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watevermelon · 5 months ago

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Practiced Patience | Yandere Jing Yuan x Reader

✧ Summary: Close friends with members of the High-Cloud Quintet, you wished every day was filled with peaceful sunsets and drinks, even if you and Jing Yuan bickered at every occasion. Who would have known it would all come crumbling down?

➳ High-Cloud Quintet!Jing Yuan x Reader ➳ Notes: LONG ONE SHOT; Forced Relationship, Emotional, Dark Angst, Lemon with Plot, dubcon, possessive, abuse of authority, hate sex ➳ Navigation

You knew better than to trust someone like Jing Yuan.

Jingliu claimed he was nothing to worry about.

An ambitious boy with no known birthplace, a thorn in their side as he often bickered with the rest of the Quintet. But you knew what you saw, a quiet tactician more meticulous than the others gave him credit for.

You stood to the side, not as a member of their infamous group, but rather a friend to both Jingliu and Dan Feng. They were both private in their ways, but remained steadfast when their minds were focused on a mission. It was clear that it was working, notching many glorious victories under the belt.

With only one notable issue…

After each triumph, Jingliu and Dan Feng were unabashedly transparent in their feelings, their one weakness that never failed to elicit an amused roll of your eyes.

Nonetheless, you found yourself in the unofficial role as matchmaker of the hopeless High-Cloud Quintet. It was almost amusing, how you rushed to sit in the middle of the table and beckoned Jing Yuan to your side, forcing the two couples to sit together.

Jingliu shot you a withering glare that could have pierced steel, her warning palpable in the air. Meanwhile, Dan Feng and Yingxing exchanged a knowing glance before simultaneously rolling their eyes at your antics. Without missing a beat, they moved to sit together, Jingliu and Baiheng on the other side.

Whatever, at the end of the day, you were the successful one with each couple sat together instead of pretending that the last few days of pining looks and flirtatious quips were nothing. Another night under the moonlight with your friends - it was perfect.

“I must say, watching you scurry around like this is nothing short of amusing.”

Almost perfect.

“Must you, Jing Yuan?”

“What?”

“Mock me if you will, but they will appreciate it in time.”

Fortunately, the man remained silent, content to sip on his drink while his gaze remained fixed on you. Despite your attempts to feign disinterest by gazing up at the night sky, he refused to look away, the unwavering attention in your peripheral unnerving. Enduring Jing Yuan's company was a small price to pay if it meant facilitating the blossoming romance between your friends. Glancing to the side, you couldn't help but smile as you observed Dan Feng leaning closer into Yingxing's space.

You closed your eyes, allowing the moments to slip by as you savored the peaceful ambiance of the night, accompanied by the gentle sway of the breeze and the comforting presence of drinks in hand. Their voices, though soft-spoken, enveloped you in a comforting embrace as you absently listened to their murmurs with quiet reverence.

“And when will you finally appreciate my attention?” A sudden whisper startled you out of your reverie, the warmth of his breath against your ear sending a shiver cascading down your spine.

Time and time again, Jing Yuan had made his peculiar infatuation with you known, yet it remained just that — an infatuation, devoid of any deeper significance. You couldn't help but notice the way his gaze trailed up your form, lingering on the curve of your bosom with a hunger that bordered on unsettling.

“Back off, boy.” You stated clearly, quietly shoving him out of your space.

"You see me as a boy, but it's been quite some time since I've surpassed even you in height," Jing Yuan remarked, his tone laced with a hint of amusement and a touch of defiance.

He was right, undoubtedly so.

Yet, clinging to the image of him as the young boy who first joined the Quintet served as a tether, keeping you grounded amidst the whirlwind of his affections. Despite the low timbre of his voice and the undeniable presence of his newfound muscles, you refused to dwell on such details.

This was Jing Yuan, the boy who often found himself embroiled in arguments with the others — the very same one you staunchly refused to entertain any romantic feelings for.

Jingliu called you an idiot on multiple occasions, stating that there was nothing wrong with getting involved with the now up-and-coming warrior.

Jing Yuan was a far cry from the boy you met eons ago, but even back then he had already made a name for himself. A troop member who had somehow led a bloodless victory aboard the Navis Astriger. It was no surprise that he was appointed quickly to a position of importance within the Cloud Knights.

And while he and Jingliu were not particularly close, they had mutual respect for one another as mentor and student. She had mentioned to you multiple occasions that the warrior was not a bad catch.

Rumor had it that Jing Yuan was going to be named the Arbiter-General of the Luofu Cloud Knights, not that any of that mattered to you.

But your friend did not see it , not like you did.

Beneath the surface, beyond the facade of a valiant hero defending the Xianzhou, you sensed an unsettling undercurrent lurking behind his golden eyes. While he exuded an aura of bravery and strength, there was an undeniable sense of something darker, something twisted, concealed within the depths of his being.

As you held his gaze, peering into the abyss of his golden stare, you could not shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye — a darkness that whispered of hidden desires.

And worst of all, they were aimed at you.

“And yet just a boy you continue to be.” You gave him a scathing reply back, raising your glass to your lips as if bringing that conversation to an end.

But Jing Yuan easily captured it from your grasp, drinking the rest before asking. “And what must I do for you to see me?”

“There is nothing.” You said with an air of finality, standing from your seat and excusing yourself for a moment - not that the others noticed, now in their own worlds.

Thankfully Jing Yuan had not followed, instead continuing to stare at you as he drank from your glass.

There it was again.

You almost regretted rising from your seat, subjecting yourself once again to his unrelenting stare. There was a palpable appreciation in his gaze as it roamed over your standing form, tracing the lines of your long legs and lingering on the expanse of skin you exposed. Sensing his intent to meet your eyes, you swiftly pivoted on your heel and turned to walk away, leaving behind the weight of his scrutiny.

Whatever, asshole.

It was still a fine night, even if he openly leered at you with a clear intent that you decidedly ignored.

These moments were perfect, not even Jing Yuan could ruin them.

And while these nights usually unfolded this way, with banter exchanged between you and Jing Yuan, you cherished these moments with your friends.

You treasured Jingliu's gentle smiles toward Baiheng, like whispers of affection carried on the evening breeze. You adored watching Dan Feng's earnest attempts at being suave, his efforts endearing despite their failure. Yingxing’s soft smile in response, unfazed and full of quiet adoration, was like moonlight gracing the night.

These small interactions, these cherished bonds, were the heartbeats of your evenings together.

And sometimes, just sometimes , Jing Yuan was not so annoying as usual.

There were moments when he would casually throw an arm across the back of your seat and you would allow it. He would lean into your space, a smirk playing on his lips, his presence somehow both familiar and infuriating. Yet, inevitably, he would push the fold too far, his smirk widening just before you pushed him back, reclaiming your space and restoring the delicate balance of your dance.

At times Jing Yuan would surprise you. A cup of your favorite tea, one you had briefly mentioned in passing. The next book in a series you rambled about. A beautiful necklace from a merchant who was in town for only the weekend, one that Jing Yuan did not allow you to refuse.

Once you had even watched him train, watching the sweat trail down his muscular build as his hair bellowed in the wind. It took everything in you to fight down a rosy blush.

But that was…

Something you did not even want to acknowledge.

Anyway.

In the company of your friends, surrounded by the serene glow of the moonlight, you felt an overwhelming desire to freeze time and remain in this moment forever. With a drink in hand and laughter in the air, you cherished the bond you shared with the Quintet, longing for eternity in their companionship.

But nothing ever truly worked out the way you wanted it to.

Baiheng, your dear friend who wanted nothing more than to gaze upon endless stars, would never get a chance to even see the Astral Express.

She paid the ultimate price, sacrificing herself for the others in their fight against Shuhu.

“The so-called heroes of the Xianzhou… And yet we can do nothing for our friend.” Dan Feng complained constantly, “How useless these titles are now.”

You could not shake the worry gnawing at your heart for Dan Feng and his deteriorating mental state. Increasingly, he voiced his anguish over the ceaseless cycle of death wrought by war, his spirit weighed down by the heavy burden of loss.

The spark that once ignited Dan Feng's eyes whenever he discovered a new book or shared a captivating story had dimmed, overshadowed by the relentless pursuit of unattainable dreams. He seemed consumed by a fervor akin to madness, his mind teeming with theories and schemes to resurrect Baiheng into the waking world.

Each member of the splintered Quintet grappled with their own demons, their sorrow manifesting in different ways, hidden behind veils of stoicism. At least Dan Feng was willing to speak to you, Jingliu appeared as nothing more than a hollow shell, her once vibrant spirit dimmed by the weight of her burdens. Yingxing refused to leave Dan Feng’s side.

You turned to Jing Yuan, the usually aloof schemer, now consumed by grief as he withdrew into the confines of his office, reluctant to emerge.

Casting aside your own hesitation, you ventured to visit Jing Yuan late into the night, bearing a steaming cup of tea procured from Tingyun's shop not long ago. At the time, you had hoped to bring it along on a night of victory.

He stood at the window, a solitary figure silhouetted against the backdrop of the moonlit sky, his hands folded behind his back as he gazed into the abyss beyond. The office was devoid of any other presence, engulfed in a palpable silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Jing Yuan?” You broke out the moment, surprised that he hadn’t moved at your appearance.

With a flick of his wrist, Jing Yuan beckoned you over, his expression tight with emotion as he silently invited you to approach. You extended the cup of tea towards him and he accepted it with ease, taking the kettle from your hands and placing it on his desk without a care for the watermarks it would leave on the papers below.

He sipped the tea slowly, his gaze fixed once again on the night sky as you stood beside him at the window. Did he truly need or even want your company in his moment of grief? With not a word spoken between you, a twinge of guilt gnawed at you for not reaching out to him sooner.

“If you need anything Jing Yuan, I’m here for you.” You broke the silence.

His golden eyes cast a glance downward at you, cloudier than you had ever seen them before. Despite the heaviness weighing upon him, a flicker of affection still lingered in his gaze, one that had always been there. Perhaps, in your haste, you had been too harsh on him, failing to recognize maybe he did sincerely have feelings for you.

You could not help the blush that spread across your cheeks, having the unabashed attention of the warrior. “Jing Yuan?”

Setting the cup down on the desk, he enveloped you in his arms, pulling you into a tight embrace that seemed to swallow you whole. Your senses were overwhelmed by Jing Yuan's presence — from his musky scent that surrounded you to the warmth of his touch. Despite the flood of sensations threatening to engulf you, you pushed them aside, focusing instead on returning his embrace, wrapping your arms around his middle and holding him close.

You felt him bury his face into your hair, inhaling deeply as if committing your scent to memory. It was a rare display of tenderness from Jing Yuan, perhaps the longest moment of gentle care he had ever bestowed upon you. It was always silly puns and flirtatious banter, never this new brand of sincere heartfelt affection.

In that fleeting instant, a wave of shyness washed over you, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment.

There was a sudden urge to pull away, but Jing Yuan moved to press his forehead against yours as he whispered. “If anything were to happen to you, I would not be able to take it.”

Your heart raced faster, his unexpected display of care contradicting the image of the young boy you had always perceived him to be. Even now, he loomed over you, his deep, husky voice sending a pang of want within your core.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently in place as he pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. You stood frozen in shock, never having imagined that this unexpected turn of events would transpire when you visited him tonight.

As his lips met yours in a tentative kiss, you felt a flutter of uncertainty mingled with a growing curiosity, unsure of the depths of your own feelings for him. Before this he was the one you refused to glance twice at, but now there was too much -- too much grief to think clearly.

“Jing Yu--!” He interrupted your voice, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss and swipe his tongue across yours.

Yet, despite your hesitance, Jing Yuan's passion remained unwavering.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. This was not the time to be making moves like this - he was transferring his guilt and his grief into something that needed more time. But as you felt the heat of his touch searing through you, igniting an ignored fire deep within you, you found yourself yielding to the overwhelming tide of desire.

With a soft gasp, you surrendered to the kiss, allowing yourself to be consumed by the intensity of the moment. His tongue danced against yours in a fervent embrace, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. In that fleeting instant, doubts and uncertainties melted away, leaving only the raw, unbridled passion that surged between you.

Jing Yuan lifted you effortlessly by the back of your knees, easily done with his strength. He gently placed you on his desk, the surface cool against your thighs. His actions were fervent, his desire unmistakable in the way he moved. Yet, despite the intensity, his touch remained surprisingly gentle.

He ravaged your mouth with his, his lips insistent and demanding, but tempered with a tenderness that belied the raw emotion of the moment. His hands cupped your face, fingers splayed along your jawline as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the contours of your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless. Each movement was precise and deliberate, as if he was savoring every second of your shared intimacy.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you responded to his lips, your own desire growing with each passing moment. The world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you, locked in an embrace of unspoken feelings.

The moment was laced with a gentle urgency, beckoning you to wrap yourself around him and return for more kisses. You leaned a hand on the table as he kissed at your neck, accidentally brushing the kettle off the desk and shattering it on the floor.

“Fuck.”

Jing Yuan's voice dropped to a husky whisper, "What an uncouth tongue. Shall I punish you for it?"

You smiled at his teasing, his usual banter back in full force. “Jing Yuan…”

“Say my name again, sweetheart.”

The moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the warrior, illuminating his long white hair as you held each other in this surprising embrace. With only the soft glow to witness your intimacy, everything seemed perfect.

Yet, you knew the truth.

It was too soon to be acting like this — his actions were driven by grief rather than genuine connection.

Fighting the urge to widen your smile at his response, you placed two steady hands on his shoulders to catch his attention. “You… We shouldn’t have done this.”

His smirk faded, replaced by pinched brows, but his hands remained firm at your waist. “Do you regret being with me?”

“That’s not it at all. Jing Yuan, this is the grief speaking.” You immediately responded.

“No, no it’s not.” He was incensed immediately, running a frustrated hand through his long locs.

You tried to grab his arm, to bring him back to you. “Then let’s wait together. You fought side-by-side with Baiheng for decades, you need more time to grieve.”

“Can you not admit that our feelings for each other have been building this entire time, not just at a time of loss?”

For each other?

You hesitated, unable to refute his question in fear of making the situation worse. Before this moment, you refused to even entertain any romantic notion toward the warrior. It was always him, taking and taking until he hit a boundary you refused to let him cross.

It seemed your words were unnecessary, since the grimace on his visage grew.

“How could I forget? You still underestimate me like the others.” He spit out, frustration mounting in his voice.

“That’s not true, Jing Yuan.’

“Yes, it is. Otherwise, must you think my affection is fleeting? I have wanted to be with you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Then we should wait until after --”

“Why? Because you believe my sorrows have taken hold of me?” Jing Yuan was clear in his words, “Even now you think low of me, a boy unable to even sort out his own feelings.”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Leave me. And do not return. It’s clear to me now that I love you, but I was nothing more than a passing fancy you enjoyed in your orbit.”

You whispered his name as he turned back to his place by the window, leaving you to sit dumbly at his desk. How had the argument progressed to this? To a nuclear proportion that he did not even want to glance in your direction?

A few minutes ago, you were lost in his touch and now Jing Yuan seemed to want nothing to do with you. Ashamed and saddened, you gathered yourself and left at his request.

Even if you wanted to make this right, to apologize and explain your thinking, the days to come were thrown into absolute turmoil.

To think it was Dan Feng that committed the unthinkable, attempting to resurrect Baiheng and betraying the whole of the Laoufu. And Yingxing, his closest confidant and possible love of his life, had even assisted him. Neither man had warned you of their plans that day, not even as it backfired in one of the worst ways possible.

You were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You were not a member of the High-Cloud Quintet.

You did not even have an elemental power granted to you by a path.

In the past, Dan Feng would offer to train you in case you needed it. But Jingliu had waved him away with a reassuring smile, saying that they would always be there to protect you anyway.

And yet here and now you were rendered flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you with scrapes littering your body. Phantom pain coarsed through every limb, making you question if your arm was even supposed to bend that way. With effort, one of your eyes struggled to open, but the pulsating pain in your head made it a daunting task. Despite the haze of agony enveloping you, you fought to grasp onto consciousness, struggling to make sense of the chaotic scene unfolding right in front of you.

Jingliu's movements across the Scalegorge Waterscape were swift, but also tinged with a recklessness that you had not seen before. You found it challenging to even breathe, having been blasted in the air after Dan Feng’s failed experiment.

With each passing moment, the burden of his and Yingxing’s failure weighed heavier upon you, pushing your body to exhaustion as it tinged with an unending pain.

There was no doubt about it in your mind.

You were struck with mara.

Why?

Why had Dan Feng betrayed his closest companions?

You doubted you were the only one with this new curse.

Yingxing was never one for the front-lines, usually a presence with the other military engineers. And yet you watched as a savage look overtook his visage and he wielded his hammer against the Cloud Knights.

You barely caught a glimpse of Dan Feng being led away in chains, Jing Yuan declaring his crimes just a few steps behind. To your shock, the Cloud Knights then turned their attention to you, hauling you off the ground and listing off accusations as you were dragged away to prison alongside him.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, the solitude of the prison cell weighed heavy on your spirit. There was no one by your side, no friendly faces to offer solace. The smaller cuts and bruises that adorned your body had been tended to, evidence of some form of care during your unconsciousness. Yet, as you cursed your own helplessness, a sense of frustration and despair settled in your bones. You were powerless here, unable to flee, unable to prevent Dan Feng's actions, and now trapped in the confines of this unforgiving prison.

The guards whispered of the unforeseen events, the heroes of the Xianzhou now a taboo topic - one dead, two in exile, and the catalyst of their ruin in his own cell somewhere in this very building.

And Jing Yuan, somehow now the Arbiter-General of the Luofu Cloud Knights.

The guards of your cell refused to speak to you, ignoring your pleas to even identify your accused crimes or to get in contact with a Master Diviner. This felt surreal, unjust. You had never assisted Dan Feng in his plans, and if you had known of his intentions, you would have done everything in your power to stop him. Desperation clawed at you as you tried to reason with the unyielding guards, your voice echoing futilely in the cold, unfeeling corridor.

Days, if not weeks, passed in the cold, unending prison. Isolation gnawed at you, the silence suffocating. You hadn’t spoken to anyone and your mental state frayed more each day, teetering on the brink of breaking entirely. Despair settled in, a heavy blanket that dulled your senses and made time blur into a continuous, agonizing stretch.

“How pitiful you have become.”

You blinked up at his tall stature.

Jing Yuan.

Of all people to come to your lone cell.

“To think I held love for you in my heart.” He spat out, “You aided the traitor of the Xianzhou.”

“I never helped Dan Feng in his great sin.” You defended yourself, “And if you truly knew me like you claimed to, you would know that.”

"You dare turn on the one willing to hear you out?" Jing Yuan taunted, his voice dripping with cold truth. "There are a few who claim to have seen you assist Dan Feng.”

“That’s not true!”

“So all of them are lying?”

You shook your head and turned, “Of course you would not believe me.”

Jing Yuan scoffed, “Is my presence here not tantamount to my desire to see you? There is no one else here. No one else to turn to. In all your years of loyalty to the Xianzhou, only I am willing to listen to your defense."

His words echoed in the cell, a cruel reminder of the precariousness of your situation. His eyes bore into yours, challenging and unyielding, leaving you to grapple with the bleak reality of your circumstances.

“And what? If I can’t convince you?”

“Then you will be exiled, like the others.”

Exiled.

To work as a slave for the IPC or end up in some other clutches, far from your home.

You felt useless, unable to fight. Unable to defend yourself.

"Nothing to say?" Jing Yuan's voice carried a mocking edge, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

You were always quick with your rebuttals, but now? Now that your life hung in the balance, at the mercy of someone who seemed to want nothing to do with you? He had already cast aside his closest friends; what fate awaited you?

“Then offer me one last favor Jing Yuan -- kill me.”

That was clearly not the response he was expecting. Surprise flickered across Jing Yuan's face, momentarily breaking his stoic demeanor.

Why should he be surprised?

As a Xianzhou native, you were destined to live hundreds of years of this now pitiful life. And to think that now you were struck with mara at such a young age. If you were to get caught up with the IPC, would you become their workhorse for centuries if not all of eternity? How long would it be before you decayed into a shell of who you were with nothing but a debt hanging over your shoulder?

It would mean bidding farewell to the life you once knew, condemned to an existence devoid of purpose, unable to end it even if you wished to.

“What?” His voice broke you, “You would rather die than beg me for your life?”

“You already hate me, don’t pretend. This outcome has already been decided. And if I were cast aside from the Alliance, it would be a death sentence that I would be unable to claim.” You scoffed, one last rebuttal that you could afford.

Jing Yuan remained silent, a storm of emotions swirling behind his eyes. You could discern a few - confliction, surprise, but mostly anger simmering just beneath the surface. Had he not known that you were struck with mara?

He stepped up to the bars of the cell, “I could never hurt you.”

“Someone can.” You refused to look at him, furious at his attempt to capitalize on your lowest point. “Make the funeral private, at least.”

The general remained at the prison bars, his presence looming over you like a shadow. Despite your refusal to engage further in conversation, his imposing figure seemed to fill the room with an unspoken tension. The realization of your irreversible fate struck you like a hammer blow.

If you were to be exiled from the Xianzhou, who else could comprehend the curse that had befallen you? With each passing century, you would grow and mutate, becoming a grotesque monster. Eventually, even the simplest acts of thought would be beyond your reach, leaving you trapped in a nightmarish existence for eternity.

You would rather end it now than be trapped in a body that would never die.

A young diviner was the next to visit you. She made it known she was only here at General Jing Yuan’s request, attempting to scry into your past to help prove your innocence at the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae.

(A part of you found it holy ironic. The Quintet had served the Alliance for decades as their hero, but now all they would be remembered for is a single person’s moment of weakness.)

And yet…

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing of use for your trial.”

“Nothing?”

“It seems you were rather close to Dan Feng… Including the early days of when he first concocted the idea of his sin.”

“I was always close to Dan Feng.” You argued, “It was not a secret that I was a friend to all the members of the Quintet. What of the people who claimed to see me during the incident? Why are they claiming something they never saw?”

The diviner glanced at the guards briefly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It is a member of the Quintet who is citing your involvement.”

What?

Who?

Forget it, now was not the time to be dwelling on that. You had her attention now, perhaps the only time you would be allowed to speak to the diviner. You had one more question to ask, one more selfish request despite all he had put his friends through.

“What about asking Dan Feng himself, surely he can prove I was not involved?”

Immediately, her face looked conflicted, a frown deepening the lines around her mouth as she considered how to respond to your question. Her eyes darted away from yours, searching for the right words or perhaps the least painful truth.

“Dan Feng no longer exists.”

No.

She jumped at your outcry, a harsh wail contrasting her previously soft tone of voice. You did not blame her when the diviner made a swift exit after. There wasn’t much else she could do anyway, leaving you to wrestle with your anguish alone.

The room seemed to close in on you, each shadow deepening the sense of despair. You were left with your thoughts, heavy and suffocating, attempting not to think of the molting rebirth your friend was possibly forced through.

Dan Feng had been your friend.

And now he no longer existed.

How long ago had it been since you were joking around with him and Yingxing, sharing quiet moments as the sun dipped below the horizon? That memory felt like a distant dream now, tinged with the bitter sting of reality.

You cried endlessly, your tears only a single drop of your despair; how you wished fervently for the clock to strike backwards. To think that the kind-hearted Baiheng had sacrificed her life for her closest companions, only for her noble act to be twisted into the catalyst for one's descent into betrayal and madness.

How could life be so cruel?

Tears flowed incessantly, streaming down your cheeks like a relentless downpour, transcending even the hours that you wallowed in your grief. The guards complained at your wailing, but you ignored them in your unending sadness.

But not even you could ignore a phantom touch that gently caressed the crown of your head. Blinking through the haze of your tears, your vision blurred by the curtain of familiar white hair that surrounded you. His lips brushed against your forehead again, a tender gesture that stirred confusion.

Jing Yuan in all his glory, inside your cell and offering small kisses to your person.

What the fuck was he doing here?

“You could have it all back — your family, your life here on the Xianzhou.” He murmured between open-mouth kisses, “I promise I will do everything in my power to take care of you.”

Jing Yuan.

Presumably the last remaining member of the Quintet still on the Laoufu.

Both Jingliu and Yingxing fled the Alliance the moment they were called to be imprisoned. Dan Feng was long gone. None of them would even have the chance to implicate you.

Jing Yuan.

The one person who could benefit from your imprisonment.

You had nothing to offer - you were not a legendary artisan like Yingxing or a formidable fighter like the others. Jingliu had always joked that you were under her protection, if anything were to come to pass, that she would always be there for you. But now she was gone and Jing Yuan’s authority was unchecked.

The boy they argued with ceaselessly.

The one whom many constantly underestimated, as if he had not already proven the power of his meticulous schemes.

