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weskie · 1 day

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What You Deserve (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | 2700 words, salacious use of tentacles, post re5 wesker, one of those things that was meant to be sweet but became nasty, amab!reader version here | Fic Directory

You've taken such good care of him. Isn't it time he rewards you? Be careful though. Some things are still a little… new.

You were something else. Frankly you always have been, but now more than ever.

Despite waves of self loathing and rampant depression of which he would never confess, Wesker’s recovery has been as smooth as you could make it. Pain medication kept most of the lingering aches away and Uroboros had ensured he lived to see another day. Other than a weakened body riddled with scar tissue from his little dunk in the fires of the Earth, he couldn’t complain terribly much.

Even after his fusion with Uroboros, Wesker was still a mere man unable to escape the more… basic urges. He’s always considered arousal to be like an itch. Sure he could scratch it, but he could also ignore it and let it go away. He often chose the latter, but, with little else to occupy him besides literature or your company, such a choice became significantly more difficult.

You notice his state quickly, though you say nothing of the tented blanket that only seems to continue rising the more he tries to ignore it. You simply take his hand and squeeze, occupied with your laptop while Wesker rereads the same line of his book over and over again in a poor attempt to settle down. When he tips his head back against the mountain of pillows he’s propped against, you give him a knowing look.

“Want some help?” You ask, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

Does he? He did go waist deep in lava. Thus far, it had seemed Uroboros took care to heal his nerves in all other places, and he’s never noticed a lack of sensation in the times where he’s had to touch himself to bathe, but what if he can’t feel enough to… perform well for you? Was it even the full act of sex that you were offering or simply assistance in relieving him?

Perhaps the uncertainty was written across his face because you turn to face him, hand rising to stroke his cheek and trail into his unstyled hair. Your touch spurs another aching pulse between his legs. “Only if you want to,” you say sweetly.

He pretends to consider your offer, but his answer was yes the very moment you spoke. The second your thumb brushes his lip, he’s tugging you onto his lap. He swallows your protests with ease, groaning weakly into the kiss. Wesker knows you’re afraid to put your weight down on him, still so worried about agitating his aches and pains. He has half a mind to grip your hips and help you grind against him, but you’re taking charge before he can.

“Let me,” you murmur, lips trailing down his neck. You halt at the collar of his sleep shirt, moving away only to help him pull it over his head. Your hands land on his sides, smoothing up and down slowly, stroking reverently at the juxtaposition of softness and patches of scarring. Each motion brings you closer and closer to his chest until you’re kneading his pectorals, thumbs brushing against rosy buds in such a way that leaves him panting.

It really has been a while… the throb of his cock confirms it. He has half a mind to just tear at your clothes and rush you to take him, but you seem to sense his impatience just as easily as you’d noticed his need. “M’gonna take care of you,” you whisper sweetly, palms coaxing him to rest fully against the pillows. “You deserve it.” You slip so easily down his body, blanket falling away to reveal black boxer briefs that have clearly garnered a little wet spot from such light teasing. “Just relax. Shut your eyes, sweetheart.”

He does as you say, releasing a shuddering breath in anticipation for what’s to come. It turns to a gasp the second your tongue laves the dip of his hips. Your hands steady him with gentle pressure, shirking their duty when you decide to skim your nails over ticklish flesh and wring a breathy giggle from him.

He can feel your smile as you kiss further down, sensation dulling when your peppered love finds its way to the band of his underwear, renewing once more when you peck sweetly at his inner thighs. Wesker’s hips seek you of their own accord and he’s lucky enough to feel at least one press of your lips to his covered length before you make your way back up. He practically bucks into your grasp when you take hold of him.

“Seems like everything's in working order,” you coo playfully in his ear.

Wesker finds his lower lip to gnaw on while you stroke him slowly. His hands paw at your clothes, eagerly trying to expose you. His eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide around distorted hues of red and blue still vying for dominance over one another. He’s just about got your shirt off when that hand of yours dives beneath his waistband, milking the most humiliating whine from him imaginable.

What's wrong with him? Why is he so… desperate?

His hands leave you to shimmy out of his underwear, hissing at the cool air and the mere sight of your hand around his weeping cock. He turns back to you, keening into a kiss as he tries once more to tug at your clothes. He hoists your leg over his hip, palm smoothing to take a greedy handful of your rear, playing with your flesh as you’d done with him. Everything about you is bliss itself, from your slow, torturous strokes to his cock to the slide of your tongue against his. You should be bare against him, skin to skin, letting him feel every inch of you. He needs it. He needs you.

Suddenly, a humming laugh escapes you, reverberating against his tongue before you break away. “Again, huh?” You breathe.

Again… yes.

Once more, tendrils have wound their way around you to do his bidding, but this time for more… salacious reasons. Each one wriggles under your clothes in some way or another. You aid them in their quest to strip you, tugging your shirt and pants away with ease while the masses slither just as eagerly as his hands explore.

It’s so cute how you squirm for him. It’s as if the tables have been turned oh so perfectly, leaving you just as red in the face as you’d made him. He may not have his full strength yet, but this? This more than makes up for it. One tentacle coils at your waist, holding you perfectly in place as the others find themselves far more… occupied. Your giggles turn to breathy moans, each one sung perfectly for him. You’re like an instrument only he can play, your pleasure a melody only he can create.

“W-Wo– Ah!” You gasp, head lolling to the side the very second one of those slimy appendages creeps between your legs. Your first instinct is to clench your thighs together, though you don’t get very far with having been straddling him. The tip of it swipes your clit, making you buck and whine. “Al!”

Tantalizing was… not a strong enough word for the sight before him. These appendages have always carried a degree of wetness, some leaky black ooze that only ever left a small mess, but now? Oh, now they leave clear glistening trails along your flesh that make his cock utterly ache. It’s as if he’s painting you with his own arousal, picture perfect and drenched in his love just like you should be. The tentacles trail over where he wants to see you marked most: your chest, your neck… all the way down to your pretty little pussy.

“Al, I–” You try, but you’re whimpering as more slithering lengths join in to curl around your thighs. He didn’t even have to lift a finger… There’s so many things he could do with you. He could lift you, surely, to his face. Slide his tongue that’s been so starved for you between your sopping folds. Or he could lower you onto his cock right now. Forget effort; you wouldn’t have to do a thing. He could simply maneuver you accordingly, bounce you up and down with their grip on your body until you were both fucked senseless. Or…

Wesker’s chest rises and falls with each open mouthed breath, watching with wide eyes as three smaller tendrils approach your cunt. You squirm, but you show no sign for him to stop even as they alternate swiping along your slit.

“I-I thought– mm!” You try, words as shaky as your trembling body. “T-Thought I was gonna t-take care of you instead…”

“You are…” he breathes, utterly hypnotized as more tentacles join the fray and suddenly, without warning, you’re spread completely for him, slithering lengths taking your legs while smaller ones part your drenched pussy lips. You’ve been put on exhibit, and oh… how you writhe and keen under his sopping touches. All Wesker can do is simply lie there, cock torturously hard at the sight of you like this. He dares not touch himself; he dares not even imagine it lest one of those lengths creep to coil around it to satisfy the urge.

“A-Albert– ngh!” Every cry you make fuels whatever hidden desires lurk below the surface of his mind. Nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the sight of an extra thick tentacle slinking along your leg, coiling up and up until it presses at your entrance. “O-Oh my god!” You mewl, head falling back. “I don’t– I don’t think I can– that’s too big… Al, I don’t think I can– Ah!”

Exhilaration runs down his spine as though every nerve in his body fired at once. Watching it press into you, seeing every ounce of slick drip from its effort to wriggle inside as you keen and mewl and cry out his name over and over again as if to pray to him… Wesker licks his lips, panting heavily, fighting to keep control despite that knot in his gut threatening to give at any moment. His fists bite into the sheets, threads popping as they give way to his strength.

“O-Oh g-god,” you sob, barely audible over wet squelches. “P-Please… Al, p-please!”

“I…” he tries, but he has no words. Nothing in the world could possibly explain this– why it was happening, why he was allowing it, why… why he fucking loves it.

But he does know why, deep down. Past that layer of perfect prudence and discipline lies the truth. You deserve this. You deserve every ounce of pleasure he can stuff into you. For all that you’ve done for him… you deserve everything.

You cry out over and over again as the thickness fucks in and out of you, slick drizzling from your cunt down your ass and onto the bed. It soaks his hips and cock, oozing off to coat the sheets and surely seep down into what was now a ruined mattress. But he doesn’t care. Not one bit.

The tentacles wriggle all over you, slithering and rubbing against tender flesh, restraining the intense trembling of your legs as you dangle helplessly. He can practically hear it hitting the depths of your cunt, each noisy, wet thrust coupled with your sweet songs a promise of your never ending pleasure. And oh… you deserve it. You deserve all that he can possibly give you. You were there for everything. The good, the bad, the horrifying… Every part of him is yours, which means you get this, too.

The first time you cry out his name is perfection in and of itself. You come undone so beautifully. He has to grasp his cock and squeeze the base damn near to the point of harming himself just to keep from blowing his load right then and there. Watching you practically seize in his slithery grasp, hearing you gag and gurgle on one that had slipped between your lips, knowing you’re so fucked out of your mind that you could do little else than suckle its length as if it were his cock…

Even then, it’s like he can feel it. The sensation is dull, but it is there. Your lazy tongue, the clench of your throat, the warmth of your breath, the throbbing quiver of your cunt– it’s all fucking there, and it’s all for him. You belong to him. You’ve shown him so many times, over and over again that he has you, heart, mind, body, and soul.

“That’s it, dearheart…” he coos, shaky voice barely more than a murmur. “You’re– you’re doing so perfect… You’re taking me so well.”

He feels you clench up again, walls trembling as you approach your next release. You always did like when he’d purr such things in your ear. It warms his heart in the strangest way to see it work just the same now.

“O-One more for me.” Wesker rasps brokenly, heavy breaths leaving him as he watches with an unyielding gaze. He will not miss a second of this. “It feels good, doesn’t it…? I can feel it too.” He wants nothing more than to hear you come undone for him once more. As if understanding his thoughts, the appendage in your mouth slips free, prompting you to gasp and choke desperately for air.

You moan nonstop as if it were the only sound left that you could make. It’s like you’ve been robbed entirely of higher thought and fell into a mindless state, one that could only comprehend the thickness ramming in and out of your cunt. Your sweet noises pitch up more and more with every passing second, signaling your next climax is near.

Wesker wills the tentacles to tilt you upright, the big one still fucking into you despite the position shift, and you whine weakly at the change. “Come for me, my sweet.” He commands, rising from his position to cup your cheeks between his hands. As if fully understanding his order, you do exactly that, falling apart with a breathless scream cut off by the thick length slipping from your cunt while the others force you down onto his cock. “Oh, god!” He roars, face falling into the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as his release hits him like a lightning bolt, coating your ooze slicked walls with his seed in heavy spurts.

