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flokali · 1 year

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♢ I love you, I own you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub-con, penetration, coming inside, unprotected, undertones of misogyny, toxic parents, manipulation and gaslighting, obsessive, paranoid, and possessive behavior, toxic mindset, coerced submission, getting walked into, bribing, murder, torture, self-doubt and insecurities (mc), arranged marriage, implied financial insecurity, implied virginity (mc & childe), spoilers for tartaglia’s story/lore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unreliable narration (at times). ask to tag.

pairing: afab! fem! reader (bottom) x childe (top)

word count: 13.3k

a/n: ahhh; hopefully this is good >_< i love him so much… after almost a year, ‘tis done ^_^

part two: here

— 18+

Childe is horrified and incredibly angered, if not down right homicidal, when he finds out your parents planned to have you engaged to a no-name Fatui henchman, it’s only a further blow to his already weakened heart when the news don’t come from you nor your family but from the loud mouths of your “soon to be fiancé” and his goons. His blue eyes widen and he feels himself grow lightheaded, his stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out and, oh Celestia, he thinks he’s going to puke.

While perhaps not the most befitting behavior for a Harbinger, Ajax couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he had first heard the mention of your name and while he’s extremely glad he did, - he’s silently thanking the Tsaritsa for telling him now so he could do something - he almost wishes he didn’t as he’s now forced to go back to his office and wordlessly deal with the intrusive thoughts racing through his head.

All he can think about are the countless pinky promises you’d both made to each other during your childhood, the coos of both of your parents when they had first heard him declare his love for you, the feeling of your hands against his when you kissed his cheek goodbye before the fateful day he stumbled down the abyss, the way you and only you were the sole thing keeping him together during his time there, the way you sobbed in relief when he first approached you after emerging victorious from hell itself; did those moments mean nothing? Had only he been impacted by them? Had you forgotten his love for you - your love for him?

No, he thought as he marched to his desk, there’s no way - you had to have felt it too, you must have kept those memories deep in your heart as did he. You both were meant to be, childhood sweethearts, one soul in two different bodies, created from the same stars and carved out from the same earth, put into the same world to meet and love each other from your first life to the last. You were his and he was yours, you were one and the same, you were lovers - it was written in the stars and in his very flesh, it was a fact as true as his love for you.

His breathing is ragged and he can’t contain his shaking body, he never should have trusted your parents - they obviously didn’t have your best interest in mind, if they cared about you at all they would have never promised your hand to another, they would’ve realized he, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax, he was the best man for you.

Granted, they hadn’t heard from good little Ajax for years, not ever since he’d left for the Fatui - he only ever kept consistent correspondence with you and his family - but that’s no excuse, there was no excuse for their actions, they were disgusting pests that were blinded by greed. How much money had they taken to accept such a disgusting agreement? 500,000 Mora? No, that was too cheap… 1,000,000? 2,000,000? More? Maybe it was in the tens of millions, there was no way you were being given away for less, right?

“Ahhh,” the ginger sank in his chair, his trembling hands finding his hair and pulling at the soft strands in frustration, “what do I do now? What should I do? What should I do? Shit… this can’t be happening.”

He wanted to cry and destroy everything. Destroy that man, no… that poor, pathetic excuse of a man that had dared try and stake his claim on you. This wasn’t your fault, there was no way you knew – never once in your letters had you mentioned a lover nor a wedding, you would have told him - would have begged for him to save you - if you did know you must have cried and begged for them to not marry you to that bastard, sobbed as you muttered his - Ajax’s - name like a mantra, begging to be taken by him and finally wed to the true love of your life.

It felt like the world was falling and crushing him alive.

How could they do this to you? How dare they do this to you? To him, to you, to the both of you.

He could just have the man killed, sent on a suicide mission disguised as an essential step for gnosis hunting - maybe even under the pretense of a promotion, he was sure he’d accept anything, he was a no name soldier that would probably be forgotten by the next round of recruitment -, and make your parents go bankrupt, burn their house and have their businesses fail before delivering the final blow of jailing them due to fraud or maybe even executed under claims of treason; the thoughts calmed his rapid heart, if only slightly.

They needed to be taught a lesson, they shouldn’t put their dirty, greedy hands where they didn’t belong.

But no, that’d be too light of a punishment, and there would be so many loose threads - he’d rather be on good terms with your family - if only for you -, could it maybe be a misunderstanding? It could be, right? They were like family to him once, after all, and a part of him hates the idea of them having grown so vile and corrupted, they were supposed to be his in-laws and he’d rather his children have both sets of grandparents. Not to mention, you’d be so sad to see them gone, even if there was a chance they were worth nothing more than dirt.

No, that wouldn’t do, his wife couldn’t be sad - he’d confront them as soon as physically possible, question their actions and propose a better arrangement, and depending on their answer they would become the Fatui’s latest show of loyalty to the Tsaritsa or officially join the perfect future he’d dreamed of with you.

Yes, that’s what he’d do, his shaking heart finally comes to a rest as he begins to plan his trip. If things went south he could easily have his initial plan executed quickly, and while he doesn’t particularly like the idea of having to plan their execution arrangements, justice wasn’t always pleasant.

It’d be alright, surely all of this could be resolved through a mature, adult conversation. And if not, then Childe wasn’t a Harbinger for naught.

It takes him a few days until he’s able to find the time to meet up with your parents, though, honestly, it’s more like barging into your home unannounced and demanding answers. He has a job - a serious job, after all, one that demands his presence and takes true effort and work, unlike that shitty excuse of meat your parents wanted you to marry - and he had matters to attend to – after all forging evidence for a possible execution isn’t easy and he wants to be prepared, it was one of the few times where he wanted to come in with a proper battle plan.

He had it all planned out if things went south, a few reports here, some testimonies there, a lengthy transcript or two, a handful of bank reports, and soon your parents would look like traitors to the crown and be sentenced to public execution.

All he had to do was confront them in person. He wasn’t sure if your parents would be home, he hoped so as to not prolong such a troublesome process any longer, but he was willing to wait. He was getting his answers today, one way or another; he’d free you from this horrid arrangement and whisk you away to give you the life you truly deserved.

Luckily for him, you live in the same neighborhood as you always had, so no time had to be wasted searching for your family’s whereabouts. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to come back to his childhood neighborhood and he can’t help the giddiness in his heart as he strolls through memory lane while making his way down the streets you two shared a childhood in, it looked almost the same - a few differences here and there like a new house or someone’s place having been renovated, but it felt just like home. His parents had long since moved houses into a fancier side of the city, the money Childe managed to bring home as a Harbinger long since allowing them the luxuries that had once felt impossible, but he almost wishes they hadn’t as he spots your family’s humble abode, his heart longing back to the days of your shared youth.

It’s a two story house, built with strong wood made to resist Snezhnaya’s harshest winters and the cold summers, the roof was made of strong wood and designed so that snow would fall as to not sink, the front yard still held the swing you’d begged your parents for on your tenth birthday, the mailbox was still slightly crooked from the time he had head-butted it when racing you back from the park, the flowerbed still held the same flowers and plants that were able to withstand Snezhnaya’s harsh weather, the tree somehow still seemed to harbor the countless balls you two had gotten stuck there back when you were in your preteens; it was like it had been frozen in time, the only true difference he could spot was your older figure sitting on the front steps looking as if you were waiting for something, maybe someone; maybe him.

His heart stops as do his steps, he’d been so busy the last couple of years he hadn’t been able to pay you a visit in person, he’d had a few soldiers patrol the area before, but nothing could prepare Ajax for the surge of emotions that coursed through his body as he laid eyes on you.

Your body was taller and you had grown into your features, but you were still you - your eyes still shined with the hope and love he’d long since lost while your lips were still as tempting as he remembered. There was no doubt it was you, he’d recognize you anywhere; no matter how much you changed. But you looked sad, your lips downcast, your eyes filled with tears, and your frame hunched over, it was clear you were cold by the shaking of your frame but you didn’t falter - still sitting down with a flimsy blanket wrapped around you as you waited.

The scene made him pick up his pace, he was desperate to reach your side; what had happened? Why did you look so sad? Were you hurt? His men had not informed him of anything happening that would explain the crystal like tears that pooled in your eyes, just the sight was enough to have his blood boiling and fists shaking as he wondered who was responsible for the pain you so openly displayed.

Have you found out about Andrei and your parents’ sins? The thought of them being the reason for your sorrow made him grow dizzy with rage, but the negative feelings can only last so long as he has you in his sights. Your mere presence seemed to lull his emotional heart into a more tranquil state.

��[Y/N]?” Childe asked, he was only a few feet away from you but he didn’t dare walk closer, “Is that you?”

“A-Ajax?” Your eyes widened, hope evident in your voice and it’s like all traces of the previous pain in your face had vanished, “Oh, Ajax!”

You hesitate for a second before breaking into a smile when you realize it really was him. It almost looks like you want to burst into tears and he’s sure he probably doesn’t look any better, seeing you in the flesh after so long felt like a dream and as if every moment without you until now had been but a nightmare, he can’t help himself from running towards you and throwing himself into your arms. He looks older, definitely more mature, his is build stronger now - probably due to the fighting and training he endured as a Harbinger, you thought - but his smile was still the same, perhaps a bit empty but it still filled your heart with a warmth that could battle Snezhnaya’s unforgiving cold. It felt right to have him back in your arms as if time had never been cruel and taken him away from you, you could have sweared your worries disappeared the moment you took in his warmth.

His white coat floats through the air as he lands between your arms, and you can feel his smile in your chest as he hugs you tight.

He was finally home, he thought, in your arms and back in the neighborhood that had raised him - he was with you and that was all that mattered, the man was filled with so much ecstasy he could almost forget why he’d come here.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, your voice is shaky and the ginger feels himself melt at the familiar tone of your voice.

“I should be asking you that,” he laughs, his eyebrows becoming furrowed in concern as he speaks, “it’s freezing, darling, you shouldn’t be outside.”

“I… I was waiting for one of your letters,” you whisper shyly, during your time away from each other - weekly letters had been your primary source of communication, something you’d learn to love and cherish as one of the few forms of contact you and Childe could have without your parents knowing his dangerous job and position.

“You’re so cute,” he coos, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders as he realizes you were safe, if anything he feels ashamed he hadn’t been able to send you anything and caused you such pain, his heart aches as he tries to wrap around his head he may have hurt your feelings, his gloved fingers find your cheek and squeezes it tightly, “however, it’s too cold for you to be outside with just a blanket, my love.”

“I know,” you shake your head, you go to lift a hand to wipe the stray tears that had escaped you but Childe takes care of it for you as he delicately caressed your face, “it’s just, I hadn’t heard from you in almost two weeks and I got worried, I thought… maybe something had happened in Liyue and you’d gotten hurt.”

“O-oh… I’m sorry,” his deep blue eyes look downcast as he processes your words, “I never meant to worry you, I had so much to do and to say that instead of a letter I decided to come meet you in person, i-isn’t that better, love? I simply couldn’t be away from you any longer, it’s my fault, though, I should have told you so earlier, ahh… I can’t believe I’ve made my angel cry.”

A poor soldier would have their head cut off tonight, he thought, for he was certain he’d sent a bag full of letters meant to last you at least a full season to be delivered everyday to you while he arranged for this mess to be solved.

You nod as stars fill your eyes before shaking your head as if assuring him you were alright. You loved Ajax and you had loved him for almost all your life, from the moment you met him you’d been charmed by his boyish good looks and charisma, of course a few things had changed, but he was still your sweet Ajax, the boy who’d stolen your heart and kept it safely within his arms for as long as you’ve known him.

“Come on,” you signal him to stand up with a soft pat and the man has to stop himself from begging for more of your touch, “let’s go inside, you must be tired and we have so much to talk about.” He nods and lets himself be pulled up by you as you giggle and smile about finally being able to talk face to face after years of not being able to physically see each other.

You feel like a teenager again as you lead Ajax into your house, your heart beating like you were confessing your love for the first time - the excitement was practically the same, your head felt fuzzy from the warm feeling holding Childe’s hand gave you; you had missed him terribly. You feel like you were about to explode into a million piece from excitement, your head filled with everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Ajax’s face ever since he left, all the news that felt too important to simply write out and that had you hoping a day like this would finally come, you’re scared of coming off too intensely but your heart truly feels like it’ll burst from joy, unfortunately your excitement comes to an abrupt end when you finally drag him into your living room. You turn around to offer him a drink or something to eat, the trip from the capital all the way over here was a couple hours long and he’d always had quite an appetite, but you’re faced with a look of disappointment and slight anger as he looks around the room, your heart sinks - just seconds ago he was all smiles and laughter as you two embraced each other in the harsh winter, having created a warm paradise between each other, but now he looked as if he couldn’t stand to be in your house and you wonder if maybe you’d angered him somehow even though you logically knew you’d done nothing other than invite him inside.

Maybe you were overreacting, you think, you’d been quite paranoid as of recently, your family had been distant and you’d been feeling lonely and anxious for a while. It’d been an embarrassingly long time since you’d had guests over, at least, guests that mattered to you and hadn’t been your parents’ friends or siblings spouses. The look in Ajax’s face makes your stomach churn; had something happened?

“Are your parents home?” He asks, his voice tinged in a mixture of distaste and sadness, it’s lower than when he’d spoken to you earlier and you wonder what could have happened to create such a drastic change in his behavior. If you took the time to notice you’d see how his eyes glare at the family portrait; the two traitors clear as day as they embraced their children, Childe couldn’t help but see them in a new, more negative and hateful light.

Not after two weeks of research, not when he was now certain they wanted to get in his way.

“No, they said they weren’t coming home until later tonight, but if you want to stay till then I’m sure they'd love to see you again,” you try to reassure him thinking he was perhaps saddened at not being able to see your parents, it’d make sense since, unlike you two, they hadn’t been able to keep in touch since the young man’s career in the Fatui began.

“I… I don’t think I want to meet them, no,” Ajax shakes his head, his hair bouncing as he makes his way to your sofa, his legs tremble slightly – cowards, he thinks, not even able to show their faces, “I actually came here to talk to them but, ha… now that I’m here I’m not too sure.”

“Hmm, how so?” You ask, your heart - which was already quite nervous at his sudden change of mood - sinks further, a sudden uneasiness fills your lungs.

He’d come here in hopes of finding you parents and confronting them with his findings, he would have offered them a chance to redeem themselves and cancel the wedding without you even finding out about the secret dealings they’d been making in your name, but they were not here, you were. Maybe, he could change his battle plan, if he couldn’t talk to your parents… why not simply talk to you? If he’d offered a higher sum and never asked you himself, he’d be no better than that lowlife and your parents, not that you’d reject him - but the thought of steeping as low as they did made him sick.

“What are your thoughts about marriage?” The question is so sudden and unrelated to the previous topic you instinctively frown.

“Marriage,” you sit down opposite of him, it feels like you’re in a job interview as he questions you, “I mean, I’ve thought about it but I’m not sure I want to get married, at least not now, I’m not too sure I’d want to give it all up; I mean, I have a job and friends, there’s so much to do, so much I want to do… and I can’t say I’d be able to do it all if I was married. I’d like to travel and, I… I don’t know, learn more I guess, I feel like if I settle down it'll be once I’m more, you know, confident or mature?”

You trail off awkwardly, it was true - the only times you’d ever seriously thought about marriage often included you being significantly older and, most of the time, with an already retired Ajax — though you wouldn’t admit that to his face unless you were certain he felt the same. You’d rather keep that last part hidden, if not for fear of making him uncomfortable, for the sake of your heart and fear of being brushed aside. Your parents had made it quite clear; you were no marriage-material, you’d be lucky if you even manage to get a partner at this rate, and you doubted a man as accomplished as Tartaglia, Ajax, the 11th Harbinger, would settle for a average, clumsy, pessimistic small town girl such as yourself.

He stays quiet as if a million thoughts were racing around his head; that wasn’t the answer he particularly wanted, he’d rather hear you’d been fantasizing of marrying him, hear you ramble on and on about how you’d been waiting for him and were just about ready to go down the aisle with him and promise yourself to one another but he was glad you weren’t against the idea of marriage, even if he wished you’d been more open about doing it sooner rather than later; but that would change, he was sure of it.

“And, uh, what about you?” You ask, the air felt heavy and you desperately wanted to ease the tension, only one thought was really running through your head that you were too afraid to ask; “What was going on with Ajax?”

“Me?” The question snaps him out of whatever mental trance he’d caught himself in, “Well, I want to get married, the sooner the better, I want to have a family, but it’s gotta be with the person I love the most in this world, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine living without them.”

Neither the words themselves nor the sentiment are crazy, even if you’d only just gotten to know him, it was obvious Ajax wanted a loving family to call his own and it was a pretty common desire for many, it more so was the way his eyes seemed to bore into your own as he spoke, as if he were trying to let you know it was you who he was talking about. You flustered at the thought, it was perhaps selfish to think it was you he was talking about but the thought pleased you nonetheless even if your parents’ words echoed in your mind.

“That’s, ah,” you mumble, breaking eye contact and looking elsewhere, trying to calm your beating heart, you should stop being so silly - he was here to talk with your parents, not you, both of you meeting was mere coincidence, nothing else, “really nice, I hope you find them soon..”

“You do?” He smiles, seemingly pleased with your words, but it’s significantly weaker than usual.

There’s an awkward silence as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d come here to propose. You know it sounds crazy and incredibly sudden but the mention of marriage and wanting to talk to your folk, the fact he’d made the time in his incredibly busy schedule and travels to come over to your house, it made it sound like he had ulterior motives for coming here and just the thought of them had you flustered. You may have just said you wanted to hold off on marriage, that you doubted someone like him would even think of being your partner, but you felt certain that if Ajax asked for your hand you would agree with no hesitation – out of a pitiful mix of love and desperation.

You’re unsure of what to do and are about to speak up, willing to say almost anything to move the conversation forward and away from the topic, but he beats you to it and breaks the silence first.

“Listen, dove… I-I love your parents and I wouldn’t accuse them of something like this if I didn’t have evidence, okay?” He lies through his teeth, after finding out the way they were so willing to get in between you two he could barely stand the thought of them now, but he’s lucky the rest of the words come easy, “I really didn’t want to believe this either, but I have many a reason to suspect they may be trying marrying you off soon to a stranger.”

“W-What?” You breathe out, you struggle to process his words, it’s as if they’d bounced off your brain and floated off elsewhere, “M-marrying me off? What’s - what do you mean?”

No, no, no way.

You feel yourself grow tense and light headed.

What sort of messed up prank was this? There was no way… right?

“It seems they found a member of the Fatui,” he shakes his head, “a guy named Andrei Galkin, and they’re planning to marry you off to him, so I decided to ask around - it seems like it’s been a topic for a while now, money may be involved too, the reason I came here was to… have a talk with your parents, see if I could change their mind.”

“D-do you even have proof?” You ask with a shivering voice, heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to feel hot in embarrassment and anger; your parents were meaning to sell you off to some man? This had to be a joke Childe was playing, you’d known he’d become a bit off after the Abyss incident and you knew his time as a Harbinger probably messed him up, but this wasn’t funny. It was disgusting, the mere prospect has you trembling as you try and grasp what on earth was happening. However, the more you look at him, you wonder if this is a joke at all. You studied him and his expression, desperately trying to see anything on his face that’d indicate this was a sick prank from his part, a cheeky smile or maybe lack of eye contact - anything would do, you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate as you realized how absurd it’d be for him to come all the way to a village hours away from the main city to play such a horrible joke on you, one he must have known would cause you pain and anguish — you doubted he’d want to see you like this, at least you hoped he wouldn’t want to see you like this.

Oh, the realization makes you grow lightheaded, he was probably telling the truth.

“There’s correspondence between them and his family, there’s also a wedding venue booked under their names,” Ajax mumbled, his voice a mere whisper against the sound of your beating heart, he pulls a few files from his coat and hands them to you - your last name is printed on the cover and you quickly open them and browse through the pages, your heart sinks, “I also found money transactions between your family and the Galkin family, about… I’m sorry but I can’t —“

“How much, Ajax?” You feel stiff and your hands start shaking making it hard for you to continue flipping through the countless reports, photographs, records, bank transactions, and letters, your blood feels terribly cold as you try to calm down the whirlwind of feelings that coursed through your body, but you couldn’t bring yourself to calm down, not when your family, your parents of all people, have seemed to been able to calmly put a price on not only your love but your person as well.

“About 900,000 Mora,” he mutters, cold blue eyes avoiding your gaze as he continues, “to Uncle and Auntie from Andrei’s family.”

“900,000 Mora…” You feel your heart shatter as Childe brings a comforting hand towards your shoulders, his calloused fingers massaging your tense muscles, “You’re… you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’d never lie about such a thing,” he approaches you slowly, Ajax continues speaking as he envelops you with a hug soon after removing the papers from your trembling hands,“this pains me as much as it pains you.”

All of this was true, it’d taken him a long time to gather it all, but the reality was simple and cruel;

your parents had begun arranging for your marriage to an older Fatui soldier for after his retirement.

“Why… why would they do this?” You mutter, feeling sorrow slowly fill your lungs up - making it harder to breathe comfortably, “H-how could they? How could they? Why… Ajax, w-why?”

You felt like an idiot, just minutes ago you’d naively thought you may be getting proposed to by your childhood lover, a childish and hopelessly romantic thought, but now you’re sitting in your living room, on the verge of a breakdown as you tried to think of why on earth your parents would be willing to accept such an offer on your behalf, why they’d use you - their daughter - for Mora.

“Shhh, it’s okay, let it out,” he brings your head into his shoulder, caressing your back in a soothing manner, “it must feel horrible, I’m sure.”

And so you sit there, sobbing into your old friend as you try and process the information presented in front of you. It takes you a good couple of minutes to calm down, by then you two have once again sat down on the couch.

“What am I going to do?” You bury your face into your hands, your body shook as you thought about having to confront your parents once they arrived now with the knowledge you had.

It takes Ajax a couple of seconds before he speaks up, he needed to make it seem like he hadn’t been thinking of this from the moment he’d gotten his hands on the evidence himself; “I have an idea but...”

Your head shoots up in record speed, you could practically feel your neck crack from the sudden move but you didn’t care, you were desperate for a solution - no matter how good or bad it may be; “Oh come on, just spit it out, nothing could be worse than this.”

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches; “M-Marry you?”

He nods, sapphire eyes staring you down like a hunter would prey - you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echos, you can see him stifle a laugh, “Because it’s either that or marrying some lowlife named Andrei who paid to wed you.”

You feel your body stiffen at the harsh words, they were true but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear. You avoid looking him in the eyes, your hands anxiously twiddle each other.

“… and what if you’re wrong?”

“What?” He asks as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said.

“What if my parents aren’t marrying me off…”

“Darling,” Ajax laughs but his eyes didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, “are you doubting me? I gave you evidence, it’s right there.”

“Not necessarily,” you look away, you couldn’t help but wonder why you needed to explain yourself, “but, come on, I can’t accept this, it’s too sudden and mom and dad, t-they’d never do this to me, right? I’m their daughter, you know? They love me, they said they did and you don’t do this if you love someone, right?. So… so w-what if you’re wrong?”

“Wrong? There’s no other interpretation that makes sense of what we’ve both seen. Why would I lie to you about this? Come on, love, look at me, do I look like I’m enjoying this?” He questions you, “Look at me, come on, listen to me, if it were up to me,” he grabs your chin when you refuse to meet his gaze, his dark blue eyes stare deeply into your soul; they don’t shine the way the once used to, “I would have asked them for their blessing and proposed to you in the plaza, I would have had a ring ordered from Liyue costume made for you, I’d organize for their to be flowers of every color imaginable, even arrange food and music too, there would be hundreds onlookers who’d die to experience a fraction of the joy we would be feeling, I would have invited my family and yours, I’d have you wearing a custom dress, you’d be the happiest woman in Teyvat if I’d have my way… but look where we are instead, can’t you see? This isn’t what I wanted for us, this isn’t what I wanted for you, but we still have time, we can still fix it. But before that first, you have to believe me and get it through your head; this is who they are, this is what they’ve done, your parents don’t love you any more.”

“…” You can only look at him in shock as you feel tears swell in your eyes because it was not far fetched to say that the last few months your family had been distant, that they’d begun to act strange, and that you’d been short on cash for Tsaritsa knows how long, it hurt because a part of you felt like this was plausible. Because it was true, you were the youngest and that you didn’t exactly pull your weight the same way your siblings did, it was true you’d been more of a casualty in your family’s life but that didn’t mean they’d sell you off. No, they had treated you with love and kindness, they’d been there for every big step in your life, they loved you… right? They’d never do this to you, they would never accept Mora in exchange for your hand in marriage. They would never trade their love for you for some Money… right?

Maybe their love was ensuring you had a better future, one where your lover took care of you even if you didn’t exactly choose them, it was true your love life had been awfully stale, that the only person you’d ever been interested in who had also liked you back was in the army, and that you were never quite able to secure a full time job, it was always part-time and you were always booked the least compared to your coworkers. It was true you didn’t have many friends, most of the people your age had moved away by now, you were the only one of your siblings who wasn’t married or dating someone, out of all of your siblings you were the only one who seemed to remain the same no matter how many years passed. Maybe it was exactly what this was, a misunderstood, misplaced, and ill-fitting way of showing their love; but maybe you hated the thought this was their way of expressing it more than you were moved they’d tried at all.

“Shhh, my love,” you didn’t quite catch when Ajax had started wiping your tears away nor when he had managed to get so close, but at that moment – the moment where your whole life felt so uncertain and shaken – you were willing to ignore it all, “it’s okay, I know what you’re thinking… My offer still stands, you can still marry me.”

“And then what?” You sobbed, holding his gloved hands tightly against your cheek, “What am I going to do after that?”

“You’ll move in with me,” he responds matter of factly yet his tone is still soft, as if he feared speaking too loudly would scare you away, “and we’ll tell them together and you’ll make your bags and we’ll be on our way away from all of this mess. Please listen to me, sweetheart, as of right now, I’m the only choice for you – it won’t be bad at all, it’ll be lovely in fact, don’t you want that?”

“…”

“Please, please trust me, I only want what’s best for you,” he continues, ignoring your silence and instead continuing to caress your skin, “I’ve worked with Andrei, he’s no good, he’s older and cranky, he’s always in a bad mood, he won’t satisfy you, and I don’t want you to be miserable, I mean look at you, is this what you want? Hear me out and put trust in me, you won’t regret it; I’ll get you out of this, I promise.”

“But…”

“I love you and I know you love me,” he whispered, drawing closer to you, his voice low as he slowly leans into your lips, he stops right before they can touch his own, “and I’m sure you’ll grow to love this too.”

There’s a silence as you let your options cross your head, you feel yourself grow overwhelmed, being struck with grief and regret in such strong waves you have no choice but to simply give in to the only secure stone you currently see in the storm that was brewing in your mind.

He loved you, he said so himself, and he’d protect you, he’d promised. You could trust him, you had to trust him; you had no one else.

“I’ll… I’ll marry you.”

“That’s my girl.” He boasts, his face – which is now close enough for you to smell the mint in his breath – breaks into a smile before he’s leaning into your face to kiss you; You reciprocate the action and close your eyes, secretly hoping that today was but a nightmare.

You feel his gloved hands wander around your body, the leather-like material is smooth as his skilled digits play around. There’s barely any time to breathe as he continues kissing you until you grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen entering your lungs.

You had always liked Ajax, always dreamed of marrying him, but as your dreams were coming true you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the circumstances that brought it up.

“Darling,” he moans, as he finally parts himself from your abused lips, “you’re not kissing back, don’t tell me you –“

“Ajax,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper as you desperately try to dive into his eyes, seeking an answer, “why are you doing this?”

The question spoke for itself, no further clarification was needed; why had he come? Why had he revealed your parents’ plans? Was it even as awful as he made it seem? Why did he care? Why now? Did he really want to marry you or did he just feel responsible for you? Why did he bring himself into this mess? Why you, why him, why, why, why, why? Simply; why?