He was the cause of this.

You had no proof, but the warning bell in your gut was at full blast as he attempted to lay more kisses on your person.

The general was the only one with the authority to let you out of this dreary cell. And time and time again, Jing Yuan had made it known exactly what he wanted from you. Except now, you could no longer deny him.

Jing Yuan had truly ripped apart every last defense you had.

Face exile from the Laofu, left to wander the cosmos forever as either a slave and eventually a monster. Or, be subject to his every whim and want.

Everything came with a price.

What must you pay?

You felt the heat emanating from Jing Yuan's body as he drew you closer, your lips meeting with a hunger that spoke of desires long held under the surface.

His tongue met no resistance, roughly exploring past your lips to get you to succumb to his advances. The sound of your shared breaths, ragged and hurried, filled the air between you, punctuated by hungry moans. A hand threaded through your hair, holding you fast as your lips clung to each other, each kiss a promise and a plea.

But how could you forget the true reality around you - this dingy prison cell where the person you felt the most conflicted for held the key. And with each second, he tempted you into this swirling vortex of his carnal hunger, the slickness of your mixed saliva and the dizzying sensation of his lips a constant reminder of what he truly wanted.

It was clear the silent command he was giving you.

He had the power to grant you your life back.

And if you wanted it, you needed to work for it.

That look on his face, the one that Jingliu refused to see, returned back in full force. It was predatory, charged with a lust that had long been at bay. And now, Jing Yuan held the reins, his eyes gleaming as he finally claimed the upper hand.

You hated him.

Why was he the only thing you had left?

Had he planned this all along?

All you felt was molten fury, wanting to spit at his face and push him aside.

You surrendered to his embrace, reciprocating his kiss with a fervent response. Waving that internal white flag, Jing Yuan had all but broken down every last barrier in a total victory. His tongue explored every contour of your mouth, leaving no inch untouched, as if staking a possessive claim over your very essence.

Suddenly he pushed you down with an unexpected force, the impact jolting through your body as you landed flat on your ass, the rough surface grazing your already tattered clothing. Gasping, you barely had a moment to gather your thoughts before the general followed suit. With Jing Yuan’s knees on either side of your hips, he loomed over you, his presence dominating as his lower garments were pushed down further and further.

Your mind teetered on the brink between shock and arousal, allowing only seconds of thought before Jing Yuan had unapologetically held his cock inches from your face.

The veins, engorged and pulsating, seemed to dance beneath his velvety, erect flesh. The prominent ridge glistened with a bead of pre-cum, its presence nearly tangible in the charged air. The sight of it, so close to your face, ignited a primal fire within you. And without thought, you licked at your lips, a reflexive reaction to the sudden craving for the taste of him.

You had rejected him, constantly.

Refused to look in his direction.

And yet here you were, eyes drinking in every nuance and curve of his bold offering.

The general’s smirk deepened, a predator reveling in the sight of his prey's desire. With a firm grip carding through your hair, he roughly forced your head closer to the throbbing, tenacious length of his cock. He was surprisingly gentle as he rubbed his hard dick against your face - the hot, slick flesh slapping against your skin.

For so long you only had biting words and quick rebuttals, calling him nothing more than a boy for decades.

Even if you gave up your body to him, there was still that undeniable indignant look on your face as he rubbed his hard length against your skin. Jing Yuan would give anything to be in your head right now, imagining all the scathing words that you were surely throwing at him with each passing second.

He had broken your defenses, ruined all your plans to keep him at bay.

The general’s eyes glimmered with dark satisfaction at the sight of your submission. The absence of your fiery verbal retorts, the hallmark of your indomitable spirit, struck an unexpected chord within him.

He wanted more.

Jing Yuan wanted to ruin you.

Being gentle and kind did nothing, falling only on deaf ears. It was only when you were cornered, trapped and alone, did you finally take a second glance in his direction.

You could barely manage tentative, small licks at the head of Jing Yuan's throbbing cock. The salty taste of his arousal danced on your tongue. With an unrelenting yet deliberate force, he pushed your head further, forcing you to take more of his length between your lips. The intrusion stretched you, cheeks hollowing as you struggled to accommodate him.

The general’s eyes raked over your flushed features, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the slight tremor that followed his shallow thrusts. How many nights had he imagined this very sight? From under his desk to the soft sheets of his bedroom, Jing Yuan must have thought of taking you over a thousand times. The dreams of you disheveled beneath his touch was nothing compared to the submissive, wide-eyed expression you were shooting him now.

Jing Yuan knew that your apparent submission to him was nothing but a ruse, glimmers of defiance still shimmering in your gaze. He could almost hear the torrent of curses that must have been flung his way in the privacy of your thoughts. And oddly enough, the knowledge that you were harboring this fierce, passionate hatred for him held a perverse allure for Jing Yuan. He wanted to hear every venomous word from your lips, more passionate than he had ever seen you.

It was better than the cold vacuum of indifference.

“Choke on my cock, sweetheart.”

You let out a small, involuntary moan, embarrassed at how his harshness had ignited a fierce pang of want in the pit of your stomach. The sight of Jing Yuan's triumphant smirk only served to stoke it further, pushing your head down as he forced you to accept his length more fully.

Each time you tried to pull back, his hips would follow, driving himself deeper. There was no fighting his strength, especially as he loomed over you with his cock down your lips.

It was obscene, the guttural sound of his hard length entering your mouth. Your hands flew to his stomach, open palms against his clothes as he overwhelmed your senses. But it hardly held him back, more and more inches disappearing behind your lips.

“Mhmmm—!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to return the favor later.” He murmured appreciatively, enjoying the view.

Unable to resist, you could not help but look up at him, eyes locking as he rushed to thrust impossibly deeper. You regretted the eye contact a second later, since you felt his cock twitch in your mouth at the connection. Of course he loved any amount of attention you would give him.

He was insatiable.

And you had been making him worse and worse, a ticking time bomb until he could forcibly stake his claim.

You could only imagine what you looked like, panting like a whore in need as you choked on his cock, the only one you had ever sucked.

He fucked your mouth like a hole, eyes rolling heavenward as he was relentless in his movements. You could barely move your tongue, his thrusts merciless even in the face of your tears. Even worse, shame pooled in your stomach as you felt slick pool at your cunt, turned on somehow by his rough handling.

The general lifted a knee upward, forcing an even deeper angle down your throat as tears trailed down your cheeks. The sudden, brutal change in position left you gagging, throat constricting in a futile effort to resist the invasion.

You nearly screamed for mercy before he pushed you off entirely, barely catching yourself with outstretched palms on the floor.

“I hate you.” You spit out, unable to stop yourself.

But his smirk only grew, gentle hands methodically peeling each article of clothing from your body. The tattered garments, your last vestiges of dignity, fell like a rain of defeat to the cold, unyielding floor of the prison cell.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Pride all but shattered, you could only do as he asked as he maneuvered you facing the prison bars. Your palms were splayed out on the rough ground, knees digging into the uneven crevices of the prison.

The bed was for lovers, Jing Yuan was fucking you like a whore.

A cacophony of curses raged in your mind. Your fury, however, faltered at the sound of a throat clearing, the interruption echoing past the prison bars. The realization of the two guards flanking the door, their attention fixed on the wall in the distance, weighed heavy on your heart. They could not see you, but surely they could hear every single moan and movement.

Fear prickled at the base of your spine, a reminder that your forced intimacy was not as private as you had initially presumed.

Truly, there was no one in the entirety of the Xianzhou who was on your side.

Not anymore.

Your eyes, now wide with apprehension, flickered from the guards to Jing Yuan, uncertainty and trepidation clouding your gaze. And, of course, what had the asshole done? The general simply kept on smirking, that infuriating look on his face making it clear he knew about your worry.

“All will know that you are mine.”

He shoved you further, head down ass up as he kneeled down behind you. You expected more rough handling, a vicious cock down your hole at best. But instead a soft, wet appendage rubbed about your clit. You whined in surprise as he licked your lower pearl, fingers trailing circles along your entrance.

The last thing you expected him to do was give you any pleasure, focused solely on him.

His fingers, trailing gentle circles around your now-sensitive entrance, left you on the precipice between shock and arousal. The change in his demeanor, from the strong general to a teasing lover, left your heart racing, your body caught between desire for his touch and the lingering fear that their privacy was a fragile, fleeting illusion.

“ This is my greatest treasure.” He clarified, his breath felt right on your skin.

You groaned once more, feeling him lick and prod at your hole.

You could endure his rough handling and harsh words, but Jing Yuan’s version of love was a torment of another kind. It was a twisted, sinister force, dark and corrupted. Each kiss carried a haunting shadow, every touch a reminder of the darkness entwining his affection.

His love was a cruel paradox, making you question every moment of tenderness you shared in the past.

Jing Yuan cradled the skin of your hips gently, his fingers delving into your velvety depths with a tenderness that was both unexpected and disconcerting. His thumb, circling your engorged clit, teased a sweet, exquisite ache, while his tongue flicked at your entrance in delicate, probing motion, each touch drawing a guttural moan from your parted lips.

The gentle invasion of both digits and tongue, however, was hard to deny. The pleasure that blossomed within you fought against even your mental resistance. Fear and lust mingled, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice.

In this quiet moment, the only sounds were your ragged moans, the soft wet suction of his mouth, and the squelching of his fingers entering and withdrawing from you. The tenderness of his actions made you squirm uncomfortably, expecting more from the general.

But Jing Yuan was deliberate in his slow actions, tongue dancing along the contours of your clit, and eliciting delicious shudders through your quivering body. Your thighs trembled, the muscles tensing around his head as he feasted on you, savoring the sight of your body succumbing to the ebb and flow of his expert touch.

“Please--!”

“Please what, my love?”

But you refused to answer further, choosing instead to roll your hips, your body pleading for more of his touch. Jing Yuan reveled in the attention, the desperate plea in your voice only fueling his satisfaction. His fingers moved with swift purpose, exploring your depths until only his knuckles remained outside your messy hole.

“More, more!”

You teetered on the edge of begging, your parted lips dripping with saliva as you struggled to contain yourself. Jing Yuan heard your desperate pleas, but for whatever reason refused to yield to your words. Each repetition of his name escaped your lips like a fervent prayer, punctuated by the rhythm of your shallow breaths. The sound elicited a guttural moan from him, a raw expression of arousal as his tongue danced tantalizingly over your lower pearl.

“Who do you belong to?”

You were keenly aware of the answer Jing Yuan desired and the allure to comply with his wishes was almost overwhelming. He had you panting, your breath hitching in your throat as you eagerly rolled your hips back in time with his fingers, craving every inch of his touch. With each movement, you were propelled closer to the precipice of ecstasy, your body trembling with anticipation. His tongue traced rough circles on your pearl, each stroke igniting a fiery wave of pleasure that surged through your veins. You were on the cusp of climax, your hips rolling in rhythmic harmony with his touch as you chased the elusive edge of release.

“Who do you belong to?” The general asked again.

He had your body.

The only thing you could afford left was your mind, and stupidly you refused to give in.

“ No one .” You barely uttered a response, stubborn even as you panted like a bitch in heat.

“No one, huh?” Jing Yuan chuckled, not surprised by your continued resistance.

He would enjoy making you take that back.

Your whines of frustration filled the air as he abruptly ceased his actions, leaving you dangling on the precipice of cumming. You were on the brink of finishing, the tantalizing edge of release just within reach. His chuckle cut through the silence, mocking your desperate movements as you shamelessly thrust your hips towards him, consumed by a primal need to release the building tension.

With a firm grip, he lifted your hips, pressing your front against the unforgiving ground as you struggled to muster the strength to support yourself. The unmistakable sensation of his cock against your backside sent a pang of short-lived happiness, his arousal pressing against the tender skin of your ass, a silent promise of what was to come.

Your desperate whimpers filled the air as his girthy length continued to evade you, teasingly rubbing against your heated skin. A surge of need flooded through you as he toyed with your clit, his hand wrapping around your front to caress your cunt with tantalizing strokes. With agonizing slowness, he traced the outline of his erect cock against your slick entrance, each time making you moan. The teasing friction left you trembling as you yearned for him to finally plunge into you fully.

“Please more--!”

“Perhaps you can take a lesson in patience.” He murmured against you, leaning in to plant kisses along your back. His white hair grazed your skin, causing an involuntary tremble to ripple through you.

“Need more, please please please…” You repeated absently.

“Then give yourself fully to me.” He commanded.

But you, in your stupid brain, refused yet again to give in.

With calculated precision, Jing Yuan teased the head of his shaft at your entrance, eliciting gasps of pleasure from both of you. The yearning for more was undeniable, a mutual desire to envelop him whole.

His heated moan reverberated in your ear, sending waves of arousal through your body as his free hand explored your form. With a fierce grip, Jing Yuan seized the soft skin of your breast, his touch both demanding and electrifying. With each shallow thrust, his urgency grew, pressing against your skin with an intoxicating intensity.

“Give in, my love.” He whispered in your ear hotly, his deep voice making you clench around nothing. “I am the only one who can make you feel this good.”

You shook your head in denial, but you were unable to convince even yourself anymore that this was the right choice.

“Fine, I can make this night much worse for you.”

Before you could even rethink your refusal, Jing Yuan seized your hips once more, exerting pressure to push the plush curves of your ass together as he slid his hard cock between them.

“Wait-!”

You wanted to scream as he rubbed his cock against between your ass cheeks, the sensation brought little pleasure for you. The only source of arousal stemmed from his wandering hand, which continued to caress circles on your sloppy clit.

“This is enough for me, is it enough for you?” Jing Yuan goaded you, still an asshole even as he slowly lost himself to your body.

His escalating moans filled the air, matching the quickening rhythm of his thrusts against the skin of your ass. The sight of him, sweaty and panting, was undeniably enticing, his deep voice resonating as he indulged in pleasure. The seductive allure of his arousal made you yearn for more, already regretting the decision to withhold your answer.

“Please, I take it back! I take it back…!”

He ignored your pleas and thrust against you with a relentless force, showing no signs of stopping. The general harshly pulled your waist back to meet his hips, rubbing the contours of your ass against his throbbing cock. The controlled rhythm of his thrusts dissolved into frantic urgency, his panting breaths a sign of his hurried pursuit of release.

In a final act of cruelty, Jing Yuan positioned himself at your entrance and prodded the head of his shaft at your tight entry. Immediately you clamped down on him, receiving a moan in response as you wanted nothing more than to be fucked.

Finally were you about to experience relief?

Or was he about to--?

“Jing Yuan…!”

His cock pierced you with little reprieve, the slap of his balls against your thighs as his warm essence spilled into you. You were hardly close to the end, having been denied by the pause of his teasing hands. His hips pressed firmly against yours as he reached the peak of his ecstasy, an uncomfortable wave coursing through you like a sudden tide.

Jing Yuan indulged in a few more shallow thrusts, relishing the sensation of your hot pussy clamping down on his cock. You could not ignore the uncomfortable sensation of his cum dripping out of your hole, surprised at how much he released inside you. Despite the lingering need for more, you doubted that anything less than total surrender on your part would be acceptable to him.

“Have you made up your mind? If not, I’m not against pushing together your tits and making you watch as I fuck your--”

“Fuck me, Jing Yuan.”

The general notably paused, gently lifting you by the waist to face him. You were effortlessly drawn into his lap, his powerful arms guiding you as you instinctively wrapped yours around his neck. Close to him now, his voice was low and intimate as he spoke.

“What was that, my love?”

“My body belongs to you, do whatever you want with me.”

“Uh-uh, that’s not the right answer and you know it.” He tsked at your words, “You know what I want. Give all of yourself to me.”

You pouted at the general, always astute even as he was losing his sanity.

“All of me is yours.”

“And all of my love is yours.” He replied back, connecting your lips together in a much more intimate embrace.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as he kissed you, his lips fervently exploring your skin. He feasted on you, leaving red splotches along your neck and collarbone before descending lavish attention to the soft skin of your nipple. A moan escaped your lips at the sensation, earning a reciprocal groan from Jing Yuan as he reveled in the pleasure you shared.

“ Fuck .” The general murmured this time, a wandering hand going to your pussy to rub circles there yet again.

His firm fingers, hard and calloused from battles, circled your entrance, feeling the remnants of his earlier creampie drip out of you. A moan of appreciation escaped Jing Yuan as he pushed some of his cum back in, eliciting a mixture of surprise and pleasure from you. Despite the odd sensation, he silenced any protests with his passionate tongue on yours.

At the end of your sanity, you rolled your hips against his in a desperate plea to finally feel his hard cock inside you. His groan of approval echoed loudly in the room, happy to see you finally take some initiative.

“Fuck yourself on me, my love.”

Not one to be told twice, you aligned yourself with his erect length and immediately shoved yourself downward.

A simultaneous groan of pleasure escaped the both of you as you joined together, throwing your head back as you barely managed to maintain your grip around his neck. Jing Yuan enveloped your nipple back into his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin as you lifted your waist up and down, setting a rhythm that drove you both to new heights of ecstasy.

“That’s it; lose yourself to me.” He encouraged you loudly, his moans resonating in your ear, yet you reciprocated with equally vocal responses.

You watched as even he arched his head backward in sheer pleasure, his eyelids fluttering as he stared at your bouncing tits. With every movement, you fought the urge to release a scream, the sensation on the verge of overwhelming you completely. Sensing your desperation, he effortlessly lifted his hips to meet yours, assisting you as you rode his length up and down.

It was hard to remember your hatred for him as he brought you to new heights never seen before. His long cock hit all the right places, prominent veins running against your slick walls. It beckoned you to give in, to lose yourself and beg for his cum.

Your body glistened with a sheen of sweat, legs locked around his hips as your core enveloped his leaking cock. The cell was alive with the primal sounds of your coupling, the slap of flesh against flesh punctuating the air in a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of your heart. Encouraged by his support, Jing Yuan intensified the rhythm, urging you to delve deeper and move faster, propelling you both towards the edge of euphoria with each relentless thrust.

“I’m.. close! More more more…!” You babbled without thought, making his dick twitch at your unabashed whine.

“Cum around my cock.” The general urged you on, “My sweet, sweet love.”

The frenzied pace of your hips accelerated, bodies colliding in an undeniable chase of raw want. In that moment, time seemed to stretch and warp, as the crescendo of your climax blinded you like a flash of lightning. The world around you dissolved, leaving your body to writhe and buckle under the euphoric onslaught. The spasms of your orgasm rippled through you, each contraction of your inner walls like a vice around Jing Yuan's shaft.

You felt your essence mix in your belly, spilling out as Jing Yuan continued in his onslaught. You cried out in a mixture of pleasure and new pain, your senses overwhelmed by the stimulation as he continued to fuck your womb with unbridled fervor, treating you like an abandoned, wet hole. Desperately, you pushed at his hard abs, pleading for him to cease, but he remained undeterred, thrusting into your pussy with the unstoppable determination of a man possessed.

“Less, less! No more Jing Yuan!” You begged between tears.

“You gave yourself up to me. Which means I decide when you are done.”

“Wha…”

“Open your mouth.”

You mechanically followed his request, your body bouncing in rhythm with each forceful thrust into your tight cunt. The inches of his hard cock rubbed deliciously against your velvety walls; you barely grasped his movement as he leaned closer, his dominance palpable as he spat down your throat. It was a visceral display of his control, leaving you breathless under his commanding presence.

You swallowed his saliva without question, your mouth opening wider as if beckoning more. His moan of approval reverberated throughout the room. Meanwhile, his cock appeared to swell even larger inside your sloppy pussy, responding eagerly to your submissive display.

Possessed to get a deeper angle, he seized your hips and swiftly flipped you around, placing you on your back on the unforgiving ground. You grimaced momentarily at the sudden movement, but before you could protest, he lifted a single knee to rest on his shoulder, positioning himself for better access. The angle was torturous, his thrusts delving further inside you, amplifying the already heightened sensitivity of your dripping wet pussy.

“Jing Yuan…!” You repeated his name continuously, singing high praises that stoked his ever growing ego.

“What do you want me to do, my love?”

“Cum inside me..!” You screamed out this time, sure that all the other prisoners could definitely hear you.

He smiled like a man overtaken by desire, before crashing his lips onto yours, a hand behind your head steadying you against him. Lost in the overwhelming pleasure, you could barely respond to his open mouth kisses. The harsh slap of his balls against your skin barely registered amidst the cacophony of pleasure coursing through you. All your focus was on the hard length of his shaft disappearing further into your eager cunt, each thrust driving you further into a blissful oblivion.

All you could hear was your name, spilled eagerly from his lips.

It was somehow too much and not enough, all at once.

He maneuvered another one of your legs above his shoulder, ensnaring you in an unyielding mating press from which there was no escape. Drool escaped your mouth as he thrust downward into you, his movements devoid of rhythm as he relentlessly pursued his own climax. Your shared essences splashed disgustingly with each roll of his hips, the slick sounds loud as his cock pierced you. He was a man driven solely by desire, his golden eyes darkened as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

Abruptly, Jing Yuan's body stiffened, his hips jerking forward to press against yours. Once again, he released his hot cum deep within your stuffed pussy, the scorching liquid overflowing into your womb and cascading onto the floor below in a torrential rush. You felt many dribbles down and across your trembling thighs. Despite your overflowing cunt, Jing Yuan refused to part, plugging up your still-quivering entrance.

“I love you more than I know how to love. And I will spend every day reminding you of that fact.” He murmured on your skin, breath warm as he spoke.

Your senses returned to you immediately, a wave of shame and embarrassment washing over you. You berated yourself for succumbing to Jing Yuan's advances, feeling foolish and naive for allowing him to cloud your judgment. There was no way the general would ever let you forget the day you begged for his cock like a whore.

And now, it was highly possible that this coupling would connect your fates together in a future child forevermore.

The weight of regret must have been evident on your face, as Jing Yuan responded by rolling his hips and pressing his lips to your neck in a tender gesture. Despite the discomfort brewing in your lower regions, he only responded with a deep, satisfied moan, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil raging within you.

You were in awe at the sudden realization.

There was undoubtedly still a hard, erect cock inside you.

“Oh my god.” You could not help but comment.

“Perhaps I am better off fucking you within an inch of your life?” He punctuated his question with another shallow thrust, “This seems more to your liking than gestures of my love and affection.”

You hated him.

You hated how well he knew every inch of your soul.

And you especially hated how the veins of his cock felt against your messy pussy.

But Jing Yuan remained indifferent to your pleas.

He was determined to demonstrate just how much he loved and wanted you, his actions speaking louder than words ever could. Despite your constant begging for reprieve, for him to pause and give you a moment's respite, Jing Yuan showed no signs of stopping. He continued to fuck you relentlessly on the floor, heedless of your tears. He lifted you against the wall next, adjusting your legs wide above his shoulder to reach an even deeper angle.

“No! No more please…!”

“I will make you regret ever seeing me as less than a man.” He whispered against your skin, balls slapping against you.

And you cried even more as he brought you to the bars of your prison cell. Your heart sank as you caught sight of the guards stationed at your door, the sole witnesses to the scene unfolding before them. Desperately, you begged Jing Yuan to stop, to consider the audience to his actions, but he remained unfazed. With a callous disregard for your pleas and ears of the guards, he pierced his cock into you against the cold metal bars, his climax marking yet another instance of his dominance over you, uncaring of the audience as he released himself inside your womb.

Jing Yuan claimed he was making you pay for your freedom.

He subjected every inch of your body to his abuse, leaving a trail of red hickies adorning your skin as he claimed your body. From your sopping pussy to your small hands to your bruised tits, his mouth had explored every inch of your flesh, leaving you unable to keep track of the countless times he spilled his cum inside you.

In hindsight, you doubted there would be a single night henceforth that did not end with him emptying his balls in your hot cunt.

Perhaps being sold as a slave to the IPC was a more merciful fate than this.

You woke up in an unfamiliar place, sprawled on a vast bed covered in layers of plush, fluffy blankets. As you sat up, the luxurious feel of fine silks against your skin caught your attention. The loose robe you wore was exquisite, its fabric whispering against your freshly cleaned skin.

Despite the soft, decadent surroundings, the marks Jing Yuan had left on you remained, stark reminders of the previous night's intensity.

Your hair, now free of knots and tangles, flowed smoothly over your shoulders, a far cry from the disheveled state it had been in during your imprisonment. The room around you exuded opulence, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh cell you had endured for a seemingly unending amount of time.

“‘Morning, my love.” Jing Yuan greeted as he entered from the other room.

He had that same infuriating smirk on his face, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he approached the bed. Placing his palms firmly on the mattress, he leaned over to you as he brushed his lips against your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Perhaps we can go clothing shopping together today.”

The audacity of Jing Yuan to sport such a carefree smile, oblivious or perhaps taking joy in the turmoil he had inflicted upon you. How could he possibly pretend that everything was alright after coercing you into surrendering your very existence?