Albert’s eyes are clenched shut, but he swears his vision has gone white. There’s nothing. Nothing at all is left in this world except for your limp form in his hold and the heat of your flesh between his teeth. Even when the oxygen in his lungs has gone stale, he still forgets to breathe. It’s your trembling fingers curling at his nape that remind him he’s even still alive.

The two of you remain like that for some time, long enough that his legs go stiff and each slithering length once wrapped around your body retreats back into him. You’re both covered in ooze, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not yet, at least.

You’re limp in his grasp, but he can tell you’re awake from the occasional scritch to the base of his neck or breath fanning against his skin.

“I… apologize.” He eventually murmurs. It’s all he can think to say. Certainly, you both would be having quite the conversation about this eventually. But, for now, this much is due. “For… having lost control.” It isn’t even an exaggeration. At some point, all thought went out the door. There was only the two of you and every salacious desire he couldn’t suppress.

He needs to become better at that.

“Mm,” you hum weakly, fingers threading through his hair the way they always do in the afterglow. “You’re full of surprises…” There’s a hint of amusement in your voice. That good natured softness with which you’ve always treated him. “We gotta… mm, when my legs work again… it’s shower time.”

He couldn’t agree more. For now though, he means to simply hold you, still buried within your heat. You feel like home. What luck to have found you…

And what bliss to know you’ll stay.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #resident evil #dead by daylight #dbd

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shybluebirdninja · 1 day

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Marked By Claws

Summary: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett had fought in wars, faced down enemies, and lived through more lifetimes than most could imagine. He was used to being alone. Until she came along—a regular human, fragile but captivating. Logan tried to fight it, convincing himself it was just instinct to protect someone so vulnerable. But soon, that protectiveness turned into something darker, something possessive.

Pairing : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Female!Human-reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst

The rain poured down in sheets outside the bar, casting a dreary haze over the darkened streets. Logan sat in his usual spot, hunched over his glass of whiskey, but his mind wasn’t on the drink. His thoughts were elsewhere—on her. The woman he couldn’t shake from his head no matter how hard he tried. The one he watched every night as she walked home from work.

It started innocently enough, or at least that’s what he told himself. She had an air about her, something that drew him in, something different from the countless others who passed through this crumbling town. But it wasn’t her scent or her face that haunted him—no, it was something deeper, something in the way she moved, the way she existed in a world that would chew her up if given the chance.

Logan’s jaw tightened as he stared out the rain-streaked window. She was late tonight. That wasn’t like her. She always passed by around this time, her coat pulled tight against the wind, her pace brisk. But tonight? Nothing.

The rain tapped harder against the glass as if mocking his rising tension.

Where the hell is she?

Logan grunted under his breath, shaking off the thought. He had no right to care. Not really. She was just some human. Fragile. Helpless. The kind that needed watching in a world like this. That’s all it was. He was just keeping an eye out.

Yeah. That’s what he told himself.

His fingers twitched, the edge of his claws tingling beneath his skin.

Relax, Logan.

But he couldn’t. Not with her out there somewhere, vulnerable and exposed. He drained the last of his drink, pushing back the itch of frustration. His mind wandered again, replaying the first time he saw her. She had been crossing the street in a hurry, nearly getting clipped by some jackass in a truck. Logan had stepped out of the bar just in time to see her stumble back to the curb, a look of startled relief washing over her face. He hadn’t thought much of it at first. Hell, people nearly got themselves killed every day in this shitty town. But something about her stuck with him. Maybe it was the way she barely reacted, like she was used to near-misses. Or maybe it was the way she held herself—quiet, careful, like someone who had learned how to stay invisible in a dangerous world. Whatever it was, Logan had noticed her. And he hadn’t stopped noticing her since.

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You were later than usual tonight, your shoes splashing in the puddles as you hurried down the familiar street. Work had been hell, dragging on longer than it should have, and now you were paying the price by walking home in the pouring rain. The chill in the air cut through your coat, making you shiver as you pulled it tighter around yourself.

The bar you passed every night was still open, the neon sign flickering in the downpour. You barely glanced at it as you walked by, too focused on getting home and out of the wet. You didn’t notice the eyes watching you from the shadows.

Logan leaned against the brick wall outside the bar, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. He had already spotted you the moment you turned the corner, his gaze following your every move. You were soaked, shivering, clearly exhausted from your day. His instincts told him to step forward, to offer help. But he stayed where he was, watching. Always watching.

You were close now, close enough that he could catch the faint scent of your skin beneath the rain. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, wanting to touch.

“Evenin’,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

You jumped at the sound, your wide eyes snapping to his in surprise. “Oh… I didn’t see you there.”

Logan shrugged, pushing himself off the wall. He took a drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing dimly in the gloom. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You offered him a faint smile, though the tension in your shoulders told him you were still wary. Smart girl. In a place like this, you couldn’t afford not to be.

“I’ve seen you around,” you said, awkwardly breaking the silence. “You’re always at the bar, right?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. Guess you could say it’s my second home.”

He watched you carefully, noting the way your eyes darted toward the road, clearly eager to keep moving. The rain was coming down harder now, drenching your clothes. You shivered again, and Logan’s brow furrowed.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden concern. “Oh, yeah… it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Don’t look fine,” Logan muttered, stepping closer before he could stop himself. His eyes flickered down the street. “You gotta walk far?”

“Just a few more blocks,” you replied, taking a step back instinctively. “I’ll be fine.”

Fine. That word again. You weren’t fine. You didn’t have a clue how dangerous it was out here. And that guy from the other night—the one who’d been walking with you, laughing, trying to get close—that asshole didn’t sit right with Logan. Guys like him didn’t just walk women home out of the goodness of their hearts. He could smell the bullshit from a mile away.

Logan’s jaw clenched. “You alone tonight?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

He took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That guy from before. The one with the umbrella.”

“Oh, Mike?” you said, realizing who he was talking about. “He’s just a coworker.”

Logan grunted, his gaze sharp. “Coworker, huh? He’s lookin’ for more than that, trust me.”

You laughed softly, though there was an edge of nervousness in it. “No, it’s not like that. He’s harmless.”

Logan’s eyes darkened. Harmless. He’d heard that line before. It was never harmless. Guys like Mike? They took what they wanted, one way or another.

“Listen,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “guys like him, they don’t give a shit about bein’ nice. They just want somethin’ from ya. You should be more careful.”

You frowned, clearly taken aback by his intensity. “I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

Logan’s grip on his cigarette tightened, the ember flaring brightly before he flicked it to the ground, grinding it under his boot. He wanted to argue, to tell you how wrong you were, how naïve. But he held back. Barely.

“Yeah, well, just… watch yourself,” he muttered, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

You nodded slowly, still unsure what to make of him. “I will. Thanks, Logan.”

Hearing his name from your lips sent a strange jolt through him, something primal, something possessive. He watched as you turned to leave, disappearing into the rain once again. The pull was stronger now. Each time he saw you, each time you spoke, it tightened like a noose around his mind.

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Days passed, and Logan found himself drifting closer to you without meaning to. He’d catch himself waiting by the bar, his eyes scanning the street, searching for that familiar form. Every time you walked by, something inside him shifted, grew darker. He knew he was crossing a line, but the beast in him didn’t care. You were his to protect, to watch over. Even if you didn’t know it.

He trailed you one night, his footsteps silent as he kept to the shadows. You were walking home, same route, same hurried pace. But this time, something was off. You were on edge, glancing over your shoulder every few steps. Someone had spooked you.

Logan’s senses kicked into high gear. His nostrils flared, picking up the scent of someone else. Someone nearby.

His claws itched beneath his skin, ready to tear into anyone who thought they could mess with you. He didn’t care if it was Mike or some other lowlife. Whoever it was, they were gonna pay.

He stayed a few steps behind, watching as you quickened your pace, clearly feeling the unease. But before he could make a move, you stopped, turning suddenly as if sensing him.

Your eyes locked with his, wide and startled.

“Logan?”

Shit. He hadn’t meant for you to see him. But there was no going back now.

“Hey,” he said, stepping out of the shadows, his voice casual despite the tension crackling in the air.

You stared at him, clearly unsettled. “Were you… following me?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Nah. Just keepin’ an eye out.”

“Why?”

His gaze darkened, the protective edge creeping back into his voice. “Because you need it.”

You stood there, staring at him like you didn’t know whether to be pissed off or scared. Logan could tell. It was written all over your face—the way your brows furrowed, lips pressed tight, trying to make sense of him. Of why a man like him would care about a woman like you. Hell, even he couldn’t explain it fully.

“Look,” you said, exhaling a shaky breath, “I don’t need a babysitter, Logan. I can handle myself.”

“Handle yourself?” Logan scoffed, stepping closer, his boots splashing through the puddles. “You’ve got no clue what’s lurkin’ out there. This ain’t about handlein’ yourself—it’s about survivin’.” His voice was gravelly, laced with the kind of warning that only someone who’d lived through hell could deliver.

You bristled, clearly not in the mood for whatever this was. “Surviving? You make it sound like I’m living in some warzone.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You are, sweetheart. Just ‘cause you don’t see the bullets flyin’ don’t mean they ain’t there.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting that kind of response. “What are you talking about? This is just—”

“Just what?” Logan interrupted, his voice gruffer now, his temper flaring. “You think people in this town are all playin’ nice? You think that guy, Mike, your little ‘coworker,’ ain’t lookin’ to get somethin’ outta you?”

You clenched your fists, the frustration rising. “He’s not like that. Not everyone is out to hurt me, Logan.”

He let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You’re so damn blind, y’know that? Guys like him? They don’t just walk you home outta the kindness of their hearts.”

You took a step back, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “You don’t know him.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took another step closer, his presence towering over you. “I don’t need to know him. I know his type.”

There was silence for a moment, just the sound of rain and your uneven breathing. You looked torn—part of you angry, part of you unsure, like maybe, deep down, some part of you knew Logan was right.

But you wouldn’t admit it.

“I’m going home,” you muttered, turning to leave, your voice shaking a little. “I don’t need this right now.”

Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist—not hard, but enough to make you stop in your tracks. He felt the heat of your pulse under his fingers, quick and erratic. His grip was firm, but he kept his claws in check, just barely. He could feel the beast inside him gnashing its teeth, wanting to drag you back, to keep you right there where he could watch you. Protect you.

“Logan,” you warned, your voice low. “Let go.”

He didn’t. Not right away. He couldn’t.

For a second, neither of you moved. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something—he didn’t even know what. Maybe he was looking for a reason to stop. Maybe he was looking for permission.

