamefully, of course.

He had already settled back into his bed with a video game by the time he heard a knock on his door. You made your way in after his go-ahead, hair wet and chipper.

"Hey," you said plainly. You pointed to a spot on his bed, and after his approval, you sat down comfortably. Sal felt embarrassed all over again. "Um...sorry. About that. I don't really—I mean, I've never—"

Your laugh cut him off. It seemed harmless, and Sal felt his shoulders relax a bit as you waved a dismissive hand. "Hey, don't worry about that. Seriously. I'm not going to judge you over sex." He gulped, staring at you beneath his prosthetic. You seemed awfully understanding, but your reassurance did make him feel better. A beat of silence passed before you spoke up again. "Maybe...we could keep doing that? If you'd want to? Sorry if that sounds intrusive."

"Like..." Sal paused, setting his game down and watching as your body language showed signs of bashfulness. He felt a bit surprised at your own timid nature. Hadn't you realized how bad he was at the sex stuff? Really, he only copied what he had seen in porn. Copied it poorly, that is. "Like some kind of friends with benefits thing? Even though I suck?" That made you laugh, and it was such a beautiful sight to behold. The bed shook as you turned to face him properly, legs crossed on his mattress. "I don't think you suck. Fuck, I sound like some kind of pervert...But, still. You don't have to say yes, of course...I just thought, well. I thought I would at least ask."

Sal would've been an idiot to say no.

The two of you continued like that for a while, probably for longer than you should've as just two friends. You were close friends, friends that fucked every once in a while. It seemed to satisfy the both of you, but you two were by no means careful. Usually, the two of you had sex on a whim—he could recall the riskiest time was when the entire group was out shopping and the two of you got one out in a bathroom. Still, Sal just...never really considered the risks. Besides, the two of you had been doing it for this long, and nothing had happened, so the chances must be low, right?

...One morning you showed up at Sal's little shared house.

"...Hey. Are you the only one home right now?" Sal opened the door to let you in, eyes widening just a bit as he shrugged. Perhaps your relationship had gotten too casual, but he just hadn't ever stopped to even ponder the situation. Sure, he had a little crush on you when Niel introduced you to the group, but that turned into a sexual relationship. Maybe Sal had feelings for you. Maybe they were buried so deeply that Sal never even realized. But he knew that, even outside of your sexual relationship, that he cared for you regardless.

"Yeah. It's a little early, isn't it?" You breezed past him, sitting down at the dining table and sliding a wrapped breakfast sandwich across the table, a gesture for him to sit. He watched as you bit into your own, curious. "Did you just want to talk?" You offered him a smile, one that signaled that you were here not to have sex, but instead to just be a friend.

Sometimes Sal couldn't help but wonder. He'd get lost in his thoughts, listening to ambient music in his room, what would life be like if you two had just stayed friends? Maybe that could've lead to a real relationship. Maybe. And the two of you weren't in a situation where it was awkward, or where they would have to sneak out of the other's room after a night of sex. They could cuddle and wake up next to each other, have some breakfast, and carry on. Sal always felt butterflies when he woke up and you were sleeping next to him. In some ways, he felt wrong for feeling that way. He didn't know what to feel. Perhaps a part of him figured that this was the closest he would ever be able to get to have a real romance with you. Sal didn't know. It hurt his head if he thought about it for too long, so really, why even bother pondering the possibilities?

But when you sat across from him, so mundane, eating a breakfast sandwich and looking sleepy, how could he not feel these things?

"Is that bad? If I just talk?" you looked up at him, hoping you hadn't caught him in the middle of anything important. It wasn't bad. It was never bad. Sal always had time for you. "No, I was just laying around. Todd and Niel went off to the supermarket, and I think Larry is out in the shed."

