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brucewaynehater101 · 10 months ago

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I had a Batman AU thought that I wanted to share involving eldritch?sentient!Gotham. Gotham is alive, old and deeply rooted magic of ??? origin (that doesn't appreciate being poked and prodded so attempts to discern what she is have ended badly), and she is... mercurial, to put it diplomatically. She can favor or sabotage people on a sliding scale of intensity - basically good or bad luck on the lower side of the scale (finding a $20 bill vs stepping in a gross puddle kinda thing), and on the higher side it's things like a bullet missing when it shouldn't or a piece of building falling onto someone. She also has boons, things she grants certain people - primarily Bats, but there are a few Rogues that have their own boons because again, mercurial. Boons bind someone to Gotham, make them always find their way back and eventually need to come back, but if you're close enough to Gotham for her to offer a boon, it's probably your home.

Batman is her... warlock? Paladin? He's pledged his life to protect Gotham and is in tune with her, and he protects the city and keeps it in balance, and she grants him her favor constantly and has given him a powerful boon (able to hide in whatever shadows there are, even slight ones, and virtually disappear in them even if you're watching him). When he takes Dick in and Dick creates the Robin mantle, Gotham loves it, and Dick gets his own boon (able to land where he intends to, can't be killed/seriously hurt from a fall).

Jason though is her absolute favorite son, her pride and joy. He's born of Gotham, steeped in the city, of it and for it, and he loves Gotham and when he becomes Robin he fights to make her better and bring light to her. She gives him the boon that he knows every part of the city instinctively. He can move through it easily, knows the streets and buildings by heart, knows on some level what's happening in different places (not always exact, usually gut feelings), and he can always hide in it when he chooses.

Then he dies. (Away from Gotham, because if he'd been in Gotham she never would have let it happen.) Gotham and Batman are a wreck together, they're angry and grieving and losing it, everything is coming apart and it's Bad. (The Joker had a boon from Gotham, because he's also of Gotham, and she's not good or evil but simply is. However when he killed HER favorite son, she tore the boon and her favor from him and wrecked what was left of his mind. He still feels chained to Gotham and Batman, but this is no longer a city that loves him.)

This is when Tim pushes to become Robin, and both Gotham and Batman hate it. They both want to lose themselves in the rage and grief, but Tim won't let them. Batman/Bruce comes around first, but Gotham is still seething, and she sabotages Tim at every turn: things that should hold his weight break or creak loudly, shadows never seem to hide him, evidence gets lost or trails go cold when he tries to follow them, buildings constantly crumble around him, goons always seem to get hits on him that he should be able to dodge or avoid, he gets pitched into the harbor CONSTANTLY.

It gets to a point that Bruce is seriously considering firing Tim purely because it's notably more dangerous for him as Robin than it ever was for Dick and Jason (even though he and Dick both try to convince Gotham to calm down and lay off). Tim eventually tracks down the best place to communicate with Gotham directly (much as she tries to deter him) and they get into a fight (reminiscent of Tim getting into fights with Bruce to make him get his shit together).

Tim argues that if he hadn't stepped in, Bruce would have either gotten himself killed or crossed a line he couldn't come back from, and it would have destroyed him AND the hope left in Gotham. He would have been considered a criminal and likely would have become a Rogue, with no 'Batman' to step up and stop him. He argues that Batman needs a Robin to fight for and protect, and without one he'll backslide and get worse again, and if that happens, Gotham will be torn to shreds. Tim points out that Jason loved Gotham and fought for her, and it's disrespectful of his love and his memory to let everything fall to pieces after he fought so hard for her.

It's enough to convince Gotham to back off on her sabotage, though she's still hurt and sulking. Bruce still isn't sure about Tim not having Gotham's favor, much less a boon of his own, but Tim argues that he'll get good enough to keep up with or without Gotham's help - which he does.

Over time though, Gotham watches Tim fight to protect Gotham and Batman, and she admits she was wrong in how she treated him. She slowly starts to extend her favor to him and eventually approaches him and offers him a boon. Tim, however, turns her down. He's seen how badly Jason's loss and Gotham's grief and anger affected those closely connected to her, and he knows taking the boon will tie him to Gotham permanently. He believes those connected to Gotham and Gotham herself need someone who can be more objective and keep a level head, and he's secretly kind of worried that if something happens again, if Bruce and the Bats eventually tire of him and don't need him, he'll be trapped in Gotham. He also just doesn't totally trust Gotham even though he loves her.

Gotham's hurt, obviously, but she understands and doesn't lash out, recognizing it's her own fault. She does give him her favor though and swears to never rescind it, even when she's upset with him. Tim's gotten this far without her favor or a boon, but it's nice not to have to worry about getting dunked in the harbor for the third time in one week anymore (though she hasn't done that in a year or so).

Then Jason returns, and Gotham is having THE BEST time. Her baby boy! Is back! He's bigger now, and he's a lot angrier and hurt in a lot of ways, but he's! Back! She's a little worried about how angry he is at Batman and the other Bats, but Jason is her favorite and she can't turn him away or deny him. She still favors him, she just... makes sure she favors the Bats enough too to keep them all on an even playing field. They'll work it out. Tim managed to get her to calm down, so she's confident her current Robin will help the family again.

Then Jason goes to the Titan Tower after Tim, and initially she assumes they'll talk and things will be better, but when Jason comes back she sees that he went and ATTACKED Tim.

It's the first time she's ever been angry at Jason, and she drops a brick on his head (while he's wearing his helmet, he's still her favorite), and she threatens to collapse the ceiling of his apartment. They get into a fight. Jason came away from his fight with Tim thinking Tim was impressive as Robin, but he doesn't want him in the suit so he still went through with beating him unconscious. He DID notice Tim doesn't have Gotham's boon, so he doesn't understand why she's so upset he roughed the kid up.

Gotham is pissed and a pissed Gotham is hard to communicate with outside of raw emotion, so eventually after suffering several indignities of light sabotage, getting caught yelling at the street or a building while the manhole cover or windows rattle angrily, Jason goes to find Tim and ask "hey what the FUCK" (haven't fully figured how this changes Jason's interactions with the rest of the Bats, but he is begrudgingly impressed that Tim made it through the start of his tenure with Gotham actively sabotaging him, then argued an eldritch city into behaving, then turned down her boon and STILL came out of it with her undying favor).

(Gotham, in this AU, is NOT a fan of the al Ghuls at all. Primarily Ra's, at first, because he wants to purify Gotham/control her, and she is NOT a fan of that thanks. He's tried attacking her (destroying parts of the city), threatening her, trying to determine the origin of her magic, enslave her, trying to bargain with her, seducing her, and she is having NONE OF IT. Going into Gotham is a nightmare for anyone with the League, because while it can be difficult for her to get a hold of them, once she does she sabotages the HELL out of them. Getting cut on rusted rebar, falling off ledges, sinkholes opening up under them, one of them managed to get bitten by a rat and catch the bubonic plague. Ra's has, on one memorable occasion, been knocked into an open manhole and then almost drowned in sewer water that carried him out into the harbor where something (possibly Croc) tried to eat him, and he broke his arm while climbing out.

Talia got a reluctant pass since she seemed more interested in Bruce than Gotham and Bruce reciprocated, but Gotham doesn't appreciate Talia's attempts to lure Bruce OUT of Gotham. When she finds out Talia kept Jason away? AND convinced him to go after Tim? Talia is on the permanent shit list too.

When Gotham finds out about DAMIAN, Talia can't set foot in Gotham without having SEVERAL chunks of building being dropped on her from above.

Though when Damian DOES show up, Gotham is quick to claim him and offer him a boon. He's the son of Batman, he's a future Robin, and if he's given a boon, he's tied to Gotham and can't easily return to the League (mostly Talia and Ra's). Win win!

Except then he attacks Tim, and learns VERY swiftly that it's not good to piss off the sentient eldritch city you accepted a boon from. He's laid up with a migraine and all kinds of awful symptoms of an illness (nothing fatal but definitely awful) until Tim recovers, and then Tim gets to play mediator between the Bats and Gotham AGAIN as he tries to explain to Damian the nuances of Gotham as an entity and what being one of her favored/booned actually means, AND lecturing Gotham about sabotaging another Robin/giving him a boon without making sure he understood what he was accepting.)

HI 👋 Fabulous AU you've got here.

I particularly enjoy how complicated Tim's relationship with Gotham is. In fact, Tim's later years could be misunderstood by the Bats as Tim being her favorite (hear me out).

If Gotham never states who her favorite is, all the Bats see is that Tim, despite not having a boon, has Gotham on his side against the other Bats (really, Tim just isn't attacking/harming the others like they are to him, but it's about perspective).

It's also kind of heartbreaking that Tim has an additional condition that sets him apart from the Bats. He's the only one to be immediately hated by Gotham. He doesn't have a boon (though later that's a choice). He is consistently reaching out to Gotham to actually communicate and fix their issues.

Might I add an additional part for extra angst? We'll take the fanon idea of Tim stalking his heroes from a young age.

Gotham sees that another being idolizes her paladins and grants him the small boon of his camera never making a sound, being unnoticeable, and the flash never being visible unless Tim wants it to. Tim is okay with being stuck in Gotham due to his parents never taking him abroad with them

After Tim forces his way into Robin, though, Gotham rips this away from him, destroys any need for him to stay (she wants him to leave her alone to her own rumination), and actively sabatoges him.

Because it was taken from him once, because he's felt the pain of that loss, because the sudden emptiness was a gaping hole he had to spend years coping with, he never wants a boon again. He doesn't know if he'll be able to handle the sudden deprivation once more.

This is the start of him not trusting that anything lasts (especially since a retracted boon was so rare it's only been rumored in the past [since Gotham doesn't care for "good" or "evil" it's harder to get on her bad side]).

I'm curious what all of the boons alloted to each person are (very curious if/what Commissioner Gordon's)

#tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #sentient gotham #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson

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highhhfiveee · 3 months ago

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it’s early morning n i’m at work which means i’d like to escape ☝🏽 [EDIT: i began this at 9 am and it’s now 2:35. customers getting in the way of my budding fiction career!]

cw. smut! minors…if i catch you…

‘company’ by tinashe played on my ride and i was like hmmmm…fwb!sae itoshi?

originally, i thought that sae would be pushing to make things official, but nah. he’s definitely not the type. as corny as it is, his only serious relationship is with soccer. anything outside of that is a fling, just something fun to keep him satisfied between all the stress.

you, on the hand, want him so bad. you’d met him in the dairy aisle of the grocery store, poking him and asking if he could grab a tub of butter down from the top shelf.

he’d done it with no hesitation, but also no enthusiasm. he’d just held it out to you, his eyes scanning over the prices of cheese. your own eyes are trained on him, taking in his ever-present stoic nature and his damp, post-training hair, pushed off his forehead with a headband.

he gave you a peripheral glance, causing you to scramble and ask for another tub of butter…and two bags of cheese.

“anything else?”

he found your flushed cheeks amusing, though he’d never reveal that to you. he was used to this kind of attention from men, women, everyone in between. he’d reached into his playbook, offering, “give me your number and i’ll invite you to a game.”

you’d left the store that day with unnecessary dairy and millions of butterflies in your stomach.

you weren’t a soccer fan really, but you found yourself at every one of his home games, cheering until you lost your voice and could barely make it onto the pitch to give him a hug.

things go on like this for some time; you go to his games and he takes you somewhere after to celebrate. it could be dinner or a bar or even…his apartment, which he brings you to only a few months into your friendship.

after a big win, he’s popping the cork on some champagne and keeping you endlessly refreshed, giggly and bleary-eyed and prettier than he remembers. his eyes bore into you, the tension between your beings a crack of lightning in his dim, well-kept living room.

you’re splayed across his couch, your skirt sliding up your tingly thighs as you rub them together and he thinks, “it’s what a winner deserves.”

he deserves pleasure after pressure, and he’s not oblivious to the way you’ve been eyeing him, biting at your lip and laughing at everything he says like he’s a standup comedian. it’s flattering to a point, almost desperate.

everything happens so quickly, but you don’t mind the whirlwind as it lands you in his bed, pressing the tips of your manicured fingers into his toned abdomen as he gives you thrusts that have you mumbling for a break.

“i know you’ve been wanting this. do you really want to stop?” you hate that your heart explodes at his words, your eyes springing a leak as he grinds your pelvises together, moving one of his hands from your waist to your throat.

the soft, albeit deep, missionary position turns into a deeper mating press, your nails leaving crescents in sae’s pale shoulder blades as you beg him to let you release.

“keep begging and i just might let you…only obedient sluts get to come on my dick.”

he can barely even feel his dick with how wet you are, your equally as soaked face twisting and turning and blushing at his attitude. his arrogance, a turn off on anyone else, always left you reeling. it shouldn’t have sent shockwaves to your core or a tremor through your heart, the way he treated you.

he made you feel like a fan, like every one of your hookups was a meet n greet…

see him, fuck him, leave him. let him, the world class sae itoshi, have his way with you.

let him eat your pussy from behind, gripping your hips and bringing them back against his tongue as it dips into your hole and pulls forward endless streams of come.

let him take a handful of your hair in his hand, pushing your head down until his pubes are tickling your nostrils and your brown lipgloss is smeared all over his thighs, a groan falling from his lips as your throat contracts around his mushroom tip.

hell, let him manhandle you into reverse cowgirl, snapping his groin into you with that same fucking stoic expression, as you wrinkle his sheets between your fingers and cry out a lovesick plea. “oh, sae, p-please come in me.”

you’re not able to catch the way one side of his mouth ticks up, arrogant and shit-eating as it always was. “what’s that?”

his movements slow ever so slightly, allowing you to feel every painstakingly hard inch of him. he’s giving you a way out…kind of. wants to see if you’re serious or just fucked out.

“come in me, please.” you think, just maybe, finishing inside will bridge the gap. he’ll be yours as you feel his load leak out of you, clenching your hole around nothing so that he’ll fuck you again with the same outcome. “i want it so bad.”

he knows what you want. he knows that his come is symbolic of something else, and while he’ll provide you with the physical, he’s in no position to give you the emotional.

your toes curl against his waist as he throbs inside of you, spraying your walls with what should be his love. it should make him pull you up to him and and brush your sweaty curls away from your temples, but it doesn’t.

he only pushes you away from him, sending you face first into his mattress. “you should clean yourself up. i’ve got practice in an hour.”

pt 2: 📌

help, i need to be fucked sideways.

#bllk smut #blue lock smut #blue lock fic #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae itoshi smut #itoshi sae smut #faire is writing!#faire needs to be sedated #i wrote this at *work* y’all

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ssentimentals · 6 months ago

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Omg omg i saw someone wrote about bestie!seokmin asking forcing you to play pepero game with him but I LOST it, so pretty please, beautiful, can you do it😫

ooh i never read anything like this, let me try baby, hopefully it'll be as good as original!

lee seokmin + pepero game

'there must be some science behind it,' seokmin comments as you two prepare the table for dinner party tonight.

'behind what?' you ask, washing fruits. 'can you pass me the fruit bowl, please?'

'behind winning a pepero game.' seokmin comes up to you with a bowl in his hand and points at the tv screen, where two famous actors are being forced to play a pepero game. 'like, there's definitely some tactics for winning.'

you squint at the tv screen, watching as audience screams when eventually both of the actors look like they're about to kiss. seokmin arranges fruits just like he knows you like it - apples and oranges at the bottom with grapes on top. he wonders if you noticed how natural it is for you two to be together, how effortlessly conversation flows; he wonders if you noticed how much he knows about you, how he seems to always gravitate towards you whenever you're around. he stares at the fruit bowl and wants to scream because he does things for you without even thinking them through - like him choosing green grapes because you once mentioned in the passing that you don't like purple ones.

'pepero game doesn't require strategic mindset, seokkie,' you comment, turning to him with a sweet smile. 'it's just for fun anyways.'

seokmin is going to blame what comes out of his mouth next for four months of pining over you. 'let's play it then! i will prove that it's all about strategy!'

you look confused for a second, unsure if he's joking or not, so seokmin presses on, desperate in a way that can be considered embarrassing if he had any shame left. gladly, he has none. 'here, i've got them!' seokmin grabs a pack - a strawberry one, because guess whose favorite flavor that is? correct, yours - and shoves it in your hands. 'it's just for fun, you said. right?'

you blink at him. seokmin being this random and chaotic is not a surprise, so you let it slide, deciding to humor him anyway. it concerns you a little how you are up for whatever seokmin plans, too weak to say no to him, but you quickly erase this thought from your mind in favor of concentrating on the game. it makes your heart race a little, no matter how much you want to deny it; this proximity to seokmin makes you a bit giddy inside. 'ready?' you ask, carefully putting one end of the straw in your mouth.

seokmin swallows, staring up at you. maybe it was a bad idea - how he is supposed to keep his cool when you're this close? but there's no stepping back now, so he nods and lightly bites another end of the straw with his teeth, looking up at you. it's only the beginning but he can literally feel sweat running down his temple, because you are right there, so close, he can just take two big bites and your lips will touch. there's a hope in him, burning low somewhere in his heart that his feelings are not unrequited. that sometime between you two laughing so hard that your tummies hurt and deep conversations in hushed voices that felt too intimate for just friends - he just hopes that somewhere between those times you also fell for him.

'seokkie!' you grumble indignantly, when he takes a huge bite, instantly coming up super close to you. 'ugh.'

without thinking, you aso take a big bite just to piss him off but when your noses almost touch, you halt in surprise. you try to gauge seokmin's reaction, but his face gives nothing away; his big chocolate eyes are trained on you with such intensity that you're scared to move, intuitively understanding that pulling back right now will ruin something unspoken. carefully, not taking his eyes off you, seokmin takes a small bite, cutting short distance between you two to the point that one more move and your lips will touch. you are frozen, heart also stopped beating while mind is running frantically - what to do? but seokmin solves this puzzle for you - he leans in, takes one more bite and connects your mouths together. it's not a full kiss, but it's a not a simple peck either, you both pull back to actually chew and swallow strawberry bites and-

seokmin's hand on the back of your neck is heavy and warm. hedraws you back with a gentle force, making it clear that you can easily free yourself but also making it clear that this is not what he wants. 'tell me i'm not wrong or crazy,' he whispers, bringing your foreheads together. 'i- i just can't-' he takes a deep breath before opening his eyes and looking at you. the amount of hope and longing in his gaze shakes you to the core. 'can i kiss you? for real?'

you have no idea how you're still standing because your heart gave up long time ago. you nod and your heart starts beating again when seokmin's lips touch yours - hesitantly, at first. but then diving in deeper, more confidently, drawing out sounds from you that surprise you both. when you lean back, he keeps you two so close that you wonder if he can hear how loudly your heart is beating.