Your simmering anger must have been palpable, evident in the tightening of your jaw and the quiet fire smoldering in your eyes. Yet, instead of recoiling at your fury, Jing Yuan's smirk only widened, his demeanor remaining infuriatingly composed as he observed your seething discontent.

“Or would you rather stay here?” He tapped the bed with his fingers, “I’m sure we can think of plenty to do.”

You pushed away the blankets and stood, “I’d rather go out.”

“Without me, right?”

You held your tongue, eyes ablaze with tapered fury. In the face of Jing Yuan's smug demeanor, you feared that silence was the only retort you were allowed to show.

The general leaned over the bed, catching your elbow and shoving you back onto the bed.

“Say it.” He goaded you as he loomed over your body, a hand caressing the cascade of hair that spilled around you.

“What?”

“I can almost hear those scathing comments you once graced me with. I want to hear it.”

“I hate you.”

You seized the chance to finally speak your mind, refusing to hold back as your statement held every ounce of hatred you harbored towards him. Perhaps you would express yourself more in as many ways as he would tolerate.

“Again, my love.” He whispered against your skin, lowering himself to nip at your neck.

“I hate you more than anything and anyone.”

“How passionate you must feel for me.” How infuriating his tone was, if only because Jing Yuan was being genuine. “I’ll be what inhabits your mind for all time. Your love, your hatred - this is enough for me.”

“I will never love you.”

His tongue traced a path along the curve of your collarbone, leaving a lingering sensation that you decidedly chose to ignore. With a slow, deliberate movement, he then brought his nose to your neck, inhaling deeply as if to fully appreciate your scent, the creep.

Foreheads pressed together, your gaze locked with his, unable to look away from his golden gaze.

“And I cannot wait to prove you wrong.”

553 notes · View notes

peachdues · 1 year ago

Text

Bundle of Joy -- Part 2

Here it is!

I was not expecting Bundle of Joy to get as much love as it did, so thank you all for your kind words! It's a long one.

Read Part One here and the Prequel One-Shot here

CW: blood, some NSFW-esque content, swearing, angry Sanemi, soft Sanemi. Description of birth.

Tag list: @animeblog123 @fujochann @bonten-boys @tom01ka @theawkwardblackbee @stuckinthewrongworld @harpy-space

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Sanemi had been pissed when his crow had swooped over his head two days earlier, the little cretin squawking at him to head “Head East! Head East!” To kill a demon that had managed to evade capture by lower-ranked slayers.

Whether it had been by luck or divine intervention, Sanemi had not had a mission for nearly the entirety of Y/N’s final month of pregnancy, and he had been elated to devote every second of his days to her and her needs, as their child’s arrival drew nearer.

Truthfully, the Wind Pillar had never known bliss quite like what he felt when he woke up each morning with Y/N tucked securely in his arms, his hands resting on the generous swell of her pregnant belly as he eagerly awaited the powerful kick of their child that signaled all was well. He had never before experienced the utter ecstasy of feeling the silky warmth of his lover’s skin as he trailed his lips down from her neck to her breasts, heavy and tender, as she fought to quiet the breathy moans and sighs that left her throat under the ministrations of his tongue on her sensitive nipples. And it had been pure heaven to wrap his lips around that small bundle of nerves resting at the apex of her delicious thighs, as he lapped greedily from her core that seemed to perpetually drip with her honey thanks to the excess of pregnancy hormones.

And as much as he loved the intimate mornings with Y/N, he had never felt more peaceful than when he sat beside her on his engawa, her back leaning against his chest and his arms circled around her, as they both sipped tea and watched the sunset after he finished training for the day.

But all of that had come crashing to a screeching halt when his crow had brought him orders to dispense of some lowly demon that the piss-poor excuse of lower-ranked slayers couldn’t handle on their own. Pathetic.

As he prepared to leave, he pressed a soft kiss to the generous curve of Y/N’s heavily pregnant belly, before rising to kiss her once, twice on the lips, and again on her forehead, his lover reveling in his embrace.

“Don’t you have this kid until I’m back,” Sanemi had murmured against her lips, brushing his callused thumb over her cheeks.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Because I can control that,” but she nestled her face deeper into his palm. “How ‘bout you get back here before I go into labor?”

“I’ll be back before you know it, gorgeous.” Sanemi winked at her, imparting her with a final kiss before disappearing in a swirl of wind.

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

It had taken Sanemi a day and a half to track the demon into a swamp in the East. Sanemi had found its lair, littered with human bones, just as the demon rose from the brackish water, and lunged for him. The demon had not been particularly strong, but it was able to manipulate shadow, which is how Sanemi supposed it had managed to kill a large group of lower-ranked slayers. The familiar heat of the excitement of battle flooded his veins, as Sanemi – who had not had the opportunity to fight for nearly a month – relished the chance to let out some pent-up aggression.

The demon had tried to teleport itself between the shadows of the tree to attack Sanemi from behind, but he deftly avoided the demon’s claws, swinging his sworn clean through the demon’s arm. Sanemi grinned, enjoying the chance to toy with his prey.

“CAW!” the familiar screech of a crow sounded overhead, briefly startling both slayer and demon. “LABOR!” The crow cried; Sanemi only able to just make out the dark shape of the bird against the night sky. “GET TO KOCHO’S!”

Sanemi’s stomach flipped. Now? Y/N chose to go into labor now?

“Sorry, demon!” Sanemi’s gravelly voice boomed, a wide grin forming on his face as he swung his sword again, this time amputating the demon’s other arm as it howled in pain. “Gotta run! My girl’s havin’ my baby!”

Sanemi rammed his blade through the demon’s neck and wrenched it harshly to the side, the demon’s head falling with a pathetic thump! on the forest floor. Sheathing his weapon, Sanemi launched himself through the trees, using his wind breathing to gain momentum as he hurtled his way toward the Butterfly Mansion.

Sanemi arrived at Kocho’s estate in record time, having only taken a few hours to speed as fast as the wind could carry him, to get to Y/N’s side. When Sanemi arrived, the grounds of Kocho’s estate were abuzz as Kakushi and Butterfly Mansion girls darted around, gathering supplies. As he made his way inside the medical wing of the Mansion, he wondered whether some incident with a demon had occurred, given the urgency with which people moved.

“Lady Kocho said she needs more towels and fresh water, quickly!” A tiny, pigtailed girl dressed in the Mansion’s sterile linens cried to another, her small arms full of bloodied towels.

Shit, Sanemi thought, his eyebrows rising. Nasty battle.

“Y/L/N-san must be bleeding a whole lot!” The other girl tearfully responded, her voice trembling.

The pig-tailed girl nodded. “If the baby doesn’t come soon…” The girl’s mouth kept moving, but Sanemi could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears.

There had not been a battle – it was Y/N. Sanemi whirled around, looking at the towels the girl carted away.

They were saturated in blood. Y/N’s blood.

Sanemi’s legs began moving of their own accord, his arm reaching out to snag the young girl by the back of her collar as she choked out a tiny, terrified scream.

“Where.” Was all he said, his arms shaking, eyes wild.

The girl gulped, lifting a trembling hand to point to her right, towards the back wing of the hospital. “The last room around the corner!” She squeaked.

Sanemi set her down and stormed towards the Eastern Wing of the Manor, not caring whom he barreled over in his haste.

You’d better be okay, Y/N. Sanemi thought, his fists balled as he willed himself to move faster. You and that baby had better be healthy.

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

Sanemi Shinazugawa never believed himself to be a good person.

He could not possibly be good, because his life was marked by his failure when it had mattered most. He had been unable to protect his mother from becoming a demon, or from her killing almost all of his siblings. He had been unable to save Masachika. He had failed to prevent Genya from joining the Demon Slayer Corps, a veritable death sentence for most.

So it had been easy for him to withdraw, to shut himself off from everything – and everyone -- else. Sanemi could not fail anyone if he cared for nothing. People would still die, but it would not be because of his failures. He had been content to live his life, forever disconnected from the world around him.

But then, everything changed because he met her, and she became everything.

Y/N had been the most precious surprise of his life. He had not paid her much mind as she had worked her way up through the Demon Slayer Corps, only really becoming familiar with her once she became Kinoe. He had been impressed by her skill, having not seen Lunar Breathing in action before the pair had been sent on a mission together, and she had used her eighth form – Lunar Eclipse – to shield him from the backlash of a demon’s attack. The move had cost her a rather deep gash to her side, and at one point, Sanemi had feared her insides would end up on the ground before the Kakushi arrived and whisked her away to Kocho’s Manor. Rather than cry or moan, Y/N had instead cracked jokes, trying to goad him into comparing battle wounds. Sanemi, in between cursing Y/N for her recklessness (because why should she risk her skin to save his?), had been beside himself, knowing that he lacked the general first-aid skills to at least staunch Y/N’s bleeding. It was only later, as Sanemi watched Y/N pant and try to talk herself through the pain as the Kakushi stitched her back together, that he realized that she had done it for his benefit – to keep him calm.

That she showed care for him before herself – that she had wanted to make sure that he did not spiral – had cracked something in the armor he had built around his heart.

Because until Y/N, Sanemi had not been able to remember the last time anyone put him first.

After she recovered, Sanemi had insisted on training Y/N on decent defense techniques, so that she would never again have to struggle to keep her internal organs inside her body where they belonged. He had reasoned at the time that she was the first slayer in years he had seen show true potential – true gumption.

Seeing her beautiful smile more frequently hadn’t been a bad thing, either.

Then Y/N had become a Hashira – his equal – and still sought him out for training. Sanemi had not dared let himself hope that her continued presence on his estate’s training grounds had anything other to do than with her desire to get stronger.

Yet there she had been that day, the day he could no longer hold himself back, grinning like she had won their spar. She had looked so smug, so infuriatingly beautiful, that he had not been able to stop himself from tasting her, just once. And then she kissed him back, and the first swipe of her tongue against his had turned him into a man starved, a man who could not resist taking more from her that she had been only too willing to give.

How foolish he had been to believe his desire for her could ever be sated.

Before long, he found himself anxiously checking the minutes as they ticked down to their next rendezvous, found himself worrying about her well-being. When she cried on the anniversary of her family’s death, Sanemi had felt as though his heart would crack in two, and he had not stopped himself from reaching for her to comfort her, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. It was then when he realized he would do anything to see her smile again, that Sanemi had known he was a goner.

By some miracle, she had chosen him, too. She had chosen to stay by him even when he tried to push her away when he thought he was so undeserving of any kindness from her. He had been convinced she could hear the cries of his loved ones as they echoed in his head after he would jolt awake, would hear them scream of his failures, but instead, she had stayed with him, offering him nothing but solace and warmth, and he had not been able to resist her.

And she loved him. She loved him, and though it went against everything in him, and contradicted every measure of self-preservation he had built up over the years, he loved her, too. He loved her so much, it hurt him for her to be away, when he could not feel the reassuring warmth of her body next to his, or when he could not smell the floral honey of her perfume. Sanemi knew that he could scarcely breathe when she was not near, knew that his soul had become inextricably bound to hers.

And though Sanemi had survived a great deal of loss in his life, he knew with certainty that he would not survive losing Y/N.

—————————————————————————

Sanemi’s teeth gnashed together as he sped up, finally rounding the final corner before the last room. His arm was outstretched, ready to punch the door to the birthing room open, but before he could do so, he smashed into something solid. He stepped back, sputtering, the instinct to destroy every obstacle, every threat that stood between himself and Y/N making his blood roar.

“Woah there, Shinazugawa.” It was Uzui, standing in front of the doorway, arms folded. “Sorry, you’re not allowed in there.”

Sanemi blinked, not understanding Uzui’s presence here, where his Y/N was giving birth to his child. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He demanded, moving to shove the Sound Pillar aside.

Uzui stood firm. “Kocho said you’re not to be let in there, and I’m following her orders.” His tone patronizing.

Sanemi’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his fellow Hashira, his fists clenched. “You do know I’m the fuckin’ father, don’t you?” He snarled, his anger rising and mixing with the panic he felt the longer he was kept away from Y/N.

“We do now,” Uzui said coldly.

A hand wrapped itself around Sanemi’s forearm, clenching it tight. “And we were instructed to keep you out until we knew it was safe for you to be in there.” Tomioka’s monotonous voice came from beside him, causing Sanemi to tense as the Water Hashira wrenched him back from Uzui.

“Safe? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sanemi shook Tomioka’s grip from his arm with a sneer, as he looked between the two Hashira in disbelief. “What the fuck does she need protecting from? That’s my fuckin’ baby she’s having!”

Tomioka’s face remained infuriatingly impassive. “Look, Shinazugawa, Kocho just wants to make sure Y/N is comfortable having you in there, and until she says so, you need to stay out.” The Water Hashira’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, the threat clear. “We do not want this to turn violent.”

Sanemi was shaking with rage, in part because he could infer the accusation that neither of them had the stones to say to his face, but mostly because every second out there was another second he wasn’t with Y/N, who was bleeding, who needed him.

Before Sanemi could snap back, an agonized wail ripped through the walls.

“NE-MI.” Y/N cried out, her voice cracking from the strain.

The combination of the pain and desperation in Y/N’s voice, paired with the severity of the situation caused something in Sanemi’s chest to audibly snap, a strange calm flooding through him. Both Uzui and Tomioka exchanged a look at Y/N’s use of Shinazugawa’s nickname and turned to face the trembling Wind Pillar.

Sanemi’s hand fell to his own blade, the veins in his arms threatening to burst through his skin. “I’m going to give you one second to get the fuck out of my way, or I’ll turn this hall into fuckin’ rubble.” His voice was low but deadly, a murderous glint shining in his eyes.

Uzui opened his mouth to respond, but the hesitation gave Sanemi the opening he needed to slip past both Hashira and push through the entryway into the birthing room.

“Dammit!” Uzui snarled, stumbling to grab onto the back of Shinuzagawa’s collar to yank him back into the hall, but it was too late.

Sanemi did not announce himself when he breezed into the birthing room Shinobu and the girls had crafted. The smell of blood had been overwhelming, and it had sent every hair on Sanemi’s body standing as he took in the sight of the woman he loved, sweating and pale on the floor, covered in the sticky, dark substance, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she struggled to take even shallow breaths.

Shinobu stepped back from her place between Y/N’s legs, ready to throw the Wind Pillar out herself, or at the very least order him to stand back and let her do her job. She drew short, however, when she saw Y/N, who stretched out a trembling hand desperately towards the man, relief flooding her tired, pained eyes.

“‘Nemi,” she whimpered, tears of exhaustion spilling over her cheeks.

Nemi paid neither Shinobu nor the other girls on hand any mind, instead focusing solely on Y/N and her swollen belly. Shinobu watched in dumb silence as Shinuzagawa knelt behind Y/N’s head, positioning one leg at each of her shoulders. Wordlessly, he slid his arms under her, sliding down to grip gently around her lower rib cage so that he could lift her upper torso enough to work himself beneath her. He settled her upper body in between his legs, her back pressed against his front, and wrapped his arms around her, locking her against his chest.

Shinobu felt so foolish for having doubted the Wind Pillar, especially as she witnessed Y/N— who was no doubt in incomprehensible pain — visibly relax in his embrace.

Shinazugawa peppered Y/N’s forehead and the side of her neck in comforting kisses. “‘M sorry it took so long, sweetheart, but I’m here.” He cooed in a voice so gentle, Shinobu had wondered whether she was truly looking at the Wind Pillar at all, and not some strange doppelganger.

Y/N, panting and sweating from the toll of her labor, just nodded. “I waited, ‘Nemi. I waited for you. I love you.” Her head lolled back against Shinuzagawa’s scarred chest, seeming as though she was on the verge of falling unconscious.

Shinuzagawa squeezed her lightly. “I know. And you’re doing so fuckin’ well, baby. So fuckin’ well. You’ve just got to try for a little bit longer, sweetheart. You’re almost there.” He murmured into her ear, pressing more kisses onto her face and the top of her head. Shinazugawa finally looked up at Kocho, his eyes narrowed, and his face expectant.

Shinobu shook off the surprise she felt, kneeling back down at Y/N’s feet. “The baby has gotten turned around in the birthing canal,” she began to explain, checking once more between Y/N’s legs. “I can try to rotate the child, but at this point, I’m worried both Y/N and the child are in too much distress. She could bleed out before I have the chance." Shinobu’s face tightened. “Or else I’ll have cut her open to get the child out.”

Y/N moaned, her head rolling to slump at her other shoulder, and Sanemi’s grip around her tightened. “What’s the other option?” He demanded.

Shinobu thought for a moment. “If Y/N can use total concentration breathing to push right as I rotate the baby, then she might be able to deliver naturally.” Shinobu met Sanemi’s eyes. “That would also keep her from bleeding out.” Shinobu’s gaze dropped to her friend’s face. “But she hasn’t used Total Concentration in months – I told her not to, since there was a risk her body wouldn’t know if something went wrong during the pregnancy.”

Sanemi nodded once, focusing his gaze back down on his semi-conscious lover. He brushed his lips against her temple, and her ear, slightly jostling her into opening her eyes.

“Did you hear that, baby? You just need to use Total Concentration when Kocho says, and then our kid will be here.” Sanemi smiled gently at Y/N, kissing her head once more. “But you’ve gotta help Kocho out, sweet girl. Can you do that for me?”

The blood loss had made Y/N’s eyes bleary, and unfocused as she tried to force her eyelids back open. Slowly, Y/N lifted her gaze to Shinobu, her head twitching slightly downwards in a nod.

Kocho ordered Aoi to hand her a long, sinister-looking tool that she referred to as forceps. Sanemi’s stomach dropped, realizing how Kocho would be using the tool to turn the child stuck in Y/N’s womb. Y/N must have seen it too, for she began to tremble beneath Sanemi, whimpering slightly and shaking her head.

“Shh, shh Y/N, baby.” Sanemi soothed, pressing his lips to her sweaty temple. “Eyes on me, okay? We’ll use Total Concentration together.” He promised, moving so that Y/N could see him better. Her exhausted eyes drifted up to meet his own, and she nodded, her grip around Sanemi’s forearm tightening.

“We’re ready.” Kocho said, face determined as she waited for Y/N to begin using the breathing form.

Weakly, Y/N sat a little taller against Sanemi’s chest, shifting so that she could grip his forearms with both hands.

“If I hurt you… ‘M sorry.” She breathed, looking up at her lover so tenderly, so apologetic that Sanemi had to restrain himself from crumbling.

Of course she was more worried about him and his comfort when she was the one bleeding out on Kocho’s floor.

Sanemi shook his head. “Just breathe, baby. One…two…” He counted down.

Y/N took a deep breath, her lungs screaming as they expanded beyond their normal capacity for the first time in months. In tandem with her inhale, Kocho pushed the cold, silver instrument into Y/N, the latter wincing at the sensation of the foreign object.

“I’ve got it!” Kocho said, sweat beading on her forehead. “Push now, Y/N!”

Beneath his arms, Sanemi felt every muscle of Y/N’s body contract as she pushed with all her might, her body curling in with the force of her exhale. The grip Y/N had on Sanemi’s forearms threatened to crush his bones, but Sanemi grit his teeth, holding Y/N steady.

“Almost there, one more time!” Kocho panted.

Y/N repeated her breathing, but on the exhale, a scream tore from her throat as she forced herself to push harder than she ever had, her nails breaking the skin of Sanemi’s arms.

Y/N collapsed against Sanemi’s chest, too exhausted to move once more. All was quiet for a moment; the air was still.

Until a new cry filled the room, small, yet loud, and so, so strong.

A wide smile broke out across the Insect Pillar’s face. “You did it. You did it, Y/N.”

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

There were two things that Sanemi Shinazugawa knew with certainty: first, he had never known what happiness was.

Not true happiness, anyways. He thought he had known it, when he was a boy and his old man had finally kicked it, leaving him and his siblings and mother free from his abuse.

He had thought he had reached peak happiness again the first time Y/N fell asleep on his chest after a particularly rigorous romp, as he folded his arms behind his head, fascinated to watch her sleep, content and safe against his scarred torso.

Hell, he even thought he had known true joy when the little man in the nearby village began making ohagi just the way he liked it and sold it to him at a fraction of the cost he charged civilians. civilians.

Those had no doubt been happy times, but nothing, nothing compared to this.

As he tentatively reached out a finger, Sanemi realized that happiness, true happiness, was his daughter’s sleeping face, her little cherub cheeks impossibly soft against the callused roughness of his touch. Happiness was Y/N’s teary smile as she nuzzled against the soft mop of downy hair on their daughter’s head, as she whispered how perfect she was.

Second, Sanemi knew he was not good. While Sanemi had always known Y/N was a good person — the best person he had ever known, really — he had never considered that he could be labeled as anything close to “good.” He was too scarred, too hardened to be capable of doing anything remotely good in the world.

Yet as he stared down at his daughter, sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms, Sanemi couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there had been some good in him after all.

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

By the time the Sound and Flame Hashira had been permitted back inside the birthing room (Rengoku having returned some hours earlier after realizing the futility of trying to catch up with Sanemi), both could only stand over the Lunar and Wind Pillars and gawk as they beheld the small bundle fitted snugly in Y/N’s arms.

They could only gawk at Shinazugawa, who was still on the floor with his arms wrapped around Y/N, resting between his legs, as he ran a hand over the sleeping infant’s head with such care that they felt as though they were hallucinating the scene all together. Because Sanemi Shinazugawa had never treated anything so gently in his time with the Demon Slayer Corps as he treated the woman and baby daughter in his arms.

“Let me get this straight,” Y/N said loftily from below them, her eyes not leaving her daughter’s face. “You thought Sanemi was, what? A danger? A threat?”

Uzui laughed, nervously. “Not at all! We just wanted to be sure that he… you know… was supposed to be here.”

Y/N finally looked up at the reddening Sound Hashira, a mix of annoyance and amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to interpret the insinuation that I could not hold my own against a man.” She smiled sweetly, but the threat was clear.

Kocho spoke up from the other side of the room. “I accept full responsibility for that decision, Y/N.” She said, only slightly sheepish in her admission. Kocho had remained in the room to monitor Y/N post-birth, to ensure that the Lunar Hashira maintained her Total Concentration Breathing so that her body could continue to heal itself after the trauma of her delivery. “I was…concerned based on some observations I had made earlier in the pregnancy, and I only meant to ensure your safety.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “Concerns?” she questioned.

Shinobu shifted her weight to her other leg, the only sign of her discomfort. “Both I and Aoi had observed some…marks on your body during your checkups, early on.” Light pink dusted the Insect Pillar’s cheeks. “I was concerned you had been harmed.”

Y/N paused for a moment, trying to imagine what it was Shinobu could have possibly seen during her first few appointments that would have indicated she had been in any kind of trouble.

The only marks Y/N ever had on her skin that did not come from her battles with demons had been those left behind after she and Sanemi-.

Oh.

Y/N flushed deeply, ducking her head back down to look at her daughter, a curtain of hair concealing her face and her embarrassment. Behind her, Sanemi snorted as he too realized what Shinobu had implied.

Shinobu cleared her throat. “But I understand now that those were just marks…incidental to your everyday life.”

Y/N briefly wondered why the blood loss hadn’t killed her, why it hadn’t at least knocked her out, so she did not have to witness the details of hers and Sanemi’s intimate life be on display in front of not one, but three of their comrades.

Meanwhile, Sanemi remained behind her, content and at peace to be with his girl and their child, if not a little smug at the revelation.

Y/N’s embarrassment was saved by a sudden piercing cry.

“I think she might be hungry, Y/N.” Shinobu said, crossing the room to peer down at the small bundle wrapped in Y/N’s arms.

“Of course she is, she’s a growing girl!” Y/N glowed, returning her gaze to her daughter, brushing her fingertip ever so lightly over her tiny nose.

Sanemi looked up, for the first time, at the Flame and Sound Hashira who were still gaping down at him and Y/N, his eyes half-lidded in bliss, a wide grin on his face.

“Fuck off.” was all he said, turning his attention back to his girls.

The other Hashira took their cue, and filed out of the birthing room, giving the new family some well-deserved privacy.

When he was sure they were alone, Sanemi brushed Y/N’s hair over one of her shoulders, helping her loosen her kimono to bare her full breasts.

Once their daughter had latched, Y//N rested her head back against her lover’s chest, content to just bask in the utter bliss she felt at having her child in her arms and her heart pressed against her.

Sanemi slid a hand across Y/N’s throat to to her jaw, tilting her head towards him so that he could press a long kiss to her forehead, thumb stroking her face. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, reveling in the comfort and warmth of the moment.