But all he found was your fear. That familiar mix of terror and curiosity. And God help him, it did something to him. Made him want to pull you closer, claim you, make sure no one else ever laid a hand on you. He could protect you better than anyone. He needed to.

But then your voice broke through his haze. “Logan,” you whispered, softer this time. “Please. Let go.”

That word—please—it cut through him in a way he didn’t expect. He blinked, his grip loosening until you slipped free, taking a step back as if putting distance between the two of you could fix whatever the hell this was.

“Go home,” Logan muttered, turning away, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from grabbing you again. “Get inside before someone else finds you out here.”

You hesitated, standing there in the rain for a moment longer, watching him. Logan could feel your eyes on him, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. He was too close to snapping. Too close to letting the obsession inside him spill out.

Finally, you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Goodnight, Logan.”

And then you were gone, your footsteps retreating into the distance, leaving Logan alone in the rain with nothing but his thoughts and the dark, gnawing hunger that came with them.

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Logan didn’t follow you home that night. He stayed rooted where you’d left him, letting the rain wash over him until it felt like it could scrub the wild thoughts from his mind. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

She’ll come around, he told himself. She has to.

But days passed, and you didn’t. You didn’t pass by the bar as often, didn’t give him more than a quick nod or an awkward wave when you did. He knew you were avoiding him, and that only made the itch under his skin worse. He wasn’t stupid—he knew he’d scared you. Hell, maybe that was for the best. Maybe if you stayed away, he wouldn’t have to deal with this… this thing inside him.

Except you didn’t stay away, not completely. And Logan couldn’t help but keep tabs on you.

It was a couple of weeks later when things started going south. He noticed it one night while he was out on a run—your apartment lights were on later than usual, shadows moving across the windows. At first, he thought you had someone over. Mike, maybe? His gut twisted at the idea, a low growl rumbling in his throat. But then, he caught a different scent. One that didn’t sit right with him.

Fear.

His instincts flared to life, sharper than before, and without thinking, Logan was on the move, crossing the streets with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a guy his size. He slipped into the alley beside your building, the rain-soaked bricks gleaming under the streetlights. He crouched low, his ears straining to hear anything unusual.

And then he caught it. A muffled shout. Your voice.

Logan didn’t even think. His claws slid out with a metallic snikt, and in seconds, he was scaling the fire escape, his senses guiding him straight to your apartment. The window was cracked open, just enough for him to push it aside and slip inside without making a sound.

The scene in front of him made his blood boil.

You were backed up against the wall, your hands out in front of you, trying to ward off a man who was way too close. Mike. Of course it was fucking Mike. He was drunk, that much was obvious. His hands were on you, grabbing at your arms, slurring something Logan couldn’t make out over the roar of rage in his ears.

“C’mon, babe,” Mike was muttering, leaning in way too close for comfort. “Don’t be like that…”

You tried to push him away, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed your wrist hard, yanking you back toward him. That was all Logan needed to see.

Before Mike could even react, Logan was on him, grabbing the bastard by the collar and throwing him across the room like he weighed nothing. Mike slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, his eyes going wide as he tried to process what just happened.

“What the fuck?!” Mike gasped, clutching his head in pain as he tried to scramble to his feet.

Logan didn’t give him the chance. He was across the room in an instant, his claws gleaming in the dim light as he stood over Mike, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. “Touch her again, and I’ll rip you apart,” Logan snarled, his voice barely human.

Mike’s face paled, his eyes darting between Logan’s claws and the murderous look on his face. “Jesus, man! I didn’t—”

“Get. Out,” Logan growled, his claws twitching dangerously close to Mike’s face.

Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with terror as he bolted out the door, stumbling down the hallway. Logan didn’t watch him go. His attention was on you now.

You were standing there, your back pressed against the wall, your breathing shallow and uneven. Your eyes were wide with shock, staring at Logan like you didn’t quite know what to make of him. Like maybe, for the first time, you were seeing the monster everyone warned you about.

Logan stepped toward you, his claws still out, his breathing heavy. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, the beast inside still roaring for blood, still wanting to tear Mike apart for even daring to touch you.

But then he saw the way you were looking at him—the fear in your eyes, the trembling in your hands—and it stopped him cold.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, trying to pull himself back. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. You were still in shock, still processing everything that had just happened.

“I didn’t mean to—” Logan started, but he cut himself off. What could he even say? He hadn’t meant to scare you, hadn’t meant to make things worse. But that was the thing about him. He always made things worse.

You took a shaky breath, your eyes flickering down to his claws, still extended, still sharp. “Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Your claws…”

Logan blinked, realizing he hadn’t retracted them yet. With a grunt, he forced the metal back into his hands, the familiar sting reminding him of what he was. A monster. Something that didn’t belong in your world.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, stepping back, giving you space. “I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “No… no, I’m glad you were here. He… he wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what to do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “You don’t ever have to deal with that. Not as long as I’m around.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, like maybe you were starting to understand. Like maybe you were starting to see him for what he really was—someone who’d do anything to protect you, no matter how ugly it got.

And that was dangerous.

But for now, you were grateful. For now, you needed him.

And for Logan, that was enough.

You were still shaking, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Logan could hear it, the way your heart was racing, the fear still pulsing under your skin. But there was something else now—something different in the way you looked at him. Not just fear.

Trust.

And that was enough to make him stay, to not walk away from this mess he’d created. He could’ve left—should’ve left. But instead, he lingered in your apartment, watching you try to catch your breath, your eyes darting from him to the door where Mike had fled.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, rubbing your arms like you were trying to shake off the whole thing. “I didn’t think—”

“Don’t,” Logan interrupted, his voice gruff but softer than usual. “Don’t apologize for that piece of shit.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still wide, searching his face. “I just… I thought he was a friend. You know? I didn’t think he’d…”

Logan’s jaw tightened again, and he fought the urge to go after Mike, to track him down and finish what he’d started. But that wouldn’t help you right now. That’d only make things worse.

“He’s not your friend,” Logan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Guys like him? They’re never just friends.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the ground like you didn’t want to admit he was right. Like maybe you’d known all along but didn’t want to believe it.

“I feel like an idiot,” you said finally, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. “God, I feel so fucking stupid.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re not stupid. You’re just… too damn trusting.”

You looked up at him again, a small, bitter smile playing on your lips. “That a bad thing?”

“For most people? Yeah. For you? It’s gonna get you hurt.”

There it was—the bluntness, the gruff honesty that Logan couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard he tried. And even though you looked like you wanted to argue with him, you didn’t. You just nodded, like you understood. Like maybe you were starting to see the world the way he did.

Logan let out a slow breath, running a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the tension that still coiled tight in his muscles. He wanted to stay close, make sure you were safe, but he didn’t want to scare you any more than he already had.

“I’ll stay outta your way,” Logan muttered, moving toward the window he’d come in through. “Just… lock the door after me, alright?”

You blinked, surprised. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, his back to you now, already halfway through the window. “I ain’t gonna crowd you.”

Before you could say anything, he was gone, slipping out into the night like he hadn’t just saved you from a man who could’ve hurt you. Like he hadn’t just shown you a side of him you weren’t sure how to feel about.

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

The next few days passed in a strange blur. You went back to work, went about your life, but things didn’t feel the same. You kept looking over your shoulder, half-expecting Mike to show up again, but he didn’t. Logan had taken care of that.

You hadn’t seen Logan since that night, though you’d felt his presence more than once. You couldn’t explain it, but you just knew he was around, watching from the shadows, keeping an eye on you. And part of you should’ve been creeped out by that—should’ve wanted him to back off.

But you didn’t.

In fact, it made you feel… safe. Safer than you had in a long time.

Which was why, on the third night after the incident, you found yourself standing outside the bar where Logan usually hung around, staring at the door like an idiot, wondering why the hell you were even here. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, hadn’t planned on… whatever this was. But something in you pulled you here.

Maybe you just wanted to say thanks. Maybe you just needed to know he was still watching over you.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell of beer and cigarettes hit you immediately, the dim lighting casting shadows over the bar, the low murmur of conversation filling the room. And there he was, sitting at the end of the bar, a beer in front of him, looking like he hadn’t moved since the last time you saw him.

You hesitated for a moment, watching him from the door. He hadn’t noticed you yet—at least, you didn’t think he had. But then, without even turning his head, he spoke.

“Gonna stand there all night, or you gonna come over here?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Of course, he’d sensed you. Logan wasn’t the kind of guy you could sneak up on.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to him, slipping onto the barstool beside him. He didn’t look at you, just kept his eyes on his beer, his jaw tight like he was waiting for you to speak first.

“You always know when someone’s watching you?” you asked, your voice light, trying to break the tension.

Logan let out a low grunt. “Call it a survival skill.”

You chuckled softly, though the sound felt a little forced. “Guess I don’t have that skill. Not like you.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t need it.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the conversation. You hadn’t really thought about what you’d say when you came here. Now, sitting next to him, you realized you didn’t just want to thank him—you wanted to understand him. You wanted to know why he felt so… protective of you. Why he’d risked so much.

“Why are you doing this, Logan?” you asked quietly, your eyes on him, searching for answers. “Why do you care so much?”

He didn’t answer right away. He took a slow sip of his beer, his eyes distant, like he was lost in thought. Then, after what felt like forever, he spoke.

“You ever have somethin’ you just… couldn’t explain?” he muttered, his voice low, rough. “Somethin’ that got under your skin and stayed there?”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Logan finally turned to look at you, his eyes dark, intense. “That’s what you are, darlin’. You’re under my skin.”

The air between you felt heavy, charged with something neither of you could quite name. You stared at him, your heart racing, unsure of what to say. What did he even mean by that? Was it obsession? Protection? Something else entirely?

“You’re just… under my skin,” he repeated, his voice softer this time, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. “And I can’t shake it.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. There was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that you hadn’t expected from a man like him. It wasn’t just about protection. It was more than that.

And that scared you. But it also drew you in.

“Logan,” you whispered, not even sure what you were going to say.

But before you could finish, he stood up, draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle down on the bar with a heavy thud.

“Forget it,” he muttered, his voice gruff again. “I shouldn’t have said nothin’.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift. “Wait, what? Logan—”

But he was already walking away, heading for the door like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Like he was running from something.

From you.

You stared after him, your mind racing, your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected any of this. But now that you knew—now that you understood what was going on in his head—you weren’t sure how to feel.

But one thing was for sure: Logan wasn’t just some protector. He wasn’t just looking out for you out of some sense of duty or responsibility.

He was obsessed.

And now, you had to figure out what the hell you were going to do about it.

You sat there in the bar, still processing Logan’s words, the way he had looked at you—like you were something he couldn’t escape, something tangled up in his very being. The intensity of it left you breathless. And the way he had just walked out? Like he was scared? That didn’t sit right.