'i like you,' seokmin lets out. 'in case it wasn't clear.'

you giggle at this. 'it's mutual, seokkie.'

he sighs in relief, hugging you tight. seokmin fears that this is all a dream and when he wakes up, it will all be gone. so while you can't see, he pinches himself lightly and hugs you even tighter when he realizes that you did not disappear.

'i owe you guys.' seokmin says, looking seriously at the pack of pepero. 'thanks.'

you slap his chest, laughing. 'we both owe them!'

a/n: oh to play pepero with lee seokmin :((( hopefully you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #lee seokmin #lee seokmin fluff #seventeen seokmin #seokmin x reader #seokmin fluff #svt dk #svt seokmin #svt lee seokmin #seokmin imagine #lee seokmin imagine #lee seokmin x reader #seventeen dk #svt dk x reader #dokeyom #seventeen dokyeom

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teeskzagain · 1 year ago

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original post got taken down unfortunately😔😔, here is the updated version

Anonymous asked:

I keep imagining Mingi forcing you to cockwarm him at a movie theatre AHHHHHHSHSHH and like he teases you by occasionally thrusting up to hit all the right places and saying it was just him “getting comfy” or “he had a cramp” when he really just enjoys seeing you try to keep everything together 👹 I also feel like he’d whisper in your ear like “pay attention Angel, I didn’t spend money on these tickets for nothing” WITH HIS DEEP ASS VOICE AHHHHHH IK GENUINELY TWEAKING RN- 🙏🧎‍♀️AHEM- He would also SO massage your thighs and hips (IMAGINE THROWING YOUR HEAD BACK AND HE STARTS PEPPERING YOUR NECK WITH KISSESHSJSHSHHSJSGRRRRRRRRR)

There are so many “also’s” in that sentence 💀 BUT WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT HOPEFULLY 🤡 don’t feel at all obligated to make anything of this especially since idek if you take requests 😭 I just thought that this is such a YUMMY Drabble prompt 😀 and HAD to share it <3 take care pookemssss

OHH??? uh first off I would like to say I'D LOVE TO TAKE REQUESTS (you're actually the first to provide me with a prompt) and second this is so absolutely delicious.

warnings: smut (COCKWARMING, exhibition, semi-public, teasing, kissing) 18+

wc: 1.2k

this probably wouldn’t even be the first time you found yourself in this situation. no, it’d be a regular occurrence at this point, a developmental game if you must. that’s why bf!mingi absolutely loves the movies, because that’s when he get’s to play his favorite game.

‘how long are you gonna last this time around?’

imagine bf!mingi, who’s caressing your thigh tenderly with the backs of his fingers, shushing you and mumbling sweetly into your hair while your ass continues to squirm against his pelvis. getting situated always took the longest. so tedious, finding that perfect spot where you can just slide down and onto his lap, your walls gripping his cock and swallowing it whole.

he sits idly and unmoving, allowing you to move around for a bit. because at some point, bf!mingi’s gonna start the fun part of the game. the part that really tests your strength.

and once you finally achieve that perfect spot, the sensation makes your face scrunch pleasantly and a soft sigh floats out of you. so entranced, you almost don’t notice the pretty pink blanket, draped over the both of you, slip just slightly down your leg.

“shhhh…okay baby, i need you keep still,” he’d tell you, and a part of him almost doesn’t want to go reposition it. what if he left you out and exposed? imagine, someone walking up and discovering the disgusting scene. it’s exciting him, these thoughts, but soon enough he’s lowering himself down and recovers you two, all the while holding back a smile. it’s enjoyable for him, just the riskiness of it all.

how the dark theatre somehow shadows your lewd actions, yet the monumental screen ahead provides illumination onto your struggling face, “if you wanna win, you know you can’t move.”

after many weeks of playing, you haven’t won a single round. not once. you would get so close, but then luck out whenever bf!mingi would buck a bit too hard, or your own desires began to consume you. every, single round, a loser had been made out of you.

“last time, you couldn’t even make it through the previews before you fucking came all over my legs,” he reminds you, a slow and sick grin spreading wide, “you gonna try harder? wanna get your prize tonight?” it’s pathetic how you have to bite back a mewl from his words.

this is always the hardest part for you: the taunting. it kills you every time.

at the start of the movie, it’s through his teasing voice; his low, grumble of a tone that buzzes perfectly into your head.

“see? already made it through the trailers,” he’d laugh. as a reward the aimless touch he provided earlier turns into a hard grab, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with a quiet groan, “one step closer. just needa make it through the movie.”

then, it’s through his touches.

as you become more conscious of your ragged breaths, his hand trails from your leg and drags up towards your shirt. teasing your breasts through the fabric, he grazes absentmindedly before running then back down your stomach, only stopping when he meets your bare pussy. it takes his full strength to not end the game by just simply fingering the orgasm out of you. but if that were the case, then he wouldn’t be able to see you whither. and that’s always his most favored part.

the most you could do is shut your eyes and pray your body doesn’t betray you. but even that doesn’t get you far, with just a few minutes into the movie, friction starts to build within you. while bf!mingi rests his back against the plush seat, grateful for his top view of the movie theatre, a slow thrust of his hips find a rhythm in your core.

it's torturous. the intentional, unhurried movements, leisurely rocking in and out of you. it's like he's rubbing himself inside you, and you're forced to seal your mouth.

"you holding up okay, angel?" he mutters and you give him a brisk nod, turning to the side momentarily. he finds that comical. your desire to always win. the need to prove him wrong.

but he knows you. he knows you're slipping with every second his leaking cock stays within you, radiating the pleasure you so desperately seek. he knows you're crumbling. you’re gonna unravel soon.

right when you think you've conquered this section of the challenge, a quick shift from underneath you has your eyes vibrating, a small gasp leaving you as bf!mingi practically buries himself closer to your cervix.

"ah, oops, sorry...just need to.." he moves around some more, adjusting his position, along with you, before halting once again, "alright, there we go. i feel much better. how about you?"

the angle he’s now hitting feels like it’s splitting you open and a strained yet airy moan tupples from your lips. with no more strength, your head falls down into the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes shut and brows furrowed, "i can't- i can't do it-"

"mmm, baby, no," he wraps an arm around your torso to reach your cheeks, clasping them together with a smush then forcing you back forward, "baby, you gotta keep your eyes open."

he drops his hand but that doesn't stop your whining, you sobbing out a, "no- i can't-"

"shhh y/n what did i say?,” he locks onto your inner thighs and widens them, “you know i didn't spend money on these damn tickets for nothing. come on, watch the movie."

as you feel him start up again with his quiet thrusts, you loll your head back with a grimace and hooded eyes, little noises now spilling out. your neck fully exposed, bf!mingi takes initiative to lean up and bring his lips to the vast area, nipping and kissing at it. he suctions onto your skin which sends a jolt throughout your core.

and just like that, you're done for.

"you're so close, i can feel it." he whispers on your neck as a devilish smirk overtakes his kisses, "i fucking knew it. i knew you would lose."

his words nearly egg you on as you accept defeat, allowing yourself to succumb to the slow pace of his length sliding against your insides. your fingers curl with the repeated motion, a continuous build up until eventually you burst and your orgasm hits you hard.

it causes you to wriggle against him, contracting your body so tightly you’re shaking then releases you, repeating this over and over again all the while bf!mingi keeps his kisses coming on your neck.

like said, this is always his favorite part of the game. the thing he looks most forward to. because no matter how hard you've tried, it always ends the same.

"aww," he notices your high coming down, excluding the occasional body twitches, "and the movie was almost over."

"you're awful." you could hardly muster that sentence, your back resting on top of his chest while you regain your composure. your cunt still pulsed every now and then around him.

he supplies a silent laugh before going in your ear once more, "well, look at it this way. now we can go home and play your favorite game."

while bf!mingi returns back to his seat, bringing you with him, a small whimper is produced by you. because absolutely not what was to come, your favorite game. in fact, it felt merely like an extension of this game.

‘how many different ways are you gonna make bf!mingi cum tonight?’

#ateez smut #ateez #song mingi #mingi #mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez mingi #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez x reader smut #song mingi x reader #black reader ateez smut #teeskzagain #let’s try this again 🙌#ateez imagines #ateez fluff

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jtargaryen18 · 2 months ago

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The Arrangement ~ Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Words: 9.2k

Pairing: Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Warnings: Kidnapping, physical violence, references to prostitution, attempted SA, angst, so much angst.

You fall into a trap and finally learn the truth...

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

The sun slanted through the tall sitting room windows, casting long golden ribbons across the floorboards. Dust floated in the light, undisturbed. The past few mornings had been so peaceful here. The sort of peace you hadn't enjoyed since you father left for the war that had taken his life.

You sat at the small table near the window, hands working slowly over the seam of a shirt. It was Arthur’s if you had to guess, judging by the frayed cuffs. The steady pull of the needle through cloth was comforting. The consistent movement of your fingers kept your thoughts from unraveling completely.

A low creak of the floorboards pulled your attention toward the doorway. Arthur hovered there a moment, newspaper in his hand. Then he stepped inside and lowered himself into the armchair across from you. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes flicking briefly to the shirt in your lap.

“You know, Polly would never try to mend mine,” he said, nodding toward the sleeve. “She would’ve told me to bin the bloody thing.”

You smiled. “I don’t mind.”

And you didn’t. You could just picture it. Polly standing over a laundry basket, cigarette dangling from her mouth, scoffing at the sorry state of one of Arthur’s shirts. “You’ve got money now, Arthur. Stop dressing like a bloody scarecrow,” she'd say. You could see her rolling her eyes and hand the shirt off to someone else or toss it in the bin herself.

Somehow, that only made you admire her more. Even when she was grumbling or swearing under her breath, there was a quiet dignity in Polly Gray. She didn’t waste her time on things she considered beneath her, but she always showed up when it counted. She’d taken care of you in her own way. And for all her biting words and clever looks, you did trust her.

Normally, she was here at the house but she'd gone out this morning to run errands. She said she planned to check in on your mother. Try as you might, your doubts and fears kept eating at you. You still didn't understand why you couldn't see your own mother.

For a while, the two of you sat there in companionable silence, broken only by the rhythmic slide of the needle and thread. Arthur read the morning paper and it was nice to have someone else for company. Finn passed through the hallway outside a few minutes later, humming tunelessly and tossing a quick, “Mornin’,” over his shoulder. You returned it with a nod, and Arthur grumbled something about him being late to everything but trouble.

Your eyes drifted to the window, though your hands kept working. Last night kept pulling at your thoughts like a thread you couldn’t knot. Tommy.

The way he’d looked when he walked into the room. Tired, yes, but also… something had been different. His shoulders had softened and something behind his pale blue eyes had cracked open, just a little. The way he’d held you as you fell asleep... There'd been no urgency to any of his actions, no possession. Tommy had made you feel like you mattered, like you were safe.

That was the part you didn’t know what to do with. If you didn't know better, you'd think...

No. You couldn’t let yourself go there. If you did, if you started to believe that Tommy Shelby cared for you--really cared for you... What happened when he no longer needed you? When the message had been sent, when the point had been made?

They’d already pulled your mother out of your home. Neither of you could go back now. Not ever again. Not after what had happened and what people were likely hearing. And after this, you couldn't share a home with Sean O'Grady. Not another single day. You'd be in physical danger from him, and everyone else, because everyone knew you'd been wagered to the Shelbys. You’d have to take your mother and start over. Somewhere new and far away. Maybe you could make it, convince Rory to come with you. He probably would as long as your stepfather wasn't involved.

The truth settled cold in your chest. You didn’t know if you even had the strength for that. You stared down at the thread in your hands, fingers still moving, but slower now. Less precise. Your rhythm faltered.

Arthur must’ve noticed, because for once, he didn’t fill the silence with noise. He just sat there a moment. Watching. Then, softly he said, “Try not to worry yourself.”

You looked up. It was like he could read your mind. Like he could feel the weight of your fears.

He nodded toward the fabric in your lap. “You’re sittin’ here fixin’ shirts and not fallin' apart. That’s strength.” He paused, jaw working like he wasn’t sure how much further to go. “It’s dignity. That’s what it is.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. It was the first time someone had ever called it that before. What you did to survive, to stay upright.

Arthur didn’t say anything else. Maybe he figured he’d already said too much. When he finished reading the paper, he flipped it closed with a rustle. Without another word, he rose from the chair and wandered off down the hall. The room felt larger without him, too big for you. A few minutes went by with the sound of the clock ticking filling the space he’d left behind.

You tried unsuccessfully to focus on the fabric in your lap again, but your attention span was lost. Your fingers moved out of habit now, not with real purpose as they normally did.

The sunlight had shifted while you'd been sitting there. The angle of its rays was sharper now, shining on the dust in the air that looked like flecks of silver. A breeze slipped in through the cracked window, stirring the curtains, the whisper of it brushing against your neck. Something about it made you uneasy, though you couldn’t say why.

You set the shirt aside, hands folding it neatly, though you hadn’t finished. You stared at the spot where Arthur had sat. You could still hear his voice in your head. It’s dignity.

The silence of the room pressed in on you. It was like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting. It sparked an uneasy feeling in you, like a wave of dread creeping in.

A soft knock at the open doorway jarred you out of your thoughts. You looked up to find one of the maids standingthere. You barely knew the girl having only seen her once or twice. Her hands were folded tightly in front of her apron, knuckles pale, like she was fretting about something. Something about her expression seemed off.

She moved into the room, her voice low and careful. “There’s something you should know.”

You watched her for just a second, feeling an uncomfortable shift in the air.

She stepped farther into the room, but not with the casual ease of someone running a message or asking about tea. Her gaze darted from your face to the floor, then to the window. Anywhere but directly at you.

It had you straightening in your chair. “Is everything all right?”

The maid hesitated. Then she nodded. Too quickly. “Yes. I mean--” Her voice faltered. She took a breath and tried again. “There’s just… someone asked me to tell you something.”

Your heart gave sped up. All the color had drained from her face. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, or like maybe she was about to summon one.

“Who?” you asked, gently.

Another beat of silence. She didn’t answer that. Didn’t seem like she could. Instead, she swallowed hard, eyes finally meeting yours, but only for a split second. “It’s about your mother.”

That was all it took. Your pulse jumped. Your body went still, hands froze in your lap.

“What about her?”

The maid shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She looked like she wanted to bolt and run. Instead, she stepped a little closer, lowering her voice like the walls might be listening. “She’s… not well.”

What did that mean? “Not well how?”

The girl glanced toward the hallway, then back to you, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s been hurt. Bad. I... I don’t know everything. Just that she’s at a house on Holling Street. Someone there’s looking after her.”

Holling Street. You knew it. Just on the edge of Small Heath. Your mouth went dry. “How do you know this?”

“Someone told me,” she said finally, hesitating longer than normal. “They said you need to go see her soon. Might be your only chance.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, it was hard to breathe as panic threatened to take you over. You wanted to question the vagueness, the way she wouldn't say who told her, the way her eyes wouldn’t meet yours for more than a second at a time. But fear was already crowding your thoughts. If your mother was hurt, truly hurt, waiting around for answers wasn’t an option.

You had to see her. Right now.

You thought you said thank you to the maid. Your heart was beating so fast you were afraid it would break out of your ribs.

She left quickly. Too quickly.

But you were already sinking back into your thoughts, the sound of her footsteps fading behind the thundering in your ears. What were you going to do?

Could you make it out unseen? Just long enough to check on your mother? Could you make it back without Tommy finding out? You'd have to find a hat to cover your hair and a coat, try not to look as you normally did.

Maybe if you were quick. No one had eyes on you every second. You knew you were supposed to be out of sight right now. Because of his lesson. Because of the game Tommy Shelby was playing with Small Heath, and with you. You weren’t supposed to leave the house. You weren’t supposed to be seen.

But what if your mother was dying? What if this was the one chance to see her, to say goodbye if things were dire, and you didn’t take it? You’d never forgive yourself. Not even Tommy’s fury could compare to that kind of regret. And while you hadn't seen his fury firsthand, you were pretty sure you didn't want to.

You found a dark hat of Polly's in the hall closet and a coat of hers that would work. You were shaking like a leaf but you had to try. You'd do your best to make it back before anyone found out and sent up a couple prayers while you were at it.

You made it out the front door, heart thundering in your chest, eyes scanning the street as if your guilt alone might alert someone to your escape. But you barely made it three steps down the walk when a voice stopped you.

“Miss.” Turning sharply, one of Tommy's men stood just ahead, hands up like he didn’t want to scare you. You recognized him, always quiet and reliable. He was always shadowing the hallways.

“I can’t let you leave," he said. "It's for your protection."

Your breath caught. “It’s my mother,” you said, voice tight. “She’s been hurt. I just need to see her. I’ll be back. I swear--”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, still firm. “Orders are no one in or out. Not without Mr. Shelby’s say.”

“You don’t understand,” you snapped, desperation breaking through. “She might be dying. I need to see her.”

Shaking his head, visibly uncomfortable now, he said, “It’s not safe.”

Your voice cracked. “Then come with me. Please. If I’m wrong, I’ll come right back. But if I’m right--” Tears welled in your eyes. “Please.”

And that’s when it happened. The man you'd been speaking with saw them before you did. He shoved you behind him, drawing his weapon in the same breath.