Sanemi pulled his lips away from Y/N’s head. “Hey,” he murmured, keeping his hands beneath her jaw to tilt her face up so she could meet his eyes, unfathomable tenderness and something else she couldn’t name reflected in the lavender pools she loved.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ scare me like that again.” He whispered, the grip on her jaw tightening ever so slightly.

Y/N looked at him, incredulously. “You’ve helped me hold my organs inside my body after a fight, but that’s what scared you?” She asked, teasingly.

Sanemi grimaced. “That’s different. This time, I couldn’t do anything to help — either of you.”

Y/N reached a hand up over her to gently cup Sanemi’s face. The Wind Hashira closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, his hands holding her tighter to him.

“I love you.” He murmured as he nuzzled her palm. “So fucking much.”

Y/N had known, of course, for a long time that he loved her. Sanemi was always a man of action rather than words, and he had shown her, on plenty of occasions, how he felt about her.

But hearing him say it still brought tears to her eyes. Y/N moved her hand from Sanemi’s face to grab around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her so that she could kiss him, soft and sweet.

When their lips finally broke apart, Sanemi huffed, slightly annoyed.

“So are you going to marry me now, or not?”

Y/N smiled against his skin. “Yes, you impatient man. I will marry you.”

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

“I still don’t get it.” Uzui loudly complained. “How does that happen?”

The other Hashira watched from afar as Shinazugawa and Y/L/N walked up the steps into the Master’s mansion, the Wind Pillar’s arm securely wrapped around the Lunar Hashira’s waist as she carried a small bundle bearing the small, wiggly, and loud infant that she had given birth to a few weeks prior.

“I thought the diagram Y/L/N drew for you was pretty instructive, Uzui.” Iguro said, teasing malice lighting his eyes.

“I would have thought that three wives would have made you more knowledgeable, Uzui!” Rengoku said, half seriously. “But to think, you did not know how babies were made!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Uzui sputtered, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

“I can’t believe none of you noticed that he practically tripped over himself to demand that he take the night shifts watching over her.” Kanroji giggled. “I thought he was going to tear Tomioka’s head off for even trying to volunteer!”

“I thought he was just some weird night-owl!” Uzui indignantly. “Or that he liked watching people sleep!”

Rengoku chortled. “I do not think there was a whole lot of sleeping going on between them, Uzui!”

Uzui groaned, and the other Hashira laughed. Only Kocho remained quiet, her eyes fixed on the backs of her comrades as they awaited entry into the Master’s mansion.

A few weeks ago, Kocho would never have used the word “gentle” to describe Sanemi Shinazugawa. She would have preferred to use “abrasive,” or even at times, “hostile.”

But all that changed the moment she had witnessed the Wind Pillar tend to his beloved Lunar Hashira and their small daughter, and Kocho had realized that Shinazugawa, deep down, was not as brash as his exterior.

None of the Hashira were whole; all of them were a little broken by their trauma. But Shinazugawa was also gentle and kind, and perhaps that was what had drawn him to Y/N in the first place. Perhaps that was all it took; someone to bring out that softness in him, to chip away at the tough facade.

But Kocho kept these musings to herself, and smiled, as the little family disappeared inside the Master’s mansion.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Mostly fluff, I know, but I hope it was worth it. Soft Sanemi is everything to me.

Thank you for reading!

#sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi drabble #kny x reader #kny sanemi

3K notes · View notes

perfectsunlight · 6 months ago

Text

VLOG MOMENTS FROM THE KIM VACATION

minjeong x reader (ft. jennie kim)

synopsis: the kim sisters go on their annual summer trip to hawaii, but this time around, y/n decides to bring her girlfriend, minjeong.

a/n: this is just an idea i had while writing something for my other series: the variable

THE FLIGHT

the video starts with y/n leaning against jennie’s shoulder in the backseat of a car. the blackpink member zooms in on her younger sister’s face, causing y/n to smile and hit the camera playfully.

jennie quickly turns the camera to herself and starts speaking. “we’re currently on our way to the airport, we’re going to be in hawaii for a week. are you excited?” she turns to her younger sister, who nods rapidly.

“y/n is taking her ‘friend’ with us this time, so she’s meeting us there at the airport.” y/n’s lips curve into a small smile as she shakes her head at her sister’s remark and looks out the window.

a quick cut shows y/n running up to another person in a hoodie. jennie chuckles lightly and zooms in on the two embracing. there’s a second cut and y/n is recording with her head against someone’s shoulder. “guess who's coming with us,” she says in a sing-song tone and shows the camera, revealing minjeong’s face. the aespa member smiles and waves, earning a chuckle from y/n behind the camera. “cute.” the younger kim whispers at the sight of her girlfriend. minjeong smiles sheepishly before jennie’s voice is heard in the background.

“i’m sitting in between you two on the flight.”

SHOPPING IN HONOLULU

jennie points the camera at minjeong and laughs as she watches her carry several bags in her arms. “are you sure you can carry all of that?”

the blonde shakes her head quickly, looking over in the direction of where y/n appears to be somewhere off screen. the girls seem to be at a mall. “my arms are about to fall off. i think i need to get back to the gym.” minjeong jokes, earning a laugh from jennie. y/n comes into frame with two more bags in her hand shortly after.

jennie puts her little sister into the frame of the camera. “what did you buy?” she asked while minjeong can be seen adjusting the bags she was holding and stretching her arms.

y/n smiles and waves the bags playfully in front of the lens. “new bathing suits and a new charger because i forgot mine on the plane.”

“i’ll hold them,” minjeong quickly says as she gently takes the bags out of the younger kim’s hands. the action causes the older kim to start laughing. jennie focuses the camera back onto herself and shakes her head as the trio began walking out of the store. before the clip ends, y/n and minjeong’s voices can be heard off frame.

“baby, you’re already holding everything, it’ll be too heavy.” “it’s nothing, now let me hold it.”

THE BEACH

y/n is seen filming this time, showing the scenery around her. she zooms in on jennie, who seems to be taking a small nap in the shade with her sunglasses on. “unnie deserves a good rest,” the younger kim whispers to the camera before it cuts to the next part, where she’s walking with minjeong as the sun sets behind them.

minjeong waves to the camera quickly before pointing at the beautiful sunset behind them. “look how beautiful,” she gently takes the camera from y/n to show the sky better.

“more beautiful than me?” y/n says quickly as she jumps in front of the sm idol’s shot. both flustered and amused by the girl’s actions, all minjeong can do is chuckle. “midnight's album is out july 7th.”

“we’re on vacation and you’re promoting your group’s album?” minjeong teases as she gently shoves the other idol. “of course i am,” y/n replies with a smile. “i care about my stargazers.”

“do they know i’m the number one stargazer?” minjeong says quickly as she wraps an arm around y/n’s shoulder. the younger kim points the camera at the other girl again while laughing at her remark.

“you’re not, jennie is.”

THE HOTEL

jennie is seen in pajamas and laying in bed with the hotel tv on. “i’m so tired today, we decided to go snorkeling so we couldn’t film it.” the blackpink member snickered as she recalled an event from earlier that day.

“if you guys didn’t know, y/n doesn’t like snorkeling because the last time we went, a fish went up to her mouth.”

almost immediately, y/n’s voice is heard from off camera.

“jennie unnie,” she groans playfully before climbing into bed with her sister and laying on top of her. she was in a pj set exactly like jennie’s. “don’t expose me.”

jennie chuckles as y/n joins her in bed, wrapping her arms around her sister in a playful hug. “sorry, but it's too funny not to share,” jennie teases, affectionately tousling y/n's hair.

y/n lets out a mock sigh, feigning annoyance. “i should tell everyone about your swimsuit incident,” she says, shooting jennie a mock glare before breaking into a grin.

jennie gasps dramatically, feigning shock. “you wouldn't dare!” she exclaims, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. the younger girl giggles, knowing she has the upper hand in this playful exchange.

“oh, i think blinks would love to hear about the great swimsuit malfunction of 2024,” she teases, poking jennie's side. “so what happened was–”

before y/n could finish her sentence, her sister put her hand over her mouth. “we’ll see you in the morning,” she said loudly to the camera, struggling to keep her hand over the younger girl’s mouth.

“goodnight!”

YACHT

“today we’re spending the afternoon on a boat,” y/n says as she leans against jennie’s shoulder. “minjeongie is taking pictures over there.” she points the camera towards the deck where the aespa member is taking pictures of herself.

“i’m wearing a blue swimsuit today to match minjeong’s,” y/n takes the camera and shows a quick glimpse of her blue bikini. “yesterday we didn’t film it, but i was matching with jennie unnie at the other beach.”

a quick montage of the ocean, sky, and the trio taking pictures is shown before jennie is the only one in frame. she zooms in on the two younger idols who appear to be taking polaroids with each other.

“y/n always brings her polaroid everywhere,” jennie explains while the focus is still on the other two girls. “she’s always showing her pictures to lisa.”

suddenly, minjeong is seen leaning in very close to y/n’s face. “hey!” jennie shouts at the aespa member, causing her to immediately sit straight up and back away from y/n with her hands in the air. y/n rolls her eyes playfully and laughs at her sister’s antics. “she was moving something out of my face, unnie.”

“i’m sure she was.”

jennie said as she made her way over to the pair and sat in between them before waving goodbye to the camera with a blushing minjeong and a smiling y/n.

#blackpink #aespa #jennie kim #kim minjeong #blackpink oneshot #aespa oneshot #winter x reader #minjeong x reader #wlw #gxg #kpop fluff #aespa x reader #oneshot #minjeong oneshot #perfectsunlight

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ghoststyles · 11 months ago

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You Should Probably Leave

This one shot is inspired by You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton! Hope you enjoy.

3.4K. Smut. Fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, degradation, the works. hehehe.

The feeling of the pair of lips gently ghosting down your collar bone sends you back in time. A simpler time. Two college students madly in love, unsure where their lives would take them.

You smile gently, drinking in the scene around you; a warm fire lit, a nearly empty bottle of red wine, and a pair of strong hands dancing around your post-baby curves. Throwing your head back, you gasp when he nips and sucks at the soft part of your neck. Pawing at his lap, his hard prick creates a noticeable tent in his pants.

You had a long day. The baby is teething, your nipples are dry and cracked, and you haven’t had an adult conversation in what feels like weeks. It’s been Miss Rachel and Cocomelon until your ears bleed. You’re not sure if it was the wine, but it’s like you’ve been brought back to life. It helps that your husband, an esteemed surgeon, is on his 3rd 24-hour call shift in a two-week span, giving you plenty of time to occupy yourself.

It started off innocent, your friendship with Harry. Your heart stopped when you realized who moved into the house across the street just 6 months ago. The other moms fawned over the new single bachelor in the neighborhood, not realizing it was Harry. Your Harry. Your college boyfriend who you thought you’d run off into the sunset with and travel the world.

In an effort to establish that you’re a married woman, you brought a fresh plate of cookies to his door, your husband in tow. Harry’s slightly perplexed and shocked look on his face when he opened the front door that day was quickly wiped away when your husband introduced yourselves to him.

It wasn’t until a few days later when you got Harry alone. Would he act like he has no idea who you are? Or would it be like a single day hasn’t passed since you left him at your college graduation, not knowing about the ring in his pocket as your parents and grandparents celebrated around you?

You were going on different paths in life, after all. Harry was a risk taker; you, on the other hand, are someone who craves routine and discipline. That’s what you repeat to yourself, trying to convince your brain that he’s not the love of your life. Even 6 years later.

You approach Harry as he is getting his mail one day. Looking around, making sure the nosy moms weren’t around, or your husband isn’t miraculously home from work.

“Hi, Sunny,” Harry says, swallowing thickly.

His words send a punch to your gut. The nickname he called you for over 4 years hits the same, even after all this time. Your husband’s terms of endearment don’t hold a candle to this.

Hesitantly, you cross the street, your arms crossing over your chest to try and slow your beating heart.

“Hi, neighbor. How’d that happen?”

“Are you the only one allowed to come back and live in their college town?”

Ice cold. You weren’t prepared for that kind of response.

“Not at all. Just unexpected, I guess.”

“I think it’s my turn to do something unexpected.”

You nod, pursing your lips in anxiety. You turn to go back in your house, feeling defeated.

“I don’t have social media. I didn’t know you lived here,” he replies gruffly. “If you want to come over for coffee tomorrow morning, you can. I work from home.”

“Okay,” you reply softly, unsure if this is a real invite. Scurrying into the house, you wipe away a small tear that formed in the corner of your eye. Fucking postpartum emotions.

Your racing thoughts are brought to an end when Harry snakes his hand over your stomach. He moans at the excess skin and fat, knowing you brought a life into this world. Weekly coffee dates between neighbors turned into wine nights when the baby goes down. All unbeknownst to your husband and neighbors.

He finally slides his hands in your panties, gently swirling your clit, sending your head back on his shoulder. The stress melts off your body when he inserts his middle finger.

“Mhm, squeeze me, Sunny. Take what you need,” Harry pants in your ear quietly. The baby monitor rests on the side table next to you.

High-pitched whines escape your mouth as he massages your g-spot gently. The angle isn’t allowing him to speed up his thrusts. You come, loudly, a few minutes later as Harry sponges more kisses on your neck and temple.

Shifting to your knees, you simultaneously pull his pants down, his boxers following suit. His prick bobs up, smacking him in the stomach. You nearly keel over, excited to have your mouth on him, as if you haven’t been doing this several nights a week when your husband is at work.

The ruddy tip is dribbling pre come, the perfect lubricant. Since he knows you’re dirty, you spit on him anyway. Harry lets out a mixture of a sigh and whine, desperate to feel your warm mouth on him. You take the plunge, trying to shove as much of him down as you can. It’s hard, but you manage to slightly swipe your nose on the hair at his base.

He’s a man now. He was back then, too. But he’s a man now. The slight belly; a contrast from his rock hard abs in college. And his face is aged, but in a good way. His stamina remains unchanged. A few more sucks and pumps of his dick and balls sends him spiraling. Ropes of his come hit the back of your throat. You absolutely keen as he grunts and thrusts one last time.

With a pop, you slide your mouth off, looking at him with hazy eyes. You roll to the side, laying your chin on his meaty thigh, just above his tiger tattoo.

Harry sighs, knowing what comes next.

I know it ain’t all that late but you should probably leave. And I recognize the look in your eyes, yeah, you should probably leave.

You cover up your bare chest with your sweater, pulling your discarded sleep shorts back on.

“He’ll be home soon, and I want to feed the baby one more time before bed. I hope you understand.”

Harry nods, his face unwilling to let on how much your words hurt. He stands, pulling up his pants and boxers, slipping his sweatshirt overhead.

Harry understood the first time. And the second. And even the third. But, here you both are, months later, entertaining this completely heinous affair. But, he just can’t fucking let you go.

‘Cause I know you, and you know me. And we both know where this is gonna lead

You excused the lingering; the extra kisses. You’ve even let Harry stay in your bed until the minute your husband pulled into the driveway. It’s gone on too long, and you need to set boundaries. But you can’t fucking let him go.

You want me to say that I want you to stay, so you should probably leave

You know it’s wrong. You’re not naive. It’s not even about hurting your husband. The unmitigated amount of guilt that comes from leading Harry on is more than enough to send you straight to hell.

It was dumb luck, Harry moving in across the street. He had to hear about your new life through mutual college friends for years as hestruggled in relationship after relationship. You went off and married a future doctor. A sure thing. At graduation, Harry scored a job in tech. Sure, the field was new at the time, but it wasn’t like he was taking a major risk. You got cold feet and fled.

Harry leans down to place one more chaste kiss on your lips before he wordlessly slips out the door toward his own house. You stare out the window after him until a shrill cry rings over the baby monitor, catapulting you into your reality.

And it’s hard to resist, just one kiss, then you should probably leave

When Harry knocks on your door around 11PM just two nights after the last encounter with an overnight bag in hand, you’re not sure what to say. The baby went down easier tonight, allowing you to feel more relaxed.

“I talked to him yesterday at the gym. He said he’d be on call at the hospital until tomorrow morning.”

You nod, confirming what he’s saying. Your husband kissed you goodbye after a failed attempt at intimacy this morning. You made up some excuse of feeling off, so he jerked himself in the shower while you laid in fetal position, the guilt eating you alive.

Harry storms past you, immediately heading to your bedroom. The bedroom you share with your husband. The bedroom just down the hall from your sleeping baby. You sigh, closing the front door gently.

Harry places his bag on the chair in the corner, taking note of the clothing strewn around the room. He’d hate to leave behind an article of his clothing that would expose their secret. Harry pulls his shirt off by the collar, baring his chest to you.

It never fails to smack the wind out of you. His toned, tattooed abdomen is illuminated by the lamp in the corner. You place your palms on his pecs, leaning in for a hungry kiss. You can tell he doesn’t want to talk tonight.

“Strip,” He demands in between kisses.

You meet his gaze, giving your best puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t buy it. You peel off your sleep shirt and shorts, leaving yourself in a pair of white panties.

“Face down, ass up, Sunny.”

A shrill whine escapes your frowning mouth. You put up little protest and situate yourself on the bed. It’s tantalizing, the hold he has on you. The history. The lore. The taboo nature of your relationship. If that’s what you can call it.

You crawl onto the bed, ignoring the framed photo from your wedding day on the bedside table. Harry stands at the foot of the bed, admiring your plump ass, a small wet patch forming in the gusset of the panties.

Harry lightly palms your ass as you jam your head further into the comforter. He squeezes and pulls at the skin, debating where to start. He starts by rubbing his middle and ring fingers over the wet patch.

Increasing the pressure, he leans over you, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “I’m gonna eat you out, fuck you, fill you up, and we’re gonna keep these panties on. A little treat for when your husband comes home.”

Fuck.

“Harry, fuck,” you stutter.

He’s now face to face with your backside. You feel one lewd, long, lick up your folds - through your underwear. It’s so, so good. In between licks, you hear him speak again.

“You know what I can’t figure out?” He asks, almost laughing to himself.

You dare not to respond, instead focus on his assault to your pussy. His grip on your thighs is that of the jaws of life, destined to leave marks.

“I’ve been fucking tearing this pussy up for,” he trails off. “Months, now? And your dumb fuck husband still has no idea? Not a clue about our history? How you were mine first? Does he even pay a crumb of attention to you?”

You cry out after a big swipe, the tickling feeling of the damp fabric on your pussy lips driving you wild. You’re holding back big, fat crocodile tears. You’re in this situation because you want to have your cake and eat it, too.

“Tell me, Sunny. Does he fuck you with the lights off? Or a quickie in the shower? If he’s the love of your life, then why do you have to get attention from me? Hm?”

Fisting the comforter, the tears are now falling rapidly. You choke out a sob and clench your pussy around nothing.

Again, you don’t answer his questions. Instead, he picks up the pace of his licks, focusing directly on your clit. He knows the left side is more sensitive than the right, so his tongue stays swirling in that direction.

You come, quickly and loudly, smacking your hand against the bed. Harry chuckles to himself bitterly. Your head is still spinning, but you feel Harry peel back the gusset of the panties and slide the tip of his cock through the folds.

He still has his pants on, but the buttons are popped open and his cock is sticking out over the band of his underwear. The edge of the lacy fabric touching the sensitive head makes him grunt out a moan.

“Always so fucking needy. You need me, don’t you, Sunny? Tell me,” he mocks.

“I need you, Harry,” you whimper, your body ready to collapse to the bed.

“Mm-mm. Tell me who you need right now, Sunny.”

“You, Daddy. I need you,” your wobbly lip makes you sound pathetic.

He plunges in at your words, both of you gasping at the same time. You’re made for one another; You’re the lock and he’s the key. Even on the best nights with your husband, he gives you a mediocre performance at best. Your thrusts are never timed, and he refuses to talk dirty in your ear.

“That’s right, Sunny. Good girl,” he mocks you again, his thrusts sending shockwaves throughout your body. You can feel his thumb trace around the edge of your asshole, making you mewl.

Harry leans over you, enveloping his body over yours. His lips ghost your ear again. The tone of his voice is low and sultry.

“Y’know what I think, Sunny girl?” he asks, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. “I bet you wish that sweet little baby in the other room was mine. Bet you wish it was me you walked down the aisle to.”

You gasp, heart stopping at the mention of your baby. Up until this point, you’ve been able to compartmentalize this part of your life. You start to protest, but he slips his right hand around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Hm? Based on the way you’re squeezing me, I think I’m right,” the smug tone of voice is glaringly obvious. “Think of the life we could’ve had, Sunny. I think about it every day of my fucking life. Would’ve given you the world.”

Like a devil on my shoulder you keep whisperin’ in my ear. And it’s gettin’ kinda hard for me to do the right thing here. I wanna do the right thing, baby

“I know,” you finally choke out. Your conversations during your romps remain light, usually. But, tonight. Tonight feels different. His grip on your throat tightens as you feel him start to slow his thrusts. "Fuck, Harry. I know."

“Thought I’d hit the lottery when you and your husband knocked on my door that day. Thought I’d been given a second chance. Finally have you forever.”

He’s fully panting at this point, and you’re unsure how he’s even talking. You clench around him, making him moan again. He kisses your neck, sweat freely dripping all over both of you. Instead of burying deep in you, he pulls out slightly as he comes, coating the inside and outside of your pussy, and dripping into the panties.

It’s lewd, and disgusting. But, it’s everything.

Harry’s lifts his body from his place on top of you, the slight breeze his shifting caused making you shiver. Harry moves to a half standing position to grab his phone off the bedside table. He snaps a quick photo of the scene in front of him.

You look ethereal. Your perfect, plump ass is complimented by the underwear now doused in his scent and spunk. The contrast of the dry and wet parts of the panties has him wanting to jerk off again.

Reluctantly, he pulls out, and uses his thumb to snap the fabric back in place. He doubts your husband will even give you the time of day once he’s home. But, it’d be an epic way for your secret to be exposed.

It’s nearing 1AM, so Harry stands to go into your ensuite to fetch a towel. Now, you’ve fully collapsed into the bed. He gently wipes just enough cum from around your pussy and thighs. He leaves a majority of it for the treasure hunt.

You finally build up the strength and courage to pick up a discarded T-shirt on the floor. At the same time, he’s putting on a fresh pair of boxers from his bag. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eye as you start reeling over the degrading words that came out of his mouth. You have every right to be disgusted by him, but you can’t bring yourself to be. Because he’s not wrong.

You’d made a mistake. You knew about 6 months into your marriage. You loved your husband. Or maybe the idea of him. You met him when he was 2 years into his surgical residency. The perks and the bragging rights of dating a doctor got to your head. Every date, every argument and every moment of adversity had you wondering what it’d have been like with Harry.

Life with Harry was easy. You got the best of both worlds; a hot boyfriend and a fun social life. But, when your sister introduced you to a man with a full 8-year plan carved out, you chose the safe option. What a fuck-up that was.

Harry climbs into the bed next to you, still not saying a word. That’s the thing. With Harry, you don’t have to. Your energies and emotions just work. He gently pulls you down so you’re laying horizontally on your side, and he slots his legs between yours, nuzzling his face in your neck.

In this moment, everything feels right.

Harry didn’t sleep much. He tried. But, something deep inside him was gnawing at his soul. His eyes were closed the whole night, but he never quite crossed the threshold into sleep.

He still had all his five senses; the sliver of light from the lamppost outside; the slight white noise coming from the radiator; the smell of your shampoo mixed with the lewd activities of tonight; the feel of your hot skin touching his; and finally, the residual taste of your pussy on his tongue.

The sun is rising now, signaling the end of your time together.

The sliver of light on your frame has his heart bursting with adoration. It’s true, what he’d said before. He does think about what your future would’ve been like. Your long eyelashes cast shadows on your slightly cherub cheeks. You would’ve made beautiful children. Gone on memorable family trips. And at the end of the day, fucking love each other.

Sun on your skin, 6AM and I been watchin’ you sleep. And honey, I’m so afraid you’re gonna wake up and say that you should probably leave.

A year ago, Harry thought you’d leave your husband by now. But, as time goes on, his odds of getting you back are getting less and less. His heart is breaking all over again.

You feel him stir, so you turn over and smile at him. You run your hands up and down his bare chest, feeling every prickly hair. He smiles back at you, not saying a word.

You finally pipe up, a clear, sad tone, “Y’know how much I hate saying this.”

“I should probably leave.”

You nod sadly, placing a kiss on his chest. It’s honestly a miracle the baby hasn’t woken up yet. Harry kisses you, his thumb grabbing your chin. It lasts a few minutes until you pull away. Your husband is due home in less than 45 minutes.

I want you to stay, but you’ll probably say that you should probably leave.

You should probably leave.

Harry rises to sit at the side of the bed, grabbing his phone. 6:12 AM. You think he’s fiddling with his phone to prolong his stay. His bag is already packed by the door. You smile to yourself, happy to have your lover by your side. He places one last kiss on your forehead.