A part of you couldn’t quite believe what you’d heard, you still struggled to grasp the idea that your parents would even think of giving your hand away for Mora, and yet the intensity in his voice, the anger in his tone as he relayed the information he’d gathered could have convinced anyone, you doubted he’d lie about something as severe. If this was the truth, it’d been revealed to you too quickly, you’d been expected to get over it too soon, one moment you find out your parents were getting rid of you and your trust in the most materialistic of ways and the next you’ve been proposed to by a man you hadn’t seen in person for over half a decade. You can’t help but wonder if you said yes because you loved him or because you were desperate, for what - you didn’t know.

“Because I love you,” he speaks, his dull eyes finding yours and you wonder if they’d always lacked light, “I love you… and I’m not letting anyone get in my- our way.”

In his head, this was the only way to have you, this was the only way to love you, he was going to save you.

He doesn’t stop to wait for your response before he’s picked you up with ease, years of training and hard work evident by how nonchalantly he walks around your house and goes up the stairs, ignoring all the other rooms and picking up the pace the closer you got to the destination; you were going to your bedroom, you realize, the one you’d been occupying since you were a child. You never thought your house to be small but the speed in which he was walking made you aware of how short the distance between your bedroom and living room was.

“Ajax, what are you doing?” You whimper, you hold on tightly to the ginger, you’re so close you can smell his cologne, afraid he’d let you do if you let up even for a second.

“I’ll show you,” he continued down the hall, there’s an edge to his voice that gives you a chill, he sounded almost angry but with whom you did not know, “I’ll show you why I’m doing this.”

You two finally make your way to your bedroom where he kicks the door open and plops you, quite unceremoniously, down onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes and wiggles his heavy coat off before climbing the bed with you, he tugs you around until you’re below him.

“You’re doing all of this too fast, calm down,” you argue, pain and sorrow still evident in your voice and it hurts his soul to hear it, “you don’t have to prove me anything, I…”

“Everything I’ve said is true, love,” the red-head insists, “and I’m doing this equally for me as I’m doing it for you.”

You don’t respond, instead you opt to look away; his gaze was becoming too intense and it was making you feel funny in ways you hadn’t felt before.

“Look at me,” his hands find your jaw and he redirects your gaze forcefully, “you’ve already said yes, unless… don’t tell me you,” his eyes darken as they narrowed, an almost animalistic look took over his features, “you lied and you don’t want to marry me.”

“I… I do, I’ve always wanted to, but,” It’s embarrassing to admit but you do so anyway in fear of creating a misunderstanding between the two of you, everything was going so fast you were struggling to keep up, “but… is this really how you want to do it?”

You were certain you could take things slower, maybe wait for your parents to come home and talk to them, you didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, was this healthy? Was this okay?

“Yes,” it seems like he can sense your hesitation so he continues, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His words held so much certainty you almost feel stupid for even questioning him, he drew near your lips once more before engulfing your mouth in a kiss, this time with much more vigor than before.

His teeth nip at your lips, begging for entry and you shyly grant it, slowly parting your mouth open. It’s all so messy as you feel his tongue enter your mouth, the muscle seemingly had a life of its own as it mapped your mouth, teeth clashed against each other as if he were desperate to dominate you.

His hands find your waist and insists on pushing you further into the bed, molding your body into the mattress, as he rubs your sides with slow, sensual movements that light your body ablaze. The contrast between the continuous attacks on your lips and the soft stroking of your body left you dizzy, he handled you as if you were made of porcelain and yet ravaged you like a beast when granted access.

You unknowingly whine as your lips finally part, taking a deep breath of air in the process, a thin strip of saliva connected you both, a lewd indicator of the passion Ajax wished to imprint on you. You’re both panting, clearly riled up from the heated kiss, but the man on top of you insisted on letting his hands work their way through you. Your eyes trail downwards where his gloved digits traced the shape of your body, the way they glide across your curves and dips was hypnotizing, and you miss the way a smirk overtakes his features as he realizes how tightly he’s got you wrapped around those very same fingers.

You feel his breath before you hear his words; “Can I take this off?”

His voice is barely above a whisper yet his question rings around the room like a scream, you feel yourself grow hot under your clothes; the same ones he’d just asked to remove off of you.

You’re too embarrassed to answer him, still slightly hesitant to continue going, you can feel your cheeks heat up into a burning mess and you’re scared that if you speak you’ll make a fool of yourself, so instead you nod slowly, trying to calm your racing mind, moving your eyes elsewhere in hopes you wouldn’t have to see the smug look his face was sure to take.

However, he’s quick to catch your face and redirect your gaze back to himself; “Thank you.”

You let him pick you from the bed to fiddle with the claps on the back of your dress, his fingers are swift in figuring out how to free you from your outer layers, it’s almost amazing how quickly he’s able to take your clothes off until you’re clad in your modest undergarments.

Due to Snezhnaya’s unforgiving winters you often layered multiple articles of clothing and prioritized warmth over aesthetics, the thought your underwear might be underwhelming doesn’t cross your mind until you’re left with your thigh-length woolen socks and plain bra and panties. You wonder if maybe the sight would be disappointing for a man as well traveled as Childe, he’s probably seen much more appealing bodies and clothes during his travels, but that idea goes as quickly as it comes when you finally see his reaction to your partially bare body.

Even though he still wore multiple layers, you could see the way his chest had begun to fall and rise unsteadily, his cheeks have taken a feverish glow, and his breath has become noticeably ragged, the hands that held the clothes he’d recently taken off your body were clearly shaking, his fists tightened their grip on the soft fabrics of your garments until they wrinkled. His eyes never left you, even as they traveled through your body, mapping out every nook and cranny he so desperately wanted to mark and savor, he didn’t dare let his gaze wander as if afraid the minute he did you’d disappear and he’d wake up in his office, cold and alone.

“Hah…” Ajax lets out a soft moan as he takes in the sight in front of him, he feels weak and bothered as he watched your breasts rise and fall as you breathed, he lets his eyes go downwards until he’s face to face with your covered pussy and he feels his underwear slowly moisten as he catches sight of a small wet patch that had formed in your panties.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You mumble into your arms, your body instinctively tries to hide itself but your friend doesn't allow it. The minute he feels your legs try to bundle together he slots himself in between them and throws your clothes away so he can fully grasp and force them apart.

There’s silence as you both stare at each other, waiting for one of you to make the first move and fully pass the point of no return.

Surprisingly, this time it’s you who grows impatient and drags the ginger down to meet your hungry lips.

Maybe it’s because right now, Ajax felt like the only person who cared about you and you felt desperate to feel comforted, you felt betrayed and hurt and you craved to be reminded you were loved. It wasn’t healthy and a part of you felt guilty, like you were using him for momentary comfort, as if you’d forced him to come and offer his hand in marriage, if you were smarter and stronger maybe you would’ve realized what was going on and could have stopped it. But he’d said he loved you, right? You loved him, you knew you did and he’d gone and declared his love for you first, even when you were kids he was always dedicated to reminding you of his adoration, but your parents said that too and where did that lead to? He wasn’t doing this out of feeling obligated to care for you, was he?

Maybe this was a mistake, you probably should not be initiating sex with a man you haven’t seen in person in years after he came to tell you your parent had sold you off to marry some rich old, gross soldier, you instead should have sat down and talked for longer, tried figuring out what was going on and perhaps find a solution that didn’t include you marrying your childhood sweetheart, not out of love but out of fear of being forced into an arranged marriage with a stranger. But the fact of the matter is that you didn’t do that, you let yourself be dragged along by his passion and desperation, you now laid in bed making out with Ajax as you desperately tried to push the thoughts of self-doubt and disgust away.

You try to focus on the present without thinking of the past nor the future; The almost one million Mora your parents had pocketed didn’t mean anything, there was no Andrei Galkin, Ajax had never left you, the Fatui didn’t exist, there hadn’t been any betrayal or hurt feelings, you were safe and you were free, there was nothing. In this room, at least for this moment, all that existed was you and Tartaglia.

His shirt is a barrier between your greedy hands and his naked body that’s becoming increasingly annoying as you parted your lips to grant him access to your all of mouth, which he gladly accepts as your tongues caress each other in a sloppy manner, you feel your teeth sometimes clash with his own but you’re too focused on tugging at his clothes, trying to get them off with the least amount of space between you both to care. They could rip, you didn’t care, you wanted to feel his body and warmth, you needed to feel alive.

Your body is starting to feel tingly, your nipples feel hard against your bra and your lower region becomes needy. You want him to touch you more but his hands are busy fiddling with your hips and waist, alternating between the two spots as he caresses and pinches your skin.

You both seem hesitant to let each other go even if it’s for something as necessary as catching your breaths, but even if things seemed to have slowed down it didn’t mean something isn't happening.

“Ajax,” your voice is soft and breathless, you feel your lungs beg you to not speak, “take ‘em off, wanna touch you…”

You gesture at his clothes, slowly running a finger around his chest and stopping at - where you guessed - his nipple was and pressing down hard.

A deep grunt of approval escaped the man’s lips at the feeling and it took him a second to nod, busy trying not to focus too much on the way he felt his cock throbbing, and back off to make way for him to take his clothes off. Childe refuses to completely climb off you, instead leaning backwards to unbutton his shirt and click off the harness he wore, his coat falling behind is his figure, and his shoes long since thrown elsewhere, his pink nipples are clearly sensitive as his eyes shut off tightly as his clothes graze them, his whole body felt on fire - as if your mere presence were an aphrodisiac to the man. Next is his pants and socks and he does his very best to be as quick as humanly possible, they’re all off in record speed and he’s soon only wearing his underwear.

The minute he’s done, he’s thrown himself back onto you as if trying to make up for the few seconds he’d parted from you.

You’re flustered as you finally feel his skin freely come in contact with yours, as if the situation slowly began sinking in just then. Not to mention, you’d caught sight of his raging boner through the thin layer of fabric that constituted his undergarments. It looked big and thick and you wondered, if you even reached that point, if it was even possible to feel good from such a thing pounding on your hole, it looked like it’d hurt more than anything. But a greedy part of you was desperate to find out how it’d feel to have all of him inside of you, to have his fat tip caressing the deepest corners of your body, painting your gummy insides white.

This time, you both skip the kissing and go straight to touching each other, this time more shamelessly and with less hesitance. Your hands find his neck and you pull his head into the crook of your neck where he dedicates his time to litter kisses across the area, you let your hands wander across his shoulders and neck, softly scratching the skin under your nails whenever he kisses a particularly sensitive spot. On the other hand, Ajax let his hands travel across your chest and cup your breasts, he molds the flesh like a stress ball, tightening his grip and pulling at them like they were toys. The feeling of your bra coming into contact with your hardening nipples makes you whimper and moan while your body contorts in an attempt to meld deeper with the man on top of you.

Your movements are restricted and awkward as you were currently caged between the bed and him, but you do your best to communicate your growing neediness.

“A-Ajax, mhmm~!” You gasp, his teeth gnaw at a spot in your neck that has a shot of neediness reaching your privates in electrifying waves, “… more, I wan’ more…”

You can feel his lips curve into a smirk as he hears the desperation in your voice but he’s not better at concealing the very obvious way your words affected him; “My dove wants more? Hah—haha, a-aren’t you such a cute ‘nd needy little thing.”

You huff slightly at his teasing words but you can’t deny that the way he addressed you as “his” made you grow increasingly horny. He seems to hear your soft complaint and finally parts with your neck, which was now littered with hickies and love bites, to allow himself to gaze deeply into your eyes.

You could never deny that Ajax’s eyes were the prettiest shade of blue you’d ever seen, they resemble sapphires and noctilucous jade but with less shine. When you both were younger you’d spend hours gazing upon them, admiring the intensity they held. Now, however, you can’t say you aren’t slightly intimidated as he gazes at you like a predator. His hands leave your body and you’re immediately missing the warmth they provided you, in fact, you’re about to complain and ask him to touch you again when he suddenly cups your clothed pussy with his hand.

His hand is large, his fingers are long and the palm is in no way small, which meant most - if not all - of your cunt was now being held in one of his hands. His thumb is hovering over your clit and you gasp as you feel him tighten his hold and trace his fingers across your slit and up to your sensitive nub.

You squirm, letting your bottom grind against his hands, slowly building up your pleasure until you’re letting out soft moans and whines. Tartaglia decides to aid you as he himself works towards getting his member hard and oozing with release by moving his hand across your pussy and grinding on your thighs simultaneously. Your mind grows hot and dazed as you sense your pussy begin to drool, you could feel the way your juices leaked, the wet trail they’d leave and traveled across your your entrance, down your slit and across your thighs, soaking your underwear with release; you wondered if Ajax could feel your excitement too.

You could certainly feel him. His cock had long since been hard and leaking precum, you could make out through hazy eyes and desperate movements a wet patch on his boxers. It looked so big constrained against the fabric, you wanted to free his cock and feel it inside your hole, any of them, his balls seemed to hold unceremonious amounts of cum as the wetness kept growing more and more visible to you, you wondered if he’d be willing to come inside of you if you asked.

You both work together, trying to make the other as aroused as possible until someone snapped and began demanding the intercourse you both clearly wanted.

You don’t want to give in, not yet, but he’s begun to tease your slit with his fingertips and you’re growing aggravated from the empty feeling in your cunt. You feel yourself clenching onto nothing, your walls closing desperately trying to find anything to grip onto, you are growing desperate to feel something inside, be it his fingers, his tongue or his cock — you wanted him inside of you, now.

“Ha… hah~” You can feel his tongue hanging from his open mouth, drool escapes his parted lips and coats your breasts, you’re surprised he’s managed to keep himself up for so long, all the training he’d endured paying off and allowing him to mount your thighs and grind his length against your skin, his expression is one of extreme arousal that makes you tense and grow lust-drunk, “T-Tell me… d’ya wanna feel my cock in your pussy yet, darling?”

“…! M—mhk?!” You let out a high pitched whine as a particular stroke of his hands delves momentarily into your clothed hole, you can feel your cum slowly dirty your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, his movements growing erratic, his ginger hair seems darker and less vibrant against his reddened face, “your… your pussy is beggin’ for me!”

“Please…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your body still rocks alongside his own as he uses your body to get off and bring you close to a mind-numbing release, your voice wavers as your whole being is shocked from the pleasure Ajax’s hand toying with your clothed cunt brings, your legs twitch and your body keeps contorting and folding.

“Hmm, please what? I need you to tell me,” he mumbles, his voice takes a deep, desperate and animalistic tone as he continues, he takes his fingers and starts to circle your clit with an unimaginable force, “What do you want, huh? If you want me to fuck y-you, you’ll need to use your big girl words. Say; “I want my husband’s cock inside of me”, come on, ask for y-your husband’s cock…!”

“A~Ajax…! Please-uh…” Your body begins to hurt, your very own genitals seem to be burning in fire as you desperately try to soothe the ache in your womb and clit. You begin to rut against his hands at an embarrassing, almost objectifying, pace, absolutely desperate to cum and lift the cloud of lust that seemed to haunt you from the moment Ajax laid your body on your mattress.

“That’s not who I am,” he mumbles into your skin, his teeth beginning to bite and mark the flesh of your breast, “I’m y-your husband now, right? So, ask for it properly… hah~ won’t you?”

“… want my h-husband’s cock, I… inside of me, please,” you whine between heavy breaths, “I… want to fuck my—hah… h-husband…”

The moan that leaves his lips is loud and primal, his whole body shudders as he hears your plea. He didn’t think he could get any harder and yet hearing your shaky voice ask for him sends a rush of blood through his body and straight to his dick.

“Ahaha… that’s right, isn’t it? I-I’m your husband now,” an unsettling grin starts to form on his face, one that, if you weren’t so desperate and vulnerable, would probably have sent a shiver down your spine; it was an expression that resembled his face after ending a powerful opponent, one that meant victory was his, that he’d won, it was the face many people would see before departing the realm of the living, one of pure, unhinged bliss that could only be understood by a man such as himself, “I’m your husband, your husband… a-ah! Ha-ah, that means… hah, that means it’s my duty to fuck you, to make you feel good, a good husband makes love to his spouse, right? S-so as your husband, I get to be inside of you… a-and make you cum lots. Yeah, I… I’m going to be the best husband, you’ll feel good too… So be a good wife and take all of my love, ‘kay?”

During his incoherent rambling, which you barely could understand, he works to rid you of your underwear with desperate movements. His hands pull at the fabric with enough force that they tear, allowing him to rip the fabric off your hips and discard it on the floor. The cool air in your room hits your lower end and makes you shiver, your body had been previously engulfed by Childe’s warmth, the feeling of his own heating body and rapid blood circulation had sheltered you from the freezing temperature outside of the sinful haven between your bodies. The difference in temperature and its effect on you seems to have been noticed by your partner, who looks around the room trying to find a solution.

You want to hurry him up, tell him you didn’t mind the cold, that you just wanted to feel him inside you for the first time, but before you know it he’s pulling something from behind; his white coat soon is back on his shoulders, lazily throw on, barely holding up as he quickly pulls his underwear off. He’s quick and precise, never wasting a moment as he adjusts himself on top of you once more, this time with his bare cock leaking on your stomach.

“I’ll heat you up… inside and out, hah…” He mumbles, adjusting the coat so it covers both of you, the long, heavy material immediately worked wonders as your body regained its warmth.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, you’re both trembling as he slowly lowers his pelvis to meet your own. You were right, he was big and he was long and thick, but he made sure to go slowly as he inserted two fingers to stretch you out in preparation.

Your slick facilitates the intrusion, there’s not much pain as he opens and closes his fingers, curling and extending them, as if trying to gauge how far you could stretch. His cheeks are a bright red, sweat runs through his forehead as he feels your body accommodate the feeling of his fingers. Ajax was big, always taller than most in your village, and his time in the Fatui had definitely contributed to his size – his shoulders were broad, his chest chiseled, and his fingers, the ones that slowly danced inside your pussy, were long and calloused. This was your first time feeling something other than your own hands and Ajax was making sure to show you all the places you could have never reached on your own.

You don’t even realize you’d begun panting, soft whines and moans had been leaving your lips forma while now, noises that only served to encourage Ajax further. But he had to stop, he needed you both to cum together as one. Your first time together had to be romantic like that, both of you climaxing together and coming undone at the same time.

There’s a feeling of emptiness and disappointment that follows the feeling of his fingers leaving your body, you’re about to complain when you see him bring his fingers to his lips to lap at the slick that had stuck to them. You’re mesmerized at the lewd image, gazing hopelessly at the way his face melted into one of pure pleasure as he tasted you. He makes sure to lick his fingers clean, his tongue lapping at the cum.

You catch his eyes and they soften, a lovestruck look taking over his features, you nod and open your legs wider than before; encouraging him to finally fuck you. He positions himself outside of your opening, making sure you grasp your legs and pull them as wide apart as he physically could without hurting you.

Even with the previous preparation, your breath is knocked out of your lungs as his tip slowly makes its way through your slit, past the muscles and finally inside your gummy walls.

He uses his arms to adjust his body, making sure to be as careful as possible as to not hurt you. This was your first time making love to each other, and he’d be damned if he were the one to cause you pain.

He gives you a second before pushing the rest in, he’s still slow, attempting to coax your body into adjusting to the feeling of being so full. His blue eyes are closed, his breath is heavy and you can feel the bed shake as he tries to control himself, you’re not faring much better, your head felt light as all your body could seemingly concentrate on was the feeling between your legs, your body was heating up and you could feel the warmth radiate off your skin.

You know he’s fully sheathed himself when you feel the soft “thud” of his balls hitting your ass, you’ve become hyper aware of the proximity and situation you’re in as his cock begins to throb inside of your pussy, his head comes to rest on the crook of your neck as you both adjust to the feeling of each other's body.

A moment passes, your walls that had previously been gripping Ajax like a lifeline slowly weaken, finally allowing both of you to relax and begin to experiment.

“I-I’ll start…” He mumbles, avoiding your gaze as if feeling shy, he begins to move around as if to grip the bed’s headboard, all while still inside you, his arms allowing him to cover your body from the world.

As you look up, you realize how he’s become all you see, his imposing frame and coat acting as a curtain blocking the outside from entering your view. Your heart feels heavy but you try and pay it no mind.

The movements are slow and clumsy at first, his cock never truly leaves your warmth fully, his tip always kept inside of your cunt - one way or another. The feeling is strange, you’re not used to the way his length would gaze at your walls or the feeling of the veins on his dick caressing spots inside of you that made you gasp and curl your toes. It’s new and it takes some adjusting before you begin to rock your own hips to meet his, suddenly it begins to feel good, really good in fact. There was something about the stretch, maybe it was the feeling of being so full, the way his cock curved and hit spongy spots in your pussy becomes addicting, or maybe it was the fat vein that decorated the underside of his cock, but it wasn’t long until you’re trying to entice a faster, tougher pace.

He takes his time teasing and easing you into the rhythm of sex, he wouldn’t tell you, but a part of him was scared that if he picked up his pace he wouldn’t be able to stop until you were leaking his cum - not to mention, he wasn’t sure he’d last long if he started to fuck you even faster. The feeling of your walls gripping him was divine, there are moments his thrusts grow unsteady and out of sync, as if his body was trying to take control and allow itself to set the animalistic pace he so desperately wanted, it’s these exact moments where his patience is tested, where he wants nothing more than to pick up your body and use it as a toy to fill with his semen.

“I wan’ more,'' you moan and he freezes as he feels your hips pathetically lift up to meet his heated thrust, your lower region coming up and rolling, rocking, and sloppily caressing his own pelvis in an attempt to suck him deeper into your sex, this was the first time you’d ever experienced such fullness and pleasure, your mind was numb and you’d forgotten all about previous sorrows, you truly wanted to feel more and more until all you could think of was Ajax’s cock and feeling good, “… wan’na feel my… my husband’s c-cock…?!”

At the title, the ginger truly can’t help the way his hips basically crash into yours, it was purely instinctual – just the sound of your calling him yours and acknowledging him as your husband, even if you’d only gotten engaged less than an hour ago, was enough to drive him mad with lust. He feels his head grow dizzy as thoughts of breeding you and claiming you as his take over. It’s as if a switch is turned on because from that moment onwards the atmosphere changed completely.

His previously considerate and soft strokes become harsh and rapid, you can feel your bed move rhythmically with his thrusts, your whole body jolts as he begins to fuck you with the sole goal of filling you so deeply your body was to be conditioned to respond lewdly to his mere presence. They’re deeper too as he now focused on feeling and claiming as much of your hole as possible, it’s impossible not to feel the way his cock imprinted itself deeply inside your body.

Your hands are desperate to grasp onto something, so you clutch at the sheets under you as tightly as possible, your body feels hot and heavy; your legs twitch and you're left gasping as Childe grabs your hips to adjust your position. You’re still lying down but your back arches itself to allow him easy access to your bottom, it’s surprising how easily he’s able to manhandle your body while never quite pulling out, always making sure to insert himself as quickly as he exited, never truly pulling out all of his dick.

The new position allows for him to hurry his pace, you’re soon moving like a rag doll with no control over your limbs. You’re left a moaning, whining mess as your brain struggles to process the waves of pleasure that bloomed from deep inside your pussy.

You feel your heart beating and you can almost hear the sound of your slick pouring out and lubricating your walls, making it increasingly easy to continue the Fatui’s pounding of your cunt. You’re not too sure if you’re even able to talk, the thought of forming a coherent sentence felt farfetched, all that leaves your lips are whines, sounds of pure pleasure and bliss that sound like an orchestra to Ajax.

He’s not doing much better, his vocabulary seems to have been reduced to declarations of ownership over you, boundless love, and immense pleasure. Your name soon becomes the only coherent sound leaving his lips as he lets his head fall back, his body almost working on autopilot as he allows his hips to ram inside you while his hands focus on teasing your nipples and forcing you to face his reddening face. His chest shines with sweat as he makes sure to fill the room with the sound of your skin meeting him and the growing wet mess between your merging bodies.

You’re both soon leaking arousal, Ajax’s cock starts to slowly redden and grow inside of you as he approaches orgasm, drops of precum start to form on the tip, and your torso starts to heat up as it feels heavier the better you feel; your cum is soon coating his dick white, a clear indicator he’d been inside your drooling cunt. You let go of the sheets and bring a hand to your clit, desperate to bring yourself closer to release.

“Ah-! Just like that,” Ajax exclaims, lurching forward as he feels your walls tighten around his cock, “tighten around me like that, fu–uck! I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in your pussy, gonna shoot my cum inside you… Haha–hah! You’re… you’re gonna be full with my cum, are you ready?”

You nod mindlessly, too busy playing with your clit and pressing kisses into Ajax’s skin. The feeling of being filled by your childhood sweetheart was intoxicating, it left you an overstimulated mess, moaning and whining as you gripped the man’s shoulders to bring him closer to you.

You couldn’t tell who came first, only that your final push was the feeling of Childe’s lips on yours. Maybe it’s the desperation you felt radiating off him as his tongue caressed your own, the way his hands tighten around your body as he begins unloading his cum begins seeping into your pussy and deep inside your body. You’re a shaking mess as you continue riding your orgasm on his dick, prolonging the pleasurable feeling by rocking your hips into his in an almost shy manner, it’s addicting and you’re left gasping and moaning for more. On the other hand, Ajax was trembling on top of you, his arms seemingly giving out as he collapsed into your body, allowing his head to rest beside your own on your pillows while his cock throbbed and painted your insides with his cum. He gives a few weak thrusts, as if making sure that his balls have been thoroughly emptied, before he looks over at your panting face.

You’re trying to catch your breath, desperately trying to calm your heart down into a stable rhythm, while your body twitches in a post-orgasm afterglow. You’re sweating, your eyes shut tight as you feel your pussy swell around Ajax’s dick, which was very much still inside you, and grow sensitive. Even in this state, where you’re too shaken to do anything other than breathe and try to relax your body, he thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

His hand, which trembled ever so slightly, travels to find yours and intertwine your fingers together. He subconsciously traces your ring-finger, trying to estimate your size, you’d accepted his proposal, going as far as acknowledging him as your husband, it was now his responsibility to find a suitable ring for you, one worthy of resting on your fingers.

He smiles, cuddling deep into your bare skin, pressing his softening cock deeper into you, which earns him a soft whine from you, essentially plugging his semen inside your pussy.

“… I love you, Ajax.” You mumble, eyes still closed shut, your voice drowsy and far away as exhaustion slowly catches up to you. Today had been hard on you, physically and mentally, you’d learnt more than you’d wished to have known, your relationship with those around you now forever changed; you’d agreed to marry your childhood friend in response to your parents’ betrayal, you’d given up your virginity to him and now laid in bed, struggling to know if you’d made the right decisions. An inner turmoil was growing inside you, a storm of emotions you were not ready to deal with, but right now, as you lay beneath the man who’d promised to save you, you decide to rest and let him take care of it, for now. Your breathing slows down, your body finally succumbing to sleep.

You’re too tired to hear the sound of the front door unlocking, your mother’s voice booming across the house as she calls out for you as she ushers your father and guests inside your family house. Ajax makes no move to leave your bed or even remove himself from inside of you, not even as he recognizes the distinct sound of footsteps that belonged to your parents moving around downstairs, grinnin softly as he hears your mother call out for you again, while your father talked to someone and merrily laughed, joking around, easing the tension of the first meeting between two people set up in an arranged marriage – where only one of them knew.

He can hear your parents talking, making an excuse at where you were, he can hear your mother climb up the stairs, he can hear her getting closer to your room.

What a lousy move, he thought to himself, to ambush you one day and try to dump the news on top of you like this, you didn’t even seem aware of guests coming over to your home at all, he frowned; he had expected more of uncle and auntie. Alas, he’d long since given up on them, he just hopes your mother doesn’t scream too loudly when she sees you two in bed together.

He’d hate for you to wake up to such an awful shriek.

There’s a knock on your door, Ajax smiles but makes no move to answer, and then another as your mother calls out your name. She sighs before threatening to open the door, Ajax has to stifle a giggle, pressing his lips into your shoulder to not let out any noise, too afraid to ruin the surprise for his soon to be mother-in-law, she hears no response, she clearly feels agitated and annoyed, he can hear it the way she knocks once more with a stern calling of your name.

