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themadlostgirl · 3 years ago

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Ruined

*Happy New Year ya filthy animals! This is what I am ending 2021 on. It could have been fluff or a funny platonic one shot but no. We are ending it on this. I’m not even surprised. I am quite serious when I say I spent all day writing this and all because of one ask in my inbox suggested it and I had to see if I could write it. And I did. And it is long.

I really mean that. It is LONG. This is the longest one shot I have written ever. And it is just all smut. It is 17 pages worth of smut. It is raunchy. It is filthy. It is also some of the best sex I have ever written in my personal opinion.

This is your final warning before you click it. HEAVY MESSY THREESOME SMUT AHEAD! If you still choose to read that’s on you. Enjoy! Let’s hope 2022 is a little better.*

Prompt: Peter x Felix x Reader

~~~

It had started as any other kind of day. You woke up, washed your face, got something to eat, sharpened your dagger, and went about your day doing whatever it is you wanted. There was nothing new or strange or particularly exciting. The island felt a little more humid than normal but that was pretty much it.

You walked through the jungle flicking your dagger into the air and catching it again. The boys were out at the beach today terrorizing seagulls and seeing if they an catch fish with their bare hands. You decided to take the time alone and delved deeper into the jungle into the dark recesses that no one ever entered. It was a good place to whisper secrets to the trees to lessen your own burdens. These creaking boughs knew more about you than anyone on the island did. All your heartaches. All your regrets. Your memories, dreams, vengeful thoughts…your desires.

That was the real reason you didn’t join the boys today. Cause you knew who else would be there and you didn’t want to stand choked and terrified at the image of them stepping out of the ocean drenched and perfectly delicious. Now that the image was in your mind though it wouldn’t leave.

It may not be as bad if it was just one person. But no. For months or maybe even years now you had suffered with this damn annoying attraction to two of Neverland’s residents. Your fellow Lost One, Felix, and your leader, Peter Pan. They did something stupid one day like slice the neck of a pirate or break a log in two with just their hands and you felt your body light up like a bonfire. They were both frustratingly attractive in different ways. Felix was tall and had a myriad of scars and this crooked grin that you rarely saw with teeth that looked a little too sharp to be normal. Peter was all strong yet lithe muscle and a cool calculating gaze that made you feel like he could read your very thoughts. Cocky tricksters and malevolent bastards is what they were. And you wanted to devour them.

At first you thought it was just a passing fancy. A little schoolgirl’s crush that would last for a week and be gone the next. But the feelings didn’t go away. The curling heat in your belly that spread between your legs only grew and grew until you finally cracked and let yourself indulge in the fantasies your mind presented you.

Images of Peter below you with his hands tied above his head. Fantasies of Felix taking you hard against the rough bark of a tree. The one that you always came back to though featured neither one or the other but both. You on your hands and knees of the jungle floor. Their taunting smirks staring down at you and eyes glazed over with lust. The taste of one of them on your tongue, filling your mouth while the other takes you hard from behind. It didn’t which was where, just as long as both were in you.

You found the spot you normally came to sit and let these fantasies play out. The ground was soft with moss and you were hidden by the branches of the trees. Specks of light poking through so you were not cast into total darkness. That was another fantasy. The both of them in the dark, unable to make out who was who or where they were before they pounced on you like predators hunting their prey.

You wiggled the pants you were wearing off and closed your eyes. The familiar touches to your favorite places as images of Peter and Felix took over your imagination. In your min you are stretched out on one of the large flat rocks by the ocean without a strip of clothes on basking in the heat of the sun. It’s so hot and you need to cool down. You crawl to the edge of the rock and reach down to splash some of the cool water on your face when a hand comes out of the dark of the ocean and pulls you in.

Peter’s mouth is crushed to yours the next instant, the both of you under the waves but you don’t need to breathe. The water around you feels like it is boiling when he slips his cock into. The waves crash upon the shore bringing you and Peter with them with his cock still wedged in you. You bounce on his lap chasing your own pleasure as the waves continue to crash on the both of you. Cooling you down while the temperature inside you grows. Felix is resting further away from the waves and you go faster with the knowledge he is watching you. When you finally cum you shudder and roll off Peter only to find Felix above you now and hauling you roughly onto your knees before shoving his cock down your throat. Peter crawls between your legs and kisses your already sensitive cunt, working you up with his tongue until you fall apart once again.

Your breathing goes ragged and you blink and open your eyes. You are still in the jungle by yourself and the evidence of your arousal and climax glistens on your fingers. “I want them both,” you whisper with a small sigh as you clean yourself up and wash your arousal off your hand. The desire inside has been quenched for another day and you start your journey back to camp.

You are back a few days later, hastening to your private spot. There is rain pouring down on the island as thunder shakes the air and lightning streaks the sky. You had been having a rather naughty dream when the boom of thunder woke you up. Your body was wound tight from the dream and trying to ignore it wasn’t working. You tried to take care of it in the privacy of your tent but your paranoia that someone would hear you despite the rain and thunder kept you from slaking your needs. So you grabbed your cloak, threw up the hood, and hustled as far from camp as you could get as fast as you could. It was a little harder traversing the jungle in this rain and in the dark of the sunless sky. Your foot hit a slick patch of earth and you slipped down a hill. Now you were lost. Whatever. You were away from camp and you doubted that anyone would be coming out in this weather.

You braced one hand against a tree while the other slipped past the waistband of your pants and circled your clit. You wouldn’t last long, that much you knew when you set out for here. “Ha…ha…ngh!” you gasped, your fingernails digging into the tree bark, “Fe--oh fuck--Fe…”

“Felix!” your eyes snapped open. That wasn’t your breathy wanton moan.

You strained to hear more and could hear some rustling coming from somewhere close. Who was out here in this weather? Had they heard you? The thought filled you with embarrassed dread as you headed closer to the noise. Not some couple yards from where you had been slaking your own needs you saw a pair doing just the same.

You hid behind a tree as you watched the two forms rock against each other in the pouring rain. It was Peter and Felix. Both stark naked and writhing on the jungle floor. Peter was on top rutting against Felix, one hand closed around his throat and brow furrowed in concentration. Felix was below him legs wide and meeting Peter’s thrust greedily, eyes closed in rapture.

This was not something you were supposed to see. No one was supposed to see it. That’s why you guessed Peter called down this storm. To keep everyone in their tents back at camp so they could meet out here without anyone knowing. You knew you should have turned away and ran. If you were caught then there was no doubt they would both kill you. But this was far from something you wanted to miss. Both of the boys you had lusted drenched and fucking in the rain.

The ache between your legs grew at the sight. Well, you had come out here for a reason just like them. Might as well take care of it while you had such a pleasant visual. Making sure you were still well hidden behind the tree you began touching yourself again, matching the pace the boys were going at. There was nothing tender about the way they moved. It was almost angry and animalistic. How badly you wanted to slip in between them. You realized you were getting a bit loud and covered your mouth with your free hand.

“Peter…Peter!” Felix gasped past the pressure of Peter’s hand on his throat.

“Not yet,” Peter growled, increasing the pressure around Felix’s throat. “Almost there,”

So were you. Oh gods, you were so painstakingly close. The fast, rhythmic cadence they had been in got faster and clumsier as their climaxes got closer. Any second now. So close!

“Fuck! Felix!” Peter roared.

Felix was only able to return a long guttural moan. You could see white spurts spray from his cock and cover his abdomen. Peter pulled out of Felix and licked up the drops of cum before they could be washed off in the rain. You bit down hard on your fist as you came. This is a memory you knew for certain you were going to be revisiting many times in the future. Sooner than you thought since your legs were still shaking and the fire coiling inside you still burned like an inferno. You were going to go back to your normal spot deeper in the jungle and masturbate until your fingers bled.

You backed away from the scene and promptly slipped on a moss covered rock, crashing to the ground. Fuck!

All at once the rain stopped. You froze, stuck in your spot on the ground. They heard you. They had to have. The crunching of footsteps got louder and you nervously peeked over your shoulder. Peter was dressed now and glaring at you with all the loathing in the world.

“What are you doing out here?” he demanded.

“I--I--” you clambered back, terrified that this was how you were going to die. At least you were going to go out having had an amazing orgasm moments earlier.

“Did you see?” Peter lifted you up by your shirt, “Did you!”

You nodded, knowing it was pointless to try lying. You grasped at his arm, trying to find some stability. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was--”

Peter sniffed. His gaze landing on your hands holding his arm. One fist still bunched in your shirt he grabbed hold of your hand and pried it off him, studying it closer. It was with mortification you realized that you hadn’t had the chance to wipe the arousal on your fingers off and it was still stuck to you.

“Oh Lost Girl,” he chuckled darkly, “You “didn’t mean to” you say? Cause this looks like you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I wasn’t--” you cut yourself off with a squeak as Peter licked one of your fingers clean. He kept a firm grip on you as he tugged you into the clearing with him and Felix. What was happening and why was it getting you wet? Felix was sat on the ground, his pants pulled on now and watching you and Peter with growing interest.

“Our voyeuristic Lost Girl found us,” Peter tossed you next to Felix, “Look at her hand,”

Felix quirked up an eyebrow at the scene playing out before him but did as he was told and grabbed your hand. One of your fingers still coated in your arousal. Felix’s face split into that rarely seen crooked grin of his. “I see,” he chuckled, “Does she taste sweet?” he sucked on your finger and your body shuddered. “She does.”

“Sweeter than you taste at least,” Peter said.

“Harsh,” Felix glared at him, “Like your seed tastes any better.”

“The question now is,” Peter knelt by you and Felix, running his hands up and down your sides, “What should we do with her?”

“I can think of a good many things we can do with her,” Felix said, pinching your face in his hand, “That is if you want us to do anything to you, Lost Girl.”

“That is true,” Peter sighed, “As delectable as it would be doing all manner of things to you in this clearing, we won’t do anything against your consent. You can keep watching if that’s all you want, so long as we get to watch what you do too.”

This was happening. By the gods you loved this island!

“What…” you cleared your throat, excitement already coursing through you, replacing the cold dread that had been there moments earlier, “What do you want to do with me?”

The boys both broke into similar devil may care smiles. “I thought it fairly obvious,” Peter breathed in your ear, “We want to ruin you.”

You swallowed hard, your body trembling as their hands wandered all along you. “Please,” your hushed whisper was all the more they needed. The cloak around your shoulders was whipped off you in the next instant. Felix pulled your face close and kissed you hungrily, your teeth clattering together as he forced his tongue past your lips. You opened your mouth to him, tasting him deeply.

You felt the cool press of steel near your back and before you could question why Peter had a dagger at you back the ripping sound of fabric gave you your answer. You pulled back from Felix just long enough for the material of your shirt to fall away from you, leaving you topless in the clearing.

“She’s so soft,” Felix said, grasping at your breasts in his calloused hands. Your back arched as you pushed your chest closer into his touch.

Peter turned your head and kissed you while Felix fondled your breasts. Peter tasted salty and you realized with a giddy jolt that it was because he still had the taste of Felix’s cum on his tongue. You pushed your tongue into his mouth desperate to taste more.

“Eager too,” Peter bit down on your shoulder making you cry out, your hips uselessly trying to grind against air.

“We shouldn’t keep her waiting then,” Felix pulled you over so you were straddled over his knee. “Go on,”

You smiled wide as you ground against Felix’s knee. The friction was delicious but not enough. Peter had disappeared from behind you leaving you cold. You craned your neck to see where he went and saw him removing his shirt once more. He was pressed against you the moment it was gone, gripping handfuls of your ass through your pants. You wanted them off.

Felix sucked on your chest, laving one of your nipples with his tongue while pinching and tugging on the other. “Fuck!” You ground against his knee harder, your juices leaking out and seeping through your pants to stain his knee.

“You made a mess, Lost Girl,” Peter pulled you off Felix’s knee. “We’ve barely even begun, are you that turned on?”

You nodded.

“Words, precious,” Felix said hands reaching for the waistband of your pants. “Use your words.”

“I am!” you pleaded with Felix to take your pants off already, “Please, I want more.”

Then just to frustrate you he let go of the waistband of your pants and started tugging off your boots.

“There’s a question we need you to answer before we give you more,” Peter reached around to fondle your breasts this time. “Who gets to go first, pet?”

“First?” you whimpered, your mind in a haze.

“Who do you want to be your first?” to emphasize what he meant he ground his erection against your ass.

Gods, you didn’t know! You wanted both of them. You didn’t care who was first, just so long as you could have both at one point.

“I think we may need to decide for her,”

“You can take her first,” Felix said, “You are the leader after all and you have more stamina,”

“But maybe she’d like you better, your cock is bigger.” Peter continued to grind against your ass.

“Oh no, you can be the first to fuck her cunt. I get to fuck that pretty mouth of hers first though.”

“Sounds fair,” Peter pushed you away from him. He started to shuck his pants down and your tongue came out to wet your lips as you stared desperately at his rock hard cock. “What are you waiting for?” he snapped, “Pants. Off. Now.”

You didn’t waste another second and quickly pulled off your pants. Now that you were completely naked it started to seriously set in. All your fantasies, all those dreams about having sex with both Peter and Felix were about to come true. Your legs spread without shame, beckoning Peter to come take you.

“You’re positively soaked,” Peter brought a hand to your cunt, circling your clit like a tease.

“Peter, please!” you begged, your voice hysterical with need.

“In due time,” he assured you. He pulled you onto his lap, his hand between your legs and facing Felix. He had taken off his pants too and you watched as he stroked himself. “Don’t be shy, show him whats ours.”

You kept your legs spread wide as Peter inserted a finger into your tight cunt. He pumped it slowly, curling it to draw out every heavenly sigh and moan from your body before adding another. His fingers scissored your pussy, stretching it open and getting it ready for him. All the while Felix continued to watch, the pace he was stroking himself the same as Peter’s fingers in your cunt. A drop of precum dribbled from the tip of his cock and you whined, wanting to taste it. Peter seemed to notice what made your pussy clamp down tighter around his fingers and he chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back.

“You’re gonna make me jealous, pet,” he whispered in your ear, “Remember whose cock is about to fuck you. He’ll get his turn but right now, you’re mine.”

“Yes,” you nodded furiously, “I’m sorry,”

“No need to apologize,” you could feel the heat of his cock sliding against your slick folds, “It is hard to take your eyes off that absolute monster between his legs.”

A part of you did wonder how long Peter and Felix had been sleeping together but it was forgotten entirely when you felt the tip of Peter’s cock tease your weeping hole. You ground back against him, trying to force it in.

“None of that,” he flipped you over so you were facing him. He laid you back against the ground. “Eyes on me, pet.” He continued to tease you, sliding his cock along your folds till he was covered in your arousal.

“Please!” you begged, nearing your limit. “Please, Peter! Please! I need it!”

“Need what?” he said, teasing your entrance again, “Say it, pet.”

“Your cock! Please! I need your cock!” you shouted, “Please! I’m begging you to fuck me! Please fuck me! Stuff me full of your cock!”

“Good girl,” he thrust into you all at once and you almost came just from that. “Wow, even after all that you’re still so fucking tight.”

“Feels good…” you murmured, grasping onto his shoulders. This was a lot more satisfying than your own fingers.

“Hang onto me, pet,” he muttered, “Like Felix said, I got a lot of stamina so this may take a while.”

He pulled out till just the tip was still inside before slamming back down, seating himself up to the hilt. “Fuck!” you screamed, your legs wrapping around him and digging into his ass.

“Oh yeah, pet,” he picked up the pace, “Scream for me.”

So you did. You moaned and mewled and shouted his name until your throat went raw. Peter’s pace was fast and punishing and you couldn’t control yourself before you came all over his cock the first time. He was undeterred by your orgasm and kept going, drawing out your pleasure even longer before it started stoking it up once again. You were going to end up cumming again and Peter didn’t even look close to done. Fuck, he really did have a lot of stamina.

“Peter,” you raked your nails down his back, “Peter please,” your legs were starting to cramp up and shake, “Cum for me. Please. I want to feel you cum.”

“Gods,” he grabbed your hips, pulling them up off the ground and forcing them to meet his thrusts harder than before. It hurt and yet it felt amazing. “Touch yourself, pet. Cum with me.”

You did as he said and circled your clit while he pounded your poor abused pussy. Almost. Almost!

“Cumming,” he forced out through gritted teeth, “I’m cumming!”

“Yes! Yes! Gods yes!” you yelled as you felt him empty himself inside you, your own orgasm hitting you at the same time.

He stayed wedged in you for a few minutes, unwilling to take you off his softening cock just yet. You could feel the warm spurts of his cum leaking out of your cunt when he finally rolled off you. Your body was sore and you were completely debauched but you never felt better.

“By the gods, did you kill her?” you were faintly aware of Felix’s voice somewhere near you, “She’s not moving.”

“She’s just a little tired,” a hand rubbed across your back, “It’s been an energetic afternoon so far.”

So far. You were far from done despite the pleasant ache in your muscles and bones and that alone had you ready for another round. You took a few deep breaths and relaxed before attempting to sit up. Your body was trembling.

“Well,” Felix helped you to stay up straight, “I was going to take my turn fucking her but seeing the state you’ve left her in I can’t resist. I have to have a taste.”

“By all means,” Peter summoned a canteen of water and took a large swig, “Pet?”

You nodded, unable to use your voice. Peter tilted the canteen to your lips letting you have a few big gulps. The cool water helped to soothe your sore throat. “I’m good,”

“You sure?” the boys asked.

“Yes,” you turned to Peter and kissed him, “That felt amazing. Thank you.”

“Any time, pet,” he turned you back around, “Felix, have at her. I’m going to put up some wards to make sure no one else comes to bother us.”

Felix held out a hand for you, “Come here, precious, I want a taste of those lips,” you clambered into his lap, kissing him hard.

He pulled back with a wicked grin. “Wonderful, but not the lips I was speaking of.” Your face flushed and a new wave of wetness started to trickle down your thighs. Or maybe that was Peter’s cum. It was hard to tell.

Speaking of, “Did you want to? I mean Peter did just kind of--” you were cut off as Felix shoved you to the ground.

“I’m sure,” he kissed you once more, “Hold your thighs. Let me see.”

You spread your legs for him, your nails biting into your thighs as you held them apart. “Beautiful,” he kept his eyes one you as he lowered to kiss your cunt. You sighed in ecstasy as his tongue swiped across your clit. He continued to tease your clit until you could feel the sticky mixture of Peter’s cum and your own arousal sliding down your ass. Never taking his eyes off you, he licked a straight line up your folds. You shuddered. He smirked before taking to the task in earnest.

His tongue continued to plunder your cunt and when he came up for a breath you noticed the smear of white on his chin. Was he eating Peter’s cum out of your cunt? Oh gods…maybe this was too much for you. Felix went back to eating you out and your breathy moans turned into hearty pleas. His tongue felt divine but you needed more. “Felix, please!” you begged, nails digging harder into your thighs, “It’s your turn. Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“I am fucking you,” he responded, circling your clit with his tongue once more.

“Fuck me with your cock!” you whined, “Please! Peter said you were huge. I want to feel it. I want you to split me in two. Please!”

“Dirty, naughty girl,” Felix laughed, “Peter, you hearing this?”

“I hear her. Come now, Felix, you cleaned all my cum out of her, give her what she wants now.”

“Fine, fine,” Felix said, leaving the space between your legs. “I think that’s my new favorite way to taste your cum. The mix is a very interesting flavor.”

“I’ll have to get a taste after you’re done with her.”

They were going to do that again? Good.

You expected Felix to take you while you were lying down but to your surprise he pulled you up so you were straddling his lap and he was laying back. “Go on,” he ran his hands up and down your thighs, “You wanted it. Now put it in. Slowly. I want to get a good look of this.”

With one hand you grasped Felix’s cock, pumping him a few times and lining him up with your hole. You were already sensitive and spent and there was a twinge of pain when you inserted it but you could hardly care. Peter wasn’t kidding about him being bigger. You angled your body back to give Felix a good view as you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock inch by inch until he was fully seated inside you.

“I can feel you all the way up here,” you placed a hand over your abdomen, “Fuck. I think you’re actually going to split me apart.”

“Peter’s remained intact, I’m sure you will.” Felix winked.

“She is smaller though, more petite and not as used to your cock as me.” you spotted Peter on the sideline watching you two with interest, his cock was hard but it was almost like he didn’t notice. “Maybe go easy on her,”

“Please don’t,” You turned Felix’s face back to you, “Fuck me with everything you got.”

A hand came down hard on your ass and you pitched forward with the force of it. It stung. You loved it.

“So greedy,” Felix tsked, “Fuck yourself on my cock and if I feel like helping you I will. Now get moving.”

You nodded and lifted yourself off of Felix’s hips before falling back down against his cock. You did that for a few more minutes before your legs began to give out and you began more shallow thrusts. The head of his cock was hitting an especially sensitive spot inside you and you chased after it. You completely forgot that this wasn’t just about your pleasure for a minute and got a sharp reminder when another slap came down on your ass.

“Peter may have been content letting you orgasm whenever but not me,” he said, “You’re only going to cum when I say you can. If you cum before I say so then you’re gonna get punished. Okay?”

“I understand,” you took a deep breath, the edge you had almost flown over now farther away. You went back to your bigger thrusts. Felix kept you angled back so that he could watch his cock slide in and out of you. The angle was uncomfortable but you wanted him to feel good. And if he liked seeing you fuck yourself on his cock like this then you’d fight through the trembling of your legs and keep going till they broke off.

Felix had to remind you two more times to not cum. Each brought about with a harsh spank to your rear. You weren’t going to be able to sit right for a week after this. When Felix finally did grant you mercy it was because he was also starting to lose control.

His hips snapped up to meet yours, forcing you down harder onto his cock. You yelped in surprise. His cock jabbing that sweet spot inside you once more. “Felix! Felix!” you were practically sobbing from how badly you needed to cum, “Please! Please let me! I’ll do anything. Please!”

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, then without breaking pace he rolled you over so he was on top, pinned your arms above your head and fucked you so hard your entire body rocked with the force of his thrusts. “You wanted to cum, so cum already.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” you shouted as you hit your climax. Your body crackled and shook like you had gotten hit with a lightning bolt. Tears were leaking out of your eyes and your body buzzed with sensitivity. When Felix came it forced another orgasm out of you right after the last. Every single touch felt too sensitive, like you would violently orgasm again if someone brushed a hand down your back.

“Good lord,” Peter’s voice was somewhere distant or maybe it just sounded that way thanks to the post violent fucking you just took, “You talk about the state I left her in then you leave her like this? I think you may have actually killed her.”

“She told me to fuck her with everything I had, she reaps what she sows.” Felix said.

You were faintly aware of being cradled in someone’s arms. Hushed words and soothing touches that helped ease you down from the intense high you had been floating in. The shaking in your limbs stopped and your tears dried. Someone brought the lip of the canteen to your mouth and you took a few sips. Gentle words coaxing you into peace. “That’s it, precious, deep breaths. Take it slow.”

“Felt so good…” your voice was slurred, “So good…”

“I think we’ve worn her out plenty today,” one of them said, “Pick this up again later.”

“No,” you reached for them, “Please. Want to keep going.”

This afternoon had been wonderful so far but you weren’t stopping until you finally fulfilled your dream of having both of them at the same time.

“She wants us at the same time,” the chest holding you chuckled.

“Did I say that out loud?” you muttered, opening your eyes to look at them.

“Who are we to deny what our pet wants?” Peter smoothed the hair from your face, “If you’re ready, we’ll keeping going, pet.”

You nodded. “I’m ready.”

Peter kissed you. “Brave girl,” he tsked as he pulled away, “Still weak though, Felix, do you mind holding her legs open while I get a taste of her?”

“Sure,” Felix eased you around. Your already sore legs were spread once more baring you to Peter. His head dove between your legs licking up the mess of your juices and Felix’s cum. You noticed there was a hint of blood there too. Felix must have torn something when he was fucking you. He really had tried to split you in two.

You had lost count of how many times you had achieved orgasm today but given how many times Peter was intent on making you cum on his tongue you were sure you had hit double digits by this point. Just to make sure you didn’t try anything to try and escape Peter conjured a length of rope and tied your hands behind your back. You were basically trapped and at his mercy with Felix keeping your legs open for him. You loved it.

At some point after yet another orgasm had been ripped from your body Peter climbed back up your body, leaned past you and kissed Felix. You were stuck between them as the content groans of their makeout filled your ears.

“I’m really glad you convinced me to come out here,” Felix said with a breathy moan, “Or else we may have missed out on this.”

“When are you going to realize that all my ideas are good ideas, Felix?” Peter scoffed. “Now,” he turned back to you, “I think it is time we absolutely ruin you, my pet.”

“You haven’t already?” a slightly hysterical laugh escaped your throat.

“Far from it,” Felix said, grabbing a handful of your ass, “You said you wanted both of us at the same time. We have yet to grant that wish.”

“Let’s see,” Peter ticked them off on his fingers, “We both got to impale her on our cocks, we both got to eat her delectable little pussy, now we just need to fuck that pretty little mouth of hers. Neither of us has taking her taut ass yet but that takes a little more care.”

“I get to go first,” Felix said, “Remember. You took her virginity, I get her mouth.”

“Yes yes, I know,” Peter waved it off, “Good luck to the poor thing, you have no control when it comes to blowjobs.”

“As if you’re any better?” Felix laughed.

“At least you don’t have to worry so much about choking on me like I have to worry about you.” Peter said. “You’re so good and obedient when I’m the one fucking you but the moment I give you any control, bam, you turn into a wild animal.”

“You love it.”

“I’d love it if you let me suck your cock now.” as interesting as this banter was you really just wanted to feel Felix plunder your mouth already. Your hands were still tied behind your back and Peter undid the knot.

“Who knew our Lost Girl was such a wanton whore,” Felix growled, “Since I went a little wild with your cunt I’ll take it a little easier on your mouth.” he laid back, “Come suck my cock, precious. Be good.”

You wet your lips. It seemed straightforward but you were still shaking as you took his cock in your hand. You pumped him a couple times, gauging his reaction to your ministrations. He liked it when you squeezed him hard and moved slowly from the base to the tip. He looked ready to pin you down and force his cock into your mouth when you fondled his balls, a whispered hint given to you by Peter. When he was hard and ready and drips of precum started to ooze from the tip you took him into your mouth. Slowly at first. You let your tongue swirl around the head of his cock as you got a taste for him. You licked a stripe down the center of his length alone a protruding vein that had him gripping your hair tighter.

Then, you took deeper sliding as much of his cock into your mouth that you could. You started to gag the further you got and had to jump off him for a moment to make sure you didn’t puke.

“Keep your tongue flat, relax your throat, breathe through your nose,” Peter instructed, “You can take it, just go slow. Felix, go easy on her until she gets it.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes but crossed his arms behind his head. You kind of missed the feel of his hand in your hair but figured that if you did a good enough job it would be back forcing you down onto his cock in no time. You took a deep breath and did as Peter instructed. You kept your tongue flat and relaxed your throat. This time when you bobbed down on him you were able to take every last glorious inch until you could feel it hitting the back of your throat. You breathed in through your nose and moaned around his cock.

You could feel his cock twitch inside your mouth. Oh. He definitely liked that. For a bit you just sat there with the solid weight of his cock on your tongue, savoring the flavor and humming your joy. You opened your eyes to see how Felix was doing. His pupils were blown wide and you could tell he was doing whatever he could in his power not to fuck your throat like a wild thing right now. You appreciated the restraint. When you felt you were ready you started bobbing your head up and down and sucked him hard. It got easier the longer you went.

“Looks like she’s going to be at this for a while,” Peter sighed, “Felix, sit up,”

You had to adjust your angle for a moment as Felix sat up. You felt a shadow over you and glanced up to see Peter standing over your body. He grabbed a fistful of Felix’s hair in one hand and his cock in the other. “No reason you should be the only one getting sucked off right now.”

No fair. You wanted to pout as Peter slipped his cock into Felix’s mouth. You were the one that wanted both of them at the same time. It was hard to see them at this angle, a fact that you cursed. You could hear them plenty though. While you took your time with Felix you could tell Peter was not wasting time with him. The slap of skin against skin resounded above you as well as Peter’s groans and moans of pleasure.

You began sucking Felix harder. His hips began to buck into your mouth. You could feel the muscles in his legs tightening. He was gonna cum soon. Both of them were. And only one was going to be spilled in you. You pushed the thought away and brought one of your hands to fondle Felix’s balls.

“Fuck! Watch the teeth!” Peter said, “I’m almost there.”

So were you. Your free hand trailed down your stomach and began swiping at your clit. One of Felix’s hands fisted your hair again forcing your head to keep down on him as he fucked your throat with shallow thrusts. More tears leaked from your eyes and you swiped at your clit faster.

“Fuck…fuck…Felix!” you heard Peter shout. Felix’s muffled moan reached your ears just as he came inside your mouth as well. You swallowed all that you could and licked his dick clean after he was done cumming. Unfortunately you hadn’t reached your peak while sucking him off and you were shaking slightly as your unsatisfied body mourned the experience of not cumming with the rest of them.

“What’s wrong with her?” Peter asked as he gazed down at you and your small frown.

Felix wiped a bit of cum that was smeared against his lips away and grabbed hold of you, holding up your hand. “I think she’s pouting cause she didn’t get to cum.”

“Out of the many orgasms we have granted you today, you are going to pout over missing out on one? Such a greedy, entitled little pet you are.”

“I’m not--”

“Don’t bother lying,” Peter said, “On your knees. I’m starting to get winded and we still have our promise to uphold.”

“Your turn for her throat,” Felix said, walking behind you, “She’s pretty good at sucking cock for a beginner.”

“Nice to hear,” Peter pushed the hair from your face, “Cause now that you know what to do I’m not going to go easy on you like Felix did.” He kissed you fiercely.

You could feel Felix behind you trailing kisses down your back. One of them was squeezing your breasts but you couldn’t tell whose hands were whose at this point. Felix bent you forward so your hands were on all fours. Peter was knelt in front of you, his cock achingly close to your face. It was still wet from Felix’s mouth as he traced the tip over your face and across your lips, smearing his precum all over you. It was filthy and humiliating. You were the picture of debauchery and you absolutely loved every second of it.

Felix for his part was teasing your cunt with his cock, just barely entering you before pulling away again and rubbing the head across your clit. Your legs were sore, your cunt was stretched and aching, your throat was raw from blowing Felix and screaming your moans for the past several hours. You weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hold on. But you did know that they were about to spear you like a pig on a spitroast and you wanted that more than rest. So you opened your mouth wide for Peter and spread your legs wider for Felix.

“Ruin me,” you pleaded.

Without another word you felt Felix ram his cock into you at the same time Peter shoved his way into your mouth. Oh gods. This is what you wanted. This is what you had been fantasizing about for years. It was even better than you had imagined.

Peter wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t going to go easy on you. He fucked your throat without mercy, the head of his cock jabbing the back of your throat. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock tickled your nose and his balls slapped against your chin as he took his pleasure from you. You remembered to keep breathing through your nose as you stared up at him.

Although it was hard to concentrate with Felix behind you absolutely pounding your cunt with wild abandon. Your pussy clamped down onto him hard. Somehow it felt like he was reaching even deeper inside you than before. Each thrust pitched you forward unwillingly bobbing your head down on Peter’s cock when he pulled back. They were grunting like animals. There were no moans or kind words or soft touches. It was all heat and pure carnal instinct.

Harder

Faster

Rougher

You pleaded in your mind moaning around Peter’s cock and bucking your ass back against Felix. More. You needed more.

“Shit,” Felix hissed, the first real word you had heard him say since he started fucking you. “Ugh, I’m about to cum!”

“Me too,” Peter gasped, twisting your hair tighter in his hands. “I think our pet here is close too.”

“Oh she definitely is,” Felix slapped a hand across your ass making you whine. “And she’s gonna be good and take everything we give her, right precious?”

“Every. Last. Drop.” Peter said, emphasizing his words with every sharp thrust.

Felix reached around you and began furiously swiping at your clit. You moaned loudly around Peter’s cock. You were starting to lose coherency. Too many sensations all at once. It was driving you insane. You swore you could see stars dancing in front of your eyes.

With twin roars the boys came and pumped you full. Your body spasmed as you reached a high you didn’t even think possible. Your body felt not your own. Like it was down on earth but your soul was flying away far from it. When you came back to your senses you were sandwiched between Felix and Peter. They were petting you and rubbing your shoulders and whispering words of comfort.

“You did so well, pet,” Peter praised, “You were perfect.”

“So precious,” Felix whispered into your hair, “Gonna have a hard time sitting down for a while.”

“She’s gonna have a hard time walking too.”

“I’m having a hard time even trying to sit up,” you told them, your voice hoarse from the abuse your throat got put through. “Water?”

“Here pet,” Peter handed you the canteen.

Felix was rubbing something on your stinging ass. It felt cool against the blistering blossoming of bruises. “Aloe,” he told you. He turned your head to his and kissed you softly. “Jaw okay?”

“Yeah,” it was a little sore but not so bad that you needed help. “That was…intense.”

“Do you regret it?” Peter asked.

You kissed him quick with a smile. “Hell no, all I can think of right now is when we can do that again.”

Peter chuckled and Felix laughed. “Oh pet,” he said, that wicked gleam in his eye that thrilled you straight to your core, “I think we truly have ruined you.”

You smile. The many fantasies you had stored up over many years playing out in your head like a catalog. “Good.”

#i need to rinse myself in holy water #aftercare and enthusiastic consent are important #peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #felix ouat #peter pan imagine #panlix #peter x felix x reader #smut

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immaculatetfs · 3 years ago

Text

The Orc King

A bit of a longer one :P sorry for inactivity!

(Also couldn't find any clothing appropriate images so just imagine that Pate has clothes on <3)

The crisp evening air gave way to a thick smokey haze as Hal entered the 'Pigs. It was the tavern he frequented most often throughout his short career as an adventurer, and he always coming back following a hard day of questing. There were always people around, he recalled, adventurers, magicians and thieves and the like, but around now was when it was busiest. The air was filled with loud drunken chatter and the dull thunks of a tankard hitting wood. When he saw through the crowded room that there was a stool still empty stool right up at the bar he thanked the gods.

“The usual?” asked the barkeep, a squat, pug-nosed woman, when he sat down

“You know it Helga” He gave her a worn smile

As she filled a mug with thick yeasty ale, his attention shifted to the man beside him. Built like a plowhorse, he wore a boiled leather vest a sweat-stained tunic, emphasizing tightly, emphasizing the hefty muscle and sizeable gut that bulged out from his arms and torso. Two wide shoulders framed him, with wide and strong arms that connected to rough hands, calloused and brown from years of hard work. He smelt of leather and sweat, and when he looked over and caught Hal staring, a cheeky smile came across his bearded face.

“You come here often?” was the only thing Hal could think of saying before he felt a red flush come across his cheeks

The stranger gave a chuckle “Nah, I'm new in this area. The names Pate”

Pate shook the Hals hand, crushing fingers under his grip

“you a regular?”

“I’m Hal, and yeah, I do come here often. This is where I come after my quests”

They were interrupted by a sharp clearing of Helga's throat. “two silvers”

Pate dropped a fat golden coin on the counter.

“Will this do for tonight for me and my bud?”

He had never seen Helga move so quickly as he did then.

“Yes Yes, of course” she said, snatching it and giving a cautionary bite, before another customer called he over

Hal must have looked as shocked as he felt because Pate chucked again when his eyes reached him.

“How do you have that kind of money? That coin is worth what I earn in an entire year!”

“Believe it or not, I’m secretly royalty,” he winked.

Hal's jaw dropped

“I'm just jesting," an affectionate hand patted Hal on the back "came across a Wizard that was traveling on his way over here, said he was transporting an ancient artifact. He hired me, called me his “extra muscle" He took a sip of ale "we were ambushed, turns out I wasn't much help. I don't even remember how I was knocked out, but I do remember waking up in the middle of the road with the mother of all headaches and a chest full of treasure, with and this on top.” He held out a small hollow green tube, rubberlike and the width and length of an ear of corn, an inscription along the side reading in an alien script

“Dunno why they left that chest, and everyone was gone, so I took the valuables as payment and decided to complete the mission I had been hired for. Do you know any places here that have anything to do with orcs? the old wizard was talking about them when we were on the road”

“Whoah, that's crazy, You've probably got more money now than i'll ever see in my life as an adventurer” He studied the table “I might've heard some stuff about them as a kid, they say that they live in these local woods. You know, it's kind of dangerous if you would go out searching here… you know..” he looked into Pate’s dark brown eyes and his cheeks were red again, but not off drink

”...without a guide” he quickly distracted himself with his ale, trying to mask his embarrassment with the thick yeasty drink.

“Say, why don't we go on an adventure together then? Might be that I can't go back home now, since the Magician's colleagues would hang me for a thief if they knew I took the gold. You seem as good a partner in crime as any”. A thick hand lightly caressed Hal’s thigh. The younger man's gaze returned to Pate’s eyes, cheeks like raspberries as he tried to ignore the stirring in his nethers.