Before Harry stands, he sends off an email to his realtor, confirming the sale of his house. $15,000 over asking price. It was a private showing, with an agreement that Harry would be out of the house in two weeks.

He already purchased a home — Approximately 1,326 miles away from this one. Everything is set. His mind is made up.

Harry stands, grabbing his bag. He takes one last look at you as he stands in the doorframe, an unreadable look on his face.

“Bye, Sunny girl.”

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sometimesanalice · 2 months ago

Note

It’s a prompt party! 🪩🍾🪅

“ oh god you’re really gonna do the whole rocks against the window at midnight boombox thing aren’t you? ” from soft ships with any B-named Dagger of your choice

Morgan! I had every intention of delivering you a little Bob morsel, but this prompt was just too fitting for the Hey, Sailor babes! I hope you enjoy! 💖

In the two months since Bradley’s been home from his latest deployment, he’s gone from a one night stand to a boyfriend.

He’d been a goner from the moment he’d seen you in that sparkly dress with that shiny bridesmaid tiara on your head that night during Fleet Week. And while he wouldn’t change a thing about how the two of you gotten together- especially now with the way you’re draped across his chest, your body lush and soft against his- he did have some remorse about not getting to win you over the way a girl like you deserved to be.

"Baby?" Bradley runs his fingers along your the side of your thigh.

You tilt your head up to look at him. "Hmm?"

"Are you happy? With us and how things have been going?"

"I mean, I’m riding a pretty stellar endorphin high right now, Lieutenant,” you tease, propping yourself up on his chest wearing a mischievous smile. Such troublemaker. He lightly pinches the fleshy part of your hip, making you laugh and squirm closer. “Sorry, sorry, Lieutenant Commander.”

"That’s more like it," he says smugly.

"Not beating those rank kink allegations there, Bradshaw.” You dip down and drop a quick peck on his lips. “But yes, I’m very happy. Why? You are too, right?” you ask him tentatively, casually.

The last thing he wanted was you second guessing anything about the way he feels about you.

He lifts a hand to your face and gently pulls your lower lip free where you had it pinned between your teeth with his thumb. "Of course I am," he assures you, "It’s just, we fucked on that first night, and I feel like I never got the chance to properly…woo you.”

“Woo?” you repeat, giving him an impressed look. “If I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure you wooed me quite thoroughly with your-”

He groans and covers your mouth with his hand, he can feel the curve of your smile under his palm before he slides it around the back of your neck. “No, I mean it. You wined and dined me-”

“-you mean I tequila shot and blew you-”

Rooster huffs a laugh, shaking his head amused. “That too, which I’ll concede was clearly a very effective method. After all, who am I to say no to a gorgeous girl who wants to take me home with her?” He wraps his arm around your waist and rolls over taking you with him and pressing you into the mattress. “But I never got to pull out my best moves.”

“Oh?” you say teasingly, tilting your hips into his, sliding your foot along his calf.

“You know what I mean, I want to do this right. With flowers and chocolates and sunsets and tambourines.”

You’re the kind of girl who is worth the effort. And even though he already has you- and you have him more than wrapped around your finger- he still doesn’t want to skip over a single step with you.

He wants to charm you. To sweep you off your feet. To make you giddy and flustered.

“Wait, Rooster, you’re being serious?” Your eyes search his face for hint of a joke that’s not there. “Oh god, you’re really gonna do the whole rocks against the window at midnight boombox thing aren’t you?”

He grins, but doesn’t reply. Already starting to craft a game plan in his mind. And he knows the two of you are going to enjoy every moment of it.

Bradley leans in to kiss you. “Get ready to be wooed, baby.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Show me what you got, Lieutenant.”

it's a prompt party 🪩

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #it's a prompt party 🪩

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year ago

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don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: the honeymoon pt. 1

summary: the infinite undressing and undoing of mrs. berzatto -- or how you and carmy spend your mini-moon at the langham hotel.

warnings: so much smut so this chapter is 18+ only!! also the smut is from carmys pov and im shaking!! husband!carmy who comes with a warning label of his own, swearing, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 4.9k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist

a/n: surprise! i decided to split the honeymoon into two chapters because it was getting way too long and i refuse to cut any of it so there's that.

on another note: this series, this world, is so special to me because it is my first: first series on tumblr, first series for carmy, first time writing fanfic again as an adult that i actually followed through with. it was the universe that got me through unemployment. the fic that helped me fall in love with writing again, so i will always hold this world near and dear to my heart. but aside from occasional one shots here and there, it may be time to let them ride off into the sunset, into their happily ever after. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part three | masterlist | part five

Before he can even get the door properly closed, you’re all over him, your mouth covering his own with kisses that feel like promises, as your hands multi-task, fumbling with the door to get in closed the rest of the way.

“As much as I loved celebrating with our friends and family, I’ve been waiting for this moment all damn day,” you say, in between kisses, satisfied as soon as you hear the clicking sound of the door locking.

“Hmmm and what’s that?” Carmy asks you, coyly.

His lips curve into a cocky smile mid-kiss, and he hears you chuckle, knowing exactly what buttons to push to wind you up.

“Getting you alone, Mr. Berzatto,” you giggle underneath your breath, taking a few steps away from him.

Carmy watches you in awe, his eyes traveling from your kiss-swollen lips, to the way your hands begin to trail down your body, to the careful steps that you take backwards. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches your fingers delicately undo the first button on this goddamn blazer dress he thinks he’ll never be able to get out of his mind – not after tonight, that’s for sure. He watches them dance over the second button from the top down, peeling it open, as a bright pop of red begins to peek out from underneath your dress.

“Carm?” you ask him, your eyes flickering down to your hands as you undo the third button, then the fourth, before returning your heated gaze to him.

“Yes, baby,” is all he can reply, as if he’s under your spell already.

Carmy gulps, his pants feeling incredibly tight, the air noticeably thick as he watches your little strip tease.

It’s just a few more buttons before your dress falls open, revealing the crimson red set you’re wearing underneath.

Red Floral Lace. Mesh. See-through.

“Come get me,” you beckon, as you let the dress fall to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls on an exhale, before charging towards you.

It’s all hot, all-consuming kisses as he pushes you back onto the California king-sized bed, eagerly following as he lays his body on top of yours. Long gone is the sport coat he was wearing earlier, and he thanks whatever deities he may owe this to that he really only has to get three articles of clothing off.

Carmy pulls away, because he’s gotta get one goddamn good look at his wife.

His wife.

His breath picks up, as he drags his fingertips over the straps of your red lace bra, down to the mesh cups, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers run over your already-perky nipples.

“You like?” you ask him, a small amount of vulnerability in your voice as you do.

“Do I-, baby, have you seen yourself?” he stammers, in disbelief that you could even ask, only to be met with a smirk because you know you look good.

But that’s not what you’re asking. You want to know if Carmy likes it, because you have much more where this came from – lingerie, you mean. And instead of telling you, Carmy has bigger and better plans to show you instead. He begins to leave hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, across your chest, nipping at the top of the bra cup with his teeth when he gets there.

Carmy’s eyes move to yours, watching you for a reaction so he knows that he’s giving you exactly what you want. To his delight, you hiss in pleasure, arching your back as an invitation, offering your body to him in a silent effort, begging for more.

“This why you put on this dress?” he rasps, in reference to the fact that you had insisted on doing an outfit change from the courthouse to the reception. His tongue snakes out, running over the mesh fabric that barely covers the nipple of your left breast.

You moan, letting out a small giggle in between breaths, as you cook up a witty reply.

“‘S not like I could wear anything underneath my wedding dress. Had to come up with a plan B,” you counter him, just another part of your seduction.

Carmy lets out a well earned-groan and it’s music to your ears as he continues to move down your body, worshiping you with his mouth, his tongue, muttering to himself that he’s not sure whether he would’ve preferred that – you in your wedding dress, nothing underneath – or this, all fire and lace.

But he doesn’t have time to think, settling on the fact that as long as he gets to have you, he’s not sure he cares.

“This is so fucking sexy, baby,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He almost forgets to breathe for a moment, as it dawns on him that you’re his, and that you’re here, all spread out for him tonight, aching for him and only him.

Before you can get in a word, he’s pushing your legs apart, settling down in between them to get exactly what he wants. You let out a gasp of surprise, considering he hasn’t taken off our panties, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls them to one side instead.

“Fuck,” he hears you whine, as he buries his face between your thighs. “Oh my god, Carmy.”

His favorite thing.

Tasting you. Bringing you the kind of euphoric pleasure that makes you feel high.

He loves the way you say his name, and how it changes, when his tongue traces tight circles around your clit; how it changes when he flattens his tongue up against your wet heat, painting broad strokes; how you cry out when he’s busy tracing abstract shapes across you till you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. Carmy moans against you, as he feels you thread your hands through his golden locks, and the sensation of your fingertips running along his scalp goes straight to his cock.

“Carmy, don’t stop!”

And how could he? How could he deny you the one thing you’re asking for? His mouth on you, bringing you higher and higher, winding up that coil buried so deep inside you that it has to explode, knowing that it’s him and only him that makes you feel this way.

You’re pulling at his hair, grabbing at the bedsheets, bucking your hips up into his mouth, writhing underneath the weight of his hands that hold you in place. He can’t keep his hands off of you, desperate to feel the way your body responds to him at every touch – holding your hips down, pressing your legs wider, grabbing at your breasts as he dips his tongue inside of you.

“Oh my God. Carmy, fuck. Don’tstoppleasedon’tstopdon’tyoudare-!”

The feeling of your orgasm ripping through you completely rendering you speechless as you come. Carmy slows down the movements of his mouth, working you through your orgasm, wanting you to know that he’s here for you, that he’s got you as you come down. He uses his tongue to clean you up, watching you carefully as you try your best to catch your breath, committing this image to his memory.

There are two places he feels like this – triumphant, untouchable, on top of the world – in the last push of a hard won dinner service, and when he’s right here, between your legs, in the falling action of your climax as he waits for you to come back to him.

Carmy waits for you, watches as your eyes begin to flutter open, your breath still heavy, as you look down on him.

“Shit. Who knew married sex would hit so differently,” you pant, let out an incredulous laugh from how hard you just came.

Carmy grins up at you, and he loves the way it feels as you pull him towards you once more. Your hands are desperate, needy, impatient as they tear through the buttons on his shirt, practically dragging the top over his head and tossing it onto the floor with a vigor he knows only comes from how much you need him.

“You good, baby?” he asks, cockily, because after years of this, he thinks he’s earned the right to know just how good he always makes you feel.

“Just need you, Carm,” you rasp, propping yourself up so that you can chase his mouth with yours. “Need you so much. Need you inside of me.”

“I know, sweet girl. I-,” he begins to say, before freezing, as if there’s an alarm going off in his head, his voice full this time as he swears, as if he’s just forgotten a really important date:

“Ffffffffffffffffuck.”

“Everything okay?” you ask, sitting up this time in response to his sobering pitch.

Carmy can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as he flushes red, completely embarrassed that he’s put the heat of the moment on pause for this, knowing fully that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it now.

“Yeah just I just gotta-... give me like… five seconds. I promise,” he nods, though his eyes silently plead with you.

You shake your head as Carmy leaves you, his footsteps rapid and hurried as he practically sprints over to where you left the suitcases in the hallway. He swears underneath his breath, rummaging through his bag before finding a certain plastic tupperware, a feeling of relief washing over him. He can hear you laugh as he runs through the room, tucking it safely in the mini fridge, and he can only imagine that it’s quite the sight to see.

By the time he returns to the bed, cheeks flushed, and an apologetic look in his eyes, you’re sitting up on your knees, waiting for him with an amused look on your face.

“Do I want to know?” you ask, skeptically.

“You’ll thank me later,” he chuckles, still embarrassed. Shyly, as he steps towards the edge of the bed, he works up the nerve to ask, “Will you uh.. Think we can pick up where we left off?”

Still stunning as you were moments ago but now with that post-orgasm glow, you wrap your arms around Carmy’s neck, pulling him in closer so that he’s standing across from where you kneel.

“You can come back to bed. But lose the pants, jerk,” you reply, feigning disapproval.

He nods, eagerly taking off his pants as he joins you back on the bed in only his briefs.

Carmy’s intent on making it up to you, his mouth back on yours as soon as possible, lowering you to the bed as his hands grope at any exposed flesh he can. He’s dragging the straps of the red bra down, but refuses to take it off completely. Keep it on, he insists, because he can’t get the image of you riding him in it out of his mind. It’s not till he’s tearing your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere on the floor that you know he really means business this time.

“No more interruptions,” he promises you, as he settles in between your legs, his briefs long gone and his hard, aching cock desperate to feel you.

As Carmy presses into you, reeling over the fact that every time feels like the first – it’s that glorious, that wondrous – you know, without all the trauma of your actual first time. You’re all tight, wet, heat pulsing around him and for once, he doesn’t have to think for a moment.

Carmy’s always been a thinker – an overthinker, really, calculating each and every move with strategy – rarely ever a doer because that’s just not who he got to be. But with you, inside of you, it’s all instinct, and breath, and I love yous, both in pursuit of your shared pleasure. In these moments, he gets to be a doer, responding to your every moan, taking the lead when he knows what will set you off, showing you just how much you turn him on with every kiss, every touch, every thrust.

It doesn’t take long for you to push him onto his back, reminding him that he has some making up to do for the earlier coitus interuptus and that he should let you fuck him instead.

But as you climb on top of him, turning around so that your back is to him, he swallows, admiring the view you’re so intent on giving him. He can picture it clearly, exactly – your head thrown back, biting down on your bottom lip, brow furrowed as you sink down onto him – even though he can’t see your face.

Instead, he listens to the way you whimper his name as you begin to move your hips, traces the curves of your body as you settle into a satisfying rhythm, digs the pads of his fingers into your hips and your ass because he just can’t not touch.

It’s music to his ears as you let out a keen-like moan when he begins to meet your hips with thrusts of his own, speeding up the perfect rhythm you’ve set. He can feel you squeezing around him, chasing your own high as you fuck yourself on him, and he can feel that familiar tightening at the bottom of his belly.

“Fuck,” he grits out, his jaw tightening as he can feel it coming.

All it would take was a few more thrusts, a vigorous pace, take hold of your hips and showing you just how he wants it. But instead, Carmy sits half way up, reaching out for you as he stills your hips against his. His movement causes you to shift as you realize he’s sitting all the way up, wrapping an arm around your waist, the new angle causing you to squeeze around him.

“Baby,” you whine, beginning to grind your hips in circles where you’re connected.

“I wanna see you. I wanna see you cum again,” he requests, his voice tender yet intent, as if he plans on embedding the words into your skin. And as he leaves little kisses against your shoulder blade, his words go straight to your heart.

“Okay,” you agree with a soft whisper.

Carmy sits back just enough to let you switch positions, before propping himself up on both hands that rest behind him. With the softest smile he thinks he’s ever seen, you climb back onto his lap. Grabbing the back of your head, he pulls you to him, kissing you like he wants to give you the world and then some. Your hands smooth over his strong shoulders and inked arms, then you’re reaching down between the two of you, guiding him back into you as you take him once more.

He swears his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels you again, beginning to move your hips in perfect harmony together. This new position is passionate, intense, intimate. Your hands are cradling the back of his head, kissing him like he is oxygen, as he surrenders to you, to the moment, to the dance between you.

“I like this,” Carmy finally says, as he notices the way the straps of your bra hang loosely off your shoulders.

“Me on top of you?” you smile, devilishly.

“This,” he repeats, his eyes hungrily taking in the image of you on top of him in this sexy lace little thing, as he toys with the red elastic. “But that too.”

You grin before pressing your lips against his once more, because he truly has no idea what else you have in store for him.

“Feel so good, sweet girl,” Carmy grunts out, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, sloppier as the feeling returns. “You feel so good.”

You throw your head back in a moan, and he knows you’re letting him set the pace. He’s so goddamn close to cumming, as the two of you chase both of your highs this time.

“I love you, Carmy,” he hears you whine, your head leaning against his shoulder. “So much. I love you, baby.”

He can feel it – feel you – and he knows you’re close.

“I love you,” he manages to get out, in between a clenched jaw.

His hips stutter, and you’re tightening around him, losing all control, surrendering to your release as you cry out. Watching you come undone around him, feeling you contract and release around him, calling out his name till your voice is hoarse is what brings him there with you. Carmy continues to fuck up into you, filling you, as his hands begin to slow down the pace of your hips.

You’re magic to him – somehow just as and more electrifying as the day he met you, the day you told him you loved him, and today, the day you both said, “I do.”

“I think you’re right,” is what he says, in between pants, finally breaking the tension. “Married sex is a whole ‘nother level.”

“Cheers, Mrs. Berzatto,” Carmy toasts to you.

“And a cheers to you too, Mr. Berzatto,” you reply, clinking your champagne flute with his before drinking.

After coming back to reality – recovering from your joint discovery of just how damn good married sex is – you and Carmy spent a few more precious moments in each others’ arms, sharing languid kisses and whispered words. And after cleaning up, you both came to an agreement that if this weekend is anything like how it started, you will absolutely be in need of fuel – Carmy encouraging you to order a few things for room service off the hotel’s late night menu.

So here you are, drinking clinking glasses of fancy champagne over overpriced burgers and truffle fries, as you begin a new journey with your husband, thinking to yourself that there’s no other way you’d want this to be. Wrapped up in his Ralph Lauren Oxford shirt that you’d gleefully pulled out of his suitcase after your quick rinse off in the shower, Carmy’s got one of those looks of deep admiration in his eyes while he listens to you you wax philosophical about something or other.

It’s not that he’s not listening – it’s just that he cannot get over the fact that you made it here – something his twenty-five year old self probably never would’ve believed.

“Any chance you’re still hungry?” Carmy asks, a hopeful look in his eyes as he watches you polish off the last bite of your burger.

“Actually, yeah. Someone wore me out,” you answer cheekily, with a flirtatious shrug.

He smiles, “Good. Stay right here.”

As you watch Carmy jump off of the bed, beelining for the minifridge to retrieve whatever he put in it earlier, you note that it’s the second time that he’s left you tonight whatever the hell it is he’s keeping in that goddamn plastic tupperware. With an arched eyebrow, you ask:

“Watcha got over there?”

Carmy climbs back onto the bed, kneeling as he offers the square-shaped box to you, careful not to knock anything over on your shared room service tray. He begins to peel back the plastic lid, pulling it away from the storage container, earning a well-won sound of surprise from you as you realize exactly what it is.

“Tiramisu?” you gasp, completely moved by your husband’s gesture. “Carm, when the hell did you have time to make this?”

He gives you nothing but a boyish shrug, before gathering your two unused spoons that came with the silverware sets that room service brought up with your late night dinner.

“Had a little extra time at the restaurant this week,” is all he says, which you know is a lie.

You send a skeptical look his way, because rarely does he ever have extra time at the restaurant where he’s just hanging around. Sure, a tiramisu isn’t wildly difficult to make, but it’s been off of The Bear’s menu for years now.

And you should know. You’re the one who put it on there in the first place.

“Thought you didn’t bake,” you challenge him, as you pick up one of the spoons off of the room service tray.

“Yeah ‘s about the only thing I can do… considering it requires little to no baking at all,” he shoots back, picking up his spoon as well.

With no hesitation of being first, you dig your spoon into the soft cocoa powder covered cream and espresso soaked lady finger dessert, before raising your spoon to your lips for a first bite.

“Ohhhh, baby…” you practically moan, your eyes closed as you throw your head back in pure bliss.

Carmy snorts with laughter, but he’s satisfied with your reaction, knowing that he did a damn good job with it.

“Would you two like to be alone?” Carmy teases you, pointing his spoon to the tiramisu then back to you. “Thought this was our honeymoon.”

You lift your head, rolling your eyes playfully, before going back for seconds, “Don’t be jealous. You’re still the only one making me moan like that.”

And suddenly, the room feels about five degrees hotter, as Carmy feels heat rise to his cheeks. But he’s not quite ready to go there again, just yet, so instead he just explains:

“I know we both promised we wouldn’t do any of the food today, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to show you how much I love you in the only way I know how.”

“It’s not the only way,” you tease him with a smirk, as he shakes his head incredulously.

You can tell you’ve made him blush, which is only a little bit funny considering the dirty things that came out of his mouth barely an hour ago. But the silver lining is this, and it’s not lost on you: after all this time and all of these years, it’s good to know that on your wedding day, you still know how to flirt with your husband.

Carmy’s eyes are fixed to the tiramisu as he focuses on digging his own spoon into the tiramisu, inhaling the spoonful right away.

Damn. It is good, he thinks to himself, though he’s usually quite hesitant to give himself a compliment.

“So what were you and Sugar talking about?” Carmy asks, curiously changing the subject.

“Oof. You really wanna kill the mood with that answer?” you counter him, and he can hear the reality of the situation in the way your voice drops.

“That bad?” he pries, hesitantly.

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. While you’re not sure you want to ruin a perfect night by talking about Donna, you also feel like there’s no escaping it either. “Sugar and I’s talk was great but… she was upset… about your mom not coming.”

With a quick raise of his eyebrows, Carmy nods along, only slightly disappointed by the answer.

Leave it to Mom to ruin a perfectly good day without even showing up, he thinks to himself.

“Are… you… okay about it?” you drag out, cautiously.

“Yeah,” he answers with a curt nod. You’re not convinced, eyeing him carefully as Carmy chooses to charge through.

“Didn’t really expect her to come anyways. Would’ve been more drama than it was worth.”

“Bear,” you sigh in response to the impossible situation, because there’s no way that he’s not at least a little disappointed.

He shrugs, his eyes evasive of yours as he scoffs dismissively, shaking his head.

“Welcome to the fuckin’ family, I guess.”

You really don’t want to get into it now – not on your wedding night – so you shut your mouth even though you’re not exactly satisfied with his response. You know Carmy has every right to not want his mom there knowing that everything he’s said is true, but it still hurts your heart that he’s closed off his heart to her like this – that it has to be this way.

You let out a heavy exhale, before digging back into the tiramisu, pushing the thought out of your mind. And just when you think you’re done talking about it, Carmy presses you once more, his voice softer this time as he asks:

“What’d you uh… say? To Sugar?”

You take another breath, a sympathetic smile on your lips as you explain:

“I told her that I was sorry… that things are the way that they are, but I really just think she just needed someone to listen to her.”

“Yeah.”

A half beat.

“And I told her that… well, I told her that… we get to change things. You and I. Her and Pete. With the baby coming and everything too and… and us. Getting married, you know?”

Carmy hums in response, nodding his head as he processes what you said. Returning his gaze to you, it feels like he’s looking right through you, his blues so intense as he softly speaks again.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.”

You wait a beat, then another, noticing that your champagne glass is almost empty. You reach for the bottle, topping off Carmy’s flute first. You search your mind for something else to talk about, because you think he may actually be done talking about Donna this time, a small laugh escaping your lips as you think about today.

“Hmmm?”

Your eyes move to Carmy’s, then back to the almost-empty champagne flute that you’re refilling as you smirk with, “Bold move putting me on the spot like that with the vows.”

He laughs, a blush running across his cheeks as he shyly replies:

“You know, we got there, and I uh… well, I wanted to. Should I uh-, you know… think we shoulda talked about it before?”

“No, I actually kind of liked it,” you reassure him, raising the champagne flute to your lips once more. You take a sip, before continuing to flirt with your husband. “You’re gettin’ the hang of this whole… romantic gesture thing, Berzatto.”

“Anything for you, Berzatto,” he shoots back, emphasizing your new last name in a way that makes your heart flutter at the reminder.

You hum a satisfied hum in response, relaxing a little more into where you sit on the bed.

“Though if I had known ahead of time, I guess I could’ve prepared something. ‘S too bad,” you say playfully, causing Carmy to smile.

“We could do it now,” he offers, his voice going up at the end like it’s a question, and there’s something so boyish in his charm that it makes your heart melt.

“Hmmmm,” you begin, pondering where you’d like to start. He had promised to love you forever, and you him, but as you think about all the ways you want to love him, a smile spreads across your lips.

“Okay,” you accept, ready to play along. “I promise… that on the days you want breakfast burritos… that I will go to the place you like a few blocks down from ours.”

“Even though you think the place across from our place is better and closer?” he asks, unable to hide his shock as his eyebrows raise then lower.

You giggle, “Even though I think the place near ours is way better and is so much more convenient to get to, Bear.”

“Wow uh. Okay then,” Carmy says, taking this as an invitation. “Then I promise to always make sure to check that they put extra green salsa in the bag for you, no matter where we get the breakfast burritos.”

You grin, nodding your head alongside a, “You’re too good to me.”

This time, you take a moment to think it over, taking it more seriously now.