Without thinking, you stood up and followed him, pushing through the bar’s door into the cool night air. The street was quiet, lit by the dim glow of streetlights, and you could see him walking away, shoulders hunched, his pace faster than usual, like he couldn’t wait to disappear into the shadows.

“Logan!” you called out, your voice cutting through the silence.

He stopped but didn’t turn around. For a moment, you thought he might just keep walking, leaving you standing there. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed and turned to face you, his expression hard to read.

“What do you want, kid?” he grumbled, though his tone was softer now, not as sharp as before.

You swallowed, your nerves buzzing. “I want to know what the hell you meant back there.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m not gonna forget it. You said I’m under your skin, and then you just walked out. That’s not fair, Logan.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable. It was like he was struggling, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. And for the first time, you realized how hard this was for him. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to feeling like this.

“I ain’t good for you,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You deserve better than… this.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Better than what? Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count? Someone who cares about me? Logan, I’m not scared of you. Not after everything.”

He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “You should be. You don’t know what it’s like—what I’m like. I can’t give you a normal life. Hell, I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore.”

You stepped closer, your heart pounding, but you didn’t back down. You weren’t scared. Not of him. Not of whatever this was between you two.

“I don’t want normal,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. “I want you.”

That stopped him in his tracks. Logan froze, his eyes widening just a fraction, like he hadn’t expected that. Like he didn’t know how to process what you were saying.

“You don’t know what you’re sayin',” he muttered, but there was no conviction behind his words now. “I’m a fuckin’ mess, darlin'.”

You smiled a little, despite the tension. “We’re all a mess, Logan. But that doesn’t mean you get to shut me out.”

There was a beat of silence between you, the night air heavy with unsaid things. And then, before you knew what was happening, Logan closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands gripping your arms as he pulled you closer, his eyes burning with that same intensity that had left you breathless in the bar.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he growled, his breath warm against your skin, his face inches from yours. “You don’t know what this is.”

“Then show me,” you whispered, your heart hammering in your chest. “Show me, Logan.”

For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, that he might let go and walk off into the night. But then, with a low, frustrated groan, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and full of everything he’d been holding back.

You gasped against his mouth, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands clutching his jacket as you kissed him back, feeling the heat of him, the raw power that simmered just beneath his skin. His hands slid from your arms to your waist, pulling you even closer, like he couldn’t stand the space between you, like he needed you as much as you needed him.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to be gentle even though you could tell he didn’t want to be. His claws didn’t come out this time, but you could feel the roughness in the way he touched you, like he was afraid he might break you.

But you weren’t afraid.

“Logan,” you whispered against his lips, your voice soft but sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That seemed to snap something in him. He kissed you harder, his hands gripping you tight as he backed you up against the brick wall of the alley, his body pressed against yours, trapping you there in the best way possible. It was intense, overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop. You’d never felt more alive, more wanted, than you did in that moment.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, trailing rough, heated kisses along your skin, his breath ragged, like he was barely holding himself together. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe this was as close to falling apart as Logan ever got.

But you didn’t care. You wanted all of it—all of him.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled against your neck, his voice rough, desperate. “Tell me to walk away, ‘cause I don’t think I can.”

You shook your head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “I’m not telling you to stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

Logan let out a low, almost pained sound, his hands gripping your hips as he kissed you again, slower this time, but just as intense. There was no hesitation now, no pulling back. Just him and you, wrapped up in each other like nothing else mattered.

The world outside, the fear, the danger—it all faded away. It was just Logan, his touch, his heat, the way he made you feel safe and alive all at once.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, you could feel the shift between you. Something had changed—something deep and unspoken, but undeniable.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t leave.

Instead, he kissed you again, slower this time, softer. And for the first time, he let himself believe it. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a mistake.

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writememysticfalls · 2 days

Text

Thirsty | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: Elijah is cold and distant around you... until one night, you break down in front of him. Even Originals get thirsty.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x vampire!reader

Genre: Suggestive, angsty, hot

Word Count: <1k

You were rummaging through the industrial freezer in the basement of the Mikaelson home.

You were elbow deep in ice chips, desperately searching for the only thing your body craved now you'd been turned into a vampire.

Blood.

"Where do they keep the fucking blood bags?" You kicked the freezer door so hard the metal crumpled under your boot.

"Need a hand?"

You spun around at the familiar voice.

Elijah was leaning against the door frame, watching you. He wore a pale cream shirt that was rolled up, exposing brown forearms.

Elijah always looked so put together, even when he had the blood of his enemies dripping down his chin, and congealed between his fingers.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your arm. Elijah yanked you back, using his full vampire force to turn you towards him.

You smoothed your unruly brown locks, feeling suddenly self conscious.

Elijah lifted up the lid of the freezer with one finger, peering inside.

"I'll have to make sure the maid restocks this more often."

He walked up to a portrait hanging on the wall. Pushing the frame to the side, he revealed a hidden safe. His fingers slid over the keys at vampire speed. The safe door clicked open and Elijah reached inside to pull out a heavy crystal bottle.

He poured a glass and handed it to you.

"Here, this should suffice."

You looked at the dark red liquid in the glass. The idea of drinking blood made you feel literally sick, but the gnawing at the base of your throat could only be eased by one thing. You knocked back the entire contents of the glass in one gulp.

"Thanks," you said, wiping your mouth.

Elijah gave you a tight smile.

"I've never seen you drink blood, Elijah. Hell, I've never even seen you eat." You crossed your arms. "Meanwhile I can't even go thirty minutes without thinking about where I'm going to get my next fix."

"You are a new vampire," Elijah said, sliding the portrait back in place. "Restraint takes time to master."

You tugged at your sallow cheeks. "I feel so... unnatural. I feel like my insides are rotting. It's all wrong. I'm all wrong!"

Elijah pressed his lips into a tight line.

You sank to your knees. You buried your head in your hands and started to sob.

"I should have died. What have I become?" you said, between sobs.

Elijah stood, awkwardly, watching you cry on the floor. His arms itched to hold you, but it no longer felt like his place to do so.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand. Your eyes were glistening, and your nose was red. You stood up, face to face with Elijah.

"There was a time, once..." you said, sniffing. "That you would have held me, maybe even kissed me. Now you don't even talk to me, Elijah."

Your hard exterior had melted, leaving soft, brown skin and watery eyes. You suddenly looked so young.

Elijah sighed.

"Y/n, I..." but the words died on his lips. He moved forwards, silently, till he was inches away from you.

He leant his forehead against yours, eyes slipping shut. Your arms hung limply at your sides, fingers almost touching.

Suddenly, the sound of glass splattering echoed through the room. Both your and Elijah's heads shot up.

"Elijah!" Niklaus roared from upstairs. "The love of my life is at the bottom of this bottle, brother. Come and help me find her!"

Niklaus was drunk. Something which was becoming a daily occurrence.

You stepped away from Elijah.

"Go, run after your little brother like you always do," you snapped. The prickly expression had once again masked your beautiful features.

Elijah rolled down his shirtsleeves, and did up his cufflinks.

"Do not concern yourself with matters of my family," he said, sternly. "You should focus on your transition."

You scoffed. "You don't get to tell me what to do." You turned away and stormed towards the door.

You gasped. Elijah's eyes were red, and black veins pulsed under his eyes. He snarled.

You thought he was going to attack you. Your breath caught in your throat.

Suddenly, Elijah leant down and kissed you, hard, on the mouth.

Elijah wound one hand around your waist and pulled you to his chest as he continued to kiss you. You could hear his pulse racing in your ears, you could feel his eagerness for you against your thigh.

You kissed him back with equal force. This was an Elijah you didn't know well, the man behind the façade of elegance and nobility.

—

You reached up to stroke his soft hair. But suddenly, Elijah pulled away from you.

There was a soft woosh. Elijah was gone.

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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dewdropdinosaur · 9 hours

Text

Vox Shotgun Kiss

Summary: Y/N is itching for a hit and unluckyily for them, Vox is more than happen to help out. Warning: Make-out, smoking, etc. PG-13 Inspired/for my friend @macabr3-barbi3

Club V vibrated with nightlife, the bass bouncing off the walls in disorientating waves of sex, bodies mingling with no intention but desire, and worst of all: you sat alone typing away at your cubicle above it all. The noise was an annoyance that pestered you day in and day out, the job Vox’s assistant never said it would be easy. In fact, the application did say ‘Not for the weakling.’. You had assumed that was Velvette’s wording.

Running a hand through your hair, the world was slowly becoming more and more aggravating. It had been hours since your last inhale, an excruciating amount of time since the fabricated relief filled your lungs. Just one, that’s all you need. One hit and you’d be fine the rest of the evening. Fingers scratching against your desk, manicured nails bitten to the bone; you could hold off no longer.

The door to Vox’s office stood merely a few feet away, the dark and light blue barrier between you and a moment of deliverance. Subjecting yourself to the destiny to befall you, you stood silently and walked towards the door; hand hovering over it in a resignment. Maybe you shouldn’t knock, what if he was busy? Well, he was always busy–

“Are you going to continue standing there like a goldfish or would you like to enter my office?”

With a low huff, you entered the office at the loudspeaker’s announcement. Way to announce your entry to the whole floor. Closing the door behind you with a soft click, your attention turned to the man himself.

Vox sat confidently at his desk, a pair of glasses sat neatly on his face, scanning over files and paperwork of various kinds. You’d always wondered why he needed them, his head was a TV, shouldn’t he be able to see just fine? But alas, those glasses sat perched on his face in a way that never failed to make your stomach flip.

“What do you want Y/N?”

Rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, you stepped forward.

“I was wondering…if you possibly kept any cigarettes on you?”

Peering upward, now giving you his full attention, Vox pulls down his glasses. Your question had shocked him, no doubt, something so innocent as you smoked?

“Didn’t take you for the type to indulge, doll face.” With a snap of his fingers, a drawer opened from his desk. His slender fingers curled around a half-used cigarette. Smirking as he twirled it in his hand, he watched as your eyes widened in an intense desire for it.

“I had used this earlier in the day but I suppose you could use it…if you asked nicely.”

There it was, the catch. There was always a catch with him, some little something that gave him power over anyone. Staring at the burnt butt of the cigarette, was the hit worth it? Stepping toward Vox, coweringly slow, you reach your hand out briefly. Narrowing your gaze, it all seems too easy. Just ask nicely and you get a reward, nothing is easy in Hell.

“Can I…please…have the cigarette?”

“Why of course, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely…”

Lighting the cigarette, the smoke wisps from its used leaves.

“Well, come and get it.”

Reaching out, you grasp desperately for the relief you have sought. The one thing that can stop it all and you can finally get some semblance of peace. Suddenly, Vox smirked and held the cigarette to his lips, inhaling a deep puff of smoke.

Your facade cracks and you can feel your heart sink, the anxiety rising in your chest.