Four men in dark clothes, moving fast. At first, you didn’t register it. They were just shapes in the distance. Shadows cutting across the sunlit street. But then you caught the way they moved. Not like passersby. Not like men with errands to run. They were running toward you. Their faces were set with intention, hard, flat, unreadable. They weren’t there to talk. There was no absolutely no hesitation in their stride. No shouted warning. Just momentum and menace.

Your breath caught in your throat. One of them looked familiar as they came closer. He looked like a friend of your stepfather's.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something screamed run. But you didn’t even get the chance.

The shot the man in front of you got off was loud, had you flinching. He missed. One of the attackers didn’t. Another shot cracked through the air and Tommy’s man staggered, blood blooming at his shoulder, then his chest.

You screamed as he dropped to the ground. The intruders were on you in seconds. Two of them reached you first. You twisted in their grip, kicking, clawing -- anything to get free. One of Tommy’s men was down, bleeding out behind you, and others were running in your direction, you heard their shouts, but still too far off. They wouldn't reach you in time.

“Jesus, you idiot!” the man you recognized snarled as he grabbed your arm, yanking you forward. “You fired that fuckin' close to her. What if you’d hit her?”

The second man, the one with the gun still half-raised, shrugged. “Didn’t Sean say he wanted her dead or alive?”

The first man turned to him, and the grin that spread across his face made your stomach drop. “Oh, he wants her, alright.” His eyes raked over you with a twisted glint. “But not dead. Not yet anyway.”

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t know what Sean had told them, what exactly they’d come to do. But that slimy grin told you enough. This wasn’t just about revenge. This was about ownership. About your stepfather taking back what he thought he was owed.

You tried to scream again, but the breath wouldn’t come. Your chest tightened, your limbs shook. And for one terrifying second, all you could do was freeze. You were alone. Outnumbered.

And then you heard it. The low growl of an engine. A delivery truck came barreling up the road, tires screeching, engine roaring. The men turned toward it, and one of them laughed. “Right on time.”

More shouts now. Tommy’s men, two of them, sprinting from around the house. And behind them Arthur and Finn. Arthur yelling something you couldn’t make out.

One of the attackers grabbed you with rough hands, the stink of sweat and pipe smoke clinging to him. You struggled, kicked, screamed. It didn’t matter. They hauled you into the truck like a sack of grain, slamming the door shut just as it roared away.

In that last second, as the world blurred through the rear window, your eyes locked with Arthur’s. He was mid-run, gun drawn, fury on his face.

But it was too late.

The truck disappeared into the street, and you were gone.

***

The first gunshot cracked through the air like a whip. Arthur was already halfway down the stairs before his mind caught up to the sound. Another shot, closer this time.

Then a scream. Her scream.

“Fuck--”

He was moving before Finn could say a word, boots hammering the hardwood, shoving open the front door so hard it slammed the wall.

He saw it all.

One of the blinders, collapsed on the walk, blood spreading across his chest, eyes already going glassy.

And then he saw her. He didn't know why in the fuck she was wearing Polly's hat and coat. Apparently trying to go somewhere. But she didn't appear to want to go anywhere with them. Her body twisted in the grip of two men in dark coats, arms pinned, feet kicking as they dragged her backward toward a truck that came screaming up to the curb. A delivery truck going too fast.

Arthur's stomach dropped. No, no, no--

He bolted forward, rage in his throat and murder in his mind. “No!” he roared.

But it was too late. The truck door slammed, tires screaming. And they were gone.

He gave chase anyway, running full out, lungs burning, boots slamming pavement. But the truck tore off down the street and around the bend before he even cleared the walk.

Arthur stopped hard, hands on his knees, trying not to vomit from the effort and the fury.

“Arthur!” Finn called behind him.

“Stay in the fuckin’ house!” Arthur bellowed, not even turning. But of course the kid didn’t listen. He ran up to him anyway.

Arthur turned, grabbed him by the shirt. “Go get Tommy.” His voice was sharp, surgical. No time for emotion. “You run like hell and you don’t stop until you find him.”

Finn nodded, wide-eyed, then took off.

More of their men were flooding out the side gate now, shouting, confused. Arthur spun to face them, barking orders with the kind of clarity only a man trained for war could manage.

“Car. Now. Bring it around!”

They scattered, and to their credit, they moved fast. The sound of tires, engines, the slam of car doors. It all happened in under a minute.

Arthur turned toward the men loading into the car, their faces hard, eyes sharp. He leveled them with a stare that brought all of them to a halt, complete silence.

“We get her back,” he growled. “Or we don’t fuckin’ come back at all.”

***

Tommy paused in lighting a cigarette when he saw Finn running towards him at full speed. His youngest brother’s face was ghost-white, panic carved into every breath.

“They’ve got her,” Finn gasped. “Arthur said to come get you. Four men showed up, grabbed her and dragged her into a truck.”

Tommy just stared at Finn. Like the world had shifted beneath his feet and he hadn’t caught up yet.

“Tell me again,” he said, voice cold and low. “All of it.”

Finn rushed through it-- the kidnapping, the delivery truck, two men down. Arthur chasing after them with the men who'd been guarding the house.

It hit Tommy hard. The rage, dread, and the failure surged up in his chest, thick and bitter. There was no fear or guilt in that moment. All he could see was the image etched into his mind of her, torn from safety, from him, by men who thought she was still someone’s to take.

And still, despite all his efforts, they got to her. The thought hollowed him out because no matter how sharp his mind, how ruthless his plans, this was different. She wasn’t part of the game anymore.

She was his. And they had taken her.

He should have told her everything. Should’ve never waited. Now the choice might not be his anymore. And that terrified him.

But terror had no place now. There was only the gun, the car, and the ruin he would leave behind.

Crossing to the desk, he pulled the drawer open. Inside it was his old Colt, its black steel catching the light. Tommy pulled it out, popped the cylinder, and quickly checked the chamber. Six rounds. Grabbing another box of ammo, he slipped it into his coat pocket. He blew out an exhale as he tried to keep the anger at bay. This was for blood.

Liam and John ran in then, both of them breathing hard.

“We followed the truck,” John said. “One of the men at the street market saw it turn off toward the edge of Small Heath. Knew where it was headed. It's an old building we've used before to store contraband.”

Tommy’s jaw flexed. “Get the car.”

Grabbing his coat, he checked the gun at his side again. Sliding the hammer back with a click that echoed like thunder through his chest. Tommy was done playing the game. Now he was coming to collect.

***

The men who took you half dragged you through a doorway and into a dark, stale room that reeked of mildew, old sweat, and something sharper beneath it, something like fear. Your heels scraped the floor as you struggled, but they didn’t care. One of them grabbed your arm so tightly it burned, while another shoved you forward until your knees nearly buckled. Polly's hat was snatched from your head, and her coat was ripped from you like they were stripping away the last of the Shelbys' protections. Now, you were unprotected.

Then you saw him. Sean O’Grady. Standing near the far wall, a vision from a nightmare with his hair slicked back, smugness clinging to him like cheap cologne. The grin he flashed you made your stomach turn.

“There she is,” he said with a slow, gleeful drawl, like he was greeting a guest at a party. “The little runaway. Shelby’s whore.”

You didn’t need to ask how he found you. Didn’t need to guess who sent the message the maid delivered to you. You recalled the panic in her eyes, her trembling hands. You knew now that she didn’t want to help him. But she had and you'd walked right into it.

Sean stepped forward, eyes bright with unhinged emotion. “You know, your mum screamed for you.” He smiled wider. “Finest beating I ever gave. And she still begged me not to touch you.”

His words cut deep. But it was the implication behind them that had you struggling to breathe. The maid’s message... It hadn’t just been bait. Some of it was true.

Your voice cracked, brittle with dread. “Is she alive?” You swallowed hard. “My mother. Did you kill her?”

Sean rolled his eyes, like the question annoyed him more than anything. “How the hell should I know?” he muttered.“Probably the Shelbys got to her. Wouldn’t be surprised if they dragged her off somewhere. I don’t care.”

You recoiled, not just from his indifference, but from the wave of helplessness crashing over you. He’d hurt her. Hurt her badly enough that even he wasn’t sure what damage he’d done. Your fists clenched, heart thudding. You weren’t just afraid anymore. You were furious.

Sean kept walking toward you, and you backed away from him until your back met a wall and you couldn't retreat further.

“But it’s time, girl.” He took another step, licking his bottom lip like he could already taste victory. “Time to deal with you. You’re no good to them anymore. But you’ll make me plenty of money.”

His meaning sank in like icewater down your spine. The door of the big hollow room shut with a heavy click and his men stood not too far behind him, smirking. And Sean started rolling up his sleeves.

Your heart hammered so loud that all of them could probably hear it. Your throat was dry. Sean’s eyes gleamed with something sick, triumphant, like he’d already won.

But you wouldn’t let him have it that easily. “I didn’t want this,” you spat, voice hoarse but unbroken.“You’re the one who wagered me like I was nothing. You’re the one who made me into this mess. Not me.”

Sean paused, just long enough to let the grin stretch wider across his face. “Aye, and now look at you.” He stepped closer, slapping you across the face hard enough that your ears rang. You felt the blood running down your nose from the strike. “Dragged through the mud. Passed around by filthy gypsies. Bet you weren’t so high and mighty when they were done with you, were you?”

You flinched, but you didn’t look away. “They never laid a hand on me.”

An image of Tommy's face floated through your mind. Yes, there's been moments he'd been ruthless with you. But he'd never hurt you. He never would.

Sean snorted. “Doesn’t matter. World thinks they did. And that’s the beauty of it. They tricked me into the wager in the first fuckin' place. But I have to admit, I like how it turned out.” Then his voice dropped, and his eyes hardened. “You think you’re better than me?” he hissed. “You think if you’d just played along, kept your head down, and didn’t fight back that you wouldn’t be here now?”

You froze.

“You brought this on yourself,” he said, stepping so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath. Grabbing the front of your dress, he tore it away from your shoulder, revealing your camisole beneath. His meaty fist punched you in the gut, doubling you over. “You shamed me. You turned your mother against me. Now you’re gonna learn what happens to girls who don’t listen.”

His hand reached for your dress again.

A heavy thud as the heavy door flew open. Then a voice, low, furious, and unmistakable. “Don’t fuckin’ touch her.”

The voice cracked through the room like thunder. You turned toward it in disbelief.

Arthur. Framed in the doorway, eyes wild with fury, chest heaving like he’d run straight through hell to get there.

Sean didn’t even flinch. He turned. Surprised, but not scared. “There he is,” Sean said, lips curling with contempt. “The dumb one. Always the one who follows orders, yeah?”

Arthur stepped into the room, slow and heavy, like a storm rolling in.

“Dragged her off, what, to impress your brother?” Sean sneered. “You never could take anything for yourself, could you? Thought you’d break her in, pass her around--”

That was it. Arthur didn’t speak. He lunged.

You barely saw the distance close, just heard the sound of the impact as Arthur’s fist collided with Sean’s jaw, snapping his head sideways and slamming him into the wall.

And then -- total chaos.

Outside the room, the crash of boots on stairs. Shouting. Gunfire. A scuffle in the hallway. Arthur’s men had come in behind him, and they were already tearing through Sean’s goons. Another shot rang out, closer now. You flinched, but Arthur didn’t even blink.

Sean was scrambling, stunned, reaching for something on the floor, maybe a weapon. Arthur kicked it aside and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him halfway off the ground.

“You smeared my good name,” he snarled, breath ragged. “Let's see how dumb you think I am when I beat the fuckin' shite outta you. You should have know better than taking on the Peaky fuckin' Blinders.”

Sean struggled, spit flying, eyes full of confusion and rage. “What? Gonna fight me over a whore now?” he spat, blood dripping from his mouth.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. Before he could answer that, another colder voice did.

“She’s no whore.”

Tommy. In the doorway now, with John and Liam flanking him, weapons drawn and expressions carved from stone.

Sean’s face went pale. Your stepfather had no fear of Arthur Shelby. He was terrified of Tommy.

***

“She’s no whore.” His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. It cut through the room like a cold blade.

Sean froze, still pinned in Arthur’s grip, face covered in sweat and blood.

Tommy stepped inside, his boots deliberate against the floorboards, the click of each step louder than the shouting still echoing down the hallway.

His eyes went to her first. Nose bloodied. Dress torn. Fear written all over her face. The sight of her twisted something in his gut. He'd put her here. It wasn't his intention for this to happen but it was on him just the same.

He forced himself to keep walking. It was time for a reckoning.

He stopped just inches from Sean, his voice low enough that only those closest could hear. “You really thought it was Arthur who had her?”

Sean didn’t answer. He couldn’t, breath was too shallow, his eyes too wide.

Tommy stepped closer, lowering his voice even more. “It was me.”

Sean blinked, confused, then utterly horrified.

“You wagered her.” A pause. “Then you beat her mother. And when you couldn’t find the girl, you came crawling after her like a dog with a bone in its teeth.” Tommy leaned in, nose to nose, his tone flat and vicious. “You raised your hand to my family. And you laid your filthy hands on something that belongs to me.” Another beat. “You’re not leaving this room walking.”

Then he turned to Arthur, nodding once. “Drop him.”

Arthur did. Sean collapsed in a bloody heap on the floor, gasping.

Tommy crouched beside him, pulled his coat back slowly, and pulled his gun. “I want you alive, O’Grady. I want you to feel it. We’re going to take your name, your money, your reputation. We’ll bleed you out slow, ruin every man who ever shook your hand.”

He stood, nodding to John and Liam. “Strip him. Cut his belt. Break every finger if he resists. He’s not leaving this room until we’re done.”

Tommy walked to her as John and Liam got to work and Arthur stood watching with a satisfied grin. O'Grady's screams were already ringing through the room.

Everything else, every ounce of vengeance and strategy and fury, vanished in that moment. She was still against the wall, trying not to collapse in on herself. Her hands trembled. Her eyes were locked on his. He crossed to her slowly, his gun still loose at his side. Holstering it, he took off his coat and draped it over her, hiding what her torn dress revealed.

He expected her to recoil, to flinch, look away. He didn't know what he would have done if she had.

But she didn’t. She stepped into him. Fell into him, really, arms clutching his sides, face pressed against his chest like she’d break without something to hold onto.

Tommy blew out a heavy exhale. As much as he wanted to stay there, to comfort her, there was still business at hand. And she didn't need to see what was coming next for Sean O'Grady. She didn't need to bear witness to what he planned to personally do to the bastard.

"Let's get you out of here, eh?" He spoke only loud enough for her to hear. "Look at me. Don't look away."

Would it be the last time she'd look at him like he was a fucking hero? Her eyes were so trusting as she let him guide her out of the room while her stepfather's screams filled the air. Her entire body was shaking and he let her take her time getting down the stairs, helping her along. At the bottom, Polly waited looking alarmed but not about what was happening in the room upstairs. Her concerned gaze was on his girl, then on him. Still, he could have sworn he saw a flash of approval there too.

From behind Polly, Rory stepped up.

"Rory?" There were tears in her voice and he let her go, watched her make her way to her brother. He closed the distance for her, wrapping his arms around her, holding Tommy's coat to her.

His girl dissolved into tears then, soaking her brother's shirt as he held onto her. His gaze met Tommy's. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby." His voice was sincere, his expression one of gratitude.

Tommy nodded, turning his attention to Polly. "Get her back to the house," he told her. "I'm not finished here."

Polly nodded. Tommy didn't miss the concern on her face as her gaze met his.

***

The car ride was silent. Polly sat beside you, her expression unreadable, but her hands folded tight in her lap. Rory rode up front with one of Tommy’s men and neither of them said a word. It wasn’t until you pulled up outside the narrow stone house nestled in the hills that reality sank in.

You were finally going to see your mother. You didn’t know what you expected. But it wasn’t this.

The safe house was dim and quiet. The air was tinged with antiseptic and the faint scent of illness. The led you to the main room, a smaller space than Tommy's house but much bigger than the one in your home. The curtains were drawn, a fire burned low in the grate. Sure enough, there was a nurse there. Her gaze on you was compassionate and she stepped aside to let you pass.

And there she your mother. Propped against a mound of pillows, her pale skin covered with bruises. One eye was swollen shut, her bottom lip split. Bandages peeked out beneath the collar of her nightdress. Your mother's breathing was shallow, her hands limp at her sides.

You couldn’t breathe. You stood frozen as you stopped at her bedside, every part of you rattling.

Part of the maid’s message had been true. She had been badly hurt.

And Tommy knew.

Polly touched your back gently. “She’s sedated,” she said. “Her pain’s too bad. The doctor comes twice a day.”

You nodded, but the words didn’t register. All you could see was the damage. All you could hear was the voice in your head asking 'Why didn’t he tell you?'

Because he knew and he was behind it.

The thought landed hard, and it didn’t let go. You stared at your mother’s bruised face, at the slow rise and fall of her chest, and suddenly it all started to piece together. Every silence, every look, and lie of omission. Tommy wouldn’t let you see her. Not when you asked. Not even when you begged. He sent Polly. He said she was “resting.”

No, she was sedated. Not recovering or stable. Just hidden.

He must have know that if you’d seen her like this, if you’d seen what Sean O’Grady had really done, you would have started asking the wrong questions. Like why the man who hurt her still walked free. Who really orchestrated the coin toss? Who gave Arthur the idea? Who set the trap, then decided to keep the prize?

You felt it like a slap to the face, harder than the blow your stepfather had delivered to you just a short while ago. The deception, the manipulation, all cloaked in kindness, in protection. In nights when you kept his bed warm. Flashes of the way he'd cared for you when you were feeling poorly flashed in your mind but you pushed those thoughts away. You couldn't think about that now and those pieces didn't fit into the puzzle you were trying to solve anyway.

And Polly… She didn’t say a word. But when you glanced her way, she cut you a look that was quick and heavy with things unsaid. A look that said she knew you were figuring it out. Her eyes softened with something like pity, but her mouth stayed in a tight line. You couldn't help feeling that she wanted to tell you more. But she couldn’t. And that’s when you realized that none of this was her call. Polly had helped carry the lie, but she hadn’t written it. That was Tommy’s hand. His orchestration. Polly was just the one picking up the pieces.