"What do you say? Partners?”

“Yes!” Hal said, a little too quickly.

“Good.” he spat on his hand and held it out for a shake, a gesture which Hal reciprocated.

A short few hours of talking made Has feel as if he had known Pate for years, and before they knew it the 'pigs were closing for the night.

They found a soft bed of moss out in the woods that surrounded the tavern to set up camp. A cool night breeze blew pleasantly on the pair as they lay down from their first night as partners.

Pate wrapped his bulky arms around Hals's reclining body, moving in for a spooning. Hal could feel hot breath on his neck, and the warmth of Pate’s larger body radiating into him, but most of all he felt a hardness pressing upon his lower back. He felt his own member begin to twitch as rough hands rubbed across his body, absently stroking and folding the mounds and crevices of his lithe body. His own hand moved up to meet one of Pate’s as it folded his pecs.

“You like this?” he heard Pate murmur

Hal turned around to gaze into his green eyes, illuminated by the starlight

“Do you?”

They plunged their lips together, the taste sweet on each other's mouths. Hal tore Pate’s tunic over his head and tossed it, revealing a sturdy chest, pelted with the same dark wiry hairs that scratched Hal's face. His nipples were two dark diamonds in the starlight, his body smelling of sweat and leather and dirt. Hal’s lips moved down, taking his right nipple into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. Pate gave a soft moan and pressed his right hand into Hal’s fluffy brown curls.

Suddenly, A voice came into Hal's head. Deep and rumbling it told him, commanded him. His hand reached into the satchel that lay beside them, fingers securing around the thick green pipe that Pate had shown him earlier that night, only now it was softer and slightly moist.

Like he had done it a hundred times, Hal tore down Pate’s britches, revealing a long mast that stood proudly in the night. Before he could say anything, Pate was overwhelmed by a sense of otherworldly pleasure as his cock pushed into the soft green material, pulsing madly in the warm cocoon.

Hal’s member was next, sliding in to meet his partner’s cock within the strange object, their pre intermingling as they did. They embraced again for another long kiss. Where the skin of the two men met, It seemed stuck together, seeming as though Hal was sinking into Pate's embrace. From these points, a dark green shade overtook their previous skin tones. Hal's torso sank blissfully into the warmth of Pate’s huge chest, his own body losing form as their insides homogenized. Where their two cocks had once come together, a fat green monster, long and thick as a beer bottle now stood, leaking warm wetness across its engorged mushroom head. Their arms and legs merged, becoming engorged with muscle and fat with the same evergreen hue as their member. From where Hal’s ass and back had been, pushed out an imposing muscle gut, covered with long wiry red hairs that grew into a Forrest as down to his crotch. framing this impressive green orb were two meaty pecs that pushed out of his chest like fat hairy cones. A massive green hand reached down to stroke the tower of flesh between his thighs, sending tidal waves of pleasure that broke the two men’s brains. Their faces merged together, individuality melting away like butter in a pan, features rearranged to create something new and exciting. His nose became bulbous, pushing out from a wild tangle of long red hairs that grew across the new creature's face, forming a wild untamed beard. His eyes darkened to black, lower canine teeth pushing out to form two intimidating tusks. The hair remaining from the heads of Pate and Hal fell away, leaving a shiny scalp dripped with rivulets of perspiration. Memories appeared to the creature that had been Hal and Pate, slow simple messages that even an orc-like him could understand

“I Ugrull”

“Orc king”

“Must make kingdom”

He climaxed, a torrent of potent hot green cum blasting in a torrent across his mountainous torso, leaking down across his back. Deep down, Ugrull knew that all a man had to do was smell his seed to become overcome with lust, to submit to him. They would want nothing else but to take his hot thick Warhammer of a cock down their puny human throats, for their king to make them his orc slaves. “Humans submit, become sons”, he thought as his fingers glided across his slick belly, grinning wildly. He would be the greatest incarnation of the orc king this world had ever seen before.

#weight gain transformation #male transformation #merging #gay male tf #orc tf #orc transformation #male tf #wg tf

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crybabykiko · 4 years ago

Note

could you do the nsfw alphabet for atsumu please? thank you :)

Aw shit, here we go again...

NSFW Alphabet: Miya Atsumu

gn!reader focused

A/N: She hasn’t written in awhile but you know what I’m proud of it- lol be nice to me or I’ll leave forever jk I won’t but still be nice to me ily 💕 Atsumu is a menace I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Obviously nasty below the cut so if you’re a kid fuck off

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

He’s not the best, but certainly not the worst. He will take care of you, but… only after he takes care of himself first. Usually that just means he needs to take a shower. Once he does, he’s free to supply cuddles until you both fall asleep.

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

He has abs so solid you could make a sharkcoochie board on them. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

When Atsumu cums… he cums hard. It’s like having an out of body experience- every nerve cell in his body is firing off as he tenses up, digging his nails into whatever flesh he can grab, and grinding his heels into the surface supporting him. He bites down so hard his teeth grind involuntarily as his face contorts in a strained statuesque vision. One low growl from deep in his chest comes out through gritted teeth as he sputters out mixtures of “that’s it,” and “don’t you dare fucking stop.”

The orgasm face of Atsumu Miya is one of the 7 wonders of the world.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

It’s not a secret per se, but he’s been exposed and clowned for eating ass… so he doesn’t wanna talk about it.

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

So contrary to popular belief, I don’t think he’s that experienced... he’s just lucky! (Lmaoooo all of his experience is based on like 2 actual people that he maybe got to second base with (he says third but come on we know he’s lying) and then a litany of porn. Poor thing just wants some coochie I AM HERE KING and he has no trouble finding it, he just never seals the deal. He’s someone who just kind of, knows what to do naturally. He’s able to read someone’s body by touch alone, and so he knows what you like right off the bat based on how you react. He might try a couple of things at the start to see what really makes you squirm, but once he’s got it... holy hell has he ever got it.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

I hate to say how easy this was- but I KNOW Atsumu is a guy who prefers doggy. I see him as a hair puller, so this is perfect for him. I also could see him being into mirrors, and this is the perfect position to make you look at what he’s doing to you, especially while he’s pulling your head back by your hair. He especially likes gripping his thumbs into the smalls of your back (he crosses his arms bc saw it in a porn once and he thinks it makes him look cool), and when he’s INTO it, he likes to smack your ass to encourage you.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

Is goofy by accident. Like will sometimes try throwing in something new with his normal dirty talk that completely throws you off. He hates when you laugh at him for it, but you find it endearing.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

I’m gonna… say something so controversial yet so bold:

What hair?

And yes I mean that. Smooth. He waxes. Monthly. No hair. (Besides like… legs and armpits… yah he doesn’t touch those) Naked mole rat dick but fuck it he’s Atsumu motherfucking Miya he can do what he wants.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

While he’s not the most... romantic in general per se, he does want to make you feel appreciated. He’s very eager to get his, but he won’t allow himself to unless you have already. It takes restraint, but he cools himself down by having you get on top, or by leaving lingering kisses anywhere he can, saying you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

When he’s away from you he loves to send you videos of himself or FaceTime you. He gets you worked up enough to join him no matter where you are. He just needs to see you, he needs you to see him stroking his cock to the thought of you- he can’t cum without you telling him to.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

I have to get this out but I KNOW he’s nasty. I imagine Atsumu as a huge dirty talker and also someone who’s into spitting. Both of those are just clear in my brain... like he would be pundinng you from behind, spit on your back, and then call you a slut all in 3 seconds flat but the way that you would cream? Ugh insanity he needs to be arrested he needs to be stopped

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Since he’s got money now- he’s a big fan of ordering Uber XLs or even just hiring a driver for a night on the town as a flex. But he especially loves telling his driver to put up the window partition while he annihilates you in the backseat. I just think he’s a fan of car sex in general- it just does it for him.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Loves to hear his name. Whether you’re moaning it or screaming it like it’s the only word you know, he’s always going to ask you who you belong to, and the answer is always Atsumu.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He totally eats ass. He’s just not gonna tell anyone bc he told Osamu ONCE and now his contact name is ASStumu and he lives in fear of that getting out.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Sloppppppyyyyyy. Loves giving ~slightly~ more than receiving, simply bc he loves the sight of seeing his spit dripping down your thighs while he goes down on you. Loves eye contact when you’re going down on him.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

Though I wouldn’t say he’s super experienced, I know he’s relentless. He fucks. Literally just fucks. Not in the sense that he only treats you like a hole bc yikes, but in the sense that he just goes the speeds of fast or faster. There’s no slow with him.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

Yeah. Lots of them. Anywhere, anytime. Particularly for him, a lot of them end up being in his car, simply because you’ll be out somewhere and the mood strikes. He’ll quickly take you out to the car for a few minutes, slut you out, and then return to the function like nothing happened. You’ve had many a quickie in a bathroom or closet in a party as well. When he wants you, he wants you, so he’s not afraid to take you.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

Not as much of a risk-taker as people think. Mostly because he wants to protect you. He would hate for someone to see you in such a compromising position… but also, you’ve had your fair share of quickies in the bathrooms of various wedding receptions, so he’s lying.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Can last a decent amount of time, if he spreads it out over multiple rounds. I’m general, he can probably go about 2 or 3 rounds without needing a break. More if you draw out foreplay with him. He’s a pleaser, so really how long he lasts is up to you. He’s got the power and control to hold off on is own release until he’s certain you absolutely can’t take anymore.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

One of those mfs who gets you the mold of his dick as a toy for your birthday for when he’s away because according to him “you’ll be so needy while I’m gone”

I hate him so much but I would use that shit every day he knows what he’s doing I’m so upset

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Speaking of being needy- he loves to egg you on when you are. He knows all the buttons to push, but he’ll never actually make the move until you’re begging. And of course he loves to turn that around in you, hitting you with that “god, ya just can’t get enough of me, can ya?”

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

He’s more of a talker than a moaner. Not necessarily loud in bed- but very, very vocal. Commanding of you in a good way, and will definitely show his appreciation through praise.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

Actually has a Cosmo subscription bc he likes trying all the strange and obscure sex positions in the articles. Also likes taking the quizzes, and will casually have you do them with him at breakfast.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

he’s a little on the thicker side. Its probably a good 7 inches, so it’s enough to fill you, add in the stretch of his girth and it’s a good, mild burn when he first goes in, but he fills you just enough without it being way too much. He’s a shower, so he doesn’t get much longer, but you have a lot to work with. He also has a cute freckle on his left inner thigh.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

His sex drive is on the higher end, but really only when he’s in his off season. When he’s actively playing in games, he tries to curb his appetite a bit because he believes in the superstition that sex messes with players’ stamina on the court.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

He’s gonna knock out, but not until he showers. He ALWAYS showers after. The water soothes his muscles and by the time he’s done it’s lights out.

Taglist Starseeds (link in nav to join): @honey-makki @acciobrooms @sen-brainrot @the-3d-sky-sister @minato-hoe @strawberrymakki @prettyforpapiiwa @arixtsukki @freyafolkvangr @milanapolitana @notjasmin @keishinsuke

If ur url is bolded, send me a dm! ✨

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #hq headcanons #hq hcs #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #daisy’s red light district 🚨

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mythicamagic · 3 years ago

Note

Enemies to Lovers - Sesshoumaru is injured - "Lean on me" prompt

AN: Because there’s a lot of prompts to get through I probably should have/could have spent more time on this one due to the heavy subject matter buuut since in the anime Sesshoumaru only gets 11 episodes to recover from the loss of his arm, I don’t feel too guilty XD

Warning: body trauma

---

Inuyasha's wench had found him around an hour ago. Unlike Rin, she'd deliberated approaching for a few moments. Unsurprising. They were still foes after all. Crimson eyes remained burning, glaring listlessly at her face.

She'd seemed to silently decide something, determination steeling her expression. The yellow nekomata he vaguely recalled belonging to the slayer was her sole companion, who growled at him warningly not to try anything. As if he would.

The miko carried a large cumbersome bag, so he assumed she'd been headed somewhere before running into him within the forest.

Kagome cleaned his wound as best she could, before binding it to try and stop the excessive blood loss. She'd then approached with the beast, proceeding to kneel beside his bloody form. Sesshoumaru remained where he was, reclined against a tree and settled at its base.

Kagome winced, arm secured around his waist after having removed his armour.

"I can't just leave you like this. Lean on me. I'll take your weight enough to move you onto Kirara."

Sesshoumaru turned his head, gazing at nothing.

His lips moved, speaking too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He repeated himself in a tight voice. "What is the point?"

Kagome stiffened against him. Her heart thudded quicker, fear brushing his senses.

Sesshoumaru allowed his hazy red eyes to dull into empty gold, staring right at the woman.

He could survive a missing arm. Had adjusted his fighting style enough to manage.

But the Killing Perfection could not survive the loss of a leg too. His body would save him from blood loss, but his spirit lay broken, irreparable.

Kagome swallowed loudly, resting a hand on his upper thigh. His leg ended below the knee.

"T-this… it's nothing for you," she mumbled quietly. "You're going to be okay. You'll find a way to walk again."

Sesshoumaru chuckled dryly, resting his head back against the trunk. "Why do you care, wench?" he flashed sharp teeth at her. "We are not allies. Leave me."

"I won't," Kagome moved closer, grabbing a handful of his hankimono. "Listen, I might not be your friend and you've tried to kill Inuyasha more than a few times, but…" her hand shook. "But you're the strongest person I've met. If you fall, then what hope do the rest of us have?" she questioned softly. "Despite myself, I admire people like you and Kikyo. Always so crazy strong."

Sesshoumaru scoffed, gripping her hard by the hair and forcing her head down to look at the stump of his right leg. "Do I look strong to you, miko?" he hissed in her ear.

Kagome braced her hands on his available leg, twisting in his grip to look at him.

Sesshoumaru stilled.

Unshed tears lay in her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered with conviction. "So long as you don't give up now."

Sesshoumaru stared. Inky black hair slowly fell limp around his fingers. He settled back against the tree.

Kagome straightened, winding an arm around his waist again. "At least come with me to find shelter. You can't stay like this out in the open."

Sesshoumaru remained dead weight. He did not see the point in trying.

He could not hope to recover from this.

Kagome tugged and heaved at his body, his mass much too big for her to hope to move.

She sighed with frustration, blowing air at her bangs. "I'll tell Inuyasha about this," she grumbled.

Sesshoumaru blinked, sliding his gaze back to her. "I would kill you before you managed to leave."

Kagome smiled a little, patting his shoulder. "That's better. You look a bit more like yourself when you're threatening someone."

He wanted to snap at her. To snarl and bite the soft looking skin of her neck, frighten her enough to leave.

He was tired. A part of him felt content to die after his pride lay in such shattered tiny pieces.

And yet…

And yet a part of him, instinctive, strong and indomitable, refused to lay down and perish. It appreciated her continued efforts.

The thought of him hobbling about so pathetically was almost too much to bear, but Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, realising very wretchedly that this meant he did not in fact wish to die.

"We can do this," Kagome was muttering, trying to angle him enough to lay on Kirara, who pressed in close, offering assistance.

Sesshoumaru stifled a sigh, making a silent choice. He begrudgingly leaned against her, shifting his remaining leg beneath him.

Kagome gasped, "that's it!" she encouraged, helping him into a crouching position before he fell forward onto the beast. Kagome adjusted his leg, ensuring he was steady, before nodding for Kirara to stand.

Sesshoumaru did not pay attention to their surroundings, the forest passing in a blur.

If he'd just been quicker, the bull demon who had humiliated him would have perished sooner. The beast had produced a second weapon out of thin air, axe cleaving through muscle and bone. All he could do was pull back- lest he lose his entire lower half.

He felt no pain. Surprisingly, everything remained numb. His flesh was cold and clammy, and he lay as if outside of his own body.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness.

---

The scent of rain stirred his senses.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, finding himself laying down upon a strange futon that resembled a squashed cocoon. The nekomata lay behind him, keeping him warm.

Sesshoumaru blinked. The miko had found them shelter. He soon located her sitting at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain while a fire lay in the centre of the cool space.

When she noticed he’d regained consciousness, Kagome rose and offered some water from her strange water container.

She’d changed clothes, donning more unusual clothing Sesshoumaru was unfamiliar with. Her pants clung to her form distractingly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering close.

He tsked, passing back the water after taking a swig. “Like I have one leg and one arm. How do you think I am feeling, mortal?”

She winced, “shitty.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru lay back down, staring at the cave ceiling soberly.

“Do you want something to eat?” a crunchy noise rustled from her pocket as the woman produced a rectangular bar of some kind.

He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice, eyeing a picture of the food on its strange packaging. “What is it?”

“A peanut butter and chocolate energy bar,” Kagome winced. “Look I don’t know how to hunt-” he scoffed, “-so this is the best I’ve got. Sorry, your Highness.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you may keep it. I do not eat human food. Least of all bizarre creations such as that.”

“Fine but it's your loss.”

His expression became blank, noticing her wince and start apologising for the wording. He wasn’t listening anymore though. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, and now he was more than painfully aware of the shooting pains running up and down the remainder of his leg, from stump to upper thigh. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, refusing to show his discomfort.

“...You’ve used a human arm before,” Kagome said carefully, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. “And what looked like a dragon one. By that logic, you could attach a demon leg to yours, right?”

Sesshoumaru slid his gaze to her, silently thankful for the distraction. The coming agony would be something he’d already dealt with due to the loss of his arm. Phantom limb pain was a real bitch.

“Yes,” he managed, before taking a steadying breath. He managed to arrange his features into something smirking and lofty. “Are you implying you will fetch me a new limb, little miko? How very generous.”

Kagome’s eyes turned flat. “I’m not about to go out and lop off some poor demon’s foot just to help you. But...if…” she said slowly, “if I’m attacked- which happens often because of the jewel shards- maybe I’d…”

Sesshoumaru dropped his smug expression, frowning softly.

The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground hard. It was a sobering reminder that if she’d left him to the mercy of the elements, he’d be in a much worse state.

He ran careful attention over her features. “Why?”

Kagome’s deep blue eyes held his probing stare, not a flicker of deceit in them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “things can’t go back to normal for you right away- or at least, they shouldn’t. You should take the time to recover. I don’t know how the hell you managed to come after us so quickly after losing your arm. It likely wasn’t healthy for you.”

He arched a brow. Repressing every single fibre of the experience and any feelings about the fate that had befallen his left arm had worked wonders for his recovery. Granted it made sleep difficult at times, but none had ever had the audacity to lecture him about his decisions before.

“But- I also don’t want you to be vulnerable to attacks or starvation,” Kagome kept rambling. “Giving you a leg won’t solve everything but it’ll help- ah, are you burning up?” she noticed a bead of sweat roll down his temple, reaching out automatically.

Sesshoumaru snatched it mid-air, pushing up with a burst of speed and yanking Kagome down, simultaneously rolling atop her. Her back hit the ground, punctuated with a squeak from her startled lips.

Silver hair hung down, creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. Those blue eyes widened, breath hitching. Their lower halves pressed intimately together, stomachs meeting as Sesshoumaru leaned closer, using his hand to brace his weight above her. A fire burned within the back of his throat, ancient, tattered pride stinging. He found that he resented her slightly. Resented her for seeing him so weak. It hadn’t mattered when Rin had found him wounded. A battered child had no relation to him. But this girl, Kagome- was an enemy. She should not have seen him thus.

“Do I seem so very vulnerable to you?” he asked in a hushed voice, mouth inches from hers. The fire crackled, rain pouring. Her breathing sounded a touch quicker, heartbeat loud in his ears. Drumming.

Against all logic, he felt her body relax beneath his. She even smiled a little, “no,” she muttered.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m just glad you proved me wrong. I’d rather you kept acting like a jerk than look so...defeated like you did earlier,” Kagome gave a nervous giggle, gesturing between them, “uh...if you could let me up now though that would be great.”

She tried to rise, but he let more of his weight sink down upon her soft, warm body. “No, I do not think I will.”

Kagome gasped, drawing a knee up and inadvertently opening her legs, allowing him to fit snugly against her. If he hadn’t lost a limb several hours earlier that same day and wasn’t experiencing agonising, blinding pain, Sesshoumaru had to say, the feeling was enough to make him...consider something previously thought impossible between himself and humans.

As it was, he hissed a breath through grit teeth, the stump licking phantom flames of blazing fire around the wound.

“Sesshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!”

He shuddered, trying to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight, arm shaking.

It hurt. It suddenly hurt like hell- and nothing was working. No distraction could take him from the blistering, lonely, maddening sensation that holy fuck his leg was missing. He wanted to do something as meaningless as wriggle his toes and he could not-

Suddenly, her arms were around him. Pleasant fresh scents assaulted his fractured senses, citrusy and clean. Kagome pulled him down while rolling herself, flipping their positions.

“I don’t have anything for the pain,” her voice strained apologetically. She quickly moved off him, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t paying attention anymore. He panted, temples pounding. His body shook, pain shooting through the nerve endings in the remainder of his leg.

Something cold and wet lay over his marked forehead. Cracking the burning suns of pained golden eyes open, he watched Kagome adjust the cold compress, before checking his leg.

“You heal quick, but you need new bandages. M-maybe that’ll help until I can go home for painkillers,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and digging through it.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, seizing the fretting miko’s wrist.

“Your...scent,” he grunted.

“What?”

If he were sober he’d never request something so undignified, but Sesshoumaru kept talking, somewhat delirious now that all sense of shock had worn off. “Come here...again. I want your scent.”

Kagome’s shocked features were lost to him as the Daiyoukai hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The scent of citrus returned after a moment. Soft, curling locks of dark hair brushed his nose as Kagome gingerly embraced him.

Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his face into the black fall of citrus-scented strands. He lost himself to instinct, gripping onto the stable, pleasant sensations that took the form of Inuyasha’s wench. She let out a tense breath but soon relaxed against him, verbally assuring Kirara when the nekomata growled.

For the second time that day, Sesshoumaru unwillingly lost the battle for consciousness.

----

She was gone by the time he awoke in the morning, but the nekomata remained. She growled and hissed softly whenever he looked at the beast for longer than necessary. Kagome left a note, explaining that she’d be back soon.

Sesshoumaru had little to do except wait. The pain had become a continuous throb, which was easier to deal with but equally as irritating, exhausting him.

When Kagome returned several hours later, she produced wrapped pieces of cooked chicken from her bag, cheerfully explaining that she’d returned home. Sesshoumaru turned his nose up slightly at the food.

“I would have preferred the bird...raw.”

“Wait like freshly dead?”

“Alive, favourably.”

Kagome gaped, leaving the lunchbox with him. “That's terrible!”

Sesshoumaru stared at her flatly, opening his mouth and drawing out his tongue, transforming his features into something more monstrous and canine while placing the food into his mouth and eating it in one quick snap of his jaws. “Demon,” he muttered pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and let him finish his meal in peace.

---

They fell into an odd routine of planned visits for several days, talking about the strange things she brought back from home. He came to learn she was from the Future, of all places. They discussed its advanced technologies while she bandaged his leg.

He suspected the miko felt some sense of responsibility for him now. The thought set his teeth on edge, mildly humiliated.

When he brought up the subject of his vassal, ward and steed, Kagome shrugged and told him they’d been accepted into Inuyasha’s group for the time being. They worried about his continued absence and Inuyasha complained about having to share a space with Jaken, but bared with it. Not one person knew about his situation except Kagome, for which he was thankful.

By the end of five days though, Sesshoumaru needed to move. He began by pulling himself along the ground via his hand and knee, which proved awkward but not impossible. Next came standing, which- after many failed attempts- he finally managed to do, gripping onto the cave wall.

Walking was impossible, of course. And by the time Sesshoumaru realised the very sobering truth that he’d have to hop everywhere the rest of his life or walk with the use of a cane or crutch unless he could grab a demon leg- he wondered why he’d bothered moving at all.

“You’re standing!”

Dulled golden eyes slid to the miko, who stood at the mouth of the cave. In her arms was a large sack faintly marred with blood, and he could tell from the wrinkle of her nose exactly what it was. Surprise slammed into his gut.

“Miko-”

Kagome set the bundle down, hurrying over and steadying him when he tipped too much to one side. “Are you alright? You should be resting-”

“Give me the leg, miko.”

Kagome fell silent, eyeing his stump. He’d stopped needing bandages two days ago. She didn’t protest, merely looking at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Sesshoumaru leaned against her, allowing her to help ease him down into a sitting position. He briefly touched her cheek, gliding a thumb there and watching it redden. His heart thudded with gladness. “I am sure.”

She nodded, soon bringing the bloodied sack over. She explained that he’d gotten lucky, as while the first two demons they’d faced in a group of three had been too large and bulky to fit his build, the third had been smaller. Inuyasha had been extremely disturbed and suspicious when she’d asked him to hack their leg off once all three were dead.

“It’s not been easy, avoiding his questions, you know. He’s tried to follow me here more than once. I managed to convince him that this leg was for my weird Grandpa.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, finding himself watching her instead of studying the leg as it was revealed to him. The miko had been astronomically helpful and considerate in all the ways one could to a demon lord. His chest felt strange. Warm, upon realising the extent of her actions for his sake.

“Well, do you like it?”

Sesshoumaru jolted, focusing on the red-scaled leg laying before him. From its scent, he knew it to be from a lizard demon. Not his first choice, but this was no time to be picky. Sesshoumaru grabbed it and pressed the severed end to his stump after aligning it. He didn’t so much as flinch as muscle and bone wove together, the process over in seconds. Kagome gaped with amazement.

When he moved to stand, she quickly assisted, pulling him to his feet. Sesshoumaru took a step and staggered, looking downwards.

Ah.

Kagome’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no...it's too short isn’t it?”

The height was off by a few inches.

He made to reply- before stiffening, scenting salt. “Why are you crying about it, foolish woman?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she waved it off, some tears escaping down her cheeks before she roughly brushed them away. “I just wanted it to be perfect but now you’re kind of...tilted.”

Despite the situation, a smile tugged at his mouth. A noise bubbled up from the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet laugh.

Kagome froze, tears clinging to her lashes.

“It is fine, miko. More than...fine.”

Sesshoumaru held onto the wall for support, feeling the bite of putting weight onto the leg, his stump flaring. It would take time for his body to adjust. Despite this, his warrior heart filled with purpose again, powers working to heal him. Just having the ability to walk after having it stolen away renewed his spirits.

Kagome watched him with a smile, occasionally offering aid but largely keeping her hands off. He could sense various soft emotions rolling off her in waves. Admiration, relief and something else. Something he could not name. It remained untouched and unnamed long after he left the cave behind one afternoon.

He had no writing utensils to leave a note, instead carefully tearing out a segment of his sleeve, leaving the red and white flower symbol of his family crest for her to find.

---

Kagome panted hard, catching her breath and folding down into a crouch, gripping her bow tight.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” Rin asked, closely followed by Shippo as they approached from Ah-Un, having kept away from the random attack on the village. Thankfully the hoard of boar demons had finally been dealt with, but Kagome’s nerves were shot to hell after racing around so much, trying to protect villagers.

“I-I’m fine, guys, thanks,” she smiled, looking between them both. The orphans had bonded quickly, and she felt a surge of warmth, happy they had a companion their age to talk with. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen Sesshoumaru since his disappearance, and while she loved having Rin around, it did make her worry. Sesshoumaru always returned to his group. Where had he run off too?

Maybe he went to find a better leg, she thought, taking the children’s hands and walking towards Miroku- who was helping up an old man from where he’d fallen. Perhaps he needed time to get used to walking on what’s essentially a prosthetic.

For humans- such a thing took up to one year. Demons really are something else.

Kagome’s lips curved, picturing the burning, determined gaze of the Daiyoukai.

Or rather, Sesshoumaru is something else.

“Kagome, look out!” Miroku yelled.

Jerking, Kagome sensed a lone boar youkai barrelling towards her through the forest, knocking trees aside. It was quicker than anticipated- and despite Kagome grabbing the children and trying to run out of its way, it charged straight for her, grunting, throwing its head wildly.

People were screaming her name, but they were too far away. Kagome twisted her body, pushing the kids aside and in order for her to take the brunt of the hit-

Red light exploded to life, consuming the boar demon before it could reach them. Hide and blood were caught up in the attack, leaving Kagome mercifully free from the boar's flying carnage.

She panted, shaking a little and gazing at the steaming remains of the demon. A pale figure floated to the ground, landing elegantly.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” Rin cried happily.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?!” Jaken’s distant yell could be heard.

Kagome straightened, heart doing a funny thing in her chest. She immediately looked at his leg- finding him clad in white hakama pants and black boots. The same as always.

Blue eyes widened. He appeared completely unchanged. Somehow, he must’ve found an inhuman demon and took their leg so that he could masquerade as his usual self.

His tiny group circled around him joyously, while Kagome’s friends gathered together a little ways away. Inuyasha’s ears pinned back to his head with displeasure.

Jaken hopped up and down. “Where have you BEEN, mi lord!”

“Nowhere."

“Tch, bastard,” grumbling, Inuyasha raised his voice a touch. “Hey- you could at least thank us for babysitting your damn group while you were probably out doing power-hungry shit.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid over the Hanyou dismissively, stopping on Kagome. Her breathing hitched.

“I am not here to thank you, Inuyasha.”

Kagome remained frozen as a shadow fell over her face, his head of silver hair blocking out the sun. Golden eyes replaced the burning circle in the sky, blazing and intent. Slit pupils pinned her in place.

She was vaguely aware of her friends exclaiming in surprise and alarm, thinking he meant to harm her. The sound of Inuyasha drawing his sword was enough to make her mutter ‘sit boy’ absentmindedly, paying no attention to his subsequent impact with the ground.

Sesshoumaru raised a hand, resting pale knuckles against her cheek in a slow drag down to her jaw, skin cool, clashing against her warmth. White lashes lowered, becoming half-mast.

“You’re okay?” she breathed.

“Hn, I merely needed some time,” Sesshoumaru’s low rumble melted her insides.

She cleared her throat, cheeks tinging red because of his proximity, his dark youki brushing her senses, his touch- his everything. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the segment of his clothing, the pattern of his clan. “Did you want this back-?”

“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over it, catching her eye. “You have my loyalty for what you have done for this one, miko. Keep it,” he said softer.

Kagome nodded slowly, opening her mouth to ask more-

Firm lips slanted over her own. Stiffening, she became deaf to her friend’s even louder exclamations of surprise, Miroku quietly voicing his awe, impressed.

The miko inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling Sesshoumaru’s mouth move, brushing against her own in several lingering kisses. Blushing, it took a moment for Kagome to get over her stupefaction. But then she pressed a little closer, kissing him back perhaps a little nonsensically. But it felt right. Her toes curled at the feel of him.

A low groan rumbled in his throat and his lips softened against hers, mouth parting to brush his sinuous tongue against hers.

Kagome shivered and wondered if he could hear how her heart hammered in her chest. His palm felt steady upon her back, arm encircling her waist. When they finally pulled away, their lips lingered close.

“What...what was that?” she breathed, cheeks flushed.

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked, “that was this Sesshoumaru conveying my deep sense of gratitude, miko.”

“Funny way of thanking someone, but I’ll take it,” Kagome’s eyes glittered. She could think about the consequences of such an action later. For now, she was content to hold his gaze and keep his secret safe- for however long the prideful Daiyoukai needed.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi #sesskag fanfiction #enemies to lovers vibes

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years ago

Text

you’re someone i just want around: II

“You can call me when you feel like

I’m your good time, I’ll be your temporary fix

You can own me, and we’ll call this what you like

Let me be your goodnight”

-Temporary Fix, One Direction

A/N: honestly can y’all believe @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and i finished part 2 within a week like what kind of productive hyper fixated legends are we??? if you haven’t heard, this started as a random concept between andrea and i to discuss at 3am and then we accidentally fell in love with vampirerry and his stupid asshole ways and now we’re here!!! we really hope you like this part, and the next parts coming (which are in the works and begin to dive into harry’s tragic backstory because who doesn’t love a lil pain :)))) just a reminder that if you like this, then reblog it!! not just our work but the work of all content creators!!! and feedback is also greatly appreciated 💌

ysijwa masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : andrea’s masterlist

word count: 15.8k

content/warnings: vampire!harry laughing at a mortal not being able to open a door until he realizes his immportal ass can’t come inside, bloody good sex (literally), face f*cking, female-received oral, harry condemning stephanie meyer’s portrayal of vampires, psychological demolition of a quaint bedroom, and a cocky vampire with shitty taste in coffee

///

If Y/N can’t find her goddamn keys, she’s going to lose her mind.

Of course, she may just lose her mind anyways, given the way the handsome, tall, tattooed, and British (because of course he’s British, of fucking course) stranger whose name she can’t quite remember is smearing his lips against hers in the dim light of the hallway outside her apartment. All Y/N wants to do is pull him--Henry? Harrison? --into her apartment, into her bed, and tell him to fuck her until she can’t walk, but the stubborn lock of her door and the strangely bottomless clutch bag in her hand have other plans.

It does occur to Y/N, in a flicker of a drunken thought, that if she took a step back from the man--Hayden? --she may stand a better chance of finding the silver key ring she could swear she tossed in her bag before she left that night, but then the man’s tequila tinted mouth ghosts over hers once more, and the thought burns out completely.

“Y’alright, dove?” The man asks, his pillowy pink lips still hovering over hers as he speaks, low and soft and tantalizing. “Are you going to open the door, or do you want me to take you out here?”

A soft squeak stutters from Y/N at the lewd comment, and the brunette separates from her just enough that she can see the very corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Sorry.” He says, despite his voice sounding not very sorry at all. “Was that too much?”

“I--no, I just--” Y/N sucks in a deep breath to steady herself, but it backfires when traces of alcohol and his tobacco and vanilla scented cologne catch in the back of her throat. “I can’t find my keys.”

A small chuckle of mirth rolls from the stranger. “You can’t find your keys? Shall I take a look for you?”

The thought of him-- his name starts with an H, she knows it does-- poking around in her bag which, by her normal standards, is quite organized, but by regular standards, is a fucking mess, brings a heated flush to her already warm cheeks. “No, I can get them, just--” Taking another reluctant step back from him, Y/N digs her hand down into her clutch, blindly pressing her fingers into the corners until she feels the touch of cool metal. “Got them!”

“Wonderful.” The man’s irises glint in the flickering hallway light, emerald glee flashing back at Y/N’s own drunken stare. His eyes really are hypnotizing, Y/N thinks, with the way the forest shades seem to swirl around in each other, the way they seem to shine and darken over and over, how--

“Are you going to actually unlock the door, darling?” His lilting accent interrupts Y/N’s mesmerized thoughts as his hands smooth over the small of her back. “Or are we back to the idea of me taking you in the hallway?”

As more embarrassment flushes through Y/N’s body, heating every inch of her skin, she manages to shake her head quickly, the motion making her vision spin. “No, sorry, I--sorry.” She clears her throat once, the alcohol making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth. “Here--”

There’s another peal of laughter from behind her as Y/N spends a moment forcing her key into the lock of her door, having to give it an extra shove with all of her body weight before the stubborn mechanism twists and allows her to swing the door open. With a relieved sigh, Y/N steps over the threshold, noticing that the stranger’s touch has fallen away once she’s inside.

With a confused and heavy glance, Y/N regards the curly-haired boy over her shoulder, turning slowly around to see him standing just outside the step of her apartment. The hands that had just been groping every inch of her that they could get ahold of are now braced against the doorway, his tanned and inked muscles exposed beneath the sleeves of his blue t-shirt that fits him so perfectly, Y/N thinks she may faint. Although his smirk is still tugging at his lips, his eyes have shifted to definitive darkness, and his expression has become more guarded.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asks slowly, her own brows furrowing to match his own. “Aren’t you going to come in?”

The man’s eyes flash once more, and--Harry! His name is Harry, Y/N remembers, and an alleviant feeling flushes through her veins while she struggles to keep the realization off her face as Harry straightens up to appraise her properly.

As his eyes scan over Y/N’s liquor-loose body, her eyes wide, trusting, and curious, her hair tangled from Harry’s fingers mussing it, a hickey just starting to colour at the base of her neck. The spot sends a flood of venom through Harry’s mouth and he knows that it’s time. The moment that Harry dreads with each drunken club hookup has finally arrived. The moment he has to figure out a way to get whatever poor soul he’s chosen as his midnight snack to explicitly invite him into their home.

There are a lot of abilities that come with being a vampire that Harry is thankful for. The compulsion, he’d learned from his very first day in his afterlife, is one of the most useful and commonly used traits Harry possesses; after all, it’s a lot easier to take a little bite from an unsuspecting college student when you can make them forget it after. The inhuman strength, of course, and the accompanying speed was handy, but mostly used for fun more than anything else. When you barely sleep, you end up with a lot of free time, and impossible strength and speed makes for never ending wrestling matches, races, and various sporting competitions with Niall (they’d tried chess once, but Niall only lasted fifteen minutes before his attention drifted to the scent of a nighttime jogger outside the condo).