“Why you motherfu–”

As you think your fate has been sealed, Vox grasps the nape of your neck and connects your lips in a fiery kiss.

Taken aback, you try to pull your lips away only to be hit with a puff of smoke, wispy ambrosia. Sighing into the kiss, you push your lips further into his desperately; hands finding their way to his shoulders to crush his body closer to you…closer to your repose. He releases the rest of the smoke into your lips, mesmerized as you greedily inhale it all. His lips eventually trail lower, the smoke long gone from his mouth. He lets out a low growl as you lean closer to him, your breath ghosting over his face, the heat of your body pressed flush against his. He can feel your heartbeat, rapid and thudding in your chest. Whatever was in the cigarette, had you long gone, eyes blown and brain fuzzy with the intensity of the hit.

He brings his mouth to your exposed neck, and his lips graze over your skin, trailing hot, wet kisses along the sensitive flesh. You let out soft mewls and moans of appreciation at his affections, your whole body felt like it was on fire and could only be quenched by his touch, sparks flying off his fingertips onto your hot sensitive skin. Vox’s lips continue to travel along your neck, his tongue tracing a wet path along your skin as he feels you shiver and moan under his touch.

A weakness is only as good as a person who knows how to wield other’s against themselves.

“Want another taste doll face?”

You couldn’t refuse.

#hazbin hotel fandom #romance #answered #request #radio killed the video star #vox imagine #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #shotgun kiss #help me this fandom has a hold on my soul

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aliesbienish · 2 days

Note

1 I neeed more parts to the study of wolves and 2 could I please request a Paul x reader where she’s trying to make him jealous by flirting with one the other pack members

Three strikes

God that man was annoying. Here you were itching for attention and Paul was paying you absolutely no mind, deep in conversation across the bonfire with Jared. The arse didn’t even save a seat beside him so now you were stuck listening to Sue and Billy discuss the merits of adding an eggs Benedict to the cafe menu versus replacing the omelets with it. Truly riveting dinner conversation.

This was either sheer ignorance or a cunning plan on his behalf. You were hoping it was the latter, getting back at you for teasing him and then leaving him high and dry the day prior. If it was just sheer ignorance your boyfriend clearly didn’t know you as well as he should.

That being said either way there was an easy solution. That solution came in the form of one Quil Ateara V. Polity excluding yourself from Sue and Billy’s conversation, which to be fair to them had gone up a notch when they moved onto preferred milkshake flavors, you made your way around the bonfire where Quil was sitting with Embry and Jake. Helpfully they were only a few people down from Paul, and easily in earshot with or without super wolf hearing.

“Hiya boys,” you greeted, plopping yourself down onto the sand in front of Quil. Standard greetings echoed from Embry and Jake.

“[Y/n], have I ever told you how beautiful you look lit by flames?” And there it was, thank you Quil you incorrigible flirt. Usually you’d brush it off, but not today.

“Thanks Quil. I’ve never noticed it before but the flames bring out the amber specks in your eyes. They’re gorgeous,”

Strike one. You heard a growl, but didn’t dare look at Paul instead focusing all your attention on Quil.

“I actually came over for nefarious reasons,”

“Did you now?”

“Oh absolutely. See I’ve heard you are the best at making smores out of everyone on the res. I want to learn your ways,”

An almost whine indicates you’ve thrown strike two. Your first date had included making smores in the small fire pit located in his backyard. Paul’s highly refined technique had been a point of arrogance, about time you got to use it against him.

“See the secret to a perfect s’mores is to always keep rotating the marshmallows to get it perfectly gooey. See?” Quil passed over a marshmallow for you.

“Genius,” you patted Quil’s arm, laying it on real thick. “I better test this out,” grabbing a piece of the marshmallow you made sure to get it over your fingers. Then eyeing Quil you placed your marshmallow covered fingers in your mouth and sucked.

“That’s it. We’re leaving,” Paul growled, stomping over and picking you up like you weighed nothing.

Strike three. He’s out.

Propped over his shoulder you couldn’t help smile and wave to the tribal members. Your plan worked, time to get the attention you deserve.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hope you enjoyed lovely Anon x

#twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote

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gallaghersgal · 3 days

Note

I don’t know if someone has sent something like this in but I had a thought the other night about getting in an argument with Richie (and previous not having gotten into many with him, being shy and staying in your lane as a waitress) in the restaurant and he says something not intending for it to be suggestive, but it is. You reacting positively to it but leaving embarrassed. He unintentionally follows you out and asks you about it. Jksodhe I’m sorry for rambling 😖😖

this ask has been wasting away since... idk probably july. but it's itching my brain all of a sudden so. mature for suggestive language. pre-canon setting!

the bullshit that richard jerimovich put you through. god, it would be enough for anyone to just walk out. but you needed this job, so you put up with his nonsense. at least he's easy on the eyes.

today he's in the dining area with fak, slamming the side of the ball machine every time the younger man makes a mistake. there's a rush happening too, or at least there was. you michael, and ebra handled it all. much to your disdain mikey just laughs it off when you bring richie's absence to his attention, telling you, "relax kid, we can handle this shit. let the old man fuck around."

you groan as you wipe your hands, fingers feeling tender from all the piping hot sandwiches you'd just served up. you march your way into the dining area intending to give that old fuck a piece of your mind. he brushes you off similarly to his friend, you swear sometimes those two are just iterations of the same person.

"fucks sake princess, i don't see a line out the door," he jabs, gesturing obnoxiously towards the now empty area.

"oh, fuck you richie," you spit back at him, reaching out to shove him lightly.

"yeah? fuck me?" he taunts, crowding into your space. "i bet you'd like to, huh princess."

he doesn't even say it with any low, lustful tone. it's a jab, an insult even. but the words send heat creeping up your cheeks and you stammer out, "f-fuckin' jagoff," before turning quickly on your heel.

crisp chicago winter air helps soothe your racing mind, the shock against your bare arms bringing you back to reality. that was embarrassing. wanting to have sex with a coworker was bad enough already, but a coworker nearly ten years your senior? that's the beginning of a workplace nightmare.

richie steps into the alley and you glare at him. his hands raise in defeat, one holding a lighter as an unlit cigarette hands from his lips. he lights the thing and takes a drag, then pulls it from his lips to observe, "you look fuckin' cold."

"oh, thank you captain fucking obvious," you bite back, but your voice trails off as he cages you in against the wall.

#sorry for the abrupt ending i have a paper to write 😭#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #❀ maggie’s musings [blurbs]#ask maggie #anon #inbox purge #🍃 posting

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sparklesdogs · 2 days

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A Drabble for TF: One

First off: A warning.

This drabble WILL contain spoilers from TF: One. Everything that is a spoiler will be under the -keep reading- line. This, unfortunately, includes the summary because I couldn't think of any other way to describe what I'll be writing about.

And hey, if people enjoy this, maybe I'll write more? Can't help it, I love this type of AU and it was the first thing that popped in my head. Starscream's appearance SLIGHTLY made that AU-itch happy.

Summary: Something that D-16, Elita One, and Bumblebee didn't realize when they encountered the mecha-deer herd on the surface was that they had a care-taker.

Characters: D-16, Bumblebee, Elita One, Orion Pax

Background: In this AU, D-16 was more rebellious and participated in the race himself. Orion Pax does not exist in the mines. More will be explained in the drabble.

Without further adeu:

Cybertron's surface was truly beautiful. Despite the fear they initially felt from the unknown and the constantly shifting surface, when you took a moment to just look, you could see why everyone used to live there.

Mountains grew and disappeared in a blink. Old structures were hidden and unveiled in moments.

Wild turbo-foxes and mecha-deer hunted and grazed in the rolling fields. Cyber-wolves prowled along ridges, seemingly able to tell how the terrain would shift before it even began.

This was the surface that greeted D-16, Elita One, and Bumblebee after their train crashed.

Despite their initial crash from the unexpected tsunami of metal, it was stunning.

D-16 idly recalled the ancient texts that had been smuggled to him during his few breaks or right before recharge. He knew that, once, Cybertronians didn't need to hide underground. Back in the times of the original thirteen Primes, Cybertronians had been divided into tribes.

The ever-graceful Seekers. The quick and musical Polyhexians. The stern and no-nonsense Praxians. The violent, but mostly misunderstood Warframes. The Pullers who relished in hauling large objects long distances. And so on and so forth. All nomadic, following the mechanimals that drove their way of life. All avoiding each other. All destroyed in the original Quintesson War.

It was assumed that large cities like Iacon and Kaon arose when the thirteen joined together and ushered the remnants of their tribes underground. They each recognized that their own tribe would only be able to survive through co-operation. And so, the surface of Cybertron was abandoned.

But as the small trio stared out over the vast open spaces, D-16 couldn't help but wonder why nobody had ever bothered trying to return. Yes, Sentinel Prime had said that the surface was uninhabitable and it was too dangerous, but had no one ever actually tried to return?

Maybe it was because mechs started emerging cog-less. It was dangerous enough for mechs to survive WITH their cogs. What chance did a cog-less mech have? If they couldn't transform to speed away from danger or to evade a rapidly-changing landscape? Somberly, D-16 brushed a servo over the empty hole in his chest. Right where a cog would be in a mech that had one.

"They're so.. elegant." Elita One suddenly whispered, yanking D-16 out of his thoughts.

"And friendly too!" Bumblebee chuckled, somehow having gotten close enough to one of them to swipe a servo over it's flank. Even more surprisingly, the mecha-deer didn't move away or even seem startled by the action. In fact, it turned to nuzzle it's face into Bumblebee's servo and started snuffling around, as if looking for a treat. They reminded D-16 of the cyber-hounds that only the most elite of the elite owned in Iacon.

"Yeah. How.. strange." D-16 said, shifting forward to hesitantly pet the mecha-deer himself. Despite being made of metal, they were surprisingly soft on the head and wiry on the rest of the body.

Unbeknownst to the trio that was now excitedly petting the mecha-deer (who was greedily lapping up the attention), they were being watched by someone far less friendly.

A pair of light blue optics glared at the group from where they were hidden in a nearby uncovered set of ruins. The figure that belonged to the pair of optics had darted into the ruins to observe the group as they got closer. Their eyes darted between the herd and the group, clearly wanting to keep an eye on both.

Suddenly, the mecha-deer jerked their head into the air, no longer responding to the petting. The other deer and the hidden figure shortly followed. One after another, the lights on the mecha-deer's antlers started flashing red and they bolted. They scattered in many directions, much to the frustration of the hidden figure. If only he still had his cyber-hound. Now, it'll take forever to round them back up himself.

His optics snapped to the trio who was just staring after the herd. It was only when they finally turned around did they finally see the danger looming above the clouds. Poor mechs seemed confused and startled. They began to run towards the ruins.