But her expression held more than guilt. It held grief. Not just for your mother. Maybe not even for you. For Tommy. Polly knew what you were about to go through. The weight of the lie. The moment the illusion shattered.

You’ll be the one who pays for it...

And as the realization settled in, your chest tightened, not just with rage, but something far more cruel.

You cared about him. God help you, after everything, some part of you still did. And now it felt like that part of you had been twisted and used. He’d held you, kissed you, took your innocence. Promised you safety and a choice.

But there hadn’t been any choice at all. He'd stolen that too. And it broke something in you just knowing that even now, even in this house, at your mother’s bedside... you were hoping to hear his voice, same as always. You were waiting for him to walk through the door.

Now you knew. Tommy Shelby played the game. Moved every piece icluding you. Held every string. And your mother, this moment, was part of the cost.

You sank to your knees beside the bed, reaching for your mother’s hand. It felt small and fragile in yours. Her fingers twitched, but she didn’t wake.

Rory hovered near the wall, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt. You could see the guilt in his eyes, same as yours.

You’d both been too late.

***

Tommy stood at the threshold of the safe house for a long moment, eyes adjusting to the dim light inside. Her back was to him, seated beside the bed, beside her mother. She was so still, looked smaller somehow. At least Polly got her cleaned up in a fresh dress and the nurse had a look at her. But when she turned and met his gaze, he saw it.

She knew.

He didn’t need words. He didn’t need Polly’s knowing look or Rory’s tension or her absence in his house. It was there in her eyes. The betrayal and disbelief. The break.

He stepped inside slowly. Careful. Not like Tommy Shelby, the man people moved for. More like someone approaching the edge of something he couldn’t afford to fall into.

Without a word, she stood and walked right past him. She didn't say a word, didn't look at him. But he followed her, because he always would. Down the narrow hall, to the small bedroom Polly gave her to sleep in. She opened the door, stepped inside, and he shut the door behind him.

That's when she finally turned. And she hit him full force with the storm that he saw brewing in her eyes.

Her voice broke the silence first. “Did you do this?”

Four words, soft and soaked in grief. She didn’t need to clarify.

Tommy knew what she meant. The bet. The apartment. The lie. Her mother. All of it.

His jaw tensed. His hands curled at his sides.

Tommy nodded.

That’s when she started hitting him. No slaps or theatrics. She pushed him, hard, fists to his chest, and kept going. One blow after another, sobs shaking her body as her fists found his ribs, his collarbone, his heart.

“You lied to me!” she cried. “You took everything--everything!--and you said I had a choice!” Another hit. “My mum... Tommy, she’s... look at her! She’s broken. She'll never be the same. And it’s because of you!”

He didn’t move or flinch. He just took it. Didn’t lift a hand to stop her because he deserved it. He felt every word she threw at him like a blade beneath his skin.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “I never meant for her to be hurt.”

She let out a broken sound that wasn’t quite a laugh or a sob. “But you didn’t stop it either.”

He nodded again and didn’t offer excuses. He had none. His hands trembled at his sides. Not from fear, but from restraint. All he wanted to do was hold her. To tell her that none of it--none of it--had gone how he planned. But how could he say that when the plan itself had been rotten from the start?

She pressed both palms flat against his chest, not hitting anymore. Just leaning her weight into him like she couldn’t hold herself up.

And still, he couldn't bring himself to touch her. He just stood there.

She didn’t pull away from him. But her voice came again, quiet this time. Like it hurt too much to feel anything else.

“We can’t stay here, Mum and I.” She didn’t look up. “Not in Small Heath. Not in that house.”

There was no name spoken, but they both knew who she meant. Her stepfather who wouldn't be troubling her ever again. But Tommy knew it wasn't the right time to mention that.

“I know what people must be saying.” Her voice cracked again. “About the wager. About me. About what happened after.” She gave a bitter shake of her head. “You think I don’t know what that makes me now? Even though you stopped him. Even though saved me. That rumor’s going to follow me everywhere.”

She stepped back, arms wrapping around herself now, like she was trying to hold herself together. “I can’t go back to my old life. And I can’t drag my mother from house to house while I try to find work.” A pause. Her throat bobbed. “She can’t care for herself right now. I can’t leave her. And no one... no one is going to hire me now.”

It was then that she met his gaze. Eyes rimmed red. Lashes clumped with tears. But she wasn't defeated, he still saw the fight there. “So tell me, Tommy. What happens now?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at her, absorbing the pain he’d caused and feeling the fury she hadn’t run out of yet. But her strength hadn’t broken, even now.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “You’ve got a home with me. Your mum too. I’d make sure she's cared for.” A pause. “But I know you won’t take that from me. Not now.”

Something shifted in him then. The regret twisted sharper, deeper, but so did his resolve. He stepped forward. Then again. She took a step back but he kept coming until her back met the wall. He didn’t need to touch her. His presence filled the space between them like coiled heat.

His voice was quiet, but edged in steel. “You’re wrong about one thing. You do have a choice.”

Her breath caught.

“You can take your mother and go. I won’t stop you. I won’t look for you,” He stepped even closer, his breath now mingling with hers. “Or you can stay.” Another beat. “But if you stay, you’re mine. Not for show. Not for shelter.” His eyes darkened, but his voice softened. “As my wife, who'll give me a family. Not just in name, but in truth.”

She stared at him, frozen, lips parted as if she couldn’t decide how to react.

“Move your mother into my house. I don’t care.” A slight shake of his head, almost a bitter laugh. “I’ll even ask Polly to help decorate the bloody room.” Tommy glanced down, then back at her, exposed in a way he never let himself be. His voice broke, just a little. “But if you stay... if you stay, you’re mine.”

Planting his hands on the wall on either side of her, he caged her in and she let him. She stared at him like she didn’t know whether to run or fall apart. They were almost nose to nose, but he wasn't touching her. If she stayed, it would be her choice. Not his move. Not his manipulation. Hers.

And it was killing him. He saw the emotions warring behind her eyes. Hurt, anger, disbelief… and something else. Something that hadn’t quite died yet.

When she spoke, her voice cracked through the silence. “Why now?”

Tommy blinked. It wasn’t the question he expected.

“You had me. From the beginning,” she said, eyes glinting with betrayal. “Why wait?”

He almost looked away. Almost.

“I thought I could control it.” The words left him like confession. “I thought I control you and how far it would all go."

Her laugh was sharp and bitter, drawing blood. “And now?”

He looked at her like it might be the last time. “Now I’m asking.”

Her arms were crossed. Her body tense. But she didn’t leave and she wasn't pushing him away.

“And if I say yes?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Tommy’s pulse thudded like a war drum. “Then everything I have is yours. But I’ll expect the same.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Still surrounding her, but now feeling like he’d just stepped off a cliff. If she walked out that door, if she took her mother and never looked back, he wouldn’t stop her. But he’d never be the same.

He watched her, still unsure if he’d already lost her. The silence was thick, too many words unsaid between them—but one kept clawing at the back of his throat.

“Did he hurt you?” The question came low. Careful. Like it hurt to speak.

She hesitated and that was answer enough. But then, too softly she said, “I’ve had worse.”

It hit him like a gut punch. Not because she meant it to or wanted sympathy. But because it was true. It wasn't a brave statement. She was saying it because that was her reality.

He looked down, jaw clenching, breath shallow. What the hell could he say? That he was sorry? That he should’ve gotten there sooner? That she never should’ve been in that situation in the first place?

He’d built the trap and lit the fuse. Even if he didn’t plan for that, he’d been the architect of everything that led her to it. And now here she was, his girl, saying she’s had worse. Like that was some kind of comfort. It didn’t comfort him, it wrecked him.

Tommy whispered her name against her lips before he kissed her, keeping it light, enticing. For a second, she kissed him back, but it was hesitant. At the same time, her hands pressed against his chest, like her mind was doing battle with her body, her heart.

She broke the kiss, confusion bleeding into her expression. "What are you doing?"

Tommy didn't budge. "Give me tonight," he whispered.

She shook her head, trying to push him back. "No," she said, tears pooling in her eyes. "I..."

"Tonight," he whispered, his lips caressing hers again. "That's all. Then the choice of whether you ever see me again or not is yours."

Saying it that way wasn't fair and he knew it. He knew what she'd been through today and how wrecked emotionally she had to be. All of it was on him and he didn't need anyone to explain that. But it was probably his last chance to be with her and he had to try.

Leaning in, he kissed her, soft and slow, his body still caging her to the wall. When she didn't stop him, he deepened the kiss, committing the taste of her to memory. Her hands clutched his shirt, and she was shaking.

It was nothing for him to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to the narrow bed. He'd wanted to go slow, but desperation had him going at full speed in a lusty haze. Tommy needed her, now.

When he lowered himself over her, he took her face in his hands, saw the tracks of her tears catching the faint light from the streetlamp. He hated them. Brushing them away with his tumbs, he claimed her lips in a demanding kiss. She let him, her tongue sliding against his as her hands slid up his chest to wrap around his neck. Her touch wasn't as careful as it had been, but bolder now.

He chained kisses across her cheek to the slim column of her neck, his hands roaming possessively over her body. He used everything he knew she liked against her. His mouth teased her just below her ear before blazing a trail down to her chest. Her fingers slid into his hair as he slid a hand beneath her, unzipping the back of her dress and hauling it down her body with all haste. Her camisole ripped in his hands as he pulled it off her roughly. He got his hands and mouth on her breasts and he didn't stop until her back was arching, a plea for more. Her thighs clamped around one of his and he knew she was looking for friction, looking for relief from the fire he was building in her body. Tommy was all too happy to grind his thigh into the heated center of her, loving the way her lips parted and the chorus of needy gasps and breaths he pulled from her.

Now that his vision had adjusted to the darkness, he saw the bruises all over her body. With care, he pulled down her slip, her drawers. His rough hands smoothed up the insides of her knees, up her trembling thighs. When he reached the apex, he claimed that tender part of her with his mouth. Shyness usually left her hesitant about the act, but she wasn't stopping him now. Tommy loved the taste of her, the way her thighs quivered around his face. Wrapping his arms around her thighs, he held her open, drank his fill. Her hands were restless, pawing at the bedding, at his head. She struggled in his hold, her back arching as he pushed her towards the edge. Tightnening his hold, he doubled down on her efforts, wanting her to come on his face, his tongue.

And she did, breathy cries filling the room.

She was breathless and trembling above him and he wasn't about to let her recover. Tommy stipped off his jacket and dropped it off the side of the bed. The only other thing he did was taking the time to work his belt open, push down his trousers. He couldn't wait anymore and he slid right into her, slow and deep. Despite everything she'd been through, she was still warm, wet for him. He dropped tender kisses over her face as he started to move, holding her to him. When her knees came up, her thighs cradling his hips, his heart squeezed in his chest. When her arms wrapped around him, he had to fight not to come. Not until she got hers.

They moved together in that timeless dance, and he didn't want it to ever end. Her gaze met his as he loved her, hoping what he read there was the same love he felt for her. He choose to pretend it was. He'd done most everything wrong and he had plenty of regrets. But he had to believe some small part of her felt something for him. He didn't know if she'd ever forgive him, or even if he'd ever see her again. So he was making one last plea, without words.

The first time she came on his cock surprised him. Tommy wasn't pounding into her or racing to the finish line. He was dragging it out, closing his eyes to savor those flutters around his cock, the way her fingers tugged at his hair. As his own end approached, he moved faster with thrusts that would have pushed her up the bed without his weight anchoring her. Her breath came in a rush like she'd been running as he felt her winding up again. Her nails were tiny knives down his back, carving into his skin. He hoped those trails were bleeding, that they formed scars. He wanted some personal reminder of her on his body so he could know for certain that she'd been real and for a short time, she'd been his.

The second time she came, he captured her cries in his mouth, a demanding kiss before he went over the edge with her, pumping himself into her like he wasn't going to stop. She took him, took all of it. Both of them struggled to breathe when he was done and he collapsed over her, his head resting on her chest. Her heart was flying, her legs still clinging to his hips. Tommy didn't move, didn't pull out of her. He just listened to the sound of her heart, enjoyed her gentle fingers in his hair.

Neither of them spoke as they lay there wrapped in each other. A tear slid from the corner of his eye, dropping onto her skin. Tommy didn't want the night to end, didn't want to be parted from her.

Before dawn, he rose from the bed, pulling the covers over her as he did and smiling at the way she again moved over into the warm space he'd occupied. Tommy dressed and as he promised her, he left to start the day. He left so she could make her choice.

And he would honor the decision she made, but he was almost sure he knew what that decision would be. And it would leave a hole in his heart.

***

The betting shop was unusually quiet the next morning. Tommy sat behind his desk, cigarette burning slow between his fingers, untouched. The ash tray was already half-full and he hadn’t lit a fresh one in twenty minutes.

He hadn’t slept at all, he didn't even try. He'd just stayed with her, not wanting to miss a minute he had left.

He told himself he had to start his day, it was business and the work had to be done. There was loose ends that needed tying.

But that was a lie.

Tommy hadn’t heard the car leave the safe house. He’d already been gone. He wasn't about watch her go.

But now, the silence was unbearable.

The click of the front door pulled him out of his thoughts. Tommy glanced up as John stepped in, jaw tight, expression grim.

“She’s gone?” Tommy asked, even though he already knew.

John nodded once. “Yeah. An uncle came for her and the mum early this morning. Mother’s brother. He came up from Ipswich.”

The name made Tommy flinch. Ipswich. Far enough to forget him. Far enough that she could pretend he'd never existed.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. He didn’t say anything. He couldn't bring himself to ask if she left a message or if she even looked back.

He didn’t want to know.

John hovered for a beat. “Rory’s outside.”

Tommy looked up. That, he hadn’t expected.

“Wants a word, if you’re willing.”

Tommy nodded once, then rubbed a hand down his face, trying to pull himself together before the boy came in. When the door creaked open again, Rory stepped in. His shoulders were squared, face composed, like he was bracing for something.

He just looked at Tommy. “Am I still welcome?”

Tommy stared at him. Of all the outcomes he’d prepared himself for, this wasn’t one of them.

“You’re not going with them?” Tommy asked, fighting to keep any emotion out of his tone.

Rory shook his head. “My uncle barely knows me. My sister went because of our mum. She’s worried about her. But me?” He shrugged. “I’d just be in the way.”

He didn’t say the rest. That maybe his sister left because of him. Because of the mess Tommy made. But the boy was giving him a straight answer, and Tommy respected that. Even if it twisted the knife.

Deep down, Tommy knew the truth. He’d lost her. But he still had this. Still had the piece of her she’d left behind. And he wasn’t above keeping it.

“If the offer’s still open,” Rory said, “I’d like to accept.”

Tommy looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. He rose to walk around the desk, clapping a hand on Rory's shoulder.

“You’re a Blinder now.”

The words landed with weight, not ceremony or promise. And as he looked at the lad, young, sharp, and full of fire, he couldn't help thinking she'll come looking for her brother one day.

And when she did, he’d be waiting.

A/N: It's not the end. Just the end of the first act.

@outlanderuniverseoutlanderuniverse @alyssajunellealyssajunelle @gothic-chinadoll @sparda1234 @mrsnms @alexakeyloveloki @theinheriteddutchess @wiseyouthingluencer @lovinglimerence

#The Arrangement #Peaky Blinders #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Cillian Murphy #John Shelby #Polly Gray #Finn Shelby #Arthur Shelby #Innocent reader

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fuckingstrange · 10 months ago

Text

Wrecked

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WARNINGS: PWP/Porn without plot, straight into the smut, rough sex, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, overstimulation (r receiving), this is incredibly gay, anal sex, also hand job?, Idk how to fucking tag shit right I'm so sorry, Pet names (Baby, Good boy) used to reader bc no y/n will ever grace my page, dirty talk?, A dash of aftercare, SMUT!!!, no beta we make typos like grandpa using speech to text

WORDS: 725?+

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x m!reader

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A/n: Omg two fics in like one week??? Or two days?? I feel like I've returned to my Christmas Ficlist days...

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The electricity that runs through your body feels like less than death but more than life, each slam of Hotch’s hips against you stinging like a swat with a spoon, but feeling amazing when he hammers into that sweet spot. He's been going at it for nearly two hours, dragging as many orgasms out of you as he can.

Crying and trembling, voice hoarse as you unleash moan after moan, cry after cry, he still doesn't stop. Pumping your cock with his free hand, covered in the loads of cum from your three previous orgasms, you swear your heart could stop at any moment.

The pounding in your chest is as rough as the pounding against your ass, his own groans echoing in your ear as he mumbles sweet nothings, pure praises for lasting so long.

“Doing so- so fucking good, Lookin’ so pretty like this. All- All wrecked, so loud for me.” Hotch’s voice barely breaks through over the ringing in your ears.

He leans up, having originally been caging over you with his head dipped towards your shoulder, grabbing onto one of your legs with his free hand to push it out further, making him reach even deeper. Managing to move even faster, even quicker and even rougher, he slams into you like this is the last time he's gonna ever get the pleasure of fucking you.

Your moans have fallen into short gasps, low pants being exhaled beside a whine warning him of your next impending orgasm. A shaky hand lifts to grab at his upper arm, blunt nails digging in to leave crescent moon shapes within the skin as his thick cock stabs at your prostate even quicker than before, his hips having found the perfect angle to hit it each time.

“Aaron, Aar-’n,” You practically chant as he continues to build you towards another release. Your trembling gasps don't deter him, the sound of you calling out for him instead just encouraging him to move faster.

Hotch has to refrain from biting down on his lower lip, having already made it bleed before when he tried holding off his first orgasm. Bringing himself to a second, and you to a forth, he puts all his effort into helping you get through it.

“Right here, I'm right here, baby.” He huffs out, head lolling back as he lets out a few moans of his own. “Come on, You've got this. One last time for me, just one more.”

Becoming boneless beneath him, your hand falls from his arm to drop on the bed beside you, taking all he has to offer at this point. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him, vision blurred but not enough that you can't see just how gorgeous he looks above you. It's enough to make your breath catch as your cock pulses, spitting out what left you have to offer as you choke out a cry.