“I think… we should promise… to always have each others’ backs; to always be each others’ teammate.”

Carmy nods his head in agreement, “Yeah I uh… I think that’s great, babe.”

Two of you settle into a comfortable quiet, eating tiramisu and drinking champagne, while Carmy continues to steal glances your way when he thinks you aren’t looking.

He takes a beat. Then another, before propping his head up on his hand where he lays on his side across from you.

“What about this?” he proposes. “We promise to love each other, even when we disagree.”

“Even when you’re being a dick,” you tease him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Even when I’m being a dick and you’re fuckin’ fed up with me,” he agrees with a head nod. “What else?”

“That we grow old together,” you say, without question, before painting him a picture of what you dream it could look like.

“And we promise to take care of each other when we’re cranky and smelly, and you’re telling the grandkids about your glory days as a hotshot chef….” You take a beat, giggling at the thought. “... while I roll my eyes because you’re yelling at someone to bring you your old chef’s knife so that you can show them that you still know how to perfectly Brunoise a carrot.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have to pry my chef’s knife out of my cold dead hands,” he warns you, humorously.

You laugh, “Honey, I knew that when I signed the marriage license.”

“I think we’ll be those grandparents, don’t you? The ones that pass on all of our recipes to the kids and the grandkids, and even when we’re not there anymore, we live on in everyone’s kitchen,” you conclude, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. “You know? You and me.”

“Yeah.”

You exchange a silly laugh, because neither of you know where to go after this, your and his hearts warmed by the thought of growing old together. You’ve been together for years now, but in so many ways, it still feels like you have so much life ahead of you; a life with Carmy that you’re only just getting started.

Carmy waits a beat, allowing your shared laugh to subside.

“I like the sound of this. Of us,” he declares, his voice soft yet sure.

“Me too, Carm. Me too,” you agree.

583 notes · View notes

the-dc-trash · 1 year ago

Text

“Die for You.”

summary: Jason is having complicated… feelings for (Name)— and they are so hard to articulate when he is so deep inside her

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, degradation (a small bit), praises, spitting, spanking (just one time), unprotected sex, dropping of L-Bombs, friends to lovers

Note: this is a repost! It kind of flopped when I posted this yesterday so I’m reposting it 😭 this is a second part to to the first post!

Jason Todd noticed it.

He always does, no matter how small the detail is, he can see her in a different light after that night, after making the small friend with benefits arrangement when he pumped her full with his cum.

The next few months, God, he was starting to notice it. She's glowing. The nights of her pussy milking his cock empty, she has this glow that he prides himself in because he made her feel that way after taking her ability to walk for the next following days.

But it's more than sex now, Jason thinks. He needs her, he needs to hear her voice every single day, he need (Name) on his side to ramble on her day, he can't do this friends with benefits anymore, fucking hell- Jason needs (Name).

Jason wants to look at her everyday, she's a painting, a masterpiece rather, with lots of perfections and imperfections, from the way how her watercolor eyes looks so good under the sunset rays, her lips that always curved up perfectly everytime her gaze landed on him, and her hands- they fit so perfectly to his that Jason wonders what would it be like to hold them everyday.

Jason loves her- wait. He stopped himself when he saw he's been staring her quietly as she tells her day about seeing a fat orange cat. She's so adorable, what the fuck.

Jason, that's your friend, don't fuck it up.

—

"Jason." (Name) moaned when Jason pushed her head down in the bed, his cock pounds inside her pussy to feel her slickness coating him as he fucked her hard into the mattress like a beast in a heat, this was new, it was like he's frustrated when he's fucking her from behind that she could only mewl and squirm, gripping the sheets below her to take whatever Jason was giving her.

And he feels frustratingly good when he feels her cunt fluttering around him, it's like she's pulling his pulling his cock inside her so tight, not wanting his cock leave her warm pussy who's dripping wet, begging to be released. "Fuck." He groaned when she purposefully squeezed his cock to tease him, something she always does to rile him up more so she can get what she wants- and she wants it hard. “What a fucking brat."

Jason grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it, to make (Name) gasp when her eyes meet Jason's in the mirror's reflection who's looking at her with lustful desires, his hips not stopping to fuck her good like he wants.

She's so beautiful looking like a fucked out slut. His slut.

(Name) was about to close her eyes in pleasure but Jason landed his palm on her ass harshly, her eyes shot open and mewled at the impact, obviously making his cock twitched up when she realized she liked the stinging pain it left behind. "Don't you dare close your fucking eyes.” Jason groaned and let go of her hair, his hands now grabbing the flush of her hips to pull it back to meet his unforgiving pace. “Eyes on me, baby.” He went rougher, feeling the tip of his cock brushed a spongy feeling of her spot that made her arched her back, her head resting on her arm, locking eyes with Jason in lost pleasure.

There it is. Jason Todd knows that look, a desperate look that she's close.

"Close already?" Jason mocked her before leaning to pressed his chest down on her bare back and kiss her shoulder that made her whine softly. (Name) nodded feverishly, her mind couldn't comprehend a single coherent thought when she can feel him so deep inside her. Jason returned to his position to feel her deep again, his eyes looked down to her ass, watching his cock slicked with her own arousal goes in and out of her pussy, and Goddamn, Jason was mesmerized by the sight of how she takes him so well. His line of thoughts were disturbed when she lets out a small desperate mewl and he looked back at her in the reflection and smirked at the sight of a poor (Name) all fucked out.

"Please, Jason, I wanna cum so bad." (Name) moaned, desperately moving her hips to meet his and chase her oncoming orgasm, his eyes watched her features contorting to pleasure, ready to release in any given moment - to which the dark-haired man pulled out abruptly. He wants to see her come undone, her pretty face always gets to him when he make her see heaven.

"Jason!" (Name) groaned, feeling empty without his cock inside her. Jason didn't bother to answer her when he flipped her to her back and drag her lower half to the edge of the bed to which where he stands now. Jason postioned her legs to rest on his upper body, her ankles rested on his broad shoulders, and his hands hold onto her thighs to lift her hips up, her slit is positioned to Jason's erected cock and pushed in without trouble.

He stilled, hissing at the feeling of her warm pussy enveloping him again, a experience he would never get sick and tired of. If Jason moves now, he'd cum on the spot and that would be fucking embarrassing.

Slowly, he sets out a slow pace, his eyes looking at her expression.

Jason will always adore that beautiful sight of (Name) right now, who's lost again to the feeling of him filling her up whole, but he frowned when her eyes are closed again, she knew Jason loves eye contact and he'll always make sure he gets what he wants from her. "Hey," he patted her cheek with his large hand, careful not to hurt but enough for her to to open her eyes. "I said, eyes on me." He grabbed her jaw and his thumb rested her lower lip, as if telling her to open them.

(Name) obliged, her lips parting for him and Jason leaned down, puckering his lips to let a gobble of spit down to her open mouth, watching it in amazement when she moaned in delight, eagerly swallowing it with a lazy smile while looking up to him. There she is with the eye contact. Fuck.

Jason growled. He roughly moved her a bit up so he can rest his knees to the bed and wrapped her legs around his waist to feel her deeper and harder, just like how they both always wanted.

"You're being such a good girl for me." Jason groaned, praising her and sweet tight pussy, his hips not faltering from pounding her and his hands on her waist tightly, watching (Name) under his hold. "Good." Thrust. "Fucking." Thrust. "Girl.”

So fucking beautiful- when he praises her like that, how she melts at those simple praises. And she looks so damn pretty with (Name) looking like a gift sent for Jason to spend his time and efforts, to have her moaning his name like it's the only word she knows under him.

Her hair is a mess, her mascara is running down her cheeks, her lips letting out melody of moans and mewls because of him, her perfect tits bouncing when he fucked her so hard. He can feel himself close just by the sight of her lost on the feeling of his cock plunging deep inside her. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Jason." (Name)'s hand began to wander down and she rubbed her clit in front of him. This made the dark-haired vigilante smiled down at her, absolutely loving she's giving him a show for him to watch.

"Yeah? You like that?" Jason rolled his hips slowly like he's tracing his name on her pussy, marking it for his own, he's so obsessed of her that he couldn't help to do this everytime they fucked, and the best part is?

She enjoyed it, she loves it, and she lets him.

"Mhm." She panted out, her eyes looking down and watch how he rolled his hips so smoothly against her before switching back again to rough pounding her sweet cunt- this made her moan at the sight of it and feel herself getting wetter and closer to peak that euphoric feeling again. "Mhm? Yeah? You like playing with yourself?" Jason watched her moan, he's all sweaty but his stamina is something she always take serious for. (Name) could only nod and lifted her hips to meet his pace, always so needy and desperate for him to fill her up again and again.

He couldn't hold it in. So Jason rested his arms on the side of her head, his pace roughing up and captured her lips with his own that made him groan, she taste so sweet- fuck. "Jason," she whined against their kiss. “Wanna cum with you, please, please? Inside.” She pleaded and Jason groaned lowly at the sound of her helpless pleas. He pulled away and looked deep to her eyes, he can make out everything about her, from her long eyeslashes, her cute nose, her lips.

Jason doesn't want to let (Name) go- he just can't let her go and have other men have her that way he's having (Name) right now, he would rather die again if that was the case. "(Name).” Jason panted out, his brows furrowing, the hold she has on him dawned on him that he groaned at the thought of it, he's not complaining anyways. "Fuck you."

He getting close, and so was she that (Name) could only smile up to him with half-lidded eyes when he cussed her out. She's so pretty, it hurts.

With a few more thrust, (Name) came around his cock with a lewd moan of his name and Jason pupils dilated watching her cumming to his cock that he couldn't help it and bury his face on the crook of her neck.

"I love you." Jason groaned - And ropes of cum shot inside her pussy, his hips stuttering, his whole body getting weak and Jason puts down his weight on her, taking a deep few breaths but he didn't pulled out just yet.

Oh fuck. He said it. He didn't mean to- whatever, just out with it.

They both went silent, besides the heavy breathing, it was... quiet. The weight of his words finally sinking to (Name) and squirmed under his weight to get comfortable. "Uh... Jason you kind of slipped -"

"Shut up." He pressed his lips on her neck. " know what I said." Jason grumbled, his arms wrapping around her body to stop her from moving.

"And I mean it. I love you." the word is so foreign to him. "why do you have to come-" she snorted at that but Jason decided to ignore that. "And ruin me? You and your whole existence is a thorn on my side." Jason bit her neck, leaving a small love bite. "Don't even answer that." He said, he's not feeling to hear whatever witty retort from her right now.

"|... fuck- this was too fast, i'm sorry." Jason pulled back and watched her with rueful smile. "But damn it, fuck you, (Name), I want you. Not just your body. I want you. So let me take you out on a date and let me treat you the way you deserve, unlike those douchebags you go after." He means that, it may be a bad time for them to go heart to heart right now when he's still literally inside her, but if not now, when? He just doesn't want to be a friend she's fucking, he wants to be more than that to her. It's obvious that Jason doesn't have any experience in these kind of fields before, but whatever, he thinks.

(Name) wasn't expecting this but she laughs softly that made him smiled softly at the sound of her voice. This is such a stupid confession." Jason shrugged. "Hey, it's unique."

"I would love to." (Name) looked at him with a smile and Jason felt like all his stress melted just by looking at her with that damn smile.

But of course, Jason who's not an expert yet in any romantic field does what he needs to do.

"… good, but let's think about our date tomorrow." He pushed his hips again, feeling her again and grinned when she shot him a look but her moan said otherwise that made his cock harden again. “Sorry, (Name), you're just to die for.”

#jason todd #dc jason todd #jasod todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x you smut #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x y/n smut #jason todd one shot #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfiction #reader insert #she/her

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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

Text

a deal between friends

Lorcan x f!Reader

Summary: Day 14, Corruption with Lorcan

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), light corruption kink, friends with benefits, light d/s dynamics, minors dni!

kinktober masterlist

Lorcan had known you for years and he knew almost everything there was to know about you. As a friend, of course, he told himself. But, one afternoon, when the words spilled out about your inexperience and how behind you felt, he was absolutely done for.

“Do you want,” he paused, trying to get the words right without messing this up - he had one shot at it. “Someone to help with that?”

“Are you volunteering, Lorcan?” You teased, but he saw how your cheeks flushed. He loved hearing his name on your tongue.

“I am.” He raised one brow, fighting down any signs of his nerves. Your lips parted slightly, your pupils dilating, and he knew he had you.

“Oh. Oh.” He let his lip curve up into a smirk, leaning back in his chair, and tilting his head - waiting for you to form an actual response. “That … that would work,” you said hesitantly, and he watched how your pulse fluttered. If he told you right now all of the things he wanted to do to you, all of the plans forming in his mind, he’d scare you off for certain. But, he’d get the honor of teaching you everything about pleasure and enjoy each second

“That’s not very enthusiastic.” He countered, to test how you would reply.

“If you don’t want the job,” you said the words with a smirk, “I can go find someone else.”

“No.” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to. “It’s mine.”

Mine. Gods, the pure possession in Lorcan’s words gave you goosebumps. His, the word popped into your mind and you quickly shoved it back down. This was transactional, a friend helping a friend - that’s it. And it would do you good to remember it. Still, looking at him - the dark eyes, the sharp lines of his face, the way his hands were gripping the table and you imagined how they’d feel on your thighs, around your throat. You were already blushing but the arousal you knew was coming from your scent made the blush spread down your chest, likely all the way to your navel. You already wanted to wipe the satisfied look off his face, instead you rolled your eyes at him.

“Alright. It’s yours.”

“That’s better,” he tapped his fingers against the table, his eyes fixed firmly on you. “I’ll come by tonight.”

He stood, rounding the table before stopping next to you. His gaze traced down from your lips to the curve of your breast, before shooting back up to meet your eyes. You froze as he traced one finger across your collarbone and your breath caught. His lips twitched at the corners and he left without another word. When he was out of sight, you slumped back in your chair, holding your head in your hands. What the hell had you just done? Having Lorcan ‘help you out,’ in his words? And meeting him tonight? You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else for the rest of the day.

You paced anxiously, waiting for Lorcan to show up. He hadn’t given you a time, which was slightly infuriating, but that anger was overshadowed by the giant pit of nerves in your stomach. What time was tonight? If he planned on showing up at midnight, you’d definitely lock him out. Less than an hour after sunset, a knock sounded at your door and you forced yourself to take a deep breath before answering. Lorcan stood there, leaning against the wall. He pushed himself off as you swung the door open, stepping aside to let him in.

“Want something to drink?” You asked, turning quickly to head to the kitchen. You could use something to calm your nerves, that’s for certain. You didn’t drink anything before he came over, but in hindsight that might have been a good idea.

“Sure,” he said, his normally stoic voice laced with amusement, and settled on the couch.

You glanced over your shoulder, his long legs were stretched out in front of him, one arm braced over the back of the couch. He looked so … calm and relaxed, as if this was a perfectly normal thing for him. Maybe it was. A strange hit of jealousy rose in your chest, and you shoved that back down - deep, deep down. A friend helping a friend, that’s it, no reason for you to feel that way.

You let out a slow exhale, quickly pouring each of you two fingers of whiskey into one glass. On the second one, your hand was so shaky it jolted, and you cursed as some of the liquid spilled out onto the counter.

“For fucks sake,” you grabbed a towel, starting to soak up some of it, “what a waste.”

“Nervous?” Lorcan called from across the room.

“No.” you countered, maybe a bit too quickly. You picked up the bottle again, and felt a presence behind you, one of his hands covered your own, his body hovering just an inch behind you, the other one bracketing the counter. Your heart sped up as he tilted the bottle for you, stopping at just the perfect amount.

“It’s alright if you are,” he murmured as you shoved the bottle to the back of the counter.

His hand swept the hair away from your shoulder, gathering it on one side. He gripped your chin between two of his fingers, twisting your head so you’d look at him.

“Just a friend helping a friend,” your words were barely audible.

Something in his eyes darkened, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Right.” He released you, taking a step back so you could turn around, but didn’t move any further, only reaching behind you to snatch the small glass, pressing it to your lips. “Drink.”

His words were a pure command, and something in your belly coiled as your lips parted. The liquor was a familiar and welcome burn, easily sliding down your throat. His eyes were fixed on your lips as your tongue darted out to catch the few drops left behind. “Good girl.”

The coil already building inside you tightened, and you braced one arm on the counter behind you. The corner of his mouth indented, a grin from him if you’ve ever seen one, and he snatched the other glass up, jerking his head towards the couch.

You followed him on slightly unsteady feet, aiming right for your favorite armchair. Maybe some physical distance between the two of you would be good right now, because you’re not certain if you could trust yourself. You were just about to lower yourself into the chair when he spoke again, “Sit next to me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and you found yourself obeying instantly - and cursing yourself for it. You’d never let anyone boss you around before but … this didn’t feel quite like that. You left a good, safe, foot or so between the two of you. He huffed, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and you squeaked as he tugged you right into his side.

“Gods Lorcan.”

“If I’m going to be helping you, you might as well get close now.”

Lorcan ran his hand down the smooth skin of your arm. He knows you didn’t exactly need to be tucked into his side, but he wanted to feel your skin - the heat of your body against him. Watching you lick the small droplets off of your mouth, your soft pink tongue peeking out … he almost threw you up on the counter right there. “What have you done?”

“Not wasting any time, are you?” You teased him and your voice grew quieter, “nothing.”

“You’ve never even kissed anyone?” He asked incredulously

“Don’t laugh at me.” You mumbled, pressing into his side.

“I promise I’m not laughing.” His throat bobbed, “have you ever touched yourself?”

“A bit.” You admitted, an adorable pink blush coating your cheeks. He grabbed your waist, pulling you so you straddled his legs, running his hands up and down your thighs.

“What does ‘a bit’ mean?”

“It means a bit.” You snipped at him, and he raised a brow.

“Elaborate.”

“You’re bossy,” you deflected, tracing one hand over his cheekbone. “I’ve touched down there a few times in the bath mostly.”

An image of you, alone in your bath, your thighs spread and eyes closed - fingers exploring your clit and folds, your hips keening slightly in the water. He felt himself harden, starting to strain against his pants, but thankfully you were distracted running your fingers over his cheeks, down the column of his neck.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

You hesitated, your hand stopping. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?” You snapped at him, rising on your knees to move off. He gripped your waist with your hands, firmly tugging you back down.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised.” You didn’t reply, only tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, and his eyes narrowed in on the action. Fuck, he was tired of waiting, tired of words at this point, and wound his hand in your hair, tugging you closer, his other hand braced on the small of his back. “Can I kiss you?”

He watched your teeth dig in further, and you gave a small nod. “Words, y/n,” his voice was strained - the narrow grip he had on his restraint splintering, “I need words.”

“Yes,” you breathed, and he closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips were soft and pliable under his, moving awkwardly at first, but he ran one hand down your back, over the curve of your ass, squeezing slightly and your lips parted as you gasped. He took the chance to deepen the kiss, and you began to relax. You let out a content little moan, pressing yourself into him. He decided, right there, that he would be the one to absolutely ruin you, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

He slowly ran his hands further and further up your thighs, each pass coming closer to your core. You were squirming, wiggling and trying to get closer to him, your hips keening. He groaned into your mouth as you brushed against his cock, already hardened. You paused for a brief second, before doing it again.

“Fuck,” he cursed, before flipping you and kneeling before you, tugging legs to bring you right to the edge of the couch. You yelped and braced yourself on his shoulders, planting your feet on either side of him. You were wearing a dress, and nothing but a scrap of silk separated him from touching you, feeling how wet you were for him - he could already scent and see it, but gods all he wanted right now was to taste you. Lorcan let out a long breath, reminding himself to go slowly.

You were gazing down at him, eyes half lidded with lust and lips swollen. His thumbs caressed the inside of your thighs and you shivered under his touch. He rose, just enough to grip the back of your head and tug you down for another kiss, digging his fingers in just enough to keep you in place. You ran your hands down his chest, and he fought the urge to hiss as your cold fingers slid under his shirt, thumbs running over the planes of his stomach.

You separated from him, and gazed at him, tugging at the bottom of the shirt. “Take this off.”

“Needy,” he murmured affectionately, ignoring your squawk of indignance and crossed his arms to toss his shirt to the side. Your eyes gleamed as you took him in, the planes of his stomach, the dark hair of his chest. Lorcan felt oddly … on display, but didn't mind it as your nails dragged down his chest. Light strokes, not enough to bring any pain, but your teeth tugged on your bottom lip as you ran your hands over his chest, down his torso, right towards the edge of your pants. That’s when he caught your wrists.

“Enough for now.” Lorcan pushed gently on your shoulders, letting your body melt back into the pillows. He resumed his strokes up your thighs, slowly getting closer and closer to your core.

You knew, objectively, that Lorcan hadn’t done much, but every one of his touches seemed to set you on fire. The way he groaned underneath you, how his hard length felt against your core - only fabric separating the two of you. You wanted him, and badly enough it started to scare you. “You’re stalling,” you complained.

“And you’re being impatient,” he countered, and settled back on his heels. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Your cheeks flooded this time, bright red - but with embarrassment instead. “I can’t,” you whispered.

“Yes, you can.” His eyes were unyielding, and you got the sense that if you didn’t, he wouldn’t go any further.

“You’re supposed to be the one helping me.” You tried to hedge.

“And I will. Show me.” You reached out to kick him, and he caught your foot, pressing a kiss to the inside of your calf. “Be good,” he warned.

“Fine,” you grumbled, and hiked your dress up, bunching it around your hips. You thoroughly enjoyed how his eyes darkened, zeroing in on the wet spot you knew was between your thighs. Maybe it was the whiskey, but a sudden bit of boldness rushed through you, and you brought your knees up, shimmying to pull off your underwear. You made it halfway down your thighs before his hands caught yours, pulling it off the rest of the way before discarding them haphazardly to the side.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and a smile started to creep onto your face. The fresh air hit you, the breeze coming in from the window was enough to draw a strangled whimper out of you. Lorcan’s hands gripped the inside of your knees, spreading you apart and instinctively you tried to draw them back together, but his grip didn’t budge, he only tore his eyes away from your cunt to look up at you. “What are you waiting for?”

You trailed your fingers over your thighs, carefully running one up your folds. Before he could stop himself, he caught your hand and brought your finger to his mouth. The fucking taste of you, you tasted so damn sweet, a clean kind of sweetness with a rich undertone that would drive him mad. He convinced himself he could get drunk off of it - even more the way your pupils dilated as he swirled his tongue around your finger. He released it, a smirk on his face, before guiding your hand back to your sweet cunt. “Go on,” he encouraged you.

You bit on your bottom lip, running a small circle around your clit. Your eyes closed, circling again before pressing in lightly. His gaze switched rapidly between your expression and your hand, the way you carefully explored yourself, squirming as if you couldn’t figure out exactly where to touch. All you wanted was him. His hands, his tongues, anything as long as it was Lorcan touching you.

Your hand stilled and your eyes opened. “Touch me. Please touch me, Lorcan.”

The sound of his name on your tongue broke the rest of his self control, and he threw one on your legs over his shoulder. He blew against your clit, eyes watching to see your reaction, and sucked your clit.

“Oh,” your mouth parted, eyes wide as you watched him.

Honestly, you couldn’t really tell what he was doing, but it felt so damn good you would’ve begged him not to stop. Lorcan had one of your thighs thrown over his shoulder, gripping the other firmly to keep your legs spread for him. You gasped as one finger teased your entrance and he paused, looking up to meet your eyes and you could read the words in his gaze; “is this alright?”

“Don’t fucking stop,” you hissed, and his lips twitched at the corners. Your walls clenched around him as his finger entered, your body squirming at the strange sensation. He crooked his finger, hitting a soft spot on the front of the walls, and you threw your head back in a silent scream.

Your entire body seemed to coil up, sweat starting to glisten on the back of your neck. Release, that’s what it felt like - everything exploding inside of you, all consuming and euphoric, almost on the border of being too much. Slowly, you felt yourself come down from the high, your body sated and limp with pleasure.

Lorcan slid his finger out of you, and had an almost predatory look in his eyes, one that made your pulse flutter. “Gods, y/n.” He groaned.

“Was that …?” your voice trailed off.

“Yes. It was.” You licked your lips, your eyes trailing down his body, towards where he was straining against his pants. That felt … incredible and you wanted to make him feel that way, to have him come undone for you just like you did for him. “Not today.”

“Why?” You whined, sitting up, and Lorcan had to take a second to compose himself.

“This is about you.” He rubbed gentle circles to the inside of your thighs. Watching you finish, and knowing he was the one giving you your first filled him with immense satisfaction. Satisfied that he was the one bringing you there, for the first time. Almost like he’d left a mark on you, something you’d always remember.

“I want .. I want more.”

“Greedy girl.” He hummed, ignoring the disgruntled noise coming from you.