However, with all the sweetness that comes with being undead, there’s also the sour. Iron has a tendency to burn the diamond-like skin of a vampire as if they were mere humans being prodded with a white hot brand, which Harry had learned the hard way back in his early days. Stepping out into the sunlight has the same effect. While these two issues could be easily remedied by dipping an iron object into gold, or wearing a sunlight ring respectively, there’s still one downside to life after death that irks Harry every time he’s presented with it.

Like every old folklore about vampires he had ever heard growing up, Harry has to be invited inside before he can cross the threshold of someone’s home.

And, as he’d learned over the years, it has to be an explicit invitation. A beckoning of a hand or head won’t do, nor will a quiet whisper of “Follow me.” No, a resident of the home has to clearly state that they want Harry inside their space, or else he’ll be blocked from crossing under the door frame like there’s an invisible wall that only appears for him.

Given that Harry was raised in a time where proper manners were of the utmost importance, and an invitation had to be extended by a girl’s family before Harry was permitted to step onto the premises of their estate, getting this permission from someone isn’t too difficult for him. However, if his meal is a little too soaked in alcohol, pulling an invitation from their slurring mouths can sometimes prove to be a challenge.

So when Y/N asks if he’s going to come in with confusion clearly tinging her voice, Harry knows he has to play his next moments very carefully. He drops his eyelids halfway, giving her a sultry look that indicates every one of his intentions with her (at least, the ones he wants her to know about). When he answers, his voice is low and drawling, dripping with thirst disguised as need despite the careful cadence of his words. “Do you want me to come in?”

While Y/N’s blood alcohol content is a little higher than usual, she still has enough awareness in her to show her surprise at the question Harry poses.

“Do I--?” She cuts herself off to rephrase her words in an incredulous tone. Was he serious? “You literally had your tongue down my throat a minute ago, and now you’re asking if I want you to come in?”

Harry-- Y/N keeps repeating his name in her head to commit it to memory-- lifts one shoulder in a quick shrugging motion as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this,” He says, motioning between the two of them from outside the door. “Before we go any further. Spoken consent is important, too.”

If Y/N hadn’t already been ready to drop to her knees and do whatever Harry wanted, that one sentence would’ve been enough to pull the reaction from her. It takes every ounce of effort in her slightly intoxicated body to not tug his pants off right there in her doorway, and instead she takes a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Yes.” She tries to keep her voice as steady as she possibly can. “Yes, I want you to come in, Harry.”

The vampire’s nearly blindingly white teeth flash at her as a smile overtakes his face, and he confidently yet slowly strides into her apartment, his eyes flickering over the interior space, but keeping most of their attention trained on her.

As he steps towards her, Y/N steps backwards, leading him down the hallway, past her bathroom and small bedroom, and to the main kitchen and living area. For once, Y/N is thankful that she took the time to do a quick sweep of her apartment the day before, as she would’ve been mortified if Harry had seen her half folded laundry spread out on her couch like it normally is.

“Do you, um--” She clears her throat once as she motions to the bar cart in the corner of the room. “Do you want a drink?”

Harry can’t help the small laugh that peels from his lips. If only Y/N knew, he thinks, as he takes another step closer to her so he can grip her chin between his thumb and forefinger. From the fluttering of her eyes, stuttering of her breath, and the audible increase of blood rushing through her body, concentrating in the areas that interest him the most, Harry can tell that she likes when he displays a dominant air over her. Keeping his voice sultry to hide the growing smugness-- not completely, but enough that he doesn’t sound too cocky, Harry asks what’s meant to be a simple question. “You’re nervous. What’s got you all worked up, hm?”

Tongue unfeeling in her mouth, Y/N struggles to answer as she stumbles over her words, distracted by the feeling of Harry’s ringed thumb caressing her chin, just barely grazing her lips.

“You’re just--I--” She sucks in a quick breath, trying to push down her embarrassment as her voice emerges more breathless than before. “You’re just really hot.”

Ah, the praise. If the pleasure of swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of warm, sweet blood wasn’t Harry’s literal reason for existence, his most favourite thing in the world would be the way humans fawn over him. The beauty of a vampire is part of what lures a human in, and while Harry has foggy memories of being bashful in his human life, he’s fully transformed that part of himself in death.

“Am I?” He asks, and the snarky remark goes straight to the heat between Y/N’s thighs as he drops his face, his cool forehead pressing against her own flushed skin.

Y/N nods slowly, her nose bumping against Harry’s with every motion. “Yeah, you are. I couldn’t believe that…” Her cheeks heat again as she trails off, and it’s only the insistent tap of Harry’s fingers against her hip that make her continue. “Couldn’t believe that you were interested in me. Out of all the girls there…”

Harry uses his grip on her side to tug Y/N closer to him, despite already being only inches apart. Although her scent had hit him like a train back at the club, here, in her own apartment, the fragrance is ten times as intense. Y/N’s personal perfume of honey and lavender lingers in every breath he takes in, drifts off the couch, the throw pillows, the books on the coffee table...everything is drenched in her, and Harry almost feels drunk from it.

“Didn’t care about the others. You--” He catches himself just in time, before the words “you smelled the best” tumble from his open mouth. “You just caught my attention. You looked so shy.” That’s true enough, Harry thinks, as his hand moves from her chin to grip the opposite side of her torso tightly in his large hands. “Wanted to see if I could break through that.”

Y/N yelps softly as Harry picks her up as if she weighs no more than a dandelion picked from a field, and drops her onto the couch behind her. Although the worn fabric of the sofa is familiar, Y/N almost thinks that she should ask Harry to take her to her bedroom. And then she gets a good look at Harry standing over her with lust clouding his jade irises and his lips so red she could name a lipstick after them, and every thought of anything besides him leaves her mind.

Harry straightens his spine after he drops her on the couch, his ringed hands easily finding the buckle of his belt to yank it free from his trousers in one swift motion, letting it fall to the IKEA rug below him. His gaze flickers to lock eyes with Y/N as he fiddles with his zipper, catching and basking in the way her eyes keep falling to the movement.

He can see the neediness that’s practically dripping from her irises just as easily as tears would, and the way she catches her lip between her teeth in impatience forces Harry to bite back a groan. It’s been so long since he had someone so...so fucking delectable, not just in smell, but in their actions.

“Would you like to do it?” Harry asks the question quietly, dancing his fingers over his zipper one last time before letting go.

Y/N’s answering nod is timid, and her actions are almost trancelike as she slowly reaches towards him, but Harry catches her wrist and grips it tightly before she can reach her goal.

Giving her a stern look, he raises his voice a few decibels louder than it was. “Use your words, then, darling. Tell me.”

Harry can smell the flood between her legs as a lustful whimper falls from Y/N’s lips, the desperation that’s coursing through her veins amplifying with every passing moment.

“I want to--” She nearly stutters over the words, and takes a moment to collect herself before continuing in a more self-assured voice. “I want to undress you.”

Harry’s responding smile is so big that, if she weren’t slightly intoxicated, and if there was more than just the light of one lamp illuminating the pair, Y/N might have noticed the sinister glint of his teeth.

“Good girl.” His voice is as smooth as molasses when he praises her. “Go ahead.”

Although her hands are clumsy, Y/N manages to work around the button and zipper of his pants until she can ease the fabric down his legs, her desperation only growing as his boxers-- and the clear outline of his hardening cock-- become visible. The erotic sight pulls a quiet but defined gasp from Y/N as she drags her index finger over the bulge, too entranced in her own actions to catch the way Harry’s eyes roll back into his head at the sensation.

“Oh.” With her heart thumping in her chest, Y/N finally raises her eyes to his. “You’re-- you’re so big, Harry…”

“Is that a problem?” Despite knowing that it isn’t-- and has never been before-- Harry still asks the question, wanting to extract as much praise from the mortal girl as he can before the night is over. He’s always had a bit of a praise kink, adoring the way humans adored him, but there’s something about the voice of the girl in front of him that makes the compliments sound sugar-coated in the best way.

Y/N’s response is so quick and sharp that it almost pulls a laugh from Harry’s chest.

“No.” She insists immediately, giving a rough shake of her head. “No, absolutely not.”

The sides of Harry’s kiss-swollen lips twitch arrogantly, but the next words he speaks are genuine. Although he’s a lot of things, certainly, a careless lover is not one of them.

“If it gets to be too much…” He brings a ringed hand to caress Y/N’s hair, his eyes softening for just a moment. “Don’t hesitate to tell me. I don’t want to do anything if it doesn’t make you feel just as good as it makes me feel.”

And with those words, that same desperation that Y/N had felt when he asked if he could come inside earlier reignites in her belly. It had never gone out, true, but it had dulled to a dim spark for just a moment, yet with the fanning of Harry’s latest words, exploded into a renewed bonfire deep inside her.

“God, I can’t believe you’re real.” Y/N half mutters the words to herself as she scoots towards the edge of the sofa, knees bumping against the front of Harry’s bare calves as he takes a step forward.

With his ring-clad fingers still carding through her hair, Harry guides the girl’s head closer to the tent in his briefs, biting back a chuckle at her comment. God has nothing to do with it.

“I’m real.” He murmurs in a sweet tone. “And now that you know that...what are you going to do?”

Y/N looks up at him through heavy lashes, pressing her trembling lips to the crest of his exposed belly button as a response, dragging damp kisses down his happy trail as she tugs his underwear down his deliciously thick thighs.

“Fuck, that’s it…” The words are strained when they leave Harry’s mouth with a feathery moan, his head throwing back in bliss as he enjoys the teasing actions.

This is always one of his favourite moments, he thinks. The moment his flings-- his girls, as he sometimes affectionately thinks of them, or his boys-- get their lips around him for the first time. Just as mortals fawn over his appearance, they worship his naked body, and his pulsing cock is no exception to that rule. All of his lovers show an eagerness to please him, and Y/N is no different.

When Harry looks back on this moment six months down the road, he’ll curse himself for thinking something so naive, and for believing that Y/N really was no different than anyone else, especially when her smell alone was already enough to send him into a frenzy. But right now, in this moment, she’s just doing exactly what he wants her to. And that’s what he needs.

Y/N slowly wraps her hand around his girth, unable to meet her fingers in the middle as she slowly begins to stroke him.

“You’re so…” She searches her (less, but still a bit) inebriated mind for the right word. Despite hardly having been touched by Harry, her voice is already wrecked. “So pretty.”

The innocuous adjective catches Harry by surprise, but only for a moment before he tugs her hair lightly, stocking the new compliment in the back of his mind for later reflection.

“Give it a little kiss, baby.” He murmurs, the cadence of his voice equal parts soft and dominant. “Show me how pretty you think it is, yeah?”

The request sends a shiver down Y/N’s spine as she complies, watching Harry through thick lashes as she leans forward with lips puckered, gently pressing them to the red and leaking tip of his cock. Another strained moan rolls from his lips as her tongue darts out to carefully collect the precum gathering at his slit.

“That’s a good girl…” The praise that leaves Harry’s mouth is breathless, half whispered as he wraps her hair around his wrist and pulls her forward. “Y’can take a bit more now, dove. C’mon.”

Y/N gingerly takes the head of his cock into her mouth, the underside of his length catching on her bottom lip and earning an elongated hiss from Harry. His own eyes are fluttering as he watches her rub the textured surface of her tongue over him, mewling softly as the taste of his warm precum invades her senses.

The vibrations from the sound of pleasure makes the whites of Harry’s half lidded eyes momentarily tinge blood red as the sensation pinballs up his spine, causing his grip on her roots to tighten. Harry sucks in a deep breath, waiting until he knows his eyes have returned to a more human-like state before drawing her attention back to him as he speaks.

“You look so cute like that.” He coos admiringly, the pads of his fingers careful in massaging her scalp without tangling strands of her hair in his rings. “Y’look like a proper angel with those soft lips wrapped around my cock.”

The filthy comment stokes the fire churning in the pit of Y/N’s stomach as she blinks tears from her eyes. With a stuttering inhale, she tries to carve out a mental foothold in her mind, something to stop her from completely falling into the tension of the atmosphere.

“You taste really good.” She finally whimpers after a moment, the sentence spoken around his prick before she draws him from her mouth. Y/N can see the way Harry’s eyes are glued to the string of saliva connecting his length to her lips, and the uninhibited lustful look almost sends her spiraling completely. Pressing tender kisses up and down his extent, she begins to rub her silky lips along the prominent vein that stretches from his base to the tip.

If she’s going to succumb to the tension, she wants Harry right there beside her.

And from what she can tell, he is. Garbled moans are tearing from his mouth over and over, his large cock twitching within her grasp. When he speaks again, his voice is further from honey than it’s ever been.

“Christ, you’re such a dirty little thing.” Harry growls, raking his hands through her hair once more. “So excited to please, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Y/N whispers the words as she continues to smear kisses along his length, just enough to tease him, but not enough to push him over the edge. There’s a feeling of intense desire rising inside her, not just for her own pleasure, but for his pleasure as well. It’s a new feeling, quite unfamiliar inside her, but then again, why wouldn’t it be? She’s never met anyone like Harry before. She’s never lifted her head to look someone in the eye with their cock at her lips and been so mesmerized by the image of their swollen lips tugged between their teeth, dark eyes hooded with want as they stare back down at her. It’s completely new, and completely everything she’d ever needed.

“Take more, baby. Know you can.” Harry’s words are still growled as he grasps the base of his cock in his large hand, directing it towards her mouth, but pausing just outside of her lips. For a moment, Y/N wonders why he won’t continue, but the quick quirk of his eyebrow raising makes her realize that he’s doing exactly what he did earlier in her doorway.

He’s waiting for an invitation.

A whimpering noise falls out when Y/N opens her mouth wide for him, flattening her tongue and extending it just past her lips so that the textured surface will slide along his expanse as he pushes into her mouth.

A crease appears between Harry’s eyebrows as his face contorts in bliss. “That’s it, darling. Show me how well you suck cock.”

Y/N hums around his length, lifting her hand to replace Harry’s grip, but he grasps her wrist before she can accomplish the task, pushing her hand back down to her thigh and flattening it against the fabric of her pants.

“No hands.” Harry rasps, eyes glinting with dominance. “Just that pretty mouth.”

Despite her vulnerable position, Y/N manages to give half a nod, closing her watering eyes as Harry continues to dive deeper down her throat. She feels the cool touch of his ringed hand against her bulging cheek, his thumb rubbing over the apple of her bone structure in a tender motion that contrasts their actions.

“Look at me.” Harry beckons her gently, but keeps a command in the tone of his voice. When Y/N’s eyes flicker open again, he directs her gaze up to his own as his jade eyes flash darker, pupils dilating ever so slightly.

Despite his very existence being unethical by nature of what he is, Harry doesn’t use compulsion on his partners inside the bedroom (or living room, or car, or wherever else he takes someone for a quick fuck and a bite to eat); he may be a monster, but he’s not a monster. And his mother raised him better than that, even if she didn’t remember doing so. No, if Harry is going to be engaging in a sexual act with anyone, it’ll be something that both parties have consented to while in their right minds.

That being said, he does use his power slightly just to encourage those he spends his nights with to be as honest and free as they’ve ever wanted to be. Meals taste best, he’s found, when his main courses have fully relaxed and unwinded, and Harry is a man-- well, not quite a man, but a being-- of fair play; if he’s going to be taking something from his partners, then he wants them to take something from him, as well. And sometimes humans need a little push to do so.

“You’re going to let go of your inhibitions tonight, do you understand?” Harry speaks in a soothing tone, his voice like a lullaby as he strokes his thumb against Y/N’s skin. “You’re going to do anything you’ve ever wanted to, but been too scared to speak out loud.”

Y/N blinks up at him as her heavy eyelids lift, her own pupils expanding slightly to match his own as Harry’s gentle influence washes over her. Her head jerks in a small nod of agreement, showing the understanding that she can’t quite speak in this position.

Harry rubs over the obvious bulge in her cheek, an imprint of his cock inside her warm mouth. The longer he rests inside her, the more his chest heaves as waves of pleasure begin to lap at the trench of his stomach. The sensation is distracting, and he refocuses himself more intently as a familiar prickling washes across the backs of his eyes. If he doesn’t keep himself in check, his words will be more powerful than he means them to be, and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Don’t be nervous or scared. I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” He continues the speech that he has memorized from how often he’s used it during one night stands, keeping his voice light and level. “You can trust me. Do whatever it is you want, and nothing you don’t. You’re safe with me.”

Y/N nods again, the action softer and fainter than it had been before. Harry can practically see the tension releasing from her shoulders. He drags a ringed knuckle across her cheekbone, admiring the sheen of tears gathering on her waterline as a result of his sheer girth.

“What is it you want then, darling?” He asks cooly, pulling back just a tad to give her enough relief to talk around his prick.

Harry watches as Y/N wrings her hands against her thighs, thinking her words through carefully and deliberately as her lashes flutter at the relaxing sensation of him caressing her heated skin. When she speaks, all previous timidness and hesitation is gone from her voice, replaced with unwavering desire that sends a shockwave down Harry’s spine.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Y/N sounds so sure of herself, so desperate at the request, that Harry almost grips her head and snaps his hips forward the moment the words leave her mouth. However, years of control and restraint squash that instinct before he can even consider giving into it. Instead, he merely pauses his motions as he contemplates the mortal in front of him, reevaluating the girl he had thought would be bashful and reserved for what seems to be the thousandth time that night.

At the pause in his actions, Y/N’s brows pinch and she stares up at Harry with a confused and almost wounded look, eyelids fluttering as if she’s worried that her blunt request had done something to upset him. Harry, remembering the promise he had just made a moment ago, resumes his reassuring motions against her cheek, not speaking again until he feels the human unwind once more.

Once Y/N is leaning into him again, Harry asks the question that’s been spinning in his mind since she first spoke.

“Have you ever had anyone fuck your mouth before?” He asks curiously, despite being certain he already knows the answer.

Y/N rubs her palms flat over her thighs slowly as she gives the predicted answer in a quiet voice. “No. Never.”

“But you want me to do it.” Although his words indicate a question, Harry phrases it like a statement. He wants her to say it again, he realizes, closing his eyes as he revels in the feeling of her tongue massaging the head of his cock. He needs to hear her say it again.

Y/N complies to his unspoken want. “Yes.” She mumbles around him, and the concentration needed to keep her hands pressed to her lap is apparent all over her face. “I want to make you feel good.”

The pounding of Y/N’s heart is so loud that its thump echoes in Harry’s ears. He can see the pulse of her carotid artery in her strained neck, a warm and real reminder that this girl is alive and burning with need for him. Harry lets out a low moan as his mouth begins to fill with venom once again, watering as if he were a human presented with his favourite meal. Without thinking, he lets his fingers drift from her cheek to her neck, feeling the heated hammering rhythm beneath the icy pads.

All Harry wants to do is take a bite, and his fangs ache at the very thought of sinking his teeth into the young woman’s soft flesh, but he knows he has to restrain himself. She’ll taste so much sweeter post-orgasm, after oxytocin is flowing through her veins, deepening her flavour.

“Alright.” Harry gathers himself as he draws his hand from Y/N’s neck, returning his touch to her chin so she’ll look at him again as his voice takes on a persuasive tone (without adding compulsion-- Harry needs her to be completely aware of her actions). “Keep your hands pressed flat to your thighs. And keep your mouth and throat as open as you can, is that understood?”

Y/N gives a small nod, her jaw starting to ache around Harry’s cock in the most fulfilling fashion. Nerves are beginning to set in again, and she can’t help the shiver that tumbles down her spine and settles in her hands as she tightens them to her legs.

Harry frowns ever so slightly at the change in her demeanor. “You’re alright, pet. You know that, don’t you?” He asks, letting his voice shift to a more tender tone for just a moment. “Let yourself let go. I’ll take good care of you.”

With the calming aspect of Harry’s promise ringing in her ears, quieting the pounding of her own heart that echoes in her head like a drum, Y/N follows his suggestions. The young woman takes a deep breath through her nose to focus herself, and she’s so caught up in the moment— in the way he tastes and feels in her mouth, salty and velvety smooth— that she vaguely wonders how she’ll manage to move at all.

Nevertheless, with the help of Harry’s thumb gliding over her chin in reassurance, Y/N begins to bend to his will, her slightly aching jaw relaxing and shoulders unknotting. Gazing up at him with pliant and moony eyes, she waits for her next set of instructions. She has little experience with this ground— save a few porno videos she’d perused out of curiosity— and for some odd reason, she feels that she can put faith in him to guide her through it.

As if he can sense what she’s waiting for, Harry speaks with a voice that floats through the air softly, thick like syrup and just as appetizing. “Lean back against the couch.”

Y/N does so immediately, slumping into the cushions while making sure to keep her back somewhat straight. Her head rests against the surface, more comfortable than she expected to be (perhaps she’d have to leave that as a review on IKEA’s website; “If you’re interested in getting your face fucked by a stranger you met in a club, this couch is perfect!”) as Harry climbs over her, balancing his knees on either sides of her hips. He’s careful not to rest any weight on Y/N, just as he’s careful to grip the hair along the crown of her head securely, but not roughly. Despite his most basic instincts, he refuses to be rough unless she explicitly asks for it.

Going against his default behavior, Harry finds out with every passing second, is easier said than done. It takes every fiber of his being to internally talk himself into being patient as he watches the mortal lap at his cock with a form of drunken need, the tiny whines escaping the back of her throat only increasing his fervor. With a care that’s only developed over centuries, Harry gradually works his hips forward, sinking deeper into her mouth inch by inch, his half-lidded eyes watching every twitch and flicker of her expression to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries.

“S’that alright?” His tone holds the weight of the intense control he’s roping around himself, which tightens with every moan-induced vibration he feels around his length.

Y/N responds with an eager bob of her head, a broken mewl, muffled by his cock, encouraging him to go further.

Harry abides, holding her in place by her locks of hair and slowly sliding his hips forward until the base of his cock taps against her wet chin. His free hand rests beside her ear, twisting the navy blue couch cushion into his fist. It’s the only way to keep himself sane, he thinks, especially with how Y/N is ogling up at him with those big innocent eyes, swirling with alcohol yet still so clear, the skin of her cheeks boiling with heated blood as breaths falter past her nostrils.

The sight of the human girl so open and ready for him would have stopped Harry’s heart if it had a beat.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Harry gets a sudden urge and can’t stop himself from leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the center of her sweaty forehead, right between her brows. Given the nature of his other urges, a tender kiss is one he can let slide. “I’m going to leave your throat so fucking sore.”

The gentle action contrasted with his sinful promise pulls another whine from Y/N’s mouth, quiet and soft and so inaudible that if Harry were human, he might not hear it. And what a shame that would be, he sighs internally, as he tightens his vice-like grasp on her couch cushions, reminding himself not to rip the fragile fabric as he clenches his fist.

Harry holds himself there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her wet and warm throat contracting around him. Y/N’s eyes, which were watering even before she opened herself up like this, release a small salty tear that traces down her cheekbone. Harry releases a hand’s grip on the couch to wipe the teardrop away with a ringed knuckle. Curiosity is what makes him bring the digit to his mouth, letting his tongue lick off the saline droplet.

It’s a strange flavour, Harry decides as he retracts his finger from his mouth. Salty, yes, but there’s a hint of the same underlying flavours that run through blood, depending on someone’s emotional state. It’s rather refreshing.

Not letting himself waste anymore time on thinking about anything except the girl in front of him, Harry shakes himself from his internal thoughts.

“Hold yourself right there for me, darling.” He says lowly before slowly retracting his hips, watching as his spit-slick cock slips from Y/N’s red lips, her lipstick smudged and faded. He keeps pulling back until just the tip rests on her tongue, and he lets himself enjoy the sight for a moment before he begins to thrust forward again. Repeating the same motion a few times, Harry takes careful and measured breaths through his nose before increasing his speed.

Y/N keeps her damp eyes on Harry with every move of his torso, staying as open for him as he requested. The obedience, trust, and desire written all over her face drives Harry mad.

“That’s— fuck, that’s perfect.” His voice drops lower, the tone smooth as liquid silk while he snaps his hips forward again. “Stay just like that for me, yeah? Like a proper good girl.”

There’s something about the simple praise that incites a craving deep in Y/N’s stomach. As Harry bulges in her throat over and over, her eyes roll back into her head at the foreign yet entirely pleasurable experience, and her insides burn with the sensation of him using her. There’s just something so satisfying about feeling him ram into her mouth, the crescent above her upper lip catching on the bristly hairs that sprinkle in a line down the center of his abdomen. Her nose nudges against the trough of his belly button repeatedly, the picture of his jolting fern tattoos— which she hadn’t even noticed until he was down her throat— becoming blurrier with every slam forward.

Harry doesn’t cap his noises of bliss either, and allows vulgar curses and grunts to slip down his tongue freely. Through a clenched jaw and bared teeth, he pants about how well she’s doing and how good she’s taking it, feeding the boiling satisfaction in her veins. She wants to please him. She needs to please him.

“God, look at you.” He begins tugging and pushing her head to match his thrusts, his fangs poking along the inside of his bottom lip as he feels how strong her heart is beating. He can feel the thundering pulse through her mouth, stringing right up his prick and deepening the thirst burning along the back of his tongue. “Taking that cock and loving every single bit of it. You like this? Like it when I use that pretty little mouth to make myself feel good?”

Y/N chokes out a shattered whimper of agreement, sniffling a gasp when his pace speeds up a smidge.

“Fucking hell, you’re filthy. S’always the quiet ones, isn’t it?” Harry rasps, the words flowing from his flushed mouth as he sucks in breaths between phrases.

Although his rings dig into her scalp, Y/N doesn’t alert him of it. If anything, she enjoys the minimal flare of pain the action brings, almost as much as she enjoys the way he gazes down at her with an open-mouthed simper, electricity coursing through the specks of gold around his pupils, head bobbing back and forth along to his steady stride.

“Shy girls like you are just nervous to say what they really want until the right person comes along. Isn’t that right, baby?” Harry can’t help the filthy exclamations spitting from his mouth, and he doesn’t want to. From his first remark, Y/N was hooked on every dirty claim, and if she wants to hear more, who is he to rob her of that? “You were just sitting there all prim and proper, waiting to find someone who could give you what you wanted. Someone who isn’t afraid to fuck you how you like it.”

Y/N’s hands tighten into loose fists in her lap, itching to grab onto the plushness of his hips and drag her fingers up his lean stomach, to feel it contract beneath her fingertips as Harry chases his high. And Harry can see her intention, any pleading she’d normally vocalize funneling into her watery eyes. The way she’s silently begging him to allow her to touch him is bound to dismantle him quickly. Too quickly, if he doesn’t keep himself on track.

Of course, there’s a voice in the back of Harry’s head, his most repressed instinct, telling him to do just that. The voice tells him to quicken his thrusts, push himself down Y/N’s throat as deep as he can, and release in her mouth before lifting her like a rag doll and biting into her neck to satiate the thirst that’s been burning in the back of his throat since he first caught her scent at the bar. But Harry suppresses that instinct far back down inside himself once again before slowly removing his cock from Y/N’s mouth. If he’s going to cum, he wants it to be inside her. It has to be inside of her. And he doesn’t want to be done just yet.

The moment Harry’s prick slips out of her mouth, Y/N gasps, drool slipping from the corner of her lips like the tears from her eyes. Despite her wrecked appearance and the soreness beginning to ache in the back of her throat, there’s a whine of displeasure mixed with her gasps as her glossy eyes track Harry’s movements. “Where—where are you going?”

The human girl’s eagerness for him brings a small yet pleased smile to Harry’s face, and he lets one chilly hand rest on her heated cheek as he climbs down from his position on the couch.

“There’s so much more for us to do tonight, angel.” An amused chuckle sounds from his throat as he straightens himself up. “Did you really think a quick blowie was all I wanted from you?”

Y/N wipes the edge of her mouth, smearing whatever lipstick had been left on her skin after Harry finished. “I would hope not.” She murmurs truthfully, managing to raise her brows in judgement. While she’d normally never sass somebody that easily, especially someone she barely knows, she feels that it’s acceptable given that this stranger had been shoved down her throat moments ago, spewing explicit comments about her without a single issue.

Y/N’s cheeks burn as Harry’s crude words from before run through her mind like an audio recording. She definitely has the right to sass him.

The way Harry grips her tired jaw firmly, however, tilting her chin upwards while leaning down to ghost his cherry lips over her own swollen pair, has her rethinking that within seconds.

Y/N knows that she should be embarrassed that all it takes is a touch to her chin and one kiss to send her back into a submissive state, but she can’t bring herself to care in the moment, especially as a few rogue curls fall across Harry’s forehead and frame the edges of his face. The stray strands give the dominant man a less intimidating appearance. Just less intense, Y/N thinks. Maybe even soft. She’d gotten so caught up in the whirlwind of dirty promises and brazen actions that she had failed to notice that the young man before her is exactly that— a young man. A young man with wild eyes, a strong grip, and a stern hold on her within just a few hours of meeting. But even with the reminder that Harry is around her age, Y/N can see that he carries himself with the confidence and persona of someone much older, hinting that he has much more experience than any normal adult in their twenties would have.

The possibility of where his extensive expertise and skills could apply to makes her stomach flutter.

Y/N thinks she might get lost in the feeling, until a tiny shot of pain snaps her out of her head. Her bottom lip throbs between Harry’s teeth after he’s captured it, his nose smudging along the bridge of her own, a messy action that he somehow makes thoughtful and concise. His eyes are the color of a forest at midnight, and when he speaks, his tone comes out even, yet commanding and assured in the most attractive sense.

“Take off your clothes.”

The order sends a rush of heat to Y/N’s core as her half-lidded eyes flutter, and she feels a pull in her to comply as Harry releases her lip from his teeth. Her hands reach for the hem of her blouse that’s already half-untucked from Harry’s wandering touch, but she pauses, fingers still gripping the sheer fabric.

“Will you—?” Y/N cuts herself off abruptly, tongue licking over the sting in her lip as she rephrases her speech. “I want you to help me.”

The simple request knocks the breath from Harry’s lungs so fast that he’s lucky he doesn’t actually need it to function. It takes him a moment to center himself enough so that he can suck in sharp breath to regain his dominance.

“Do you?” Harry does his best to keep his voice steady as he kinks a brow and leans back from Y/N, strong hands replacing her own at the hem of her shirt. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he pulls her hold away, his fingers resting just over her racing pulse point. “Let go, then. Arms up.”

Once Y/N’s arms are in the air, Harry has no trouble removing her shirt, tossing the delicate fabric to the side before working his fingers around to the band of her pink lace bra. The scent of Y/N’s heated skin is too much for him to resist, all lavender and liquor, and he begins to pepper kisses along her collarbones and neck, making sure his teeth are hidden behind his pillowy lips. The task is easier said than done, especially when Harry can feel the human’s heartbeat throb beneath his touch, but he manages to restrain himself from taking a bite. It’ll come in due time, he knows it. His thirst will be handled, Y/N just needs to be taken care of first.

With another flick of his hand, Y/N’s bra joins her shirt in a puddle on the floor. Now that there are no barriers between Harry and her soft, supple skin, his hands travel to her bare chest, cupping and tweaking and massaging, pulling every sound imaginable out of Y/N as he touches her.

“Harry, I—“ Y/N can barely form a sentence as Harry synchronizes a wet kiss on her neck and a quick tug on her nipple, his lips smirked against her skin. “Oh...”

“What’s the matter, love?” The breathless, incoherent moans leaving Y/N’s mouth make Harry’s smirk widen. “Cat got your tongue?”

Despite the warmth rising to Y/N’s cheeks, she manages to sound indignant as she shoots Harry as much of a glare as she can muster with his hands on her breasts. “Shut up.”

Harry hums in response, sending vibrations down the length of Y/N’s throat. “Mm. I suppose I could use my mouth for something else…”

It’s almost comical how quickly Y/N’s heart rate increases at that comment. It would be comical, Harry thinks, if the pulsing of her neck didn’t excite Harry’s cock the way it does. As much as he pretends otherwise, he needs this as much as she does. Even more, if the dull ache running down the back of his jugular is any indication.

The vampire detaches his mouth from the girl’s neck, promising himself he’ll return there later once he’s properly prepared his dinner. While Y/N’s sweet-smelling blood is his main course of the night, he still has an appetizer sitting in front of him that he has yet to taste.

Harry’s shirt quickly joins the growing stack of clothing on the floor before his trousers do. He allows himself one ghost of a stroke on his cock, still slick with Y/N’s spit, but only to tease himself.

“Lay back down.” He demands, tucking himself back in his boxers before getting to his knees. Y/N watches the movement with hungry eyes, lip trapped beneath her own teeth just as Harry had done a few minutes ago.

“C’mon, love, don’t stop behaving now.” Harry chides her, smoothing his ringed hands over the fabric of her flowy pants before finding the button. “Lay down.”

At the repeat of the command, Y/N obeys him, wordlessly lifting her hips so Harry can tug down her now unbuttoned bottoms. He only gets the material halfway down her thighs before her scent hits him like a fucking truck, and then any semblance of rational thought leaves Harry’s mind completely.

If Y/N’s blood is a finely aged wine with notes of lavender and honey scattered throughout its bouquet, something that deserves to be sipped out of a fine crystal goblet and worshipped, then what lies between Y/N’s thighs is the most delectable tequila Harry has ever had the pleasure of tasting in his two hundred years, her signature honey scent still detectable beneath it all.

Harry’s hands are almost a blur as he reaches back up and hooks his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, tugging them down to meet the waist of her bottoms before pulling both articles off completely and throwing them to the side. He parts her legs just as quickly, and before Y/N can even say anything, his mouth is against her core, sedating his need the only way he can at this moment.

“Oh--!” A squeak of surprise falls from Y/N’s lips as one hand finds Harry’s curls, twisting into them tightly as her other finds her own hair. With her eyes falling closed, she misses the crimson hue that flashes through Harry’s emerald irises with every moan.

Harry’s control is beginning to slip, and he knows that. It would be frustrating, honestly, if it didn’t feel so fucking good. It’s been so long since he’s felt so feral for someone, so desperate— truly desperate— to press himself as close as possible to them, to lap up anything they’ll give him, and that’s all he wants to do right now. Harry’s nose nudges against Y/N’s clit, pulling another searing mewl from her throat as his tongue darts into her entrance. Every one of his heightened senses is filled with Y/N, consumed with every inch of her; her fragrance fogs his mind, her taste coats his tongue, and her soft thighs dimple beneath his grip that keeps her spread. The sensation of her hands tugging at his hair is the only thing keeping him grounded.

Flicking his tongue over her clit once more, Harry revels in the broken sounds spilling from above, audible proof that he’s making her fall apart with his mouth just as much as she did to him. It brings a sense of pride to Harry’s chest-- he doesn’t just take from his partners. He gives in return.

“H-Harry--” Y/N pants his name in a shattered voice, her face screwed up in pleasure as she drags her hand from her hair to her chest, gripping her own breasts in her palm as her chest heaves.

It’s not as though Y/N hasn’t had her fair share of sex, and she’s most certainly had someone go down on her before. The problem, she just manages to think as Harry suctions his lips over her clit, is that it’s never felt like this before.

In this moment, with Harry’s mouth working over her as if she was his last meal, Y/N would give up everything to memorize the sight and sensation of this man on his knees for her. Everything, from the filthy noises that slip from his mouth between movements, to the way his irises darken with every passing moment, indicates that Harry is just as into that scenario as she is. And that’s what it is, really. What sets Harry apart from anyone else she’s ever had. Any other man that’s gone down on her has treated it like a chore, while Harry—

“You’re fucking delectable, y’know that?” He rasps, the vibrations of his words rolling over her core with every phrase. “Like dessert. The sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Y/N drags her hand back up to her mouth, wedging her index finger between her teeth to stifle the borderline embarrassing moans threatening to overflow. “I’m—I’m so close, Harry...you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Mhmm.” Harry hums against her clit in agreement, stroking his tongue along her dripping opening once more before pulling away. “But not right now. You’re going to cum around my cock.”

Although Harry makes it sound like he’s teasing her, taunting her by holding her orgasm off until the very last second, he knows the truth: if Y/N were to cum right now, if her body were to shudder and give into every request Harry’s tongue is pulling from her, then Harry wouldn’t be able to take it. If Y/N were to cum with his head still buried between her thighs, it would only be a fraction of a second before Harry’s teeth would be buried in them instead.

Restraint, he tells himself as he slowly rises from his knees, reaching for Y/N’s face and gripping her cheeks in one hand as he steals a rough kiss from her supple lips. Restraint. Everything will come in due time.

“Wait—” Y/N makes a sound of protest as she falls back from the kiss. Although it’s a struggle for her to form a functioning and coherent thought, she needs to do it. “I— are you clean?”

Harry cocks his head to the side, the blunt and laughable response of “I’m dead, darling.” hanging on the tip of his tongue. He should add that to his list of vampire perks, he thinks. He already caught the worst thing anyone can catch— death— which means STDs and pregnancy scares are the furthest thing from his mind during sex.