There’s a second of silence before the door is swung open.

Ajax looks over to your mother, his coat covering both your naked forms enough that a semblance of modesty is kept but not enough that what happened between the two of you was misunderstood, it would be clear to anyone who could walk in, and he smiles, leaning his body into your own, further embracing you and pushing your sleeping face into his chest, he rolls over as a playful wave is sent her way, she stands frozen in place. Your bottom halves are still covered by the oversized coat, but the bruises and bites that litter your bodies are enough to paint a picture, his hand moves to caress your body, a smug smile takes over his features as he watches your mother try to come up with the right words to say.

“Hello, ma’am,” his tone is playful but the look on his face is one of pure venom, she looks beyond flustered but isn’t able to say a word; too shaken by the sight, the combination of her daughter and a man in bed together and the Harbinger’s insignia that seemed to shine with even the smallest movements from the ginger was enough to send her stumbling back, “it’s been a while, we have a lot to catch up on, huh?”

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cntloup · 5 months

Text

Mafia!Simon x Bartender!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You've been working here for ages, in this once rusty old bar which is now adorned by lively colors and music, turned into the best nightclub in the city, serving the best drinks and entertainments with the most beautiful dancers.

All in all, you have witnessed the worst and the best of this place.

And you have come to know the people who own the place.

In fact, you know them like the back of your hand, even better than themselves one might say.

You're bright and perceptive, and working as a bartender in a place like this where it is jam-packed with important people all the time has its own perks.

With a little bit of booze and honeyed words you bring out everyone’s hidden side and in no time, they’re spilling their deepest darkest secrets to who seems like just a sweet, harmless bartender.

“Here you go.” you say to Simon, placing his usual Kentucky Bourbon on the counter, “Thanks, dove.” he says and brings the glass to his lips.

“You know... I say don’t fuck around with the Russians!” you remark while drying the cups and placing them on the shelves.

They asked your opinion on the matter since you’re their most trusted ally outside the group. As a matter of fact, they consider you part of the group by now.

He chuckles before saying “That’s what I told Price.”

“So why is he doing this?” you ask regarding cutting a deal with the Russians and Simon shrugs.

You’ve had a weird feeling about it since they mentioned it to you.

“Well, if any of you care about my opinion, don’t do it. It just doesn’t feel right to me.” you say with a shrug and look over to find him deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed and gorgeous brown eyes focused on somewhere far away.

Gods, he’s so handsome! You've been fond of him for some time now, and by the looks and little touches he gives you, you’d say the feeling is somewhat mutual.

Out of all of them, he’s always been the closest to you.

And he’s been your biggest protector all throughout this wild ride you’ve been on together.

He always keeps an eye on you in case any of the customers gets too close and makes you uncomfortable; God forbid if any of them gets touchy, they’d be digging their own grave by doing that.

You come back from your daydreams after hearing him clear his throat.

You notice you’ve been staring far too long, choosing to ignore the faint smirk on his lips.

“Sorry... just thinking about the deal.” you lie and dip your head, busying yourself with cleaning the cups and hoping he won’t notice your burning cheeks.

“Well, I'm off to meet John now. I'll make sure to give him your opinion too.” he says while standing from his chair, “Thanks for the drink.” he offers a small smile with a nod.

“You’re welcome, Si... and I'm sure he won’t listen to me. His mind is set on the idea and that’s that. Not that I would ever question his decisions. I have too much respect for the man to do that. He must know something that we don’t.” you mention while grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink.

“I can assure you that he values your opinion just as much as you do his. He'll think about it. Don't worry.” he says while gathering his stuff and placing your tip on the counter, a hefty envelope, so generous as always.

“Simon! I can’t accept this! This is... too much! You do this every time!” you exclaim with a frown, nudging the envelope in his direction.

“Take it. I insist. You can renovate your apartment. Last time I was there, it was a bloody mess!” he teases with a playful smirk.

“HEY!” you say in mock annoyance while throwing the rag in your hand at him.

“My apartment is fine as it is, thank you very much!” you retort, failing to hide the smile forming on your lips.

You take the envelope hesitantly after so much persuasion on his part and wave him goodbye, feeling butterflies dance in your belly as thoughts of him linger in your mind.

You dip your head and go on with what you were doing, lost in your own world and not noticing the dark shadow lurking in the distance and standing in a corner, carefully observing the place, and most importantly... you.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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ozzgin · 9 months

Note

Sorry to bother you, but the bodyguard post you did was just 🤤🥰😍 and I can't stop thinking about it day later

Have you ever seen Oshi no Ko? I'd love to see Bodyguard react to someone trying to do something similar as what happened to Ai.

Fans get wind their beloved idol might have feeling for her staff, so a crazed fan tracks down her private address. He plans to get revenge for "His idol cheating on him" but doesn't know there is a guard dog inside ready to bite any threat to his precious charge.

Sorry to keep ragging on about the topic, I just adore you work enough that it lives in my head rent free.

Happy holidays

-🌟

I sadly haven't seen Oshi no Ko, but your description sounds very interesting. Thank you for the idea! I've combined it with your previous suggestion, I think they work together really well. Happy Holidays to you, too! :)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (II)

Your new manager has sent you home for the holidays after persistent rumors surrounding you and your bodyguard. And, as luck would have it, the fan responsible for the accusations successfully sneaks his way in. Sadly for him, you’ve never left the watchful gaze of your loyal, mean dog.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

TW: violence, threats, mentions of stalking

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Enjoy your holidays!"

The driver cheerfully bids you goodbye and speeds away, leaving you behind the imposing gate. You drag your luggage inside and nonchalantly toss it with an annoyed huff.

What now? You're all alone in a hollow mansion.

Early December you begun receiving worrying letters from a fan, making wild claims about you and your bodyguard. Naturally, you laughed it off. Your bodyguard found them equally amusing. So much, that he'd ask you to read them out loud as you rode him. "I w-won't stand for it. You know we ha-ave something special going on, (Y/N)-chan." You barely managed to form coherent sentences, feverishly clinging to the large man underneath you. "You heard the guy. Better be on your best behavior", he'd add with a chuckle, wiping the drool from your mouth.

The new manager, however, wasn't as relaxed about it. He couldn't risk tarnishing the reputation of his beloved cash cow, so he suggested you take a break from personal assistants until the rumors tone down. If you remained within your expensively secured house, you wouldn't need any guarding. So, he caringly prescribed a dose of homely isolation for the upcoming holidays.

"Don't be so dramatic", he said, "Jesus spent 40 days in the desert by himself. And he didn't have your indoor cinema or jacuzzi bathtub."

"Yeah, but he had the Devil to tempt him. Where's my bad guy?" You whined as a retort.

You let out another groan and throw yourself on the couch, fiddling with the remote. Kind of them to decorate everything for Christmas, you think as you eye the gigantic kitsch of a tree slapped in the middle of the living room.

Fuck. What an absolute waste of time. All because of one crazy fan. You almost wish he'd show his stupid face so your bodyguard could pummel it to bits and crumbles. You wonder what he's doing by himself. Is he going to be assigned to another idol? Probably not, two weeks is too short of a time for anything. You check your phone.

Suddenly, the screen lights up. A text notification.

"Bored?"

Heh. It's almost as if he can read your mind. You smile to yourself and type your response, stretching onto the sofa. Your little back and forth messaging goes on until you look up and notice the room has gotten darker. Already evening. You can hear your stomach growl, so you get up and drag your feet towards the kitchen, searching for takeaway fliers. If you're going to be under house arrest, the least you can afford is junk food.

Once you place your decadent order, you hop onto the counter and idly dangle your legs in anticipation. Your favorite off-duty guard dog has abruptly told you he needs to go and is now offline. "Something came up". What could possibly require his immediate attention? A mistress? You giggle at the idea. In all your time spent together, you haven't seen him glance at a single woman. If he must, he will engage with other people using one-word replies, visibly uninterested. You never considered him much of a talker, but his behavior with anyone else, in comparison, is downright hostile.

There's a rustling sound and you jolt. Was the food delivered already? It hasn't been that long. You jump off the marble countertop and freeze in place once you see the man standing in the doorway. His face is concealed with a medical mask and he's audibly panting, the hot air fogging up his glasses. You notice the knife in his hand.

"How rude of you to cheat on me so shamelessly, (Y/N) dear."

Huh? Your eyes widen in realization. Was this the crazed fan bombarding you with threatening letters? Your features twist in utter disgust, still transfixed on the weapon within his grip.

This little shit. Not only does he break into your home, but he decides to intimidate you with a department store kitchen utensil. Is that all you're worth? Is that any way to greet one of the top idols in this country?

You angrily pull the nearby drawer open and grab a long, sharp blade. The man tenses up and steps forward, but you stop him in his tracks, throwing the item at his feet. He stares at you, bewildered.

"It's a Yoshihiro Sashimi knife. More than your monthly income, most likely." You state as you leer down at him, grimace plastered on your face. "Pick it up like the animal you are."

He cannot move. Is this his beloved (Y/N)? Her pretty, innocent smile and sparkling eyes have been replaced by this hateful scowl. He feels like a cockroach about to be stepped on, a mere vermin invading her personal space. This can't be right. It's him that should be upset, he's the betrayed party. When has she gotten so...Ah. This must be the work of that bodyguard. He's always known. The way he looks at her, with a predatory glint as if marking his territory. He should've noticed earlier. Poor, sweet (Y/N), at the hands of a brute. Tears form in his eyes and he opens his mouth to speak up, but a burning blow assaults his back and everything goes black.

Your bodyguard casually walks in and lifts the intruder up by the nape of his neck.

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

You blush and wipe your eyelashes dramatically, releasing a gentle sob from your puckered lips.

"Touch? He almost killed me! I was so scared...I thought I was done for."

He frowns at your words.

"I'll take care of it."

You can feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach. As he drags the body out of the kitchen, you follow behind enthusiastically.

"Do it in the living room!" You almost squeal.

"Are you sure? It will get messy. I'm not letting this one walk out." He warns you with a worried expression.

"Yes, yes!" you nod, all bubbly. "Right here, next to the Christmas tree."

Once the gory spectacle is over, the bodyguard sprawls onto the sofa, exhausted. He exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. You are about to join him, when a thought crosses your mind.

"Now that I think about it, how did you know I was about to be attacked? That was some really extraordinary timing."

Out of reflex, he palms his pocket to check if his phone is still within his possession. Thankfully he hasn't left it in plain sight. You squint suspiciously.

"Are you spying on me or something?"

He remains quiet for a few moments and eventually lowers his head apologetically, avoiding eye contact.

"Forgive me, Miss."

When he glances up again, your small figure is looming over him.

"Wow, what a pervert you are." You push his chin up with your dainty fingers. "How will you make it up to me for such nasty habit~?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Good boy."

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere bodyguard #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #yandere original character #yandere oc

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keravnous · 2 years

Text

bathroom b!tch; tangerine/fem!reader (smut; 18+)

part two | part three | part four

playlist: train quickie with tangerine

Tangerine meets you in one of the bathrooms on the bullet train. He just wants to clean up after his tussle with Ladybug and get rid of the blood, but he could use you to blow off some steam as well. You know: he has to take it if he sees it.

word count: 5,9k

warnings: mirror sex, bathroom sex, semi public, fingering, oral (female receiving), blood (it's tangerine's), squirting, dry humping, rather rough sex, unprotected sex, light choking, confined spaces, dirty talk, name calling, kinda a quickie?, tangerine's a little rude but surprisingly gentle too idk he's just like that, he just needs to fuck the adrenaline outta himself, i have very strong feelings about this angry man

title is from the song of the same name, bathroom bitch by holychild

also thank you v for a) helping me out with Japanese and b) by telling me what being a passenger on a bullet train feels like

You knew it was a bad idea.

Starring at yourself in the impressively clean mirror of the small bathroom, you try your best to hold back any fresh tears.

You knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work. You fucking knew it and yet you accepted your fiancés pleas to Just try it. Maybe, it indeed would've worked out if he wasn't fucking his bloody secretary.

You regret leaving London. You miss your home.

You're not even that heartbroken, you just feel exhausted, like you wasted an awful lot of time.

You take a long, good look at yourself. Bloodshot eyes and a sad hue resting over your pupils, turning the colour dark and deep. The dress, that you bought for your anniversary brunch – a surprise, quite as much as the one he gave you, when you walked in on him, balls deep in his secretary – now looks oddly strange, out of place on you. You feel overdressed and ashamed, foolish.

But there’s something else, too: the loneliness that followed suite after your screaming, after fighting with him - after breaking up with him. It's been there since you boarded the train to Nagoya but now it rolls over you like a wave of-

Thump, thump.

"What the fuck", you mutter, taking a ragged breath, before yelling out, "Occupied!"

You just want to be left at fucking peace, not being watched by other passengers as you're bawling your eyes out. All you want is to get off that train and burn some of that fucker’s money on a spontaneous vacation. All you want is for the remaining days in Japan to be good ones.

Another sharp knock follows. This one rattles the door.

It takes a moment for you to scramble for the right words, the ones you have picked up when visiting your fiancé before. "Shiyouchu!"

Another knock. And another.

Motherfucker.

You clench your teeth - saying goodbye to the precious moments of crying in silence for the year you've lost to the most useless relationship of all fucking mankind - and wipe away the wetness below your eyes to open the door. "I said-"

Oh.

Oh shit.

There's a very handsome man waiting outside the door. He is towering over you, impatience plastered on his face and seeping through his every movement, with the way he's leaning against the door frame.

He's hot.

Also, he's dripping in blood.

His light blue shirt, once crisp and clean, is now disshelved and just as stained as his expensive looking dark-blue vest.

"Jesus, fuck, are you alright?", you blurt out.

The man's raising an eyebrow. "Could be asking you the same, love. Now, would you please get the fuck outta there."

He's moving towards you, closing in the last few inches separating the two of you. Your gaze is focused on the nasty cut on his arm.

"You're bleeding", you say dumbly.

His eyes shoot up at you and for a split-second you feel like you are face to face with a predator. The anxiety, that the blood and his rude behaviour sparked in your chest, sends adrenaline pumping through your veins and has the muscles your legs preparing for fight or flight. He blinks.

"I know", he says and his lips curl up to something, that you're convinced is supposed to be a smile, "Now, if ya'd be so kind?"

He gestures behind you, towards the empty bathroom.

"No?", you say, voice shooting up a little, which immediately has him cautiously throwing a glance down the hall to his right, "No, I won't! You need help, how the fuck -- what the fuck happened?"

"You're starting to really get on my fuckin’ tits, pretty thing. Would y'just let me the fuck inside?", he growls, tilting his head towards you. His tone has the hairs on your arms rising, as he is starring you into the ground.

You back up, colliding unpleasantly with the doorframe, that nearly drills itself into your left shoulder.

"Thank you, Lady", he's squeezing past you and then turns around again, giving you a quick one-over. You are unable to move, mesmerized by the way he's looking at you.

The corners of his mouth tilt up again and one of his hands, a little sticky and red with his own blood, comes up to his face, straightening his moustache, as his gaze runs over your body once more. You should leave, you should run - clearly, something is awfully and so not right but you just can't, being glued to the spot by his eyes.

It shouldn't make your loins grow hot, but you can't help it. You feel your belly tingle, shooting sparks down down down between your legs. He is very attractive and the aura of pure fucking danger that wafts around him doesn’t do what it normally should do – instead, it pulls you in. Oh, aren’t you just fucked.

"What were y'saying about help, again?", the man murmurs, gaze locking with yours.

"Uuuh", it's a very stupid sound you make and his eyes spark up at that, lips giving room to flash some teeth, "I-I just said you look like you might need some help?"

"Well, maybe I do."

He licks his lower lip and you blink, gaze following the movement.

This is very stupid. This is risky, dangerous, and most likely something you are going to regret.

It's not only the situation, it's him, too. He seems dangerous. It's not only the blood, mind you. It’s the way he moves, how his eyes dart through the room, over your body. It’s the aggression in his voice that he’s trying to hide, cover up but ultimately fails, something that seeps through every pore of him.

But he's also just ridiculously hot, walking with his crotch first, heavy northern British accent swirling the words around his tongue and, fuck, it's mostly the way he's looking at you.

And you're just so fucking full of anger and grief and your life feels strangely directed and determined by your shitty-ass fiancé and there's so much rage and sadness -

You take a step into the bathroom and the door slides shut behind you.

"Good", he hums, "Because you do look, like you could also use some help."

The door locks behind you and take another step forward, approaching him. "You have no fucking idea", revenge sex is a very stupid concept but now, it seems very tempting. It's exciting and makes you feel oddly alive.

"Did'ya get dumped?", and you don't know why you trust him with that information but you can hear yourself say: "Cheated on. Fiancé of twelve months." There is a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can smell him now, the blood on his skin and clothes, the heavy scent of his perfume – it’s warm and thick, vanilla and fruit, like an orange grove.

"Allow me the comment - that's one bloody stupid bastard."

You look up at him and blink. That man's insanely pretty and you swallow as he pulls you in even closer, your hand connecting with his chest. It is firm and warm and your fingers get a little sticky with the fresh blood on his shirt. They splay out, feeling the firm muscle flex beneath the expensive fabric.

"How much time d'we have, sugar?", he hums, runs his thumb across your lower lip.

"I have to get off in Nagoya."

"Gonna get you off alright now, sweetie", you roll your eyes at that and he chuckles, "Bit more than half'n hour I'd say. Think we can manage that?"

You nod while biting your lip, adrenaline thick and heavy in your veins, pumping your blood down south and making you wet wet wet, and he laughs at that, runs his tongue along his bright, bright teeth.

It's sheer excitement that has your belly tingle and you lock your eyes with his, the darkening blueish green pulling you in and then he leans down, locks his lips with yours.

They are soft and warm and his moustache tingles a little. You hum against his lips, one hand fisting his vest as the other sneaks up his muscular arm, runs over and through the blood, up up up next to the cut and comes a halt on his neck. The hand on your waist holds you close, fingers spread out delicately as he starts to feel you up.

His tongue darts out and licks over your lips and you gladly give him more room, parting your lips slightly. He's pushing in, licking into your mouth. You hum deep in your throat, pressing against him, tasting the cigarette smoke on his lips.

You can feel the bulge in his pants, his dick pressing hotly against your lower belly. It ignites your loins, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

You moan into his mouth and he responds by pushing you back, heaving you up the small sink, deepening the kiss. Your back presses against the mirror as you clutch onto him, hand running up his neck and into his hair, slick with product and a little sticky with sweat. Your knees hit his hipbones and the man starts to roll his hips into yours, having his hard dick rubbing against your crotch and your eyelids flutter with the feeling. He's rock-hard and so so hot through his dress pants and you can't fucking wait to get to it.

He eventually breaks the kiss, breath ragged as his eyes roam over your face, hands feeling your thighs up. You decide that you need more of him and thus, your free hand roams over his chest, fingers making quick work of his vest. As soon as you pop the last button, he hastily tears it off of himself, throws it to the ground where it lands with a quiet thud.

"C'mon sweetheart, I know you clammin' to touch me", he says, voice deep and raspy and you do - like you're on fucking autopilot. Your hands dart out, roaming over his defined chest. He feels nice and firm and makes you want him more, want to feel all of him, all at once.

He hums quietly, as you open a few buttons of his shirt and run your hands over the sweaty, warm skin, through the dust of fine chest hair, making his chain rustle. He feels nice and it makes you want him.

The man looks up from your hands and you don't know what has come over you as your hand glides up further, cupping his neck, thumb on his jawline. "Fuck me", you breathe, "Fuck me 'til I can't walk."

He grins and leans in even closer, his clothed and hard dick pressing against your wet panties, as he's kissing a wet trail from your jaw to your ear. "Who would've thought - such a naugh'y lil'mouth on such a pretty woman."

You hook one leg around his waist, tugging lightly at the hair that's curling in his neck as he starts to suck on your neck. The slight pain ignites your lust, has arousal blooming and wetness pooling between your legs. You want to tell him to stop, before he marks you up for good as --

"Name's Tangerine", he suddenly rasps, as his tongue rubs over the spot he has been sucking on and you're pretty damn sure that he just gave you a hickey.

"Like the-"

"The fucking fruit, yeah. 'M gonna burst you more like something of a cherry, though", he rumbles, quietly laughing to himself with his fingers digging into your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses himself flush against you - all firm muscles, perfume, and hot skin - tongue licking over your throat like the hot blade of a knife, dancing over your jaw.

It's most likely not his real name and that should really, really alert you. But it doesn't - instead you surrender yourself to him, letting your head fall back and parting your legs, inviting him in.

And the man -Tangerine - follows suite and shoves your dress up up up, runs his hands over your now exposed thighs. You lean forward a little, until your lips brush over his. "Name's Y/N", you whisper and his eyes glint a little at that, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, you gon' be a fun one", he grins and you do too, before leaning in and kissing him again. He is less gentle now, keen on getting you hot, his kisses turn sloppy quickly, biting your lower lip and licking into your mouth until you lack air. The thumbs on your legs dive in deeper, until they connect with your crotch. And then, one of them gently runs over your soaked panties.

Tangerine breaks the kiss, wet lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, only to inhale sharply - keeps his cheeks puffed theatrically for a short moment, then exhales just as sharply, eyeing you up and down. "Jesus Christ, that pussy of yours s'fucking wet, innit?", he rumbles and two of his fingers run over the wet fabric once more, slowly starting to rub your clit.

You gasp, hips bucking a little and you watch the way his hand vanishes under the hem of your dress. "Fuck", you moan quietly as he quickly finds the spot that makes your thighs clench. He rubs you through your panties, soft lace turning wet wet wet and dampening his skin. Your mouth falls agape seeing his wrist twitching between your legs and the way he's looking down at it, a little mesmerized, makes your head swim. Then, he stops.

"Yeah, let's get those off", he mutters, more to himself than to you and then he's tugging at the straps of your panties, riiips the lace and tears them apart. "Oh-", you gasp unintelligently as he carelessly drops them to the ground and you really don't fucking mind at all.

It's the first time in a long time that you feel wanted, like someone's actually hungry, greedy for you. And it turns you on. A lot. It is like Tangerine has flipped a switch and you want him just as much as he seems to want you. And you want it now.

You blink at him through your lashes. "You gonna touch me now?"

"Easy, love", he chuckles, genuinely amused and then his fingers are slooowly creeping back over your legs, until his index finger finally touches your exposed cunt. The touch is cold, but not unpleasant and you suck in a sharp breath, one that hitches in your throat.

He watches you, as he runs it over your pussy, quickly joined by a second, digits running up and down, spreading your slick. You hum, pleasure building up in your abdomen and then, finally, his fingers return to your clit.

Slow, wide circles spread your lips apart, making you moan and throwing your head back in pleasure. His bracelet clinks as he quickly picks up a faster rhythm, keen on seeing you coming loose, circles growing smaller.

"Oh shit, yes that's fucking it", you can feel arousal building in your stomach, shooting through your body. Tangerine laughs under his breath and his lips are onto you again, licking and sucking over your straightened neck. You don't give a fuck anymore, the slight pain of him bruising your skin makes your hips buck and rolling against his digits.

"Such a good girl, ain't ya?, he groans against your neck and it sends shivers down your spine as you're moaning and gasping, nodding frantically.

Your body feels like it has been ignited, with the way his fingers rub your clit, teasing your pussy and then there's one finger circling your hole and fuck, you really fucking need it. You spread your legs farther and Tangerine puuushes in, sinks one rather cold finger in your hole, your hot hot skin meeting the cold gold of his ring.

Tangerine starts to fuck you slowly, finger pushing in and out of you, until you're loose enough to take a second one. His rings thrust against your hole every time he pushes them back inside and the sensation has you whining, his lips still glued to your neck, occasionally moving down down down to you cleavage, licking fat stripes over your warm, sweaty skin.

A flood of very good, very dangerous emotions has one of your hands abandoning the sink, instead running up his arm, splaying across his shoulder. You can feel the muscles working slightly beneath the light blue fabric, a little dampened by his sweat. "Fuck, you make me so hot, shit, that feels so good", you whimper quietly, gasping as his fingers push even deeper. It seems to kick Tangerine off, moustache grazing your skin as he’s picking up an even faster rhythm - rubbing, circling your clit faster, adding more pressure - obscene squelching sounds filling the air of the small bathroom. You moan as pleasure shoots up your spine, has you rocking on and against his fingers.

You can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, hole fluttering against the cold, golden rings and then --

He breaks from your throat and whistles lowly as fresh wetness pools around his fingers, your squirt dampening his golden bracelet and the cuff of his shirt.

Tangerine pulls his fingers out of you slowly, slick with your juices and looks at them for a few seconds, the way your wetness is glistening on his skin in the dim lights. He brings them up up up, gaze connecting with yours and then -

They go past his lips, as his tongue darts out and licks them clean. You blink - once, twice. "Fuck", you breathe, and he chuckles.

"You taste like a fuckin' dream, love", his hands push your legs further apart and before you know it, he sinks down to his knees. You blink at him, as he lifts the hem of your dress up, "Might wanna hold that f'me", and you do, pulling the fabric as high up as you can, exposing yourself to him further.

Tangerine tsks as he takes the sight in and you can feel your cheeks growing hot, burning red, as his fingers dance over your pussy.

"Don't ya just have the prettiest cunt?", he hums, running his fingers through your folds, "'M gonna fuck ya so good."

"Jesus, Tangerine", you huff out, legs shaking a little as his thumb carefully rubs over your clit.

Tangerine looks up at you, smirking a little and then he's leaning in, hands coming to rest on your thighs, forcing your legs apart. He's not breaking eye contact, keeps your gazes chained together, as he dives in and licks a long, fat stripe from your hole upwards to your clit.

You fucking mewl, as his moustache rubs over your sensitive skin, tongue circling your clit for a short moment. His eyes gleam up at you, watching your reaction as his tongue swipes down, over your folds to your hole, teasing it. It has your legs kicking a little and you grab the sink with both your hands, as your thighs give a quick shake.

You can hear him chuckle deep in his throat and it makes you hot hot hot all over, with the way his tongue crawls back up, lips grazing your cunt and then he's onto your clit once more, gently lapping at it, placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin.

A strangled noise escapes your throat as arousal rushes through your abdomen and up up up your whole body, has your chest heaving with a ragged breath and rolling your hips forward. It's so so good, but not enough - you just need more.

"Don't ya move, love", Tangerine rasps and one of his hands grabs your hips forcefully, dress sliding up to your navel as he's holding you in place. The other crawls up your lower leg and thigh, teasing your folds and then one finger presses against your hole, pushes in roughly.

You moan as he immediately starts to fuck you with it, pumping your wetness in and out of you with a rather merciless rhythm, keen on having you come for him, having you squirt once more.

His eyelids flutter, long and dark lashes against his pale skin as his tongue licks over your folds, tasting your wetness and taking your scent in. You're tasting so so sweet to him, like a fucking forbidden fruit that he's going to devour anyways, because he can and he will and because fuck the rules he had set himself for this job.

He closes his eyes as he pushes a second finger into you, pumping them in and out of you, while his tongue laps at your cunt, lips closing in around your folds, gently sucking. His fingers are fucking you fast now, pushing you further and further.

"Oh god", you gasp, one hand still holding your own weight, the other now fisting his hair, pulling it. It seems to spur him on, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cunt, gently nibbling at the soft skin as his finger pumps into you. It's even better than before, with his beard scratching you and his tongue and lips gliding over your cunt as if it were a riddle he's going to solve without his hands. The heel of your shoe digs into his back - desperate for any leverage, to just feel him - as you are nearing your release.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck", your voice sounds strange in your ears, high-pitched and far far away, between the squelching sounds that his rapidly moving fingers pull out of your pussy, "I'm gonna-"

He hums and then, after a short moment, pulls his digits out of you and grabs your hips hard, holding you in place, not stopping his tongue from rubbing over your cunt hard.

It tips you over the edge, has you breaking loose. You gasp loudly, throwing your head back against the mirror, incoherent rambling leaving your lips as you come - riding your orgasm out on his face as he licks you through your orgasm, your hips bucking wildly with it.