“You’re being mean.” Your bottom lip stuck out slightly, and he flicked it, but rose to his feet, tugging you to stand before switching spots, back to the position you were earlier, although your legs were shaking this time - he noticed with some satisfaction as he ran his hands up and down your thighs. You moved quickly enough he didn’t catch it, and your hand palmed him through his pants.

His hips jerked and he cursed under his breath, catching your hand before you could do anything else, anything else that might make him bend you over the side of this couch and split you in half. Hellas knows he wanted to, but he held himself back - he didn’t want to overwhelm you. And … part of him wanted to drag this out for as long as you’d let him, and if that meant waiting and holding back then he was fully capable of doing it. His hand pressed you back into his chest, slipping under your dress to run firm strokes up and down your back.

- Even though you were still borderline painfully aroused, a wave of exhaustion did take over you, and you figured you could handle resting your eyes for a few minutes. His hand running against your skin had your breaths evening out, and before you realized your head had dropped onto his shoulder, soaking in his warmth, a hum of content came from your chest. Safe, you could trust Lorcan, trust him with your vulnerability. You were very glad he offered.

#kinktober 2023 #throne of glass fic #throne of glass smut #lorcan salvaterre x y/n #lorcan salvaterre x reader

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beautifulpersonpeach · 7 months ago

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Peach..

I miss him so so much.

Can you gush about Jimin ?

Love how you wrote about him.

Thank you so so much in advance.

Whenever you are free. No pressure.

***

Hi @misslauwie

When your ask came in weeks ago, something in my chest squeezed a little. Because god yes I miss him too. Sometimes it feels like the whole world is kinda 'off', like everything is 'wrong', like we're all stuck in a holding pattern of sorts... And for anyone who thinks that's too dramatic, no it's not. Look around you. The world is kinda fucked, and the reason is because Jimin isn't on stage right now seducing the crowd performing like rent is past due, dancing his heart out, and singing like the fallen angel he is.

It's hard for me to talk about him these days though... I mean, there's always so much to say when it comes to Jimin, but the words don't form quite right for me these days.

Is it alright for me to simply post some pictures I come back to when I miss him and jikook?

Assuming I have your permission, that's what this post is going to be about.

(they cuddle)

There's this one from his last live before enlisting. Bare-faced, in an all black hoodie and beanie outfit looking hot as hell. It's the way he's giving 'Korean skaterboy who moonlights as a hacker', but at the same time he comes across as responsible, capable, and real. Cute too.

But lol, maybe that's just what I see when I'm biased.

Who else gets stuck looking at his eyes?

There's always so much to say about Jimin because literally everything about him could yield its own thesis. From the range and depth in his stage personas; to how pretty his body features are, before they morph into something more... deviant; to his voice that polarizes and entraps every audience. There's so much to talk about when it comes to Jimin, but I keep coming back to his eyes...

(This gave you whiplash didn't it :))

He's always known exactly what to do and how to do it.

Jimin is giving 70s cult leader in this shot and it's a fave. He's too modest to ever ask, but we all know we'd join a commune for him if he pulled that zipper down a little lower.

Anyway. Does anybody know why he likes this pair of shoes so much? I've always found them a bit ugly, but somehow, he makes it work. And it's clear he likes them a lot since he wears them all the time. But like... why?

Another picture I stare at on days when I miss jikook jikooking, is this one.

It's the moon in the shot that does it. The lines and symmetry, the afterglow of the sunset, Jimin's wide curved back, Jungkook focused on him, Jimin focused on him too, the fact someone else saw them like this and took this picture. They could've been chatting about what they'd like to eat for dinner or some other mundane thing, but it's the care and focus they show for each other that comes through so clearly for me in this shot.

This one has a place in my gallery because it's peak jikook.

As is this one:

Anyway.

Down bad for Baby G.

Imagine if PJM2 has a track like Set Me Free Pt 2 + Tony Montana... imagine the cataclysm it will cause in k-pop, imagine the havoc this cutie patootie pie will cause.

Sigh.

One day, when I find the words, I'll try to write about all the ways he charms. I owe a kind person from Tumblr (KPFT) a post about him.

In 2025, he'll be a 30 year old man desperate to get back on stage. And lord, I just hope everyone is ready.

This is the last one.

I come back to this picture sometimes because back then, they really did just have eyeliner and a dream. He gave his all right from the start and has created life-changing art. It's endearing to know he's both a bit of a workaholic and can be lazy too... and to know he still sleeps the exact way - like this:

...and this:

..and this:

@misslauwie I miss him too. Also miss Jungkook and the rest of the tannies. For Jimin, it makes me very happy that at least, Jungkook is with him.

He'll be back soon. 💜

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #bts

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i-write-but-only-sometimes · 4 months ago

Text

Girlfriend | Stardew Valley Sebastian/F!Reader

Synopsis – Sebastian finds out that Sam is dating the farmer. Nice guys finish last.

Content Warnings – masturbation, creepy incel stalker behavior, excessive swearing, jealousy/pining

Author's Note – This is my first time posting a fic online and not just leaving it to rot in my Drive. I'm working on varying my sentence structure and hope the next one will be better!

**MINORS DNI**

The slamming of the basement door echoed through the dim, musty basement. Seb raked his fingers through his hair, grunting “Fuck!” through gritted teeth. The large case that had been slung around his shoulder clattered to the ground, with no regard to whether the keyboard inside would be damaged. Seb rolled his chair back and practically threw himself into it, pulling forward to boot up his PC. Frantic mouse-clicking and key-tapping eventually led him to his best friend’s Instagram profile. This fucking asshole.

Under the username, sam.i.am.01—how lame is that?—in his bio, was the final nail in Seb’s coffin. ‘Taken :)’. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Seb selected the first post, accidentally missing the image a few times before it blew up on the screen. Just a generic beach picture? He clicked the arrow taking him through the slides, ignoring the “cool" shells and sunset views until he got to one photo in particular. Sam and the farmer on the beach. She smiled as he kissed her cheek, both of them glistening, covered in beads of salty water as the ocean behind them reflected a perfect day. The caption: ‘Got to spend the day with my favorite girl in the whole world. <3 Just kidding, mom!’ Pens and pencils clattered to the floor as Seb pitched their container at the wall across the room. He gripped the arm rests on his chair and rolled away from the computer. “What the fuck?!”

Dingy floorboards creaked as Seb huffily paced around the room, biting away at the skin around his fingernails. The ones the farmer painted. ‘That post was days old and no one told me anything! He fucking knows I’m not on social media and he took advantage of that so he wouldn’t have to tell me to my face! He could say he thought everyone knew!’ Sam, that piece of shit, knew how he felt about her. Even when she was still the new girl in town, Seb liked her way before Sam did. He knew that. No wonder Sam had been so “busy” the past few days. Dark eyes focused on the map still sprawled out on the table from last week’s D&D session. It was supposed to be a one shot of an experimental system Seb found on Reddit, but Sam kept cracking jokes and it took longer to get through than expected. ‘I should have known then, every time Sam said something, he’d look to her for approval. And she ate it up!’ Come to think of it, more jokes had been at Seb’s expense than usual. He snatched the map and crumpled it up, colorful dice and intricately painted miniatures flying off and scattering on the floor. The map landed in a ball near an overflowing trash bin. Heart pounding through his ears, he returned to the computer. “Fuck this.”

As he sat, Seb tugged at the button on his dark jeans, undoing and and lowering his fly. He hated Sam, he fucking hated him, but he couldn’t change how good the farmer looked in her tight little swimsuit. Seb drank her up with his eyes, memorizing how nylon spandex indented her smooth skin. How sweat and saltwater intermingled and rolled down her curves. It was like he could taste her, and when he palmed his growing hard-on through the denim of his pants, he could feel her too. Running thumbs around the hem of his pants and boxer briefs, he hurriedly pulled them down mid-thigh, freeing his erection. He was warm, but it felt nice in the cool air. Under the desk was a bottle of lotion, and Seb reached down to pump some into his palm. This is it. This is what Sam fucking deserves.

One hand blocked the face of a traitor on his monitor while the other began massaging lotion onto his stiff cock. ‘Sam’s such a pussy, she’s got to pity him, going for a guy like that. But he doesn’t get the connection we have. He’ll see.’ He could treat her so much better. He knew he’d treat her so much better. Seb’s fist pumped at increasing speeds as he imagined the things he’d do to her.

If she chose him, he’d bring her out to the beach late at night. Elliot and Willy would be asleep at home and they’d have the shore to themselves, letting them talk and relax to the sound of waves crashing uninterrupted. She’d kiss him under the moonlight, and he’d snake a hand under the stretchy fabric of her bathing suit to fondle her breast, kneading her hard nipple under his thumb and making her hum in satisfaction. Her moans would be the invitation he needed to take things further, straddling her and humping her wet cunt through her swimsuit. She removes her arms and pulls the fabric down past her tits, and Sebastian is mezmerised by the way they bounce beneath him. He lunges forward, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, before pulling it upward and releasing it with a satisfying pop. Her moans reverberate into the night but are drowned out by the ambient sound of the ocean. But Seb wanted more; he wanted everyone to hear what he was doing to her. Shimmying his swim trunks down to his knees, his eyes bore into hers, begging for permission to enter. “Fuck me.” And so he does, yanking her swim bottoms to the side and plowing her into the sand. His hands and knees sink into the ground beneath them, but he still manages to pull her hips towards his and ram into her with unexpected force, grunting with each rut.

Sand sticks to her sweat-slicked skin as she pleads to him. “Shit, Sebastian…!” She reaches to lick a stripe up his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin just under his jaw and making him shiver. He pulls back, keeping his eyes on hers as he licks his thumb and grazes her clit. She squirms under him, rolling her hips to gain more friction.

“What, you like that?” He smirks, but her frustrated groans as a result of his teasing convince him to relent. He traces swift circles around her clit and is rewarded with a tightening around his cock.

“Yes…yes!” Seb lulls his head forward, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and watches as her pussy contorts around his shaft as he penetrates her. Fuck, she’s so hot.

He wanted her so fucking bad, it wasn’t fair. The glow of the computer screen illuminated his flushed, sweaty face in the dark room. She was so tempting, he found himself rutting desperately into his fist, increasing the strength of his grip as though it was her squeezing around him. Glazed eyes darted from the image of her breasts, to her midriff, to her ass and back up again; he wanted to visualize them all at once. He wanted all of her. She was his.

Seb brought the free hand against the screen up to his slack mouth, stifling a moan. Seeing the full image again, of Sam kissing his goddess, made him grunt in frustration, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Still, the tension building in his core was at its climax, and he came hot white into his palm and onto the floor beneath his desk. Head rolling back, a cloud of euphoria washed over him, followed by a wave of clarity and regret. Tears rolled down his warm cheeks as he drooped his head into his hand, liked the post, and closed the tab.

#sebastian sdv #sdv sam #stardew valley #smut #stadew valley sebastian x reader #stardew valley sam x reader #jealousy #pining #incel #female reader

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ddymarie · 2 years ago

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☀︎ Bakugo x reader

OPACAROPHILE

☀(n) A Person Who Loves The Sunsets

☀You had a rare weekend with katsuki and you both decided to spend it with a beach date

☀includes: kissing, rubbing, water, body worship, use of good girl, car sex (back shots) .

☀ a/n : I haven't uploaded in a while ik but I have so many fics in my drafts ready to made! Also some song suggestions are scattered throughout the fiction from my 'random' writing playlist! Speaking of music I haven't been able to get bad by wale outta my head

The sky was filled with orange reds and yellows. The setting sun adding a glow to your brown skin. Katsuki eyes looked as if they glowed from the way the sun had affected them, as he towered overed you, even sitting down.

"Katsu~ " he mocked holding your face in his hands "katsu~, let's go to the beach" he mimicked your voice.

Rolling your eyes lying back on the towel. Black bathing suit (design of your choice) highlighting your curves. Your pretty jewelry added a glow to you. You looked like a goddess.

Your Bluetooth playing partynextdoor. The smirk on your face was quickly wiped away when your boyfriend suddenly picked you up " katsuki! " you screamed giggling "ahh! " the loud splash you caused-caused katsuki to laugh.

" you son of-" swimming back to the surface looking around for your petty ass boyfriend-only to not find him anywhere in sight. Just then you were lifted up from underneath. Katsuki arose from the water with you on his shoulders "look not so bad right, pretty?" he teased looking up at you.

The water dripping off him had you hot and bothered. Fuck he looked like he tasted better then he smelled in this moment. And your favorite thing about him was his caramel scent. It drove you crazy when he sweated.

Retreating from your position on his shoulders. Standing in the water. It came just up to your neck. Paddling your hands on the water as you splashed him. Your small smile soon grew bigger once he began to splash you back " oh, pretty it's on! " he looked into your eye's with a glare hinted with a bit playfulness.

Hours passed before you both decided to call quits on the water fun.

The sky had shined bright even during the night. Stars causing nothing but your silhouettes to appear. Together you both looked like Greeks God's. Especially with your arms around his neck and his on your waist kissing away like you would loose each other to the deep, dark depths of the water. It was majestic.

The sound of your bracelets jingling as you allowed him to lift you up by your thighs. Escorting you outta of the water. Lips just now breaking apart. You both gasped catching breaths you hadn't realized you'd lost.

" you look beautiful in that bathing suit. Might have to buy you more " he said squeezing what he could of your plump ass before smacking it,french kissing you.

Lying you you both down on the singular orange towel. Orange and black the same color of his trunks. Your glasses that once sat on top of your head now falling on the the tip of your nose.

Removing them off your face and setting the black shades a side.

Bakugo began trailing his hands down your body. Lifting a leg of yours over his waist. Licking his lips as he dove in stealing another kiss from you

"Uh-uh" you said looking at the blonded lover in the eyes waving a finger in his face 'no' was what it symbolized " wait til we get home, play boy" you said pushing the muscular man from a top of you

Getting up, taking the blue tooth with you to the car. Katsuki sat there for a moment mesmerized by your jiggling ass before abruptly getting up snatching the towel and your shades up with him trailing behind you...

Laughing as you jumped into your shared foreign car. Katsuki pulling outta the now empty parking lot.

Driving on the empty road one hand on the steering wheel the other on your thigh. It was a small simple gesture of his until it started to trail up your thigh. The car slowed down... Pulling into yet another empty parking lot...it was 10:30 pm

Unbuckling his seat belt while leaning over the the arm rest grabbing your face and kissing you causing you to drop what ever treat you had in your hand. You two had been on the breezy road for about 27 minutes. The large shirt that pulled over your bathing suit. Was now being lifted. The shirt was off within seconds along with your top... And panties.

In this foreign car let it go

You went from kissing in the front seat to receiving back shots in the back of your truck.

" mm~ " you whimpered this man was knocking the air outta your lungs. Leaving you breathless "fuck" he growled throwing his head back. Hands gripping tightly on your waist which was sure to bruise later. Your hips collided. You throwing your ass back meeting his hard forward thrust. " ah-ah ahh~" you moaned as he pulled your hair, Leg up on the seat spanking your ass leaving a visible hand print on your brown skined ass. " fuck, pretty, just like that " he said removing his hand off your ass and onto your neck.

You cried out begging.. Pleading " please~" what were you begging for? Shit you ain't even know. His thrust slowed as he tilted your head down putting you in a face down ass up position and he lurched forward " love this body, baby" he worshipped hands roaming with no destination in sight. The feel of your skin. Your curves. Had this man on his knees everytime he seen em. Whether at home or on the feild. As his thrusts slowed they got deeper. He drew his hips back further it was torture to you. But it felt "soo good~". The pleasure he was giving to you made you arch your back more. You stopped throwing your hips back letting him do his thing. And from there it was nothing but praise~

"Mm~" you whined at his words " ass so soft. " he said gripping your soft ass spreading your cheeks. Slipping a thumb in your butt "ahhh, katsu~" "yea thats right say my name, good girl~"

Take the time to find you out

You love when a young n! go down on it

"Say it baby" he groaned.

" in this foreign car, let it go" he whispered in your ear.

That was all you needed to hear before you let go. " I'M COMING,KATSUKI!" you moaned his name Cumming all over the seats. You both sat there in silence for a couple of moments.

"Guess someone couldn't wait til we got home" you said looking back with a smirk before passing out.

You woke up to the car pulling into your shared pent house parking lot.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

#bakugo smut #bakugo x black reader #bnha x you #bakugou katsuki #mha smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugo x reader #mha x black female reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou headcanons #Spotify

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vicsy · 1 year ago

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They had an agreement, thing is.

Lance hadn't forgotten even in the midst of getting his brain scrambled and his body feeling like jelly once the last bits of the adrenaline seeped out of him; evaporated like droplets of water on the heated surface of the Singapore race track, streaked with burnt tyre marks and covered in the debris of his car.

His dad caught up with him at the doors of the med center, tugging Lance in for a mindful hug, away from cameras and those media vultures. The doctors had already cleared him of the worst but Lance couldn't fight a jittery feeling, even with Lawrence's hold steadying him in more ways than one. He powered through it, though, managing a quick foray to catering and finding nothing to his liking.

Lance's phone was a minute or two away from blowing up, messages and notifications piling up. He called his sister instead of texting her back, gingerly sitting on the side of the hotel room bed, the aftermath of his crash reverberating through his bones, a faint buzzing under his skin. When Chloe picked up with envious speed, as if she's been waiting, Lance cut off whatever she was gearing up to say, his voice steadier than he felt.

Fine. He was fine. He didn't have to see the pics; he's been there, he lived through it. Saved him from the mockery of it all, for sure.

He set his phone on the nightstand beside a pack of painkillers the doctors prescribed and a half-drank bottle of water, slumping against the headboard, floating on the verge of passing out. It took some time to settle in, Lance diligently cataloguing every painful pang and uncomfortable pull of muscles that made him grit his teeth until he settled carefully on his side, facing the panoramic window.

He hadn't forgotten, even in sleep, and when Lance opens his eyes, disturbed by a familiar noise of the door opening, something stirs at the back of his mind, a warning flashing before his bleary eyes.

It was their thing. On media day, Lance found himself chatting away with Esteban when Fernando came up to both of them, discreetly palming Lance's ass, then dipping his fingers in his back pocket to fish out a keycard. Este only looked in horror and Lance barely contained a tiny laugh bubbling in his chest. Fernando's nonchalance as he waved the keycard playfully at him and shot a pointed took Esteban's way earned Lance a nasty smack on the shoulder and a frantic tirade half in French, half in English.

That was Thursday. Lance ended up spread out on the bed, panting into the mattress helplessly, thighs shaking as Fernando took his fill and they fell asleep tangled with each other, sated. On Friday night, he went down to his knees, Fernando's eyes screwed shut and his back pressed against the door of his hotel room, fingers tangled in Lance's hair, the keycard he stole lying on the floor beside him. Two could play this game.

And tonight, they're not supposed to–

There's a muffled sound of footsteps and then the bed dips. Lance moves to roll onto his back, only to stop short as a hand wraps around his middle, strong and possessive. Fernando presses his body alongside his, sure and steady; warm but out of place.

"Fernando?" Lance calls out, dumbly, in some sort of dizzy disbelief.

He wasn't superstitious. It was Fernando's forte. Anyone else would have laughed it off but Lance listened to Fernando's reasoning the night after they raced in Spain, stealing two days out of the schedule to be away from their pressing obligations, media shitstorm and judgmental looks. Lance doesn't remember leaving the bed much but the sunset over Oviedo burned itself in his memory, along with every little quiver and moan Fernando wrenched out of him, sealing their lips together as the sun slipped below the horizon outside an open window.

"Is bad luck," Fernando had said, propped up on one elbow, mouth curving in an easy grin that pulled a lazy smile out of Lance, almost automatically. "Better we always miss one day and meet after the race, no?"

Fernando kissed the corner of his mouth, gripping the back of Lance's neck, and he'd agreed to the terms, never the one to protest. It didn't matter to Lance much back then, setting a tray with their food aside in favor of pulling Fernando on top of him, chasing what neither of them should have ever had.

And yet.

A day before the race, they stay in their rooms; they don't fuck. No funny business.

They had an agreement and it shouldn't be broken over Lance's own string of bad fucking luck or whatever karmic debt he acquired; over the hunger he knows resides deep in Fernando's soul. Over the one that flickers within Lance, a trivial thing before the real enormity of it swallowed him whole.

Fernando's palm slips up and down his thigh, fingers passing over the hem of his sleep shorts and Lance's breath hitches. He's never said no, but he's not in the right condition for anything, let alone lying there and taking it. Usually Fernando rolls him onto his belly and Lance goes, pliant and willing and already breathless with anticipation. Now, his body freezes like he's about to crash again and his mind wanders.

Offhandedly, Lance tries to remember if Fernando had called or texted him but what would be the point of it now? He breathes in shakily, staying painfully still.

"Hey, I don't–"

Fernando cuts him off.

"Shh," he whispers as if annoyed, softly kissing the nape of Lance's neck once, twice, then splaying his palm across the flat plane of Lance's stomach. "You sleep now. Tomorrow, we race."

It knocks Lance off balance, the way he entirely missed the mark. He feels Fernando burrow his face in his hair, breath tickling his sensitive skin. He holds Lance close, his grip unrelenting, borderline suffocating and something cracks open in Lance's chest, spills out and makes him shiver. The tension eases and he tentatively covers Fernando's hand on his body with his.

Crawling out of the corner Lance backed himself into, he settles in the bewildered comfort. In his eyes, Fernando is two men at once — the one who who isn't scared of means to an end in order to win and the one who comes up with a different nickname to call Lance in private, making his heart flutter.

And in the never-ending aftermath of his crash, in the face of those who always turn their back to Lance, the latter man claims his victory. Lulled by Fernando's steady heartbeat against his shoulder blades, Lance slips into fitful sleep, hope nestling deep in his ribcage.

He wakes with a jolt. Feels like he's fallen into a pit, panicky and sticky with sweat, heart hammering away an uneven rhythm. A heavy weight of Fernando's hand is still slung across his back, a solid point of contact. Some semblance of relief lurches in his throat along with nausea.

Lance knows something is wrong. He sluggishly gets his hands underneath himself, struggling to lift himself up, and falls back on the bed with a pathetic little noise. His alarm hasn't gone off yet. It's barely light outside.

His limbs won't cooperate, no substantial strength in his muscles, his t-shirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably. Head pounding, Lance blinks rapidly, suddenly out of breath, like he just completed the race. What a fucking joke. He screws his eyes shut, his mind racing.

A hand pushes on his shoulder to roll him onto his back in a sick reverse of what he's used to. When Lance blinks his eyes open again, Fernando's sleep-rumpled face swims into his vision. He can't read his expression right, just takes in the lines of worry on Fernando's forehead. He must look like hell.

Lance shakes his head against the pillow, the pinprick of tears in the corners of his eyes. Fernando's shoulders sag as he rasps:

"Is fine, Lance."

It's not. He's not fit to race, a hopeless case at this point.

"I can't," Lance chokes against the unfamiliar lump in his throat. "Fer, I'm– I can't."

He hurts all over, pain erupting in different parts of his body and then flaring everywhere at once. Lance feels so fucking betrayed, restrained, pitiful. He remembers waking up from surgery, groggy and still half-broken but it feels worse now, feels baneful. Lance moves to swipe damp hair from his forehead, hand wavering, laden.

Fernando takes him by the wrist, lifts his hand gentle enough and Lance allows to be manoeuvred, guided. Then; a kiss placed over the scar there, warm lips pressed to his clammy skin, grounding him. Lance lets an ugly sob free.

"Is fine," Fernando repeats, a hollow look in his eyes. His fingers tighten around Lance's wrist. "I race for us both this time."

He leaves, soon after; Lance stays behind.

He almost wishes Fernando good luck, out of habit. Almost. Lately, Lance has been all out of it but he'd spare some for Fernando, unprompted. He promises Lance to wear one of his gloves for the race. For luck. Lance's face twist as do his insides. He's always been dismal at masking how he really feels.

The last twenty laps Lance watches from the back of the Aston Martin garage, tucked safely away from the reporters. His body still feels sore, like a foreign entity that exists outside of him but it pales in comparison to the feeling of his stomach dropping as Fernando spins on the track and keeps losing and losing and losing.

Perhaps, it's Lance's luck that does him in. Misplaced blame tastes acrid on his tongue.

As the celebrations unfold, he seeks Fernando out from a distance. He catches him among the sea of mechanics, race suit undone halfway, the same hollowed look from this morning haunting his features. He stalks forward, past where Lance has glued himself to one of the chairs. He makes no move to follow. Fernando doesn't grace him with a mere gaze. In the background, fireworks erupt.