"Right, well..." you paused, biting your lip. "Okay, so you know how we always promised to be open with one another? Like transparency?" Sal quirked an eyebrow, nodding and gesturing for you to go ahead. "Yeah, so like. Fuck, man, I'm just gonna come out and say it. I missed my fucking period." At this, he saw your hands clench a bit harder down on the sandwich you were holding. Your eyes gathered tears in the bottom lid, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "A-And I don't know if that means anything, like shit. It couldn't, and I would be here just freaking you the fuck out, but I dunno man. I'm just...Shit, I don't fucking know what the hell I would do if I were..." Sal stayed silent, the cogs turning slowly in his head.

"A-And I don't know, like, I'm twenty-two. I know a lot of people have kids by now, but I just—I don't know, and it's not like I'm asking you to be super involved it's just—"

"What? I would want to be involved." Sal's lips seemed to move on their own, but it was just so painfully obvious to him. Obviously. Obviously, he wanted to be involved. It wasn't a question, really. The two of you had known each other for about a year now, and even though nothing was truly going on...Truth to be told, Sal couldn't help but think about you even after you were gone.

After about five positive pregnancy tests, the two of you agreed to stop your situation. There were a lot of tears, more so from you with Sal rubbing circles on your back. You would cry to him about how you weren't ready, or how you were going to fuck up, and all Sal could do was be there for you. Sal didn't see him as much as a father type. In fact, the two of you hadn't even ever worked out what the situation was. He wasn't even sure there was a situation.

It was strange. Sal wasn't a father. He didn't look like a father. He didn't know how a father was supposed to behave. Sal spent his weekends playing video games and learning Pokemon themes on his guitar, that wasn't what a father was supposed to do. At the very least, Sal had already moved his bed and belongings to the basement of the house and made a makeshift nursery in his bedroom.

A baby girl, chubby and crying had come after months of going back and forth on what to do. It was strange. Sal never saw himself as an adult. He'd grown in height and gained some tone in his body, yet still he couldn't differentiate the person in the mirror from the kid who used to wear pigtails every day and get pushed around in school.

What was probably worse is that Sal didn't feel a connection with his child. The child was his, undoubtedly, but he didn't feel much. He had read and heard about parents being so enamored and parents who just immediately felt love for their child, but Sal didn't. He stared back at the baby girl, her features taking after yours for the most part, yet hair as blue as the sky, and furrowed his brow. You, on the other hand, held the child close to you, foreheads touched together as the baby cried and you let out shaky breaths. Parents didn't always have that immediate connection with their children, but, even still...Sal could open his heart up just this time for a child. For you. Even though he had seen the worst of what the world had to offer, he would try.

Try he did. Sal couldn't see any other reason to do anything but for his child. Diane. That was her name. There wasn't any other option, and you had almost instantly agreed. Henry cried, the recollection of his late wife and his memory as a father had come forward as he sobbed when Sal's baby had touched his face for the first time, tugging at his beard. Sal's dad hadn't been there for him when he needed it most, coming around in an attempt to make things right when it was almost too late, but Sal refused to make that mistake. He did everything for his daughter. He was taking online college courses to get a degree in graphics. He did so much, too much, maybe, as in the wake of his determination the two of you hadn't even discussed your own relationship. In fact, it never even came to mind until Larry had asked. The two were sitting outside after having met up at the lake. Larry, moved out by now and living in a shared apartment closer to his community college, and Sal, still living with you, Todd, and Neil, sat in the grass drinking sodas.

"So...I don't know, man."

"Huh?" Sal had looked over at him. The sun had just barely dipped down beyond the horizon, the sky a pale purple. Larry shrugged, pursing his lips together in thought. "You know, a lot of people who have a kid and live together are at least dating. In most situations." Sal continued to stare, the realization of his words sinking in. Larry was right. Sal knew he was right. Perhaps Sal had forgotten. And that was truthful, too. It was so easy to forget when the two of you were living together, raising a child, and maybe just every once in a while waking up next to each other like you used to.

"And don't get me wrong, I'm not judging. In fact, I couldn't be happier for you. Ash too. You haven't really been this happy, this grounded, since you got here. To Nockfell. It's just...I dunno. Haven't you ever thought of, like, marriage?"