Hotch gives a last few thrusts before he's coming, pressing as deep in you that he can reach. His body shudders as his hand on your cock falters, feeling it twitch and pulse in his hand as cum covers his fingers and drips onto your stomach.

Falling forward to hover over you again, the hand on your hip slides up to rub your side, careful to avoid spreading the semen around on your stomach. He takes a good few minutes to regain his composure before kissing your cheek, asking “Do you want me to get a bath going? Or just wipe you off?”

You'd probably be able to offer more than just a weakly whispered “Rag,” as an answer if you weren't so spent, eyes already trying to fall shut from how exhausted you are after being pushed to the limit.

Hotch doesn't pull away until he can feel you soften in his hand, reaching down to help pull himself out while kissing over each shut eyelid. He slips out of the bed, quickly heading to the bathroom to grab a rag out from the sink’s cabinet and wet it with warm water before returning.

Sitting down beside you he reaches over to wipe the cum off your softened cock and stomach, watching you relax further into the bed from the warm cloth. By the time he's finished wiping you up, he can already hear you snoring.

#Like ignore that I used a ss from his most traumatic episode...#I apologize...#aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x male reader #hotboxed fanfiction #Aaron hotchner smut

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starrihan · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/starrihan/778415657483190272/scenario-a-nerdy-girl-who-is-secretly-obsessed?source=share Give me part two or I'll kidnap you? 🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

Ah listen to me. Maybe part two should have aftercare too🌝! Taesan will hug you and say "no need to cry, I won't leave you, pretty,"

Forgive me because I'm crazy 😔🙏

You’re forgiven because I’m also crazy? (but kidnap me if you must i will not object)

Idk something about mean dom! Taesan making you cry and then being so nice and caring afterwards is delicious 😋

Also are you the same anon that requested the original post??

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

༄ ༄ ༄

You're shaking in the bathroom, still shocked at the events that just occurred. You frantically clean up your mess, the embarrassment washing over you again as you recall the way you came all over his fingers. Looking in the mirror you gasp at your current state. Hair frizzy and messed up, mascara running down your cheeks and eyeliner smudged in the corners.

You quickly dry your still-wet face and use the napkins to get rid of any smudging, trying to salvage what's left of your makeup by patting the surrounding foundation onto the stained areas. You try to calm your nerves but it fails as you find yourself slightly shaking as you walk back into the large lecture hall. You look around, finding Taesan already staring at the door, the smirk on his face as he keeps eye contact with you a little overwhelming.

༄ ༄ ༄

Your nervousness never settles as the clock ticks seem louder than usual, serving as a constant reminder at how agonizingly slow time seemed to be going by. You were nervous for what Taesan wanted from you after class, but you were even more nervous at the fact that you've been growing increasingly needier as time went on, panties ruined.

The sound of students closing their laptops and zipping up their bags snapped you out of your thoughts. You quickly packed up your things, not that there was any point in bringing them out anyways since you didn't even pay attention. Hopefully today's material wouldn't be on your next exam.

You take your time, waiting for everyone to leave the hall before making your way down the ramp, scanning the hall for Taesan. You furrow your brows as you see no sign of anyone outside the classroom, your need being replaced by irritation.

"Did you think I left? That wouldn't be very nice of me, would it?"

His voice behind you made you jump, noticing that his hands look wet and blushing as you realized that he just came from the bathroom, your neediness clouding your judgement. You turn around, shaking your head as you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"You're awfully quiet now that you're not moaning my name."

You burn up even more, not knowing how to act around the one person that's made you cum more times than you know, more times than he knows. But his cockiness just brought something out of you that you couldn't figure out. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, feisty are we?"

"Shut up..."

He chuckles, getting close to your face, lips just barely ghosting over your own.

"And if I don't? Then what? Will you take away the honor of letting me hear your sweet voice moan my name again?"

You look away, not being able to stare at his captivating eyes any longer.

"C'mon sweetheart, I will get you to moan my name again."

He grabs your wrist, smooth but gentle as he walks you to what you assume is his apartment building. Once inside his room, you can't help but stare at all of his posters. Black walls adorned with posters of My Chemical Romance, Mötley Crüe and other bands that you didn't recognize.

A yelp leaves your body as he suddenly appears behind you, hands wrapping around your figure, sliding the backpack off of your shoulders.

"Relax baby, why are you so nervous?'

The way he makes you feel, how your burns up at just the slightest touch by him. None of this felt real.

"This is my first time ever doing something like this... with someone I've just met."

"For someone who you just met you sure acted like you knew me, at least well enough to moan my name in the bathrooms for anyone to hear."

"Will you let that go?"

You scoffed, getting tired of the constant waves of embarrassment crashing over you.

"I can't. Usually the girls that want me say it to my face. You're... interesting. Maybe you're a stalker for all I know."

You can't deny how he must've felt, knowing you'd probably feel weirded out if you heard a stranger moaning your name in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for anyone, esepcially you, to hear me being—"

"—a pervert?"

Like a mallet to a gong, you feel your heart pang in your chest. The idea of being called a pervert by your crush was the ultimate form of humiliation, the tears flowing from your eyes instantly.

"I— I'm s-so... sorry, I— I can't believe I—"

But he didn't seem angry or weirded out. Instead, he walked over to you, placing a hand on your waist before leaning in to close the gap between you. You breath hitches in your throat, unable to process his actions, eyes fluttering shut.

"Don't be embarrassed baby, I liked it."

He says after pulling away, diving back in to kiss along your jaw and neck. His actions now are much gentler than they were before, hands slowly moving down to cup your ass under your skirt. You gasp, moving your head to the side to allow him more room to continue his kisses on your neck, hands brushing through his hair as you pull him in closer, your front pressing against his hardening length.

"Fuck Y/N,"

He growls into your neck. He moves one hand to your clothed clit, smirking into your neck when he feels how soaked you are through your panties, your almost silent moans like candy to his ears.

"Oh you must really like me,"

The tears are still steadily flowing down your cheeks, not able to conceal your shame. But the more humiliated you feel, the more turned-on you find yourself getting, and he notices it too with the way you grind your hips into his fingers.

He leads you to the bed, lips never leaving your neck as you feel the back of your legs hit the bed. He instructs you to lay down, laughing as you try to wipe away the tears. He takes his pants off before kneeling on the ground, pulling you down towards his mouth. His fingers ghost over your pussy, his breath hot against your core.

"What a crybaby. But you like it when I shame you, don't you? You like when I call you a little pervert, huh?"

He moves your panties to the side, pressing his fingers against your now-exposed slit and rubbing along your folds. You violently shake your head 'no.'

"Oh yeah? Then why are you so restless every time I say something to embarrass you? You like crying for me? You like it when I humiliate you."

You continue to shake your head, but you know he's right and he knows he's right, watching as you squirm at the contact.

"Should I give my little crybaby what she wants? Or should I punish her for being a little creep who cums to the thought of me, a stranger, when she's alone?"

Again, shaking your head no, you throw your head back when his lips touch your clit in a gentle kiss, praising the small contact for keeping you sane. He moves your panties to the side, teasing your clit with his tongue as his fingers swirl over your sopping hole.

"T-Taesan..."

You moan and it's like a band snaps within him, pushing two fingers past your walls and sucking on your clit like its a ring pop (😉). Arching your back off of the bed, you cry out his name even louder, tears flowing from raging pleasure instead of shame. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, but he notices, pulling out before you can release.

The salty taste from your tears permeates your mouth, choking back sobs as he rips your orgasm away from you. But he stands up, quickly discarding his boxers and your panties before pulling you close by your thighs, lining up his dick with your entrance. He teases you more leaving you to grip the sheets, white-knuckling them as he slowly pushes himself in you. The sigh of relief you let out brings a smile to both of your faces, both entirely too worked up.

He feels your walls pulsing around him, relishing in the feeling before thrusting slowly at first, waiting for you to adjust before picking up the pace.

“Fuck… Taesan…”

“Shit princess, you sound like an angel with my name rolling off your tongue,”

He grunts between thrusts causing you to whimper and whine for him. He takes the chance to lean down, scooping you up to press another kiss to your lips. You moan into his mouth, allowing him to explore with his tongue. You take note of how strong he actually, something that’s not very noticeable about him upon first glance. The constant flutter of your walls around him let him know that you’re close, slowing down his thrusts.

“Tell me, do you think you deserve to cum after being a freak in the bathroom? After shamelessly grinding into my hands when I was degrading you? Don’t you think you should at least apologize?”

You try your best to form words for an apology, but the only thing on your mind is him, the words lost on your tongue as his slow yet deep thrusts cloud your mind.

“Seems that you’ve gone stupid from my questions,”

He tsks but speeds up again, watching as you cry harder for him. With a couple more thrusts, you’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know. Jolts running up and down your body as you continue to cum for another 20 seconds, hitting even harder since he denied you of it earlier. He quickly pulls out of you, dropping your thighs and stroking himself a few more times, finishing on your skirt.

“I bet you won’t even wash it when you get home. You’ll probably use it to get off again, am I right? My little perverted girl.”

You felt like you were going to pass out from heat exhaustion, the heat of your embarrassment and shame continuing to run through you at his constant degrading. You find it in yourself to sit up, but harder being able to hold it together, the overwhelming feelings of pleasure, guilt and shame washing over you and culminating in a waterfall of tears pouring from your eyes.

“I— I’m really sorry Taesan… for being a creep and moaning for you in the school bathrooms. I feel so ashamed and I understand if you think I’m weird and gross. I can leave, I—“

He leans over you, shushing you by placing his finger over your mouth.

“Shh, no need to cry pretty, I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

He looks at you, wiping the never-ending tears off your face.

“It’s really okay, I’m kinda perverted myself for liking it and walking in on you if you think about it.”

He laughs, making you feel a little better as you start to smile with him. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, grabbing tissues to help clean you up.

“And I’m sorry about the skirt, I can wash it if you’d like.”

You wince at his touch, but let him clean you as you sit up. Once the both of you are fully cleaned off, he stands you up, giving you a hug, much to your confusion.

“I don’t really know you Y/N, but this was the best sex I’ve had with a stranger.”

You relax into his touch, hugging him back.

“Thank you? I guess I can say the same, I’ve never had sex with a stranger before.”

He laughs at your honesty, pulling away and smiling down at you.

“We should hang out again, like this or just as friends. I mean, perverts should hang out with other perverts, right?”

And you slap his chest, still embarrassed about the whole situation.

“I’m not sleeping with you again.”

You tease, but you both know this isn’t the last you’re going to be seeing of each other.

༄ ༄ ༄

Zoo wee mama

I did not expect to add this much crying and degradation but, oops? (take a shot every time the words 'embarrassed,' 'shame,' or its variants are used) this was longer than the original post but I will be thinking about this for the rest of the night, thank you

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

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zandicksz · 5 months ago

Note

webttore x reader smut? :D i don't really have a plot in mind I just wanna have sex with him... also afab reader pls!!!

webttore my love

CW: messy sex, on the table, drool and saliva mentioned, somewhat subby webttore, getting caught (by original), segment is called Epsilon, somewhat established relationship, pet names (honey, darling), mentions of webttore being biomechanical,

the mechanical hum of all sorts of machinery echoed throughout the main parts of the laboratory, bouncing off of the steel walls while other iterations of Dottore worked, doing their assigned tasks for today, it was a mundane practice but one that they had all grown accustomed to over the multiple centuries they've spent 'rotting' or as the original likes to call it, 'working', it really makes for a dull work environment.

not when you're around of course.

ever since you came along productivity and morale has been quite high, tensions have been lowered and segments are less likely to bicker and argue over meaningless things about who's beaker is who's. with someone to seperate them of course, you.

earlier today, a segment, Epsilon, had gotten into a spat with the original, you don't remember what exactly but he was almost disassembled, so the most reasonable thing you thought to do was to just time him out, put him in an isolation room.

said isolation room was just one of the barren sleeping quarters the original had, a simple bed and a single light with a wooden table against the opposite wall of the bed, it was..normal, atleast.

"what a ridiculous statement!" the segment growls, "I don't get how hard it is for him to understand sometimes! it's simply that—" he began rambling on as you sat next to him on the bed, being his personal therapist for the moment as you did for all the segments in a bitter mood.

"honey.." you were half awake, your peaceful slumber was awoken by the earlier spat between Epsilon and your darling, the original. "all of you have different perspectives, yes? that's why all of you are different, because none of you see things from the same way. that's why Zandik disagreed with you, because he sees things another way from yours.." you tried to hold back a yawn but, eventually rested your head on his lap and let it out.

"come here, I have..work in the morning and I really need some sleep, okay? just..lay down beside me."

how it turned from gentle kissing on the bed, slowly sliding each other's clothes off, and eventually reaching the table, you don't know.

"Epsilon wait!" you cried out, it's been your nth orgasm and it's getting messy at this point, you can feel the mix of your fluids and his dripping all over the floor as you're bent over the desk, the chair laying haphazardly on the floor after you two had knocked it down trying to reach the table.

"nnh- just..just stay still- fuck!" he groans, he didn't pant or breathe like a regular human but his whimpers still left his lips, that's one of the things you loved about him.

not that you could think about it much, of course. his thrusts were rough and the gloved hands on your waist squeezed so hard you could already sense the trouble you'll be in with the original.

he kept his messy, messy rhythm as he was simply just chasing his own pleasure, going over to press his chest to your back and slot his face into the crook of your neck, gently licking a streak onto your face while he moaned into your ear, none his high pitched whimpers and moans were left unheard by you.

he leaned over a bit more, putting a leg on the table as he wrapped his arms around your body, one his hands going to fondle your breasts while the other helplessly and amaturely played with your clit, his whines picking up in pitch as he tried to make you cum before him, moaning into your ear while his thrusts got even sloppier and rougher.

this surely couldn't be good for his internal core, you could feel the heat it was generating inside his chest and how he looked like he was overheating but he didn't really seem to notice, not noticing the cooling liquid in his body that acted like blood was slowly starting to warm, not noticing how much he was pushing his limits just for you.

his mouth was hanging open, moaning and crying about how good it feels while he squeezed your breast, his whole body pinning you down onto the table while he got somewhat faster, one of his legs up gave him better access to your body, allowing him to hit every, single, one of your precious little pleasure points inside of you, the head of his sensitive silicone cock throbbed and ached as it just kept pushing against your womb over, and over again. the table rocked

as the table rocked underneath his thrusts, he grut his teeth before crying out, "nngh! hah- fuck! w- cumming! cumming I'm gonna cum!" he cries out into your ear, putting his whole body weight on you as he releases something way warmer than usual, his length aching as he stayed inside of you, groaning with an almost drunk expression, you panted underneath him, your eyes half lidded as you tried to recover from your plentiful orgasms.

you reached up a hand to gently cup his face, your breath slowing down as he practically was almost limp on top of you, causing you to overheat as well, how strange that you can still feel that sensation in a place as cold as snezhnaya with no clothes on.

"Darling please get up." you sigh,"no." he pouts, squirming his hips to reach even deeper inside of you, he doesn't experience this everyday, so of course he'll savor it.

your eyes were beginning to shut, the exhaustion from earlier catching up to you as you rested flatly against the table, letting them close for just a moment. the serenity in the room was soothing, it was quiet, cold and you were in the arms of an iteration of the man you love most.

the silence was broken as the door suddenly slid open with a hiss. "I assume you've taught Epsilon his less—" he looked up from the clipboard he was holding, his mask on but you could still see the scowl starting to form on his face. this wasn't good, for either of you.

"..oops."

#x . smut #√. zandik notes #dottore #dottore x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #il dottore

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greensagephase · 2 years ago

Text

Double Trouble (One -Shot) Part Two

Pairing: 2099 Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader X Variant Miguel O'Hara Summary: You thought it was a one-time thing, but you were wrong. Word Count: 3,194 Warnings: Minor plot (?) after the first part; oral (both f and m receiving); fingering; biting; lots of kissing; p in v; unprotected sex; handjob; blowjob; nipples played and sucked with (f); let me know if I'm missing something, not really used to writing smut tbh; 2099 Miguel goes as Miggy from now on while reader's OG Miguel is called Miguel; MINORS DNI, please!! A/N: This is a part two to Double Trouble (One Shot) as it was requested by @veyveys I hope you like this!! Thank you for requesting it!! :) Masterlist

You thought it was a one-time thing for many reasons. First, the three of you were drunk that night. Second, you blamed your eagerness on the fact that 2099 Miguel looks almost identical to your Miguel, so it made sense that you found him attractive and even desired him.

Third, your Miguel would probably not agree with it once he was sober. Right? You know the two of you have plans to marry at one point, sooner rather than later even if there’s no rush. So, surely your Miguel was going to agree that it was fun but that was it. It’s not like he’s possessive of you but still, you thought he wouldn’t want it to happen again considering it was with one of his counterparts.

Fourth, there’s 2099 Miguel. You have learned so much about him over the last few months. You know about his past; about losing a child he basically adopted and about his duties as the leader of the Spider Society, something you’ve always asked him about as you find it fascinating. You have a good understanding of his personality, too, despite only knowing him for a few months. He’s more serious but sweet and caring nonetheless, and though he never showed it before that night, for some reason 2099 Miguel also struck you as a possessive man. A man that wouldn’t want to share a woman with another man. So, you guessed that 2099 Miguel would also move past it.

You carried on with your day that morning after both Miguel’s fucked you again, blaming that morning’s moment to leftover hormones from the night before, knowing that what happened was great - more than great, really - but that was it, as you believed that everyone would agree it was best to leave it in the past but oh, you were so wrong. While you slept peacefully between them that first night, passed out after so many rounds of getting fucked, the men talked and an agreement was struck.

And that agreement is how you find yourself in your current position. You're on your back on a king size bed in a penthouse bought by Miggy, or 2099 Miguel. The three of you agreed that calling both Miguel's "Miguel" was getting confusing, so you suggested "Miggy" since you've never given your original Miguel a nickname, making it easier on everyone. And God, Miggy loved it as soon as it left your lips. He hates nicknames but when it came from your pretty mouth, he nodded instantly, especially because it was agreed that you’d be the only one to call him that. It was part of the agreement, the same one that has allowed you to be in the position you’re in now.