As your orgasm rolls over you, you already know that this isn't over. Usually, you would be spent for now, calm and a little tired but right now - you're not at all, lust still rolling over you, fresh wetness pooling between your legs again. "Mhm, shit", you breathe, feet kicking a little as Tangerine's tongue continues to flick over your clit. You are still wet, already desperate for more, more of him.

All you can think about is his hard dick, that you've felt earlier pressing against your crotch and pure want tingles in your stomach. Tangerine's lips close in around your throbbing clit, overstimulation making your head swim.

"Please, fuck, please", your hip bucks against his iron grip that holds you steadily against the sink. Tangerine looks up at you again and let’s go of your clit with an obscene pop. His moustache is dampened by your wetness as he grins up at you. "Please please", he mocks your high-pitched whines and then smirks, "Wan'it that bad, love?"

"Need you - ah, fuck - inside me. Oh, shit", you whine, as your hole clenches around nothing, desperate for more than his fingers. You are so turned on by this stranger, lust crashing over your body like waves - you can feel its tingle in your chest, your legs, feeling your pussy desperate for another touch.

Tangerine blinks for a moment and you're sure, that you saw his eye twitch and then he, very dramatically, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "Shit, love, you make me feel all sorts o'things", he says quietly and then quickly gets up, wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He leans in and his lips lock with yours again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, as he licks into your mouth, grinning against your lips, damp stache rubbing over your upper lip. He licks over it, groans deep in his throat, while his hands brush over your legs, before he commands, whispers against your lips: "Bend over the sink f'me.”

"What?", you blink, words not really reaching you through the lustful haze that has wrapped your brain in like cotton candy. All you can do is look at him, at this very handsome stranger with the very fake name and he has your head swimming, brain giving in and surrendering to lust once more.

You take the hand he offers you as he helps you down the sink, your legs a little wobbly. "Alright c'mon now, girl, don't keep me waitin'", Tangerine gives you a light pat on the cheek, rings barely connecting with your skin - a patronizing gesture that has your knees going ever weaker for a moment as you try to turn around, hands gripping the edges of the sink.

You watch him in the mirror, as he makes quick work of his belt and the fly of his trousers. As he pulls his dick out, your mouth waters. It's long and big and has just the right girth, a drop of precum glistening on its tip. You'd really like to suck that cock, like right motherfucking now.

Tangerine looks at you. "Got all hungry fo'it?", and you nod - breathing out Fuck yeah - arching your back for him, "Alright love, just a minute."

He spits in his hand and rubs the saliva over his dick, giving himself one, two strokes. You arch your back, keeping your eyes on him as he grabs your hips hard, lines himself up, head of his dick resting against your hole - all hot and hard - and then he finally, finally pushes himself in. The stretch is nice and has you squirming a little with the dull pain, excitement lighting your nerves up.

"Jesus Christ", his head falls forward a little, "You're so fuckin' tight."

He bottoms out, forcing himself in deep, holding still. You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, but he doesn't move and you can see his chest heaving, hear him grunt. His hand roams over your bare ass, shoving the dress even higher, until your back is partly exposed and his hand creeps around your body, over your stomach and under the dress, slips beneath your bra and cups one of your tits.

Tangerine squeezes it, feels you up and then pulls his dick back out only to quickly push himself back in. The sound that leaves your throat is nothing but desperate and your hand grips the sink harder, knuckles slowly turning white. His jaw is going a little slack as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you slowly.

"Ah shit", he groans, a deep and coarse sound, that makes you shiver, "Doesn't that just feel lovely?"

He watches the way his dick pumps into your pussy, eyebrows drawn together, lips slightly agape - until his gaze meets yours in the mirror once more and there it is - a shadow that dances over his eyes, turning the mesmerizing blue and green dark dark dark. One of his hands suddenly darts forward, rings glimmering in the dim light, only to roughly grab your chin, forcefully holding your head in place. It hurts a little, but the pain feels good, the way it stretches your back and intensifies the arch of it, forces you to look at him and yourself. Your mascara is pooling beneath your eyes, pupils blown wide and cheeks reddened.

"Would'ya just look at yourself", Tangerine groans, "Ya might be the hottest fucking thing I've seen in a long fuckin' time --" He groans again, thumb catching your lower lip and you moan as you watch his face coming a little loose with pleasure.

Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, thrusting into you and you push your hips back, meeting him - desperate for more more more. He grins at you in the mirror and his hand creeps a little lower, until it rest riiight below your jawline and then -

Then he squeezes.

It has you gasping, choking a little at the sudden loss of air and the feeling of your windpipe being closed. Your hip bucks against his and he licks his lips.

The lack of air has adrenaline rushing through your veins once more, as his dick pushes against your spongy hot walls and you feel your body surrendering to him fully, the small voice in the back of your head remembering you that You are at his mercy has you growing even wetter.

The hand lets go off your throat, now gently holding your head in place and you suck in a few deep breaths, gasping, greedily sucking in the air, as --

There must be a bump on the rails, as the wagon suddenly lifts a little and has you thrown forward towards the mirror, shoves his dick deeper into you. You moan, instinctively catching his eyes in the mirror.

His lips are slightly parted, eyes darkened by lust and his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The train speeds up just as he leans forward, throws his chest against your back. His body is so so hot against yours and your walls flutter around his dick, as his scent wraps you in once more.

Tangerine lowers his head, until his forehead rests on your shoulder, cock twitching inside of you. "Ya have no bloody idea what'cha doin' to me, Lady", he says, voice coarse and dark and your eyelids flutter, "'M gonna ruin ya."

He lifts his head a little and your gazes connect in the mirror once more. A shiver runs down your spine - he means it.

And you feel it, too, as he thrusts into you once, knocks the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of it. The tip of his dick hits the spot perfectly and you nearly cry out in pleasure, hands gripping the sink tightly. There are small lines forming around his eyes as he's grinning against your shoulder, pulls out a little only to force himself back in, even deeper this time. The hand that was toying with your tit leaves, crawls back down and his arm wraps itself around your waist, holds you close.

Your legs shake as Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, starts pounding in to you like a starved man, like an animal gone wild. It's in his eyes, hunger hunger hunger and you feel pleasure shooting through your body, pooling in your abdomen. You squirt against his dick, wetting the trimmed pubic hair as his balls slap against your wet skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, a strangled high pitched whiny moan escaping your lips, as he hits your walls again, tip of his dick brushing over your g-spot, having you seeing stars. Your eyelids flutter, gasps escaping your mouth with every one of his thrusts.

"Be fuckin' loud, you lil'slut, I don't care - one - bit", he says through gritted teeth, each word one thrust, "If they come knockin'. I’ll kill’em."

It shouldn’t – really, it shouldn’t – but it has your head swimming, rocking back against him, obscene sounds filling the small bathroom and you moan loudly. His jewellery rustles and clinks as he ruts into you, huffing against your shoulder. The force of his thrusts has your body moving back and forth like a ragdoll, hipbones bouncing against the sink, one of your hands coming loose and pressing flat against the mirror, desperate for any sort of leverage.

You can feel yourself clenching around him, white hot pleasure building on the edges of your brain, until there's nothing left but him him him.

"Fuck", you cry out, "I'm gonna fucking cum, shit shit shit", lips falling agape with pure pleasure. It’s too much and you can feel your muscles tensing.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more and that’s all you need – has your eyes falling shut, your second orgasm rolling over you. It knocks the air straight out of your lungs, has you going limp, while the muscles in your thighs and abdomen clench, holding and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can hear him moan deeply, sounding far far away and then his cum hits your walls, paints it as he buries himself deep deep inside of you. You gasp, desperate for air and he lets go off your throat.

You suck in a few breaths and feel him doing the same, chest heaving against your back. "Fuck", he says and slowly straightens back up, looking at you in the mirror.

"Y'good over there, love?"

"Uh-huh", you hum, unable to speak, and blink at him. His hair's a mess and his cheeks are a little reddened, glistening with sweat.

Tangerine fucking winks at you and then slooowly, very carefully pulls out of you. You inhale sharply as you feel some of his cum following suite, dripping down your legs. You want to straighten up, too, clean it up, but he's quicker, taking one of the disposable towels and gently sweeps along your cunt.

"'S good, I can do that too, y'know", you say and take it from him, cleaning yourself up. For a long moment, while you can hear him putting himself back in his pants, there's silence between the two of you. Only, as you carefully put your dress back in place, does he look at you again.

"Be careful tonight, sweetheart", he says nonchalantly while tugging his shirt back into his slacks. He says it like it's nothing but it has the hairs on your body standing up.

I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. You look on the slight stains that his blood left on your fingers, that soaked his shirt.

"Make you sure you get out of that train in Nagoya, y'hear me?", his gaze is soft as it lands upon you. Your brain goes numb with anxiety.

"Y-yeah, yeah sure. I'm meeting a friend there, wouldn't miss her for the world."

He smiles at that. A genuine, warm smile. It does something funny to your stomach. "Alright love, gotta dash", he's straightening his vest and giving himself a glance in the mirror, running his hands through his hair, "There's this chap I gotta get rid of. Gimme a call, when you're in London, would'ya?"

You just nod and take the slim, white card he hands you. The numbers on it are orange.

"Very fucking funny", you huff and he grins, leans down towards you, and places his lips on your cheek. The kiss is feather-light but it'll haunt you late at night in the weeks, months to come after the story of the crashed bullet train breaks the international news. But right now, it makes your chest tingle in all the right ways.

"Tis'a good girl, eh?", Tangerine whispers and then, throwing one last look at you, struts out of the door.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine x reader #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

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targwife · 29 days

Text

CRUSH - MALACHY GRANGER

summary: getting trapped by a storm over at the boathut leads to a night-in with an older guy working at the jetty. cw: pure filth, age gap, pinv, porn with barely any plot, english isn't my first language! not proof read. wordcount: 4,293

The cold prickled at your skin as you finished tying up the boats to the jetty pegs, saying your goodbyes to the last customers; tourists who were willing to pay a pretty penny to rent a wooden craft and pretend to live the fishing town-local experience. as annoying as they were, they allowed you to get this summer job at the dock while waiting for your last year of school. as you pulled out your blackberry to check the time, 10 pm, rain began to drip down softly, but summer storms never remained light for long.

You ran for the protection of the boat hut in a hurry, going to look for any actual fishermen still working or at least the keys to the little house upstairs, you lived nearby enough to get just fine without a car normally but walking wouldn’t do in this weather.

“Get lost we’re done for the day” A gruff, thickly accented voice sounded from behind a couple of upright boats that were getting fixed up.

You couldn’t help but scoff out a laugh at his terrible attitude “I’m not a tourist” The rain began downpouring outside the posts of the boat hut.

“You’re the girl Arj got renting out the boats?” You finally saw him, a man about 8 or 9 years your senior, his face unshaven with his hair a dark blond, his clothes were dark and baggy and practical for his job, slightly dirtied up by this time after hours of work.

You nodded, focusing involuntarily on the way he rubbed his hands clean on a rag, staining it with the dark motor oil he got on them while working, they looked strong and used, not at all like your last boyfriend’s; All soft and new, if a scratch got on them, it was from football practice.

He extended one of them to you, a smirk tugging on his lips, “Malachy”.

You finally realized who he was when you heard him call his name, Arj had mentioned him a few times, said he usually worked late hours after his shifts at the factory so you wouldn’t see much of him. You told him your name and he repeated it as you shook his hand. “Bit of a situation we got ourselves in, aye?” When he spoke those words you realized the rain wouldn’t stop for hours and you cursed yourself. “Or maybe not, won’t your daddy come pick you up?”

“Dad’s out of town” You should have focused on defending yourself against his mocking before responding but you were so worried about being trapped in there the whole night.

He clicked his tongue “That’s tuff” Malachy spoke nonchalantly as he got done with his job putting his tools away messily. “Don’t look at me all sad, my brother’s got the car tonight, can’t take you ‘ome” He told you when he saw your wide-eyed, distressed face.

“Do you mean for me to sleep on a boat?” You told him slightly bewildered at his lack of care for the situation, you were locked at the edge of town by the rain with no car.

He reached for his back pocket and pulled out a pair of keys, not really bothered by your attitude, when compared with Amy you seemed like a total sweetheart “Go upstairs, I still got to test out this one-” he pointed with the keys to one of the boats behind him “-out on the water so I still have a while left” You took them when he handed them over and smiled extremely thankful “I’ll leave as soon as the rain stops” You assured Malachy, who was already getting the boat down from the suspension, a small sigh of effort escaping his lips as he pulled on the rusty lever “Sleep tight, then”.

You sat on the counter with your legs crossed, one hanging lazily from it, you had put your hair up as soon as you arrived and had changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt you found in a neat little pile with clothes of a few different sizes and styles, they seemed a mix from friends staying over and «missing items» that would probably end up getting turned into rags anyway. as you sipped on some instant coffee from the only clean mug you could find, not wanting to fall asleep out of self-preservation instincts, you looked around the studio that was the boat hut; A few string lights and neon «cafe» sign illuminated the room in an odd mix of oranges and pinks and reds. Down in front of the small utilitarian kitchen was an old red couch as well as a black leather one by another wall, the bed in the corner behind some string beads and curtains was placed on the floor with a messy array of mismatched bed sheets on top. It was comfortable, you thought, especially as the rain battled against the window right in front of you, mixing with the sound of the CD you had found already in the boombox, music from the late 90s played on it and you could imagine malachy recording it back on his high school days just right.

The door opened and in came Malachy, he had his hood on to protect him from the rain, the off-color fabric darkened to pitch black from it. He looked at you while he kicked out his shoes and searched around his pockets, successfully pulling out a fag from the small box. “Comfortable, are we?”.

You smiled a bit, it’s not that you were shy, but staying the night over at this place with him took away your wits a bit “I thought you weren’t coming by now” You confessed while reaching for one of the upper open cabinets, remembering seeing an ashtray when you looked for the mug, when you found it you got up from the counter and placed it on a small coffee table, he simply nodded at you and lit his cig, sitting down on the red sofa for a smoke after work, his eyes closing softly as he leaned back on it, tired.

“You need a back massage?” You offered amused, staring intently as he stretched his neck after pulling his hood down.

“’M trying to do as many hours as possible” He explained, his fag hanging from his mouth after he blew the smoke “Saving up to leave town one day” You scoffed with a mocking smile, leaning against the counter and setting down your coffee. “What’s so funny?”.

“Everyone says that but no one ever leaves” He looked at you, wanting to deny your words and get angry at your claims, but he just smiled and shook the ash from his cig leaning over to the tray, finding you interesting enough.

“Do you mean to stay here forever?”

“It’s kinda pretty, I think” Malachy listened intently to you and it made you lick your lips before continuing “Being born and dying in the same place, you know? Like a full circle”

“I just find it sad to be honest” As he saw the way you pursed your lips at his answer Mack realized how nice you looked, you were far from the first girl the brothers brought up to the boathouse, but, still, he knew a pretty girl when he saw one and the red glow from that stupid neon sign they got years ago, back when they meant to make the hut a cafe made him stare a few seconds, a smile tugging at his lips.

“That’s because boys can never see the pretty things in life” You retaliated, he liked the irony of your timing, but he just took another breather of his fag before answering.

“I’m not a boy, you know”

You two had been talking for over two hours by now, the rain long one, still, neither of you said anything about it as you spoke about your stupid hopes and dreams or joked about the silliest things, you learned a few things about him; He had been working for ten years and he was 26 now, he had been trying to break up with this girl you went to school with, amy knightly, the boat hut used to be his father’s before him but now Arj ran it mostly and he had a dog back at her mom’s house, a retriever mutt he got at 18.

The more you listened the closer you wanted to be to him, maybe it was the multiple beers you both were having after he asked you to get him one from the fridge, or maybe it was how you just kept noticing how attractive he was, sitting beside him on the couch you could see his reddened eyes, nose and lips and darkened under eyes from being out on his boat, the way he smelled like sea salt and his cigarettes and a sweet woody musk from the wood varnish used on his craft, it was intensely masculine and captivating and you couldn’t get enough.

“If you want me to fuck you just say it” You snapped back realizing in half-drunken embarrassment the lewd way you had been eyeing him since you got up for your fourth beer of the night.

You walked back to the couch, setting the drink on the coffee table with a tight-lipped smile, a mix of embarrassment and a terrible quip brewing up “You realize not every high schooler wants to fuck you, right?” You gave Mack a giddy smile as his fell, throwing a pillow at you while you laughed at his bothered expression.

“Don’t be an arsehole, mhm?” He said, taking a swig of his beer while looking at you right after, his blue eyes were burning your skin and you felt the heat all over you as he bulged his tongue against his cheek still annoyed but slightly amused.

You got up to throw away the bottles as Malachy was trying to ready up the couch to sleep, your mind was just clear enough to perform the simple task but as you were walking back to him the drinks caught up to you, tripping against the coffee table; mack quickly reacted, one hand going to your shoulder as another held onto your waist, keeping you upright before you had time to fall, you felt his breathing coming over you as you lifted your head to look at him, you swallowed thickly at the view, his messed up hair from the zip-up hoodie and tightly closed lips as he breathed through his nose regularly, seemingly unbothered by the closeness, you could feel his rough jeans on your bare legs and his hands didn’t let go of you.

Those seconds felt like ages, the pinning for each other hurt as you both held eye contact, he licked his lips without saying a word, trying to hide his small smirk as his hand snaked from your shoulder to the side of your neck his fingers tangling in the loose hairs from the ponytail, the touch of his hands on bare skin was exactly as you imagined, hot and rough as were his lips when they crashed against yours without needing a word, your hands went up to his waist trying to close any remaining distance between you, pulling him until his pelvis leaned against your body.

Your knees went weak as he kissed you, it was nothing like the sloppy mess you were used to with the boys in your class, Mack seemed so experienced and skilled that it made ideas run wild in your mind, completely ignoring the repercussions this might bring.

He smiled as you both tore apart for air, a breathy chuckle parted his lips in a way that had you gawking at him like a schoolgirl, though you supposed that was indeed what you were. “This is so wrong” You spoke with a slight laugh, getting so red your skin felt warm.

“You wanna stop?” He spoke still a bit breathless just like you, looking into your eyes for any sort of doubt, you saw pure mischief in his face as you shook your head no, his smile seemed so mocking that it made you feel in danger, though the feeling went away as soon as he backed down to the couch, dragging your wrist to make you come onto his lap, which you obeyed without resistance.

As you climbed up his lap his hands came under your shirt, almost giving you goosebumps. “You’re so fucking pretty” He almost whispered as he recalled your words from earlier, his accent making his already gruff voice reverberate in your head, or at least that��s what it felt like to you in your mesmerized, tipsy state.

You kissed his lips again, one hand on the wall behind the couch and another tangled in his short hair, Malachy traced your body with his, aching to get rid of the excess fabric. “You’re so desperate”.

“I don’t like waiting” Satisfied with his response, you raised up, your body still sitting on his crotch, and removed your top in haste. You had piled your bra away with the rest of your clothes and Mack seemed rather happy about it, that smug, intimidatingly handsome smile on his face has he saw you exposed, the palm of his hand cupping your right breast as his thumb teased your nibble with its pad.

“Be fair with me…” You begged, rolling your hips as you sat down with a bit more pressure. The light falling over your face and the back of his neck was blue and silver with moonlight and streetlights while your body and his face were silhouetted in the red neon sign, he looked so perfect to you as he parted his lips when he felt your contact, quickly paying attention to your words as he sat up to remove his zip-up and shirt.

Broad and strong and not overly defined, with a happy trail of light hair that ran from his belly button all the way beneath his denim, his body was just as you expected, as seemingly all of him was; a reliable, traditional man who worked from dusk till dawn and came home to fuck you silly before repeating the routine. You liked that it wasn’t all guessing and assuming like with the boys, it was easy to lose yourself to him.

After an eternity of a soft back and forth on his lap, feeling each sigh he gave you, his eyes never leaving yours, you could tell that he was getting impatient.

“Let’s get you out of those, yeah?” He coddled you in that voice oh his that made thinking difficult, his fingers doing quick work of the tie front of the cotton lounging shorts, you saw him smile to himself as he dragged them down hurriedly, especially when you got up just to remove them, leaning forward to put a supporting hand on his thigh as you stepped out of them.

As much as the way his big eyes looked up at you demanding for you to get on him instantly, you smiled softly as you shimmied out of your day-of-the-week undies, which he noticed with a smiling scoff. His eyes trailed up your legs as these fell to the floor and continued up your whole naked form.

“You’re not Arj’s girl, are you?” He asked as you came back onto him and his hands went up the backs of your thighs to your ass, it’s not that he would stop at this point, but it would be nice to know.

You shook no with a sweet little smile, you could feel him bulge against his jeans in a way that felt delicious as you stirred on his lap. “Just his employee”.

He nodded amused, leaning his head back as he felt you probably staining his work clothes, not that he cared right now “He better don’t find out then, yeah?”

Malachy knew your response as you began to mess with the button on his pants, he was a bit less drunk, so he easily got rid of them enough for you to trace a finger down his hardened but domestic belly. it sent a shiver down his spine and if you weren’t so focused on getting into his pants you would have gotten the same as he left out a low, elongated curse out his lips when you palmed him over his boxer briefs.

Even though he found it quite cute when you almost tripped over yourself trying to get rid of his jeans and briefs, Mack felt a tang of responsibility as he looked at your worried pout; He was bigger than any of the boys you had been with, granted they weren’t huge, but he made it hard not to notice, dizzyingly long and girthy, it wasn’t overly veiny but just enough, he had a few moles on the base and you smiled sheepishly as you took it into your hand and noticed another on its thick tip.

He took your wrist and brought your hand up midway, spitting on it without any need for words. As you kept up eye contact you wrapped your hand around him, the look on his face was electrifying as if the only thing you ever wanted to do was pleasing him.

You started moving your hand up and down with a repetitive rhythm, focusing on his reactions; Sights and small words of praise that almost sounded like whispers, you were thankful for the slickness the spit gave you as you could just be delighted by staring at how he leaned his hand back in sheer pleasure, it was perfect.

He seemed to last more than the boys, too, you noticed how he kept his breathing almost regular and how his focus was on you the entire time, making you crave him even more. You hurried up your movements, trying to get to see him getting that sweet release, instead, he just held your wrist again, not fully stopping you, “Don’t fucking do that” This time his expression was like that of someone scolding a puppy.

“I just want you to feel good, Mack” You didn’t know if it was the nickname or your pathetic tone, but Malachy grabbed your thighs and brought you closer to him, letting go of your arm.

He turned to his jeans that were sprawled on the armrest of the sofa and from his back pocket he pulled out his wallet, you smiled. “Tis back practice to keep condoms in your wallet, you know? Makes them not last as long” He looked at you with a frown on his brow and a slight smile, he found you incredibly attractive, he would risk another thousand arguments with Amy for you if he didn’t.

“If you want me to I could just ditch it” You couldn’t help but give a breathy little laugh at his simplicity, weakened by the way his voice sounded now, all hoarse and already a bit spent.

You took the condom from his hand and made quick work of it, biting the inside of your cheek as you did it, a simple gesture of concentration that made him so impatient for being inside of you.

Not that he had to wait for long, you took him in your hand and rubbed it against your core in a way that made you close your eyes to avoid any moans from escaping you.

Malachy however, wanting so desperately to hear you that it was almost painful, grabbing a handful of the soft part of your hip as he grabbed himself over your soft hand, guiding it inside in a pleasurable slowness.

“Fuck... you’re soaked” You felt the heat on your face at his words that sounded more like a praise, but you couldn’t answer, even if you weren’t yet pressed against him the stretch from his thickness felt incredible, making you hold on with one hand onto his cheek to make him look at your face, wanting him to see how he was making you feel.

He did see it, his lips parted open and his eyebrows frowned, neither even daring to make a sound as you readjusted yourself, sitting flush against him.

It took you a few moments to even try to move, fearing that it would hurt and distract you from the tight knot beginning in your belly. Malachy tore his eyes away from you for the first time since he got inside of you, his gaze went downwards and the embarrassment you felt only made you slicker with the premise of doing something forbidden; this older, lowlife stranger was seeing all of you and was about to fuck you silly for all that’s worth, and for some reason you trusted him all the more, you felt incredibly good just like this.

The hand that had been teasing your tits moved down with confidence, Mack placed it flat against your belly and began rubbing the slowest circles on your clit with his thumb, it was a teasing, torturous pleasure that made you moan softly as you began moving on him, barely at first, drawing delicious moans from him, who let once again his head backward, his eyes closed trying to focus on the tight, warm feeling that drove him crazy.

It wasn’t long until you needed more, supporting yourself on his thick, muscular thighs behind you as you began increasing your movements, malachy looked back up at you and you felt like he would eat you up right there and then, his waterline was reddened by the lack of sleep and it made him look feral, he kept his fingers on you and his lips slightly parted, groaning gruffly rather than moaning by know, especially as you kept increasing the pace, desperately searching for the release you still felt so far away from.

Mack wasn’t one for passionate sex but he wouldn’t keep his free hand from caressing you, his warm, rough hand holding your waist doing a number on your head.

“I need more” You begged him and you were barely given any time to react before you felt him moving his arms around you, you would have complained about the lost stimulation if it wasn't for the way he laid you on your back on the sofa with your head on the armrest and your hips off the fabric, being hoisted up by his strong arms and thighs.

“You’re making me mad” He admitted almost smiling, the sight of your naked body underneath his did make him go mad, quickly going back to your rhythm and soon after increasing it, it became a pounding that made you move on the couch, his abdomen crashing against your bud on each stroke of his tight, strong hips, his hand supporting him on your belly as he moved mercilessly by the time all the pain was gone, leaving being the sting of being stretched over and over by him, who kept his brows low as he looked at you almost underneath them, he would’ve been scary any other night on the dock but your luck had you holding on to the red sofa as he rammed into you with an animalistic, repetitive motion.

He wasn’t loud but didn’t care for keeping quiet either while you were sure to be giving him a show with your shaky moans from the constant feeling of him almost leaving you before going all the way back inside, it was maddening and your eyes were about to roll back in your skull when he grabbed hold of your ankle to bend your knee further, opening you even more to him.

Malachy had great endurance while you were still inexperienced, especially when it came to coming while doing it, you were sweating and gasping, begging for him to keep going, while he kept his gaze on you letting gasps and sighs leave his lips with the occasional moan, it only made you even more eager for him as the sounds mixed in the lewdest way with the one coming from your bodies crashing, especially given how wet you were for him, which he noticed in his almost out of breath praisings of you and your body.

It didn’t take long for him to make a mess out of you, barely knowing how to mumble for him to go slower, as he was about to make you come; if he heard you or not was up for debate, but he didn’t pay you any mind, feeling the way you tightened around his cock and groaning in return as you squeezed his arm for any kind of support, your eyes rolling back as you arched on the pillows coming around him.

It didn’t make him stop yet, as he tightened his grip around your ankle for leverage and continued fucking into you for long enough to make you clench around him again and again, overly sensitive and teary-eyed from your release.

He couldn’t keep going for much longer after that, even if he adored towering over your fucked-out form, he came with a deep, gruff moan that had your mouth agape and your hand patting around for his arm just so you could pull on it, bringing him down to your face to kiss him softly, which he answered with a tired smile.

It was raining again outside and the both of you couldn’t help but laugh as he scooped you up to move over to the bed though the sky was already a very light blue.

dividers credits: @cafekitsune taglist: @sadpuffpuff @sidrhds @forgetcakes

this is my first story in a loong time so i'm very nervy. would love some feedback!

#malachy granger #malachy granger imagine #malachy granger x reader #malachy the jetty #tom glynn carney #the jetty #tgc #hotd cast #hotd

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kitixie · 1 year

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Little Girl Gone

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (pt. 1)

part two: here

Synopsis: Having been several years since you’d last seen your favorite gangster family, you return to Small Heath a changed woman with a stronger attitude than you had when you left.

information: this will be a multi part story! idk how many parts exactly, but there will be more!

warnings: none for this chapter!

please leave all comments and reccommendations below! thank you for reading!