Back in his hotel room, suitcase laid on the floor in disarray, Lance distracts himself and puts his phones aside, itching to shoot a text or anything, really. Fernando has been radio silent since the end of the race, leaving the debrief earlier than usual. Lance isn't some dumb, love-sick teenager, he knows well enough that after today's debacle Fernando would need space. He waits with patience honed with years.

And waits.

Then gives up, momentarily scorned. It's almost past midnight. He should have known better; Esteban would be right to laugh in his face.

They had an agreement.

It's unfair to the core since Fernando shattered it himself and the reason why was kept implicit, just beneath the surface. Too many ifs cross Lance's mind like someone opened the floodgates of his thoughts. If he was insignificant, Fernando wouldn't bother right from the very start but they're way past the point of no return. If Lance was wiser or older or not himself, he would not have cared at all and even now, he fucking shouldn't. If isn't good enough of an excuse to feel the skin on his wrist burn with a ghost of a kiss; to crave the safety of Fernando's embrace. To be the sole center of his undivided attention.

It's still Sunday night.

They had an agreement.

Lance downs the last of the painkillers and drags himself under a thick blanket, the aircon cranked to the max and all the lights turned off.

The door stays shut, the night passes by. His ache grows stronger and doesn't subside.

Morning greets Lance with a taste of defeat and the knowledge settling deep in his bones. He could race with his heart out on the track but could hardly wrestle a win against the clutches the race itself has sunk so utterly deep into Fernando.

Lance's luck leaves him no chances. After all, he was born to lose.

#vicsy writes #strollonso #i though 'how can i make this day better' and chose to make it worse #singapore was hella depressing for strollonso nation #essentially Nando is like we can't fuck before the race it's bad luck and better not see each other #but lance's crush made him go soft.....#anyway sorry for this half baked nonsense #alonstroll #fernando/lance #lance stroll #fernando alonso #strollonso fic #f1 fic #lancenando #lowkey haattee thiiiissssss #listen to Born to Lose by Des Rocs while reading this #can't believe I have to endure the horrors of both Nando and Lance suffering

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mynameis-noe-body · 1 year ago

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Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

OR — you and Hopper have fun in the parking lot, in his car.

The mayor of Hawkins wasn't a particularly politically gifted man, easily bribed and evidently fishy in his manners, devoid of any charm. However, he had always thrown the best Fourth of July parties. This year, as always, Hawkins park has been transformed into a huge, glittering Luna Park. It's just sunset, and everything is illuminated with colored neon, written in large letters attracting people like moths to a flame. Children run amused among the rides, greedy for cotton candy and soft candies, lollipops and sugar-coated pancakes. Families jump from one attraction to another holding hands with the little ones, whose eyes sparkle like so many little stars, inebriated by the festivities. Music plays everywhere, incessant and covered only by the sound of laughter. It's a warm summer evening. The clear sky, of a warm blue that gets darker as the minutes go by, is the backdrop for a blanket of stars that finally seem to show themselves. And everyone is waiting for the fireworks.

Yet, none of this catches your eye. The usual amusements, the usual rides, the usual sweets. You even wore the same shorts as last year, the jeans just a little tighter around your hips, a little shorter along the soft curve of your buttocks. You are slightly sweaty, a wet line permeates your white shirt leaving a transparent veil between your breasts. A breath of fresh wind ruffles your hair, giving you relief. And your eyes, dreamy and greedy, rest on only one person. Jim Hopper, Chief of Police. He's not on duty tonight. Jane Hopper, his young adopted daughter, has already ridden off on the ferris wheel with her boyfriend, and he seems almost annoyed; he's been chatting with your father for a few minutes now, with an ice-cold beer in his hands. He looks bored, hot. That Hawaiian shirt would look ridiculous on anyone else, but he fills it completely. His thick arms, full and shot through with soft muscles, are absolutely delightful. You can't take your eyes off the way his chest looks so large and huge and tight under that garment. Almost as hot and delicious as his ass - god, a forty-year-old man has no right to be that damn sexy. Irresistible.

If you weren't (almost) sure that Jim could never be attracted to someone as seemingly young and green as you, you'd say that his eyes have turned to look at you more than once ... and yet, it seems so. His gaze is so heavy on you, you feel it glide over every curve of your body, you almost feel him touching your sweaty clothes on top of you – you wish they were his hands. You smile, wave your hand to say hello. Your father smiles, but you don't look at him. Jim doesn't take his eyes off you, even when you take your blue lollipop - just bought from the stall - and suck it hard into your mouth, between your cheeks. You lick it until it leaves a blue streak on the soft flesh of your tongue, around the edge of your rosy lips. You just wait for your dad to walk away - your mom must still be somewhere near the photobooth - and then, finally, you walk towards him.

He wants to spank you. It's a sick, dirty, damned irrepressible impulse. You, with your languid eyes, and that mouth that must be the softest and sweetest he could ever taste, drive him crazy ever since he realized that inside your tight jeans, inside your tight and low-cut T-shirts, inside your full clothes, you've grown into a young, gorgeous woman. He would like to wrap his fingers around your neck, squeeze it until he takes your breath away and hear you beg. Beg for what - this is not important. But when you get close, he's wearing his best smile. Safe, protective - all that he, in that moment, is not. No, you're a lost little sheep, and he's a hungry wolf who can't wait to sink his teeth into your flesh.

"Hello, Chief" you chirp, and smile. Your lips are smeared with blue sugar. It must be delicious.

Jim smiles. "Hey, kid. You okay?"

You huff with an amused laugh. "Kid? I haven't been a kid in a while, Hop. What do I have to do to show you that?"

Adorable. Your games are adorable. "Um, I don't know." Jim takes the lollipop stick, his rough thumb lingering a moment longer on the outline of your lip. The soft blush on your cheeks blossoms on your neck, runs down your chest and his greedy eyes can't help but wonder how far that sweet blush extends on your body. The treat slides out of your mouth, resting on your lips. "A woman, for example, wouldn't waste time with these sweets."

You smile, you fucking vixen. "Really?" you reply, impertinent. Snatching the lollipop from his hand, you suck it once more between your clenched cheeks before handing it to him. There's still a glistening trace of saliva around it. "It's so good, it would be a shame to throw it away. Why don't you taste it?"

His nostrils flare, sniffing in the cool evening air in a desperate attempt to hold on to what little control he has left. And he smiles. Tense, forced-like his pants, increasingly tight and uncomfortable. But when he barely opens his mouth, and tries to take the lollipop from your hand, you push it away, hiding it back in your cheek. "If you want it, you gotta catch it!" and with a goofy laugh, you walk off, hopping towards the parking lots.

God, you will be the death of him.

It's not difficult to find you, leaning against his police van with only one hip, your tongue sinuously rolling around the little blue sugar left, that sweet and colorful stain in your mouth that he doesn't want to wait any longer to taste. You expect him to stop, an amused grin, an almost pedantic reproach, and instead Jim keeps walking towards you with large steps, determined and without hesitation. His eyes have never been so dark and deep, his lips are already anticipating yours and just a moment - he is on you, Hopper cages you between the metal car door and his warm and massive body, his left hand on your hip digs into the softness of your body so hard it almost leaves a mark and his left hand grips your neck - tight enough to take a quick breath away, before covering your lips with his.

The lollipop falls forgotten on the floor.

His tongue eagerly seeks yours, fills your mouth and feeds on your sweet taste. You are perfect - perfect. Your small stifled moans die in your throat as he devours your lips, sucks your tongue between his lips and bites lightly into your mouth just to make you feel how he could destroy you with a simple kiss, break your lip and suck it again.

"Didn't they ever tell you it's not safe to tease a man like me, hm?" he growls into your skin, you feel the roughness of his beard scratching your neck, his lips sucking red marks all over you, as if to write his name on your body. It's terrifying, to find yourself powerless in such intense hands, pressed against such a strong and warm body. It's exciting. Pressing your palm against your mouth, you try to stifle a gasp, somewhere between pleasure and pain when he pinches your nipples from over the top of your shirt. "Your dad knows what you like to do? Runnin' around the parking lot, begging like a desperate bitch, with your stupid, little games? You knew this would happen." His voice makes you tremble with pleasure, and anxiety. "Remember that, when you think about it. You wanted it - you want me, my hands, my tongue, my cock. Come on, feel it.” Jim takes your hand, abruptly, places it on his crotch and squeezes it inside his. Stifling a moan against your neck, he pushes and presses on you. And it's big and hard and thick like no other. You're almost scared, but you're dying to suck it and feel it emptied down your throat.

"Please" you cry, a little whispered prayer, and so desperate. "Please give it to me - please!"

"That's it, love" he grunts "you asked for this." And his hand rips the button of your shorts with an unheard-of force, you almost feel the fabric of the seam tear. Violently, Hopper undresses you. You are naked from the waist down, you are all wet, clammy with sweat and arousal. His fingers are calloused, rough, so thick, when his middle finger swirls around that swollen pearl, you can't help but dig your face into his chest and stifle a cry of pleasure. He smells of tobacco, beer, cheap cologne, sweat. He's so gross and masculine and delicious at the same time - you're confused and so wet for him, you can't think of anything else. Two fingers slide inside you, you're tight but so wet that Jim can only feel the softness of your body. "So fucking wet, baby. So tight - how is it, hm? Tell me you like it."

"God - yes - yes, Hopper, more!"

He laughs, the bastard. "Such a fucking, little slut. That's what you are, fucking desperate for some dick."

"Only yours" you cry "only you, chief."

He groans at the name. "Keep on with this shit and I won't get to fuck you. And you're dying for me to fuck this tight little cunt."

His fingers dig into your sweet juices, so wet you can feel the sound of his movement around your nectar, his fingers pressing hard against that perfect spot inside you, his thumb rough and flat on your clit until it rips a violent, sudden orgasm. Your legs are shaking, you dig your nails into his muscular arms, clinging to him to keep from passing out and you can't even think. You don't notice that he has opened the car door, and you fall backwards into the seats not knowing what to expect. Only when he enters, sitting next to you, fumbling with his belt and the zipper of his trousers, do you know what awaits you.

You smile, spitefully. "I've waited so long, chief. Give it to me, please. Want you so much."

"Yeah?" for the first time he almost seems to blush. Your words stroke his ego in a way he's forgotten; that such a delightful young beauty as you whould so desire him, it was flattering. And exciting. "Then be a good girl and take it all." Hopper pushed you against the seat and spun on top of you. One hand against the window, the other wrapped around your hips to lift your pelvis and push into you. “Oh, shit” he moans, burying his face in the corner of your neck. "Fucking tight."

You have to stuff your gasps against his shoulder, he's so big inside you, he stretches you - so wide open, it's almost painful, but he's perfect inside you. And when he starts to move, coming out slowly, enjoying your softness, and then pushing harder, ruthless and greedy inside you, you can no longer hold back that immense pleasure. "God, fuck yeah-again, again" you plead and he growls, vents and uses your body for his pleasure, like a flimsy toy in his hands, he slams you into the seat, without any kindness. The car sways, screeches, you feel nothing but his hot, ragged breath against your skin, his stiff legs using all their strength to press you against the seat and drive his hard cock between the abused lips of yours wet pussy. You feel him hit that spot, again, your legs gripping his wide hips, wide open to take him all the way into you, so deep—he's touching places you thought weren't there inside you. "Oh fuck, fuck Hopper, I'm going to - I'm gonna-"

"Come - fucking come for me!" he growls. With a desperate moan, one last thrust into you, he feels your pussy throbbing around his member, squeezing and milking it desperately, fully enjoying your orgasm, and it's so intense he can hardly contain himself anymore - as soon as you start again to breathe, Jim slips out and comes too. He empties on you, on your bare thighs, on your belly, splashes of hot cum dirty your skin and your ruined clothes as he masturbates all of his orgasm on you, with a last desperate breath.

"Shit" he whispers, finally. Dropping into the seat next to you, Hopper inhales deeply, and his gasps slowly extinguish, as he decides to grab a cigarette and roll down the car window. "Look at you" he comments, with an amused smile. "Looking like I just murdered you, love."

You smile, tired and fully satisfied. "No, not yet, Hop."

He looks at you, curious. Almost hesitant. But your eyes are so bright – no one should be looked at with such devotion after doing what he just did. Yet there is something so perversely satisfying about seeing his cum on your bare thighs. With a handkerchief, Hopper cleans you, slowly. A hand combs your hair, before stroking your cheek. "Go back to your rides, kid" he grins "I bet we'll see each other again soon."

You bite your lip, and he almost wants to kiss you again, watching you get dressed. "Only if you can catch me, chief." And with that cheeky smile of yours, you leave his car, already fantasizing about your next meeting.

Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know! And if you feel a little naughty and wanting for more, please know my requests are open 🖤

#jim hopper #hopper #chief jim hopper #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #stranger things #fourth of july

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ariundercovers · 1 year ago

Text

Choke on It - Dark!Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: (AFAB reader) takes place post-TLOU. They’re both members of the Jackson community, often put on patrols together. Reader has a penchant for destruction and rage, especially in the face of self-preservation. Sometimes, they just want to be able to let go.

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: explicit 18+ graphic depictions of sex and violence. dubcon, choking, breath play, degradation, skull fucking, spitting, forced blowjobs, idk. It’s dark. Kinda a hate fuck? They like each other tho. Semi-established/FWB situation.

a/n: PLEASE HEED WARNINGS. Joel is not a nice man. Y’all, its dark again. Please heed the warnings. Maybe this is where I live now. (No, I don’t – I’ll never get enough of writing fluffy Din fics.) Not a lot of plot. Mostly porn. At least partial credit for this one goes to @ezras--moon! We had a blast working on a VERY similar scene with two other characters, and I woke up this morning with thots, so I needed it to be full-length.

Enjoy, you filthy animals.

This fucking woman.

She was one of the most vicious and notorious members of the patrol in Jackson: the first one they sent out when there were murmurings of a group of raiders, or big trouble past the walls. And he was fucking infatuated by her – always had been. From the day he met her – all grumpy eyes and deep mistrust – something in him always drew him to her.

He looked over at her on the horse just a few meters beside him, sunset framing the shape of her face from behind. It could’ve been one of those super expensive pictures in a museum, he thought. A fucking Michelangelo, or a Bernini, or whoever those old famous artists were that they learned about in high school. Hadn’t thought about them in at least two or three decades, probably wouldn’t think about them again.

The two of them were peas in a pod, really. They ran on the same wavelength – self-preservation, protecting the ones they held close, and a total lack of trust for anyone outside of their inner circle. Joel was all too happy to lean into it, lean into whatever this was with her, especially now with the way that Ellie looked at him like she hated him – his last lifeline connecting him to something more human, severed. She was the last thing for him to grapple onto that gave him any sense of human connection outside of his brother. He took every patrol he could with her, every task in Jackson that would allow him to work near her, with her, in earshot of her, in view of her.

He was a goner, really. That stupid little perfect ass of hers, the way her lips puckered when she spoke. The curve of her breast, the way the scars littered her stupid, perfect face. The devious look in her eye when they went on patrol, when she got herself in trouble – and then, of course, the way she killed things: infected, clickers, raiders, without even the slightest hesitation. The way she shot her rifle without batting an eyelash, sunk a dagger into her enemy’s eye socket without a second thought. The way she let herself just kill, with reckless abandon.

Oh, and kill, she did.

There’s a glint in her eyes that he catches sometimes – it’s fierce, brutal, kind of like the fire he can watch travel under her skin at the smallest hint of danger ahead. It’s like watching lightning strike a tree – explosive, frightening. It all plays a part in why Joel just couldn’t keep her out of his mind. Her presence was all-consuming to him in a way that he couldn’t manage to slip out of. He was bound up in her talons like a falcon’s prey.

It’s her voice – not Joel’s - that eventually fractures the silence between them as they move along their scheduled patrol route.

“Sun’s almost down, we should set up camp for the night. I’ll take first watch, you get some rest.”

He glanced over at her, intrigued. Even the way she commanded things to him – something he wouldn’t take for a second from anyone else – thrilled him. A spark shot down between his legs as he thought about taking that from her, shutting her up and making her follow his own rules, instead.

Their camp for the night is just an outcropping of stone with a few closely spaced trees – they’ve used it before. It’s a small fire and a couple sleeping bags and a flask of Tommy’s shitty home-grown alcohol, held tight to his chest. It’s the silhouette of her damn gorgeous body on display for him, lit up by the flames, just for his viewing pleasure. “I know you’re awake, Joel. Stop staring and go the fuck to sleep.”

How could he possibly sleep? He was too busy thinking up all the ways he could touch her and disassemble her right now.

“Can’t just do that, darlin’.” His voice is gravelly when it comes out, partially due to lack of sleep and partially due to the arousal he’s been trying to fend off since they started their patrol this morning.

“Yeah, you can, Joel. Shut the hell up and close your fuckin’ eyes.” The eye roll she gives him is magnificent – makes him suppress a chuckle in the back of his throat. He sits up, glaring at her, and he slides sideways out of his sleeping bag.

“Now why the fuck would I do that, sweetheart, when you’re jus’ sittin’ there lookin’ good enough to eat? When I could be using that perky little body of yours for whatever I wanted?” His words are laced with something salty-spicy-sweet, cutting her deep while he praises her, catching her off guard.

She blinks back at him a few times, taken aback by his forwardness. He’d never been this direct before – she always had to coax it out of him, convince him it was a good idea, that they should let off some steam with each other every once in a while.

It was threatening. And thrilling.

He stands, slowly, and his movements are labored now that those joint just don’t work the way they used to anymore, but his eyes are back on hers in an instant, glaring daggers right into her soul. She’s sitting on a downed tree a few feet from the fire, and as he stalks his way around it to breech her personal space, she can’t help but recognize the gushing feeling between her legs. This was a different Joel than the one that usually came on patrols with her – a kind of Joel that she always thought he had in him, but he’d never let himself show.

“Yeah, Joel? Not sure you have it in you to make that happen.” She doesn’t move from her spot, perched on the edge of the log with a rifle strewn across her lap. Her eyes stay trained on his, not backing down even an inch, and her body stays relaxed, calculated – unafraid. The taunt is deliberate, teasing the waters of whatever this version of Joel was willing to put up with.

The toes of Joel’s boots click against her own and he crouches down in front of her, eyes still trained on one another with snipers’ gazes.

“That a challenge? I don’t think you wanna challenge me right now, darlin’. I’m feelin’ all kinds of ways about that mouth ‘a yours.” Her eyes narrow at him and she stands, slowly, dropping the rifle into one hand.

“Real cocky for a half-deaf almost senior citizen with two bad knees and a fuckin’ savior complex.” His hand jolts out before his brain has a chance to choose otherwise, wrapping around her neck instantaneously and squeezing – not enough to completely cut off her air supply, but enough to make her feel it. Her hand that’s not on the rifle comes up to claw at his forearm.

“Fuckin’ watch it, sweetheart. I am not in the mood.”

She blinks back at him and smirks, still cocky even with the hand wrapped around her throat starting to squeeze tighter with each passing moment. “Do your fucking worst, Joel. You. Don’t. Scare. Me.”

The chuckle that comes out of his throat is dark – maybe even sinister. His eyes narrow at her and he inches himself closer until their noses are almost touching.

“My worst, sweetheart? You’re gonna regret that. Almost feel sorry for your fuckin’ throat.” He uses his grip on her neck to push her down, dropping her hard onto her knees as she looks up at him with hooded lids. Releasing her throat, he runs his hand through her hair before fisting it in the locks tied up at the crown of her head. He uses the leverage to yank her head backward at an uncomfortable angle that throws her off balance – she’d fall right over if he let go right now.

A wicked smirk comes over his face as he reaches down with his free hand and unbuckles his belt, then his pants, pulling out his already hard, leaking cock. Her eyes widen just slightly, always a bit shocked by the size of it, and he uses the grip in her hair to inch her mouth closer to the tip.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart. Couldn’t keep it closed a minute ago.” He pushes the tip just past her lips and she lets her jaw drop, taking him in as his width stretches the muscles in her jaw.

He’s not kind about it – he slams her head down onto his cock so hard she’s sputtering and gagging at the bottom end, no chance to adjust to his size. The hair in his hand becomes the reins he uses to rock himself into her at a violent pace. Her hands instinctively rest at his thighs, nails biting into the jean-clad flesh as she gags and chokes at every thrust. He pulls her off him and watches as her saliva remains in strands – connecting her to him even while she isn’t touching, running down her chin like she just bathed in it. Her breath comes out in pants, trying to catch it before he makes his next move.

This was what he was aching for, he just didn’t know it until he had it in his hands. Needed to see her this fucking wrecked because of him, messy and broken. He’d break her more tonight – this was just a crack in the outer shell. Letting out a quick puff of air, his smile is sinister when he offers her his next command.

“Deep fuckin’ breath, darlin’.”

He watched her take a few short breaths and then a particularly large one. At the top end of it, when he could see that her chest cavity was full, he forced her mouth back down onto him as far as she can go, holding it tight to his pelvis so she couldn’t move.

“20 seconds, now.”

The nickname sears her as she blinks back the salty tears that start to fall without her permission. Her nose is buried in his pubic hair and the cock in her throat is so deep she can’t swallow, can’t even gag, really, and definitely can’t breathe. She has no other choice but to hold her breath while she’s locked onto his cock like this. Her grip on his thighs increases as the tears in her eyes start streaming more steadily.

And then, finally, he starts counting.

“1… 2… 3…” His grip on her hair is legitimately bruising – skin stretched over her skull to the point of pain. It’s like he’s ripping the back of her skull off while simultaneously pushing her down and it makes the gears spin in her brain faster than she can process them.

“6… 7… 8…” She looks up to him and his eyes are locked on hers. If she could form a coherent thought in her brain right now beyond breathe, breathe, breathe, she’d realize he was watching her closely – the way she flinches, how her throat spasms around him, the twitching of her body as she struggled for oxygen he so expertly deprived her of.

“12… 13… 14…” He’s not rocking his hips into her mouth, luckily – at least not yet. He’s just holding steady, actively pushing in with his hips and his hand in such a way that it made it impossible for her to get any semblance of relief.

“18… 19… 20.” He yanks her head back from his cock and she sputters around him, gagging as he finally pulls himself from her throat. Her muscles spasm and contract from the abuse, breath shaky and panicked. Coughing, her lungs burn as they fill back up with air, and she’s not sure what’s saliva and what’s saline tears on her face anymore.

“Another one, darlin’. Breathe.” Joel watches closely while the muscles of her neck expand and contract, waiting to see that big breath he needed her to take. At the peak of it, he pulled her hard onto his cock again, burying her nose into his pelvis bone, even a fraction deeper this time, and starts to count.

“1… 2… 3…” She was just so damn pretty with so many tears rolling down her face - eyelashes clumped together, face a shiny mess of bodily fluids. He watched the way her eyes were getting redder as the tears came more freely this second round, enraptured by the way they turned bloodshot, illuminated by the warm glow of the campfire.

It was just so lovely.

“9… 10… 11… 12…” This time, he started rocking his hips now, pushing a bit deeper where he could. Strategically, he thrusted only about an inch at a time – still deep enough to cut off her airway completely but giving him the satisfaction of fucking into her throat at the same time.

“18… 19… 20.” In truth? This was like watching a star explode around his cock - this usually powerful, dominant, no-fucks-to-give woman with a penchant for violence and decimation everywhere she went reduced to rubble in his hands, putty on his cock. He ripped her head back off of him once more and groaned at the way she sputtered out immediately, coughing as tendrils of saliva broken splashed back and forth onto his dick from her mouth, chin, and neck.

“Breathe, darlin’. So fucking beautiful for me. You’re such a fuckin’ whore, so wrecked on this cock.” She caught her breath, a panicked look in her bloodshot eyes as she met his again, holding a hand to her throat. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, ‘m not gonna make you do that again.” He squeezed her jaw tight in one hand, letting go of her hair with the other. Fingers dug into her cheeks, he could feel her teeth through the thick flesh as he pinched her cheeks together, as her hands scrambled up to cling to his wrist, pleading for him to stop, to keep going, to move faster, for something. She didn’t even know what.

“You did alright. Gonna make you count to 30 for me next time, though.” He steps up toward her and spits on her face, her eyes and mouth wide open as his saliva makes contact and mixes with her own. He rubs it in roughly with his free hand and pushes her away. Off balance, she falls back onto her heels, and she turns over onto her hands and knees as she continues to heave and cough, spitting on the ground below. He crouches over her again, his chest now inches frond her back, and he whispers darkly.

“Gonna fuck you like the whore you are, now.”

A shaky breath catches in her throat as she composes herself before lifting her head and turning it back to him, meeting his eyes while still trying to heave breaths back into her lungs. She smiles wickedly, teeth bared. That glint is in her eye that gets him every time.

“Do your fuckin’ worst, Joel."

#joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #dubcon #writing #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #the last of us fanfiction #no beta we die like men

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