Marriage. Yeah, Sal had thought of marriage. The first time he saw his child he thought of it. The first time he held her, the first time he had taken off his prosthetic and his little girl just stared up at him in the same way before her little hands reached up and grabbed at his nose, he thought of marriage. Even before that. When your stomach was swollen, seven months pregnant, and Sal had caught you staring down at your stomach with a swirling mix of emotions behind your eyes, he thought of marriage. The two of you slept in the same bed. Every time he'd wake up next to you, he thought of marriage.

Sal Fisher was so undeniably in love with you. He had been so undeniably in love with you, maybe even from the first time he laid eyes on you. It hadn't ever been about sex. It had been about you. About how you smiled at him, and how your arms would wrap around his shoulders as you kissed him deeply. It had always been about you. Sal had been so blinded, he truly thought sex was the only way to keep you around. But now...Well, shit, what now?

"...I have," Sal finally responded. "I love her."

Larry stared at his friend, Sal's eyes roaming over the moon's reflection in the water.

"Isn't that answer enough?"

. . .

Little Diane was two, now. Sal finished his basic courses and graduated from the two-year school. The two of you were busy packing up your daughter's belongings into boxes, a moving truck waiting outside.

"Are you sure we cant convince you to stay?" Niel joked, hand intertwined in Todd's. Todd nudged his husband, laughing a bit with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, it's not like they have a kid or anything." You laughed, smiling brightly at the two. It had been a long journey of memories in this little house. It wouldn't ever be a place you nor Sal would forget. But it was time to move on. Sal had gotten accepted into a college to finish out his degree, and you had managed to get a job with a lot of flexibility in the same area.

"Yeah, but...California. It's just so far. And so different from Nockfell."

"True, but I think that's a good thing, honestly. This town is so strange...I could never figure out why, but it just gave me this feeling...And I don't want Diane spending her childhood years here." Todd exchanged a knowing look with Sal, the two remaining silent about the shared knowledge. Todd cleared his throat, ridding his head of the foul memories. "I suppose you're right. We'll have to come and visit sometime."

Larry and Ash had come over to the house as well, all helping you and Sal move and disassemble furniture. Gizmo was purring happily on the couch, content to watch the rest of you do all the heavy lifting until it was time to go. Henry and Lisa had even come over, Diane resting in her grandfather's arms. With all of the helping hands, you and Sal were about ready to get moving in just a few hours,

The two of you stood outside the house, your daughter asleep in her car seat in the back of the moving truck. It was strange. Sal had spent years in this town. He was just a kid. A kid that played guitar and a kid that loved video games. A kid that would search for an hour with his best friend Larry for quarters hiding around Addison Apartments just to buy a bag of chips from the lousy vending machines downstairs. A kid that had gotten mixed up with the supernatural that he would be sure to protect his daughter from. A kid that simply met a friend of a friend and fell in love with her smile. Sal couldn't help but wonder how different his life would be if not for you.

You and Sal exchanged your goodbyes tearfully with your friends and family, promising to keep in touch. And finally, with a turn of a key, you were off to a new life. It was a long drive in which Sal reflected on his life. He could've been a nobody. He could've been that weird kid with some weird mask and from a weird town. Just another picture in a yearbook. Maybe in another life, he had been a murder. He chuckled...how unlikely. He couldn't have ever imagined his life like this. Sal Fisher, the family man. He wasn't too sure that his face would fit in at a PTA meeting.

After hours on the road and multiple stops, the two of you arrived at a neighborhood with a row of brick townhomes lining the road. They weren't the best or the most luxurious, but they were within walking distance of schools and a good driving distance from Sal's university and your job. Maybe it was a bit cliche, and in sincerity, all too normal for Sal's life. He was the guy who had talked to ghosts, and yet he was about to move into a cookie-cutter neighborhood with a kid.

The two of you stepped into the house, the smell of dust being the most prominent. It would need cleaning and hard work, but it was yours. Sal didn't think he was exactly cut out for the whole "white picket fence" family, but a family nonetheless.