“Aye, what does a woman have to do to get a whiskey around here?”, you shouted, rapping your hand on the bar counter.

You were seated at The Garrison, it was your first stop back in town. You had lived in Small Heath most of your early life, but five years ago you were forced to leave due to your fathers death and your mothers general distrust (and dislike) of the Shelby family. Your mother had kicked you out a few days ago, claiming that you were old enough to be married now, and that she wouldn’t stand for you staying in her house if you weren’t going to look for a husband.

“Calm down Lady, I’ll- Holy Shit! Y/N, what are you doin’ back!”, a man's voice rang out, making you and the rest of the bar look in his direction.

Arthur Shelby had always been one of your favorite Shelby siblings, and for good reason. He was loud, funny, and typically a gentleman if you caught him on the right day. You leaned over the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly bruising him in the process. You had hoped your whole journey here that he would be the first Shelby you saw, and luck had worked out for you this time.

“Arth, I am sure glad to see you! It’s been a long time, aye?”, you spoke, removing your arms from him and sitting back on your barstool.

“Hell, it’s been about, what, five years? You don’t show your face around these parts for five fuckin’ years and then you just come back?”, he said, staring you in the face, with a somewhat more serious look in his eye than you had expected.

‘Yeah, had some family troubles, but I’m back for good now,” you swallowed, “how's all the Shelby’s doin’?”

“Eh, the usual. Tommys about to run himself ragged, Pol acts like she owns us all, I’m workin’ here now, I actually own the place!” he said, spilling out most of that information in one breath.

You took a quick survey of the bar, noticing how the decor and table setup had changed since you’d seen it last. The floor was still the same sticky, slimy feeling though.

“Glad to see you doing well, Arth. Now, please get me a whiskey an i’ll be outta your way!” you spoke, glad to have reunited with Arthur, but not glad to have been out in public this long.

“Ah, ah. If you think I’m letting you get out of here without seein’ Tom, you’re messed in the head!” He joked, but as you watched him move towards the window to the private room, you realized he wasn’t joking.

You had not come prepared to see Thomas. He was the only one who never got a goodbye, even though the rest of them didn’t know they were goodbyes at the time. When you were being forced to leave, you managed to sneak over to Watery Lane and have one last conversation with all the Shelbys before you left, and you never told them you were leaving that night. Thomas had been on business, but got home a few minutes after you left. You had regretted not speaking to him then, but now that regret had turned into a fear after hearing about the man he had become while you were away. You had heard things about Thomas Shelby, and they were not things any girl would like to hear about her long-time crush.

‘Oy, that Tommy Shelby is a real whore’

‘I heard he gets around Small Heath like its a full time job’

‘He pays them ya know? Every girl he fucks gets paid, even if theyre not workin’ for it!’

Those were all just some of the things you had heard, and those weren’t even the things you had heard that were related to his newfound habit of murdering those who crossed him. You’ve had your eyes on Tommy Shelby ever since you were 16. Now aged 21, it had been a long enough time that you realized what kind of person you needed to settle with, and logically, he wasn’t it.

While this entire catalog of thoughts was running through your head, your eyes watched as Arthur got closer and closer to that window. You knew you weren’t ready to see him yet, if you ever would be. So acting on those primal prey instincts, you ran. You hopped off the barstool, and started pushing your way through the crowd of bar patrons, finally having the door insight. You wrapped your hand around the handle, and pulled it open. Stepping into the cool air of the night, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you closed the bar door behind you. Just as you were stepping away from the door to begin your walk to the apartment you were renting, you bumped into something, or rather, someone.

“Thought I’d let you run from me a second time, aye?”

Fuck.

“I-I-”, you stammered, not having any idea what to say, now that you were staring at the face of one Thomas Shelby.

“It’s okay, I’d be nervous too if I ran into someone I left in the dust five years ago.”, he laughed, letting a puff of cigarette smoke roll out of his mouth.

“Tommy, how did you even know I was out here? I watched Arthur and left before he even opened the window, I don’t underst-”

“Shh. I have my ways, ya know I have my ways.” he spoke, that cool, gravelly voice still hadn’t changed, even after all this time.

You finally looked up at him, releasing the death stare you had on his chest. He was more handsome now, if that was even possible. His dark hair styled perfectly, like he had touched it up before meeting you outside. His hat was missing, which was a rare occurrence, but you were enjoying the unobstructed view of his face. He was lean, only muscle was visible through his white shirt, and his pants hugged his legs perfectly. He was beautiful, especially in the face. You could see more defined freckles in the glow of the street lamp, along with more defined lines carved into his forehead. You continued to study his face, while his studied yours. You had definitely matured in your time away, but not only on your face. Your lips had gotten fuller, cheek bones more pronounced, and hair longer; but you had also grown tits and an ass. You knew you had assets, and fully planned on using them to your advantage, just not on Tommy Shelby.

“My God, Y/N, I’d say you grew up…”, he trailed off, eyes looking all over your face and body.

“Yeah, that tends to happen to people as they age, Tom.” you laughed, feeling suddenly insecure as you stood under his microscope.

“What are ya doin’ back in town? I imagined you ran off and got married or somethin’,” he spoke, “But, I don’t see a ring on that finger so either that can’t be right or you married a poor bastard.”

“Not married Tom, never was. It’s part of the reason I’m back in town, but-”

“What are ya doin’ tomorrow evening?”, he cut off, not even letting you finish explaining how you didn’t want to talk about it right now.

“Nothing I know about, why?”, you asked, having no idea what was about to come out of that pretty mouth of his.

“Join me for dinner, yeah? I’d love to sit down and have a chat with ya, but I got to go handle some business right now.”, he spoke, suddenly sounding strained.

“Uh, I guess I’ll get dinner with ya, where at?”

“My place, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 6, Goodnight, Y/N.” Tom spoke, brushing shoulders with you lightly as he passed by, heading back into The Garrison.

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fic

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chatsukimi · 5 months

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eternal: ten cursed fingers, born from the flame

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: sukuna x fem!reader, fluff, some angst, heianera!sukuna. pt 2.

When Sukuna enters the workshop, he is fifteen and mortal, and you are tending flames by the furnace.

Afternoon sun casts through the straw ceiling. You blink twice as you stare at the doorway. Heaving against it, a boy. Sunspots dance in your eyes.

'Please. Please, I'm dying. Help me!' he begs, and his wrists come up to strangle either side of your face, blood filling your tunic in buckets.

Brutal.

He is a curse user, you sense, his energy pouring out like his soul. You could feel it, flooding the plain room, his impending death.

You are young and what the elders say about helping strangers don't faze you. 'Put your hands in the fire.'

'No!'

His eyes are rolling back. He doesn't have much time left.

You grab his arm, dragging his doll-limp figure to the fire. You shove it into the coal.

Observing the healing, your grandfathers' words echo vaguely at the back of your head. They would come asking for it over and over again. They would chase you like immortality. But maybe, you think, maybe he would save dozens with those hands.

What preoccupies you more, though, squatting beside the boy, is the wonder alit in this stranger's face as his hands glisten back to life by the flames until what touches her is not slime and blood, but tender flesh. Bare fingers.

When he leaves, he does not tell you his name, nor ask for his whereabouts, nor thank you. He does not smile, and he gives no compensation. With the rags on his body, though, you do not think he has enough.

He does not do a lot of things, but the last thing you remember of your first meeting with this boy is that he did not say goodbye.

...

He, indeed, returns. He wears a stone carved lion mask.

'I do not think it's fair that I give you weapons for free,' you say, holding up a sceptre for the -now- man.

He chuckles. Sukuna shows you his innate technique: slash. Examining his technique for hours on end, you welded weapons with similar precision.

Through the years, he arrives later and later at the footsteps of your house during the night. He stops calling out for you from the door. Instead, appears frankly at the furnace where you sleep.

'Fuga,' he whispers, like an inside joke, against your ear- open. At first, you startled awake and nearly bashed him in the face. But you know now that despite his stoicism he is smiling under the mask, appearing on the opposite side of the room in an instant.

A little part of you rejoices at knowing this was an important man you have saved, though your fingers never touched.

You can tell from how he stands with solidifying confidence, toys with the necklace around your neck with the symbol of the Sun, Moon and Stars Squadron without ever grazing your skin, and the cursed energy blistering the summer air now greater than any sorcerer you'd met, he was great. All of the Fujiwara Clan combined does not compare.

Electricity trills under your pulse.

Ten years, he comes and goes.

You do not ask for his name. He does not ask for yours. Sometimes you catch him glancing at you in the corner of your eye, as you're tending the flames.

Years pass.

You forget his face.

You wonder, in his aftermath, if he will forget yours. One day he will get tired of the same old swords in the same old countryside home, you're sure of it. But he drives on back each time like an old man seeking immortality.

When he leaves, you stare at the designs of weapons you gave him. What great things would he achieve with those at his side? Your grandfather never tells you about any jujutsu affairs. Leave the girl to sword-making is his motto.

...

A rumour passes from ear to ear from the Southern Clans to the North. A sorcerer is tearing up villages in a one-person massacre to consume their flesh.

Every villager now inks black prayers on their carriages. Prayers to the living god.

You think, it doesn't hurt.

You, too, stick up rice paper on your windows to shield against the monster you know does not care, roaming through the woods in carnage.

...

The next time he comes, the man is wearing a demon mask.

Half his body, gone.

You push him to a chair. You kneel between his legs. Your hand hovers over his abdomen, where the flimsy stitches had failed to ease the bowels from overflowing. You frown. A flame blossoms from your palm, piecing his body back together. He clenches his teeth and watches you.

Cursed Flame: burns anything back to its prior state.

'What Special Grade curse could do something like this?'

He does not answer.

His sheer height has you sinking into your ankles in respect.

As you back away from the fire, you stumble into his chest. Your feet catch in the mat. In the times before, he had never attempted to touch you. Now his hand is tilting your head up, holding your chin, to look at his face, whom you had never seen before in full view.

You flinch.

Your exhale escapes as a gasp.

‘Are you scared?’

Now you realise what is so frightening about the demon who brutalises whole villages, consumes their flesh- living god. So, this is what thousands died seeing. You swallow, because he is beautiful, this four-eyed demon.

Before you utter a word, he leaves the room.

You whip your head around to inspect the windows. Nothing but wind howls against the house. No shadows but your own etches onto the tatami mat by the fire.

Rippling from all four directions, a voice booms: ‘bow.’

Your knees hit the ground. When he enters the room again, he stops before you. You dare not look at his feet.

The Fujiwara Clan teach their daughters well.

‘Stand.’

Is this a trick? With your head still bowed, you press onto one knee. ‘I do not feel enough to equal your presence, Ryomen Sukuna.’

He laughs.

Oh, how he laughs. So his name truly has spread like wildfire through the Clans, big and small. But something nicks at him, that he cannot see your eyes flickering with your flame, or your mouth working the irregular candy you chew, sometimes, on the job, when you feel comfortable around him. In those moments, he would get the urge to reach out and touch your shoulder, just for your reaction. Would you drop the sword to wrap those flaming hands around him so that he could feel some warmth?

'No. I tell you to rise so you rise.' You stand up. 'What's my name?'

'Ryomen Sukuna.'

'No.' He cups your face with his palm as he'd often dreamt of, when he was a teenager. As he'd often planned, when he grew older into the adult he is now. 'For you, I am Ryo.'

...

Ryo.

He likes it when you look at his face. He tells you sometimes, 'this is what you saved.' The four eyes blinking back at you.

He likes the smell of ash by your neck and often pushes his nose against your skin. An animal, you think to yourself, smiling.

Ryo, he takes what he wants, as the powerful do, so when the day comes, he says, 'come with me.' Out of nowhere.

He leads you out, facing the fields of darling grass and daffodils.

He hasn’t thought this through but he doesn't need to. He opens his mouth, ready to ask the question.

‘I can’t…’ He turns around to watch you speak. ‘... can’t bear child.’

For once, although you have denied his request, his face remains void of anger. Void of anything at all.

At twenty five years old, that’s all Sukuna knows what to want. If he cannot have the girl, then steal something else- after all, what are you worth?

‘Then give me something else.’

‘Have my flame.’ His eyes widen. You press on, ‘but you will protect me, in case my family decides to kill me. The flame is a sacred technique passed down from the family. But when I die, it will be yours.’

Without her cursed technique, she would be ostracised.

Everyone comes to the negotiation table with some line they would not cross. And Sukuna swore to never become a protector.

His mouth pronounces, ‘no.’

'Then what do you want, Ryo?'

He stares at you. He's never denied himself any pleasure in his life, but the way his heart skips a beat- it's what's made his enemies weak to be culled, what brings down great empires (love).

Surely, you would be his downfall.

He could not have you.

'Never mind. I want your Technique.'

He would live 1000 years wondering why those flames in his palms would perform in silence. He’d move them with grace to murder. He’d stare at the sparkling embers in a lake, waiting for it to shift and shape into some form without his control. He would realise, ages and eons in, that he had forgot to specify the fusion of their souls.

‘Deal.’

You were always an abnormally weak sorcerer in body. Never trained to exorcise a curse. Perhaps that’s another reason he suggested it, his one mistake. You were his to protect -no matter how he’d protest- but never were you with him again.

...

The next day, Sukuna wipes out the Fujiwara Clan in its entirety. Destroys them so badly no one recognises the corpses.

Mangled. Twisted. Broken.

He destroys the only thing that would've destroyed you.

It is that night at the beach, rain and seawater tangling your hair, you swear to kill him, the boy you saved so many years ago, even if you would be his for eternity.

Your hands tremble. You almost set fire to the sea.

...

'Ryo.' You're brushing his hair as he tips his head back to look at you, unfazed. 'Why do you do what you do?'

He hums, tangling his fingers through yours. 'Why does it matter my purpose?'

'I was just wondering.' You rub at his hands gently, the living things you saved.

Apparently disliking the silence, Sukuna speaks again. 'I do whatever I want, however I want. I have no purpose.'

When you kill him, he almost grins, as though proud. Had he always acted like this? The strange and feral monster.

'Are you ready to die now?' you ask. Some part of you still recalls the child wailing at the prospect of death.

Sukuna cackles, but before he even flinches as the sword digs through his skin and bones, he props his head before yours, kissing your lips as though playing a trick on you.

His scarlet eyes forever haunt your memory, reflecting the silver of your sword and the red of your flames.

'I'm always ready for you... ... and anyways death is not eternal.'

When the flames extinguish, you realise you had left none of him behind, but the hands. Ten cursed fingers, born and killed from the flame.

pt 2.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #one shot #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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novashelby · 28 days

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Quick Shot~A Tommy Shelby x Reader Smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: smut, p in v, gun talk, language, insinuated gun use, dub con

Summary: To get away, Tommy visits a pub outside of Birmingham. The barmaid is quite interested in his gun and he makes her a little promise. *I got a request for a smut when Tommy teaches reader how to shoot. But there is quite a few one shots like that, so I made something inspired by it. If the person who requested doesn't like this, please request again. :)

Please reblog and comment. Likes are so kind, but reblogs and comments are much more helpful to a writer. :) Please also enjoy!

“Target practice, Mr. Shelby?” she had asked as her hand quickly swiped down at the wooden counter. Little specks of soapy water hit his steam pressed sports jacket. He didn’t mind. Tommy Shelby knew what he was getting into in a pub such as that one. The Garrison was his go-to, but when he wanted to drink in complete solitude while still enjoying background noise, he went to a shabby one in an outskirt village. The barmaid had a bit more edge and hardly cared who he was. Admittedly, he found it to be refreshing. She grinned at him, placing the wet rag at her hip. “Forgetting to leave your big boy toys at home, eh?” The barmaid also lacked the Brummie tongue.

Amused, his lips paused at the rim of his glass as his eyes fluttered upward. “Haven’t been home yet. Too busy.”

“Doing?” She pried a little bit more than the usual woman would. Though to her defense, she only knew Tommy Shelby, the factory owner. Not Tommy Shelby the gangster.

He pulled the glass away from his lips, raising it to her. “Drinking!” he said, a sarcastic undertone that felt so comfortably familiar to her. He’d been going there on an off for a good two years if she had to calculate it. But there were so many faces that came and went, it was hard to tell. He, too, would leave at some point. Another lonely, lost man will take his seat and just like that, all over again, she’d have to become acquainted with another.

She took an empty glass, and chuckled as she raised it. “To drinking-”

“But you aren’t-”

“I can’t,” she said, placing it back down in its proper spot. She went back to drying the counter, swiping it left to right with a new rag, trying to be mindful of his arm. “Sorry,” she mumbled when it lightly braised his propped elbow.

Tommy Shelby lazily looked down at his elbow before fluttering his eyes upward. He always wore that sneaky little grin when he wasn’t completely serious. Unfortunately over the years, he had lost it along the way. Less to be amused about and more to be serious about, he assumed. But there, with her, almost alone in an empty pub, he wore it once more. The time was dwindling on the gray line of open and closed. But he showed no interest in leaving and she didn’t care. “Oh no, that was just unacceptable. You’ve done it this time.”

“Hmm, someone as witty as you, Mr. Shelby, I’d thought I would have received a better comeback. You’re slipping,” she said, matching his grin. They took a little pause, having a silent tango; eyes connecting, facial expression matching. When he wiggled his brows up in a quizzical look, she took no shame in mocking him. Neither a girl or woman in Birmingham would dare. But he found comfort in her antics. He wasn’t the Tommy Shelby, but just Tommy Shelby. It was the closest to pre-war Tommy he could get.

“I’m getting old,” he said, finishing off his glass. She was quick to turn for the whiskey bottle and top him off before he even asked. Tommy was mid stand, ready to leave when she made the silent gesture for him to stay. “I’m driving-”

“And I’m walking,” she said, quick. Once again, they stopped their mundane, routine acts to share a little stare and chuckle. “Plus, you didn’t seem like you were ready to leave. I spared you the awkwardness of saying goodbye.” When he objected, claiming that she must be tired and that home was calling, she told him, “you want to stay more than I have the urge to leave, Mr. Shelby. Plus, I’m curious about you in a way I can’t be curious about on the clock-”

“That’s dangerous,” he accused, sipping at the brown poor man’s liquor. She hung up the rag for the night and locked the door. He had to wait for her to wash her hands of work before she joined him on the chair next to him. “Knowing too much of me is like a curse, and you’re only young-”

“Not as young as you think,” she said, taking his glass and sipping it lightly. His look said I thought you don’t drink. “It was hardly a sip for taste. Besides, from all your mystery, perhaps I may need a few sips.” Tommy slid it back to her, allowing her to have the rest. “I’m twenty-”

He cut her off, leaning in, “I have you beat by a good fourteen years.” Tommy enjoyed the aged old compliment. You look good for your age, but she never gave it to him. Only took continual sips of liquor because she can’t drink. She giggled to herself. He cut her off before she could add the eight to her age.

Though after a while, she did say, “I heard thirty-four is the new twenty-two. But that isn’t actually what I meant by prying into your business. Hardly care about your logistics like age and birthday, Mr. Shelby. I want to know the fun stuff.” That made him laugh, but she wasn’t laughing. When he tried to protest, saying nothing about him was fun per se, her hand teased at his knee for a moment, lingering there casually. Tommy cocked a brow, mouth slightly agape. He slowly dropped his eyes, watching her fingers spread over his knee, finger tips pressing in. She was entranced by how she so casually came up on him, he hardly heard what she said. “Like what you use that gun for.”

It was a good minute or so before he answered, as her fingers inched up past his knee, resting more on his mid-thigh. “You shouldn’t really ask what a man uses his gun for, love,” he said, in a mere, barely audible whisper. His eyes never left her hand, watching, patiently waiting to see what her intent was. It was entirely possible she was just being friendly, he thought, never previously considering the pretty barmaid. The ring on his left hand banned him from that.

“Should I be worried you’re out shooting people and not targets?” she asked, leaning her head down to make him look at her. “Hmm?”

“Depending on who you ask, people can be targets, too,” he said, finding him doing something that he hadn’t done to anyone other than his wife in a long time. His arms found their way around her waist to pull her in from the chair she’d been sitting on. I’m not usually a lap lady, she said as he rested her over his lap. It was his turn to feel over her thigh and lay it to rest on the inner most part. Her arms loosely hung over his shoulders.

“That sounds like I should be sliding off your lap, Mr. Shelby,” she teased, eyes glancing to the hunk of dangerous metal strapped to his hip. “Isn’t it strange…being so close to something so lethal?” She dropped one hand to touch it but he was quick to grab her hand, his trust not being fully there with anyone. Startled, she turned her direction back to him. His fingers curled over hers, pressing with a warning. Her fingertips were turning slightly white. She opened her mouth to speak.

He stopped her, tone turning a bit forceful. “You didn’t ask. You want to touch my gun?” Her eyes went from flirty to startled to doe-like very quickly. She nodded and he let go of her hand to unstrap his gun and take it out. Her breath hitched as he raised it between their faces. Taunting her, his finger looped around the trigger, caressing it. She went to hold it over his hand, but he stopped her. “But you have to touch something else first-”

“Mr. Shelby,” she snorted, putting her hand down. “Thought you had more class than that. Aren’t you too old to be playing those boy games-”

Perhaps stupidly, he placed his gun on the counter, where she could easily reach it. Or maybe he was confident she wouldn’t. That he’d be good enough for her to be preoccupied with. “What boy games?” he teased, pulling her in more, making her legs rest over the sides of his so she was facing him. Taunting, teasing circles were rubbed on her back over her white blouse. He knew he was being childish in the last spot he could be childish. “Hm?” His fingers felt along her back traveling over her hips. Her breath was caught in her throat. It’d been quite sometime since a man laid their hands so intimately over her body expressing the need for her and solely her. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a boost in ego. Palms pressed against her stomach, he felt upward. Each little centimeter closer to her breasts, her fingers tensed. But he skipped over them, going for her arms instead. He knew what she was thinking. The disappointed rush of an exhale exposed all her secrets.

“You’re playing a game right now.” She pressed into him a bit harder feeling the tent in his trousers poke at her inner thigh. He chuckled as she told him things he already knew. Tommy Shelby was in no rush to go home. Besides, he needed to fuck off the drunken buzz in his head.

Their foreheads touched and he wasted no time, leaning in to trap her bottom lip between his teeth. He couldn’t kiss her. As bad is sounded, he wasn’t going to kiss another woman, but he was going to fuck her. Not just fuck her, but run his hands over her body, touching each and every crevice and space. “It’s been awhile,” he said, half apologetically in response as he pulled back. Her lips wore a reddened shade from where he bit. There was some sort of silent agreement where she understood it. She understood what it was. Her and him, pressed up against one another. It was a fuck and only a fuck, leaving traces of romantic intimacy at the door.

Impatiently, she bunched up her skirt, placing it over her knees. As she fumbled with the fabric, she asked him, “Are you going to be greedy then?” What an insulting thing to ask, he thought, but instead of answering her, he slipped his hand under her, pressing his palm against her cotton white panties. Challenging her, he cocked a brow as if to ask, do I seem the type? She lifted her hips a bit to give him some room to slip her underwear off to the side before sliding his hand over. “Mr. Shelby,” she gasped out in anticipation.

Smiling to himself, he felt over her wet folds with his two forefingers, before slipping beneath the outer folds. “Still Mr. Shelby, eh?” As if it was an order, she immediately responded with Tommy. Doing the same thing as she did to her breasts, he touched everywhere except where she wanted to be touched. It was amusing as she shifted and rolled around her hips, trying to take control of the situation she was never meant to have control of. His fingers lightly danced over the flesh around her clit and vagina, purposefully avoiding any hope. When she got a little too pushy, he pulled away, using the same hand to cradle her throat just tight enough to hold her in place. “Don’t be greedy,” he mocked with a stern tone, using her same lingo. He leaned in, lips hovering over her temple. Little ghost kisses haunting her desires. Pathetic, perhaps, but a tiny fear hung over her. What if he wasn’t going to fuck her was a nagging thought.

“Fuck me,” she said abruptly, not even sure how or why the words came out the way they did. “I need you to fuck me-”

“And I need you to be patient,” he said, palms finding their way back to her tummy going straight for her breasts barely contained by her buttoned blouse. A long string of moans sang from her lips as he cupped them over her clothing, squeezing decently hard. Nipples perked, he teased them in circles with his finger tips. “You asked me not to be greedy,” he teased, tongue flicking at her earlobe. “But I think you should take your advice, hm? Or do you think that doesn’t apply to you because you’re a woman, eh?” Stopping his groping, he started with the top button, painfully slow. One by one he undid them, allowing the cool pub air to touch her chest. Tommy didn’t even have the chance to slip it down her shoulders, feeling her goose bumped arms before she had torn it off and tossed it somewhere beside them.

“No,” she said, grinding down her hips, wet slick soiling his trousers. “I’m horny and you’re being an ass...I asked you to fuck me. Are you going to fuck me or are you going to leave me like this?” Amused by her assertiveness, he sat back and grinned. She mocked it. “It’s been awhile.”

“Really? A pretty girl like you working in a pub?” he challenged, not believing her. “Surely you have a twisted idea of time. What’s awhile? A month-”

“Two years,” she confused, fingers undoing his belt, cursing at the clasp. He didn’t believe her, but chose not to press the reasoning. In the grand scheme of shit, it didn’t matter. Instead, he helped her with his trousers, undoing his buttons and pulling down the zipper. “I got it,” she fussed, pushing his hand out of the way. Tommy watched as she pulled down his underwear just enough to let his cock out.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, scoping her up from under ass before positioning his cock. But he wouldn’t allow her to slam down. Gently, he teased at the entrance with his tip, saying, “just the tip.”

“You didn’t even finger me,” she teased back. “Selfish arse!”

“Maybe when I hit a target with my gun.”

“A still one?” she snorted, finding her way to leave playful bites along his jawline.

“A breathing one,” he said, and before she could react, slamming himself upward, balls hitting her backside. He held her there, studying her face. It was nothing, but a silent scream. A part of him felt a tinge of guilt that he hardly prepped the poor girl, but all her selfish antics made him a bit greedy. “You feel it? This is exactly what you begged for-”

“I said don’t be-”

“Greedy?” he teased, cupping her fragile cheek with one hand as his other teasingly rolled her nipple between his fingers. He rolled up his hips meeting her aching cervix. The pain radiated through her lower half, sending up a searing heat. She hissed, digging her fingernails into his sports coat covered arms. Too deep, she winced through her clenched teeth. “Yeah?” he asked, fake concern lingering, lightly jutting forward, pressing deeper just to watch the painful facial expression laid on her face. “You’re brat…I don’t like brats.”

“Mr. Shelby,” she whined, twitching around him. Pleading, she wanted him to ease. Which he obliged, and lifted her up a bit, pulling himself back. When she regained her composure, she took the wheel and rolled her hips into him; sliding up and down, attempting to slide her hand down to her throbbing clit, but he caught it.

“No, no,” he said, clasping her hand in his, keeping it there. She was about to complain, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh, just keep riding me…relax me. I’ve had a long day.” She nodded, resting her other hand on his shoulder for support as she raised her hips, a moan stuck in the back of her throat, feeling his thick cock sliding up and down her needy walls. He rested back, his breaths becoming ragged and hitched. She giggled when he rolled his head back, allowing her hand to slip from his grasp. But she was a good girl and didn’t dare touch her clit. She placed it on his other shoulder for support.

She circled her hips, watching his lip quiver stealing his grin. “Am I in charge, now?” she asked in a gasped, speeding up her pace, bouncing up and down. His eyes hazily watched her breasts follow along, taking one in each hand. He massaged them, fingers teasing at the nipples; pulling, pinching, flicking. It sent a perfect tingle down her spine. “Shit,” she gasped, leaning down, resting their foreheads together. It wasn’t supposed to be intimate. It’s just sex. But they kept eye contact, relaxing into each other's rhythms.

“I’ll play along,” he said, licking up at her lips, but when she went to kiss him, he turned his head. “Keep ridin’ me.” He demanded her in a bathless gasp, getting impatient. He wanted a quick release. She let out a needy cry, begging him why when he slipped his hands from her sensitive breasts down to her hips, gripping them tightly. His knuckles turned white as his fingers dug into her soft flesh. Hard enough she could have sworn she felt him touching her hip bone.