Instead of that complicated answer, however, Harry opts for something simpler.

“Yes. Scout’s honour.” He assures her with a quick nod of his head. For the sake of appearances, he poses a question back to her. “What about you? Are you on birth control?”

A flash of relief lights up Y/N’s eyes. “Mhmm. And I’m on the pill, so…” Her cheeks burn beneath Harry’s touch. “We’re, um, we’re good to go.”

A choked laugh sounds from Harry’s throat as he shakes his head, smudging another kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “We’re good to go, are we? I’m glad to hear it.”

All of his teasing is for one purpose and one purpose only: to hear Y/N’s heartbeat spike in intensity and speed. When his comment easily receives the desired reaction, Harry brushes his fingers along the girl’s pulse point as he drifts his lips to her ear, grazing the cartilage with his teeth.

“Bend over.” He murmurs, accent thick as it rings in her ear. “I want you on your hand and knees for me.”

Y/N grips his tattooed shoulder tightly in her hands, kissing him one more time before obeying the directions offered. It takes her a moment to turn over on the couch and situate herself comfortably on her knees, bracing her hands on the back of the cushion as Harry’s strong grip finds her hips.

“You have the prettiest arse.” He smooths his hands over her backside as he speaks, admiring the softness of her skin beneath his calloused palms. “You’d look so pretty covered in marks, wouldn’t you?”

“I-I think so.” Y/N agrees breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at the wild look in Harry’s eyes. He winks at her when he catches her gaze, tapping his fingers against her lower backside before spreading her legs apart more.

“Don’t worry, love. Won’t be doing that to you tonight. Don’t have the patience, honestly.” Harry keeps his tone casual, which is a miracle, Y/N thinks, considering he’s completely stripped himself and is stroking his hard cock as he speaks. The cadence of his voice in contrast with his actions makes her shiver, and the anticipation only crescendos when Harry rubs the tip of his prick against her soaked slit.

“‘M going to start, alright?” Harry’s voice is tight, and he’s barely able to wait for a sound of acknowledgement from Y/N before he begins to part her folds with his cock.

The relief is simultaneously instantaneous and completely out of reach. Yes, the wet and burning heat of her walls squeezing him satisfies the deep pulsing in the pit of his stomach, but it does nothing for the dry heat in the back of his throat. If anything, being so close to her is only a reminder of what he really, truly needs.

Harry forces himself to thrust slowly, to exercise the control he’s usually so good at displaying. Patience, he repeats to himself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Focus on what’s happening in the moment.

And then he bottoms out, his pelvis pressing flat against Y/N’s soft flesh as her spongy walls squeeze him. Y/N lets out a moan so filthy that Harry’s knees buckle and every ounce of restraint disappears from his body.

“Fucking hell--” His voice doesn’t even sound his own as he digs the pads of his fingers into Y/N’s hips, surely leaving bruises that will blossom before the sun rises. He begins to quicken his thrusts as the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, accompanied by the whimpers echoing from Y/N’s lips and the grunts falling from his own. With every stroke, Y/N’s fragrance fills the air more and more, pulling him further into a cloud of lust and hunger with every ragged breath he sucks through gritted teeth. When he sees the throbbing of Y/N’s veins in her neck, flashing at him like a signal, teasing him to the point of no return, Harry’s instincts grow louder, overshadowing any ounce of control he has left.

He grips the girl’s shoulder roughly, tugging her body up from its bent position to press flat against his sweaty inked chest. Once she’s in the desired position, Harry’s hand travels to her neck, squeezing just enough to win a choked moan from Y/N’s lips.

“Fuck, Harry--” She whines breathlessly, arching her back as she reaches to tangle her own fingers in his knotted curls. Her harsh tug pulls another groan from Harry’s swollen lips as they hover just over her neck, brushing against her hot skin with every ram. Her smell is so intoxicating, he could just--

And then he feels Y/N’s own lips on his neck and his senses overwhelm.

Even before Harry was turned, he had been a creature centered around touch. Of course, in the 1800s, touch was something that was fairly forbidden between anyone who was less than married, save for a rare dance at a ball with a beautiful girl. The first time Harry had been touched in this way, it had been by a young woman he has since tried so hard to block out of his memory. It had set his skin on fire, a feeling that never quite went away, even after her fingers had left his wrist that very first day. It was like she’d left an imprint on him, a candle burning in the window of his heart so that she’d be able to find her way back whenever she wanted to. And then her last touch had burned him more than he ever thought possible. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the whitehot pain as she cradled his head between her palms, still hear her soft, accented voice in his ear, reassuring him that everything would be alright, the sick sound of his own neck snapping--

He just doesn’t let people touch him there. Ever.

Harry’s hand tightens around Y/N’s throat, just for a moment, before guiding her kisses from the sensitive area to his collarbones. The memory still seems just as fresh and poignant in his mind as the day it happened, with time healing nothing, and Harry has to remind himself that he’s not that person anymore. He’s different now. He’s the one in control.

“I’m close, Harry--” Y/N’s sweet voice is a welcome reminder of where he is, cutting through his thoughts like a bird song cuts through a quiet morning. “Shit, I’m so close.”

“I know.” Harry growls the words into her ear as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along her jugular. He can smell it on her, how her blood is sweetening with every passing moment, like a fruit ripening for picking. “Cum for me, pet. C’mon. Y’can let go.”

Y/N takes his words to heart, throwing her head back onto Harry’s muscled shoulder as her orgasm builds to its peak. Harry can feel it-- how she contracts around him, how her juices drip down his cock and onto his thighs, how her pulse quickens beneath his lips.

And then Y/N cries out as she falls over the edge, Harry’s self control crumbling the moment he feels it, and the vampire sinks his teeth into the supple flesh of the mortal’s neck.

Y/N’s cry of surprise quickly turns into a moan as Harry’s venom begins to race through her bloodstream, the chemical hormones calming and sedating her in order to allow him to drink as much as he’d like. Normally, Harry waits until his partners are fast asleep, tired from their activities, but Y/N’s scent is so overpowering and consuming that, honestly, it’s a wonder he’s managed to keep himself together this long. And the moment Y/N’s blood washes over his tongue, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be so controlled again.

There are flavours that he predicted: honey, lavender, vanilla, a hint of the alcohol she poured back earlier, all sugared by the orgasm currently coursing through her body. But there’s something else underneath, too. A depth of flavour that he can’t quite place. Something he’s never experienced before. From the first taste, Harry knows he’s hooked. Every drink he’s had before this moment has paled in comparison, and he knows he’ll spend the rest of his life combing the Earth before he finds another that could match .

“H-Harry…” A gentle whimper falls from Y/N’s mouth as the waves of her climax finally recede. “Feels so good.”

Harry hums against her skin as he quickens his thrusts. As satisfying as drinking from the young woman is, now that his thirst is somewhat quenched, the need for his own orgasm increases.

“You’re gonna make me cum, y’know that?” Harry breathes against her skin, sucking one last gulp down before running his tongue over the bite. He’ll properly heal her once she’s asleep, but for now, the venom will form a temporary seal over the bite. And, honestly, Y/N appears to be too caught up in her own pleasure to notice the new mark on her neck. “Squeezing me so fucking tight...taking my cock like the good girl you are…”

Y/N’s head lulls back onto Harry’s shoulder, her hot breath panting in his ear as she begins to reach the point of overstimulation. “Please, Harry...want you to cum…”

“Yeah?” Harry pants roughly, licking his red-stained lips as his pelvis snaps against her. “You want me to cum for you? Want me to--fucking--give you--Christ--”

Harry usually pulls out before cumming, but his orgasm crashes over him so suddenly that he doesn’t have the chance. Instead, he buries himself to the hilt, throwing his head back in ecstasy, mouth wide open as a deep groan vibrates in his chest while thick ropes spill inside Y/N.

Even with his supernatural stamina, Harry is exhausted after he comes down from his high. It takes him a moment to collect himself enough to pull out, exhales hot and heavy in Y/N’s ear as he gathers his thoughts for his next move.

“Where--” He pants between his words as he watches the girl’s eyes flutter. “D’you have a cloth, or…?”

“There’s some--some paper towels in the kitchen.” Y/N nods her head to the right, her own chest still heaving with exertion.

Harry nods quickly, sponging his stained lips to her shoulder before climbing down from the couch. He hurriedly paces into the kitchen and locates the napkins, ripping off a few squares and wetting it under the sink before he returns.

“Bend over.” He says again, but the tone of the phrase is entirely different than it was earlier. He’s not desperate with thirst or lust anymore, but instead has settled into his role of providing aftercare.

Y/N, however, still has the same obedient reaction, and folds herself over the backrest of the couch, forehead braces against the cushions as Harry quickly but carefully cleans up the cum dripping from between her thighs.

“You’re so polite, y’know that?” She can’t help but giggle to herself, glimpsing back at him from between her parted legs. “Cleaning up the mess you made.”

Harry’s chuckle matches her own as he gives her one final wipe and a jesting smack to the ass, returning to toss the paper towel away. His voice carries from the other section of the flat. “S’only fair. I was raised right.”

Y/N hums in her throat in response as she climbs down from the couch, soreness already beginning to settle into her limbs in the most delightful way. She crosses her arms over her chest, still self-conscious despite Harry literally spreading her open only moments ago.

“Are you, um--” Her voice cracks, bringing a new wave of heat to her face as she clears her throat. “You can stay the night. If you’d like.”

Harry, who has ducked back into the living room area and is reaching for his discarded top on her floor, raises an eyebrow as he picks up the pastel blue t-shirt and turns it right side out. The puppy drawing smiles up at him ironically. “Yeah? You sure?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He can see his teeth marked all across the silky skin. “It’s late. And I normally like to have a bit of a cuddle with someone after they cum inside me.”

A surprised snort sounds from Harry’s chest. “I suppose I can’t refuse that.” He says in understanding entertainment, holding out his tee to her as an offering. “Here. If you’d like to cover yourself…”

Y/N accepts the article gratefully, pulling it over her exposed body. The shirt falls just past her bum, covering her enough that she can let her arms drop to her sides. She likes the way his clothes fit her. “Thank you. Do you want something to sleep in...?”

“I prefer going bare, actually.” Harry says in a cheeky tone, running a jeweled hand through his sex-mussed curls as he smirks. “Much more comfortable.”

Y/N laughs quietly, shaking her head in half disbelief, half amusement. “Of course you do.” She says with a roll of her eyes, holding out a hand for Harry to take. “C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m fucking exhausted.”

Harry sews his fingers between her own, replying with a cheeky squeeze and a smug tone. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Y/N laughs again, but she doesn’t mind the cockiness behind Harry’s quip. If anything, the banter reassures her. She’d take a smug reply over awkward post-hookup silence any day.

And maybe if the lingering buzz from the alcohol wasn’t fogging her eyes, and maybe if the intense aftermath of endorphins wasn’t clouding her mind, and maybe if she wasn’t distracted by how strangely comfortable it feels to joke around with Harry, Y/N would have noticed. She would have noticed it the instant she took his hand within her own. She would have noticed it when she had stepped into the hallway and gently tugged him after her playfully, the dim lightning from the single lamp in the living room coffee table casting a shadow across his figure and over the handsome features on his face. Maybe, if it wasn’t for all of that, she would have noticed that the jade of his irises was long gone, replaced by an ominous red hue with the same dangerous glint that had been present at the bar. She would have noticed that this time around, it carried very different intentions. She would have noticed how, after she climbed into her own bed after Harry, after he pulled her into his strong arms, and after she had laid her tired head onto his chest, that there was no heartbeat to greet her ears.

But she doesn’t notice it. And it only takes a moment for her eyes to drift shut in blissful ignorance, lulled by the sound of Harry’s breathing. Only Harry’s breathing.

///

It takes fifteen minutes for Harry to realize that he didn’t really think this through.

At the moment, when Y/N asked him to stay over, and he was still high on his last orgasm and on the lingering taste of her blood along the arch of his tongue, it seemed like a good idea. He could stay the night, he thought. He, just like she had mentioned about herself, was fond of cuddling after sex, and it wasn’t often that he got to have that. Perhaps it would be a nice way to cap off the night, he’d rationalized, and so he’d allowed the mortal girl to lead him to her bed for entirely innocent reasons (innocent only because they’d finished everything sinful in her living room).

And then Y/N fell asleep on Harry, and he remembered why he doesn’t ever spend the night at a one night stand’s place.

Harry is bored.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t sleep, because he does. Stephanie Meyer got that wrong in those insipid books that have haunted Harry since 2008, but that wasn’t surprising, considering that Harry doesn’t sparkle in the sun, either. Granted, if he steps into daylight without his lionhead ring, his skin will blister and burn until it falls off his body, but he won’t sparkle, and frankly, he’s offended that everyone thinks that he will. He also can’t read minds, although he wouldn’t mind it if he could. And he does need sleep. Just not as often as a regular mortal.

With increased stamina means increased everything, including how long Harry can go without sleeping. Although he slept more often when he was first turned out of habit, Harry finds that he can go two or three weeks, or even a month, without having to rest his body and mind. And even when he does finally manage to fall into a peaceful state, it’s only for a few hours before he wakes up involuntarily. It’s just as well. He doesn’t like to be unaware for that long. It’s in his nature to be alert, and he likes it that way. And because he doesn’t need to spend eight hours unconscious every night, Harry finds that he gets a lot more done in his life.

Except now, when he’s stuck under the body of a fragile and depleted human.

When Harry falls into bed with a partner, he’s normally itching for them to fall asleep so he can sink his fangs into their necks and take what he wanted all along. And then, after his thirst and libido are both satiated, Harry will climb out of bed, dress himself in whatever outfit he’d dragged himself to the club in, and make his way back to his condo before the sun begins to rise on the horizon. Simple as that.

But even he has to admit, he thinks as he ghosts his fingers down the barely healed mark on Y/N’s neck, that he’d gotten a little out of control tonight. He’d been so carried away by her touch, her sensations, her scent, that he’d lost his usual patience and bit her mid thrust. Thankfully, Y/N had been too caught up in her own orgasm to notice, and while Harry couldn’t deny that the heightened pleasure of her blood rolling down his throat as he slid his cock in and out of her hot cunt is something he thinks he’ll remember for eons, Harry knows that he was lucky to have gotten away with such a risky move.

Now that the young woman’s breath has completely evened out, Harry can evaluate the damage he’d done during his lapse in composure. In all honesty, he’s relieved to find that it isn’t as messy as he had feared. While he’s usually careful enough to make nearly surgical incisions into his partner’s flesh, he’d bitten Y/N with reckless abandon, too caught up in his pleasure to think about being neat. However, when he finds that the messiest thing about the bite is the few smears of blood still staining her skin, the anxiety— which Harry hadn’t even known was curled around his stomach like a vice— slips away. His venom had slowly begun to heal the bite mark already, but Harry knows that the only way it’ll be completely gone in the morning will be for Y/N to ingest his blood.

Allowing a human to ingest vampire blood was always a risk; after all, if they died with it in their systems, they would begin their second life a few mere hours after the first one ended. Despite that contingency, Harry had always rationalized the decision by telling himself it was better than the alternative, which was draining the human until they were dead. After all, a corpse doesn’t care about a few bite marks on their body. The police, on the other hand, do care about that, which was reason enough for Harry to take the time to heal anyone he drinks from. And, in all honesty, healing those he hurts is almost therapeutic for him. It’s a reminder that, despite his leftover humanity being barely present, he still has some nonetheless.

It’s those thoughts that are flowing through Harry’s mind when he carefully shifts under Y/N, drawing his arm free enough that he can carefully brush the human’s hair away from her supple skin. He leans down slowly, brushing his nose along the pulsing of Y/N’s neck before dragging his tongue along her warm skin. The taste of the few lingering streaks of blood incite a new burn in the back of Harry’s throat, a reminder of the sweet elixir that runs through the mortal girl’s veins. It takes all of Harry’s newly returned self-control to stop himself from creating a fresh bite next to the older one. Bringing a jewelled hand to his mouth, Harry lightly pricks his index finger on one of his pronounced fangs, hardly feeling the breaking of his icy skin in his mouth. He squeezes his finger tip with his thumb after pulling the digit from his teeth, watching with darkening eyes as a drop of midnight crimson blood beads on the end of his finger.

Y/N’s mouth is partially open already, hot breath falling from her unconscious lips with every movement of her chest, but Harry still grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger gently, nudging down her jaw until he can see her tongue. He pauses then, realizing how similar the sight is to how he had seen her an hour earlier. The memory of Y/N on her knees as she begged Harry to fuck her mouth sends a rush of electricity down his spine, but he shakes his head free of the thoughts before he can get carried away. He’d had his fun with the poor girl, he reminds himself, half wistful and half chastising. He can’t allow himself to take anything more from her. It’s his turn to give her something for all that she had gifted him.

With her mouth now fully open, Harry slowly slides his index finger along Y/N’s pink tongue, watching as his blood stains it red. He releases her chin from his grip as he does so, dragging his fingers from her jaw to her hair. Worrying that the mortal will begin to stir at the iron taste on her tongue, Harry figures that a soothing touch will be the best way to ensure that she’ll stay asleep. Once his grip strays from her chin, however, Y/N’s mouth slowly drifts closed, enveloping his ringed index finger in her cushiony lips. He then feels a gentle yet constant suction that tells him that Y/N is sucking his finger, just as she sucked something else earlier, and Harry nearly loses what little sanity he has left.

There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him that he should shift away from Y/N. If he had any more humanity, he’d peel away from her now, quickly dress himself in his abandoned clothes, and slip out her front door before she even notices. If Harry had an ounce of selflessness, he’d do it. But in this moment, all he can think about is how warm the young woman’s mouth is, how her smell is so sweet that Harry thinks he could get cavities just from inhaling her fragrance, and how fucking wonderful it feels to have her silky lips wrapped around his finger; it’s like even unconscious, her mind wants him as much as he wants her.

And so Harry stays in bed, listening to Y/N’s breathing, watching as the bite he gave her fades to a small bruise, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest tell him she’s deep in sleep in a way that Harry will never be again. The thought nearly saddens the vampire when he finally manages to pull his finger from Y/N’s mouth, smudging an impulsive kiss at the corner before he can stop himself. Harry remembers how lovely sleeping next to someone after sex felt when he was human. Of course, he’d always found himself in the same position Y/N would come to find herself in the next morning, with mysterious bruises scattered along her skin. But that caveat side, Harry had rather enjoyed sleep when he was human. And if he could sleep, then he would have something to distract himself from both the boredom of the quiet night and the gentle throbbing of his cock as Y/N shifts against him.

Harry’s eyes flit around Y/N’s room for the first time since she’d pulled him inside. The area is small, but decorated in a way that makes it seem cozy rather than claustrophobic. Her bed is nudged into the corner against the wall, covered in a mis-matched set of plain olive green sheets and a paisley-printed comforter that suggests their appropriate accompaniments are between washes. The bed is stout and close to the ground, hunkered down in a red oak wooden frame that is sanded and scratched in some places, making Harry come to the conclusion that it was probably thrifted. He likes that; he’s a fan of thrifting himself, which might seem contradictory considering the borrowed t-shirt Y/N is currently inhabiting is a sixty dollar Marc Jacobs piece. But at certain times, it’s the truth. Second hand shops hold a lot of neat stuff that humans tend to take for granted; they call it trash, whereas Harry deems it vintage treasure.

The walls are built of large bricks, covered in glossy creme paint on two panels and a cool grey on the opposite sides. The entrance to the room is a frosted glass sliding door with wallpaper strips lining its edges, the print of the detailing being messy doodles of different colored eyeballs. It’s cute in an indie sort of way. It screams California newborn.

The roof is a popcorn ceiling and Harry nearly gags in utter disgust, but manages to stifle it. It’s not like she can control that— not everyone can compel themselves a bachelor pad the way he had— and she’s lucky to have even found an affordable apartment this decent, especially in such a popular city. And she decorated the space pretty well, he’ll give her that much. Lots of antique knick-knacks, a few picture frames of family and friends littered around random surfaces, and a tapestry of what appears to be a hilled valley during a sunrise extended across the largest wall. The colors of the sky in the image are a mixture of dark purples, drunken blues, mellow oranges, and buttery yellows, and Harry has conflicting feelings about the article. Bluntly put, tapestries are stupid in his eyes. They’re trashy and hipster, which he’s grown to despise. But the photo Y/N’s drapery depicts is calming and pretty, so he’ll let it slide. At least it’s not one of those godforsaken dream-catchers.

He cranes his attention further along the other side of the room, noticing there’s an entire wall of bookshelves, stacked to the brim with a wide variety of genres. Harry’s eyes land on a few familiar titles, surprised by the contrast of topics lining the mantles, eyebrows raising in pleasant shock. He thinks that maybe the choices in novels can gain back the bit of respect he’d lost for her as a result of the tapestry and popcorn ceiling. He’ll think on it.

Y/N suddenly shifts against him again, and he’s reminded that he can’t get up to pick out a book. His gaze flickers to the plant-lined window sill and then the small nightstand, searching for anything within his reach that could occupy him for the next few hours. A halfway read novel discarded somewhere close, perhaps? A magazine? Some sort of video game system that he could play quietly until the sun rises?

It doesn’t take long for Harry’s search to come up empty. Apparently, Y/N’s bedroom has a place for everything, and everything is in its place. It’s no matter, Harry sighs to himself, wrapping his arms tighter around the girl sound asleep on his chest. He’ll just have to count Y/N’s breaths and heartbeats until dawn.

///

When Y/N wakes up the next morning, she’s unsurprised to find two things: a stiffness in her limbs, and an empty bed.

The former, she knows, is a sore reminder of the previous night’s activities, and how she’d allowed a complete stranger to use her however he wanted. Blood rushes to her cheeks as the night comes back to her in flickers: how Harry had kissed her, how she’d begged him to fuck her mouth, how he’d worked her over until she couldn’t take it anymore. If the aching in her thighs is proof enough, Y/N knows that it was some of the best sex she’s ever had, which may be why the latter observation of Harry already being gone sparks a new ache in her chest.

Still, Y/N didn’t expect anything different; although she’d asked the man to stay the night, he hadn’t promised her anything about the morning, and she can’t exactly blame him. After all, a one night stand is just that: one night. A morning is never promised.

After Y/N manages to climb out of bed with wobbly legs, she evaluates herself in the mirror hanging on the back of her closet door. Her hair, of course, is a rat’s nest, and although she attempts to tame it with her fingers and a scrunchie from her bag on the floor, Y/N knows that it’ll take a long, steaming shower and lots of conditioner to detangle the mess. A hot shower will probably be the only way to quell the throbbing of her muscles, she thinks, stepping closer to the mirror to examine her body. At the sight of bruises littered along her skin when she pulls up Harry’s blue t-shirt, Y/N’s mouth falls open, and her eyes widen as she examines the purple marks.

There’s a few scattered along her hips and thighs, small little indigo dots that could easily double as fingerprints. Y/N is certain that if Harry were here, his fingers would match the marks perfectly. And now that her hair is up, Y/N spots a mark along her neck. This bruise is much more pronounced than the others, and Y/N can almost make out the shape of individual teeth dotting the edge of the purple welt. Through her alcohol-muddled memories, Y/N can remember a moment where Harry bit down on her neck as their orgasms washed over each other. Remembering almost brings back that pleasure again, and the phantom feeling distracts her so much that she nearly misses the unmistakable sound of her kitchen cupboards opening.

By the time she pulls on a pair of cotton shorts to cover her bruised thighs and opens the sliding door of her bedroom, Harry’s already managed to figure out her coffee maker. Standing in front of the counter with his bare back to her (Y/N does her best not to focus on it-- he’s all creamy skin and defined muscles, and if she thinks about it too much, she’ll go insane), Harry whistles quietly under the sound of the percolating beverage, his tattooed arms reaching for a mug from the cupboard. Y/N watches as he picks out a blue mug she’d bought last year at Barnes & Noble, a small part of her secretly pleased that he chose her favourite out of all options.

“Good morning.” She says with a small smile, walking slowly (and a bit awkwardly) into the kitchen.

Harry’s whistling stops as he cranes his neck just enough to glance at her over his shoulder, his cheeks dimpling in greeting. “Morning, love. How’d you sleep?”

“Really good, actually, but that’s to be expected, given how exhausted I was.” Y/N opens the fridge to retrieve her milk carton, setting it down on the counter next to the two mugs Harry has picked out. “What about you?”

The corner of Harry’s lips twitch once, and if Y/N hadn't already been gazing at his lips in want, she wouldn’t have caught the movement. “Like a baby.”

The beeping of the coffee pot interrupts the small conversation, and Harry reaches for it automatically, filling the two mugs with the freshly steaming liquid. “Do you take cream and sugar?”

Despite Y/N opening the cupboard above her, Harry manages to snag the sugar bowl before she can. “Milk and sugar, yeah. And you don’t have to do that.” Y/N says, watching as Harry spoons sugar into a mug for her before grabbing the milk carton.

“I know I don’t have to, but I figured I should.” Harry gives a quick shrug of his shoulders as he lightens the drink with milk, leaving his own mug completely black. “Thought you might be a bit sore after last night.”

Harry can practically hear the blood rushing to Y/N’s cheeks, and the dull ache in the back of his jugular flares up as she reaches for her coffee mug, her smell washing over him as she moves closer. He grasps his own mug, lifting it to his lips in an attempt to quell the thirst in him with a less satisfying alternative.

“I, um,” Y/N stutters over her words for a moment, taking a sip of the hot coffee as an excuse not to talk while she collects herself. “I’m a little sore, yeah. But nothing too bad, and certainly not sore enough that I can’t make coffee. Or breakfast.”

Harry pauses with his mug half raised to his strawberry lips. “Breakfast?”

“I could make us breakfast, if you’d like.” Y/N swallows hard, her throat thick as she speaks carefully. “I make pretty good pancakes. Blueberry lemon. My grandma taught me how to make them.”

“They sound delicious.” Harry takes another gulp of coffee, the high temperature not seeming to bother him in the slightest, before setting the half full cup back down on the counter. “But I should get going.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Y/N speaks in a tight voice, her head moving in a quick nod as she sets her own coffee down. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, go change, so you can have your shirt back--”

“Why bother to go somewhere? It’s not like it’s something I haven’t seen before.” A cheeky grin pastes itself onto Harry’s face, and Y/N fights back her embarrassment with a roll of her eyes.

“Shut up and give me a minute.”

By the time Y/N exits her room with the garment in hand and one of her favourite sweatshirts providing her with a bit of modesty, Harry is already waiting by the front door. She hands him the article of clothing, trying to not let her eyes follow his every move as he slips the shirt over his toned chest and down his lean stomach, pulling his pearls and cross necklace out from beneath the fabric.

“Thanks.” He says, fixing his hair after he finishes adjusting the tee into the waistband of his slacks, shrugging his cropped blue and creme plaid jacket over his broad shoulders. “Your apartment is really cute, by the way. I like the wallpaper decal on the sliding bedroom door. And the colours all work really nice together.

“Uh, thanks?” Y/N says slowly, and the confusion must be apparent on her face because Harry once again has a grin on his face, like he’s the only one in on a secret.

“That’s why you invited me back here last night, remember? To look at your apartment?” He prompts, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his tattooed arms across his chest. “Unless that was all a ploy to get in my pants.”

“Maybe it was.” Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back the soft smile threatening its way onto her face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Harry slinks his head to the side as he appraises the unsuspecting mortal in front of him. Her messy hair that he’d tangled his fingers into the night before is pulled away from her heated face, exposing the healed bite mark on her neck. Her lips are still a little swollen from how he tugged on them with his teeth, and Harry remembers how careful he had to force himself to be to make sure he didn’t break her skin. Y/N shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and the movement is just awkward enough that Harry can tell she’s sore from how he bent her over the couch and fucked her, and he knows that it shouldn’t send a shiver of pleasure down his spine, but it does.

“Yeah. It worked.” He murmurs, reaching for the doorknob as he makes his final goodbye. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. Really, it was. I had a wonderful time.”

“So did I.” Y/N smiles shyly at him, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “It was fun.”

Harry nods, and then he can’t stop nodding, and then before he knows what he’s doing, his mouth seems to move of his own accord. “You know, since I’m not taking you up on your offer for breakfast, would you allow me to give a counter offer?”

Y/N’s eyes perk up with curiosity as she responds in a careful voice. “Uh, sure?”

“Can I see your phone real quick?” Harry asks, holding out a ring-clad hand expectantly.

Y/N doesn’t hesitate before retrieving her phone from her sweater pocket, unlocking it and placing it in Harry’s cool hand as requested. A small spark of hope ignites in her stomach as she watches him open her contacts.

“Here.” Harry says after a moment, handing her back the phone with a smile of satisfaction. “I put a disco ball next to my name. Thought it fit, since we met at a club and all.”

“It does fit.” Y/N agrees as she looks down at the new contact in her phone. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

“Call it. Text it. Use it to let me know when you want more interior decorating advice.” Harry says snidely, watching with faint amusement as a sheepish look that washes across Y/N’s face. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Of course.” Y/N repeats back to him, her voice matching his teasing tone. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

Harry flashes her one more grin, his teeth seemingly glinting in the morning sunlight that shines through the window. “Yeah. You will.”

And as the vampire trots down the stairs of the human’s apartment complex, regaining the lighthearted whistling he’d been indulging earlier, he finds himself truly hoping that she’ll put his number to good use.

2K notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Latibule

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks & hypochondria, adult language, eventual SMUT

Words: 9790

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: hi. this is my first real foray into the world of Haikyuu!! & i’m so excited to branch into this fandom! if this is your first time reading my stuff imma warn you, i take things slow, so expect some slow burn.

this will be a multi-chapter fic with eventual NSFW/18+ only content. i will post warnings for each update. i’ll also link other chapters on this page and any other pages that come up, so keep in mind that there will be edits to links as things progress - i wasn’t planning on this being anything more than a one-shot, but this first exploration of Sakusa’s character turned into a monster & i wanna really hone in on that sweet, sweet build up.

big, huge shoutout to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito for their edits and suggestions. y’all are amazing and i love you both so much, this fic wouldn’t be what it is without the two of you.

Latibule /lat-i-bule/ noun a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort

pt. i: an opening

[ pt. ii: four set ] ||

It’s a quiet coffee shop.

He likes that about it. He likes it almost as much as the simple fact that he can tell what day of the week it is by the smell of the disinfectant and bleach that’s being used behind the counter.

There’s a strange comfort to this place’s consistency and Kiyoomi Sakusa likes to linger here, propping his MSBY issued volleyball bag beside his usual table. He’s already placed his coffee order with the cheerful man who guards the cash register, watching as his paper cup is marked with a fresh sharpie and placed on the bartop, beside the elbow of that barista who always attentively turns to wash her hands before making each new order.

He had stumbled upon the shop his senior year of college and he’s haunted it ever since, content to sip on a smooth cortado as he watches over the latest plays from the MSBY games, mapping out his overestimations, his successes, and his flukes in his notebook– carefully lined kanji listing out what worked and what needs some extra practice. The caramel sweet flavor of the ristretto shots always helps to relax him, his broad shoulders lowering, the ache of self-induced tension and overworked muscles easing as his drink cools between his fingers, finally sinking fully into the plush leather seat of his clean chair.

The young woman, he should know your name, but he’s never caught a proper glimpse of your name tag, because you’re always moving, gives him a familiar lifting of smooth lips and places his completed drink on the handoff plane. You know his personal preferences well enough that you’re already moving the caddy of lids and cardboard sleeves forward, so he can select his own from the neatly stacked row. He gives you a cursory nod and his calloused fingertips pull the frothy beverage into his hands, cupping the curved sides and taking a deep drag of air through his masked nose, inhaling the bright smell of fresh coffee.

And…vines…or is it a tangy pine?

There’s something else that’s tickling his senses, and he blinks toward you, dark brows knitting together, a misplaced curl of inky hair brushing against his forehead, trying to make sense of the smell. His chin lifts and his head tilts, eyes watching your polished movements as you move onto the next drink in line. It’s definitely got some floral notes, but it’s not cloyingly sweet, like honeysuckle or gooseberry–no, it’s got some kind of balmy spice to it. It returns when you move closer and he swears he can taste summer when you shift back.

Odd.

When you look up at him again, he’s already stepping away, his running shoes squeaking across the slate tiles, making his way back to his bag and table. The aroma of your perfume is half forgotten when he cracks his laptop open, squirting some hand sanitizer across his chapped palms before he starts to clack his fingertips across the dark keys. He needs to get more lotion; he thinks as the sterile solution cools between his splayed fingers, this weather always dries his skin out.

The next time he comes in he spies you at the back of the shop, jotting something down in a large binder before kneeling behind the counter, returning with a sparkling, grated drain top. The white gleams under the accented lighting and he watches as you thumb at the paint, denoting a splotch of rust that rests under the dip of the metal. You return the cover to the ground and immediately twist to the hand washing sink that rests behind the bar, lathering up some dispensed soap and methodically stroking from the tips of your fingers to your wrists. A steady puff of steam is rising around you as he places his order–

[ a oat milk smoothie, with an extra scoop of protein powder, chia seeds, turmeric, kale, cucumber, dash of dates for sweetener ]

and by the time he’s paid and padding toward his usual spot, you’re finishing up, yanking a few disposable paper towels from the overhead dispenser and gingerly drying your damp hands.

He’s seen you wash your hands plenty of times before, but he finds himself distractedly following your movements this afternoon as he waits for his order and his computer to finish booting up. You catch his obsidian eyes when you turn around and give him a brief smile; a flash of teeth peeking through your lips before you move back to your binder. You jot down a few more notes as you move onto the fridges that sit under the countertops, pulling and prying at the gaskets that line the doors of the whirring chillers, speaking softly to a fellow employee, pointing out the missed stains and chipped flecks of ice that like to hide within the folds of the protective plastic.

You’re not overbearing in your coaching, keeping your tone even and friendly, focusing on what can be done going forward, rather than lingering on the ‘what if’s’ and ‘why wasn’t’ of the situation.

Practical, efficient, thorough with your work, and careful with your craft.

Those descriptors float to the forefront of his mind as he takes his smoothie from the barista that’s standing beside you. He lets his gaze hold against your half leaning form, watching the lead tip of your pencil mark over the stark red checklist that you’re working your way down.

He’s not sure why he’s so focused on you. He’s never thought much about you. You’ve been someone that exists in the background, part of his routine to be sure, but he justifies that your attention to detail is likely the reason why he prefers this shop to the dozens of other coffee houses that litter the main street by the MSBY training facilities and stadium. Your head shifts, and he can tell you can feel his gaze, so he swiftly plucks up his icy cold cup, his nose involuntarily trying to seek out that perfume you’d been wearing the other day.

Strange. His brow furrows, and he hunches into his sports jacket, walking back to his chair and his glowing computer. He can’t smell it today. Maybe you’re too far away, or perhaps you’d forgotten to put it on before coming in.

Pity. He’d liked it.

“Running a little late today, I see,” your voice snaps him out of his stupor, onyx eyes lifting to rest against your open expression.

“Kind of,” he replies blandly, his deep cadence muffled by the pull of his mask.

“Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be late! Want me to push your drink to the front of the queue? I’ve got the power to do that, you know,” you tease, tilting your head as a mischievous grin settles over your quirked lips. Kiyoomi blinks impassively down at you and shakes his head. How would he even reply to something like that? You were joking, right? You must be. And if you weren’t, the people who are clustered around the handoff plane would certainly realize that he was being given his drink first, clearly ahead of all of theirs, and they’d probably toss him a few disgruntled stares or mouthy jabs, and likely accuse you of playing favorites.

Wait. Favorites?

Does he count as a ‘favorite’ here? He looks away, lips drooping into a pursed line. You’ve always been…nice…but there’s no way he’s a favorite of yours. He’s hardly spoken to you in the year and a half that he’s been coming here. But is that all it takes? Just take up space in the cafe a few times a week and get special treatment?

No. You must be joking.

All the same, your jovial tone and that welcoming smile is a little intriguing.

He shuffles closer to the heat of the espresso machines, easily lifting his head over the lip of the bronze metal, watching you. You’re looking down now, fingers gripping the dark handle of the portafilter, holding it under the buzzing grinder to gather a fine sprinkle of dusky espresso grounds into the waiting basket. Then, you lift a lustery tamp to the heaping mound and press expertly against the delicate remains of the arabica, packing them to an even level before clamping the filter under the display of the machine. When you flick the switch that activates the group head you must sense his stare and lift your eyes to his, eyelashes momentarily fluttering against your cheeks when you spy his unabashed observations of you.

For a second, your hands falter, trapped within the unexpected intensity of his curious gaze, and you pat blindly for the cup that’s sitting to the right of your curled arms, embarrassingly disarmed by his transparent focus. But once your grip wraps around the waiting plastic, it seems to ground you and you let out a huffing chuckle, eyes crinkling up at his half obscured face.

“I’m only kidding about moving your drink up, don’t worry, I won’t get you in trouble. Besides, it’s against our policy. First come, first serve and whatnot,” you assure him, halting the stream of water that’s pouring the carefully timed flow of espresso into the clear shot glass that’s waiting against the gleaming metal of the drip tray.