A family. A husband, a wife, and a daughter. Except, that wasn't his situation. He had a friend and a daughter.

Sal stared at his life. Twenty-five. Years had gone by, probably in the most unexpected way that Sal could ever imagine for himself, yet he still felt as if he hadn't moved very far with you. But you were here. In a house that you two had bought together, with eyes he had stared into for four years. His daughter with his mother's name and his hair was in your arms, giggling and squirming around, eager to crawl around the new environment. He looked over at you, eyes shining bright with hope of a new adventure and lips upturned in a smile.

"Can you believe it? Sal, our own place. This is insane. Can you believe it?" your head turned to meet his gaze, tears gathering in your eyelids. Sal stared at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Sal?"

"Marry me."

The words came out fast, but the same nonetheless. The weight of them wasn't something Sal was aware of. He had been thinking of this for years. Never the right time, never the right place. But everything seemed right. Standing here, seeing you smile the same way as you did at that first meeting years ago. It was different now. He couldn't imagine a life without you in it. Sal wanted to see you smile as he slid a wedding band on your ring finger. He fantasized about his little girl walking down and throwing petals. It was silly, but it was what he wanted. He was sure of it.

"W-What?"

"Marry me. I love you."

You stared at him, mouth agape as the breath was taken from you. This was Sal. The father of your child. It was Sal, the one who had refused to leave your side when you were pregnant. Who stayed calm when you couldn't. Who had played with your daughter and refused to stop smiling for her. Even before that, it was the same Sal who had kissed you like there was nothing else in the world to do. Sal Fisher was full of love to give and wanted nothing but the best for everyone around him despite the world throwing so many challenges his way. What other response was there to give?

Sal took your hand after lowering his prosthetic, eyes staring seriously. "Will you marry me?"

"...Yes."

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher #writing #sally face x you

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arvandus · 3 years ago

Text

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY! 1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it. Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught. Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

All of the above?

All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire. Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name. The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

Like his hands. You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight. They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand. They were a thing to be feared and avoided. But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like? You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

Or his lips. They were always covered by his mask. You never, ever saw him without it. You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin. Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive. Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

You bet that part of him was soft too.

The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes. They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes. But they lacked the warmth of Heaven. Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore. Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.

He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own. That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing. Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization. You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates. No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

First impressions were everything to Kai. Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion. As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again. You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips. After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster. And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

The message he sent was clear: adapt or die. When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

So, you adapted. As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path. The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad. Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him. But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either. Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often. But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it. And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth. But it was just a job, right? You didn’t need warmth.

So why did you feel so dissatisfied? Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

You craved his attention. It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care. To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction. The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust. They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were. It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.” You wanted him. At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse. After all, this was Overhaul. Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain. It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.

You began to act different in front of him. Nothing too obvious, of course. After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all. All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance. You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes. Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings. In the end though, it made no difference. There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside. It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening. Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone. No papers remained on his desk. His gloves and plague mask were gone. With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood. It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints. You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution. No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

You should have just left it at that. But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

That should have been your first clue.

But your mental alarms never sounded. Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right? Left for the evening. What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit? With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

That should have been your second clue.

But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment. You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes. It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot. Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded. What if those were his fingers? The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more. You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it. Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here of all places. But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations. After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it. And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him. Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

And dear God, did you need it. You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties. Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He was gone, right? And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left. He’d be none the wiser.

Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get. You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in. A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart. In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill. It felt so fucking good. The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat. You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

“Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic. You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

FUCK. Of course. You forgot to check outside. He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You hadn’t heard him enter. How long had he been standing there??

“I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask. His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

“Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

“I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing. His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

“Look at you...” he grumbled. “Disgusting.”

His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression. His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

He was going to kill you. You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less. But you weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to die.

You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare. “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

“Overhaul.”

“Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” he sneered. “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him. You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence. He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.

“Clean it up.”

With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.

You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather. Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame. His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you. It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge. He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

Not that you’d try to. You knew better.

When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.