“Yes, sir,” she mocked, going faster; slamming down on him and enjoying the way his moans were deep and throaty. He jutted up, meeting her in her dips. Tommy’s thrusts got messy the faster they were. It was as if they were competing with who can go the fastest. No, who can wear the other one out first. It was her, of course. She wasn’t going to come from this and he selfishly knew that, enjoying the way her pussy felt around him. “Tommy!” She cried out, holding herself closer to his chest.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good,” he said, sliding his lips down her neck to bite at her shoulder, growling. “Shit.” It was muffled and low. Rudely, he repeatedly slammed into her cervix, hardly giving her time to breathe and ease it as he felt his climax approach.

She pulled her face away from him and gripped his jaw. “Not in me,” she warned.

“No?” he laughed in breaths. “Where do you want it, huh? Your tits? Belly? Your arse?” He gave her ass a generous squeeze before reaching up and tangling his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back slightly. He felt his climax near, slowing his thrusts just enough to slip from her cunt. “Fuck!” He cursed, tugging his cock one handedly. A deep red flushed over her cheeks as she felt a stream of hot cum spray up her back and drip down over her ass. “Shit,” he moaned, out, closing his eyes to catch his breath. “Fookin’ ‘ell.” She slumped against him, sweaty and hot, but he didn’t allow her to rest long, pushing her off. “I have to get goin’, love,” he said, patting her cheek.

“So you really are going to leave me like this?” she asked, referring to her lack of orgasm.

Tommy Shelby slid from his chair and fixed his trousers. “I told you, I hit a target and I’ll give the lady what she needs.” He winked, grabbing his gun from the counter.

She laughed as if he was being humorous. He hardly said good night as he left. He wasn’t a weekly regular, but perhaps bi-weekly. Every other week he’d come in for the same thing; a whiskey neat. But it was going on three weeks then sooner or later a whole season passed without Tommy Shelby. But it was normal. People came and went, and she cursed herself each time she became attached to one person’s presence.

However one night a few too many weeks later he came in as she was cleaning up. Through the reflection in a dark whiskey bottle, she saw him take a seat. A metal clink echoed the empty pub as he put down his gun. “We’re closed-”

“I’m not here for a drink,” he said.

“I’m closed,” she said, not forgiving his selfish quick shot.

He chuckled. “Say, love, do you prefer the feeling of a man's firm hand or soft tongue?” She froze, fingers knotting in the wet rag she used to clean the glasses. Swallowing, she turned to see the gun first then spots of red on his white shirt. Nervously, she looked up his arm to his face that wore specks of red. “Perhaps both at the same time-”

“Mr. Shelby-”

“C’mere,” he demanded, not asked. “And I’ll show you how much of a man of my word I am.”

#Tommy shelby #Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #smut #reader #fanfiction

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bagofshinyrocks · 9 months

Text

Matchy Matchy!

Prompt: For the Twelve Days of Christmas, you get Simon and yourself some matching presents. [Requested by @ertepla]

Featuring: Simon Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: profanity, slightly suggestive at the end

“How many presents do you get on the Twelfth Day of Christmas?”

“Twelve.”

“Nope.”

Simon fixed you with a withering look. He was elbow deep in a bubbly sink, with a smiley-face sponge in one hand, and the breakfast plates in the other. Not his scariest moment.

“What do you mean no?” He started muttering the words to the final stanza. “ ‘On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, twelve drummers drumming.’ Yeah, twelve.”

You put down the clean dish and rag. “Bubba, twelve drummers drumming, and… eleven pipers piping and all the others.”

Simon blinked. “Goddamnit.” The sponge splashed into the suds. “Is that what the song was sayin’ the whole damn time?”

You nodded and cupped his face in your hands.

“That’s so many fucking presents.”

“Seventy-eight on the last day. And a total of three hundred and sixty-four presents over the twelve days.”

His hands settled on your hips and tugged you closer. A loving, warm kiss. A quick swipe of his tongue against your lips. Then pulled away and settled his forehead against yours.

“Lovie, you are my everything. I love you so fuckin’ much. But, I’m not getting you more than three hundred gifts.”

You laugh and pulled him back for another kiss.

“Sweetie,” a kiss to his nose, both of his cheeks, and then his chin. “It’s just trivia. Something you can trick your buddies with tomorrow.”

He hummed, then smiled. “I’ll start with Johnny.”

“Poor Johnny.”

You would have liked for Simon to have a Christmas break and spend the season with you, but alas, that was not the case. He was deployed December 10th, and was supposed to be back a month and a half later.

He was very upset about it. You were disappointed, but he was straight pissed.

One hand settled in your jean pocket as he requested you walk with him as far as a civilian could go. Puppy dog eyes when saying goodbye. Lifting his balaclava just enough to kiss you goodbye. Then fucking glowering at everyone else on base.

Just because he wouldn’t get home till the middle of January didn’t mean you couldn’t celebrate Christmas. You would just do it a little later.

In Hallmark movie-fashion, Simon was permitted to go home on December 23rd. Likely from being such a royal pain in everyone’s asses.

So one day early, a big man was creeping through your house. Dropping his gear and uniform on his path from the front door to the bedroom, like a strip tease. That one of you would trip over and shatter your toes on.

According to Simon, you were snoring when he came in. You didn’t stir when he started the shower or when he rifled through the closet to find one pair of his sleep clothes that you hadn’t commandeered. His favorite hoodie had been placed on the biggest pillow, and you had drooled a decent puddle into it.

You finally woke up when he leaned up on you and wrapped himself around you like a weighted blanket.

“Happy Christmas, lovie.”

Incoherent grumble, then a little flail.

“It’s me, lovie. It’s your Simon.”

Less flailing, and instead you wiggled around till you were on your back and Simon’s head rested on your shoulder, pressing kisses against your cheek and neck.

“A good surprise, baby?”

A sleepy smile he more felt and heard than saw.

“Very good surprise, Si. I’m glad you’re here.”

One hand scratched his shower-damp scalp and the other scratched his back. Your hands were cold, but his back was a personal hand heater, and he was long since accustomed to the horrible ice-blocks you called your hands and feet.

“Go back to sleep, lovie. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

A sleepy hum. Your leg propped up and then flung itself over his legs. No sneaking off for him, not that he would be awake much longer. Or that, in the dark of the apartment, he had seen the pile of presents under the tree all addressed to him.

Instead of small children jumping on the bed to wake you up for presents (a day early), the cat crawled out of her special blankie on Simon’s side of the bed and decided it was time for breakfast.

The weakest link was home early, so she went straight to Simon. Standing on his back and sniffing him. Then smacking his head until he woke up.

The doormat untangled himself and tucked you back in. The victor leaped off the bed and pranced with her tail up like a flag to her food bowl. Simon was the moron who taught her that breakfast always came at 7AM, so he had to feed her when he was home. When it was just you, the meanest and worst parent, you fed her whenever you decided to wake up. But you also let her sleep in the bed, making a nest out of her special blankie and keeping her warm, whereas he would grab her around the middle and toss.

After feeding the cat, he started piling up his gear out of the walkway. And that’s when he saw the pile of presents.

Like twenty of them. With an array of wrapping papers and bags.

He tiptoed over and knelt in front of them, counting and checking the names. Half of them were for him, and each of his had a matching gift of the same size and wrap for you. According to the tags, all but one of his presents were from you, and all the rest were from the cat.

The cat then stepped on one of the presents, crinkling it loudly and thinking about clawing it. A quick movement of his arm and he had her by the middle and yoinked her into his chest. She looked around in bafflement and then meowed in protest.

Footsteps from the bedroom and you barked a “hey”.

Simon turned with a guilty face.

“Oh, not you baby,” you said, rubbing your face. “I thought the cat was getting into the presents again. I’ve already had to re-wrap things thanks to her Royal Snoopiness and her evil toesies.”

“Evil?” he kissed the cat on the head. “She’s a bomb-sniffing cat.”

“There are no bombs, Simon.” You flopped onto the couch and arranged the pillows to make another nest. “Just gifts. She wants her presents but she doesn’t get them until Christmas morning.”

Simon sat next to your legs and put the cat on your chest. Then leaned in real close and kissed you over her little head.

“Do I have to wait until I get back in January?”

You sat up and pulled him close, the cat leaping off and jumping to the top of her apartment complex. Your hands crept under the hem of his hoodie and pressed into the flaming heat of his back.

“No, baby, you can open them now.”

A kiss. Another kiss. Then he slunk back to the pile of presents and picked up the one the cat had tried to claw open a few minutes earlier. A final look to you, as if asking for permission. Then tore it open. He knew it was an item of clothing, or maybe a blanket. Once he read the front of the hoodie, he burst into laughter.

A skeleton cat holding up both its middle fingers, with ‘Best Cat Dad’ in print beneath it.

“All of the clothes and blankets in there have already been washed, so you can put it on now if you want.”

He hurled his sweatshirt at your head and immediately pulled the new one on. The cat came to investigate and sniffed his sleeves as he opened some of the others.

A new wristband for his watch. Another bottle of his (and your) favorite cologne. Then he grabbed a small gift bag that was very light. You recognized it and started giggling.

He balled the tissue paper and bounced it off your forehead. Then looked into the bag. A beat of silence. You bit your lip and dare not laugh.

He lifted the content between his thumb and forefinger and gave you an incredulous look.

“Are these fuckin’ ‘Hello Kitty’ knickers?”

An unattractive snort and you rolled off the couch.

“Please, Si. Please put them on. For me. It’s a matching set.” You army crawled towards him while wheezing with laughter. “We can match. Please. Please.”

He sling-shot your pair at you and stomped off with the Hello Kitty boxers in his grip. He was going to change in the bathroom. Just for you.

They were… comfortable. He had worn Calvin Klein before, usually when matching with you. But the little pink bows and the cute white cat right on top of his package was not a pattern he would have chosen. He pulled his sweatpants back on and walked out to you with a sigh.

“Alright, I’m wearing the-”

You were sitting on the couch, in your matching Hello Kitty set. Just your matching set. Brown eyes blinked. The two of you were equally surprised at the other. Then it finally clicked, and he jumped and started shucking off his clothes.

“Missed that memo, lovie. Bit slow this morning.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2023 Dec 23

#cod mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod fluff

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sweettofuki · 3 months

Text

Hoshina Soushirou | Coffee routine

Genre: Fluff Summary: y/n works at a cafe, one which Hoshina regulars at. Slowly, their brief conversations spark something deeper between them. warning: none a/n: When the reader gets shy or nervous, she smiles unconsciously. But she tries to hide it ><. Word count: 1.3k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

“y/n! There’s a customer in the front!” my coworker shouted from the back. “Got it!” you yelled back.

You walked out to the cashier and glanced up at the customer, biting back a smile. “Hi, welcome to The Velvet Cafe! What can I get for you?” “Just the usual please,” he smiled. “So one ice Americano with an extra espresso shot and a club sandwich. Total will be $12.47. I will just write your name down if that’s alright Mr. Hoshina?”

“Of course.”

The customer in question is your cafe's regular, the Vice-captain of the Third Division Defense Force. He comes in every morning at 7.30 am exactly, just before his work starts, since our cafe is the only one that opens early and is conveniently located near the Third Division’s headquarters. He’s one of the reasons why you take the morning shifts. (Ok he’s the only reason.)

“Please have a seat while I get your order,” you said. Hoshina nods slightly before turning around and sliding into one of the empty booths.

You placed his order on the counter but before you could call him, he already got up to collect his order, nodded slightly towards you as a thank you, and left promptly. That is how your usual morning routine plays out.

As soon as you could no longer visibly see him, you dropped your face into your hands. “I hope he didn’t notice that I was smiling like a damn idiot!” you mumbled. As if on cue your coworker walked out from the back, grinning smugly at you. “Soo how was it?” she said. “Shut it” you nudged her as she chuckled. “You sneaky little... you always making me take his order.”

“That’s because you need to talk to him! Bag him up!! I have been wanting a double date forever.” She sighed. You smacked her with a dish rag. “Even if I talked to him, it’s not like he would be interested in me! He probably has a girlfriend already with his looks.” you sighed. “How would you know that if you never shoot your shot.” she flicked your forehead. “OW!”

The next morning, Hoshina came in as usual. And as usual, you were (forced to) man the cashier.

"Alright, that's $12.47. If that's okay, I'll just write—"

"Soshiro," he cut you off.

You paused, your pen hovering before you could even start the second letter of his name.

"Um... excuse me? Mr—"

"Ya can call me Soushirou," he said, the ends of his lips curled up to a grin.

A pink hue creeps up your face. “O-okay Soshirou.” you stuttered nervously.

That was the most you had heard him talk. You hadn’t noticed his Kansai dialect before, or how smoothly it rolled off his tongue.

As you were busy berating yourself for stammering, you didn’t notice Hoshina studying your features. He chuckled “How cute..” He thought to himself.

As he approached to pick up his order, he glanced down at the crossed-out "H" and chuckled quietly. Turning to leave with his order, Hoshina paused before stepping out. Just as you were about to head to the back, you heard his voice, "Thank you, y/n!”

You froze for a moment before replying, “No problem Soshiro!" you waved goodbye to him, watching through the glass door as he raised his hand to mimic your gesture.

“HE KNOWS MY NAME SHIRA” “NO SHIT, ITS ON YOUR TAG-”

Over the next few days, this became our regular routine: at precisely 7:30 am, he comes in. You would prepare his order as usual, he would wait at his customary booth, collect his black coffee and sandwich, and leave in the same manner.

However, one morning Hoshina didn’t come in.

He didn’t come in the morning after too. Or for a week either.

Since then, you have been waiting for him, even waiting past your shift, watching the door for that purple bowl haircut. You stayed up all night since he disappeared. Unconsciously, you also switched on the news to find any recent kaiju attacks to explain his sudden disappearance. Thinking of all the outcomes the Vice-Captain could be in: Is he severely injured? Is he in a coma? Did he wake up one day sick of the coffee I make? Did the caffeine finally get to him?!

Ring Ring. The bell rang. You whipped your head at the sound to look at the clock. 7.30 AM! You burst through the doors ready to greet-

“Morning, y/n” Shira greeted as she yawned. “What’s with that pout? If you worry any longer, you’re gonna get wrinkles.” you turned around and sulked against the counter. “I swear to god Shira I’m gonna-”

Ring Ring

Behind Shira, another person entered.

Someone with bandages wrapped around his body under his clothes. Someone with bandages also wrapped around his purple bowl haircut.

Your eyes widened as you took in Hoshina’s figure.

At first glance, it’s not obvious. However, if you were to see him regularly, you’d notice how his eyebrows slightly furrowed more than usual with a slight hunch over one side.

You also noticed he had swapped out his usual loose overalls for a tight compression shirt with sweatpants. In contrast to his baggy overalls, his current laid-back outfit showed off years of trained muscles in his arms, shoulders, and back. Your eyes flickered back to his face, trying to keep your gaze above his neck.

So many questions filled your head.

“H-How are you, Mr Hos- Soushiou? We hadn’t seen you recently.” you finally managed to squeeze out after moments of just gawking at him. (casually)

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long! HAHAHA It has been quite the week. I apologized if ya had a loss in your sales.” Hoshina joked. Then he pointed both his index fingers out. “Don’t worry. I’m still alive.”

“H-how are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m alright. I just got banged up pretty badly by a recent Kaiju attack. Have you heard about Kaiju no. 9?”

You nodded.

“You should be in bed resting! What are you doing here so early in the morning?”

He chuckled. “My bad, It’s my body clock, 'M too used to the routine.” He said, smiling at me. "Besides..," he added while stepping closer, his eyes opening wide. "I miss seeing my favorite pretty barista.”

You stared into his eyes in a daze. “Did I hear him correctly?”

You coughed to cover it up. “Are you sure you’re not saying that just to get your coffee on the house today? Fighting kaiju doesn't earn you a free meal. You know capitalism and all.” You teased him back.

Hoshina let out a small laugh, tilting his head while holding his chin. “Well, is it working?”

You raised one of your eyebrows at him, before turning around to start on his order, trying to hold back a smile that didn’t go unnoticed by his scrutiny.

Once his order was ready, I walked over to his seated figure to hand it to him.

“P-Please take care of yourself Soushirou,” you said while looking down.

His stoic eyes glanced up at you, realizing he hadn't seen your face this closely before.

It was the first time he noticed how long your lashes were, or the softness of your lips, slightly swollen from unconsciously biting your lips whenever you're nervous. He took his order from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours, lingering for a moment as he spoke, “Thank you y/n. I will see you tomorrow.” He said, flashing a tooth grin.

As Hoshina was walking back to his office, he was about to take a sip of his coffee when he noticed a blue ink smudged against his thumb. He turned the cup around to find a message written that read, “Call me if u want to have coffee sometime. Not at the place I make it though. :>” with a phone number written below.

Fortunately for him, there was no one in sight to notice the tips of his ears turning red.

Meanwhile back at the cafe…

“Hey, why is the marker uncapped? I don't remember using it.” you asked.

Behind your back, you heard Shira stifle a giggle.

#kaiju no. 8 #hoshina soshiro x reader #god i love him #cafe au #hoshino

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eroselless · 4 months

Text

PATO - TWO

series masterlist | part 1 | part 3

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: angst, talk of pregnancy, Spanish

note: Part 2! I already feel extremely invested in this and I started new adhd meds so I've been able to rlly hone in and work hard on it :) Let me know how you guys are liking it!

SPAIN, DECEMBER 2022, 3 weeks later

1st trimester/7 weeks/2 months

You sit idly at the kitchen table, face pale and drawn from another bout of morning sickness. You fiddle with the loose threads of a doily that sit trapped under a large bowl of fruit in front of you. Despite the warmth of the sun and the stillness of the countryside, you struggle to adjust. The noisy streets of Monaco seemed to bring you comfort, a reminder of Charles and how eventually he’d come home to you. But that was all gone, replaced by the dulcet tones of the birds outside and the gentle breeze clinking the windchimes on your aunt’s porch.

Aunt Ines bustles around the kitchen, her movements brisk and efficient as she prepares a brebaje for you, a concoction to soothe your queasy gut. She places the mug in front of you and you recoil slightly at the smell. It wafts up, mingling with the scent of coffee and eggs.

“Tomatelo, que eso ayuda con las náuseas,” she says drink it, it’ll help with the nausea. You take the mug, hands trembling slightly. You take a big gulp, ignoring the slight burn the liquid leaves behind. Your hands tremble slightly as you put the cup back down on the table.

“Gracias, tía,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

Ines watches you, her gaze a mixture of concern and affection. She didn’t hesitate to pick up the phone when you called her that night on the train. Her heart ached for you as she watched how you would check your phone for a man who had let you go so easily. Your belly was growing a little every day but the life and joy in your eyes seemed to fade as each day passed.

“Linda, ¿por qué no vas por un pancito a la panaderia?” She asks Sweetie, why don’t you go get some bread from the bakery? You let out a groan and she can almost see your old self appear briefly as you sag in the chair, arms flopping down at your sides.

“I don’t feel like going out,” you protest weakly. She places her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“I know it’s hard, but you need to get out a little. Some fresh air will do you good. And besides, you can’t stay cooped up in this house forever.”

You sigh, mumbling a quiet bueno, okay as you get up from the table. Ines watches you pull your shoes on with a huff. She twists a rag in her hands, recalling how spirited you used to be. As you bid her a quick goodbye, she can’t help but shake her head as you check your phone one more time before tossing it on the table by the door. You were checking for Charles again.

You looked for him in the mirror every morning, in your sheets, in your dreams. She could hear you call out for him in your slumber. Or hear you cry in the early hours of the morning when you thought she was asleep. She could hear you talking to the baby, asking it questions, both love and anger pouring out in your words.

Charles’s silence seemed to weigh heavy on your conscience. Was all the love shared in the two years you spent together just gone? Picked up by the wind and dropped into the ocean, sinking down to its dark depths?

Ines would try her best to distract you from Charles and focus on the baby, gifting you a hand-knitted blanket and yellow booties. Each item was made with love and care, trying to remind you that you had love at your fingertips, in herself and the little bundle growing within you.

You make your way to the bakery, the morning air cool against your skin. You can’t help but wonder what Charles might be doing. Were you occupying his thoughts as he was occupying yours? Maybe he was waiting on his phone, waiting for your call as you waited for his every day. You get pulled from your thoughts as a little boy skids in front of you, you let out a yelp as he scurries after a red toy car.

“Disculpa, señora!” He exclaims as he chases after it Sorry, lady! You watch him as he wanders off, finally catching it. Another boy, older, follows after him. You both watch as the little one, maybe 3 years old, flicks at the tires of the car, laughing as they spin. He beams up at the older boy and they smile at each other, conversing and giggling as they continue their way down the street. You smile as they walk away from your eyeline, a sad, bittersweet smile.

The streets are lined with charming little buildings, bustling with kids and adults alike. You can soon smell the yeasty scent of bread trailing down the street. You breathe deeply as you reach the doors of the bakery, greeted by warmth and the delicious smell of freshly baked goods. Walking through the threshold of the bakery, a kindly old man smiles at you as you enter.

“Buenos dias, señorita,” he says. “What can I get for you today?” You manage a small smile. “A loaf of your freshest bread please.”

He nods and disappears into the kitchen. You pull out some coins, moving to lean against a table that stands off to one side. You try settling in the warmth of the cozy bakery, trying to draw some comfort from the soft glow of warm lighting and the inviting scent of cinnamon and sugar. You close your eyes for a second, hand resting on your tummy. It's grown since the night on the train. If you pulled your shirt tightly against your body, you’d be able to see it starting to poke out. You wonder what the baby will look like. Would she look like you? Or would she inherit the features of her father? Would it even be a she? Or would it be a little boy, the image of his father?

The baker calls for you, pulling you out of your brief daze and hands you the loaf wrapped in brown paper. You hand him the money and thank him before heading back home.

Your walk back is easier, your mind occupied with thoughts of the baby. You cradle the warm bread against your chest, eyes flickering to its crispy outside. You’ll carry the baby like this someday.

Back at the house, Ines is waiting for you. She leans on the doorway, a smile on her face. She takes the bread from you, walking into the kitchen.

“No tan mal,¿cierto?” She teases lightly Not that bad, right? You nod, feeling lighter.

Putting the bread down, she pulls you into her arms.

She feels her chest fill with relief as you relax into her embrace, face tucked into the crook of her neck. You hold onto her, feeling the love that surrounds you. For the first time in the last couple of weeks, you don’t feel as if the world is fighting with all its might against you. You let out a smile. This time a little wider than before.

A WEEK LATER

Laughter seems to bounce off the walls of the small home. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, a bag of carrots in your lap. You bite into one, handing another to your aunt as she chops them up and tosses them into a pot full of celery and potatoes.

“Do you remember when Jorge used to feed the dog his bottle?” Ines chuckles, shaking her head. Her children are older than you, occupied with their own families in different corners of the world. “He was so terribly convinced that the dog needed it more than he did.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “And Mateo used to put his toys in the fridge! Mom would always find action figures next to the milk and cheese.”

Ines laughs again, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “Esos peladitos, always keeping us on our toes.” Those little guys.

You laugh at her comment, hopping off the counter as you hear your phone buzz on the kitchen table. Ines chastizes you as you do so, telling you you shouldn’t be jumping around like that. You shake your head, a smile still playing on your face. You brush your hands on your pants, not caring for the slight orange residue they leave behind, and reach for your phone.

The laughter seems to fade from the room, the joyful noise dying in your chest. You blink a few times, words on the screen not fully registering in your mind. A headline stares back at you, the words blurring as tears fill your eyes.

You stare at your phone for a moment before tossing it carelessly onto the table and running out the front door. Your aunt looks back at you from her spot at the sink.

“Mi amor,” she calls for you, moving quickly to follow after you. “¿que paso?” what happened? You don’t answer, heaving as you stop at the edge of the property. The world seems to spin around you and you try to catch your breath. Your chest feels tight and the air only seems to get hotter as you stand there. You want to scream. Inside, Ines watches you with confusion, wiping her hands on a rag before picking up the phone with the screen still on. Her heart fills with dread as she reads:

Prince of Ferrari, Charles Leclerc seems to have parted ways with his illusive girlfriend after being spotted with new mystery woman in a Monaco restaurant. Who is his ex-girlfriend and why did the F1 star break up with her?

She swipes at the screen, eyes scanning over the pictures attached to the headline. Charles sits at a table, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He’s leaning into the woman, noses almost touching as he leans in for a kiss. There’s a smile painted on his face, his arm draped around her shoulders. The pictures show him gradually getting closer until his lips are pressed to hers.

She presses a hand to her mouth as she puts the phone down, making sure to swipe the page away before making her way out to you. You’re sobbing, with your head in your hands. Your shoulders shaking with such force, Ines thinks you could heave.

“Lo siento mucho, mi amor,” she consoles as she nears you I’m so sorry, my love. She pulls you into her chest, her own tears dripping down her face as your body wracks against hers. Her hands rub soothing circles on your back.

The pain feels unbearable, a mix of betrayal and heartbreak. The man you love, the father of your child, moving on without a second thought. You think of the nights you cried for him, the mornings you searched for his presence. It felt like a cruel joke.

“Casi ni siquiera ha pasado un mes,” you manage to choke out between sobs. “Y asi como nada.” It's barely even been a month, and just like that.

Ines pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. She brushes away the hair that’s begun to stick to your cheeks. Your eyes look beautiful as they drip with immense sadness. There was so much beauty in your tragedy.

“We’ll get through this,” she whispers firmly. “One step at a time.”

You nod, taking a small comfort in her words. They don’t do much to ease the crushing weight in your chest. Any hope you had for a future with Charles crumbles before you, replaced with an uncertain reality. You sink into her arms and let yourself release a sob, clutching tight to your middle. You whisper a quiet apology to the little bump, tears only streaming harder down your face.

“I’m here,” Ines says softly, her voice steady. “And I’ll always be here. We’ll get through this together.” She holds you tight, her love wrapping around you like a warm blanket, offering the only solace you can find as the world seems to crash around you.

.˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚.

The weeks pass slowly and you find yourself sitting on the porch day after day. It's almost like that one scene in Twilight but in the warm and bright climate of Spain. Your morning sickness dwindles, some days better than others. It's yet another crisp morning that you find yourself sitting there, enjoying the sound of the windchimes and birds once again. Ines pokes her head out the door, peering at you.

“Linda, te puedo pedir un favorcito?” she asks, her face in a little grimace sweetie, can I ask a little favour from you? You look up, nodding your head silently. She lets out a sly smile.

“I’m running low on a few things for dinner tonight and I can’t go to the market with all the chores I need to finish.” she winces. You know what’s coming and you relent, getting up to grab a grocery bag.

“Thank you, mija,” she says, pressing a kiss to you head. “I just need some tomatoes and carrots and maybe a loaf of bread.” you nod fervently at her request, not stopping the shadow of a smile that appears on your face as she hobbles away to grab a pen and paper. With now a list in hand, you step out into the bright morning light.

The market is just a short walk away, and as you make your way through the quaint streets, you try to focus on the task at hand, pushing any thoughts of Charles to the back of your mind.

The market is alive with activity, vendors calling out their wares, and the air filled with the mingling scents of fresh produce and baked goods. You wander from stall to stall, selecting ripe tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and fragrant herbs, your basket slowly filling with the ingredients Ines needs.

As you reach for a bundle of carrots, you hear a voice call from behind you. You turn, eyes widening as you see Carlos approaching you, arms wide and a smile playing on his face.

“Es tan lindo verte,” he says, eyes crinkling with a warm smile it’s so nice to see you. He pulls you in close arms wrapping around you completely. You relax a little, finding comfort in seeing a familiar face. A mixture of emotions hits you as he holds you. His presence is a reminder of the world you left behind, a reminder of the love you lost.

“Hola, Carlos,” you reply, managing a soft smile. He lets go, eyes looking over you.