“You’re busy today,” he notes, jerking his curly head toward the gaggle of college students sprawled across some of the bigger tables, their laughing voices and overly loud conversations easily drowning out the hum of lofi jazz that’s playing from the recessed speakers.

“Ah, yeah, finals are coming up for a lot of us that go to the university. I know my classes are starting to gear up for that last push and sometimes you just need a pick me up and coffee is great for that. We also get a big boost from the smoothies and frappes that we sell in the afternoons, so we get a little packed. Most of our sales happen during the weeks leading up to finals and midterms, uh, anyways, not that you asked for an economic lesson on a small cafe’s profit margins.”

“You’re a student?” he asks, head dipping back, eyes glittering in the lights. Wait. How old are you? Not that he can boast any sort of seniority on that front, he’s only 24 after all, but you just seemed, hmm, more mature? He didn’t picture you as a co-ed. Not that he’s actively picturing you when he’s not here. Well, he is a little recently, but you’ve always felt sort of timeless? Ageless? Is that the right term? You give off an air of confidence. So he’d assumed that you were older than him. Not in a bad way, in fact he’d sort of like it if you were. Why, that is, he’s not willing to look too deeply into, at least, not right now. Maybe later, when he gets back home and can…oh, you’re talking again.

“I’m a graduate student, but not for much longer. I’m finishing up my dissertation this week! Thank God. This semester has been the pits, I’m so ready for a break!” You sound genuinely happy and he can smell that faint aroma of your perfume each time you move.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs, unsure if you’d heard him since you’re stepping away from the machines that he’s posted himself behind. He watches you set up two steaming drinks, topping them with a lazy swirl of silky, housemade, whipped cream, a crosshatch drizzle of caramel, carefully snapping a set of black plastic lids on top, before calling out the handwritten names and handing them off to their respective owners. Then you’re back, hands already unhooking the portafilter, knocking out the used espresso pucks into the trash and bringing him back to that spicy smell of summer that sits on your skin.

“Haha, it’s a little early for a congratulations. Don’t jinx me, will’ya? But seriously, thanks, that’s nice of you to say,” you continue, flowing easily back into this half-hearted conversation he’s accidentally struck up with you. He winces at that thought and dips his hands deeper into his jacket, hunching his shoulders into a habitual slouch that he instinctively imposes upon himself when he’s out in public.

“You want a lid?” you question over the hiss of the machine, and he lifts his head, finding your bright eyes through the misting remains of the cleared steam wands.

“No.” His response is clipped, and he gulps down a sudden burst of hazy anxiousness when someone brushes past him, jostling him closer to the low wall that divides the bartop from the cafe floor. He braces himself against the warming top of the machine, his large palm steadying himself, shoulders caving forward, his dark curls falling over his eyes, obscuring his face further. He clenches his jaw, a scowl blooming over his lips.

His social anxiety isn’t anything new, and it’s likely exacerbated by the bustle of the nearby college students, who seem to be getting louder by the second. The noise is needling under his skin. He starts his carefully ingrained breathing exercises, tugging in a deep stream of air through his flared nostrils.

But the smell is coffee is too overwhelming and suddenly his ritual doesn’t help much.

He can feel blood leaving his fingertips and toes, or as his cousin Komori puts it [ the inescapable dread of some imagined ailment, which is making him think that his body is rushing blood from his extremities to his vital organs, his fingertips cold, hands shaking, when in reality ‘you’re just feeling unsure of yourself, man. It’ll be ok in a minute, promise!’ ]

But in the end, it doesn’t matter what anyone calls it, or how they think he should feel during these heart pounding moments, he just knows that he wants to get out of here, now.

His agitation must have twisted the top half of his expression because the feel of your warm fingertips against his wrist jerks him out of his head, causing him to suck in an unsteady breath as he lurches backwards, pulling away from your offending touch.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t think…I just…” you bite your lip, a look of stark worry passing over your usually open features. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Are you…are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts, teeth clenched, right leg bouncing in place against the tiles. Shit. It’s not like he could have predicted that you’d try to touch him, so you can’t really blame him for his misplaced reaction. Just get him his coffee and he’ll be on his way…

Come on…come on…

“Here you go. Sorry for the wait, Sakusa,” you lift on your tiptoes, the stretch of your legs and arms apparent as you hold his cup out, careful to balance yourself against the lever of the steam wand. He takes the proffered drink and nods his thanks at you, his gaze dark. The gesture might be a little strained, and he knows you likely think he’s some kinda freak at this point, but he’s glad to see your customary smile before he turns, shouldering his way out the door and into the promise of open air.

“Stop being so secretive about this place. It’s not like you can’t search for it online, Omi Omi. I saw you come in with the logo of their shop last week and I wanna try it out. Don’t cha’ gimme that look, I deserve to have good coffee too! And if it’s close by you can’t just keep it to yourself! Think about the rest of us, huh? Besides, I think they’d like to see something other than yer’ prickly face every once in a while.” Golden haired Atsumu Miya, his fellow teammate and setter for the MSBY Black Jackals, has been walking beside him for five blocks, jabbering on about the bland offerings of the big box coffee chains that surround their home gym, and how he hasn’t had a good cup of coffee in days. Tch, he’d said months originally, but that was an obvious lie. After all, Kiyoomi pointed out, slipping his mask on before the two stepped into the strong midday sun, he’d come in with an iced coffee two days ago, proclaiming to the whole team it was the best he’d ever had, bar none.

“It’s a small shop,” Kiyoomi glumly elaborates, his dark hair soaking up the rays of sunlight as they crossed the bustling pedestrian walkway. “I think it’s run by an American. The staff speaks English, besides Japanese. There’s one barista in particular, a young woman, she has–”

“English? Oh, hell yeah! I can practice! This is perfect! They got any specialty drinks? I couldn’t see any from the menu that they had online, but I told ‘Samu I’d send him a picture of the place.”

Hmph, what’s the use of bothering to hold a conversation with this guy, Kiyoomi thinks, obsidian eyes narrowing as his brows furrow over his scrunched face, watching Atsumu chatter on about the vague sampling that he’d seen on their website. He’s not listening, anyway.

The coffee shop bell dings as the two of them step into the space, greeted by a waft of freshly ground coffee and the sharp tang of disinfectant. “Ahhh,” Atsumu says, propping his hands on his trim hips and fixing Kiyoomi with a pointed look, “totally see why you like the place. It smells like they have a freaking bleach, whaddya call those, ah, an air freshener! Yeah, smells like they have an ‘eu de bleach’ wall plug in.”

“It’s clean,” Kiyoomi affirms, his own hands sliding into his pockets, fingers wrapping around his wallet as he steps into the line. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all,” Atsumu grins, resting an arm on Kiyoomi’s shoulder as he glances over the chalkboard menu. “Just can tell that must be why you like this place so much. Bet you huff cleaner as soon as you get home.. Speaking of, I still need to see your new apartment, heard you let Ushijima come by and that’s not fair at all. Kinda– ow! Omi, ya’ friggin ass!”

Kiyoomi jerked his arm upwards as he stepped toward the register and the abrupt displacement sent Atsumu’s hand flying up, managing to perfectly strike himself on his nose as he attempted to counterbalance his sudden shift in momentum.

“HA-ah, ahem, I mean…hello! Nice to see you again, sir!” the barista calls out, poorly concealing his mirth at Atsumu’s fumbling behind a gloved hand. Kiyoomi nods curtly, his order on the tip of his lips, but before he can utter anything Atsumu is beside him again, leaning against the well lit pastry case and peering over his options critically.

“Hmm, ya’ got any of those little madeline cakes? They’re vanilla, kinda look like a shell? Saw em’ on yer’ website.”

The barista gives Atsumu a broad grin and twists to talk with someone who’s below the arched dome of the food case, quietly asking a few questions before looking back at the blonde man. “Yeah, we do! We’re actually just putting them out, my manager is checking for the–”

Atsumu steps impossibly closer to the gleaming glass and pops his head over the dome, peering down at whoever is restocking the sweets. “Oh! Hey there!” he chirps, lowering his chin, his face pulling into an exaggerated, cocky smirk. “Ya’ know what I mean, right? It’s kinda like a cake, but it’s small, like a cookie. It’s French. No, it’s not that. Maybe on the next tray? What? I can’t hear ya’. It’s smaller. I can step around, see if–”

A familiar voice pipes up before Atsumu can move closer and Kiyoomi turns, ears instantly pricking up at the sound of your reply. “I said, I know what a madeline is, sir. I’m rearranging and organizing my cart at the moment and, if you’d like, you can order your drinks first. I’ll have the madeline waiting for you on the other side of the bar.”

“Lemme just see one,” Atsumu grins, resting his hands against the glass. Kiyoomi’s lips curl at the sight, watching Atsumu’s hands leave lingering prints behind. Great, now they’ll need to clean and re-polish the display. Besides, you’d said you had them. Why keep pushing the issue? Ugh. If he wasn’t regretting his decision to show his fellow teammate the shop before, he certainly is now.

“Just wanna make sure we’re on the same page, is all. Ya’ might give me something else by mistake and that’s a waste of time for both of us!” Atsumu’s smile broadens, a shadowed look falling over his angular features.

You hop up from your crouched position, a wrapped package with bright blue lettering that clearly says [ French Vanilla Madeline ] on the side, clutched between your fingers. “Oh no, I get it,” you begin, mimicking Atsumu’s cheshire grin with startling accuracy. “You just want to double check! I mean, the words on the packaging do say: Madeline. So unless you mean something else, something that’s not called ‘A French vanilla madeline, made with real vanilla extract and buttery goodness,’ I think we’ve got you covered.”

Your voice is saccharine sweet, lilting over the words, a well-practiced smile lifting your lips. You’re still clearly mirroring the one Atsumu is giving you. It’s the snappiest your tone has ever been, and the fact that it’s being used against his annoying teammate is priceless. Suddenly, he can’t help the laugh that’s already snickering its way past his mask.

“Oi!” Atsumu cries, pushing himself off the case at last, his teeth gritted at Kiyoomi’s obvious amusement. “I just wanted to check! And you, manager lady, don’t be so mean!”

“Pfft, manager lady? It’s (Y/N). And me? Mean? I was not mean, I told you that we had them! I just needed to FIFO some of the other pastries first,” you defend, a surprised exhale falling from your lips.

“FIFO? What is that? Don’t use that food jargon on me! I get that enough from my brother. He does that crap all the time, like it’s some sorta secret lingo. ‘Don’t do that ‘Tsumu, gotta make sure it’s in date’. ‘Don’t come on the line!’ ‘Gotta wear a hat or a hair net if yer’ gonna be back here!’ ‘Don’t mislabel the rice!’ On and on. What’s with you food people? So uptight. Look, I just wanted to try one. Yer’ reviews said they were good! Here, tell you what, give me two. Don’t laugh! Omi, help! She’s picking on me!”

“Stop it, you’re making a scene. Any other inane questions? Or anything else you’d like to order, because I’m certainly not buying any of this for you,” Kiyoomi replies, sneaking a glance at your bemused expression. You catch his eye and give him a quick wink and he finds that his smile stays with him long after he, and a chastened and satiated Atsumu have left the warmth of the coffee shop.

“Mmm, these are pretty good,” Atsumu mumbles between bites of his madeline. “Ya’ want some?”

He stops by after his evening practice, when the sun has long since fallen past the horizon of the city, but as soon as he rounds the corner he regrets his decision.

The cafe is brimming with people. They’re everywhere; outside, they are clustered on the pavement, sitting on the collection of iron wrought chairs, and gathered in groups. Inside, most are sprawled close to the hand off plane, or draped over the couches and tables. They appear to be animated, with computer screens and voices bright, too bright. His usual spot is taken, and he’s already made up his mind to keep walking on but somehow, somehow, he catches your eye.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

“Hey! Glad I could catch you. Wanted to tell you good luck on your upcoming game! I think I saw on the news that it’s tomorrow? Right?”

“Yes, we’re playing Azuma Pharmacy. They have a good starting lineup. It’s entirely possible that we’ll lose.”

“Jeez,” you exhale, cocking your head at his serious expression. “Kind of a pessimist, aren’t you?”

“I’m a realist. I’m perfectly prepared to beat them, but things always play out differently on the court, no matter what your personal expectations are.”

You give him another smile. This one comes quickly, and it’s bigger than any of the others, the pull of it lighting up your face. It’s different, and he can tell that the way you’re looking at him has shifted; that you’ve liked this answer. He’s not sure why, it’s the truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Good point. Well, win or lose, you’ve got my luck! I better get back inside. Your drink is on me by the way, for the other day…when I touched your hand…well, I’m sure you remember. Anyway, see you, Sakusa!”

He watches you slip past the packed lines of students, already rolling up your sleeves so you can wash your hands. Once you’re behind the espresso machine you’re hidden by the burnished copper and he walks on, shouldering his MSBY bag higher, lifting his coffee to his lips. It’s got a rich flavor, well balanced and expertly poured. Once again, he’s reminded that you’re good at what you do and, despite the balmy heat of early spring, that makes his fingers tingle and his skin break out in gooseflesh.

Later, when he’s falling asleep, he keeps seeing your eyes. Watching as your colored irises come alive in the moonlight, hopeful, shining, and wholly focused on him.

At practice, Atsumu insists on completing his post workout stretching next to him. He’s used to Kiyoomi’s sullen silences and barbed retorts, content to chatter however he pleases, flitting from topic to topic as he eases into his cool down routine.

“I need to go back to that coffee shop. Ya’ been back lately?”

“No,” Kiyoomi lies, brushing a stubborn wave of curls out of his sweaty face.

“Too bad. Maybe after Friday’s practice? That girl really knew her stuff. Made some great coffee, too. What was her name? Ah, that’s right, (Y/N). She’s cute, what’s her story?”

Something twinges against Kiyoomi’s rib cage at the word ‘cute.’ Hmm, that’s not normal. He flips to his left side, facing away from Atsumu’s greedy eyes and leering smiles.

“How long has she worked there?”

“Not sure,” Kiyoomi replies, flattening his palm against the cool flooring of the gym. “At least a year, maybe more.”

“That other barista said she was a manager. She’s not one of the owners, is she?”

“Dunno.”

“Is she a student? Kinda strange to see an American working in Japan, and she’s definitely an American. She’s good with the Japanese, but her accent is off.”

“Your accent is off, so I’m not sure what your point is. I can understand her, and I can’t say the same for you.”

“Jackass!” Atsumu snaps, flopping up from his splayed stretch to butterfly his muscled legs. “It’s called a regional accent, and it’s perfectly normal. Ya’ got one too, city boy!”

“See? No one says things like that. You sound like a cartoon character. Sometimes I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Yer’ full of it!”

“Hmph,” Kiyoomi hums, curling himself onto his haunches and flattening the tops of his hands against the floor. The satisfying crunch of his wrists as his fingers settle makes Atsumu visibly shudder and Kiyoomi flashes him a quick smirk of his own, hoping it will spook his stretching companion enough that he’ll leave him be. He prefers to do his cool down in silence.

“She do anything else? Other than diligently slaving over yer’ coffee, that is?”

Tch. It seems that luck isn’t with him today. “She said she’s a graduate student.”

“Oooh, what’s she studyin’?”

“Not sure.”

“Yer’ about as fun to talk to as a stack of bricks, ya’ know? Bet if I’d asked you what her name was the other day all you’d say was, ‘I use’ta just call her barista: first name: cute, last name: girl.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t reply. Something about these questions is bothering him. He doesn’t like that he can’t answer them properly– it’s frustrating, really. All he can honestly tell Atsumu is that you’re neat and efficient, that you have a smile that he can’t quite shake out of his head, a perfume that he wishes he could place, and that, to date, you’ve given him one free coffee. The fact that he knows that you’re a graduate student is sheer luck, information that you’d happened to share with him, not that he’d asked you about. He uncoils his hands and flips them over, letting his eyes rest against his reddened palms. Oh, and you’d touched his wrist once and the sheer metaphysical weight of that contact had nearly sent him stumbling backwards.

It’s stupid; he’s stupid.

It’s not hard to talk with people. It’s just…he knows he’s not good at it. Besides, when would he practice? He’s surrounded by extroverts; extreme extroverts. Extroverts who defy all sense and who usually can’t be silenced unless they’re tucked into a deep sleep, and even then it’s doubtful. Both Hinata and Bokuto have demonstrated that they can, and will, talk in their sleep. Still, it’s frustrating to find himself boxed into a corner, completely at a loss and unaware of the most cursory, mundane, simple, facts about you. For almost two years, he’s seen you at least twice a week, shouldn’t he know more? Why doesn’t he know more?

“Why not give her a ticket to a game?”

Atsumu’s question makes him lift his head, abandoning his musings as he lets the weight of that suggestion sink in. The setter is crinkling his eyes at him now, that all knowing smirk back on his lips, umber eyes hooded, mischievous. “The front office can do that, ya’ know? We’ve got extras. They keep em’ for that purpose. Just say she’s a special guest, or a potential sponsor. They ain’t gonna question you.”

Kiyoomi looks away, crossing his legs and leaning to his right side, feigning disinterest as Atsumu tells him who he can speak with, where he can see the upcoming calendar, and what seats might be open. It’s a good idea, a great idea, and he can’t help but loathe that Atsumu thought of it first.

The ticket is good for a first row balcony seat.

It’s situated in the best spot. He’d picked it out himself, carefully looking over the colored diagram of the stadium and belaboring the proximity of the sight-lines, wanting to let you have a bird’s eye view of the court. Where would he like to sit, if he could watch a game? What works? What doesn’t? Too high and you can’t catch the movement of the ball. Too low and you can’t see the players. Too far to the right or left and you can’t see the breadth of the court. It’s tricky, and he’s cautious with his selection. He can’t help it.

Kiyoomi only considers you not even liking the sport when he’s placing his order, watching as you carefully tuck his empty cup down on the polished steel of the bar. Shit.

The cafe is quiet. The students are gone, and when the register barista goes to the backroom it’s only him and you in the well lit space. The click of the burr grinder almost makes him jump, and he compromises with his nerves by shifting toward his usual table, resting his bag in the chair and taking in a deep breath.

The gentle press of the tamp is audible over the low beats of the music and he hears you knock the side of the portafilter, no doubt leveling off the crushed arabica before you hook the device under the grouphead. Seconds later he sees you flip the switch for his shots, already grooming his heated, foaming, oat milk in the short pitcher, popping the liquid free of any errant bubbles. You’re gentle with this part, and he’s always loved to watch you pour his cortado, liking the raise of your arm and the flick of your wrist as you let the creamy milk flow into the paper cup, swirling a rosetta design through the ochre of the waiting espresso.

Usually, this well-oiled process of yours calms him, but today he feels fidgety and his head is buzzing. The sooner you finish the drink, the sooner he’ll have to talk to you. Shit, shit. When you move the dark lids forward, his hand feels like it’s heating around the slick paper of the ticket, making it clammy and tacky. He bites his lip and removes his hand from his jacket, wiping his palm against his dark jeans.

You’re already looking up at him, nodding toward the fragrant cup that’s waiting at the edge of the handoff plane. Automatically, he lurches forward, completely in-sync with his familiar routine. The question [ would you like a ticket to one of my games? ] is resting on the tip of his tongue and his fingers are hovering beside his cup. He can see that they’re shaking and that sight doesn’t ease him. Then you ask him something and he feels everything skitter to a halt. Why is this happening? It’s just a ticket, it’s just a game.

Wait. You asked him something?

He does his best to ignore the humming of anxious tension that’s filtering down his fingertips and lifts his bowed head. “What?” he mumbles, lips unsticking at last.

“Just asked how your game went the other day. I tried to record it but my stupid cable box isn’t working. I need to try and see you guys, I know I’ve probably said that before, but it’s pretty pathetic of me to not catch one game when the stadium is only two miles away. Plus, I know y’all are a great team! Heard you made the playoffs last year, that’s so awesome!”

It’s a perfect segway.

But he feels like he’s rooted to the spot, like his tongue is trapped against the roof of his mouth, and his hands are too heavy to move, content to shake beside his cooling drink as he whittles his time away, too filled with the what if’s to do anything about the here and now. He’s going down a mental checklist, mulling over each possibility, cautiously tampering with that heady rush of excitement that’s threatening to bubble out of his masked lips. Shit.

He’s gotta check his vitamin intake, maybe he’s low on omega 3s? The team has a general practitioner on standby. He really should call him after this, maybe run by his office before the next practice.

Something’s off with him.

Wait, that worked.

That shift in his whirring thoughts broke him out of that suspended state and then, before he completely fucks this up, the ticket is down against the counter and he’s muttering something about unlimited uses, that if you can’t make it now, then you can always switch the date, or add someone on, if you have a [ boy ] friend you want to take; the next game works best with the seat that’s listed, he’s checked. He knows it’s open. Again, zero pressure and no worries if you can’t make it. See you around.

You might have responded, you might have smiled, fuck, you might have laughed at him. He’s not sure.

All he knows is that as soon as he is out of the shop he’s calling the team’s gp and confirming an appointment for tomorrow morning. It’s not natural for his heart to stutter and thump like that. It could be an arrhythmia.

It could be any number of things.

He hasn’t felt this nervous about a game in years. Sure, it’s a good team, and they have four players that are of his generation, most of them powerful outside hitters that will probably give the Jackals a good run for their money, but they’re not insurmountable. They can beat VC Kanagawa; they’ll have to if they want to advance further in the lineup for the playoffs.

It’s just…

He keeps looking for that seat. Your seat. He’d gotten to the stadium early; opting to forgo the first team meeting, saying he needed to practice his wall drills, work on his spin, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is something that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. At least, not before a game. He steadies himself, reiterating that it’s not practical or helpful for him to worry about things like that.

Nevertheless, he’s pinned the seat in his mind. He studied it as the lights shuddered on, the maintenance staff flashing him bewildered looks as he stepped into the empty brightness of the court. He’d found it again during the pre-game warmup, onyx eyes committing the location to memory, searching for the little details that he could watch for if he wanted to find it again, later, when the arena was packed with thousands of eyes and waving signs.

As they open the main doors and the seats fill up, he’s still looking at the seat.

“Whatcha looking at?” Hinata asks, his burst of orange hair already slicked with sweat, vivid eyes sharp.

“Nothing.”

The results of Kiyoomi’s physical had shown no outliers, no cause for worry or concern. Everything was fine. He should just get a little extra potassium in, maybe eat a few more bananas in the morning, or after his practices. He’d been a little miffed when he opened the manilla folder, eyes hunting for abnormalities, for a reason, an explanation. If nothing is wrong, then why does he feel like he’s tingling with adrenaline all the time? It makes him light-headed, sluggish, and that’s detrimental to his playability, to his value to his team.

He looks away from Hinata and paces past Atsumu’s arched eyebrow, ignoring the implications of that wicked grin that’s resting on the setter’s quirked lips. It’s fine; he’s fine. His eyes look up to the balcony again. He really shouldn’t be doing that, he reminds himself. It’s a distraction, and he doesn’t–

Oh. There you are.

He can’t make out details, not from this distance, and he suddenly feels self-conscious about his face. There’s no mask. He doesn’t wear it when he plays, and this will be the first time you’ve seen him without it. Suddenly, he wishes he hadn’t cared so much about the visibility of the court. Why did he plant you so far away? If he can’t see you, then there’s no way you’ll be able to tell which one he is either…oh…wait…his name is on the back of his jersey and they’ll announce his number. Nevermind.

The referee calls for the teams to line up and he diligently follows his teammates, standing in his usual spot, ignoring the dull thump of his heart as it beats a ragged tattoo under his ribs.

They won.

They won, and he’d racked up a whopping 23 points for himself, a personal milestone. It’ll be something that will go down on his athletic record, that the local and national news reports will chatter about, that he can feel proud of. He’s glad; you always show him your best, so it’s only fair he does the same for you too.

He’d peeked up at your seat during each time out, each break, every time the momentum shifted, and before he hit every serve. You looked like you had your feet propped up, resting against the metal barrier of the balcony, and he could see that your arms were wrapped around your knees. You were paying attention, and that knowledge made his lungs swell and his pulse quicken.

Now, after he’s finished toweling some of the clinging sweat from his brow and the matted droop of his obsidian curls, he twists back, facing your seat, but you’re not there. An empty curve of plastic greets him and his heavy brows furrow, his fingers dropping the towel onto the bench as they curl up into his palms.

Did you leave? It would make sense, he supposes. The game is over. He just thought you might come down. Might want to talk. Not that he’d have much to say. He never does. Stupid; what would he talk with you about? See the game? Yeah, duh.

The distant voice of MSBY’s public relations manager is calling for him. He’ll worry about it [ you ] later, he thinks, he’s still got a job to do.

During his interview he can hear Atsumu’s voice. It’s annoying. While the setter doesn’t attempt to tone himself down, he rarely talks that loudly. Kiyoomi glances over at his straight back, watching as his hand cups against the back of his golden head, an infectious laugh bursting from his turned lips. Strange. It’s not like him to chat with someone for that long, not when he’s got his own post-game interviews to conduct. He usually–

Ah, it’s you.

Suddenly, questions like: [ how does it feel to be considered for the 2025 Japanese Olympic team? ] don’t matter. His head is half cocked now, dark eyes following the two of you, his comments to the national reporter falling into clipped monosyllables. This is unprofessional; he should focus on the matter at hand, it’s not like him to be distracted.

He’s been thinking about that a lot lately. That so many things are suddenly not like him.

When you push playfully at Atsumu’s shoulder, he lapses into a stormy silence, nails biting into his clenched palms, pressing half moons into his calloused skin. After answering one more question: [ something about his future plans - how’s he supposed to know? That depends on trades, on opportunities. And right now he’s not in the correct frame of mind to answer honestly, not when he can see that you’re right there ] he bows to the smiling face of the reporter, formally concluding his participation in the interview. He knows it’s abrupt; he knows he’ll likely get an earful from the MSBY PR director, from his coach, and from himself, when the full weight of his uncharacteristic rashness hits him, but right now he doesn’t care.

His feet feel like lead and the steps that he’s taking shudder against the gym’s polished flooring. He’s usually smoother than this, more collected, but can’t will himself to stop lurching forward. He tucks his hands into the darkness of his team jacket, coiling his numb fingers into tight balls, and hunches his shoulders. He likely looks like thunder and this suspicion is confirmed when a ball boy scuttles out of his path, eyes wide, but Kiyoomi doesn’t care.

Atsumu hasn’t noticed his approach, but you do, and that shy wave and familiar smile makes his breath catch in his throat. Damn it. What’s going on with him?

Atsumu notices your wandering attention and turns, following your gaze. Once he spots Kiyoomi, he gives him a cheeky smirk, dipping his chin, lazily fixing his amber eyes on Kiyoomi’s arched figure. “Look who caaame!” he calls, lacing his tone with poorly concealed glee. “She said you gave her a ticket. What a great, absolutely original, idea! And you had your record breaking scoring streak today too! Hey! Maybe she’s good luck! Watch out (Y/N), pretty soon we’ll be hooking you up with a personal mascot job if ya’ can light such a fire under our stoic hitter’s ass. Must be something special in that coffee yer’ serving him.”

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes at Atsumu’s blatant needling and the setter chuckles, flipping his focus back to you, sensing the rising agitation that is rolling off of Kiyoomi in waves now. “Well, sure was good to see ya’ again! Talk to me next time, huh? I’ll get you a boxed seat. It’s much better than those nosebleeds in the balconies.”

You shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips, and make a show of rolling your eyes. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, you know? And what boxed seats? Feels like I’d see them if you had them,” you tease, earning yourself a last laugh and Atsumu’s back, a friendly hand waving a last goodbye as he finally strides toward the waiting cameras. Kiyoomi watches him go, his shoulders tense, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. Is Atsumu doing this on purpose?

He almost snaps a retort at his retreating figure, but the sound of your voice immediately snatches his attention toward you. His dark gaze meets yours and the look in your eyes makes his palms feel itchy and his feet scuff mindlessly against the floor.

“This is gonna sound so dumb, but it’s been on my mind since I got here…”

Kiyoomi’s fingers twist in his pockets, coiling over each digit, and his pulse feels like it’s speeding up again. “What?”

“It’s just…well, you look so much younger without the mask,” you let out a small laugh and duck your head, teeth pulling at your lower lip as you face away from his widening eyes.

“Is that bad?”

“No! You look good! Uh, I mean, not that you didn’t…I just wasn’t sure…not that I’d thought about it…a lot…uh, I…yeah, I’m…No, it’s not bad!” You press your hands against your mouth, steepling your fingers under your nose and fix him with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, I know you’ve got things to do, but Miya was right about one thing, you had a great game. I had a lot of fun and it was so nice of you to get me that ticket, and well…”

You pause, lowering your hands to yank your purse forward, fingers digging into the leather before you right yourself once more, returning with a small, zipped bag, and a plastic card that’s balancing atop the metal teeth. “It’s a…well…I sorta tried to think of some things that you might like. To say thanks! It’s nothing fancy. A nail filing kit, because I read that volleyball guys like to keep their hands in tiptop shape, one of those portable ball pumps and some masks.

The masks are from a great company, back home, er, in the states. Well, at least I like them, they’re super durable. And the card, uh, ha, um, the card is to the cafe. I know it’s not super original, but I didn’t know if you liked any other places. And I didn’t wanna assume or — Haha, oh God, I am talking your ear off. Just…here! Take this from me so I can get my foot outta my mouth, okay?”

You press the bag forward and before he can tell you he doesn’t accept gifts from fans, his hands are already out of the safety of his pockets, firmly wrapping around your offering. “Thank you,” he bows. He wants to say more, but he’s not sure how.

He didn’t mean to come by the cafe.

He thought he’d go for a quick run before practice, maybe loop the block, or jog toward the university. None of these things are close to the cafe, but apparently his feet had other ideas. The shop bell rings when he steps inside, wiping some hand sanitizer against his heated palms, onyx eyes alert, already searching for you.

A male barista [ is it Kane? ] greets him and before he can stop himself, he’s asking if you’re there. “Oh, (Y/N)? Nah, she’s off today. But I can make your cortado, you get almond milk, right?”

“Oat,” Kiyoomi replies, voice muffled by his mask. Damn. Why did he come here? He didn’t mean to and now it’s looking like it was a wasted trip. A useless instinct. He’d wanted to thank you properly for your gift, which had been on his mind a lot the past few days. Perhaps that’s why he felt so compelled to jog the extra mile, why he can’t seem to keep away, why he keeps looking for you as he waits, even though he knows you’re not here.

Maybe he can text you his thanks. That would make all of this easier. Oh, wait, does he even have your number? He pulls his phone out of his pocket and examines his contact list, searching for you. No, nothing under your name. Maybe he put it under something else? [ barista? cafe? ] Again, there’s nothing. Damn. Why didn’t he ask at the game? Or when he gave you the ticket?

When he picks up his drink and paces back into the sunshine, he’s still kicking himself that he hasn’t asked for your number yet. It would have made things so much simpler, he reasons, sipping at his coffee; now he’ll have to come back.

But days pass, and he hasn’t returned.

There’s just too much going on. Too many team meetings and late practices. Too much preparation. The pace of his schedule has never bothered him before, but now he keeps hoping for some kind of reprieve.

The other morning Atsumu strode into a meeting with a cup from your cafe, proudly flaunting the familiar label. It made Kiyoomi’s blood boil [ did he see you? talk with you? Did he get to see that addictively pleasing smile of yours? ] and later that afternoon he experienced his first scolding.

“What’s going on, Omi? Five missed digs? This isn’t like you. You look like your head is in the clouds. Come on, get it together. Big game in five days.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” It’s all he can say.

When he’s heading toward the team showers, he catches sight of Atsumu’s knowing leer and he grits his teeth, ignoring the huffed snicker and scoffing head shake that the setter sends his way.

Finally, two days later, he’s got some free time. There are other errands he needs to run, things he should do, but the only thing he can think about is you.

He’s walking up from a side street, one he rarely takes, when, at long last, he catches sight of you. You must be on a break. You’re sitting at a bench, facing a small, but well laid flower bed, flipping the pages of your open book languidly as you read under the cool shade of a gnarled tree.

He’s glad he’s wearing the mask that you gifted him.

You’d said that they were durable, and their quality had genuinely impressed him. When he got home, after the game, he slipped them out of their individual plastic cases, fingering the thick, well made materials before washing one. He’d left the others in their containers. He’ll use them, eventually, but not right now. He wants to savor them. He wants them to last.

Kiyoomi is almost to your side when you look up and he bites against his lower lip as soon as you give him that friendly smile of yours, already closing your book and standing, waiting for him to step closer. He comes to a stop in front of you, peering down at you through his dark lashes.

You always smell so nice, he thinks, unconsciously shifting closer, seeking more. You must have showered before coming into your shift because the crisp scent of peppermint and gentle lavender makes his nostrils flare hungrily under his mask.

“Hey there!” you begin, tucking your book into your arms. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

“Fine. I have practice later. I came by the other day. I…” he lapses into frustrated silence, dark brows falling, letting his hands grip at the material of his jacket. Why is this so hard? You, all the others on his team, Motoya [ hell, even the notoriously impassive Wakatoshi has come out of his shell over the years ] can slip into a conversation. Damn it, how can everyone else make this look so easy?

“Saw you’re playing the Adlers soon. They’re the team the Jackals have a sorta rivalry with, right?”

He blinks down at you and lets out a shallow exhale. There you go again. You’re giving him a life raft, a conversation he can fall into, something he enjoys talking about. He remembers his stilted conversation with Atsumu, the one where he did not know about any of the basic things, the obvious things, the things that made you, you. It’s nice that you’re looking out for him, that you’re helping him along, but he doesn’t want to talk about volleyball, not right now.

“We do. How did your finals go? You said you had a dissertation?”

“Oh!” you blurt, your eyes widening, but you’re clearly pleased, even a little excited that he’s asked. “You remembered! Finished it up last week. Now I just need to knock out my revisions and I’ll either go back to committee, or they’ll approve it! I’m hoping they approve it. I’m sick of looking at it, haha.” Your fingers tap against your book and you duck your head, a quick smile passing over your smooth lips. “Uh, did you want to come in for a coffee? Not trying to hold you up, if you’ve got practice to go to.”

“I was the one who came over.” He sounds a little harsh, he thinks, nose wrinkling under his mask. He’s never worried about being blunt, but that doesn’t work here. He doesn’t want to be, not with you. “I mean, I wanted…wanted to say thanks, for the masks and the other things. I like them.” He points to his covered face and you let out a chuckle, gleaming eyes crinkling as you look up at him. Damn, you’re pretty. How has he not noticed that before? He wants to see you laugh again, he’s just not sure how to go about it. Does he even know any jokes? Shit.

“Awe, I’m glad you like them! Speaking of, Atsumu came by a few days ago, I guess you must have worn one around him because he was trying to sniff out if I’d given them to you. He’s a funny guy, but I cannot get a good read on him. It’s almost like he’s doing stuff on purpose, but he’s never blatantly obvious about it. The way he was talking, I was kinda worried he was trying to play a prank on you. Does he like to get under your skin or something? He’s–”

Kiyoomi’s not thinking when he leans down. He’s been doing that a lot lately, not thinking. It makes his skin prickle. Or is that the smell of peppermint on your clean neck, the fragrant lavender in your hair? The kiss is soft; more of a press of his lips than a real caress. But it’s nice, and he actually likes being this close to you, but something feels off and, ah, damn it.

His dark brows knit together, furrowing his forehead, when he realizes what he’s done. He didn’t take off his mask. How stupid. But that shaky gasp of air that you let out when he pulls away, and the following upward lift of your body, your lips chasing his, clearly wanting him to come back, oh that’s so worth it, mask or not.

Your eyes are the first thing he sees when he looks back down, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so perfect. They’re bright, vibrant, and rich with an excitement that makes his toes curl.

The smell of lavender and peppermint, of you, is almost overwhelming, and yet somehow it’s all together, not enough. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you.

What is there to say?

That one, half-formed, touch said it all. It expressed every frustration that he’s felt over the last few weeks, every faded memory of your voice, of your playful smiles, of those hesitant conversations you’ve helped him through. It’s all there, sitting quietly between the two of you, shimmering in the sunlight as you take a step closer and his hands finally fall out of his pockets, waiting, hoping for yours.

“(Y/N)! Break’s over! Coffee’s not gonna brew itself!”

The distant voice of your coworker shatters the euphoria and you tense, pulling away, your head turning toward the barked command as you call out your reply. Kiyoomi huffs out an impatient breath. He wanted to try that again. Do it right this time. How pathetic is he? Kissing you through a mask? But his annoyance dies when you face him again, slipping your hand tentatively into his.

His digits fall limply around yours and he can’t help but marvel at the softness of you. One of his thumbs lifts and he traces the skin along your knuckles, unsure if he’s even breathing anymore. “Come on,” you say, looking down at his touch before lacing your fingers through his, showing him how to hold you. “I’ll make your coffee.”