How ineffective, the figure thought. Why not just transform and speed away?

As the group raced by, the figure reached out and grasped one of them (the small, yellow one he silently noted) and pressed him up against the wall. The other two (the pink one and the gray one) quickly took note and, even though they glared at him in suspicion, followed his action.

D-16 observed this new figure with suspicion and surprise. The figure was primarily red and blue with silver accents. The most startling part of him were his light blue optics and splatters of.. paint? that stood out against his primary colors. He had seen blue optics before, yes, but none as bright and light as these. The strange paint was mainly splatters of purple, green, and white. They marked the mech in elegant (but messy) swirls and symbols he had never seen before.

The mech put a digit up to his intake, indicating that the group should remain quiet. Since this new mech seemed to know more about what was going on than they did, they listened. Even though they didn't need to breathe, every bot present held their breath.

Suddenly, one of the mecha-deer darted into the ruins. Almost immediately, a red light beam from above began to track the deer. The new mech's engine started to quietly growl before he quickly cut it off. After a few seconds of tracking the deer, the small red beam burst into a blinding light. Each mech was briefly blinded. When they looked back where the deer had been, the deer was gone. What looked like bits of metal and energon were sucked into the sky and the air returned to silence.

A small distance from the ruins, a red grid emerged from the sky. The red and blue figure's optics widened and he began to usher the group towards one of the buildings that still had enough of a roof to cover them. The trio saw where he was shoving them and nodded, quickly and quietly starting to run. They had to avoid stray red beams occasionally, but Elita and D-16 made it over quickly.

Bumblebee, on the other hand, was slower and more clumsy. The red and blue figure clearly slowed themselves to keep pace with the ex-trash-sorter, but was looking more and more nervous as the grid grew closer.

Finally, clearly fed up with the slow pace, the figure swooped up Bumblebee into a bridal carry. Both Elita and D-16 were shocked that the small, lithe figure was able to lift Bumblebee, let alone without slowing his pace!

Right before the grid reached them, the figure lunged towards a narrow beam that covered a small patch of ruins. The figure clutched Bumblebee as close to himself as possible and both they and Bumblebee closed their optics as the grid slowly passed over them.

When nothing immediately happened, they cracked their optics open just to see as the grid completely passed over the beam. The figure kept Bumblebee clutched to their chest until the beam finally disappeared. Even after that, they continued to hold Bumblebee for a few kliks before letting the small yellow bot drop to the ground with a yelp.

The figure then turned very angry optics onto the entire trio.

"Who are you?! Why are you here? Do you have any idea what you just caused?! Now I have to move the herd again!" The figure started shouting, pointing his index digit at the group angrily.

Unfortunately for him, the trio did not understand his language at all and only heard what sounded like rather irate clicks, whistles, and beeps. When he realized that the group was just staring dumbly at him, his irritation turned to confusion.

"Um, hello? Do you understand me?" He asked, optical ridges furrowed.

"Uh, hello!" Elita, ever the go-getter, responded first with a wave. The figure simply tilted his head and managed to look more confused.

"Great. Cybertronians who don't speak basic." He mumbled to himself.

"Do you speak Iaconian?" Elita asked.

"I-uh-cone-ee-an?" The figure asked, testing out the word in his intake.

"Yeah, Iaconian. You know? What everyone in Iacon speaks." D-16 piped up. The figure's gaze turned to him.

"I-uh-con?" The figure asked, olfactory sensor scrunching as if the words had a nasty smell.

"Yup! That's where we're from! Iacon!" Bumblebee cheerfully added.

"So I'll take it that you don't speak it based on your reaction to words most mechs know." D-16 stated gruffly. The figure may not have known what he was saying, but he could certainly understand the tone. His gaze turned to a glare again. As he opened his intake and raised his index digit again to likely start lecturing the other, Elita piped up.

"Ok! How about introductions? I'm Elita One." She said, pointing to herself with a smile. "Elita One!" She repeated.

"I'm B-127 or Bumblebee, but I'm trying to make Badassatron a thing!" Bumblebee said. When the figure only looked at him more confused, he chuckled and rubbed the back of his helm. "Bumblebee." He said simply.

"D-16." D-16 said simply. When three sets of optics turned to him, the figure responded.

"I'm named after the constellation Orion, but sometimes the others call me Pax because they say I'm generally one of the peaceful ones." The figure chuckled to himself.

"So.. Orion Pax?" D-16 asked. The figure- newly dubbed Orion Pax- shrugged.

"Close enough."

Ending note: Whew! That's all I've got. Let me know if this sounds interesting. I welcome all critiques and comments. Will probably post this on my AO3 in the morning too. Probably.

#fanfic #transformers #transformers one #orion pax #d 16 #elita one #bumblebee #b 127 #alternate universe #Basically an idea that wouldn't leave my head #So now I'm making it y'all's problem too #Enjoy the AU that wouldn't leave me since I watched TF: One

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muovipalikka · 17 hours

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G. So they shared 1/2

Kremy had noticed himself asking Gideon more and more often to confirm that their marrige was ironic. Especially since they had started sharing a bedroll. Gideons bedroll had disappeared somewhere. Kremy was sure that Gricko had something to do with it he just hadn't found the evidence yet. Anyway Gideon was without a bedroll and Kremy was a bit cold so he told Gideon to get over there.

Gideon accepted even if sharing a bedroll with Kremy made his stomach itch in an odd way, but he didn't want to sleep on the ground. Getting in the bedroll he jokingly said "Wasn't this supposed to have happend on our weddin' night" Kremy let out an anxious cackel and turned on his side not facing Gideon. Welp' that coud've gone better Gideon thought, but it was too late now.

He just laid there on his back waiting for sleep. Until he heard Kremy quietly ask "Our marrige is just ironic right gid?" Gideon didn't know what he was supposed to do, but say yes. Like Kremy wanted him to. So he did.

It had become a habit him asking Gideon if their marrige was ironic. Kremy probably asked him every time they went to bed. And every time Kremy would hear a simple "yea.." over his shoulder.

They had gotten some rastions today. Gideon had avoided the shelf with camping gear on it. Hopin' that Kremy wouldn't mention it and he didn't. He never did. So they continued sleeping together. Their bedroll was a little to small for the both of them and that was surely the only reason for Gideon waking up in the middle night with Kremy snuggled up against him.

Saying Kremy was a little embarrassed the first time it happend was a gross understatement. One morning he woke up with his face pressed to Gideons neck his hands around him. Kremy had succeeded at getting up without waking Gideon and continued to do so every morning after that. So what he was cold blooded, he got cold easily and Gideon was warm. He was just glad Gideon woudn't notice anything since Kremy always woke up first.

It had been weeks now since Gideons bedroll had gotten lost. Kremy had thought about getting him a new one. It wasn't like there hadn't been opportunities. They had even gotten Frost a new one. They just hadn't gotten gid a new bedroll and gid seemed to never be looking for one so they shared.

Until one morning Gricko and Twig had uncharacteristically woken up first and were hungry so they had sneeked into the tent that Kremy and Gideon now shared. Just as Gricko was leaving. He heard Twig go "Awww" then he noticed the two "husbands" cuddled up together.

Gideon woke up to Twigsy not so quietly whispering to Gricko "See I told you" "It's not ironic!" Gideon now leening on one elbow still holding kremy to his side. Tried to shush her. When Gricko tripped and dropped everything he was holding.

Kremy woke to a crash he was holding tightly onto Gideon and seeing that it was Gricko he was mortified and then he turned his head to see Twig exitedly telling Gideon something. But Kremy was too embarrased to hear anything. Gricko and Twig had seen him cuddling Gideon and since Gideon had woken up before him he had also seen it.

So Kremy deatached himself from Gideon as quikly as possible trying to save something of his immage. He didn't look at Gideon simply picking up his pots and pans from where Gricko had tripped not helping the goblin up. He quickly started on breakfest. Noticing Frost and Torbek peeking out from their tents. He thought "great everyone knows, now I'll never live this down"

Gideon was a bit confused at Kremys sudden exit, but maybe he was just irritaided at having been woken up he thought until he focused back on twigsy who had practically climed on Gideons chest still prattling on about how she knew about the two of them and then he realised Kremy was embarassed.

It was evening now and Kremy had avoided him all day. Gricko was preparing Hootsie for bed and Gideon was in his old tent which now belonged to Twigsy. She had made sure he tucked her in every night. Gideon was concidering asking her if he could sleep here tonight. Since Kremy had been avoiding him.

Gideon hadn't come to their tent yet and Kremy was worried he woudn't come at all. Kremy gathered a bit of courage and walked to Twig's tent. Seeing Gideon there tucking her in made his heart swell.

"gid you coming to bed?" Was all Gideon needed to hear to practically jump up and say goodnight to Twigsy. Smiling at his husband.

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

Ok I started writting this last wednesday and it just isn't stopping so it's gonna be two chapters.

⇩Here are some of my other ideas if you wanna cheak em out!⇩

I guess I write now so I think I'll be making a poll so look out for that

Thanks for reading!

#legends of avantris #muovipalikan ramblings #kremy x gideon #kremy lecroux #gideon coal #loa #legend of avantris #once upon a witchlight #twig toadspring #gricko grimgrin #hootsie grimgrin #morning frost #torbek

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the-yearning-astronaut · 2 years

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My head's starting to itch like hell again... At this point I'm like. 🤏🏻 This close to having all my hair chopped off despite enjoying it long.

#i use medicated shampoo and OTC shampoo made specifically for people with sensitive skin #and a non scented non everything shampoo #and my washing routine is down to washing it 1-2x a week because washing it more makes it lank and greasy #and it all had been helping but now the itch is back #except instead of being along my hairline its on my crown and at the back of my head #im gonna fuckin scream #fox thoughts

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austerulous · 2 years

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Maybe I shouldn’t be tweaking my muse list while I’m still rocking a fever but, fuck it, we ball. I’ve removed Saint Adeline and the Dancer, and I’m adding a new test muse:

› MARCO BODT – ( Attack on Titan )

#i haven't written marco in 2+ years please be gentle #the aot rpc is small but steady and it's so nice to see it picking up again ♡#i'm delighted to report that anri now has an aot verse to play with too #i am sorry about adeline and ceridwyn though #they've been on and off my list a few times so they may come back again #they didn't have active threads but there was an prompt or two for them #and i had been plotting them with folks #sorry it won't come to fruition!#i just need to make some attempt to keep my little lizard brain in line #i will be giving anri a bloodborne verse #to help me scratch that itch #maybe as a blood saint maybe as a caretaker of the children of the orphanage #( though she wouldn't be privy to the knowledge of what happens to those children )#( she couldn't condone it / her faith is not strong enough to participate in or permit experimentation on children )#anyway i hope you all have a good saturday and a chill weekend ahead of you ♡#i slept for 10 hours last night istg i better start feeling better soon 😤#i've been ' cancel everything / stay home ' sick for a week now - who has time for that???#i didn't get back to people re. plots yesterday but maybe today!!!#◈ — ooc; puffin speaks

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weskie · 1 day

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What You Deserve (Albert Wesker x amab!Reader)

18+ | 2700 words, salacious use of tentacles, post re5 wesker, one of those things that was meant to be sweet but became nasty, afab!reader version here | Fic Directory

You've taken such good care of him. Isn't it time he rewards you? Be careful though. Some things are still a little… new.