“You look… different,” he observes. His face is full of concern as he looks you over closely. Your smile fades as he does. Your bump is sticking out a little more as you enter your second trimester. Your shirt is taught against your tummy, fabric being pulled back slightly as he lets his arms drop. The growing babe causes your belly button to slowly start to poke out. “Yeah,” you murmur, tugging your shirt loose. “I guess I’ve been going through some changes.”

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as he reaches for your small belly, stopping abruptly before his fingers make contact with it. “Are you…?” he trails off, his voice filled with surprise.

You nod, and Carlos can’t tell if your expression is of pride or shame. He nods sympathetically. He’d heard about what happened with Charles, whispers spreading quickly through the paddock as the news broke. But not this, no one had mentioned this. “Charles doesn’t know, he doesn’t need to,” you explain, eyes pleading with him.

He nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Lo siento mucho,” he says, reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder I’m so sorry. Though Charles didn’t share you much with the world, you did occasion a race every now and then, mostly hidden away from the cameras. When he saw Charles step out on town with someone else, he suspected something had happened.

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Yeah,” you whisper. His hand lingers its spot, sending a strange sense of comfort to wash over you. Despite the pain you’d been carrying with you for the last few weeks, the genuine kindness he was offering you seemed to alleviate it a little.

"Listen," Carlos begins, his voice gentle. "I know things are tough right now, but if you ever need someone to talk to or just a shoulder to lean on, I'm here for you."

His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself blinking back tears. "Thank you, Carlos," you whisper, feeling a swell of gratitude in your chest.

He offers you a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Anytime," he says softly. "Cuidate, okay?” Take care of yourself, okay?

With a final nod, Carlos bids you farewell, leaving you standing there in the bustling market square.

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader

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mysicklove · 1 year

Text

Pairings: Drunk! Bachira x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Just a silly little fic where reader has to take care of her lovely, very intoxicated (and horny) bf

A/N: Very self-indulgent. I had a lot of fun writing this, even if its a little pointless and I have little ppl reading my bllk stuff

Bachira is a lightweight. Sure the muscles he gained from the years of soccer helped him just a little, but other than that, after three drinks he is a goner. Some nights he cries about everything he sees, others he's laughing till he physically can't anymore. You'll never know what you'll get, but either way, he has to be watched 24/7.

And of course, his friends like to use this against him. In a couple of days it is his birthday, so the boys took him out drinking to celebrate. You didn't mind, it's not like your boyfriend would ever do anything too bad while intoxicated. Besides, you threatened Isagi enough to watch over him.

Of course, the knocking on your apartment door did not sound like a good sign. Nor Isagis slightly slurred, "Y/N! Open up!"

You sigh, and stand up from your spot on the couch to hear Kunigamis gruff, "Dude be nice!"

"Please open up?"

"We are at Y/Ns house? Woaahhhhh!"

You open the door to see Kunigami, Isagi, and of course your boyfriend. He is being held up by the two, his head lolled to the side and a lazy grin on his face.

You raise your eyebrows at Isagi in particular. He knew how easily Bachira gets drunk. "Really?"

"Hey don't look at me! Kunigami was the one who gave him shots!"

Your mouth flies open and you turn to the orange-haired man. "You gave him shots? Are in insane? He gets tipsy off a sip of alcohol!"

"Y/NNNNN," Bachira whines, trying to wave at you from the hands on the two's shoulders. You half-heartedly wave back, looking back to the other two for an explanation.

Kunigami leans forward to get a look at Isagi. "How was I know he was a lightweight?"

Isagi points a thumb at you. "He was crying about how he missed her after two drinks!"

Before Kunigami could argue, Bachira tries to reach out for you, and goes toppling forward. All three of you guys catch him, your hand on his chest to try and steady him. "You caught me!" He giggles to you, smiling as his forehead bumps yours.

"Yeah no, we caught you. Y/N, do you think you can handle him?" Isagi says glancing at you, hoping you aren't too mad.

You sigh, and manage to wrap an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head onto your shoulder, trying to get as close to you as possible. He was so clingy when drunk. "Yeah yeah. I'm fine. He isn't too heavy."

The boys both sigh in relief and help pass him on to you. You turn around and wave them goodbye. They nod and apologize before you shut the door. You hear Kunigami mumble something about how this trip was sobering him up.

"Let's get you to clean up and to bed, hmm?" You sigh, rubbing his hair affectionately and beginning to drag him to the bathroom. It was harder than you thought, considering he was basically putting all his weight on you, and cuddling up to you.

"I had fun tonight!"

"Yeah?" You respond, maneuvering him to sit on the closed toilet seat. He nods his head, it's slow and wobbly, but cute.

"But I—But then I was like.....Like where is Y/N? I miss Y/N." Both of his hands are planted in between his slightly spread legs, and he's swaying from side to side. "And they were getting mad at me!"

An amused smile pulls at your face as you open the cupboard and pull out a soft light blue headband. "What did they say?" You say, placing the headband over his face, and then back up again to remove his bangs from his face.

He touches the headband, while his eyebrows slightly furrow. "Hmmmm...They said—Oh! They said I was being dramatic! And I was soooooo confused. Because I am not dramatic, Isagi is the dramatic one!"

You bark a small laugh as you use a wet rag to damp his face with water. "I like your laugh," He mumbles, head falling forward onto your stomach. You prop him back up and he pouts at you but doesn't say anything.

You grab the face wash and foam it up, before turning back to him and spreading it on his face. He blinks up at you and smiles at the proximinity. "You are so pretty, Y/N"

"Thanks, Meguru. Can you close your eyes for me? I don't want to get soap in them." He obeys with a hum and begins to sway again, but this time it seems more purposeful as if he was just happy to be there.

'Y'know, I think I like you. Like really really really like you," He chirps, leaning into your touch, and allowing his face to get massaged by the soap.

You laugh at him, a grin plastered on your face. "Weird...Cause I happen to really really really like you too." His eyes fly open with his smile. "Close them."

"Oooooh so demanding. I like that too."

You ignore him, instead grabbing the washcloth and beginning to remove the soap from his face. "So I was thinking....." He opens his eyes when he feels you dab at his forehead.

You can tell he is looking at you to prompt him. "Yeah?"

"Wellllllllll, I think tonight. Well actually! And tomorrow and after tomorrow and the day after—"

"Meguru," You warn, cutting off his ramblings.

He giggles at you. "We should have sex!"

You pull off his headband and set it back away, trying to fight back the smile. "You are a horny drunk. It's not happening tonight, that's for sure."

He lets out a loud dramatic whine and stands up, wobbling over to you. "But whyyyyy. It's my birthday! And I am not drunk!"

You watch him stumble over his feet and raise an eyebrow. Before he could fall you grab at his side and lead him back down to the toilet. You hand him a glass of water. "Drink."

He takes a couple gulps of water under your watchful gaze, before cringing from the lack of air, and slamming it back on the counter. He immediately goes back to the conversation before. "Whyyyyyy. But I like—No love you! This is what people who are dating do!"

"Because you are drunk. Your breath smells like straight alcohol. And your birthday is not for another two days, egoist."

"I am going to brush my teeth. And then—You!" He jabs a finger in your face. "Will meet me!" Finger flips around to point at himself. "In the bed in five minutes. Where we!" He rotates the finger back and forth between the two of you. "Will make love."

You nod at him, patting his head in a teasing way. "Lets work on the first task. And I will think about it."

He seems to like this answer, eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"Sure," You say, knowing its definitely not happening. You grab his toothbrush and lather it with toothpaste.

"Oh my—I just remembered something."

"Hmm?" You mumble, putting water on the bristles.

"I got hit on at the bar!" He giggles, looking up at you with a grin.

You narrow your eyes and cock your head to the side. It's not like you were worried about it, but still, it was not something to hear about it. "She said—Wait. What did she say? Oh! Oh! She said I was "totes adorbs" Isn't that funny, Y/N? She was a foreigner!"

You didn't think it was too funny. You hand him the toothbrush, but he doesn't take notice to it, still immersed in the story. "But hey! Guess what."

"What?"

"I said I was married. And coming back home to my wife. My wife as in you! You are my wife. Er-um, pretend wife, who will be my real wife soon!" He rambles on, leaning forward toward you to hopefully coax out some approval.

You indulge him, smiling at him. "Good job, my pretend husband," You tease, ruffling up his hair gently. "Now, brush your teeth."

He nods, plunging the toothbrush into his mouth and getting to work. You lead him to the sink and he spits it out and turns to you with approval. You nod at him, and he gives himself a thumbs up in the mirror.

ust when you are about to lead him out of the bathroom, you watch a frown begin to form. Not a good sign. The waterworks were coming. "I missed you so much," He whines gripping onto your shirt, as tears begin to prick at his eyes.

"Wow, Meguru. You really are drunk. C'mon, let's get you to bed," You sigh, hoisting him up and helping him toward the bedroom.

He sniffles at you, leaning into your neck. "Did you not miss me?"

"I missed you desperately," You tease, smiling at him and wiping away the dramatic crocodile tears.

He seems to like this answer, nodding to himself. "Good. Cause I missed you."

"I know, love."

"A lot. I was so so sad." You cover your mouth to hold back the laugh. You didn't want to encourage him even more or make him cry again. "But don't worry! I am happy again!"

"I'm glad." You say as you begin to undress him.

"Woah. Woah. Woah. You said—You said! We weren't doing it tonight. But look at you." You glance up at him in amusement and then tug his sleep shirt on. Once he realizes it, he pouts and looks away.

Then you pull up the covers for him and lead him into bed. He more like trips into the sheets, but you throw a pillow on him, not worried about it.

Finally, you get on your side and tuck yourself in next to him. "Goodnight Meguru, let's hope the hangover isn't too bad."

"I really want to have sex," He turns to you, blinking at you in the dark.

You sigh, pushing a pillow in front of his face. "Maybe tomorrow, you drunk. Goodnight Meguru."

He groans one last time, and you hear him mumble, "Worst birthday gift ever." into the pillow. He falls asleep in less than thirty seconds.

#mello.writes #bachira x reader #bachira x you #bachira meguru #x reader #reader insert #bllk bachira #bachira fluff #meguru bachira x reader #bllk x reader #bachira meguru x reader #fem reader #fem! reader #bachira fanfic #meguru fluff #bllk fluff #bllk x you

678 notes · View notes

mtchacffinz · 2 years

Text

—and the love bug strikes!

prompt!!! "Just one kiss, please?" Me when I lie 🤭

content!!! NSFW, needy!reader, dom!Al Haitham, office fuck, slight dumbification, domestic, sweet talk, established relationship (married), soft and rough(?) sorry honey i don't have a scale for this one

note!!! kaf here once again! i seem to love writing for this man a lot. expect more of him from me soon ~ he's so lovellyyyy and hott, and lovely and hot and super lovely and h

You listen to his light breaths, the rise and fall of his chest is enough to calm you down. After four months of work that he's appointed Acting Grand Sage, he's been extra busier than usual. Although the man works efficiently, he still has scribe duties to attend to; and by the time that's done, he sees that his other job is stacked.

Fortunately, after a little convincing, he allowed you to sit on his lap until he finishes one report. Just one. Just for the sake of you and your clinginess. To be fair, four months? It has been four months since he hasn't done anything but duty work because of this artifact archiving project! For his temporary solution, you are to hold him for as long as Al Haitham allows you to.

Al Haitham has always been a man of stoicism. If it's something that's unnecessary for his work, he skips it. If it disrupts peace of mind, he puts it away. If something is hindering his progress, the scribe will undoubtedly push it out of his way.

He almost never goes home. When he does, it's either to grab a few relics and artifacts that's essential to his current progress. All your husband gives you is a quick peck on your lips and he waves goodbye once again.

Atleast.. that was supposed to happen.

It started with a small kiss, but all of the sudden Al Haitham's breathing was ragged as you once again take him into your lips— hungry, roughly, and rigid. Your tongues danced and swirled into a rhythm-less pattern seemingly incoherent. It was like an instinct on play, desperately trying to relish and prolong the warmth you've oh so waited to finally devour.

Al Haitham's hand supports your figure, a firm grip on the small of your back. He allows every crevice of his mouth explored, neck absolutely violated by hungry, yet delicate kisses enamoured by yours truly, alone.

Alas in but a few moments— he pulls back from you leaving you wanting for more. Voice barely above a whisper, he tells you that you need to breathe. Take it easy, and breathe. Eyes hazy, you're surprised by the sudden haste you've displayed when you nodded meekly.

He lay his forehead on your own when a moment of silence was shared between you two. He feels your breaths turn softer and softer before he finally speaks once again, only to get cut off.

"I want you right now, you know?" You say slowly, and he doesn't interrupt— only giving you a slight smug look as if he's won something. He dips his head back to your lips but it's much more calmer this time. Al Haitham's pecks and kisses were tender and warm— and it somehow enchants you more to speak out.

"I miss you, you know?" barely letting it out as a mumble, he stilll grasps your words. You latch your arms onto his neck for support when he targets your neck, emitting small mewls from your throat. "It was so lonely. Your bed was always empty."

"I know."

He offers hums and hushed words. His velvet voice strumming each and every one of your nerves ro relax. Al Haitham's comforting words threatened the tears in the corner of your eyes to betray you, but alas you let them. They fall from your eyes hurriedly— yet he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he kisses your tears away, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Strong arms quickly pick you up from his lap proping your figure on the table. He took the liberty of discreetly organizing the files away because he knew this would inevitably happen sooner or later. It was you, after all. Al Haitham's tongue was all over your chest with his hands trailing all kinds of intentions in your body. No skin left unloved, his firm grip on you was apparent.

"W-Wait. Your documents—"

"You don't get to think about that right now." He softly taps your forehead, cheeks flushed with soft rose hues. "All I want to know is how you've been." You don't respond. It was a question he already knows the answer, but his voice is so so gentle and soft you take his lips back to yours.

"I'm fine now."

"'Now'? So you weren't fine before?"

"Don't tease me, Al Haitham.."

Al Haitham hums. Oh well, now you have to finish what youve started, right? Al Haitham traces circles on your thighs, seemingly thinking about something. Before you could ask what's on his mind, he tugs on your undergarments, those royally gem imbedded eyes of his trail back towards yours with a glint of mischief.

"Take them off."

For what it was worth, it certainly looks like he wasn't the only one holding back. The grey haired man firmly held you in your place making the most out of what's in between your legs. He traces circles, he sucks on your sensitive numb like his life depended on it. Al Haitham would trace the curve of your back when you arch for him when he hits that sweet spot that never fails to elicit a strong electrifying reaction out of you.

The Scribe diligently works his way through your folds, glistening with both his spit and your juices. Once you start holding onti him tight, he slows down and resumes again. God, he loves seeing your face contort from anticipation of your orgasm to a puzzled scrunch.

"Cumming.. cum- cummin—g..!! Ahn, aahgg! please—"

"Ah, ah. Eyes here." He leaves your pussy hanging, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your cute face is so flushed from the stimulation it's taking every inch of his being to pull down his pants and fuck your face right then and there. You hands attempt to entangle in his hair, but he pushes you away. "Don't hug me. I want to see your face."

You could only whimper back. He was so mean when you're clingy. Although he never means it in any way repulsive, his tongue is adept in such filthy language that gets your cunt throbbing. Al Haitham dips his face into your lips, his tongue exploring every crevice of it like it's his fucking birthright. Those slender fingers if his creep up on your heat, inserting his middle finger while his thumb rest on your clit.

Al Haitham's breath hitches. "Fuck, you're so wet.." before you could respond, he shuts you up by kissing you deep again. "I love you. I love you.." your husband repeats to you like a matra as his fingers rut themselves into your sopping pussy. You don't know whether or not he's telling that to you, or your cunt but you're not complaining either way. You were too sensitive to think straight, but you're not too lost to not reciprocate his words. Although your words are a little broken, you managed to let out a few strings of affirmations yourself. "—Haithaam... i love you, my Haitham...♡".

You could feel Al Haitham's breath hitch in your neck.

"My Haitham. My Haitha— fuck. I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum I'mgonnacumm...!!" His fingers' pace starts to pick up that your legs were barely even getting a hold of themselves— trembling just by how playful he is playing with your cunt. Al Haitham breaks eye contact, nuzzling into your neck. His breaths ragged and hair disheveled from all the hair pulling you've been doing. He relishes in your scent and speaks.

"I'm listening.." mumbling, hinting for you to go on. He's always loved it when you're fucked dumb. When you ramble what you usually don't say in public. When you tell him your deepest desires just for his ears only, looking at the way your face scrunches up under him.

"I want your cock deep in my pussy haithaamm...♡ I want it kissing the deepest part, Haitham. Please? Pretty please? Please pleasepleasepleas—" You whimper like a pathetic slut. Your nails dig deep into his arm when his tongue starts lapping up in your neck. "I deserve it, I do. You know I do, right? I d—unnggff..!!" Whatever it was to come out of your mouth died in your throat as your whole body spiked up in his arms, your climax washing over you.

Your husband pumps a few more thrusts helping you ride out your orgasm, planting tender kisses on your collarbones.

You could feel hot breath on your neck, hitting your flushed cheeks. Al Haitham's right hand rest on your waist, subtly guiding the plush of your ass to his erection. His free hand clasps yours, thumb brushing your knuckles. Chaste pecks all around the nape of your neck, from this view.. it really does tempt him to bite and mark you down right now.

"Ah.. ah. I'm a little sensitive.."

"It's okay for you to back down." He softly mumbles. "Do you need to go?" He says, concern laced in his tone. You were a little more conscious of his hands on your waist, as it grips you tighter. You shake your head no.

There's no way you would back down. Not when you could feel his painfully erect cock behind your back. You expected him to ask another question in his gentle voice, but was met with a surprise of change in demeanor instead.

"Then bend over."

"I HAVE NO TIME FOR PLEASANTRIES SHOW ME YOUR WIENERRRRR" i know y'all r only here for the smut.. horny fuckers. Feed my brainrot so i could write more for you horny fuckers. My requests are open (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)♡

#genshin impact #(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)mtchaskz #al haitham #al haitham x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact alhaitham #genshin impact al haitham #al haitham smut #al haytham #al haitam x reader

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Expect The Unexpected - Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: Kol saves you from a creep and it leads somewhere you never expected

Words: 3k

Warning; creepy stalker; think that's it

Notes: Had to write some Kol but I will be writing more Joel and Tommy Miller tomorrow x

Y/N’s POV

I step out of the restaurant, having said my goodbyes to Caroline and Elena, wanting to just get home and collapse into bed as my social batteries are on zero. It’s late and the streets are deserted except for a few people walking their dogs or heading home from the bars as it is Friday night. It’s a beautiful night with a full moon illuminating the sky and I can’t help but enjoy the quietness of it all as I begin the walk home.

Footsteps can be heard behind me but when I turn there’s no one there. I think being around vampires a lot I’m starting to go insane as they’re always sneaking up on me, making me paranoid all the time as Damon loves to scare the shit out of me. The footsteps are getting louder and an uneasy feeling settles in my chest. This isn’t any of the vampires I know. No, when I glance over my shoulder my heart skips a beat in fear as there’s a man in a hoodie walking a few feet behind me. He’s staring at me with a creepy smile, eyes intense on mine like he’s undressing me with his gaze and I start to feel a little sick. I could yell for any of my supernatural friends knowing they’re hear me and be here in seconds but that feels like I’m weak, being human and all that.

I shake my head and continue walking, heart pounding in my chest, as of course this shit happens to me. Not wanting to admit defeat and call I remember the short alleyway nearby that would take me to Stefan and Damon’s, much closer than mine so I hurry my pace. The footsteps behind me seem to get even louder, like he’s right behind me and my uneasiness turns to fear as I turn left down the alleyway, hoping to lose him in the maze of building. My luck isn’t that good as I glance behind me again see him still following, leering and I can hear his breath, ragged and heavy, like he’s running. Fuck’s sake! I break into a sprint, my feet pounding the pavement, my breath coming in short gasps and as much as I’m used to running for my life I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this pace up with him not too far behind me.

That’s when I collide with something solid and familiar, strong hands flying to my shoulders to steady me. The scent of something earthy mixed with spice and leather and something sweeter like cinnamon has me relaxing and the panicked tears begin slipping down my cheeks, knowing I’m safe.

“Hey lovely, what’s wrong?” That familiar British accent asks and I’m finally looking up to see Kol, his concerned face mere inches from me. The proximity has my breath hitching despite how scared and panicked I feel, words catching in my throat as I gesture behind me to where the creep is still visible and still making his way closer. Kol’s face hardens as he realises what’s happening and he steps in front of me, “He’s not going to touch you love. Look away please.”

I’m doing as he says, closing my eyes and feeling a familiar gust of wind as Kol uses his vampire speed. There’s the sound of a neck snapping, unmistakable in its finality, and then Kol’s hands are on my face, his voice soft, “You’re safe now.” I open my eyes, my back to the body and Kol’s gaze is gentle and protective, his thumbs caressing my cheeks as his cognac eyes scan me over as if checking for any injuries and finding none. I try to thank him but my voice is still too shaky so I do the next best thing, surging forwards and wrapping my arms around the original vampire, catching him off guard.

Kol’s arms eventually wrap around me in return, strong and secure and I feel so safe in his embrace. His chest is firm against mine and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to feel a heartbeat under my ear. I’m burying my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent of earthy spice and leather and I can feel a sense of calm wash over me. His embrace is warm and protective, like he’s shielding me against the word and I know something about the way I feel for him has changed. He’s no longer the wild Mikaelson who keeps trying to kill Matt and has caused Elena and Jeremy so many problems. No, he’s something more to me as I cling onto him, not wanting to let go as he hand strokes my hair soothingly and he’s whispering, “Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.”

Reluctantly I’m letting him go, suddenly feeling empty and the cold hits me despite my thick jeans and fluffy sweater. A small gasp leaving me when Kol places his leather jacket over my shoulders and he’s flashing me a somewhat shy smile before he holds his arm out for me like a true gentleman. I take his arm, feeling a flutter in my chest as we start the walk back to mine, his jacket warm and comforting around me. The night air is chilly but Kol’s presence makes it bearable, his steps confident and sure as we navigate through the dark streets. I’m stealing glances at him from time to time, admiring the way his features are chiselled and sharp in the moonlight, his eyes are like pools of molten gold.

We’re arriving at my door too soon and I feel a sense of disappointment, not wanting him to leave me but I’m too awkward and shy to say it outright so I just let his arm go so I can fumble for my keys, Kol’s eyes on me the whole time and watching my every move as I swing my door open. I’m turning back to face him, the words slipping from my lips in a scared whisper, barely audible, “Don’t leave me.”

His vampire hearing don’t miss a syllable as he’s taking a step closer, hand coming up to cup my face as he speaks softly, “I won’t leave you, love.” There’s something in the way he says it and the way those eyes flit across my face, lingering on my lips for a second or two longer than normal that has my heart fluttering and the soft smirk on his face lets me know he hears it. It’s a little unnerving seeing this soft and gentle side of Kol as he’s usually ruthless and manipulative but there’s nothing but genuine concern in his gaze as he speaks again, “Why don’t I stay the night?”

“Please.” It comes out breathy and I swear his eyes darken a little, sending my heart fluttering crazily in my chest, his hand not having left my face yet. Neither of us seem to want to move apart enough to go inside despite the chill that’s seeping its way past Kol’s jacket.

That playful smirk slips onto his face as he leans in, warm breath ghosting over my cheek as he whispers, “Don’t worry love. I’ll keep you warm.” And with that he’s taking my hand and going to step inside when he seems to hit a barrier. Oh! Vampires can’t enter without being invited in but I’m giggling too much to be able to welcome him in, the way he stands with his hands on his hips and eyebrows raised with an amused look on his face as he waits. It takes a moment or two to compose myself enough to invite him, gesturing for him to enter as I say, “Come on in Kol.”

He strides in with easy confidence, eyes flickering around the room as he takes in his surroundings. I follow him, feeling a strange mix of excitement and apprehension as this is the first time a vampire has been inside my house and I don’t really know what to expect as I’ve always gone to their places. But this Is Kol, it feels different somehow. He’s not like any other vampire I know. I’ve heard stories of how ruthless and selfish Kol can be but it’s a little hard to picture it while he’s moving around my living room, taking it all in with an innocent curiosity. I can’t help the twinge of nervousness as I hang up his jacket and toe my shoes off by the front door after closing it behind us.

“Are you tired sweetheart?” Kol’s asking, eyes softer in the light of small lamp by the sofa. I’m shaking my head, trying to shake off the nerves as I move to sit on my sofa, patting the spot next to me which he takes without a question, turning his body towards me, “You’re nervous?”

“I’ve heard so much about you and…” I take a deep breath, Kol not saying a word to let me finish talking but I can see the way his face falls a little, expecting me to say something bad, so I reach over and cup his face in my hand. His stubble grazing my palm as I speak, “But I’m not sure I believe it all.”

He’s shifting closer, face suddenly very close to mine as he asks, “You don’t?” His face is so open and innocent the air leaves my lungs and I’m shaking my head, caressing his cheek softly as I marvel at how soft his skin is below my hand, “Do you trust me?”

“Y-yes.” My voice is breathy whisper and his hands are gripping the back of my thighs, pulling me onto his lap in smooth movement. My heart races as I straddle him, but I’m not sure it actually has stopped racing since he found me, his eyes never leaving mine as he pulls me closer, lips hovering just inches from mine. He lets out a barely there ‘good’, breath warm against my skin before he’s closing the distance between us, lips meeting mine in a soft and tender kiss that has shivers running down my spine. It’s like electricity between us, the way our bodies press together, his arms holding me close as we explore each other’s lips. I’m lost in the moment, all my fears and worries melting away as Kol’s lips move expertly against mine, hands roaming over my back under my sweater.

I take a risk and run my tongue against his bottom lip, feeling him smile into the kiss but he’s parting his lips for me. My fingers find their way into his hair, pulling him closer and hearing him moaning softly as our tongues fight for dominance. His hands are slipping lower, cupping my backside and pulling my hips flush against his so I can feel how hard he is beneath me and the a thrill of excitement rushes through me but I’m having to break the kiss.

Kol’s shifting our weight, laying me back on the couch and leaning over me. He’s kissing me breathless again, lips soft yet demanding and the gentle drag of his fingertips down my sides under my sweater has arousal pooling between my legs. I don’t want this to end but he’s pulling away too soon, eyes intense as he takes me in, leaning on his elbows and hand brushing over my cheek lovingly.

“As much as I want to do this, I want to do right by you love.” He says, voice low and husky, “I don’t wan to take advantage of you lovely, we should head to bed and we can talk everything through in the morning.” His words both reassuring and disappointing but I know he’s right. I’m nodding, leaning into his touch and kissing his palm before letting him climb off of me and help me to my feet so I can lead the way to the bedroom. He’s tugging on my arm lightly, “I can sleep on the couch-“ I’m gripping the front of his shirt and yanking him into another kiss, silencing his stupidity and feeling him smile into it as he reciprocates before we’re parting. His arms still wrapped around me, “Okay then lead the way love.” Kol nods, tone lace with a hint of mischief as she squeezes my arse.

I can’t help but laugh as I lead him to the bedroom, feeling a warmth spread through me at the thought of having Kol in my bed. I’m quick to kick my jeans off and slip into a loose teeshirt with my back to Kol while I slip out of my bra before I’m practically diving into the bed. The original vampire knows exactly what he’s doing when he takes his time with every layer of clothing.

As he unbuttons his shirt, I’m mesmerised by the muscles in his chest and arms, wondering what every dip and ridge would feel like under my tongue. The fabric of his shirt slides off his shoulders to reveal the smooth skin of his back and my fingers are itching to tee the contours of his muscles and I notice the freckles dotted over his back. Then he’s hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and slides them down his hips, showing a tantalising silver of skin. My eyes drink in the sight of his toned legs and the way his boxers cling to his hips. When he turns to face me I can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight of his chiselled abs and defied chest.