You arch your back in pleasure and moan loudly while you lay on the bed, big enough to fit the three of you comfortably, with your legs over Miggy's shoulders as his large hands keep your thighs open so his hungry mouth can keep devouring your pussy.

"Mig-Miggy!" you cry out in pleasure as you feel his tongue flatten against your clit, moving especially slow to tease you before he glides it back down your slit, licking up your arousal. You whimper in pleasure and reach with one hand for his hair, sliding your fingers into his already messy locks. You grip it, earning yourself a low growl from him.

"So sensitive. So responsive," he murmurs against your flesh as he dips his tongue into you. "Like always," he adds looking up with a smirk as he catches sight of you arching your back, eyes closed and lips parted in pleasure. The sight alone makes his already hard cock throb with need. He can’t wait to be inside you, buried deeply as you take him like a good girl. “Mierda,” he groans just at the thought as he keeps eating out your wet pussy.

You move your free hand to the side, finding Miguel's hand and holding it. You open your eyes as Miggy continues to eat you out, finding Miguel stroking himself as he watches for a few minutes. You gasp and moan as you feel Miggy slip a finger inside you.

"Fuck - yes," you breath out closing your eyes again as he begins to slide his large finger in and out of you.

Your breast is cupped suddenly before you feel warmth and wetness on your nipple. Moaning, you open your eyes to find Miguel sucking on it gently, letting his tongue swirl over the sensitive bud with experience.

"Look how pretty you look, hermosa. So pretty, getting your pussy fingered, getting your nipples sucked," Miguel says in between licking and sucking your nipples.

"So beautiful," Miggy says as he adds another finger, further stretching you out, preparing you for the night. "So fucking beautiful, bonita."

You grip the sheets as your men pleasure you. And yes, your men. It’s no longer your Miguel and the other Miguel. They’re both yours and in return, you are theirs, and theirs alone.

“Yes, yes - I - fuck,” you say with closed eyes, unable to form a coherent sentence as Miggy fucks you with his fingers, feeling his speed increase as Miguel sucks and plays with your breasts. You whimper softly when you feel Miggy’s mouth on your inner thigh, licking softly before he bites your skin, gently as always but with enough pressure that it will leave a mark and show by tomorrow morning. With everything happening, you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your climax just from Miggy’s fingers and Miguel’s mouth.

Miggy can’t help but groan as he feels you squeeze his fingers, knowing you’re close to your climax. He pulls them out at the same time Miguel releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop, eliciting a loud and whiny whimper from you that just serves to arouse the men even more at your neediness.

“Always so needy, bonita,” Miggy teases as he bites your other inner thigh before licking the area to not only ease the slight pain he’s caused you but to get a taste of your lovely skin. “But I don’t want you to come like that. Not around my fingers, you know that,” he says sternly before he brings his fingers to his mouth, obscenely licking your wetness from them. “Fuck, I’ll never get over how amazing you taste, bonita.”

With Miggy tasting your juices, Miguel reaches over, sliding two fingers over your slit and collecting your wetness to taste it himself. He groans.

“So sweet, hermosa,” he tells you. “Treating your men to your sweetness, hm? Love giving us a taste, don’t you?” he adds as he keeps licking his long fingers.

You watch as they suck their fingers with eyes closed, lost in the haze of your taste. You can’t help but find the view arousing as they surround you, sucking your arousal off their fingers like it’s the most delicious thing they’ve ever tasted. Their large cocks are hard, already oozing with pre-cum; a sign of how arousing they find this even though you just started. You sit up, an opportunity Miguel takes to grab your face. He kisses you, slipping his tongue into your mouth before he lets go. He's barely released you when Miggy, who at some point got up between your legs, grabs your face, too. He kisses you, a bit more roughly than Miguel. He holds your neck as he slips his tongue into your mouth, making it a purpose to swirl it against yours, letting you taste yourself for a few seconds before he releases you. Miguel takes your face again, and the cycle repeats with the men taking turns kissing you. Their kisses become needier, sloppier, and rougher but you greedily accept them, loving every second even when your lips start to feel swollen.

“Tell us how much you like this,” Miguel says as he releases your face for Miggy.

“How much you crave our touch,” Miggy adds after he kisses you.

You sit on the bed as they keep kissing you and asking you to say things but not giving you a chance to answer since they're kissing you back to back, which only seems to get them even more aroused. They love the way you’re so lost even with simple kisses, how you try to form the words they’re telling you but losing your train of thought as soon as their lips meet yours.

“Tell us how wet this makes you, hermosa,” Miguel continues.

“Tell us how badly you crave our cocks. How much you love getting attention from your men,” Miggy says.

“Hermosa needs her two men, right, baby?” Miguel asks, nipping at your earlobe.

You can only hum in response as they kiss and now gently bite at your body, causing you to whimper and moan.

“Need you to use your words, bonita. Tell us how badly you need us. Use that pretty mouth of yours,” Miggy says, grabbing your face with a bit more force yet not in a painful way. You open your eyes and meet his red ones. His face is inches away, breath fanning your face as he gives you that look you’ve learned to recognize all too well. He’s ready to fuck you until you see stars.

“Yes - I need you,” you answer too eagerly as Miguel brings his head closer. You look up at them, sitting between them as they kneel on either side of you.

“Say it,” Miguel says. “Say you need your men.”

“I - I need my men,” you answer, growing wetter by the second at the sight of them surrounding you, keeping you trapped between their warm and strong bodies.

“And what do you want from your men, bonita? Hm? Tell your men what you want,” Miggy whispers.

“All I want is to feel good,” you whisper as Miggy brings his thumb close to your mouth, swiping at your bottom lip. “I want to feel the two of you. I - need the two of you,” you admit and that’s all it takes.

You’re pushed on your back before you even realize it, strong and warm hands spread your legs, allowing Miggy to settle between them. As he readies himself, you feel the tip of his cock brush against your pussy, making the two of you moan at the slightest touch.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Miggy groans as he drags you down the bed, pulling you closer.

He pushes his tip in with a low growl, feeling your tightness envelop him immediately, sensing how you’re adjusting to his size. While Miggy pushes his cock further into you, Miguel’s mouth returns to your breasts as he strokes himself, knowing that once Miggy is done, it’ll be his turn to have you. A loud moan escapes from your lips as Miggy bottoms out, filling you completely in the most delicious way.

Feeling your warmth and wetness, all Miggy wants to do is rut into you but he holds back, trying to enjoy the way you feel and look at least for a few seconds before he lets go because damn, you look so beautiful. Your eyes are closed once again, mouth parted with your hands gripping the sheets as he fills you completely and Miguel sucks on your breasts. He starts moving, slowly sliding out and watching your chest rise in anticipation before he slides back in, hearing your soft whimpering begging for more. He can’t help but smirk at the sight; at how needy and responsive you are for them.

His hips begin to pick up speed, causing you to moan loudly.

“Yes, Miggy, please,” you whimper.

“Yes, what, bonita?” Miggy asks as he keeps fucking you at a decent speed, wanting to prolong this moment a bit more. “What do you need?”

Arching your back and with one hand on Miguel’s head to keep his mouth on your breast now, you open your eyes and meet Miggy’s.

“Keep fucking me,” you reply breathlessly, in a way that makes Miggy want to fuck you faster already. “Just like that, please.”

“Good girl,” Miggy praises you, knowing how well you respond to being praised in bed. “Always so good for me, for Miguel. Always so good for us, bonita,” Miggy says as he begins to thrust into you faster, groaning. “Estás tan mojadita. Tan apretadita. Solo para mi, solo para mi,” he moans in Spanish as his hands take hold of your hips.

He grips your hips and thrusts into you, faster and harder. Your bed’s headboard starts hitting the wall repeatedly and loudly, briefly reminding you it’s one of the reasons why you moved out of your apartment as you were getting complaints from too much noise from your neighbors.

“Mig- Fuck - Mig-ggy! Just - Just lik - that,” you manage to say, driving Miggy crazy at the fact that you can’t even form proper sentences right now.

“So good, bonita. You’re doing so well taking my cock,” he praises as he moves you slightly, allowing him to thrust into you deeper than before. He grunts as he feels your pussy squeezing him perfectly, getting him closer and closer to his release.

You nod, whimpering and moaning as your men pleasure you, knowing that this is only the first round of many and once you’re done, you’ll be spent and exhausted.

“Look at you, hermosa, taking Miguel’s cock so well,” Miguel says, releasing one of your nipples from his mouth. You whimper at his words and lack of touch, missing his mouth on your already sensitive breasts from his work. “Miss my mouth already, baby? You are always so eager to have them sucked, aren’t you? You just love it and fuck, I won’t lie. I love seeing you like this. How sensitive you are even to just this,” Miguel says as his hands find their way back to your nipples before he rolls them between his thumbs and index fingers.

You cry out in pleasure, reaching that point in which you get overwhelmed by every word and touch. Your eyes are closed and you swear you see stars as Miguel continues to tweak with you nipples while Miggy fucks you merciless, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

Even in the blissful state you’re in, your nearest hand to Miguel finds its way to his cock. You wrap your hand around it, pumping it with experience as your thumb swipes his tip, feeling his slickness. Your moves earn you a low growl from Miguel as he keeps playing with your nipples, applying more pressure to them as he feels pleasure from your hand, which increases with each second.

“Fuck, hermosa,” Miguel groans as he slows his movements on your nipples for a few seconds, melting into your touch as you take care of him.

“Migu-el, come closer,” you tell him as you keep pumping his member in your hand, noticing the way his stomach flexes with each pump. “I want you in my mouth.”

Miguel groans and shakes his head. “This is about your pleasure, hermosa. Don’t worry about me for now,” he tells you reassuringly but you keep tugging him, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Please, Miguel. Need you - fuck - need you in my mouth. Ple-ase,” you whimper, leaving Miguel no other choice but to fulfill your wish, making Miggy thankful that Miguel is doing it because hell - both men would do anything to make you happy, especially when you’re whimpering like that.

Miguel moves closer to your head, positioning himself so you can take him in your mouth. You eagerly take his cock and start sucking him off, moaning in pleasure as you feel Miguel start moving slowly while Miggy keeps fucking you, hitting that special spot that makes you feel like you’re no longer seeing stars but you’re up there with them - getting you closer and closer to your release.

“That’s right, baby. Let go, bonita, come for me,” Miggy grunts as he picks up his speed, thrusting into you faster than before. His new speed fills the room with obscene sounds of flesh slapping flesh in addition to the sound of your soaking pussy taking Miggy’s cock.

Your free hand reaches for Miggy as you rapidly feel yourself reaching that high. Miggy lets go from one side of your hip, taking your hand and letting you curl your fingers around his, instantly feeling your nails dig into his palm as you become even more of a whimpering mess underneath him. The three of you are losing it with each passing second, rapidly reaching your highs. At last, that feeling grows and you can’t slow it or stop it. You let go, feeling your thighs tremble as your orgasm unravels.

“Así, así look how fucking beautiful you look cumming for me, bonita. Fuck - I’m gonna - fill you up right now,” Miggy says groaning and driving his cock deeper, feeling your fingers dig into his palm and your pussy clenching him as you cum.

You can’t help yourself, so you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as you feel his cock twitch once, twice before he spills inside, filling you with his warm, thick cum as you continue to squeeze him.

“Mierda, me encanta cuando haces eso,” Miggy groans. “Milking me so well, like the good girl you are.”

Miggy’s words only encourage you to continue to take him and suck Miguel’s cock faster. You move your head as best as you can in the position you’re in, enjoying the sound of both men groaning in pleasure and their words as they praise you for doing so good; for taking their cocks so well. You prepare yourself as Miguel grunts, pushing his cock slightly farther into your mouth.

“Fuck, hermosa, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours - I’m gonna-” Miguel warns before he shoots his warm load in your mouth. You moan and try to keep up with all the sensations as both men fill you up.

Miggy moans as he keeps cumming inside of you, still fucking you but slowing down as you’re a shaky, whimpering mess beneath the two men, trying to recover. You're breathing heavily, trying to come back to your senses but it’s too much. Miguel finishes spilling into your mouth and you swallow his load, feeling his hands still working on your chest, though more gently. Miggy is still moving inside of you, still releasing his cum as his loads are larger than Miguel’s, groaning in pleasure and telling you what a good girl you are for taking his load.

At last, both men pull out of you with wet pops. You whimper softly and open your eyes slowly, finding both men kneeled around you, watching you with pride and affection. You smile at them, feeling heat in your cheeks as you lay before them completely exposed with Miggy’s thick cum slowly leaking out of you.

Your Miguel’s smile down at you, caressing you as you recover. They settle at your sides, snuggling you and whispering sweet nothings, allowing you time to prepare for the second round in your shared bed.

----

Translations for words in Spanish: mierda - shit hermosa - gorgeous bonita - pretty, beautiful "Estás tan mojadita. Tan apretadita. Solo para mi, solo para mi" - "You're so wet. So tight. Just for me, just for me" "Así..." - "like that" "Mierda, me encanta cuando haces eso" - "shit, I love it when you do that"

#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel spiderman #across the spiderver fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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simply-simplid · 3 months ago

Note

do you have any misty\jackie headcanons

Oh my god yes

I'm still obsessed with the idea from the original premise that Misty was obsessed with Jackie

Narratively that would make for such a rich dynamic

Jackie who is the spitting image of what Misty idealizes as the perfect high school teenage experience. The golden girl of Wiskayok. Beloved captain of the Yellowjackets. Beauty, grace, confidence, charm- the world in the palm of her hand.

The kicker, is when Jackie actually pays attention to Misty.

She is perfectly content just ogling from afar, building up this gilded image in her mind of Jackie Taylor. But then one day passing down the hall, something falls from Jackie's backpack and Misty calls after her to return it. Jackie turns around, startled at first, but quickly falling into her easy smile that makes everyone feel like superstars

"Sharp eye Misty! Thanks!"

Misty thinks about that interaction almost nonstop for the next six weeks. Jackie Taylor smiled at her. Jackie Taylor thanked her. Jackie Taylor knows her name.

A few more miniscule interactions that Jackie would barely think twice about completely rewrite Misty's brain chemistry.

"New glasses Misty?"

"I wish I could get my hair to curl like that!"

"Thanks for letting me borrow your Bio notes- you're a lifesaver!"

Misty is completely enraptured by all things Jackie Taylor at that point. Whenever there is a snarky comment in the halls about Jackie being shallow, a prude, bitchy, whatever- Misty stares daggers in that direction and is quick to intrude on a conversation to shut it down.

On the other end, Jackie's perception of Misty is unfortunately no where near as impactful. It's not that she dislikes Misty- frankly she just has so much to think about that it's hard to consider the other girl very much at all. The other Yellowjackets will gossip about her, giggle about her crush on Coach Ben and how excited she is getting any sort of attention at all. Jackie always frowns at the comments, but unfortunately, being a teenage girl obsessed with status and social image, she's not as quick to shut down the conversations as she wishes she would be. She will occasionally butt in to redirect the topic when it gets too mean.

She also finds herself pitying the other girl, seeing she doesn't have much of a life outside the Yellowjackets. The first time she invites Misty to a party that the team is attending, Misty nearly has a stroke and Taissa and Mari groan at her in the locker room for extending the invitation to her.

"She's going to start assuming she's invited to everything!"

"She'll think she's one of us!"

"You get to be the one to deal with her when she roofies someone."

Misty shows up to the party, bless her, in a hot pink blazer with huge pointy shoulder pads and a bright turquoise bowtie. Jackie elbowed Shauna hard before she could start laughing.

She tried to be cordial, friendly, tell Misty about where she could find drinks, where the soda was hidden if she didn't want something alcoholic and where she could go if she needed a break from the chaos.

She expected Misty to take the hint and explore the party herself, maybe loosen up a little. Instead. Misty clung by Jackie's side the whole night, much to the chagrin of Jeff and Shauna. She also seemed to have something to add into every conversation, constantly correcting Jeff on his misinformed statements that Jackie usually let slide. Jeff scowled at Jackie most of the night for not getting rid of her. Shauna was tense and broody. Jackie wasn't buzzed enough to keep up with the wildly different energies around her, so she found herself drinking more than usual.

She'd managed to slip away from Misty just long enough to breath with an excuse about needing to use the restroom. Misty rocked on her heels and tried to make conversation with Jeff when Jackie left, but without Jackie there, he wasn't keen on continuing to interact with Misty, and bailed in the middle of her asking what his favorite type of bird was.

After about 15 minutes, Misty began to fret about Jackie. Maybe she was sick, or got lost, or passed out. She was monitoring how much Jackie was drinking, and she was certainly drunk, but she didn't think it was enough to black out. Maybe she had miscalculated based on how much exercise Jackie had done that day. She went to look for the girl amid the buzzing crowd, and found her in a hallway with Shauna, speaking in hushed voices.

"I didn't even want to come tonight- you know I've got that essay I'm freaking out over! I'm only here because you wouldn't stop bugging me about it- and then you invite Misty Fucking Quigley to be a thorn in our side the whole night!" "I wasn't expecting her to- I thought she would have fun and mingle- maybe make some friends-"

"God I shudder at the kind of friends she could make."

"Shauna can we just- I don't want to fight." Jackie sounded tired, weary.

"I'm not fighting" Shauna retorted bitterly, finishing her drink before discarding the cup on the ground and crushing it beneath her boot, "I'm done here."

Shauna stormed off despite Jackie's protests, muttering that she was going to get a ride from someone and ditch this place.

Jackie remained in the hallway, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in tired defeat. Misty slinked off to grab two new cups and a bottle of malibu, returning to find Jackie still there, offering her another drink with a bright smile. Jackie looked at her, brow furrowed. She was really close to turning it down. She was worn out after her argument with Shauna and the petty grumbles from Jeff all night. Misty was nice- but she was a lot, and Jackie was trying really hard not to let her nerves make her agitated with the girl. With a sigh, she accepted the drink. Misty continued yammering on at Jackie as she grew more and more tired and inebriated, refilling her cup anytime it got too low. Eventually, Jackie was having trouble keeping herself upright, and Misty took it upon herself to get her home safely before any creeps could step in. Jeff had clearly already left, Shauna was gone. Why shouldn't it be Misty?