It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life. But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I was just...” you stammered.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

You swallowed and set down the trashcan. He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you. Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head. You stopped breathing.

There was something... electric in the air. You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps. His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face. Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely. Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released. After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes. The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra. Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier. You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

Hope.

Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in. “Follow me.”

Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair. Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

“Sit.”

Confusion.

“W-What??” you stuttered.

“I said sit.” He replied.

You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt. You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you. His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

“Continue.” He stated.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked.

His eyes stared at you knowingly. “You didn’t get to cum, did you?” You shook your head, stunned at his words. “Continue.” He repeated.

“Right here?”

“Where else? It was good enough for you earlier.” His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction. So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access. Chisaki didn’t look down. Not right away, at least. Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent. With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you. It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening. You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.

Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to. You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers. It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened. Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat. Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him. You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel. You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him. Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build. It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat. But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least. You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal. Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge. You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat. Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths. Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum. You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit. The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure. Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants. Was he trying to hide it? Because he was failing. Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

“Again.” He ordered.

Your eyes bulged. “Again?”

He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently. You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight. He wanted you to do it again?

At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired. But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you. No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing. It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare. Do it again and see what happens.

Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb. Except for your clit. That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core. With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips. It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it. Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki. Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length. You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly. It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.

You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you. With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith. You wanted it. You wanted to cum so badly. But you wanted to see him even more. So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts. You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered. With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips. The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down. You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum. Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.

He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

“Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes. Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter. He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand. Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him. You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask. Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you. It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

It was the push your sensitive body needed. You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first. Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure. With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

You were given no respite. As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

“Again.”

Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity. You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation. It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out. “B-But... I can’t....”

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly. He was smirking at you. Cruelly.

“You can, and you will.” He said. A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings. “Again.” He repeated.

Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes. You stared at the exposed skin in awe. It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed. Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine. Maybe… maybe if you were good…

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit. Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily. Watching him masturbate to you was delicious. He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light. You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger? Maybe both?

You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand. The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to. It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

He continued his strokes, slow and easy. Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him. His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need. It was happening... he was going to cum...

But he never did. Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Or maybe he had his own agenda. But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

The hypocrite.

Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.

It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation. The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him. You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

“Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged. Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours. Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

Chisaki froze mid-stroke. “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

“Please,” You begged. “Don’t you want to?”

His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before. After all, what you were asking was no small order. You knew how he felt about touch. No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

But that was why you begged. And pleaded. And groveled. Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

“Please...” you whined one last time. “I’ll do anything. I need you, Kai...”

Something about you using his given name did something. His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck. Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat. You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie. He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable. He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence. Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

You waited.

“Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you. Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

“So fucking filthy.” He breathed. The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

“...And needy.” He added.

From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch. But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about. Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

“I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself. His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

You were pathetic. But you didn’t care. You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you. And if he wanted you to beg? To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock? You’d do that too.

His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning. A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first. So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.” He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous. It made you want to cry. You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

But it never came. And his hand never ventured further. Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak. Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words. “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

Chisaki tsked. “You’re afraid. Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk. The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

“Kai!” you protested.

He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered. “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before. Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there. But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade. Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand. His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow. Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between. And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast. His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return. You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft. The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

The temptation was too much. He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust. Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles. With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting. You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore. You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls. His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face. It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic. Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore. But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth. Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

“Shut up.” He growled.

You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him. And it didn’t matter to you either. You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast. All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint. That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

“So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.” His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted. It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock. Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls. It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep. But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling. Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up. Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

But he never did. Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock. You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state. A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

But he never did that either. Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance. Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes... His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth. It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected. The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

Whatever it was, it was short-lived. He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips. And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow. No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his. But you were quickly learning you couldn’t. His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left. And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?

The sun could never be controlled.

And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Again.”

#overhaul x reader #Kai Chisaki x reader #overhaul smut #mha smut #bnha smut #tw:bondage #tw:masturbation #tw:degradation #tw:overstimulation #tw:aggression #bnharem collab

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