Kol catches my gaze and smirks, clearly aware of the effects he’s having on me and I can feel my face flush as he crawls into the bed with me. His lips finding my neck and he’s biting a hickey just below my jaw, drawing a soft sound from me before he’s kissing the slight sting better then pulling us down. I let him manhandle me so we’re cuddling closely. His warm skin against mine as he wraps an arm around my waist and nuzzles into my hair. The feel of his body against mine is intoxicating and I can feel my heart rate picking up as I snuggle closer to him, content with laying here with him and feeling his fingers trace lazy patterns over my skin until I’m drifting off.

I’m awoken by the bedroom door flying open and Caroline’s familiar voice breaks through the haze of sleep as I groggily open my eyes to see her standing in the bedroom doorway, eyes bugging out of her head as she exclaims, “Kol?! Why the hell is Kol in your bed?” Her voice laced with disbelief and annoyance. I know it’s not annoyance towards me personally, she’s just having a bad time with her feelings for Klaus now so I guess seeing me with Klaus’ younger brother isn’t helping her case.

Before I can even respond Kol is groaning softly, moving so he’s wrapping his arms around my waist and nose nuzzling against the skin of the back of my neck as a pillow is aimed in Caroline’s direction, “Piss off Caroline.”

She looks angry, that familiar and well known Caroline glare slipping onto her face and I can hear her heels clicking on the floor before the duvet is yanked off of us as she snap, “No. Up, now.” I’m groaning as the cool air hits my skin and I can feel Kol shifting behind me, grumbling something incoherent under his breath. Caroline is still standing there, arms crossed over her chest as he taps her foot impatiently and I can feel the tension I the room as Kol reluctantly detangles himself from me and drags himself into a sitting position.

“Can you give us a damn minute. Close the bedroom door and Y/N will be out in a moment.” Kol steels her with a glare which Caroline rivals before her eyes flit to me when I place a gentle hand on her arm. She’s hesitating until I send her a reassuring smile, silently thanking her for looking out for me but also silently begging her to leave us alone. She lets out a small huff, glancing between me and Kol before turning on her heels and leaving the room but not without letting the bedroom door slam behind her as she goes to wait in the living room.

Kol is flopping back down, hands finding their way to my hips to pull me onto his lap so I’m straddling before those oh so gentle hands trail up my sides until he’s cupping my cheeks, thumb rubbing across my bottom lip softly as he asks, “You don’t regret this?”

“Oh hell no.” I chuckle softly before leaning down and kissing him, gasping when he rolls us over so I’m under his strong body, one of his hands splayed on my thigh as he guides me to wrap that leg wrap around his waist as he deeps the kiss. It’s not fuelled by lust or passion, just sweet and loving, each movement of our lips and the way our tongues dance together a declaration of our feels for each other. Kol’s hands trail up my sides, caressing every inch of skin as he pours all his emotions into the kiss until we have to pull back. I think any oxygen left in my lungs leaves me when I meet his gaze, so much love in his eyes. I know the future is uncertain and that there are definitely going to be obstacles in our way but I don’t care for any of that. As long as Kol keeps looking at me the way he is, I would walk through fire for him.

“Barbie awaits, love. I should let you go talk to her before she stakes me.”

“Yes! Yes I will!”

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

Vampire Diaries Universe Masterlist

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impala-dreamer · 3 months

Text

Legendary & Momentary

A Supernatural Story

~Two strangers meet again; two memories collide. Will things be different this time? Will there be more to their story or just a long overdue kiss goodbye?~

Dean x Reader, Sam, OMC

5,356 Words

NSFW. Show-Level Violence and Blood. Intimate Relations. Angst. Bittersweet Romance.

This fills "The Night They Met" square on @jacklesversebingo, and "First Time" on my Dreamer Bingo... hope you enjoy

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The bell chimed above the old red door and Y/N looked up from the counter.

She was filthy and tired. Her apron was covered in the greasy remnants from the lunch rush and her jeans were stained by a spilled cup of lukewarm coffee that she never got to drink. She pressed the tip of her pen to Mr. Taylor’s check and tried to finish calculating the tax when she saw him.

He walked through the door like no time had passed.

His hair was still stuck up in that familiar way that made it seem like he ran his hand through it constantly. His jeans were still ripped even though they fit a little bit tighter. The leather jacket was gone and his face held a few more lines than she remembered, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was him.

Dean Winchester.

Her breath caught and the pen moved across the thin green paper all on its own, leaving behind a smudged blue line.

“Shit!”

He didn’t look over, didn’t see her staring in awe.

Quickly, she tallied up the total and ripped the paper free. Mr. Taylor was still working on his tenth cup of coffee and she tucked the bill beneath the stainless steel creamer cup.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said with a distracted smile.

Dean scanned the small diner and paused on her face. He smiled passively and pointed to a booth by the window.

Startled and a little hurt by the lack of recognition in his eyes, Y/N simply nodded.

“Be- uh-” She cleared her throat and took a breath. “Be right there!”

Dean waved a hand her way as he slid into the long bench seat. “Take your time, Sweetheart.” The vinyl crackled and the springs creaked beneath him as he settled in the middle and set his elbows on the table. He clasped his hands as if in prayer and pressed his forehead to his knuckles.

Y/N tried not to stare but it was hard to blink, hard to move, hard to do anything but gawk at the man she’d once loved.

OK, maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something legendary.

At least to her.

She was freezing and terrified; lost to the daylight and trapped in some unholy hell. The rough ropes around her wrists were too tight, ripping at her delicate skin each time she dared to move. The turn of her shoulders was harsh. It kept her arms locked behind the back of the hard wooden chair and it was enough to send pins down to her fingers, numbing everything from joint to tip. The beer-soaked rag jammed into her mouth made it hard to breathe, scream, or even stay conscious.

Only four hours had passed but it felt like twenty.

Two other girls had gone before her, ripped from their seats by hungry hands and blood-stained lips that dragged them off into the shadows of the empty building. She didn’t know where they went, only that they didn’t return. Their screams echoed until they failed, fading from pained, wordless pleas to the pale final moans before death.

She was the only one left.

She chewed on the rag, pushed at it with her tired tongue, and shook her head furiously, trying anything to get free. The cursed fabric mocked her like a stripped screw, moving only enough to give her hope and no more.

She kicked at the floor, pushing down as hard and tipping the chair. She braced herself as best she could, tensing her body inwards as the cold, filthy concrete floor accepted her left side. Her head bounced off the stone and bright lights popped like camera flashes around the edges of her vision. She felt her stomach turn with pain and then there was nothing. The cold wrapped itself around her and the shadows drew in close, swallowing her whole.

Time passed around her but Y/N was out cold. She dreamt of the bar, of that stupid jerk who’d caught her eye and danced so close. Of the smell of his cologne, of the drugs he’d tipped into her drink. She felt his lips again, sliding from her mouth to her cheek and down, lingering over her pulse to suck a painful little mark on her throat. She felt his hand on her cheek, holding her hostage to his lust.

Another hand hit her cheek, tapping gently, and Y/N blinked into the darkness, focusing finally on a pair of unbelievable green eyes. They reminded her of a thriving forest of deep evergreens lit by the golden rays of sunrise. She smiled.

“Good. You’re alive.”

The eyes came with a face that pulled back a few inches and captivated her addled mind. Freckles. Lashes. Crooked nose. Plump lips.

She shook her head. “What?”

“You gotta get up.”

Y/N’s gaze narrowed. “Who are you?”

A half smile, a tiny laugh. “I’m Dean.” He lifted her head, gently cradling the wound on her temple. He leaned in, glancing at each of her eyes, gauging the damage. “Can you tell me your name?”

She nodded and swallowed, clearing her throat. “Y/N.”

Dean smiled again. “Good. Nice to meet you.”

In a flash, she was sitting up again as he placed the chair back on four legs. Her bones rattled as wood hit concrete and her vision wavered.

“What’s going on- who are you?” she said again, not remembering his name or finding it a suitable response.

Nimble fingers worked on the knot at her wrist. “My name’s Dean Winchester.” When the ropes fell, he rushed around to help her up, extending a big hand. “And I’m here to rescue you.”

He beamed with pride and she laughed softly.

“You’ve always wanted to say that, haven’t you?”

Dean bit his lip and shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

Her hand slipped into his palm and warmth ran up her arm, filling her with a sense of safety she couldn’t fully understand.

“I guess not.”

“Can you stand?” he asked, closing his fingers. They were so long they nearly eclipsed her entire hand.

Y/N drew herself up and took a steadying breath. “I think so.”

Something fell in the distance. Metal crashed. Glass shattered. A deep roar filled the air, growing louder by the second.

“Good,” Dean said, gripping her tighter. “Because now we gotta run.”

Sam waltzed in like he owned the place, his long hair whipping in the wind he created when he threw the door open.

With a cocky nod at the waitress, he threw himself onto the dull red vinyl across from Dean and slapped his hand on the table, startling his brother.

“You sleeping?”

Dean sneered and dropped his hands into his lap. “No. I’m thinking.”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Ya know-” Dean bit his tongue and shook his head, refusing to get into it. He was road-weary and exhausted, ready for a burger and a bed and nothing more. “Whatever. What did you find out?”

“Well…” Sam pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and swiped a finger across the screen. “Did some digging at the rectory and Father-”

“The where?”

Dean grinned like an idiot and Sam rolled his eyes.

“The rectory.”

Clearing his throat in subtle reprimand, Sam carried on, expounding upon the history of some priest who had died in the town in 19-something-or-other. Dean couldn’t pay attention. The waitress behind the counter had caught his eye and his brain was working in overdrive. There was something about her that was pulling him in. Something familiar and slightly painful that he couldn’t put his finger on.

She was pretty. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, her face was dabbed with what he hoped was flour, and she wore a tight navy tee that showed off curves that could drive any soul mad. There was a softness to her that broke his heart, a kindness that lit her energy. When she smiled, he could tell that it wasn’t real, wasn’t completely true. She knew things that other people didn’t, things that would invoke Lovecraftian nightmares in most, and yet, she kept herself busy in a diner in a little town in the middle of nowhere. He could see it in her eyes. It was a look you couldn’t lose once you knew the truth about the world.

It was a look he knew all too well. One that he saw in the mirror every morning.

She turned toward him with two plastic-covered menus under her arm and a pot of coffee in hand.

When their eyes met she froze. Dean could see her take a deep breath and he stared as her face etched itself in his memory banks.

His heart ached.

Y/N.

He couldn’t believe it. After all these years, there she was- just as beautiful, just as soft and enticing. He bit down hard into his bottom lip and let the film in his mind play.

“Where are we going?” Y/N was panting; desperate to keep up but exhausted from her torturous night. Dried blood caked her throat and fresh release bubbled like a thick ooze on the side of her head. Her skin was paling; her eyes were blurry.

Her hand felt so small against his and he squeezed it hard, refusing to let go. Twice, she’d stumbled next to him, and twice, Dean had scooped her up, unwilling to lose another victim to his own weakness and the monsters of the world.

Dean stopped for a moment and looked around. They were in a labyrinth of rooms deep inside a derelict factory with little light to guide them and no way to remember every twist and turn as they ran through.

“Uh… out,” he said, unsure but afraid to say so.

Y/N tugged on his hand and made him look at her. “Out?”

“Yeah. Out. We’re getting out of here!” His brow creased and his lips fell into a straight line. He was worried.

She shivered. “How?”

He looked around again, forgetting which way they had come from. “I… I don’t know yet.”

“Great.” Frustrated and close to passing out again, Y/N dropped his hand and spun around. “What is happening?”

Dean winced. He could hear the breakdown in her voice. That moment everyone went through when they figured out the worst day of their life was about to get way worse. He sighed and watched her spin out, sad for her but unable to do much until she worked through it.

“I go out for a few drinks and-” She closed her eyes tight as the night washed over her. “That guy- he fucking-” Her hands flew to her head. “He must have drugged me and then… he was…” Her right hand slid down to her throat, gingerly dabbing at the two tiny holes below her jaw. She pulled back and looked down at the flakes of blood that clung to her fingertips. “He-”

Dean watched her shoulders tense, her breath quicken. She shook her head.

“No. No. No fucking way. That’s not possible! It’s not- he wasn’t-”

He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, waiting patiently.

“Go on,” he urged gently.

“And the others- the redhead and the bartender they-”

“Mhm…” Dean shook his head slowly. He had found their bodies a few moments before stumbling upon Y/N.

“They’re dead.” Y/N grabbed her stomach as if she might puke. “They’re dead because-”

“Almost there…”

“Because that guy…”

Dean leaned in, slightly amused by the gears he imagined turning in her head. “Was a…”

Y/N’s frame went limp and her soul seemed to drop. “Vampire.”

Dean snapped his fingers. “There it is. Good job.” He moved forward to take her hand once more but Y/N flinched away.

“No! This cannot be happening!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry but it is. That guy from the bar is a bloodsucking asshole and he’s coming to finish you off. That is, if you don’t let me get you outta here.” Again, he reached for her hand, and this time she let him have it, squeezing tight.

She gaped up at him. “A vampire.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes went wide as she stared off over his shoulder. “A vampire.”

Dean sighed. “I know this is hard to deal with but-”

Y/N yanked his arm hard and tugged him closer, frantically pointing with the other hand. “No! A vampire. Behind you!”

The moment stretched out between them like contrails, visible but nothing, there then gone, fading into the atmosphere.

Y/N stared into the green eyes that so often haunted her dreams. Those eyes she saw when nightmares overtook her evenings or when she turned her mind back to lovers past. The eyes she spent too long praying would sweep over her face just one more time.

Her cheeks burned. Her heart skipped a beat and then another until a pain in her chest made her take a deep breath.

He recognized her. She knew it in the way his lips parted slightly with surprise, the way he blinked a few too many times to clear his vision lest she be a phantom.

She smiled softly and he returned it, dipping down so he could look up through impossibly thick lashes and break her heart all over again.

Dean swung and the vampire ducked, springing back up to swat at Dean as if he were an irritating insect and nothing more.

The way he spun around was impressive. Y/N stared in awe as Dean turned on his heel and pulled a long blade from beneath his leather jacket. It was like watching an action movie. The slow-motion was in her head, but the sound effects were real and so was the machete.

“You murdered my husband!” the man yelled, his deep voice bellowing through the empty room.

Dean looked up from the ground and touched the back of his hand to the corner of his mouth, dabbing at the cut and fresh crimson leaking free. “Husband, huh?” He laughed and rolled to his knees. “Didn’t think this town had much of a gay scene.”

The vampire sneered, revealing a mouth of vicious teeth. He growled and Dean popped up onto his boots, charging forward again.

Y/N felt as if her feet were glued to the cement, encased in fear and indecision.

She should run, that much she knew, but something held her there. Something told her that running was pointless. If she was going down, she’d go with a fight.

When Dean next hit the floor, the vampire turned his gaze upon Y/N and her stomach flipped. Her feet magically moved and she rushed forward as if puppeted by some Hollywood stuntman. She landed a punch, but it was mocked by a deep, blood-thick laugh and a return that knocked her to her knees.

“Y/N! Just run!” Dean was valiant, coming up behind the monster with tight fists and a shining blade.

“I’m not leaving you!” she yelled back. She meant it, but the justification was blurry. She didn’t know him, didn’t really owe him anything. What was keeping her from running away like a spring doe being stalked by a hunter?

In the brief moment when Dean looked at her, the upper hand was lost. The sweet smirk was knocked off of his freckled face and he hit the floor in a painful crash of flesh and denim.

Moved by some fateful force, the machete slid across the floor and landed at Y/N’s feet.

Her eyes narrowed on Dean who could barely lift his head as cartoon birds circled in his vision. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lifted the blade, holding it tight. Her knuckles turned white with the force and she reared back, ready to strike.

From the ground, Dean watched her attack. “Neck! Go for the neck!”

Feeling a step away from superhero status, Y/N swung with all the force left in her body. She closed her eyes as the sharp edge found its target and nearly retched when it slid through flesh.

The vampire roared in annoyance rather than pain. Y/N peeked an eye open to discover that the machete had made contact, but not much more, only penetrating about an inch into the vampire’s neck. She grimaced and yanked the handle, pulling the blade free.

Blood shot from the wound and Y/N gagged at the garnet fountain.

“I’m sorry!” she screamed, not sure to whom. If the vampire wasn’t pissed enough already, he was sure to rip her to shreds now.

As the fiend stumbled, Dean regained his wind and appeared at Y/N’s side.

“Takes a bit more force than you might think,” he said with a reassuring wink as he took the blade from her hand. “Gotta put your whole ass into it.”

Y/N hung back and stared while Dean demonstrated.

The vampire’s head rolled free from its pedestal and landed at her feet just like the machete had.

She swallowed hard. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Dean stood over the collapsed corpse and wiped the blade on his jeans. “Yeah, but you learned something.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, in shock and exhausted. “That the world is fucked.”

“Mhm.” Dean grinned and hopped over the body to stand by her side. “And what else?”

“Never half-ass a beheading?”

“Yep!” His wink was breathtaking. Even covered in blood and bruised, he was stunningly handsome and Y/N held her breath for a long moment.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Take me home before I lose my mind…”

He couldn’t help but stare. It was almost unbelievable that she was there. After a decade, how was it that they randomly found each other again? Had she always been here, waiting tables and waiting on him? Did some turn of fate drag them together again?

Y/N exhaled gently and Dean sucked it in, breathing in the sweet air around her: coffee and french fries, and a hint of apple shampoo.

Time slowed down for them both and caught in its warm embrace, there was no other vision but the gentle smile on her lips, no other sound but the sigh she let loose.

Sam broke the trance, clearing his throat and starting the clock again. The earth seemed to lurch forward and Dean felt a pit in his stomach.

“Um, yeah, hi.” Sam looked up at Y/N, trying to remain kind but annoyed to be interrupted.

Y/N jumped back into herself and set the menus down unceremoniously. “Hi.”

Her eyes never left Dean and Sam wasn’t thrilled. He rolled his eyes and turned over the ceramic coffee cup next to the napkin holder before tapping the edge.

“Coffee. Please?”

Dean wanted to kick him, to castrate his rude brother with a switch shot under the table, but he held back, content to get lost in the memory of her.

“Sure.” She shook herself and smiled at Sam. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to stand in the hall, Dean,” she said with a small laugh.

Y/N ripped her keys from the apartment door and stepped inside. The lamps on either side of a lumpy purple couch were on and the small living area was bright. She sighed, happy to be home, and then gestured for Dean to enter.

He nodded with a smile and ducked his head as he stepped in, as if unsure of the height of the ceiling.

“Someone else home?”

She squinted in confusion. “No?”

“Ah. You left the lights on,” he observed, pointing at the lamps. They didn’t match and the shades were dusty, but it added to the effect, casting a soft light on a room full of hometown memories and highschool dreams lost long ago.

Y/N toed her shoes off and shrugged. “I keep them on so the bad guys think I’m home. Guess I should have realized that bad guys are outside too, huh?” Her focus faded as she spoke and her fingers pressed into the wound at her neck. “Is- is this all real?”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“How do I- you- I mean… how am I supposed to deal with this?”

Green eyes swept her pretty face. He felt sad for her, but knew she’d be able to handle it. She was strong. Not strong enough to gank a vamp, but not bad enough for a first try.

“Well,” he said, pursing his lips to hide a sly smile. “I drink…”

Y/N smiled. “That I can do.”

She fetched too cold, brown bottles from the tiny fridge. Dean popped the caps free with a flick of his ring and Y/N stared at him in wonder. He was a mess. His jacket was too big, his jeans were ripped and falling down. Blood was smeared on his face and his hands were filthy. Still, he was cute. More than cute, if she was being honest, and she felt her face heat up whenever he looked at her for longer than a fleeting second.

He cleared his throat. “Here’s to not being dead.”

Dean raised his bottle and she tapped hers against it.

“Here, here.”

The necklace around his neck was twisted, and Y/N reached up to fix it, gently turning the cord until the knot was back in place against the nape of his neck. Her fingertips brushed through the short hairs on his neck and Dean sucked in a deep breath of her.

“Apples,” he whispered, startling her.

Y/N blinked up at him. “What?”

“You uh-” He looked away, feeling shy, knowing his cheeks were red. “You smell like apples.”

“That’s my shampoo,” she explained, dragging her hand down his shoulders and across, making sure the small, bronze pendant was centered. “I’m surprised you can smell it, I’m covered in muck.”

“The blood just adds to it,” he teased.

Her palm pressed against his heart and Dean wondered if she could feel it pounding away inside. He wanted to reach for her, to push his hand through her hair and drag her close, kiss away the trauma of the night, and lay her down.

Y/N felt it too, that undeniable urge to press up on her toes and lick deep into his mouth, but nerves pulled her away.

She let out a hard breath and backed away.

“I should shower,” she said, turning away and shattering the moment.

Dean shifted on his feet and looked over his shoulder at the door. “Yeah, I should probably get going…”

“No!” Y/N gasped at her aggressive tone and laughed. “I mean, just- don’t? You can, um… shower after me. I’ll be quick. I just- I…” She looked down at her feet and bit her lip, innocent and alluring all at once. “I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

His heart ached. “OK. Yeah. I uh, I’ll stay.”

He should have run. Should have dropped her off and left. Why did he have to walk her to the door? Why did he have to step inside? Why didn’t he kiss her?

Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Dean.”

Y/N knew she was breathing heavily but she couldn’t control it. She tried to hold it as she filled the small white mug. The steam and her shaking hand made it hard to keep from spilling, but amazingly, she got through.

Dean was staring, she could feel it.

Was he going to say anything? Did she have to be the one?

Maybe he doesn’t remember. Maybe she got something wrong.

When she looked back, the green told her everything she needed to know.

Y/N took a long sip of her beer. “Honestly, if you traveled back in time to tell twelve-year-old me that vampires were real, she would have been ecstatic.”

Thirty minutes later, the entire room smelled like apples and they sat on the ugly purple couch together, clean and damp from the hot shower.

“And now?”

“Not so much.”

Dean laughed and drained his bottle. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but somehow, the more you know, the worst it gets.”

Y/N considered his words and took her last sip. “So this is your life? You run around saving damsels in distress and killing bloodsuckers like Buffy?”

“Buffy? No. I could kick Buffy’s ass.”

Y/N laughed. “Yeah, right…”

She leaned forward and took his bottle, placing it with hers on the coffee table. The big shirt she wore gaped at the neck and Dean tried his best not to look, only sneaking a quick peek.

He adjusted his own collar, tugging it away from his throat. Either he wasn’t breathing too well or the cotton was shrinking. “Thanks for the clothes by the way.”

Y/N sat back. “Of course. Couldn’t have you running around naked.”

His mouth went dry.

“They’re my brother’s, if you’re wondering.” She leaned back and hugged her arms around her chest. “There’s no… guy or anything.”

He had been wondering and now his thoughts ran amuck. “Ah. Cool.”

“And you? You got a girl back home… wherever home is?”

Dean smiled sadly and shook his head. Where the hell was home? “Nope. No girls. Just me…”

“That’s too bad…”

Her voice trailed off at the end in a sweet whisper that had him leaning a bit closer. The ends of the couch were too far apart, driving them both mad.

Y/N shivered suddenly and quickly rubbed the back of her arms.

“Cold?”

Dean’s voice was lush with concern and she smiled shyly.

“A little…”

He opened his arms and she scooted across the cushions to settle against him. He was warm and solid; so gentle when he reached his left arm over her shoulder. His fingers hovered as if afraid to land before gingerly falling to cover her arm.

She sucked in a breath at the touch and Dean stiffened.

“Is that OK?”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

His grip tightened; his breath calmed.

Y/N curled into him and laid her hand on his chest. It was intimate and delicate but Dean didn’t flinch. He closed his eyes and turned into her, resting his chin atop her head. Warmth and shampoo filled his senses and he sighed, content for the first time in a long time.

There were no screeching tires or screaming victims; no geysers of blood, no singed flesh.

It was peaceful. It was incredible.

Her fingers curled, bunched up the fabric of the plain white t covering him. She cuddled closer, needing him to take all the pain and fear away, wanting him to know how much she wanted him.

“You saved my life today,” she said softly as her nails danced across the dip in his clavicle.

Dean’s brain clouded with desire and he exhaled through puckered lips, trying to stay calm.

“That’s my job.”

“Another hour and I’d be dead.”

His arm tensed on her shoulder, drawing her even closer. “I don’t wanna think about that.”

She looked up at him, pretty eyes dimmed with arousal. “Me either.”

Heart pounding, he took a chance and dipped down to kiss her lips. It was slow and soft, dangerously electric. His right hand found her cheek; his thumb brushed over her lashes.

“Is this OK?” he asked, still somehow unsure even as she kissed him back.

Her breath swept across his plump bottom lip. “Yes.”

She tugged at his shirt again and parted her lips, dragging in a deep breath of him. He kissed her a second time and her eyes fluttered as sparks ran down her spine. He sucked at her lip, licked deep inside, whispered her name like a prayer.

Y/N against him and he lost his mind, shifting in his seat to push her back and loom over her. His hand trailed down her side and across her belly before slowly moving upwards. He pressed the flat of his palm against her breast and Y/N arched up into it.

“This OK?”

She laughed inside a moan and nodded. “Yeah…”

His fingers closed and she melted.

“Fuck…”

Dean kissed across her jaw, blew a hot breath over the outer shell of her ear. She tugged at his shoulders, dug her nails into his smooth skin, held her breath as he plucked at her nipple.

She was dizzy on his kisses, drunk on the heat between them. When he slid his hand to her thigh she sucked in a quick breath that gave him pause.

“Is this OK?” he asked again.

Gently laughed at his nerves, Y/N grabbed his wrist and pressed his fingers against her damp panties. “Yes.”

He rubbed a firm circle over her covered pussy. “And this?”

She spread her legs and nodded. “Yes.”

Through the thin cotton, he pressed his middle finger against her hole. “This?”

She shuddered. “Fuck. Yes!”

“What about-”

She stopped him cold, sitting up to grab his neck and pull his lips back to hers.

“What about you fuck me, Dean.” She licked at his mouth and his eyes glazed over with desire. “Is that OK?”

Dumbstruck, he nodded blankly.

“Good.”

She winked and his fate was sealed.

His mind was reeling but his lips were failing him. Say something, you idiot!

He couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink lest she was a phantom and he had finally lost his mind.

They hung there in silence as the eons stretched out around them. It wasn’t slow motion, it was worse. Time had stopped entirely. There was only the two of them, existing in a void of remembrance and hope.

Exhausted and sated, they lay on the floor, catching their breaths and fighting sleep.

Y/N tugged a crocheted blanket off the arm of the couch and fanned it out to cover them both. Dean bent his arm and tucked the throw pillow under his head.

Y/N snuggled her back into his side and Dean draped his right arm over the perfect curve of her waist.

Her hand covered his; their fingers fit together like the gears of a watch.

A watch that he’d have to check soon.

As if she could sense their time running out, Y/N squeezed his arm tight around her and sighed.

“Stay? Just for the night?”

He swallowed down all the usual lies; pushed away his father’s condemning voice calling him back.

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss into her hair and bent his knees behind hers. “For the night.”

A yawn shook her and Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed. She smiled and wiggled against him, safe and happy, at least for a moment.

“We should get some breakfast later,” she sang, half in the arms of sleep. “I’m starving.”

Dean closed his eyes and wished he could stay.

Y/N’s breathing slowed and Dean laid awake, focusing on each rise and fall of her chest. He looked around the small room and wondered if he could ever really stay. Was there a chance here? A chance with her? Some magical new life waiting for him if he just took a leap of faith? Could she be the place he could finally call home?

No. It could never be. She wasn’t some ethereal beauty sent by God to tempt him away from his life. She was just a distraction. A beautiful, intoxicating distraction. And no matter what he felt in that moment, he knew it wasn’t love, it was comfort. It wasn’t forever, only momentary.

He was gone before the sun rose.

Sam reached for a menu and pursed his lips at the slow service.

Y/N blinked to clear her head. She took a breath and smiled kindly at Dean.

“And what about you? Can I get you anything?”

Her voice rang through him like a church bell, calling him back home. Maybe there was a reason they chose this case, in this part of the country, in this sleepy town.

Dean smiled and took a leap.

“I don’t know but… I think I owe you breakfast…”

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