You’re walking forward and he has the inane urge to snatch you back, wanting to see how the rest of you feels, wanting to know how you’ll fit into his arms, but he distracts himself by following you. There’s a budding warmth that’s spreading from his palm, where your hand rests inside his, to his chest. It feels like a low burning fire is coursing along his veins and his heartbeat thuds out of rhythm, but for once he doesn’t care.

In fact, he thinks he likes it.

He sits in the cafe for too long, his coffee cold, the cup almost empty. But before he leaves [ already so, so late for practice ] he gets your number.

He taps the unfamiliar digits carefully into his device and you watch from the counter, your chin propped in your hand, a gentle smile kissing against your palm. Then he stands, pausing beside you and you run your index finger down his arm, lingering your touch beside his wrist, making him shiver in the warm sunlight, a pleased grin hidden behind his mask.

notes: this man has what, 10 pages of interaction? idk why and idk how, but he is stuck in my brain - like, seriously send help, i think i’m in love.

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

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monster ii, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Once again, mafia boss Min Yoongi and his bodyguard Jeon Jungkook have some fun with you. Nah, you didn’t do anything this time. They’re just horny.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, m/m masturbation, a cock ring is involved, threesome (kinda?), unprotected sex [get tested please], creampie); abuse; non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (black-haired Daechwita AU), longhaired!tattooed!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; Jungkook has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

I wasn’t actually going to post this, but it seemed like a lot of people enjoyed monster so this is my gift to you. :)

The first reason you woke up was sound.

The second reason was pain.

You didn't open your eyes yet, focused on the pins and needles of your legs from being in one position too long. Holy shit. Whatever tranquilizer they gave you fucked you up, hard. Your head throbbed, hazy and disoriented. You weren't even sure you were awake yet. There was a firmness against your ass. A chair. The wood dug into your back and shoulder blades. You were sitting and your arms were sore. You tried to move them but realized they were tied to the back of the chair with rope. Not the normal, lazy kind of tie, no. Intricate knots, beautiful handiwork. Shibari.

Park Jimin's work.

You were wearing a ridiculous black lace lingerie set and matching stockings, the kind that was completely see-through with select... openings in certain key places. What was even the point of these things? Surprisingly, the openings at the nipples and crotch weren't freezing you to death. There was a warmth around you and you cracked your eyes open to see a black velvet robe draped around the chair and your body, the lace accents matching the set.

Very pretty, if you gave a shit.

You could hear the sound of skin on skin. Even though the light in the room was low, it hurt to open your eyes. This is why you hated tranquilizers. You ended up squinting.

Again, you heard the familiar whimper.

Your neck was killing you. Part of you wanted to continue playing dead. The other part of you remembered the last words Kim Taehyung told you as he pinned you down for the injection.

“Hyung doesn’t treat his other women like he treats you.”

The anger that flared within made you raise your head.

A hotel room. It didn't matter which hotel or where. The only thing that mattered was that Min Yoongi was standing at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a loose white t-shirt that revealed his pale chest and silver chains. Black hair pushed back from his forehead, the red scar on his right eye out in the open. Black jeans and black underwear at his knees, because he was stroking his dick.

His pale hand moved up and down, slowly, as if he was relishing in the pleasure. The muscles of his arm flexed as he moved, his index finger leisurely spreading his pre-cum over the angry red head. Yoongi wasn't making a sound.

The one making noise was Jungkook.

He was on his knees in front of Yoongi, completely naked, feverishly stroking himself with his right hand as his eyes transfixed to Yoongi's hand getting himself off. The tattoos on his right arm seemed to dance with his movement. His other hand was on his thigh, nails digging into his skin as he whined.

"Hyung, let me suck you off," Jungkook pleaded, tearing his eyes away to look up at Yoongi and his teasing smirk.

"Take your hand off. Let hyung see what a good boy you are."

Jungkook whined again, removing his hand from his dark red, throbbing cock. Ah.

The fucking sadist had made Jungkook wear a cock ring. Poor thing couldn't even cum.

Yoongi seemed to sense your burning hatred because his eyes flickered towards you. You cracked your neck in attempt to relieve some of the kinks, not taking your eyes off him. His smirk grew wider. The entire time, your hands were searching for a way to get out of your restraints but Jimin was a fucking pro. How annoying.

"Look, Jungkook, your favorite cockslut is awake."

Jungkook turned his head to look at you. You weren't sure how long Yoongi had been teasing him, but it must have been a while. His long black hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead, pupils blown wide with lust, pink tongue licking his lips as he panted. His jaw was tight, sharp with tension. He looked thoroughly fucked out and you could guess Yoongi hadn't even let him orgasm yet.

You didn't say anything, not because you didn't have anything prepared, but because you knew Yoongi was doing this on purpose. He was trying to get a reaction out of you. Yoongi barked Jungkook's name and the younger man faced him abruptly.

"You've been a good boy," Yoongi purred, low and deep. Jungkook bit his lip, looking up at him expectantly.

"Open your pretty mouth for me."

A strange feeling coursed through you. It was like your veins were on fire. You realized your mouth was open and you shut it immediately, breathing hard. You watched Jungkook open his mouth, tongue lolling out, hungry and desperate. Begging his hyung as Yoongi stepped up, stroking himself faster. You saw his jaw tighten with effort as Yoongi shut his eyes, softly moaning. Why were you so angry watching this? Every muscle in your body wanted to ram into Jungkook to push him out of the way. After a moment, Yoongi snapped his eyes open and stared directly at you. Directly at your hunched form, body half-shrouded in shadow from the robe, eyes fixed on his dick, breathless.

Yoongi came with a hiss, all over Jungkook's tongue, shooting thick white liquid down his throat, splattering on his chin and cheek. Jungkook groaned, swallowing greedily before opening his mouth again to receive Yoongi's last residual pumps of dripping cum. Yoongi was breathing hard, exhaling as he came down from his high. After a moment, Yoongi removed his hand and held it out. Jungkook licked it clean, palming himself despite knowing he couldn't get off.

You blinked slowly, finding your entire body tense. Your eyes drifted over Yoongi's form, his long legs, his defined waist, his large hands, his broad shoulders. You finally stopped at his face to see him smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes at him.

Yoongi chuckled and tucked himself away with one hand, pulling up his pants. The other was wet with Jungkook's saliva. He tilted his head as he walked towards you. You wanted to kick him in the nuts, but you must have been on some fucking horse tranquilizer or some shit. Your legs felt like lead.

Yoongi didn't say anything. He just slapped you across the face with his wet hand. Your head jerked to one side from the force, skin stinging sharply from his open palm. He wasn't wearing his rings because he had been masturbating, otherwise it would have been much worse.

Silence.

Centimeter by slow centimeter, you turned your head back to face him. Your face stung with pain but it was nothing compared to the daggers you were glaring at him with.

Yoongi grinned. “I love it when you’re angry.”

You bared your teeth and snarled.

His hand shot out and clamped around your throat, pushing your head back and forcing your spine to arch painfully. The velvet robe fell onto the floor, leaving you exposed to the cool air as Yoongi’s hand tightened around your throat, jamming your shoulder blades into the chair. You tried to fight him but he slapped you again, harder, making your see stars.

“Fuck you,” you choked out, strength draining with each passing second.

“Not tonight,” Yoongi said calmly, slapping your tits repeatedly. You flinched at the contact, trying to twist away. Jungkook was losing his mind. You couldn’t see him very well, but he was moaning, probably jacking off to Yoongi smacking you around. Bastard.

Yoongi pinched one of your nipples, hard, and you bucked, black spots dancing in your vision. He released you and kicked the chair. Your whole body toppled and you hit the ground hard on your knees, thankfully having enough strength to twist and skid across the carpet with your shoulder. Your shoulder burned painfully and all three points hurt from impact.

You were breathing hard, neck on fire, your entire body rattling as it struggled to breathe. Your eyes flickered upward as Yoongi looked down at you with a bored expression. Something must have pissed him off because Yoongi wasn’t usually the one who beat you. Usually it was Jungkook, Jimin, or literally anyone else. He also usually let you fight back because he enjoyed watching you fight. You cackled, tasting iron in your mouth.

“This is how you treat the other women, huh?” you taunted.

You saw him pause. His black hair was shrouding his dark eyes so you couldn’t read his expression. Your knees were fucking killing you. You exhaled sharply and leaned your face against the carpet. After a moment, Yoongi reached into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade. He moved around your body and cut the top of the rope, freeing you from the chair. You tried to pull your arms apart but, of course, they were still tied.

Fuck.

Yoongi yanked the chair out from under you, smacking you right in the shoulder blades. You hissed, twisting your body to get on your knees. Yoongi just calmly grabbed your arms by the rope and dragged you along the ground, throwing you onto the bed. It was unceremonious. He continued to shove you around until you were on your face, kneeling, ass up in the air. You tried to lift your upper body but he pushed you down roughly. You suddenly felt his lips next to your ear.

“Jealous?”

You froze.

What?

Before you could even fathom what he meant by that, you could hear Jungkook climbing onto the bed, and the next moment you were almost screaming into the bed as Jungkook plunged his thick, rock-hard cock right into you. A loud, wet squelch paired with Jungkook’s wail of satisfaction. Fuck. You were wet from Yoongi hitting you. You hadn’t even realized it. Jungkook’s rough hands grabbed your ass and began to thrust into your roughly, already hitting you so deep that you gasped in pain.

“Jungkookie,” Yoongi purred patiently, still holding you down with a hand on your upper back. “You forgot to take the cock ring off.”

Jungkook whimpered, slowing down a bit as he sank fully into you.

“But hyung…”

You could hardly register what the fuck was going on. You could barely breathe being face-first into the sheets, Jungkook was setting your hips on fire with how tight he was gripping you and you were sure the head of his cock was smacking your cervix with every thrust. His cock throbbed against your walls. Tears stung your eyes.

“Hyung, I thought you liked seeing me with it on…” Jungkook was saying. You could imagine the unsure look on his face, the hesitant lip bite. “I’ll do anything you want, hyung. I want to make you happy.”

This guy was fucking whipped for Yoongi. You couldn’t even begin to think what that was like.

You felt Yoongi shift his weight and lean forward, pressing your further into the sheets. You didn’t even bother making noise. They were in their own world. Maybe if you passed out you wouldn’t have to remember any of this.

“Take it out for me. Let hyung see your pretty cock.”

A soft, choked sob came out of you as Jungkook pulled out, cock glistening with your juices. You prayed Yoongi didn’t hear, but his nails digging into your back told you otherwise.

“Come.”

Jungkook groaned as Yoongi freed him. There was a thunk as the cock ring hit the wood of the chair before falling to the floor.

“Show me how much you can give her,” Yoongi murmured, leaning back. “Let hyung see how full you make your cockslut.”

Jungkook rammed himself into you once again. You winced, your entire body shuddering as he began to thrust into you mercilessly, strong hands holding you in place as he fucked you. You felt cool metal against your skin as Yoongi sliced your ropes free. Before even computing you could use your arms again, you were gasping in pain was pins and needles ravaged your arms, sputtering as Yoongi grabbed you by the hair to lift your head up. It took all of your power to claw for something, anything, to give you some hold. You found yourself clutching his shirt, gasping as you looked straight into those dark eyes, that familiar red scar. Your body was jerking forward from the force of Jungkook’s thrusts but you could only helplessly stare at Yoongi as he smirked at you, flashing his white teeth.

“This is the way I treat you,” he breathed.

You clenched your jaw, your hands clenching into fists on his shirt. “I hate you,” you grinded out.

Jungkook moaned so loudly that it was almost a scream. Your eyes widened as suddenly a torrent of cum was shot inside you and you pitched forward, scabbing at Yoongi’s shirt and holding onto him. Oh, fuck. So much. So fucking much that you couldn’t even think straight. It felt like your pussy was being stretched out and at the same time you could feel it oozing out of you, splattering onto the sheets. Oh, fuck, you could even smell it. Your hips felt numb as Jungkook began to rolling his hips into you again, groaning at the slick sensitivity. Your thighs were shaking, covered in Jungkook’s cum mixing with your juices.

Yoongi chuckled.

You looked up, face to face with him. Eyes wide, panting, clutching onto his shoulder and shirt for dear life as he grinned at you. Your pussy felt like it was going to explode with the amount Jungkook shot into you. In fact, it was actively dripping and making a puddle underneath you two. Something touched your face. You froze, feeling Yoongi’s hand against your cheek, thumb running over your lips. He sighed, dark eyes finding yours, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Want to fuck your mouth so fucking bad. Want to feel my cock being squeezed by your throat.”

Something inside you snapped. You heard a moan, a long, wanton, pleading moan – oh, fuck, that was you. Pleasure racked through every fiber of your being as your walls clamped around Jungkook, forcing another orgasm out of him as you came, Yoongi’s name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. His eyes widened at your reaction, lips in a soft ‘o’ as you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to you, teeth sinking into his neck as you screamed in pleasure.

His skin, his taste – it filled your mouth and seared its memory into you. Was there ever anything that tasted so good? So erotic? You could feel the wave coming again and moaned against Yoongi’s neck as you came again, licking your bite, pressing your lips against his skin. Your hands snaked around him, splayed against his back and digging your nails into him as Jungkook pulled out, gasping, splattering cum on your back and ass. Who was mumbling Yoongi’s name like that, so soft and sweet as if you were lovers?

You.

And then the pain came crashing down and you couldn’t think anymore.

click here for part iii

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook smut

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

could you write a coops getting a piercing or tattoo (one or both of them)?

Part 6 of the Coops wedding fics! Thank you to everyone who has read this series--it’s been so much fun writing these, and hearing everyone’s thoughts made the past week an absolute blast. Hope you enjoy!

Check out the rest of the series on the Series Masterlist!

If someone had told twenty-year-old Sirius that in a few years, he would be walking into a tattoo parlor, hand-in-hand with his husband as they prepared to get their wedding date permanently inked on his skin…well, he probably would have laughed in their face. He had never been a big fan of tattoos—they looked cool, sure, but he never understood the point of going through all that hullabaloo for something that would stretch and fade.

Now, though, he saw the point. Wedding rings were amazing, but they were easy to lose; tattoo ink, on the other hand, was a permanent reminder that he had scored the most wonderful person on the planet as his husband.

“Right this way,” Jaya, the young artist with bright blue hair said, smiling as they waved him and Remus into the back. “Congrats on the wedding, by the way. How long has it been?”

“Three weeks.” Remus squeezed his hand and Sirius smiled, running his thumb over the ring. God, he would never get tired of seeing it there.

“It went well, I assume?” Jaya asked as they began setting up.

“It was perfect.” Sirius felt a jolt of fear in his stomach when he saw the tattoo gun, but quickly quashed it down; they had done their research and worked on the design with Jaya even before the actual wedding. He wanted to do this.

“We talked about the process over the phone, but do you have any questions? I’ll go over aftercare again once we’re done.” Jaya paused for a moment, but neither of them spoke up. “Alright, then, which brave soul wants to go first?”

Best to get it over with, Sirius thought. “I can go,” he said, much quieter than intended. Remus raised his eyebrows and he kissed his forehead quickly in reassurance before settling into the chair. He let go of Remus’ hand for a second to pull his shirt over his head, then took it once again and tried to stop the fluttery nerves in his gut.

“Right in the center, yeah?” Jaya leaned down with a stencil, their silver-lined eyes flicking up to Sirius’ face.

“Yep.”

“Alright.” He swallowed hard at the cold feeling of the paper on his skin, just below the hollow of his throat. His neck felt bare without the necklace, but it would be back soon enough. Jaya held a mirror up to show the small numbers. “Look good?”

Sirius nodded. “Let’s do it.”

His heart hammered in his throat and he let out a shaky breath as Jaya cleaned the area and cleaned up their drawing, then picked up the tattoo gun. “Je t’ai,” Remus murmured as he closed his eyes in a last-ditch attempt at relaxing. “You’re alright.”

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius hissed when the needles touched his skin. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on Remus’ hand, breathing slowly as pain prickled all across his chest. It felt like a million bee stings, or the last week of his broken ribs healing.

“Do you need a break?” Jaya asked without looking up.

“Just keep going,” he managed, blinking rapidly at the ceiling. The buzzing sound wasn’t quite as frightening as the strange kind of pain, but it certainly didn’t settle his anxiety.

“You okay, baby?” Remus folded his other hand over Sirius’ and traced a pattern into his wrist.

“Mhmm.”

“Lily and James invited us to dinner next week. Harry’s been asking to see the new baby lions at the zoo with you specifically. He’s also learned the word ‘lame’ and won’t stop using it on James.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Lily says it was her fault, but she told James it was me who taught him to say it.” Remus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“It’s karma. You taught him to actually swear, after all.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Remus complained. “The line is, ‘that’s so unfair, sweetheart, and we need to get revenge’.”

“Right, sor—ow.” Sirius blew out a harsh breath as the needle skimmed over a sensitive patch of skin and bit the inside of his lip.

Jaya made a sympathetic noise. “Just a couple more minutes in this area and then we’ll take a break.”

Sirius turned his head toward Remus and quirked an eyebrow. “Were you trying to distract me?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He moved one hand up to brush the hair off his forehead; Sirius melted into the touch, channeling his attention into the tingly feeling of Remus’ fingers in his hair. “Almost done, love.”

“I’ve got most of it done,” Jaya said, sitting back at last. “Just cleanup work now, and that’ll only take a few minutes. You’re lucky with all the muscle on your chest. It would hurt like a bitch if it was closer to the bone.”

“It already hurts like a bitch,” Sirius laughed, grimacing as Jaya flexed their hand and leaned in again.

“When you two told me your placements at our first appointment, I was a bit surprised,” they murmured, back in the zone already. “Most first-timers don’t choose such sensitive spots.”

“The placement was the important part,” he said, wincing.

“With your necklace, right?”

“Yep.”

“I always like it when people have cute meanings.” Jaya swiped their cloth over the small tattoo before continuing. “I mean, I got most of my ink because I thought it looked cool, but hearing people’s stories is the best part of the job.”

“Would you say the wrist or the chest is more painful?” Remus asked.

Jaya bit their lip. “Depends on the person. The chest area has more bone, but wrists are notorious for hurting.”

Remus hummed, but Sirius heard the edge of tension and kissed the side of his hand. “You’ll be fine.”

“You’re one in the chair,” he laughed. “I’m supposed to be reassuring you right now.”

Jaya glanced up at him. “Count down from thirty for me?”

Sirius frowned in confusion, but obliged; as soon as he reached ‘zero’, Jaya set the tattoo gun down and stretched their back out. “Was that—is it done?”

“Yep. Congrats, you’ve got a tattoo!” Jaya grinned as he sat up, then handed him a mirror. There, in black ink covering a space the size of a quarter, laid a perfect ‘6/12’. The skin around it was bright, angry red, but Sirius was more focused on the familiar slant to the six and the curl of the two; he had seen it written on the PT room whiteboard countless times and, more recently, their mock-up wedding invitations. “Do you like it?”

Sirius cleared his throat as a lump tightened it. “It’s—I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Jaya handed him his shirt as he stood. Remus took his place, looking a little pale as he rested his hand on the small table Jaya had set up next to the chair. “Still okay with the inside of your wrist?”

Remus hesitated, then set his jaw and nodded. “All good.”

“Are you sure.”

“A hundred percent,”

“Alright, let’s get that stencil on.” Jaya worked with clear intent and smooth ease—that had been one of the main reasons they decided on this shop above the others in the area. The cleaning was quick, Remus approved the stencil, and then they got to work.

“Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding about the wrist,” he half-laughed, gripping Sirius’ hand in a white-knuckled hold. “Now would be a good time to start talking, baby.”

“Oh! Um, we need to pick up eggs from the grocery store.” Jaya had to sit back as they both burst out laughing; Sirius put his face in his free hand to hide his blush. “Sorry, I panicked.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your day with Tremzy?” Remus suggested, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes as he settled back down.

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius said lamely. “Uh, I kicked his ass in Smash Bros.”

“You’ve got yourself a keeper,” Jaya said as they started working on Remus’ wrist again.

He smiled up at Sirius. “I know.”

The next fifty minutes passed much the same as they had while Sirius was getting his tattoo—he chatted almost nonstop, rambling about Logan’s terrible cooking and the standing invitation to bring Regulus along for a ‘we survived the Dumais house’ party. Remus scrunched his face up every few minutes, but Sirius kept their shoulders pressed together as he toyed with his free hand. Jaya gave him a thirty-second countdown as well before wiping away the last of the stray ink with a smile.

“How’s it look?”

Remus’ breath caught when he looked down, running his thumb along the lower edge. “That’s exactly what I wanted, thank you so much.”

“Any time, dude. Both of you have good pain tolerance.” They slid their cart to the side of the room again and stood, gathering some gauze and plastic wrap.

Remus leaned his head on Sirius’ shoulder with a sigh. “You have the prettiest handwriting.”

“And you have no excuse for forgetting our anniversary,” he teased, kissing his cheek. “How’s it feel?”

“Like I just got stabbed by a bunch of needles.”

Jaya snorted as he held his arm out for the bandages. “This might shock you, but…”

The three of them broke down laughing and Sirius shook his head, fiddling with the edge of the tape that he could feel under his shirt. A dull ache had begun spreading warmth over his skin and he knew the itching would drive him half-crazy over the next two weeks, but it was an easy price to pay for having his husband’s handwriting on him for the rest of his life. A permanent ‘I love you’, he had said the night after they decided on the design. Sirius smiled to himself as Jaya outlined the aftercare procedures. Permanent. Permanent sounded good.

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sicksweetcreamy · 3 years ago

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8. i just think it looks cool

MRM: Damn. That last movie was pretty gnarly. You made a good choice to abstain. How do you feel about this one?

DRP: It seems…fine. Safer than the last one at least. MRM: Okay then~ here we go~

Lunderland Grotto Presents Rabbit Hole

[A]: I'm not interested in making friends. [WR]: Hehee, well I'll make you give me chance~ [A]: W-Hey! WAHHHH!

Allison Sunderland Episode 1: Upside Down and Around

MRO: I’ll be honest, I never finished “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland”, the original book. The prose was just exhausting and the plot nonsensical and uninteresting. This doesn’t make it a bad book, it just means it wasn’t for me. However, I can and do enjoy the most iconic of its elements at a superficial face value.

And you know what? I don’t think there’s anybody who has actually tried reading it in the last 50 years, so I think I can be excused for being a fake fan. It’s been practically divorced from its original source material, and the same can be said for a lot of other stories too, can’t it?

It’s not like it’s a terrible thing though, for that to happen to a story. There are definitely worse fates.

MRM: Damn, wouldn't it be childhood ruining if Alice was actually doing drugs and having a really bad trip? Such an interpretation would be disregarding the story’s original context and instead supplanting it with today’s frame of reference, but that’s what it means for something to become a cultural icon. Again, it’s not an inherently bad thing, but neither is it an inherently positive one as well.

I actually have a fear of tube slides and descending tunnels. I’m afraid that they’ll keep on going forever or that they’ll curve in such a way that makes it impossible for me to escape.

MRM: I already lost Drip. I'm getting a strange sense of déjà vu here.

Such a bizarre world. You know what’s also bizarre, nonsensical and exhausting? The plot of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, so I’m just going to start breaking the fourth wall now because I didn’t really have a plan for this specific chapter and kind of just want to get it over with so that we can move on to the next.

A common interpretation of the book is Alice’s adventures in Wonderland paralleling the process of growing up and the navigation of the grownup’s nonsensical world. Undergoing bizarre and seemingly pointless rituals and tasks, encountering people with logic and reasonings you can’t understand, and following the rules that everybody else seemingly knows how to follow but can’t explain or even understand either, including yourself.

Dreams and reality aren’t so different then after all. Of course, they say dreams are based on the things you see in real life, but did you know that blind people have dreams too? Just another mystery in a reality chock full of them.

[A mystery in the communally shared mystery we call reality that I perceive through my eyes in my sockets in my head linked to my brain inside my head linked to my heart and my nerves and my bones inside of my body and also my head which is a part of my body but also on top of my body because my torso can mean my body even if my torso can also be considered only a small part of my body the torso and the head and the body and the hands and the arms and legs and skin and teeth and tongue and hair lips eyes brain nails fingers hands muscles nose neck chest body]

MRM: Things never stopped not making sense, but when did I learn to just stop acknowledging that?

[Why I []? []? []? can’t What Who you will you will I []? I can you am will I you How am Who How you will []? I I past []? can I When I will will where How I Where []? Where []? who will you are []? can’t What I you What []? when you When []? you are Where What can []? present Why I []? []? will can will []? []? How []? what you []? []? []? Where What am Who future how When Who []? are am I []? []? will When you why]

That’s just the way things are. So I’ll accept it and move on. Questioning things will always lead to more pain. A proper person would accept that pain in their pursuit for personal development and self-improvement. But a proper person such as that would not survive in a world like ours for long.

We all have values that we say we believe in. And maybe we do, but it’s inevitable that we’ll end up compromising them every single day of every year of every decade of our lives, and I think that it’s a-okay! Because everybody is doing it which makes it so, except for when we compromise them in ways that are socially unacceptable, which is then not okay. Good things can be bad and bad things can be good because it’s all just a matter of perspective.

But sometimes bad things make me sad because other people tell me it’s wrong so I shouldn’t engage with it even when I don’t exactly understand why it’s bad apart from being wrong because other people tell me it is. And then those same people change their minds and do it themselves or tell me that it’s actually good or that it’s okay when they do it, which is confusing.

[Adult Fun Guilty Prayer Accept Sloth Slots Basin Happy Failure Heaven Boys Death Burden Untrue Broke Cold Envy Love System Fat Waste Weird Lust Memory Church Cruel Different Curious Rules Smoke God Annoyance Hell Crux Solitude Penance Sweet Hypocrisy Talent Popularity Holy Blood Toy Health Spirit Anger Irritation Self Pure Martyr Pride Gluttony Punishment Sin Farce Confusing Afterlife Greed Play Critical Confession Refund Contradiction Vice]

So I guess I’m supposed to decide for myself, which is somehow just as painful as being told to believe in things you don’t understand by somebody else, because they’re both the same except that you can have somebody else to blame when you’re a follower, even when you are also at fault as well. Beats having to own up to 100% of the responsibility, but discarding your agency means becoming useless when you’re all alone and there’s nobody left to instruct you.

MRM: Fuck me. Now I’m lost too. Mushrooms are…sort of distinctive, I suppose, but I didn't even get to make it to the queen's castle or even the mad tea party, like literally the most beloved and emblematic parts of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I may have been able to follow an ideal route at the start, but I guess I wasn’t cut out to be an Alice after all.

Carving out my own original story? Being my own unique person? Originality, forgery, uniqueness, conforming. None of these factor into whether something is good, valuable, captivating, of worth. It’s all subject to the whims of the world, and if there’s not a single person who values it, then how is it any better than not existing at all?

At this point in my life I've cornered myself into a bad ending route. So I’ll self fulfill that prophecy and maybe it won’t be so drawn out. Doing what you’re told, and meeting what’s expected of you. That’s…not happiness either. But I want it, or maybe I don't. I didn't but now I do? Or don’t. Maybe somebody should just tell me what to feel.

Peckiish (PKS): (.a;1-01o,.)(s.a?d;s/ad)(kaslosa)(-_-)

MRM: Oh my, the Caterpillar? You’d think the Dreamon of this place would be a more recognizable character like the White Rabbit or Cheshire Cat, but at least you still stand out.

PKS: (ak0-njks)(2883y)(qaii109) („• ֊ •„) (lksqkl)(q;sa/[\]w)(wsp-92)( ◕▿◕ ) (183ujw)(n]ukl3)(892ms) (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

MRM: ... I do not understand.

PKS: (sdmjq)(ai2789)(73y4,m) (*/_＼) (n>’=-=)(-0I99SU)(Q90asp)( 〃▽〃)

MRM: Nope. Like, I still don’t understand what you’re saying. Not that it matters. Or like I care. I’ve already said my piece, so I can finally end this slog of a chapter and move onto the next. Bye bitch

PKS: … ...( )( )( )(๑ಠ益ಠ๑)凸

END

#marred dream #my art #maro moon #webcomic #webcomics #ahhhhh im so bored i need to post this right now

8 notes · View notes

angelanimedesaray · 4 years ago

Text

Wings in the Dark Chapter 11: Rumors

AN: Ahhh yes...we’ve passed the discovery bump...now...relationship building.

Why not start off with a bang :P That in my defense, I feel like kind of makes perfect sense, considering animosity with past peers and what their arrangement might look like to outsides...especially outsiders with animosity... O.o

Also, yes, Hange eventually will be incorporated, just give me a bit, I’m slowly incorporating people XD

Characters: Levi, Vampire!Fem!Reader, Petra, Eld, Gunther, Oluo, Erwin (Mentioned), Various Background Characters

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Sexual Acts, Vicious? Rumors (Couldn’t pick the right word for it, settled with Vicious)

Word Count: 5320

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Reader’s POV*

While the one on one training with Levi had not been at all what you were expecting when he pretty much ordered you to do it, it ended up being the most profitable training you'd had in a while. For one, you had someone you could actually spar with, and despite his current status as undefeated among everyone else, he was taking his losses in your matches in stride. If he lost, he would at least have some critiques in techniques, or what move would have worked better in such and such position.

He seemed to be approaching with the logic of 'just because you have superior strength and speed, doesn't mean you're good,' and was focused on refining talent into skill.

As well as improve and refine his own abilities, perhaps. What better way than to repeatedly take on you, with your natural talents? He'd managed to pin you a few times already. You had the raw strength and speed, but his abilities weren't that far behind, and he had the skill. He just needed a bit more knowledge on how to fight a vampire despite his disadvantages, and he'd probably be set.

Right now, the two of you were in the middle of a spar, hands flying in a quick back and forth of action and reaction, trying to get in a hit just to be parried, then trying to make that parry work to your advantage. A punch in towards the chest resulting in the arm getting pushed aside, just for that hand to grab at the arm that had pushed it, to pull and try to throw them off balance, a foot coming in to try and sweep the feet at the same time, resulting in a side step, moving behind to try and put them in a choke hold, just to have them duck under the arm and go for a quick jab between the ribs, abandoned when an elbow came flying through the air to crash where their head was at, the attacking arm raising instead in defense.

These kinds of quick and fluid movements were what made up most of your sparring session, both of you constantly trying to catch the other off guard and gain the upper hand, raw talent with some tempered skill against a skill forged in fire. Your heart pounded, excitement running unbridled in your veins now that you could have this spar without prying eyes, without having to hide the full extent of what you could do. Of course, this also let Levi get a better look at the extent of your abilities, but you didn’t pay that part much mind.

Your eyes caught something that wasn’t so much of an opening as it was an opportunity, something you could exploit as a vampire. Feeding off the thrill coursing through you, you took the opportunity, forcing your arm with your strength past his guard so your hand could grasp the front of his shirt, your other arm grasping somewhere that was much easier to reach as you went low. Levi realized what was about to happen and tried to shift his weight, to make it more difficult, or perhaps twist himself out of your grip, but you were already lifting him in a throw over your shoulder, taking care to make sure he landed on his back and not his head before you whipped around and attempted to pin him, your knee on his gut, a hand on his chest, your other hand pulled back ready for a finishing strike if this had been real.

Levi froze up underneath you, staring up at you with a hard glint in his eyes that didn’t match his usual defeat. There was even a spark of fear you hadn’t seen yet during these spars, and he seemed to tense like he was ready for a real life or death struggle.

You were confused for a few moments, breathing coming a little shallower than normal--yes, even a vampire could get tired, the stamina wasn’t limitless--as you held his gaze, trying to figure out what was wrong, the hand raised for ‘attack’ having dropped on instinct to show less of a threat.

Your emotions. They were unbridled right now, all over the place, and channeled directly to the fight. Which meant he wasn’t just holding your gaze because he was staring you down. He had frozen because of your eyes.

You looked away, releasing him and backing up, feeling a rush of shame for giving him a scare like that, that you’d let yourself go that much that you weren’t even keeping control of your appearance. Maybe during the fight he could forget, even for a moment, but when he was pinned with your eyes glowing red and locked on yours, it was a harsh and alarming reminder of what you really were.

“Sorry,” you murmured, a hand rising to your cheek as you kept your face turned away, waiting until you had a firm hold of yourself again and you were certain that there wouldn’t be so much as a red glint in your eyes when you did face him again.

You really hoped this little slip of yours wasn’t going to cost some of the trust that the two of you seemed to be building between each other with these training sessions. Maybe not trust specifically, maybe more of rapport, but at the same time, there was far more trust that went into this than you’d realized. These moments where you beat him, where you had him pinned...the two of you were alone in the woods, if something happened, no one would know, no one would be able to intervene. And when he lost, for those few moments, he was at your mercy. He might not be able to do anything if you lost control or simply decided to bite him one of these days. Yet he continued to carry on the lessons despite that possibility and the level of risk in having these training sessions be private. Then again, if they weren’t private, you couldn’t exactly train as much as you could now.

“I thought you had control over your bloodlust?” Levi asked sharply as he got to his feet behind you, notes of that distrust you used to hear from him creeping back into his voice. You hadn’t heard it in a while, since the start of this training, so hearing them creep back in now…

“That wasn’t bloodlust,” you murmured, rubbing softly at your eyes and wishing you had a mirror to make sure the red was gone from them.

“When your eyes are red--” Levi started to argue, but you cut him off, turning to face him again since you were certain you had a clamp on your emotions again.

“That doesn’t just mean bloodlust. It happens for multiple reasons,” you corrected him, fighting to keep your voice from anger or impatience. You could understand the confusion, the only times he’d seen your eyes red had been in moments of bloodlust. Never the other moments. “Sometimes emotions running rampant can trigger it. Especially in the middle of a fight, because a vampire’s instincts are already riled in a fight. I could do it on command, I suppose, if I felt threatened or wanted to threaten--like when a cat’s hackles rise. It’s not...just bloodlust,” you finished in a murmur, looking away again.

Still, even if it had been a misunderstanding you’d just given Levi quite the scare in that moment. He might have thought you were a second away from actually ripping his throat out or something similar.

As a way to make it up to him, you decided to take the position of teacher for a moment, while you were both letting the mood cool from that spark towards danger a few moments ago.

"Listen, when you're fighting a vampire, it's not about strength and speed, it's about leverage and making each shot count," you started to say, pushing hair out of your face as you explained semi-nervously in lieu of an apology for giving him a scare like that. "I'm far from the strongest vampire out there. Even your strength and speed is only going to get you closer to even footing with them, you'll still have to be smart about it. Get them off their feet, stun them, go in for what would normally be a kill shot if you're close enough and they're not expecting it. Even if you know it won't kill them permanently and they'll come back, it will put them down long enough to escape...or find something to properly kill them with."

You didn't know why you decided to suddenly make this a lesson about killing vampires, but here you were, information running out of you like water from the spout.

"And if you're in a really bad spot, and they've already got their teeth in you...make them choke up. Got for the throat. Especially right here…" you touched a spot on your upper throat that made you feel strange just touching it with a bit of pressure, and then a little lower, closer to the base of the throat, where some pressure made you feel like you might throw up. "Or here. At the very least, it should get their fangs out of you. But with a vampire, it's all about fighting smarter, not harder--like when you fight someone much larger than yourself."

Levi studied you for a moment, the on guard position he'd been holding draining from his body as he slowly relaxed in front of you, nodding to himself as he made his way back to the center of the clearing that acted as your starting position.

"We're not here to train me. We're here for you. Keep a hold of yourself and I won't have to do anything," Levi said, falling into an at the ready stance, hands up in front of him as he waited for you to approach so you could resume your training.

The other half of your personal training with Levi happened the same way every day. Namely, he had you run the same maneuver at the exact same pace over and over and over again, until it all became muscle memory--pace included. The theory was that if the pace could be ingrained into your muscle memory, then you wouldn't accidentally execute it too quickly for the gear to keep up when you acted on instinct in the field. And, just so your abilities could still come into play and help with your execution, the first thing you did with every maneuver was figure out how fast you could pull it off without breaking the gear. After that, you walked it back a step or two in speed so you didn't strain the gear and wear it out too quickly, but you were still able to pull off the maneuver with startling speed.

While those practices were much of the same, with you doing it over and over under Levi’s supervision and occasionally learning a new move from him at the start so that he was still teaching you, they were arguably more exhaustive than the morning training--at least mentally. Levi didn't have to do much except observe, so he didn't look remotely bothered while you would look exhausted when you entered the mess hall to eat afterwards.

Since you two would come from the same place, and would usually enter when almost everyone else had received their food, you would end up in the line together, though Levi’s tray always wound up looking different from yours. Because he was an officer, plus he was actually eating the food while you were strategically picking things you could pawn off on the horses or birds and squirrels later.

"Are you even going to eat half of that?" Levi asked critically. You both knew you didn't need to eat, so the rations were kind of wasted on you, but you needed to keep up appearances, and what you did eat would help with cravings.

"Most of it is bribes for the horses. Namely yours. I think he likes me now, but he might feel betrayed if I don't give him a treat with everyone else," you teased him with a soft smile on your face, tossing an apple up into the air before putting it back where it belonged.