You were something else. Frankly you always have been, but now more than ever.

“Want some help?” You ask, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

“Seems like everything's in working order,” you coo playfully in his ear.

What's wrong with him? Why is he so… desperate?

Suddenly, a humming laugh escapes you, reverberating against his tongue before you break away. “Again, huh?” You breathe.

Again… yes.

“W-Wo– Ah!” You gasp, head lolling to the side the very second one of those slimy appendages creeps between your legs. Your first instinct is to clench your thighs together, though you don’t get very far with having been straddling him. The tip of it ghosts over the length of your cock, making you buck and whine. “Al!”

“Al, I–” You try, but you’re whimpering as more slithering lengths join in to curl around your thighs. He didn’t even have to lift a finger… There’s so many things he could do with you. He could lift you, surely, to his face. Slide his tongue that’s been so starved for you from base to tip and wrap his lips around the head of you, suckling away at your dribbles of arousal. Or he could lower you onto his cock right now. Forget effort; you wouldn’t have to do a thing. He could simply maneuver you accordingly, bounce you up and down with their grip on your body until you were both fucked senseless. Or…

Wesker’s chest rises and falls with each open mouthed breath, watching with wide eyes as three smaller tendrils approach your hole. You squirm, but you show no sign for him to stop even as they alternate swiping along your opening.

“I-I thought– mm!” You try, words as shaky as your trembling body. “T-Thought I was gonna t-take care of you instead…”

“You are…” he breathes, utterly hypnotized as more tentacles join the fray and suddenly, without warning, you’re spread completely for him, slithering lengths taking your legs while smaller ones find their way to your rear, baring your hole to him. You’ve been put on exhibit, and oh… how you writhe and keen under his sopping touches. All Wesker can do is simply lie there, cock torturously hard at the sight of you like this. He dares not touch himself; he dares not even imagine it lest one of those lengths creep to coil around it to satisfy the urge.

“O-Oh g-god,” you sob, barely audible over wet squelches. “P-Please… Al, p-please!”

“I…” he tries, but he has no words. Nothing in the world could possibly explain this– why it was happening, why he was allowing it, why… why he fucking loves it.

You cry out over and over again as the thickness fucks in and out of you, slick drizzling from your ass onto the bed. It soaks his hips and cock, oozing off to coat the sheets and surely seep down into what was now a ruined mattress. But he doesn’t care. Not one bit.

The tentacles wriggle all over you, slithering and rubbing against tender flesh, restraining the intense trembling of your legs as you dangle helplessly. He can practically hear it hitting the depths of you, each noisy, wet thrust coupled with your sweet songs a promise of your never ending pleasure. And oh… you deserve it. You deserve all that he can possibly give you. You were there for everything. The good, the bad, the horrifying… Every part of him is yours, which means you get this, too.

The first time you cry out his name is perfection in and of itself. You come undone so beautifully, cock spurting your release onto his chest. He has to grasp himself and squeeze the base damn near to the point of pain just to keep from blowing his load right then and there. Watching you practically seize in his slithery grasp, hearing you gag and gurgle on one that had slipped between your lips, knowing you’re so fucked out of your mind that you could do little else than suckle its length as if it were his cock…

Even then, it’s like he can feel it. The sensation is dull, but it is there. Your lazy tongue, the clench of your throat, the warmth of your breath, the throbbing quiver of your walls– it’s all fucking there, and it’s all for him. You belong to him. You’ve shown him so many times, over and over again that he has you, heart, mind, body, and soul.

“That’s it, dearheart…” he coos, shaky voice barely more than a murmur. “You’re– you’re doing so perfect… You’re taking me so well.”

You moan nonstop as if it were the only sound left that you could make. It’s like you’ve been robbed entirely of higher thought and fell into a mindless state, one that could only comprehend the thickness ramming in and out of your hole. Your sweet noises pitch up more and more with every passing second, signaling your next climax is near.

Wesker wills the tentacles to tilt you upright, the big one still fucking into you despite the position shift, and you whine weakly at the change. “Come for me, my sweet.” He commands, rising from his position to cup your cheeks between his hands. As if fully understanding his order, you do exactly that, falling apart with a breathless scream cut off by the thick length slipping from your ass while the others force you down onto his cock. “Oh, god!” He roars, face falling into the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as his release hits him like a lightning bolt, coating your ooze slicked walls with his seed in heavy spurts.

You’re limp in his grasp, but he can tell you’re awake from the occasional scritch to the base of his neck or breath fanning against his skin.

He needs to become better at that.

He couldn’t agree more. For now though, he means to simply hold you, still buried within your heat. You feel like home. What luck to have found you…

And what bliss to know you’ll stay.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #resident evil #dead by daylight #dbd #edit: missed a couple anatomy terms when translating from afab to amab. my b. should all be fixed now

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writingsbychlo · 1 month

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WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott

summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn't realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

word count; 3007

notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it's you, please let me know!!

If there was one thing about Theodore Nott that couldn't be denied, it was that he loved with everything he had.

He loved his friends; he was loyal to a fault and he’d never let them down. He loved his family, he wrote over fifteen letters a week to all his aunties and cousins, and still held onto his mother’s recipe book, even to this day.

And he loved, adored, his girlfriend with everything that he had. He’d do anything for her, crawl across hot coals if she asked, give up his magic and his money and his legacy, just to make her happy. She’d never asked as such of him, still blushed when he pulled out his wallet when they shopped and smiled brighter than the sun when he gave her a handmade card or something he’d cooked. So, to his eyes, it didn’t seem all that much when he decided to give up smoking for her.

She hadn't asked him to, never even pulled a face when he smoked. But Theo was damn sick of trying to blow the smoke away from her when she joined him at the astronomy tower, cuddled up to his chest, because he didn’t want that poison near her. He hated watching her shiver on the colder nights, he hated waking her in the middle of the night when he got up to satiate that itch, and he hated thinking of a future where he left her too soon, running short on time, because he ruined himself.

He chucked his last box into the fireplace one impulsive morning, and thought he might go cold turkey. He’d been so moody by lunchtime that he’d almost bitten Enzo’s head off over the way he pronounced ‘tomato’. That afternoon, he’d ditched his classes and trudged through the snow to the floo connection at the Hog’s Head, and picked up enough nicotine patches from a muggle supply store to knock out a fully grown Hippogriff.

He’d torn the packaging off of one in the grimy restroom at the back of the store and slapped it onto his bicep, and almost collapsed from the relief it gave him. It wasn’t nearly as effective as picking up a packet from the newsagent’s stand he’d passed would’ve been, but as soon as his fingers had twitched to pick up a box, your face had flashed through his mind. Your face, smiling at him, your face that morning telling him how proud you were of him when he’d shared his goals in hopes of support, and it was enough to deter him from the purchase.

You were his strength, once again, as you’d always been.

And truly, you were so proud of Theo. Changing his patches for him every evening, in time with that first one. Reading up on the muggle solutions, and making sure you were fully versed on how to help him. Keeping him busy seemed to help, when he got bored, his eyes started flicking towards the door, and the slight irritability he’d been able to keep a lid on pretty well would begin to flare up. For the most part, he’d been staying at your dorm, in an active attempt to keep away from Mattheo, who wasn’t quite ready to give up his comfortable vice just yet.

Unfortunately, as the days went on, while Theo seemed to be handling it just fine, you were struggling. The irritability grew, even Draco’s breathing was making you want to snap pencils in half in the library, or throw Enzo off the astronomy tower if he scraped his fork on his plate one more time. You were ravenous, and nauseous, all at the same time. You wanted to eat everything but could hardly hold it down. You were dizzy, and fatigued, and your grades were going to start slipping if this continued, because it had been almost a week since you’d been able to concentrate on any thought longer than a minute, never mind a whole class.

And now, you were lying in bed, rubbing at your eyes angrily but unable to sleep as you stared at the ceiling. Theo, for once, was sleeping soundly beside you. Since giving up smoking, his sleep patterns had been getting better, while yours were getting worse by the night. Almost a week, and you’d barely gotten nine hours of sleep put together.

When you shuffled again, pressing yourself a little closer to Theo as you rolled onto your side, he began to surface. The arm over your midriff tightened, pulling you in until your hips were bracketed against his, and he chuckled sleepily into your neck. Burying himself in, he pressed a kiss there, and another, and another. The rough pounding of your heart settled as you clasped Theo’s hand in your own, holding them to your chest as he littered your shoulder with kisses.

At your sigh, he rolled you over, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning. Shaking his hand free from your own, he stroked the back of a finger along your cheek, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As his hand settled on the side of your neck instead, yours slipped up to cup his jaw, and you melted into the tender love he offered you in the darkest hours.

“What’s wrong, tesoro? Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” you rebuffed, fingers lifting to comb through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes as he blinked himself a little more awake.

He shrugged, “This is about the time I’d normally go for a smoke.” He murmured, and your eyes flickered to the clock.

You knew well enough the schedule Theo used to keep while smoking. Your timetable had slowly synched to it over the time you’d been dating. He’d wake up during the night, at some point around two, and disappear for a smoke. He’d take twenty minutes, or thirty if he bumped into Mattheo, and then he’d come back to bed.

You didn’t mind the disturbance. Not when he’d come back slightly chilled from the night air and snuggle in close to you, wrapping himself around you.

“Actually, this is the time you’d normally come back from having a smoke, and give me my midnight kisses.”

“Is that why my girl is so restless tonight? Because I owe her some kisses?” He teased, leaning down until your noses were bumping, and you could taste the mint on his breath. Normally, he tasted like smoke, not toothpaste, and the shock of his warm lips instead of cold ones made you hum.

The languid kisses melted the time away, his hand sliding up your shirt, sitting on your ribs and squeezing softly as he lowered himself down, covering your body with his own. Theo had always been your comfort, and your happy place. Being in his arms made you feel safe, and his kisses made you feel relaxed. As he licked his way into your mouth lazily, you anticipated the hazy blur of relaxation that usually followed when he kissed you.

But, like usual recently, it never came. Instead, when he finally pulled back, and pecked the tip of your nose, he found you frowning, instead of smiling up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You huffed, frustrated at yourself, at your confusion and the growing irrational irritation. “It’s not the same.”

“What’s not the same, bella?”