So what if she had kept the rum pouring with the hopes of getting to see Jackie Taylor's bedroom, how she organized her desk, if her closet was arranged by color or style or season, if she had pictures of the team- if she was in the pictures.

Unfortunately for Misty, Taissa and Van caught her dragging a halfway conscious Jackie through the house asking about rides for her and her friend. Taissa rolled her eyes and went to scoop Jackie out of her arms, despite Misty's insistence.

Tai and Van made a point of dropping Misty off first before they went to Jackie's place.

She didn't get to see Jackie's room, but it was still one of the best nights of Misty's life.

Jackie only remembers her and Shauna fighting and a horrible hangover after.

#this was longer than I meant for it to be #Misty Quigley your brain chemicals are so off and I love you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets hcs #yellowjackets headcanons #misty quigley #jackie taylor

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peachy-posy · 2 years ago

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Counting Steps (Vash the Stampede x Reader)

Summary: While traveling with Vash, you get a wound and decide to hide it from him.

A/N: Howdy! This is my first Trigun fic, please be nice hehe. This was originally written with Tri Stamp Vash in mind, but then it turned into me mixing him with 98 Vash, and so now we have this.

I'm considering making a little series about the reader and Vash because I am so whipped for this silly blonde man, the brain rot is insane. If that's something you'd be interested in lmk!

I hope you guys like it <3 ALSO this was cross-posted to my AO3

Warnings: Mild violence, mild blood/injury, fainting

Word Count: 2.5k

This was inspired by this quote from @creativepromptsforwriting: “When were you going to tell me you were bleeding? When you’re already dead?!”

98. 99. That’s another 100 steps. Start over.

You grit your teeth, clutching your side fiercely. Luckily, you are wearing black, so Vash hadn’t seen the sticky, dark stain appear. Your faithful traveling companion walks several paces ahead of you, leading the two of you to a nearby settlement. You couldn’t be that far away now, right? God, you hope not.

You lose your footing, stumbling briefly before catching yourself. White hot pain shoots through your abdomen, and you can’t stop the hiss that slides out between your teeth. Fortunately, Vash doesn’t seem to be able to hear it over the sounds of the wind. A bead of sweat rolls down your face, and you pause, allowing yourself to pant for a moment. Not for long, though. You have to keep moving.

Counting your steps in increments of 100 has been your method of keeping yourself focused. It was a simple task, something to devote all of yourself to for the time being. If you could keep going, one step at a time, you knew you could make it to the town.

17. 18. 19. That’s another 20.

Your mind wanders to the very situation that caused you to get an injury in the first place. What a mess today has been.

You have been traveling with the infamous Vash the Stampede for months at this point. Shootouts and run-ins with bandits and bounty hunters made for another Tuesday. Usually, that was no problem for you guys. You knew your way around a gun and could certainly hold your own, so what the fuck happened today?

30. 31. 32.

The two of you had stopped at a small plant you’d come across while traveling in the desert, thinking it was a good chance to take a breather. Little did you know, you were walking right into a stick-up, with a small group of bandits robbing a family that had stopped there as well. You and Vash stepped in quickly to help, easily incapacitating the bandits. Vash’s attention readily became focused on helping out the family, noticing that the oldest child had gotten a gash on the head.

Allowing Vash to handle the damage control inside, you had stepped back outside to catch your breath. You walked over to the side of the building, leaning against it and resting in the shadow it produced. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw movement. Apparently, there was another person involved that had slipped away. You sprung into action, running around the building to where you’d seen the figure disappear. After that, everything happened really fast.

The man was quick, and he lunged at you with startling speed. You were able to dodge the initial thrust of his knife towards your gut, but you didn’t sidestep fast enough, feeling the blade tear a gash into your side. The adrenaline in your system helped you to ignore the pain, and you whipped around, kicking the knife out of his hand and twisting his arm behind his back. Before he knew it, you had him pinned on the ground, arms pulled uncomfortably behind his back. Drawing your small revolver from its holster, you swiftly hit the back of his head with the grip, feeling his body go limp under you.

After he passed out, the tension left your body and you leaned back with a sigh. It was at this point that you started to feel the sharp, stinging pain radiating from your side. Glancing down with a wince, you moved your jacket aside, laying your eyes on the gash that had been so generously given to you by your friend here. Because you wore your jacket open, it looked like it had blown out of the way and been spared by the blade. So, at the very least, you wouldn’t be spending the evening sewing the jacket up. Your body was a different story, unfortunately.

It was a small, but deep, clean cut. It wasn’t anything worse than what you’ve had before. But, it would definitely need some stitches. You were almost positive you could patch this up with the first aid kit inside.

You released your jacket, heaving yourself off the ground with some effort, applying pressure to the wound. Once on your feet, you made your way back around front, finding the entrance to the small building.

Vash was crouched, chatting to the teary-eyed children, calming them down with a practiced ease that came from many years of experience around kids. He smiled at them, and said something that drew a giggle from the children. Their parents watched from nearby with grateful smiles, eventually pulling him into a conversation with them as well. A soft smile formed on your lips, as it often did when you saw him have these types of interactions.

Your pain brought you back down to reality though, and you grimaced. Your eyes scanned the room for the first aid kit, and you found it lying on a small table. You quietly walked over, and immediately grabbed some gauze to hold against the wound. You sifted through the contents, searching for the thread, knowing you definitely had some. It wasn’t until you remembered that one of the kids had gotten a cut to the head that you turned around, seeing the last of your thread stitched up in a wound already. Vash might be holding onto some more, but even if he were, it likely wouldn’t be enough.

Well. Shit.

You faced away from everyone again, trying to think of what to do. You were less than half a day’s walk from the next town. You didn’t have any supplies other than some gauze that would help. Telling Vash would worry him, and he’d definitely want to carry you the rest of the way, even though you knew his prosthetic had been causing him soreness recently.

You were just gonna have to suck it up and walk. You stuffed gauze into your pockets as discreetly as you could, before hearing your name called from behind you softly. You turned your head to the side, heart skipping a beat at seeing those gorgeous blue eyes gazing at you.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, concern creasing his brow. You wanted to reach out and smooth your fingers over it, not wanting him to worry about anything.

Instead, you gave him a convincing smile. “Yeah. I found another guy outside. We should probably tie him up with the others before leaving.” The person running the plant assured you both that they would be fine while they waited for authorities to arrive to take the men away. You made sure your body was angled to where he couldn’t see your bloody hand or the gauze.

He raised his eyebrows, surprised to have missed one, but ultimately nodded, letting you know he’d take care of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mayfly. I’m getting sloppy!” he joked, and you’d giggled in reply, heart fluttering every time he called that. It was just friendly, of course. Because that’s all you were - friends.

That’s another 60 steps. Or was it 70?

You jam your eyes shut, breathing through the worsening pain. You sigh defeatedly. You ran out of gauze an hour ago. The bleeding has slowed, but not fully stopped. Not with all of the pulling from walking. At least the sun is starting to go down, giving you a break from this damned heat.

You look up, seeing Vash’s back ahead, his red coat blowing gently in the wind. The distance is getting greater between the two of you. You’re starting to regret not filling him in about your situation. After noticing your silence not long into the walk, he’d asked once more if everything was all right. You smiled, told him you were fine, and that you’d tell him later tonight. He accepted that begrudgingly, giving you a Look, but had ultimately given you space.

You stop walking, your breathing uneven and heavy. Your vision wasn’t quite right either… had you really lost that much blood? The chill settling into your bones screams ‘yes’ at you. Vash is getting too far away. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You feel your body trembling, and you close your eyes, a dull ringing in your ears beginning. Your grip on the gauze pressed into your side is getting looser, but you’re starting to care less. It’s not like it’s working anyway.

You are startled out of your thoughts by the feeling of hands gripping your upper arms. You gasp, opening your eyes, struggling to get them to focus for a moment. Once they do, you see Vash in front of you. His mouth is moving, and he looks worried. Oh. They’re his hands, you note, glancing at his arms.

The ringing in your ears subsides enough that you can hear his voice again. He’s calling your name.

“…you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks, searching your eyes.

“Huh?” You manage eloquently.

He sighs, closing his eyes, but he doesn’t let go of you. “You’ll be the death of me, Mayfly. What’s wrong?” He asks. “I know you said you’d tell me later, and, well, it’s technically later now, so…” he trails off, but his words have an expectant tone to them. This doesn’t really seem to be something he wants to budge on.

Not that you’re planning on withholding what’s happening at this point. You are almost certain you’ll pass out here soon.

“Um…” you start, averting your gaze. Finally, he seems to notice the way you’re holding yourself. Specifically, the placement of your arm, tucked into your jacket. His expression shifts into something more knowing, and he seems to have caught on.

He gently reaches down to pull your hand away so he can take a look, but as he does so, your knees buckle and you start a hard fall to the sandy ground. You shut your eyes, waiting for the impact that never comes, as you are wrapped up in a pair of strong arms before falling very far.

You are slowly lowered the rest of the way, and find yourself resting against Vash’s chest on the ground. He’s muttering something under his breath, and you’re murmuring an apology. He pulls your jacket back, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees the bloodied gauze.

“When were you going to tell me you’re bleeding? Once you were already dead?!” He asks, and yeah, you probably deserve that. He’s peeling back the gauze gingerly, scrutinizing the wound, concern etched into his gorgeous face. He’s talking, likely scolding you, but that annoying ringing in your ears is back, so you can’t hear him. You should not be thinking about how pretty he looks right now, but your vision is turning black and you don’t really care anymore. His head turns to face you, his eyes widening. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite identify.

But everything feels heavy, and you are very tired. You slump into his chest, closing your eyes.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next thing you know, you are lying in an uncomfortable bed, tucked into itchy, white sheets. You groan, taking in how dry your mouth is and how bad your side hurts.

Oh yeah.

You open your eyes, sitting up with a gasp. You blink hard to clear your vision, but curl into yourself as pain shoots through your abdomen. You feel a set of familiar hands take you by the shoulders.

“Woah! Take it easy! Just take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You feel one of the hands move from your shoulder to rub your back soothingly, and you look up. Those beautiful blue eyes meet yours, relief flooding his features. Vash murmurs your name with a relieved smile.

“There you are. Are you okay?” He asks softly, gently pushing you to lay back down. You put up no resistance.

“Yeah, just a bit sore,” you manage, glancing down to your wound. You move your hand to touch it, applying pressure experimentally, but he moves your hand away, holding onto it instead. Like a worried friend, you remind yourself. You take a moment to glance around the clinical-looking room, and think you already know the answer, but ask anyway. “Where are we?”

His thumb moves slowly across your knuckles, just like a friend would do. In a friendly way. “The local clinic. We weren’t very far out of town when you passed out. I just brought you here right away. That was last night.” His expression shifts from soft to scolding, and he runs his other hand through his blonde hair. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Don’t do that again!”

You offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Vash. We’d used the last of the thread for stitches on one of the children, and I thought I could tough it out.”

He stares at you, and you wilt a bit at his hurt expression. “Why wouldn’t you tell me though? We may not have been able to stitch you up right away, but I could have-“

“Carried me into town?” You finish, and he nods. You reach up, gingerly touching his prosthetic arm. His eyes widen slightly, not expecting your touch. “I know your arm has been bothering you lately, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

His expression softens endearingly once more at your reasoning, the look he’s giving you making you fall in love with him all over again.

“Oh, Mayfly,” he murmurs, “let me decide what I can handle, okay? It wouldn’t have been so bad.”

You understand, but you also frown a bit at his words, raising an eyebrow at him. “But who looks after you? You have and would push yourself past every limit you have for the sake of someone else.”

He sighs, but doesn’t deny what you say, either. “How about we work on compromising a bit? We’ll look after each other, and make sure we aren’t pushing ourselves too hard.”

You try to level him with a stare, but end up relenting with a sigh and a smile. “Fine.”

He smiles back at you, mirroring your tone. “Fine.”

There’s a beat of silence, and it seems like something comes to his mind at that moment. His smile becomes something more like a smirk, and you regard him suspiciously.

“What,” you deadpan, somewhat dreading whatever he has to say.

He props his elbows on your bed, resting his chin on his hands, leaning forward.

“Nothing! I’m just flattered,” he replies, and you really, really don’t like the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“By…?” You ask, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t know you thought I was pretty.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Of course you do. But you’d never just say that.

“Yeah, right.”

“No really! You said so yourself! Remember? Something like, ‘I should not be thinking about how pretty you look-’”

You choke, blushing furiously. Oh my god. Right before you passed out. You must’ve accidentally said that out loud, delirious.

“I-I did not!” You sputter back, but you know it’s futile. He’s laughing too hard. You hate it, but even now, as he is laughing at you, you can’t help but love the sound of it. You’d do just about anything to keep him laughing and smiling like this.

He pokes your cheek, his laugh dying down. “For the record, I think you’re pretty too. ‘Specially when you’re blushing like this.”

Holy. Shit.

Never mind. You wish you had bled out.

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun 98 #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash x reader #vash x you #i love this man #peachy writes!

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yandere-sins · 2 years ago

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The Orcas' Tale - Give up wanting to leave them (BE 2)

Sooo, finally another bad end, and a really long one at that! Please heed the warnings at always, and I hope you guys enjoy it ♥

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Orca Mermen x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Monsters, Violence (Scratching, Biting, Verbal Abuse, Mention of a tragic birth), Sexual Content (Fingering, Groping, Mention of monster cocks, Non-consensual touches), Pregnancy and Nursing mention, Baby mention, Baby death mention, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death, Long Post

Why should you even try?

Slowly, you let your breath slide out through your gritted teeth, the tension being pulled from your body as you exhaled. Until there was nothing. You simply felt nothing. No anxiety, no stress, no panic. The urgency from before was replaced by numbness, your mind turning blank as you stared at the pool, the water gently rippling. It was utterly dark, seemingly endless in its depth. Even with the light of the shining plant climbing along the walls, the only thing that got clearer by the second was that there was nothing you could do.

It was simply a fact. A fact you had tried to deny for so long but that those three had already pointed out to you countless times. You were weak; you were helpless. Without them, you'd still be out there on your little raft. No one would have come to save you. Being indebted to them was one thing, but you couldn't deny it anymore that the chance of going back to your life had already been very slim even before they found you. Of course they wouldn't want to risk their life for someone they barely knew. Make a tedious and dangerous journey for someone they had already saved once before out of the goodness of their hearts.

And you… couldn't swim there. You had no idea where you were, but there was a high chance it wasn't near land. Judging by how little light illuminated the water in the small pool, you'd have to dive and swim quite a bit before you'd reach the surface. And then what? Try to weather the moody waters until you'd either die from exhaustion, heatstroke, or drown in the waves? They already told you they wouldn't come for you if you left on your own, so aside from nature's cruelty, you'd also be subject to predators like the orcas. Not even a trained swimmer would have a chance. You certainly wouldn't make it back to land. Who were you going to fool?

Just like that, you realized the choice you had to make.

"Fine…" you mumbled, catching everyone's attention, Lyr even pried open an eye again to watch you. "I'll stay."

There was a moment of silence. Even your heartbeat was booming when there were no breaths or movements around you in the cave. The expectancy of a joke was loud and clear, even amongst these creatures that weren't supposed to be human enough to understand it. As if you were going to go back on your word any passing second now and throw another tantrum about how you want to leave immediately.

"Human," Nerrocan mumbled, sounding almost like a warning. "Let's sleep over it."

"No." Shaking your head, you cut off the idea. "I am done trying to fight battles I can't win! I don't have the strength to keep going like this. I have to make a decision now and be done worrying and agonizing about all the possibilities and consequences! I… I'll stay here. With you guys. You promised to keep me safe, so you better step up!"

You could feel the tears shooting into your eyes and quickly wiped them away, fed up with crying and too exhausted to care about the warning signs your body sent you. Your throat was clogged up, but you had said your piece, ready to lay the argument to rest. Just like you were ready to finally go to sleep and regain some of the sanity you had lost over the last few hours. Sleep that wasn't induced by panic or violence. Checking the ground behind you for stones or unevenness, you settled down, heaving a deep breath and trying to let go of any remnants of your conflicting feelings. All you wanted were a few hours of not having to think or feel before facing the new reality you chose.

"Human," someone purred to your left, ripping you out of the calm you tried to force yourself into. Opening your eyes, Krill's face hung above yours, his deep red eyes sparkling alongside his widely spread grin. Almost immediately, regret crept back into your conscience as you dragged your arms in front of your body, only for your wrists to be caught in one of Krill's hands.

"So you agree to stay? Give yourself to us?"

Before you knew it, he had brought his head down, his voice sweeter than anything you had ever heard, goosebumps surging on your skin as the sound tingled all over you. You gave a brief but firm nod, wiggling your body beneath him while Krill's body weighed down on you, the merman not wasting a breath to respond to your agreement. Lips crashing into yours, the strange sensation of his kiss reminded you of Nerrocan's when he first pulled you into the water. Domineering, confident, hungry. It didn't soothe the resurfacing anxiety, the thoughts swirling in your mind as you were forced to open your mouth for him, his plump tongue breaking through to lick at your blunt teeth and taste what you had to offer.

You could barely struggle beneath him, trying desperately just to get air. But with your hands pinned down, Krill only relented when he felt every muscle in your body tensing, briefly pulling away for you to breathe while he kissed along your jaw and the side of your neck laid bare before him. This wasn't what you wanted from this deal, but you neither had the strength nor the chance to hide the jerk that went through you when his teeth grazed over the spot between your shoulder and neck, your whine sounding awfully lot like a moan.

The three of them gave you no second to catch your composure as all their hands seemed to appear across your body, claws squeezing into your flesh while the pads of their hands rubbed up on your inner thigh. Their interest in you greatly outweighed their common sense, and they grew more and more eager to explore you with every touch that fell on you, never enough to quench their curiosity. It was then that you realized the full extent of your choice. The consequence of your actions.