Levi rolled his eyes. "Stop bribing my horse, he's going to get fat," Levi grumbled, pushing on with his tray.

It was nice that you could tease and joke with him now, even if it was just the brief, lighthearted stuff. He really was making an effort to be more accepting with you. When you weren't dragging the vampire stuff front and center, you could almost say he was comfortable around you.

Of course, until something reminded him what you were, or you talked about it, and he was on edge again. He was going to need much more time to come to terms with the vampire side of you. There was too much about it that made him uncomfortable and ill at ease. That wasn’t something he would be able to get over just by spending more time around you--that was going to take some time and reflection of his own.

As you followed behind Levi in the line up, you spaced out slightly, listening in on some of the conversations going on around the mess hall, ranging from sore muscles from training today, to an upcoming shipment of fresh supplies, to how bad the food tasted. And then, through all the meaningless chit-chat, something caught your attention.

“...definitely sleeping with Captain Levi.”

You paused, centering in on that one conversation, a bad pit in your stomach.

“Are you kidding me? Captain Levi’s hardly the type.”

“I’m sorry, do you know anything about him? Nobody really does, other than his irritable attitude and his reputation. For all you know, he is the type. And I’ll bet he is. There’s no way she’s climbed the ranks that fast unless she’s climbed on someone’s dick along the way, I don’t care how skilled she is.”

“That’s foul.”

“It’s true! There’s advancing because of your skill, and then there’s going from a fresh recruit to part of the elite squad in a couple days, to private lessons with Captain Levi not long after. We’ve just gotten placed in Squads and barely started training with the squads. And it’s a position they literally made up so she could be in Levi squad. That’s beyond favoritism. I’ll bet you when they come out of those woods every morning all sweaty and flushed and tired, it’s after she’s given him a good fuck to get on his good side.”

“Maybe they’re just sparring--hand to hand lessons…” someone else suggested weakly.

“If it was a spar they could do it on the training grounds like everyone else. What they’re doing they have to hide. They get up so early so no one will see what they’re up to, and I’ll bet that means they’re out there for hours. It’s gotta be one hell of a blowjob she gives, that’s for sure.”

“Hey--what’s that look for?”

You snapped yourself out of the revolted and disturbed focus you’d found yourself in at Levi’s more immediate sounding voice trying to get your attention, eyes focusing on him as, for a moment, you found yourself at a loss of words for what to say to him after hearing...that.

And he had no clue. Because besides the people /in/ that conversation, you’d been the only one to hear it.

He looked concerned, maybe even worried, his mind probably coming up with a bunch of worst-case-scenarios for what you felt or heard that gave you whatever expression you currently had.

You shook your head, sliding your tray to the side to get him to keep moving or else risk their trays crashing into each other with the contents spilling everywhere. “I heard something I did not want to hear. Just keep going,” you said dismissively, trying to brush it off as someone having a roll in the hay in the stables or a quickie in the supply closet--whatever kept him from even getting a hint of what you actually heard.

If it was just your reputation they were trashing, maybe you wouldn’t mind so much--you knew it wasn’t true, that it was as far from the truth as they could get. What made it really worry you was how it also dug at Levi’s reputation. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but maybe he would. You hoped if the rumor reached the rest of Levi’s squad, that they wouldn’t believe it. They knew Levi better than most people here, surely they’d know it wasn’t true? But you could also see how that was a rumor that would burn like fire through the ranks.

Behind Levi’s back as he continued down through the line, that worried look lingered in your eyes, wondering if you should do something about the rumor, or just leave it alone. Normally you would just leave it alone, but this one seemed...insidious to you. Or at least, you didn’t like the thought of people spreading it further, even if you knew the people that mattered knew better, or might know better.

You ended up breaking away from the line before Levi did, heading for the table that the squad usually sat at and trying to shake off the concerns and worries eating at you in the back of your mind, giving them a shy smile as you took the seat next to Petra.

“So, newbie--private training with the Captain, already? Someone moves fast,” Oluo said conspiratorially before you could even sit down.

Had they already heard that damn rumor? Was it already making its way through the ranks and you just hadn’t heard it yet?

“Oluo, don’t be an ass,” Petra scolded him in answer. “And she’s not much of a newbie anymore.”

“She’s a newbie until she’s been out on a few expeditions, Petra,” Gunther commented.

“Whatever--you’re really getting private lessons with the Captain? Two a day, from what I hear?” Oluo asked, cutting past the debate over whether or not you were a newbie.

“It would explain where you disappear to in the mornings and just before dinner,” Eld added quietly from where he usually just observed these back and forths between you, Eld, and Petra.

“None of us get one on one training with Captain Levi,” Oluo stressed, leaning forward in his seat. “How’d you do it?”

At that moment, Levi appeared at the head of the table, setting down his tray with an agitated sigh. “She needs someone to kick her ass into the dirt every now and then,” Levi said simply in answer to the debate bouncing around you.

Petra turned to look at you with a slightly apologetic look on her face. “You are pretty infuriating to spar with.”

“So I’ve been told,” you answered, feeling yourself start to relax again as the conversation started to drift into what you considered safer waters.

“Sometimes, I swear you’re letting us win,” Gunther added, clearly agreeing with Petra on that matter.

“Because she is,” Levi said bluntly from the head of the table. You gave him a sharp look that clearly asked why the fuck was he outing you, but he didn’t even glance in your direction as the rest of the table fell awkwardly silent. “It’s why she trains with me in the mornings--she needs a tougher opponent.”

You blushed, feeling the attention shifting to you. “I wouldn’t put it that way,” you muttered under your breath, worried it might come off as Levi suggesting the other four weren’t good enough to spar with her, that they weren’t at her level, that she needed someone who actually presented a challenge.

All of those could be taken rather insultingly, considering you were apparently still new enough to be considered a newbie by most of the squad.

Levi held your gaze from across the table. “How about next time you spar with them, you don’t hold back and let them see for themselves.”

“Put that effort into sparring with your comrades, and they might learn something.”

The first thing he’d ever tried to teach you, back when he’d first encountered you.

You nodded, deciding not to question his judgement on this. He knew the other members of the squad better than you did. And not he was aware of your secret and could properly assess risks. You were going to trust his judgement on this one, despite your own confusion or reservations.

“Yes, sir,” you said with a nod, turning back to the food in front of you with a slightly thoughtful frown.

*Levi’s POV*

After shooing Y/N away from taking care of the horses like she usually did, Levi was spending some much needed time with his horse, brushing down the black steed’s coat and gently rubbing his neck, forehead, and muzzle--whichever he could reach.

“You’re putting on a bit of weight,” Levi remarked lowly, eyes roaming over his horse’s frame. “If she’s going to give you so many treats, she could at least make sure you get the exercise to keep from gaining the weight…”

The horse just snorted and tossed his head, settling back down when Levi gave him a disapproving look before Levi continued brushing him, taking a moment to let the sound of the horses moving around and nickering softly in the stables soothe him away from the bustle of the Scout’s headquarters.

The stable door opened, and Levi glanced out the stall to see who it was, half expecting it to be Y/N again and for him to have to shoo her away again so he could have quiet time with his horse.

It was Petra, actually, and she went right by the stall that her horse was kept in and made a beeline for where Levi was standing by the entrance to his horse’s stall.

“Captain, I need to talk to you about something,” she said seriously, a flush of nervousness coloring her cheeks as she came to a stop in front of him. Levi’s eyebrows rose at her demeanor, but he didn’t say anything, intending for her to continue without further prompting from him.

“There’s a rumor that’s been going around…”

Levi snorted softly, turning back to his horse. “You know I don’t give a damn about what’s going through the gossip chain for the week.”

“I know, and normally I wouldn’t say anything, but...this one’s pretty bad. And it’s only getting more out of hand. And I thought I should give you a warning before someone tries to do something about it.”

That caught his attention. People throwing rumors around was one thing. A nasty rumor that could stir people to action, though, that was something that he might want to give a bit of attention to. And considering Petra was coming to him about it as a warning, it involved him.

“People have been saying that Y/N has been getting her promotions and placements by sleeping with superior officers...namely you, and that it's still going on right now. Now, the rest of the squad and I don’t believe it, but there are some people who believe it’s true to the point they’re planning on bringing their concerns to Erwin,” Petra told him nervously, the slight shake in her voice getting worse when Levi’s expression darkened considerably.

That was quite an accusation. And apparently one people were believing enough to try and take action about. But to think some people would believe he was actually the type to be bought with sexual favors.

Well, actually, he was used to people thinking lowly of him, but this was a line he’d thought it was clear he wasn’t ever going to cross--either falling into the trap of accepting sexual favors in return for promotions, or exploiting someone in a lower position for them. It was a filthy rumor, and Petra was right, this was one he preferred to have a heads up on so he could do something to shoot them down before they got any further.

This wasn’t a rumor that could be combated with words--no one was going to believe it no matter how insistent Y/N or he got, but maybe, at least for a little while, if it was more out in the open that they were just training, and it was for good reason, maybe it would help abate the rumors.

Maybe letting them go to Erwin was a good idea. Erwin knew what was actually happening--hell, Levi gave him regular reports on her progress, since the man wanted to keep a close eye on his new asset while he decided how best to use her in the grand scheme of his goals. Then again, Erwin might have to be forced to investigate anyway, considering the seriousness of the claims, even if they both knew it was just a nasty rumor that had gone too far. And Levi and Y/N were spending plenty of time alone and out of the public eye where no one knew what could be happening--besides the three who knew exactly what was happening, but their witness wasn’t there, physically.

Petra was watching his reaction in tense anticipation, staring at him as his eyes roamed around at something only he could see, considering his options and how best to handle the situation. He went back to his horse, giving the almost perfectly shining coat another few brushes before he answered.

“Thank you, Petra. I’m sure if it does get to Erwin, he’ll know better--he knows what I’ve been training her on and when, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem. But if it does become one, it’ll blow over,” Levi reassured her, exuding an outward demeanor of calm after deciding on a few minor moves to help dispel the rumors.

*Reader’s POV*

About a week after you had overheard the rumor in the mess hall, and well aware that the rumor was only getting worse, Levi called you into his office to discuss that very rumor. Apparently, Petra had told him about it, including the lovely fact that there was a group that was going to go to Erwin to have him take action about it like it was possibly true. Besides letting you know that he knew, the only thing Levi was requesting that they do in order to try and combat some of the rumors, was to move their just-before dinner training with the ODM gear onto the training field so there were witnesses that they were just training, and at least once in the upcoming days, the two of you were going to do your hand to hand training on the training field where there were witnesses to see that you actually did need to train with him for the sparring.

You would, of course, have to refrain from doing something openly vampiric, even though normally during your morning spars you could cut loose, but the two of you sparring and being rather evenly matched would probably be plenty of evidence to show that you had earned your spot on Levi’s squad (Even if the circumstances had been unique).

However, something about him going to these lengths sort of bugged you. You understood how serious it would become once people took it to Erwin, but at the same time…

“Thank you, Captain Levi, but...you don’t have to do any of this for me just because of some rumors. I don’t really care what they think of me,” you said hesitantly. The only people that mattered were the ones that didn’t believe the rumors, from what you were aware. It was mostly people who had some kind of a grudge against you from the training cadets or simply out of jealousy that were pushing it further than just a rumor and willing to actually believe you and Levi were the kind of people to be doing something like that.

“What makes you think I’m doing this for you?” he asked, possibly a little sharper than he’d intended.

He had a point, though. This didn’t just hurt your reputation, it could hurt his credibility as well if it made it to the point of a legitimate investigation, whether the two of you were cleared or not. No one would forget that there had been enough to question him, that he had still been investigated for accepting sexual favors, whether it had been true or not. You were both in the same boat in this mess. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to normally care about petty rumors, but this one was going too far.

“Okay then...but on one condition,” you said firmly, sitting up in your seat. Levi leaned back, studying you for a moment, looking a little confused that you even had a condition for going along with trying to clear your names up even a little from these rumors. “No matter how the spar goes, you have to be the one to win it when we’re in front of everyone.”

Levi stared you down for several long minutes, the silence almost getting painful as he seemed to be trying to read you, to glean why this was your condition, why you were so insistent about it. Maybe he was also thinking back to how you’d thrown your first match with him even though you were about to win, and how that one had been in front of everyone...while you had never thrown a fight when it was just the two of you, and you’d even beaten him a few times.

“Why is it so important to you that you lose to me when we’re in front of everyone?” he finally asked.

“The same reason I threw the fight when we met. You’re Humanity’s Strongest. I know it might not even matter to you, but it does to me. I don’t want that title, I don’t deserve it--I’m not even human. You do--deserve the title, I mean. I can’t take it, I refuse to, even if it’s bestowed by people who don’t know any better.” You licked your lips, heaving a soft and somewhat tired sigh. “That’s why you can’t let me win when it’s not just the two of us. I can’t even risk the thought entering their minds that you’re not Humanity’s Strongest anymore, because that’s not true. Not that they’d ever know.”

“I really don’t give a damn about whatever title they want to try and fit me with,” Levi said, his voice surprisingly not betraying anything about what he thought--not yet, anyway.

“But I do. I hate to sound superficial, but it does matter to me that you stay the one they see as Humanity’s Strongest, and it doesn’t get passed on to me. So that’s my condition. You have to win the spar at the end.”

Levi nodded slowly, getting to his feet. “All right, then. I’ll win the spar,” he agreed, gesturing for the door. “I’d invite you to have some tea with all this shit going on, but we probably shouldn’t be spending any more time by ourselves until this whole mess blows over.”

“Of course,” you said, getting to your feet and ready to leave. You paused by the door, turning to look at him. “And Captain…”

He looked up from where he was getting his jacket off the chair, looking at you expectantly.

“Thank you. For training me, and...giving me a chance. Despite everything,” you said, feeling awkwardness drip into your tone and a blush color your cheeks before you hurriedly left the room, shutting the door before you could see his reaction or he had the chance to answer with a snarky or sharp reply.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse @subtlepjiminie @hakunamatatayqueen @queenofcurse @linxiajei17 @levisbebe @toni-jones @pinkberrymilktea

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soldmysoultootomeboys · 4 years ago

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Demon MC with Human Obey Me Brothers Reverse AU

Okay but what if the brothers were all ‘normal’ humans who ended up summoning a demon, who is MC.

I’m in love with this idea. Lowkey might write a fic about this jk...unless? Levi’s was surprisingly the most fun to write. Also I guess tw for normal demon things??? Nothing too graphic tho

Part 2

Lucifer

As a human he was a high ranking businessman. While still a formal person on the outside he had a perverse interest in the occult that he hid from the rest of his coworkers.

Due to his important position and large pay he manages to get his hands on some rare books on demon summoning. After a lot of research he tries them out.

When he summons you he doesn't look surprised or afraid and is quite clinical about it at first. The first thing he does is bind your powers so they can never be used against him. After he informs the rules you must follow if you're to be living with him.

Even as a human he is quite prideful and controlling and he wants to remind you who's really in charge.

At first he only sees you as a demon. He lets you do your own thing when he isn't ordering you around and when the two of you do go out in public he only introduces you as an acquaintance of his. People are rather surprised at this as he's not the type to walk around with others and rumors quickly fly off about you two.

It's not until you two are walking home from a shopping trip that you really start to bond. It was a late night and no one was around so the two of you take your time, enjoying the cool air and stars.

All too late that you hear the click of a gun. From the shadows steps a man, weapon pointed straight at you. Seeing your nonthreatening human form as well as Lucifer who practically reeks of wealth he thought the two of you easy targets. Wrong.

With inhuman speed you lunge forward shifting into your demon form. The gun clatters to the floor as you rip him to shreds with no remorse. It's only when Lucifer finally calls you away that you realize he's dead.

Once you manage to get home he is immediately lecturing you about how risky the actions you just did were. Someone could have seen you or more importantly seen him. What would you have done if the cops got involved? Eat them?

Once he's done though he thanks you and a few days later a gift ends up in your room. He never claims it, even though you can smell his cologne all over it.

After that night Lucifer treats you different. Not better, but not worse either. If anything he's a bit kinder but in a cold sort of way and he keeps his distance when anything gets too serious. At first you think its because he's scared of you. It isn't till he finally approaches you, a stern look on his face and orders you to transform that you realize he was working up the courage to see what you really looked like.

The pact urges you to turn, so you do and you let him examine you, circling several times. He's most interested in your wings, asking if he could touch them and when you consent he gently runs his hands over them. Despite you being a demon he treats you delicately shifting aside feathers with a careful hand and running a light fingertip over leathery skin.

It's a strange feeling at first, but not bad and you're practically purring by the end

After that he asks to see your true form more and more

Mammon

He didn't mean to summon you.

He just wanted to make a quick buck. It was getting close to Halloween people were starting to be interested in demons and spooks once again. That's why he thought it would be a great idea to start a seance business.

Twenty dollars for him to pretend to summon a demon, maybe shake a table once or twice, have some scary sounds playing in the background, nothing too big. Who would have known that the book he stole as his main prop would really work.

When he first sees you he screams.

He immediately tries to shove you back into the book to no avail. As he has no clue how to get rid of you he ends up stuck with you, a terrifying demon.

At first its very easy (and amusing) to scare him. Bear your teeth, mumble in a made up language, threaten to rip him to shreds.

You can actually see his soul leave his body when he faints.

However in typical Mammon fashion he gets used to you surprisingly quick, especially when you don't come through on your promise to eat him.

After that he figures that together the two of you could start scamming people for even more money. After all, he does own a real live demon now.

You two make bank stealing and tricking people. With his knack for creating schemes and your powers the two of you are rolling in money in no time, although it always seems to be lost pretty quickly thanks to his terrible gambling habits.

It's in the middle of a heist that something goes wrong. Someone, you don't know who you can only hear the click of a revolver, pulls out a gun. With lightning fast reflexes you’re tackling Mammon shielding him with the tip of your wing and just in time as something is shot into it tearing through muscle and sinew.

The urge to rip them to shreds overtakes you, growing with every second that your human is in danger. But there was so many of them and you couldn't protect Mammon and yourself at the same time. The need to get somewhere safe is much more important so you leave.

It's only your quick reflexes that get the two of you out alive.

When you finally get home Mammon laments over all of the money he lost on the deal. acts like it doesn't affect him. His complaints last exactly till he sees the blood staining your form.

He almost faints right there.

Once he recovers he's immediately running to get ice packs and gauze, fussing over your injured wing. It's obvious he’s worried even though he tries to hide it under his tsundere act. When you’re finally bandaged up he thanks you glancing at your wound the entire time.

It's hard not to appreciate the gesture.

You just don't know how to tell him that your going to be perfectly fine in like two days (thank Diavolo for demon healing)

After this you two are a lot closer. Even before you were friends, but now the relationship has morphed into something different.

The two of you do less dangerous scams and while Mammon doesn't act too different he gets super weird when you're too close. Blushing a terrible crimson and freaking out when you touch.

Even for a demon its not hard to see that he has a crush.

Levi

Also summoned you on accident.

He was actually trying to summon Ruri-chan. You have to admit when it comes to her he does his research. Drew a full pentagram and everything and as a final touch placed a little plushy in the middle.

He absolutely panics when you arrive here instead.

Used to humans being afraid you, you ignore him at first. You fall to one knee eager to pledge your loyalty in exchange for his soul when you land on something squishy.

Pulling it out from under you see a plushy??? Of some anime character??? TF???

This pulls him from his stupor and he snatches it from you and begins to lecture you on the importance of Ruri-chan and anime on human culture.

You have no clue whats going on at this point.

When he finally stops talking he actually gets kind of excited. He summoned a hot demon??? Woah! This is just like his anime 'I accidentally summoned a demon from Hell who became my roommate and now I might be falling for them.'

At your confused look he immediately turns it on and has you watch it. You two end up having an entire movie night together.

After that the two of you mostly act like roommates.

He often compares you to his favorite series TSL where 7 humans summon a demon named Henry and go on crazy adventures with him. The first time he accidentally calls you Henry he blushes like crazy.

At first he acted like you were annoying him most of the time but it was pretty easy to catch on to his tsundere act. He actually loves having you around and will whine when you have to leave. He says its because he can't play two player games without you but you know the truth.

On the rare occasions the two of you go out he gets jealous of anyone with even the slightest interest in you. Your HIS demon why are you giving someone else your attention?

Its pretty easy to distract him though. Just the slightest touch and hes flushing and stuttering. You can do whatever he won't get the hint that you like him the most.

'There's no way you meant to do this. This must be some weird demon norm I don't know about. Yup that's it.'

Satan

Summoned a demon on purpose. And not just that summoned you on purpose.

With his extensive library he had more than enough information to figure out how to summon a demon. After that it was just a matter of choosing which one. He finally settled on you.

You don't need to worry about explaining how a pact works to him. He already knows everything on it. Maybe even more than you. Nerd.

Don't express this opinion out loud. He will be furious.

Even so he'll still make you tell him about summoning a million times just to see if you know anything different.

Mostly you’re an over glorified assistant/labrat to him. MC grab that book. MC draw this summoning circle. MC stick your hand in this flame.

Of any of the brothers he is the one who sees your demon form the most and the one who asks the most questions about it. You have very sharp claws what are those used for? Four sets of wings? I wonder why you have so many. Slitted eyes? Do you have any idea why they are like this?

He is very interested in the differences between humans and demons so you end up performing a lot of tests.

He would also be curious about the celestial war and your part in it. Its up to you to choose to answer him or not.

If you ignore any of his questions he will get annoyed and be snippy. But just tell him an interesting tidbit about hell and he'll be back to normal in no time.

As for his actual job he works as a researcher at a big lab. You go there often to help him with his work. He used to have a lot of assistants but none could handle his terrible rage.

Its one of the reasons you work so well with him. An angry human? That's no big deal. Now if he was a demon that would be something to talk about

His tantrums are actually kind of cute. Like a fussy kitten.

Telling him this has a 50/50 chance of either making him blush or rampage.

If its possible he uses you to annoy his colleagues

Janice talked shit about his theories on planetary alignment? Poison her

Jk not really but maybe just, like, make her day a hundred times worse?

Thanks MC you're great

A power team at its best. His need to get back at people he hates works well with your general need to cause mischief

Asmodeus

An orgy summons you obvious reasons. Although technically not the one who summoned you, you end up making a pact with Asmodeus before the nights over.

It was inevitable really, of all the humans there how could you not choose him? His overblown confidence and cocky insistence that he was perfect was practically adorable. I mean here you are, a demon of all things, and yet this little human is here insisting that he was perfection himself. You just wanted to eat his soul right up he was so cute.

To him its obvious why. After all, he was so beautiful that even demons fell in love with him, he couldn't blame you.

Even if you tell him the real reason he won't believe it.

Immediately starts bragging about how he could seduce demons

If you leave a pact mark on him though he will complain

As for actual duties you don't have a lot

At parties you work as his wingman but at home the two of you have more of a domestic role. He treats you more like a best friend than a demon.

He has a lot of spa days, something he immediately insisted that you take part in too.

One day you bring him a bottle of demon moisturizer. Big mistake

When he finds out about all the different demon beauty products he immediately orders you to get him some.

Your poor wallet.

He's always ordering new things. He really wants to go down to Devildom so he could look himself instead of having to order off Akuzon. One day you'll figure out a way to show him the eternal night.

He's also very flirty towards you, something your not surprised about. Hes always on your lap or petting your head or asking for affection, and he constantly alludes to the things the two of you could do. As time goes on he begins to get even more needy, sometimes ignoring others at parties just to flirt with you. He wants all of your attention all of the time.

Beelzebub

Did not mean to summon you but now that your here hes pretty okay with it

Of all the brothers he the one to treat you the most like another human.

However you have one duty that you take very seriously

You must protect his brother, no matter what.

Other than that you two are like roommates. He doesn't really ask you of much except to keep the fridge stocked (which is a bigger job than expected this guy eats a lot) and he'll take care of the rent and everything else.

Sometimes he'll ask if you want to head to the gym with him. You thank your demon metabolism since every time you end up going he always stops for burgers and shakes at his favorite place on the way home.

He lifts a lot for a human, no surprise since you've seen how sculpted his body is. Seriously he's like a Greek statue. You spot him while doing reps and help correct his form while necessary. It's a bit of a switch from dealing with demon biology to human biology though so you have to make sure that you don't accidentally hurt your new friend.

Sometimes the two of you have movie nights, although its more of an excuse for him to buy a bunch of human food and you to buy a bunch of demon food and pig out. He still manages to out eat you somehow.

Occasionally the two of you will go out with his brother Belphie although it usually ends up with either you or Beel carrying him when he falls asleep. But it gives you time to chat with Beel on your own which you don't mind

The two of you end up with a good bromance, sometimes minus the b.

He treats you like an old friend and even ends up telling you about Lilith, his dear sister who died when a car hit her. He had only managed to pull his brother out of the way at the time and he still remembers it well. You can practically smell the guilt that hangs off him when he tells you that. It's hard not to feel touched after that story even for a demon.

He confesses a lot of things to you, things he has a hard time saying to other people. He never calls upon his pact to swear you to secrecy. He trusts you.

Belphie

Also summons you on purpose

When you first meet Belphie he's angry, uncontrollably angry. It's at the point where it almost surprises you. After all a human filled with so much wrath is no small feat.

His first order is a tough one but one you have no choice but to accept.

Kill the man that murdered his sister

The two of you work hard to hunt him down, spending many days brainstorming late into the night. Although it always ends up with just you working, as Belphie has the strangest tendency to fall asleep while talking. (Narcoleptic maybe? Or just lazy?) Whatever the case you don't terribly mind.

Even just his presence helps, in some strange way.

When you finally track him down Belphie insists on going too. He wants to see the man die with his own two eyes.

It's not a hard fight but it is an emotional one. Through the bond you two share you can feel Belphies anger, his pain, his desire for revenge, and then finally an emptiness.

When its over the two of you go home, still covered in whatever bits of him were left. Belphegor shows no emotions and you wonder if hes in shock from seeing someone die so suddenly, but all you feel is a tired yet content thrum through your bond.

When you finally get home Belphegor immediately tries to go to sleep and its only through a little nagging and a lot of manhandling that your able to convince him to shower first. By now the bloods beginning to dry into a nasty goop and once he's done you jump in too, soothed by the steam and clouds of soap drifting around you.

To no ones surprise Belphie is asleep when you get out. It's then when you realize that you have nothing left to do.

With that one action your purpose here is done, and yet your pact remains. Your thoughts begin to rise Belphie who clings stubbornly to sleep. It's no use though. The two of you are too connected for it to stop.

You hear the sheets rustle and he raises one hand patting at the covers. A universal sign to come here.

"You're so loud" He mutters even though you haven't said a word. "Just sleep already."

A useless answer but a comforting one. You curl up at his side, feeling the tiniest bit like an obedient dog, but his arm settles over your shoulder and he drapes himself over your chest erasing the thoughts from your mind.

You eyes flutter close, at least for the moment. You can decide what you should do when you wake up.

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2hero2academia · 2 years ago

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Season 1 Episode 2- “What It Takes to Be a Hero” (part 1)

if there’s one thing i hate about my hero academia, it’s the recaps. i’m not against recapping things in your episodes, but the extent to which mha does it alongside its truly atrocious amount of flashbacks is actually criminal. so let’s make a drinking game out of this

for the love of all that is holy, don’t actually use alcohol for this. it’ll be a hydration game, not a “kill your liver” game. basically, every time mha shows you something you didn’t need to be reminded of, take a sip from whatever beverage you’ve brought along with you. you’ll probably need several refills before the season’s even over. you’re allowed to exercise freedom in deciding what counts as necessary information, but basically if you think you could’ve gone through a scene without seeing that flashback and understood what was happening just fine, take a sip. recaps only count for one sip because they’re easily skippable, but if you get the rare “flashback within a flashback” take several sips

anyways. we pick up right were we left off with izuku asking all might if he could be a hero without a quirk. i feel so sad for him in these first two ish episodes. he’s really going through it right now :(

izuku looks to all might for an answer, but he’s been magically replaced by this skeleton man! horrifying!!!

hey it’s another tatooin place! so it’s probably an area within musutafu and not just the name of that one station

hey! look who made it out of there alive! hey, if the slime villain was in two bottles, whatever happened to the other half of him? is that part just gone? does he reconnect at some point? what the fuck is the sludge villain even made of anyways?

that’s a flashback! take a sip

katsuki and his two goons show up in this random ass alleyway. what are they even doing here? is this supposed to be a shortcut to the shopping district? out of it?

katsuki makes a little blunder by kicking the bottle with the sludge villain in it. why was the cap screwed on so loosely? bottle caps don’t come off that easy on their own. i guess maybe the sludge villain was working on unscrewing it? i dunno man

oof, two in one scene. take a sip!

katsuki blows up this can and then proceeds to throw it on the ground. littering isn’t cool, katsuki, don’t be a douchebag

oh my god, is that fingers kid??? he survives!! that’s more than can be said for tsubasa lol. in this shot, katsuki’s goons talk about going to a bar to pick up chicks. how they think a couple of middle schoolers could get allowed in is. crazy. but katsuki shoots them down because while he might be a huge douchebag, he’s also kind of a square

in a moment of instant karma, the sludge villain somehow rapidly expands in size and grows teeth just in time to punish katsuki for littering. also this shot’s pretty cool

and so we arrive at episode 2, the second part of the preamble, so to speak. the fact that nearly a third of the episodes in season one are basically just a glorified prologue can be off putting to some, but we’re taking our time here and languishing in the slower pace.

ah, that reminds me,

skeleton man.

the izumi curtis of it all. i’d also like to point out that several seconds ago, izuku called all might an imposter. skinny might sus?

all might likens his strange and definitely quirk based transformations to sucking in your gut at the pool

nows a good a time as any to talk about it, so let’s discuss more english castings! i actually love christopher sabat as all might. i grew up on a lot of anime dubbed by funimation, and his was a voice that appeared very often throughout many. it might just be nostalgia, but i think that he does a great job with all might. he’s pretty good at mimicking miyake’s all might laugh. in his muscle form he reads a little more major armstrong, but in his skinny form he is full on piccolo from dbz, which really just tugs at my nostalgia strings

izuku is generally shocked and so all might decides to just. sit down and explain. five years ago, he got into a fight that took out most of his respiratory system and all of his stomach. not actually sure how that works out. his wound here is gruesome and also… kind of confusing. what exactly did that to him? i’d guess he probably got impaled to some degree, but it sort of looks like whatever caused that scar was twisting him. like a fucked up skin whirlpool

also, fun fact, the anime actually put the scar a little too low on all might’s body. it’s supposed to be a little further up, less stomach and more chest

all might’s entire situation is kind of tragic. that’s definitely the intent here, but it’s a very sad thing that all might accidentally (or maybe on purpose) built up around himself. he made himself into a symbol of peace so that japan would have someone to look to in times of crisis, but by taking on that burden all by himself, he only ever really plugged up a dam. eventually, all might is going to fall, and japan won’t have anything like him to look to afterwards. and we all know how that goes.

all might tells izuku that he doesn’t think izuku can be a hero without a quirk. and i think that a lot of that comes from all might’s more cynical view of the world in recent years, but i think a part of it comes from the fact that all might was once quirkless and thought he couldn’t do anything on his own. nana may have raised him up and given him purpose, but she also reinforced the idea in his mind that quirkless means powerless. it doesn’t, but that’s not a story we’ll ever see explored.

all might says that police officers are kind of bullied because heroes tend to be the ones bringing in villains. i am happy about this because i hate cops. unfortunately for me, heroes are basically all cops in this show as well, except somehow even worse. i wonder what japan thinks of their pigs. i know that cops aren’t as shitty in other countries, but as an american it’s hard for me to even conceptualize a world where cops are monstrous individuals. what was i talking about? right, heroes

after literally shattering this middle schooler’s dreams, all might proceeds to leave him on a roof with a fairly low fence around it. my guy does not ever think.

in a moment of instant karma, the sludge villain disappears from all might’s pockets right after he breaks a middle schooler’s spirit

woah an explosion in the distance! izuku gets kind of excited for a second because he wonders what hero will show…

… only to flash back to, i shit you not, not even five minutes ago. this is mha’s most egregious kind of flashback— the ones that take place in the same fucking episode. it’s actually insanity. do you think i have the memory of a goldfish? take a sip.

izuku immediately loses steam, but even still, he wanders in the direction of the villain attack all the same. also, the track “rampaging evil” starts playing, and it’s here that i’d like to draw attention to the fact that mha actually has kind of a bangin soundtrack? i’ll probably remember to mention it here and there, but mha has a lot of musical bits that i don’t see discussed a lot that are actually kind of fucking cool as hell. anyways

the sludge villain has taken control of katsuki and is either somehow puppeteering his body to make explosions, or redirecting katsuki’s panicked involuntary explosions where he wants them. he? i don’t actually know the sludge villain’s pronouns, i just assumed.

meanwhile, katsuki is going through what is probably the most traumatizing moment of his life. so far, anyways.

and here we see another flaw of the hyper competitive heroics industry: the fact that while everyone wants to jump in and be the one to stop the villain, none of them are willing to work together to formulate a plan of attack.

they’re all just off doing their own things saying “someone else will handle the villain” without bothering to make sure that that “someone else” is actually there

they come to the conclusion that “our quirks aren’t suited for this” and so they decide to stand around and wait until someone with a fitting power steps in to do something

all might arrives on the scene, but he’s still kind of crippled, so he can’t do jack shit. so he joins the other heroes in standing around and waiting for some other hero to come along.

… oh, hi izuku.

#2022 mha liveblog #season 1 #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #all might #bakugou katsuki

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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Signs

Geralt of Rivia x reader (smutty fic)

Word count: 2.371

Disclaimer: Witcher signs and some kind of smut

Author’s note: I’ve been reading a bunch of snippets from Andrzej Sapkowski’s Witcher books and one of them described a meeting between Eskel and Triss. Triss was taken aback when he touched her, because his Witcher skin triggered “pleasant, but piercing vibrations”. WELP. I don’t know about you, but; count me horny, girls.

Go to Signs part 2 or read Signs part 3

Simmering eyes. That’s how you’d describe them.

Throughout the night they had made sure to land at least a dozen times on your form as you drank and danced with your fellow townsfolk, the beast now defeated and your lives saved. But it had not been a knight in shining armour that had fended off the beast. No. It had been him, a weary man in tattered boiled leather armour, his face studious and ..simmering.

It fascinated you.

Between the dances you’d steal glances at the peculiar stranger, the flames of a fire that roared in the middle of the square dancing over his face as his large hand thumbed over his cup of mead. With those peculiar eyes he watched some flirty wenches, their giggles bouncing off the buildings that surrounded the square, some young men trying to steal their attention for the night. But, what these wenches seemed to forget was that there was probably only one who could TRULY show them a good night.

Him.

That is..if the stories were true. Weren’t Witchers known for their outstanding stamina..and..eh..*aherm*.. virility?

The very idea of what could be hiding beneath that worn leather armour made your legs tingle and cheeks grow hot, the song you were dancing to ending and your partner thankfully not noticing the sudden heat that crossed your face. ‘Thank you.’ You mumbled at him before turning on your heel, wishing to step out to refresh yourself but finding yet another suitor before you.

Him.

Like in a blur he offered you a gracious greeting bow, white hair slipping over his wide shoulders before he rose to full height again, his frame towering a good foot above you. There was not really a question in whether or not you’d accept this dance, his feet already stepping closer, pushing you back into the dancing circle as a new tune was struck.

He hadn’t danced with anyone else yet, so you couldn’t help but feel both confused and flattered at once, more heat rising to your cheeks as you finally managed to take a good close look at the Witcher. And dare you say..he was a rather pleasant specimen to look at. High cheekbones, strong jawline. And those eyes. Those eyes!

‘I was about to cool down for a bit.’ You smiled sheepishly, receiving a wolfish grin from him. ‘Well I am just warming up.’

His voice was deep and honey, rumbling through his chest like a summer thunder. Delightfully so. You couldn’t help but become putty before he even inched close enough to start the dance, the rest of the crowd already twirling and laughing around you. It was as if the late summer air had grown more thick and the fires burned more brightly when the White wolf raised his arms in a dancing stance, your arms quick to follow suit and interlace fingers with his. And how. You weren’t sure if it was the mead in your blood or the heat of his touch, but like little sparkles, a strong force emitted from his being. It buzzed from his skin.

Like magic.

Then again. Witchers did indeed use some type of magic. So perhaps..just maybe..maybe he..You looked back up in his eyes, mirth shining there as he gripped you more tightly, an arm sneaking around your lower back before pulling you incredibly close. You didn’t know this man’s name. Where he was from. Or if he even WAS a man to begin with. But here you were. Noses nearly touching, eyes melting into one another as his feet started manoeuvring you with effortless grace through the crowd.