"We'll take good care of you," Krill hummed, his voice sending shivers up your spine, causing a tingle deep in your core. You knew he was using his magical siren voice at you, and yet you could not reasonably explain the visceral need you felt to keep hearing it. Your whole body shivered when he added in a honeyed purr, "I promise."

You knew you couldn't trust him, the orcas' promises never actually being fulfilled. But you realized then and there that you didn't have the fight left in you to argue. To really make them promise. There was no time to concentrate on anything other than the sensations running through your body as his hand slipped below, a strong, clawed finger settling between your folds, slowly, rhythmically circling and pressing into your sex. The sensation left you writhing up to the moment when the tip of his claw got caught on the fabric of your wetsuit. You gasped, shooting upwards, only for more hands to grab your shoulders.

As if they coordinated their movements, Krill's body retreated, not out of sight, but out of your thoughts, the sound of water splashing as he sank into the pool, barely able to catch your attention as Lyr took over. With his chest in your back, he kept you seated, a smug grin playing around his lips as he looked down on you from behind.

"Who's a good human?" he asked, your brain fully aware that he was mocking you, turning your expression into a grimace. And yet… at the same time… his voice kept going where Krill left off, your gut churning with the need to hear more of it.

"I'm not your pet!" you hissed back, but the sound was more of a childish complaint than the confident reply you wanted it to be. However, before you two could argue, your focus was diverted, your eyes snapping forward to Krill's hands roaming between your legs, spreading them. With his body demanding space between your thighs, he used his hands to slip beneath the supple flesh of your thighs, lifting them up and out of the way, steading them over his shoulders. "What–!" you tried to argue when your head was forcefully pulled backwards, eyes falling back on Lyr, whose sharp teeth showed in the form of a large grin.

"That's where you're wrong," he chuckled, placing his hand, gently yet firm, around your throat, denying you the chance to look away as he leaned forward to kiss you, tongue swiping over your lips demandingly. You couldn't help but jolt and push your hands into his shoulders above you, but no matter how much of your left-over strength you used, he didn't budge a bit until you relented, letting him in, the merman exploring your mouth with his tongue to his heart's content, letting out little chuckles as he went about having his way with you.

There was no time to comprehend and work through everything that happened. Your clothes didn't last long with their hands clawing through the fabric until they could brandish your skin with their scratches. Tongues turned into teeth, salvia into blood. You gasped when Krill filled you with one of his fingers, moaning into Nerrocan's mouth, who had made it his life mission to ease you into their groping with more kisses, allowing you to breathe through him only. If you had to assess them, he was the only gentle one, and yet, even he couldn't stop himself from squeezing your breast needily when his grabby hands found them.

Even he couldn't hold back biting a bloody, possessive ring of teeth marks around your nipples when the chance presented itself, and neither could his packmates, the hot blood trickling from your shoulder and thighs mixing with your tears and juices while they licked the wounds devotedly. None of them was satisfied with just one bite, marking their territories on your body, their jaws stretching wider, teeth burying deeper, and tongues licking more fervently with every mark.

The claw inside your cunt made you anxious, your walls clenching around the thick finger involuntarily, even as you were distracted from the waves of pleasure and pain. You tried your best to keep yourself controlled and conscious, but you were failing miserably, their muttered voices lulling you into letting yourself fall, giving up your struggles. You hadn't yet loosened up enough when Krill forced another one of his fingers inside, cursing about your tightness.

"How's my cock supposed to fit inside?" he complained to no one in particular while your body jerked, sobs escaping you as he rampaged your pussy. It hurt! It was anything but lovingly! And yet, he fucked joint after joint inside you, triggering all the sweet spots you wished he'd never find. "It's like you want this to hurt! You're so much worse than our females!"

Every tear trickling from your eyes was licked up by the other two, and every complaint was swallowed by another kiss. You had already given in to them once, but letting go completely was harder than you thought. "Relax," Lyr purred into your ear from behind, sounding so damn convincing to your struggling brain and making you breathe out the air you've been holding in. His hand wandered below, teasing your body on its way until it found your cunt, spreading it and flicking his finger unintentionally over your clit.

"Do that again," Krill ordered, perplexed when you moaned out loud, your walls tensing and releasing with a shudder. You could hear the knowing chuckle behind you before Lyr began assaulting your clit with his fingers, twisting and circling over it, his touch so rough and mean, and yet distracting you from the hardship of Krill fucking you with his fingers until it came all together in harmony.

Nerrocan demanded entrance to your mouth once more as he played with your breasts, his claws stimulating and pulling your nipples alongside the pleasure given to you by the other two. That way, you were kept between heaven and hell until you finally caved, your orgasm rattling through your body violently, eyes rolling back as the three pushed you over the edge. Your songs of pleasure ripped through the silent cave, and the three joined in with cocky laughter and adoring whistles.

For a few moments, you were gone from the world, gone from the pain and agony that your decision had already given you. Someone laid you down into the soft fur as you convulsed, fingers popping out of you before you were enveloped in more tongues licking off the remnants of your orgasm, exploring and tasting you, forcing out whines from your throat whenever they teased a sensitive area.

You were doomed. So fucking doomed.

It was nice that you'd go out with a bang, pleasure overweighing pain. Still, you hadn't saved yourself with your decision, only putting you into more misery. It had never been an equal partnership that they offered. You were more of a pet than an accepted member of their squad. But when you focused your gaze, staring into three sparkling pairs of eyes, pearls of cum dripping from their erect cocks onto your body, you knew you were more than even a pet. You were going to be their personal pleasure toy. And outlet for their desires. A broodmare.

Their children's mother.

And your body did the only thing it could do to save you, forcing your conscience to drift away from you, your vision turning black as the sight of them closed in.

"It is so small. Again."

You didn't dare to pry your eyes off the little devil baby in your arms, even when his great aunt spewed her venomous words around you again. Even after baby two—actually three—she still had nothing nice to say about the half-humans you had given birth to for her sons and nephew. She had nothing but snide comments and derogatory words, and though every one of them stung, there was little you could do against her.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, flinching noticeably when your son accidentally bit instead of sucked on your breast, hungry and desperate for milk that you wanted to feed him but couldn't. Even if you were lucky to even produce milk, considering your child wasn't the only one feeding from it and the constant stress you were under, there was never enough for him. Compared to his brethren, your son was small, causing loads of fear and anguish amongst the pack if he'd even make it. Yet he fed like a champion, suffering from your lack of milk to the point of recklessly biting you.

"Come now, Dessi. Cut the human some slack."

Compared to her sister, Thalassa was much gentler when it came to you. Nerrocan's mother couldn't and wouldn't hide the smile on her face as she scooped up her first known grandchild from your arms, one palm enough to hold the little man. Had the three merely told you how massive the females of their pack were, you might not have believed it, but they towered over you, easily trice your size. Once the baby was out of your hands, you clutched your breast, the left-over milk mixing with blood as you winced. Unlike his father, the little rascal didn't leave deep and permanent marks, but your time pregnant and nursing was visible all over alongside the claiming mating bites, especially with the lack of clothes you were given, modesty not needed underwater.

"You're just happy it's your grandchild this time." Desdemona followed the statement with a loud huff, dissatisfied and annoyed as she always was when it came to matters concerning you, while she stared at the little baby in her sister's palm. Danger gleamed in her eyes as she watched Thalassa coo and bubble to the baby, almost looking like a human grandmother despite her statue-esque size and unmistakable skin pattern similar to Nerrocan's. But if you were honest, only a small part of you would try to save your child from her wrath should she decide to unleash it on your son. You knew better than to try and throw a tantrum around the matriarch of the pack, who wished for nothing more than for you to disappear.

"If only these three rascals would get their bums out there and have children with strong and healthy females instead of… that."

Her eyes shifted to you, and you instinctively hung your head in shame, knowing how unwelcome you were. In her eyes, you were a mere plaything of her children, not the respected mother of her grandkids. Your first encounter had been tense, Krill, Lyr, and Nerrocan having decided not to make a secret out of your existence but introduce you to their pack. They received a lot of retaliation from everyone, but when they made it clear through bared fangs and screeching that they would choose you over their family, the matriarch eventually relented.

She cared very little about the new position you gained in the whole pack as the mother of her grandchildren, though. And behind whistles and snarky looks from every merfolk you met in the months you had been here, it was pretty clear that the only reason you were even tolerated was because of your three mates, who wouldn't hear any reason when it came to their choice of partner. Yes, mates.

Another reason she hated you so, as her sons and nephew refused to find—in her opinion—better partners and make children that were worthy of being nurtured and taught the ways of the sirens. Orcas didn't tend to stay monogamous. To learn they actually had a word for it, hearing it the first time uttered in disgust from the matriarch, had been an awful surprise. Desdemona despised you for depriving Krill and Lyr of that possibility, blaming you for their focus ever only being on you. As if you asked them to obsess and impregnate you. As if it was all your fault.

When really, it was just another consequence of your decision years ago.

Being tolerated was better than being dead, at least, even if your body felt like it was dying. Siren-human babies were needy like a human would be, in the body of a mermaid, together with sharp teeth and a tail. The horror of birthing was still stuck in every bone, and you were exhausted from being up all night trying to get your child to calm down. Nerrocan tried his best, taking his son swimming or floating at the surface when he could, but he was duty-bound, away most of the day to hunt. And if it wasn't their child, Krill and Lyr weren't genuinely interested in it, only looking forward to the time you'd be ready to mate again.

"That's right," Thalassa chuckled, playing with the baby that looked like a miniature toy in her hands. It should have alarmed you, but who were you to derive the grandmother of what she enjoyed when she could crush you with one hand? "I am so happy it's my grandson this time. You already have one, Dessi! It's more than fair it was my sweet, little Nerrocan having a child this time. And look how cute it is! You're the cutest little thing in the world, aren't you?"

Your child was happily bubbling while you shrugged away from Desdemona, who seemed to slowly but surely lose her mind over her sister's affection for the little devil spawn she saw in your son. "At least it's a siren this time," she hissed angrily, reminding you of the painful memories you tried to forget.

This child was lucky to be born with all the traits needed to survive below the ocean's surface. Fangs, claws, gills, and a tail were enough to secure its place in the pack, unlike his sister, your second child, who was born human and not a siren. It had been another show of how cruel these creatures were, ripping her away from you the moment you had birthed her, never even allowing you to hold her. A delusional part of you wanted to believe she was still alive, but you had never even once seen her, the sound of her cries turning into gurgles the only thing you remembered.

Your relationship with Lyr had never been the same since then. After all, it was his daughter that just didn't make the cut with the pack. These memories were too painful to remember for both of you, but even when he showed up and slept in the same cave, bringing you food and gifts, you knew he couldn't forget them, either.

The water in the large entrance pool of the community hall—another cave, though larger and wider, with space for thirty or more orcas to assemble and often used by families to chat and linger—rippled before you as a familiar face broke through the surface, smiling politely at you when your eyes crossed. She was young and highly regarded in terms of merfolk's standards, some distant relative of your mates. But you never even learned her name as she only came to collect your children at your mother-in-law's request. She had nursed your first son for you and did it for the newborn now, but not without throwing you a pitiful glance when she thought you weren't looking.

To her, as to everyone else, you were nothing but a minor lifeform, unsuited and better as food than as mother for the children of their strongest warriors. Had she not been family, surely the matriarch had asked her to bear Krill's or Lyr's child, and she'd be the one sitting here with them, nursing and chatting with very happy grandmothers. Envy was not a good look on her pretty face, but could you begrudge her for it?

"Time for food!" Thalassa lilted, ignoring that you had just nursed him, at least to some extent. Lowering her hand towards the pretty mermaid, the latter scooped the tiny child into her arms, giving a well-mannered bow to the matriarch and her sister but sparing only a short glance at you before slipping under. Gone was your hungry baby, and you breathed out, trying not to make your relief known too much.

"Hah…" Desdemona sighed, looking after the younger female with longing in her eyes. "If you could at least produce enough milk for your own child, we wouldn't have to bother our lovely and kind daughters and nieces with providing for it. Do you even do anything but take from us, Human?"

Biting your lip, you knew arguing was pointless. What would you even say? Apologizing would only make her mad, and standing up for yourself had proved useless. No matter how many kills and victories her sons and nephew dedicated to you or how many gold chains and jewels they decorated you with, she'd never see you worthy of anything but her frustration and anger. Changing her opinion was nearly impossible if no one she respected argued for her.

"Now, now, Sister. Leave the poor mother alone. I have nursed your children too when they drained you of all your milk, don't you remember?" Thalassa came to your rescue, and you shot her a brief smile as a thank you that she returned in kind.

"That was something completely different."

"Sure it was, Desdemona. Isn't it more important that our sons are happy? Don't you like seeing them do their best for their beloved and the pack?"

Baring her teeth at her sister, Thalassia finally relented with her gentle scolding, raising her hands conciliatory at the matriarch whose word stood above everyone's, including her sister's.

"Only when the human finally gives Lyr the child he deserves will they truly be happy."

It stung. Hearing her underhanded insults at your lost daughter and yourself hurt exactly like she intended, especially when paired with a glare that could kill. Lowering your head, the tears stung badly in your eyes, even when you tried to hold them back, not wanting her to see your display of weakness. She still noticed, especially with the scowl her sister gave her.

"Everyone makes mistakes," she backpaddled loudly, not as much caring about you as she cared about the image she created of herself to the other few groups of female orcas lingering around but keeping their distance. How would she look in their eyes, making her grandson's mother cry? "Our sons and us included, Thalassia."

"After all, it was the human's choice to stay here."

Unable to hold back your sobs, you covered your face in your hands. You wanted to scream that NO! it wasn't your choice. Well… it was, but what else could you have done? Simply said goodbye to your life? Miserably succumbed to nature or the predators waiting for you? Died while on your journey and killing their sons while at it?

"Ah, the tears again," Desdemona sighed, defeated. As if it was her who was suffering a great ordeal. Knowing you were painting her in the cruel light befitting of her attitude, she resorted to brushing off your feelings, even going as far as to mock you. "What a pitiful creature. Truly pitiful. The only reason you are still alive is because our sons feed and adore you. They might buy into your crying, but I will not humor this any longer, let's go, Thassi."

Slipping into the water, her massive body disappeared into the depths you, too, called your home now, however unwillingly. You knew below you was an elaborate city of deep waters and caves, all belonging to the pack. Nerrocan had shown it to you, albeit over a long, long time, as you couldn't adjust your eyes properly underwater. Without help, you were lost, left to someone's goodwill to be brought from and to the cave you shared with your mates, stranding you wherever you were, oftentimes alone and hurting as no one would reply to your calls.

When she was gone, it was another big stone off your shoulders, her presence nothing but agonizing and dreadful. Thalassa scooted closer, her giant palm settling gently at your back. "It's alright," she soothed you, and you tried to compose yourself, wiping away the tears. "She's actually very happy with Krill being a father and her sweet grandson."

Her comforting words were nothing but pretty lies. However, you nodded, the pack's second-in-command still instilling a good heap of fear into you, even if she was pretending to be nice.

"Alas," she sighed, a thoughtful hum escaping her, no less melodic than any word anyone ever spoke to you. She leaned forward, the hand rubbing your back coming to a halt as her fingers wrapped around your body, claws placed against your skin. She didn't hurt you, didn't even press a mark into your flesh, but the sharp claws against your neck and above your heart were threatening enough for you to still, not daring to move and hurt yourself on them.

"You don't really have to give her another grandchild, you know? It would be a waste to strain your body for Lyr again. That boy is no good, not even as a father. How about you give my sweet Nerrocan another child? I don't mind if it's a girl or a boy, but wouldn't it be so nice if we could become a big, happy family? Bigger than Desdemona's. See, I can't have children anymore, but you're still fertile. Wouldn't you like to see me at the head of the pack instead of her? I know I'm asking much, but you could do me this little favor, and maybe I can put in a good word for you with everyone."

You glanced at her from the corner of your eyes, too afraid to turn your head. Her smile was no longer warm and welcoming. There was no kindness and no motherly care left in the calculated, forced expression on her face. Once again, she made you realize you were nothing in this world, their schemes and power struggles just as bad as humans, and if not a pet to her son and nephews, you were a pawn for her to rise to the position of the matriarch.

"Think about how happy Nerrocan would be if you chose him for your next mating cycle. And of course, I'd be so happy too if you'd give me another grandchild. It's your decision, of course. I am sure you'll make the right decision… this time."

You nodded slowly over her claw to prevent yourself from getting hurt. In the end, every kind word and gesture had just been to move her plan into motion, cozying up to you for her own gain. Thalassa was no different from her sister or everyone else, and when she slipped into the pool, the grand cave hall slowly emptying out with the other orcas leaving as well, an awfully familiar feeling of loneliness overcame you.

Looking up at the glowing plant light at the ceiling, silent tears poured from your eyes as you longed for the warmth of a real family and real friends surrounding you. Of any human, really. Of the warm sun and the cozy rain, clouds above your head instead of stone and water. Endless amounts of water. You missed days you were pain-free and cared for. Where someone asked for your thoughts because they liked to hear them. You knew what you signed up for by now, but the cost had been too great, too devastating for you to bear.

The trophies and gold you were adorned with wouldn't make you happy. Being pregnant and raising more children wouldn't make you happy. Being with your mates, not out of love, but because you needed them to survive, didn't make you happy. Being a pawn and popping out kids for some power-hungry orca lady wouldn't make you happy, regardless of her promises. You had a role in this pack, and as such, you were treated well. But just because you were tolerated and respected, you'd never be happy with how you were treated as nothing more than a mother to children no one wants you to have aside from Krill and Nerrocan, maybe Lyr.

Staring into the water, you couldn't see the ground below. It was there, you'd reach it eventually if you sank far enough, but you wouldn't live long enough to ascend from it again. No one would come to save you this time. No one would take you home and tell you they loved you. But if you couldn't be happy… then at least you could be free.

And finally, everyone would be satisfied with your choice.

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