He hadn’t looked like much of a dancer, but apparently he was one for pleasant surprises. Light feet did not once mislead, even now you could feel the heat and alcohol happily buzzing through your foggy brain. It was like you were floating, the thick crowd around you forgotten as you looked up, studying the Witcher. His countenance seemed far less reserved now you were so close to him. In fact, he seemed to have fun. A sparkle hid in the severity of his tight jaw, focused eyes, fingers tracing some deliberate circles over your back as you moved.

‘What is it you see?’ He grumbled again, eyes flicking back to meet yours, sending with it yet another shivery tremble through your nervous thighs. Oh, what was it with this man that made you so weak at the knees? Quickly recomposing yourself you laughed, the sound tinkling above the joyous banter of the crowd. ‘Oh Witcher. I guess I.. see you.’ You winked and leaned a little more into the arm he kept snuggly held around your back, trusting him to support you.

‘You are not afraid.’ He stated, as if nearly surprised, golden eyes studying you as you looked ahead to see where you were going - he was steering you to the outer ring of the dancing crowd, where the couples danced more slowly. Less erratically. But thereby offering opportunity to talk. And be more acutely aware of those sparks that seemed to dance on the Witcher’s skin.

A strange feeling indeed.

‘Curious, mostly.’ You smiled.

‘About what?’

‘You.’ You said, shrugging nonchalantly. Was that the alcohol talking? You were glad that you were old enough to have built a life of your own, your parents never having to hear about this..whorish..act on your behalf. Dance with a monster? Speak the tongues of seduction? Were you insane?!

‘And why is that?’ He enjoyed it.

Another jolt washed through you. Was he..was he doing that on purpose? You eyed where your hands were connected, his grip tight and warm around your proffered palm. You couldn’t see anything, but..

*spark*

HE WAS DOING IT AGAIN.

‘Ho-how..?’ You breathed, blinking as you obviously felt something. Not only in your hand. Also..*aherm*..eh..down between your thighs. The Witcher laughed, hands pulling you even closer, nose now brushing close to the shell of your ear. ‘I can smell you.’ He whispered huskily, the timber of his voice making yet another shiver run over your skin.

Alright, whether or not you were a whore. He was intriguing. You had to give him that. And the alcohol in your veins was definitely not helping, your lips curling up, all on their own accord. ‘Hahah..and what is it you are smelling good lord?’ - ‘Hmm. I’m afraid I am no lord, milady.’

‘Well I am not a “milady”, sir.’

‘And I am no “sir” either…wren.’

‘Wren?’ You shook your head in amusement. ‘I am no bird..wolf. You see, I cannot fly.’ You managed to escape his arms, fluttering your arms playfully at your sides as you slipped into the more wildly dancing inner circle, leaving the Witcher behind. The Witcher’s grin grew, nose sniffing the air to follow your scent.

‘I’ll make you.’

—

You knew he was not far behind. With fast feet you sped through the crowd, moving closer and closer to the fire that centred the village square. The heat was blazing here, making the dancing sweat on your muscles loosen again, small droplets gathering in the back of your neck. Looking around carefully you couldn’t see him. All you saw was a few hundred people minding their own business; drinking, dancing, making merry. And quite naughtily so. Your eye fell on a pair that was no longer moving in the crowd, feet halted and hands tugging at half-undone clothes, fingers roaming where they probably shouldn’t in public. The woman’s stays were leaving little to the imagination, her voluptuous chest near spilling out as the man duck down to lick the deep crevice between.

‘You fly not far.’ Him again, dark voice humming in your ear. You jolted up, wishing to flee again, but this time there was no room, no way, the fire blocking one side and his large chest the other. ‘I told you I can’t…-’ You turned to protest, but lost your train of thought as he pressed his nose back up against yours, nudging it. He was so close and the fire was so hot in your spine that you could literally feel yourself melt, feet not managing to get away even if you wanted to.

The wolfish grin returned and with half an eye the Witcher also peered at the naughty couple a few meters ahead, their tongues now dancing. You couldn’t help but steal the moment yourself to just stare at him, the close flames now brightening up his whole face until no hair or scar could be missed. He WAS handsome to a fault. Even the small scar just above his eyebrow seemed to only enhance his looks, those simmering honeyed eyes now turning back to you as his thumb brushed up over your cheek, feeling the slight stick of sweat there before he gripped your jaw.

His fingertips sparked again with that energy, that magic, a cold shiver running down your spine despite the heat of fire and flesh around you. It awoke that barely cooled down slick between your thighs, your legs awkwardly wishing to squeeze and rub together to alleviate the frustration that was steadily building there. And the Witcher..he didn’t seem to miss your condition, lips tugging up in a smile as he leaned even closer, lips now nearly touching yours, fingers cupped your face in two large hands, tipping your head back for easy access.

And you allowed it. Whore! Whore!

‘Little wren.’ The Witcher broke through your thoughts, fang-like teeth appearing behind his silky lips. His smile was strange. But you couldn’t care, your eyes already lost in those burning orbs of gold. This man could do anything with you as he seemed fit, that much was clear as you didn’t protest one bit, body mush beneath his tingling fingertips.

*SPARK*

You gasped as that same energy surged more strongly through his finger pads, shooting straight down your spine and out your nerve endings. Making that coil inside your stomach twist and twirl.

His smile grew.

Slowly one of his hands dipped lower, travelling a slow and tantalising path down your neck, thumb finding the top of your stays, just hidden beneath your simple blue cotton dress. More sparks buzzed as four more fingers joined his thumb, a full hand now placed on your bosom, your breath choking in its confines. ‘Please.’ You begged - though you were not sure what for, his lips still awfully close to yours. He did, however. A silent gasp glued to your lips as he dipped down, lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, placing a gentle kiss there. The combination of wild electricity, a two-day old beard and soft plushy lips was almost worth flying for. Almost.

With trembling legs you quivered beneath his touch, the hand that had rested on your bosom quick to swoop around your lower back again, pressing you impossible close as his lips nibbled on, finding the line of your jaw, cheekbone, his breath hot on your already heated skin. Even his lips seemed to elicit power. Small, but piercing little vibrations running through your nerve endings at every brush of his silky touch.

Again, it felt like you were floating, though this time the dance was different. It was..not dancing at all. Was this flying, then? Your legs could no longer stand as your eyes rolled closed, body giving in to the pleasure that sparked in your loins. How could he do that without even touching you down there? Lolling your head back for a moment his lips took the opportunity to travel down your neck, nipping and nudging you further to the frayed edge of reason. But you needed more before you could truly fall - or fly. Opening your eyes you were met with those simmering yellow orbs again, his lips and hands not hesitating to give you what you needed. It was like he could read your mind, the hand on your lower back travelling lower, pressing your hip into the curve of his arousal, hot and throbbing beneath his breeches.

And sending off an energy that broke your lips apart again.

‘Oh my..’ You breathed, your parted lips an invitation he couldn’t refuse, his kiss now finally placed where it was needed. Sweet, honey..sparkles, his tongue brushing hot and velvety inside, sending more energy through your limp limbs until all you could do was give in. Give in to his hard softness. His sweet tanginess. His..Wait, tanginess? Blood? You only noticed now that he had bit down on your lip, tongue soothing back over the small nip. But could you care? Not as of right now. With a groaning moan you bit back, his upper lip caught between your teeth as the hand on your bum now rubbed you more fiercely against his clothed erection, the many layers between you only causing more friction. More…

ARGH

It was like there were a hundred hands caressing your skin, tingling and tickling and loving and..OH SWEET MERCY! His lips retook the reigns, forcing your lips apart again as his tongue delved deeper into you, sending with it the last of HIS mercy, your whole body now convulsing in his tight grip.

Flying.

It took a good long moment to realise that the dance had ended and people were changing partners again, making it a perfect moment to escape. But it wouldn’t be alone. Your legs wobbled dangerously - as if drunk - the Witcher now leading you back to the outer edge of the square, his arm strong as steel around your trembling physique. Once you were back in the calm, he turned, thumb brushing over your swollen lips, finding a little blood there. ‘Ai. A wounded bird.’ He studied the small gash that he had made in your lip, but all you could do was smile, the spark of his touch numbing all pain.

‘Better kiss me to make it better.’

‘Hmm.’ He smiled, then slowly shook his head once. ‘No.’

‘No?’ You felt hurt by his sudden refusal. Was he just going to discard you after..after…?!

‘I know something else to do. But not here…’ He leaned in closer, nose sniffing in your scent - and your arousal - again.

‘..little wren.’

Go to Signs part 2 >

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sassooda · 3 years ago

Text

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 23 - Control

w/c - 6,439

Shoko is standing on the left side of Satoru as he lays unconscious on the medical table. The room is bright under the fluorescent lights, the walls white to match the tiled floor. “I never thought he would be one to wind up in here…” She looks up to Toji and Nanami, “I can definitely fix him up but are the seals really necessary?”

“That fucker lost his mind and went after Megumi.” Toji huffs as he looks down at Satoru. He’s still shirtless after using his wings to fly to the scene and then to fly the bastard back to the academy. Blood still on his off-white pants.

“They are indeed necessary because if he wakes up in that same state, we won’t be able to control him.” Nanami finds himself extremely torn on the idea of sealing Gojo’s powers, he really would rather get through to him if that were possible.

“So it was that bad, huh?” Shoko switches her gaze to Satoru as she continues to heal him. “This is just a hunch but I’m guessing there are certain levels of your newfound abilities Toji…” She runs her hand across Gojo’s forehead, brushing his hair away, “His infinity doesn’t recognize Elska at all, her transmitted wavelengths of energy disrupt their continuous flow.” She now looks back to Toji. “Did you feel or notice anything different when the attacks landed on him?”

Toji crosses his arms as he leans against the wall a few feet away, “It did feel different…almost like an additional surge from within packed the extra punch.” Some of his chest muscles twitch as he relives the powerful feeling.

“Megumi also reported that the exchange happened because Satoru was targeting the city…” Nanami’s voice minimizes knowing that he’s being put in an impossible situation in regards to other’s safety. He’s taking off his tanned suit jacket to become a little more comfortable.

She walks over to the table that has Elska’s bloodied wing and runs her hands along the metal feathers. “Toji, how are you feeling right now?”

“I’m fucking on edge what do you think?” Toji didn’t mean to be so snippy, he’s just feeling out of sorts.

“When was the last time you fed?” Shoko seems to be thinking heavily as she walks across the room for sample scraping tools.

“Two days.” Toji clenches his fists as he thinks about Elska being in the hands of the enemy.

“That’s not good.” Shoko is still completely composed after taking in all the information. “I’ve worked with Elska on this in the past, I may be able to create something to hold you over. This wing right here is the key to it all.”

All three of their eyes take to the wing. Toji winces as his eyes meet it.

“If I can’t though, you’ll have to feed from someone else…” She looks over to Gojo, “We know his blood suffices for Elska so maybe that would work too.”

“He tastes like SHIT I am not interested.” The very thought of having to find nourishment through Gojo makes his skin crawl. “Please do what you can but I’m planning on rescuing them.”

“Her original purpose for being brought to this world was to eliminate Satoru…” Nanami finally chimes in, “…but now we know anyone else like her might hold the same capabilities as well. What I don’t understand is, if there was an entire world of people like this, why choose her when she wasn’t willing?”

“That is strange, I wonder why as well…” Shoko is now leaning over the wing on the waist high white countertop, scraping away tissue into a petri dish. “I’ll get on this right away Toji, just don’t go losing your cool too!” She winks at him as she applies the lid to the dish and sets it by her row of microscopes.

Toji is trying his best to remain calm due to everything that has happened but his heart breaks at the thought of the kid and her being in Getou’s hands. “We have to get them.”

Shoko is now back to healing Satoru, using her energy’s wavelengths to assist Gojo’s reverse technique to improve the rate at which it takes. “I’ve got this covered here if you two have other business to handle.”

“We are not leaving you alone with him until we know he’s mentally stable.” Nanami’s tone was law in this accord, his mind made up.

Just then Satoru shows signs of stirring. Toji jumps from the wall and is ready to strike if Gojo isn’t well. Nanami takes a step forward to be beside Toji with the same intent in mind. They all have to turn their eyes from the blinding blue light emitting from the talismans wrapped around his body, acting like restraints to assist the metal ones over his wrists and legs.

“What…what the…” Gojo’s eyes open slowly as he tries to move his body, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” Upon recognizing that he’s restrained he’s thrown into a wild reaction, jolting his body around trying to break free. “NOT AGAIN!!!!!!” He roars as his wounds begin to reopen, not having been fully addressed by this time.

Shoko hurriedly moves back to the side of him and slaps him across the face. Toji and Nanami gasp before charging over to the table.

“Gojo, what the FUCK do you think you’re doing acting this way?” Her voice is stern, almost motherly as she expresses her disappointment to his recent actions.

Gojo didn’t feel the pain from the slap but the action was enough to catch his attention. He glares up at her hatefully for a few seconds before his eyes water, following his features softening. “Why…why do you guys have me sealed like this…WHY?” He struggles a little more but not as rapidly as before. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU GUYS?” He snaps his head over to Toji and Nanami as he fears he’s been betrayed.

“Satoru, do you not recall trying to level the city?” Nanami is calmly walking towards his friend and even grabs his wrist gently. “You also tried to hurt Megumi…”

Gojo’s eyes are panicked as he listens to Nanami’s words. He doesn’t recall at first and thinks this is some weird psychological punishment of some sort so he yells like a mad man while flailing in the restraints, throwing his body against the metal table. “I wouldn’t attack Megumi!!! What the fuck!?”

“But you did shit head, you put my boy in your domain…” Toji’s face is completely burned over with discontent. “I had to break in to get him out.” Toji is snarling at the memories.

Gojo has a flash of realization as he does indeed remember doing the things he’s accused of. His eyes take to the ceiling, ignoring Shoko to his left and the men in the room. He tears up as he recalls viciously trying to end both Toji and Megumi. “Fuck…”

“You are far too powerful to lose control like that Gojo, you know better than this.” Shoko is wiping his tears away as they spill from the corners of his eyes. “You are one of my closest and oldest friends, I know you. What do you think Elska would say to that?”

Immediately Gojo begins to cry as the overwhelming facts of his Elska and Itadori reclaim his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He takes a second to breathe and control himself, “Getou is going to do horrible things, he already has.” He exhales heavily through his teeth as he looks to Shoko, “I’m sorry…” He then turns his head the best he can to look at Toji and Nanami, “Her wing…he ripped it out of her…” He wails in frustration as he considers his predicament. She is in trouble and he’s once again unable to move. That alone breaks him slightly. “I just want them back…”

Nanami squeezes his friend’s wrist with concern. “We’re going to get them Satoru but we need your help.” He frowns as he looks over the talismans that are still slightly glowing blue where the kanji ink sits. “You can’t do that again, I probably shouldn’t even risk letting you out of this.” His brow furrows further and he removes his tinted glasses to look into Gojo’s eyes.

Gojo is clearly agitated by Nanami’s words but understands where he’s coming from. He’s just in an odd post-traumatic state from when he was sealed before. His pain that he was able to ignore from the sudden adrenaline begins to set in. “God damnit, why am I hurting so bad?”

“I had to put a few holes in you before you stopped you obnoxious cunt.” Toji hasn’t made any effort to come closer now that he sees Gojo speaking, he doesn’t care to offer him any comfort either. “Next time you go after my boy though, that’s it…I’ll fucking kill you. We now know that I can too.”

Gojo’s eyes darken as they take to Toji’s direction. He doesn’t appreciate being spoken to like that, he’s still the strongest after all.

“Toji, that’s not helping but Gojo,” Shoko directs his chin to face her, “You understand the position you’ve put us in, right? We need to know that you’re good before we let you out of this.”

Gojo grunts and closes his eyes to regain his composure. That collected state of mind almost feels foreign to him as the recent events have skewed time, making it seem like 2 days were actually 2 years. “I get it.” Is all he says

“Now let me heal you up, it’ll be faster than your own technique that’s not used to healing you.” She smiles at him lovingly, knowing that he has to feel incredibly small like this. She has a lot of love for Gojo, they went through the academy together and have been the right kinds of strange to mesh well in a friendship. She’s also very taken by Elska and Itadori, as people and as scientific anomalies.

Nanami looks down to Gojo and smirks, “Maybe we need alcohol again.” A little chuckle leaves his lips as he brushes his own hair back. He sees Satoru smile briefly as well and it brings him a little more at ease. “I know you care about them a lot Satoru but we need to go about this as a team. You can’t just go around hurting people, you’re past that now.”

Gojo’s eyes water slightly to this as he knows Nanami is probably the only person that is completely familiar with Gojo’s evolution of becoming a better man. He knows he messed up severely and also recognizes that if he doesn’t get his shit together soon then they’ll have that much less of a chance to save the two of them. “I know…” He takes in another deep breath, grasping more sanity and the room seems to relax as the talismans finally stop glowing.

“I do know that they want to enlist Sukuna as one of their own so Itadori might not be as in much danger. Getou hates Elska though which is why I think he did what he did…” Toji looks to her wing instinctually and feels a pit in his chest. ‘Master…” echoes through his ears internally. “Naoya contacted me recently…” He sees Gojo’s eyes dart in his direction, “It was before all of this obviously you dumb fuck. He was asking for my help with making her a Zenin…he doesn’t seem to trust Getou’s intentions either.”

“They’re both irreplaceable to us and in many ways.” Nanami is now leaning against the metal table with his back by Gojo’s legs. “What of your inside man Toji?”

“I’ve tried to contact Choso and Naoya both, they aren’t answering.” Toji unfolds his arms and walks to the foot of the metal table, being the last one to surround him. He grabs Gojo’s ankles firmly and says, “Are you going to make me save them by myself you fucking fool?” His mannerisms are unkind but there’s a trace of friendliness as well.

“I want them back…” Gojo looks to Toji, not acknowledging his hands on his ankles.

Toji may not necessarily like Gojo but knows they have a common goal. “I wish I could say that Naoya would be protecting her but I don’t understand how Getou got ahold of her wing if he was…I actually fear the worst there.”

“I hate to say it but I don’t think Naoya would’ve allowed that either.” Gojo is trying his best to remain calm as they discuss the severities further. “I know he cares about her, it was written all over his face when we last met.” Gojo proceeds to think of that weird dynamic and situation from when Elska and everyone saved him before. A part of him begins to imagine Naoya wrapping his arms around her protectively and for some reason he’s not enraged by it but feels saddened. ‘God Damnit…’

“I do know that Naoya and Choso are likely to break away from Getou but he’s strong. If we do succeed in defeating him, then we’ll have to worry about the Zenin clan immediately afterwards.” Toji has since removed his hands from Gojo and is folding his arms again, “But perhaps we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I’ll kill them all if I have to.” Gojo’s voice wasn’t erratic or even emotional but it disturbed everyone in the room.

“If you want to make her situation better then you absolutely cannot just fucking kill everyone Satoru, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Nanami is losing his patience, knowing that Gojo is capable of controlling himself but is wondering if Gojo’s just declining to do so.

“I JUST WANT THEM BACK DAMNIT!” Gojo tries to lift up from the table but his neck will only bend so far while laid out flat causing him to give up and hit the back of his head.

“Take a few to cool off Satoru. We’re not letting you out until you do.” Nanami is always so forward but knows it’s for the best. Sugar coating this for him won’t do anything but bite them in the ass later.

“Fuck you.” Gojo is back to staring at the ceiling.

“I love you too buddy.” Nanami cackles to Gojo’s response. He felt the truth in his words but also understands his friend pretty well, knowing that he’s just reeling in the fact that they lost Itadori and Elska. Everyone is upset about it so he knows Gojo being her protector is especially fueled.

“Shoko, can’t I at least kill them?” Gojo’s eyes are no longer dark as he shoots them somewhat playfully to her.

“You crack me up Gojo!” She’s laughing at his deflective behavior as she rests a hand on his shoulder, “No you may not.” She’s serious but is still giggling. “There’s one more thing though…” Gojo is curiously looking to her, “I need some of your blood.”

“Well I’m not really in the position to refuse now am I?” He keeps trying to sit himself up as he grows more frustrated with being pinned lying down.

“It’s for the greater good, I promise!” Shoko smiles to him widely as she decides to hold off on explaining that it’s for Toji. Their relationship still seems pretty tumultuous at the moment.

“Go ahead then…” Gojo is fighting his anger as he comes to terms with the fact that they’re trying to help. “Do we have any plans in the making? How the fuck do we even find them without Choso?”

“I’ll work on that angle.” Toji is determined to contact one of them.

“And I’ll start putting a team together.” Nanami is grabbing his folded suit coat as he seems to be leaving the room. “Can I trust you Satoru?”

“I’m fine I promise…I won’t attack anyone…” Gojo tries to look over to Nanami but can’t. “Just get me out of this PLEASE.”

“I’m going to finish healing you first so why don’t you just sit back and relax for a few.” Shoko smiles to him again and is relieved to see that Gojo will comply. “Alright boys, do what you have to do, we’re ok here!”

Gojo’s eyes meet Toji’s again as the massive man stares him down. He can tell that Toji is still unsure about him and figures there was no getting around that. Instead of inciting more aggression from him though he just scoffs and looks away, not liking the feeling at being to their mercy at all.

“I’ll be back in a little bit to check on everything.” Toji now goes to leave the room.

When left alone Shoko grabs Gojo’s hand and holds it with both of her own. “Sweetie, you really have to be mindful, ok? Especially now that we know that Toji can hurt you… I don’t want any of that so please…please just get along alright?” Gojo’s eyes are expressing annoyance but she continues, “I know you miss them and are worried about her but we will get them back.” She now squeezes softly to administer more emotion to him. “She would be devastated if anything happened to you, is that what you want?”

“I just want to know they’re ok… I need her Shoko. I always have…”

“I know, I know… and we’ll fix all of this but you’re imperative for the rescue so knock off the villain shit alright?” She now brushes up and down his arm as she feels him relax more. “That’s not you anymore...you have to control it.”

He tears up again to hearing this, knowing he’s still actually quite evil on the inside but she knows this too. She’s merely asking him to keep himself in check.

“I will…but when I get my hands on Getou, I’m ripping his fucking body in two.”

“Now that I won’t argue against, he’s a lost cause.” They both smile at the verbally murderous exchange and he quietly thanks her as he breathes deeply to let her continue her healing.

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

Naoya is heading back to Elska’s room with haste, not liking the idea of her being unguarded for even a second. He holds in his hands traditional styled yukatas threaded by his Zenin blue. He meant to already have clothes ready for her but completely forgot to incorporate that into the design of the room. He remembers how a couple of hours ago she asked him, “So, Naoya? Am I to just remain naked here or what?” She was half kidding but her shaman uniform that she arrived in was completely trashed by that point. He felt so embarrassed at missing such a huge detail, hoping that she knew he didn’t do that on purpose.

As he walks down the hall towards her room he catches Choso heading the opposite direction. “Cho!” He calls out to see the being halt and turn around. By the time he makes it to Choso, he’s standing a few doors away from Elska’s room. “Hey so how did it go with Ita-…”

“Naoya, cease your words!” Choso seems on edge and Naoya starts to worry that perhaps their reunion didn’t go as planned.

“There’s a Titer here, I can feel their technique.” Choso whispers cautiously. “I don’t know what they’re watching or doing… but someone definitely is. We can’t talk right now.”

Naoya’s eyes widen to this, thinking Getou enlisted one to force Elska’s cooperation and he darts to and through her door quickly. “ELSKA! Are you alright?!” He runs into the room in a frenzied state but finds her sitting on the couch with a book, unharmed and alone. “Holy SHIT, my heart!”

“I’m…fine?” Her look is of confusion as she sees Naoya’s demeanor ease and looks at all the fabric he’s carrying. “What is all of that?”

“Clothes!” He smiles and sets them down on the arm of the couch before going back out into the hallway to look for Choso but he was gone already. He fears he’ll be unable to openly speak to Choso about this now but figures he’ll find a way to communicate with him. He now shuts her door behind him as she’s already standing up and trying to figure out the cloth.

“You brought me bath robes?” She giggles as she holds up the top one, it looking too large to fit her.

“They’re traditional in my family and are called Yukata’s.” He smiles as he catches his breath and walks towards her, his anxiousness dissipating. She puts in on around her body, discarding the top silver sheet from the bed that she originally was wrapped in for modesty. He notices that she has not the first clue as to how to wear them. “That’s not at all how it goes,” He chuckles as he lifts the bundle of cloth to remove the under robe from the bottom of the pile the goes beneath it, “You can’t just be nude underneath this!!”

“Show me the way then Master Naoya” She jokingly offers a bow as she’s interested in learning exactly how to put all of it on.

He was in the process of wrapping the underwear robe before stopping to her words. ‘She said it…she said it!’ Hearing it felt better than he ever would have imagined, even if was in a different context than his fantasies. Seeing that she was bare he continued to help her with the dressing, smiling widely behind her as he adores this moment.

“No bra huh? I like this already!!” She places her arms through the sleeves and sees there’s two separate areas on both sides to tie it. She manages to figure this part out but as she’s tying the second knot, his arms wrap around her from behind.

“I’m so glad you’re alright…” he lowly speaks into her ear as he holds her there.

“I’ve not had any unexpected visitors if that’s what you’re worried about.” She places a hand on his forearm that’s draped above her chest.

He turns her around to face him and places a hand under her chin to lift her head towards him. “That’s good, it shall remain that way.” He leans in to kiss her lightly before grabbing the dark blue yukata. He opens it, outstretching his arms, allowing her to slide her right arm in first and then the left. She takes the robes and wraps them around her but he stops and corrects it. “The left side should always be on top, you wrap the right side against your body first.” He smiles as he shakes his head and positions the yukata properly. “Here hold it like this.” He waits for her to pinch the cloth on her right hip before he reaches for the first of two separate ties. “You first secure the robes with this!” He maneuvers the tie around her hips and waist before snugly knotting it on that same side. “You then have to either tie or tuck the rest of it. Now here, lift up your arms.” She does and he brings a second fastening cloth tie around her but this time beneath her bosom.

“You just wanted to touch me!” She giggles as he shrugs as if to agree but she knows there was more to this than just that.

“I always do” He finally retorts with kindness in his eyes. “You can put them down for now.” He’s shifting the fabric underneath the ties he’s made so that it overlaps in the front, hiding the fasteners. He then holds one hand on the front of her yukata while loosening the collar, “It’s also traditional to show off the nape of your neck but with class of course.” He creates the slack in the back of her collar and hums to how seductive she is, even with being fully clothed now. His lips meet her nape gently before he circles her again to grab the silver and black two-toned obi. “Typically this would be much more vibrant but these are what I was able to grab on short notice.”

“This is a lot of work!” She’s amazed by the process and how intricate donning traditional wear is. “I’m not so sure I would’ve figured this out on my own.” She’s laughing as he holds the thick long obi out in front of her, “That’s so long!”

“That’s what she said” He chuckles at his own joke nervously until she picks up on the meaning. He’s relieved she understood. He hangs and end of the obi over her right shoulder as he ties it from the front. “This goes behind you but if you’re really willing to learn I’ll demonstrate.” He gets down on his knees as he wraps it around her twice. The piece lying over her should now becomes orderly folded three times, to which he then grabs the other end of the obi to wrap it around the fold, creating an extravagant bow. “Now we just twist this behind you…” He’s back up to his feet as he shimmies it to the back. He backs away from her to take in the full view and finds himself overwhelmed with joy. “You look beautiful…”

She strikes a few little poses for him, finding that this was way harder to maneuver in than her normal clothes. She walks over to the mirror and stands back to see as much of it as she can. Naoya walks behind her and engulfs her body into his arms, them crossing underneath the obi. “Just like a princess…” He whispers behind her as he kisses the side of her head and cheek. He’s completely fine with seeing this for the rest of his life.

She turns around to face him and lean into the sink. Her hands cup his face as he leans down into her, their lips meeting passionately. The moment their tongues touch she feels her body temperature rising rapidly and her eyes glow through their lids. She feels him abruptly stop and instead of being met with his lustful eyes, she see’s that he looks concerned instead.

He pulls away after noticing the heat and the faintest trail of the scent. “Elska…” He fills his lungs with it while trying to remain focused. “We have to get that under control. It’s not safe for you if we don’t.” His words are almost at whisper volume again and she’s clearly picking up that there’s something more going on than she’s aware of.

“I don’t know if I can Naoya, you set them off randomly for me…” He brings her gaze to his chest as she lays her head against it. She just needs to be near him and loves it when he expresses the same urge.

“Well, we start training today then.” He grabs her shoulders and pushes her back a few inches so he can see her eyes. He’s back to whispering completely, “Getou doesn’t know about the pheromones or how your bite feels, it was an agreement Toji and I made months ago…” His hands start rubbing her shoulders, “If he finds out, I’ll be forced to kill him now…he’ll not let you go at that point.” Naoya wants her of course but knows that if they don’t figure that out soon then he won’t be the only one. ‘Getou knowing would spare her life automatically but at what cost?’ He’s not willing to find out.

“How exactly do we train for this then?” She’s not even sure how to go about that. “Even when I feed from you, it releases sometimes….” The hopelessness on her face is evident as she considers feeding less.

“If you react so rashly to me then maybe I shouldn’t be so handsy.” He immediately withdraws his caressing of her shoulder only to feel cold as he leaves her there standing without his touch.

“But I want you to be, you feel so good to me Naoya…” She’s upset that he’s right even if its not what she wants.

“Let’s try feeding for today then…maybe drink slower or something.” He’s realizing he doesn’t know how to train for this either. He’d probably feel a little more defeated about the whole thing if she wasn’t so pretty before him in his clan’s colors. “You really do look stunning in the Zenin blue.” His hand caresses her left cheek as the words leave his mouth. “I want to give you everything that I am but we have to survive this first my dear…” She nods in response and he feels a little less weighted about the situation.

He grabs her hand and brings her back to the couch as he sits down and guides her above. He’s sitting on something hard and pulls it out from underneath him. It was the book she was reading called ‘Lilith: The Best Mutual written by Nakiich.’ He smiles to her love for books and shifts their weight so can carefully place it on the cushion beside them. “Is it a good read?”

As her legs find their way on either side of him under her, she smiles and explains, “Yes it is! It’s a book that one of my favorite writers wrote about my other favorite writer.” She sees him not fully understanding, “It’s adult stuff Naoya, you’re too young for that.”

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her towards him as she squeals to his soft attack. “I’m pretty sure we’re about the same age my little minx.” He laughs, “You’ll just have to read it for me one day.” He’s still smiling but begins to unbutton his collar entirely so she doesn’t have to worry about working around it. She helps him by finishing the buttons while listening to the silence that’s only weakened by their breathing. When she’s finished he looks up to her glowing eyes and runs his hand up her left arm as she grabs his bicep for stability. “Remember to try going slower this time, we need to see if that’s a variable at all.”

She nods to him before aiming for neck. She stops as her face passes his cheek and pecs him on it before using her fangs to pierce him. His taste instantaneously forces a moan out her like it always does, the perfection that is his flavor has always swooned her. The sweetness of him, the care, the loyalty, his thoughts concerning her… everything was just so attractive.

He tries to hold his moan back but was unsuccessful as her draw from him feels nothing short of incredible. His hands find themselves gripping her thighs as she takes from him. “Go slow baby, we have to figure…figure this out.” He’s trying to remain level headed but is struggling to do so. He hears her whimpers and it causes him to grow beneath her. ‘No no little man…knock that off…’ he thinks as he fights so many urges at once. Her body temperature starts to rise as he feels his bulge nudging her. ‘Shit!’ He pulls her away as she pants above him, blood slowly spilling from his neck. She reaches down to close and heal the wounds and then opens her eyes.

She feels her heat regulating itself as she stares down into Naoya’s. She was close to releasing them but hasn’t fed enough nor is her other thirst quenched. Her physical thirst for him. “Naoya…” Her eyes are half lidded, her voice purposefully trying to entice him.

He looks up to her and hums as he battles himself. Of course he wants to take her to the bed but he’s worried about another incident like before occurring. He barely was able to lie his way out of that situation with Getou and isn’t even convinced that Getou believed him. “Elska… I don’t know if we should yet.”

She disagrees initially and bounces on him a few times, resting herself into his pitched tent. She whines his name again and she can tell he’s trying to hold back.

After her pressing the issue he shifts them both until he’s able to stand, her legs wrapping around him. She grins so widely and leans in to kiss him. He kisses her back but presses her back against the wall near the door. “Once we leave here, I swear by all that is good in this world that I will fill you as many times as you need. Whenever, wherever.” He kisses her cheek as he sees her understanding that he’s not going to have sex with her. “If I am to keep you safe my princess, then we have to be smart…now more than ever.” Her legs slowly release from around him and he sets her down gently onto her feet.

“Naoya, what else aren’t you telling me?” She’s frustrated with him but can’t be too angry. ‘He really does cherish me…’

His face is twisted in anger, “There’s a Titer somewhere on the premises… we don’t know what is being watched but I can almost guarantee it’s Getou using them, trying to figure you out…” He sighs as he engraves this moment into his brain, wanting to use this hatred for the man when the time comes to take him out.

“A Titer?” She knows she’s heard that before but asks him anyways for clarification. ‘That beast is watching us?’

“They’re a clan with mind altering capabilities and more… Gojo used them to manipulate your memories…” His eyes take to the wall beside her as he hates even speaking of that. He feels her hand cupping his face bringing back to face her own.

“That makes sense…” Is all she says while looking at him but her demeanor is still one that’s attentive to him. “Ok…I’ll stop pushing the issue…”

“It’s really difficult to refuse you Elska, I hope you understand how much I detest not making you happy.” He’s noticing that her yukata is already messed up and chuckles under his breath as he goes to reposition it.

“I don’t know how we’ll get through this part,” She laughs, “Because I am dripping over here.”

Naoya sighs heavily to this, knowing that he wants to check for himself but there’s no way that’ll end with anything other than melting into each other. “God damnit…why?” He throws his head back slightly as he tries to refrain from making any moves that may cause him regret. He thinks he has an idea of how to lessen the sexual tension but isn’t sure how to word it. She’s still looking at him caringly, her hands traveling around his arms. “Maybe…and just hear me out…” He feels himself blushing at the words he’s articulating while she curiously waits for what he has to say. “Maybe you should try…ummm…taking care of yourself before I come to see you.” He can’t even look at her and is embarrassed that he just suggested masturbation.

She quickly finds herself bellowing out laughter at how awkward he’s being. She doesn’t mean to tease him but she doesn’t want him to feel uncomfortable either, it was actually a legitimate possibility that could help. “Maybe if I do it to the thought of you.”

He quietly gasps at this and feels that didn’t hinder his erection at all. Unsure of how to react to her response he just looks at her and slowly smiles…he can’t even keep the straight face. “I will carry my weight and do the same…maybe to you as well.” The excitement in his words was painfully obvious to and he is now feeling awe at how easily they can communicate to each other.

“Maybe a bath will help to right now.” She sees his eye twitch after she spoke.

“You…you are killing me right now…” He says this but his vision is already taken by tub. He raises an eyebrow as he wonders if she’ll even be able to get out of the yukata by herself.

“I mean for you to join me Naoya…” She hugs him, resting her head into his chest as she doesn’t want to let him go, doesn’t want him to leave. “I swear I’ll stop trying to seduce you!” She’s back to giggling as this predicament is so strange altogether. She’s technically his prisoner but you wouldn’t guess that by their mutual affections, they seem almost domestic. “Don’t you want me to wash you again?”

“Arghhh, yes…yes I do…” He takes a deep breath to strengthen his resolve as he then grabs her hand and leads her towards the tub to turn on the water. ‘I can do this…no problem…’ He reaches around her to undo the obi, fighting with the damn thing for a minute, even with his expertise. One article of clothing at a time she’s reaching her bare state again. She looks up to him with an attitude as he’s yet to undress himself in the slightest. “Yes ma’am” He cackles as he doffs his own clothes. He feels her eyes scanning his body and although he loves that she’s so drawn to him, he wishes that fate would be less cruel. He steps into the tub as it fills, and holds her hand so she can do the same with ease. It’s such a large one but they seem to have found a single spot that they utilize, it’s the same one from the first bath together. As he sits back completely and follows her with his eyes, she leans over him to reach the small towels behind him tickled by his clear frustration as her breasts range in his face.

She starts with the blood on his neck from where he pulled her away earlier. He closes his eyes as he enjoys the feeling of his intended slowly wiping it away. He feels utterly relaxed as she kneels before him while the water fills their surrounding area. After she’s grazed almost the entirety his body with the towel, she goes to sit in his lap but in a curled-up manner that brings her head to his left shoulder and her knees near his right. His arms secure themselves around her and she begins to settle into him herself, also completely relaxed.

She wonders to herself how long this wonderful time with him will last. She’s tried not to think about the marriage part, she’s barely able to enjoy him without the guilt of knowing Toji and Satoru are probably worried sick. What would they think if they knew of how she spent her time there? She nuzzles into his chest deeper as she tries to forget the anxiety riddling her mind.

“Naoya…” she smiles into him as they soak in the filling tub.

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