“Your… your kisses.” Your words trailed to a whisper, knowing he wouldn't understand, and the hurt that flickered across his face made your heartbreak.

“They’re not?”

“No. I don’t know why.” His lips curled further at the sides, and the look on his face made you want to cry. It made you hate yourself, aggressively, and if you could tear out your own heart and give it to him just to see him smile again, you would. Just another thing you’d been suffering with lately, an overwhelm of your emotions, worse than any mood swing you got when you were on your period. “It’s not you, Teddy, it’s me. You’re still my happy place, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

“You’re not a problem, bella. But we should figure it out. I don’t want to… kiss you wrong, and see that look on your face. What’s different, tell me what’s changed?” His sweet words made tears prickle at your eyes, and you sniffed sadly as you looked at him.

“I love you so much, Theo.”

“I know, tesoro. I love you too.” His thumb smoothed over your cheek, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Your snap made his eyes widen. “You’re just… different. You don’t kiss the same way, you used to get all needy when you came back from a smoke, but you don’t anymore, and you taste different! You taste like mint right now, and it just doesn’t make me feel the same way afterwards.”

Your words were jumbled and hurried, rushed out as you smoked them and his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher what you meant. Second ticked by into silent minutes as Theo’s wonderful mind ticked and whirred, thinking the problem through, and playing with the information. Then, before you could say anything else, something clicked. You could see it in his eyes, when the gears stopped turning and the thoughts stopped flowing because he’d found the answer.

Pulling away from you, he sat up, kicking back the covers and letting in the cold air, before moving across the room and shuffling through his gym kit left in the corner. Pulling out a nicotine packet from the box inside, he shook it out, using his teeth to tear open the packet as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting yourself up, you propped yourself in the pillows as he peeled off the plastic backing, and tried to unstick his fingers from it, holding it by the corners.

“You’ve only had your patch on for nine hours, Teddy, it’s not time to change yet.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and settling in beside you on the bed, legs folded underneath himself. “This isn’t for me, bella. Take off your shirt.”

Slipping your arm out of your shirt, you pushed it to the side, watching as Theo brushed cotton fibres off of your shoulder, before sealing the patch onto your skin. He made sure it was properly sealed down, flattening it to your skin, before feeding your arm back through the sleeve of your shirt. He smoothed the top back down your torso, pressing a cheeky kiss to your breast over your heart as he did, and sitting back on his legs to wait.

“Give it a second, then tell me how you feel.” He whispered, the moment feeling entirely too fragile as his hand took yours, fingers linked together. He kissed along your knuckles, his eyes locked on your face, waiting. And the moment you felt it hit, you knew he saw it too.

It was like a cool, soothing balm over a raw, aggravated wound. It felt like running cold water on a new burn or healing a painful graze with a quick Episky. “Oh, Merlin…”

“I know, tell me about it.” He mumbled, the smile on his face at victoriously solving the problem melting away as realisation set in. “Cazzo, bella, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have a nicotine addiction, and it’s my fault. All that time you spent with me at the tower, and the smoke on me, and kissing you as soon as I finished smoking. All your moodiness these last few days—”

“Hey!”

“It’s true, baby. It all makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and squeezed your hand tighter in the other. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I quit because I didn’t want this to happen to you, I didn’t want my problems to poison you, but it’s too late.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, Teddy.” You demand again, pulling him in, and his mouth collides with yours as he makes a subtle groan of surprise and pleasure.

His hand gripped the headboard behind you, the other skimming down your side. As you leaned back into the pillows, you took him with you, his body falling over your own, slotting between your thighs as our hearts thudded together where his chest pressed to yours. Your hands slid over his shoulders, skimming down his back, and he moaned again as your fingernails scraped across his lower back as you tugged at his shirt.

He sat up, letting you pull it off of him, before his arms were back, caging you in on either side as he fell back down against you. Pulling one of your legs up to sit on his hip, he dragged himself away from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw, to the pulse point on your neck and back up.

“Merde, bella. What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re perfect, Theo.” You smiled, leaning up to steal more kisses from his lips that he was happy to reciprocate, “You’re perfect, your kisses are perfect. I knew it was me, not you. I was the problem.”

“A problem I gave you,” He groaned, his hips rolling against your own as you giggled breathlessly.

“Yeah, whatever. Now we’re quitting together. That’s the promise we made, we do everything together, right?”

“Damn right, tesoro.” He growled, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw, as he began to make his way down your body. Your fingers were loose in his hair, settling back in the pillows, eyes slipping closed as he kissed along the insides of your thighs, teasingly. Finally, your body could relax, no longer tense and buzzing, but the foggy comfort of the night made your muscles ease into the bed, your body feeling heavy, and you sighed in bliss.

Theo mumbled something, and you let your legs fall a little further apart, but your grip on consciousness was falling further and further away as the nicotine coursed through your body, finally letting you ease into sleep you’d missed for days.

“Bella,” Theo said, his voice sharper, and you stirred, working hard to force your eyes open, but they’d only made it halfway. His hair was ruffled, eyes wide and lips swollen, but his smirk melted away from his face into a tender smile as he looked down at you.

“Sorry, what’d you say, baby?” The words slurred out of you, and he chuckled. His fingers unhooked from the sides of your shorts, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “M’sorry, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden.”

“S’okay, bella. Never apologise. C’mere, let’s just cuddle.”

Tucking your body into his, you shuffled your hips back into him, and he threw his leg over yours as he held you tight to his body. “You’re hard.”

“It’ll go down, don’t worry.” He snickered, kissing the back of your head. “S’your fault anyway.”

“Sorry…” You whispered, again, sleepily. “I’ll make it up t’you t’morrow.”

“Go to sleep, amore.”

But you’d already drifted off.

It was just as you were closing your History of Magic book, that Theo announced his presence in the common room as he walked in alongside Mattheo. They were loud, and raucous, and thankfully, you were less inclined to bite their heads off for it today.

In fact, alongside Enzo, you’d been able to catch up on all of the History homework you’d been missing out on for the last week or so, getting you back on track for at least one of your subjects.

“Patch change time, bella!” Theo announced, making his way over to you as he untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons down the front. Tugging the tie out of the way, he crashed down ungracefully onto the couch beside you, Mattheo nudging Draco to move up so he could sit down too.

This had become a regular part of your routine now, and you pushed the edges of his half-unbuttoned shirt aside to reveal the patch sitting on the middle of his left pectoral. Picking at one corner, you peeled it away gently, careful not to tug on his skin as you did, and Theo watched on adoringly in silence as you took care of him. Unwrapping a new patch, you brushed off the spot, before sticking a new patch onto him and smoothing down the bandage.

He patted it himself, before doing a couple of the buttons on his shirt back up for modesty, as though he hadn't already given half of the common room a show, before he leaned in to peck your lips. His fingers fell to the buttons of your shirt, and he began to undo them slowly. “Your turn.”

He undid just enough to reveal your shoulder, without letting anyone else catch a glimpse of anything underneath, and as he leaned down to begin peeling away the old patch, you caught Enzo’s confused expression.

“Why are you wearing a patch?” He asked, and Theo laughed to himself quietly as he changed your old one out.

“Because loverboy here got me addicted too, through kisses and secondary smoke.”

The others burst out laughing, unfettered by your glaring as they made kissy sounds and crude remarks, while Theo buttoned your shirt back up. Your glare turned to him as you caught sight of his smile, and he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his lips. “What can I say, bella? I’m just that good.”

“Oh, shut it,” You smacked his chest, and he took your hand, tugging you forward to cuddle you into his chest as he kissed your temple.

“I happen to think it’s adorable that as a by-product of how you got addicted, that means you were addicted to me.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes rolled, and he squeezed you even tighter.

“You had me addicted to you without any substances at all, bella. Just you.”

“Alright,” You scoff, “Stop sweet-talking me.”

“Never.”

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott/reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott/you #theo nott #slytherin boys #harry potter #theo nott x reader #theo nott/reader #theo nott x you #theo nott/you #lorenzo zurzolo #lorenzo zurzolo x you

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ayyy-pee · 3 months

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ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕗𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕤

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Female Reader

Summary: But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember.

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

Sanemi is just so down bad for reader.

Story Warning: Smut, Alley Sex, P in V sex, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Sanemi being bad at feelings, Secret Flings, Secretly in Love, Sneaking Around, Some canon Giyuu hate from Sanemi, Reader is a Hashira too!

Art by: krit961 (Twitter)

A/N: This is my first time writing for this fandom ever, but the Sanemi brainrot has been so INSANELY strong I just had to write SOMETHING up. It's nothing crazy and I'm rusty because it's been awhile for me but ugh. THIS ONE IS FOR YOU SANEMI!!!! Also shoutout to @lemonlover1110 for helping me with the title!

“We should head back…” You sigh, breaths coming rapidly. “Before…” A quiet gasp interrupts your words when you feel the sting of teeth sinking into your neck. “Before the others notice…”

”Fuck the others,” a gravelly voice growls into the juncture of your neck. Large hands grasp your thighs hard, holding them wide open as a hard form sits between them. “Don’t give a fuck if they notice, either. Maybe Tomioka will stop staring like a lovesick puppy if he figures it out.”

He buries his face further into your neck, grumbling against your skin. Something along the lines of “I hate that guy” and “I should gouge his eyes out”.

Your fingers slip into the snowy white tresses at the nape of his neck, gripping hard and pulling so that you can see his face. Pretty, long lashes cover hooded purple eyes that soften the moment they catch sight of you. The softness is such a contrast to the deep, pitted scars scattered along his face. But he’s beautiful all the same.

“Sanemi…”

At the sound of his name on your lips, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re gonna defend him–”

“Sanemi –”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Your lips set into a deep frown, and Sanemi matches your expression, stubborn as ever. “What is your issue with Giyuu anyway?”

Sanemi scoffs, “Giyuuuuuu,” he mocks with a nasally tone. “Stop talking about him.”

“You brought him up!”

His mouth finds yours, rough and hungry, all consuming. It’s all teeth and tongue, nipping at your lips because he knows they’ll still be just swollen enough by the time you both get back. He’s marking his territory in his own way, as much as he can. Possessive and jealous, even when he knows he has no reason to be, no right to be. But he can’t help it.

You don’t belong to him, you don’t belong to anyone. Because you know it wouldn’t be smart to commit to any one person. Not in this line of work.

Sanemi has you pressed against the bamboo fencing in the darkest part of an alleyway, just outside of the Ubuyashiki Mansion with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. It’s your usual meeting spot when you’ve been separated for some time, both of you too impatient to wait until the early morning hours when the Hashira meeting has finally ended to see each other.

“Fuck me,” Sanemi groans against your lips. He places an arm beneath your ass, holding you up as his other hand hikes your uniform skirt up to your waist. “Swear this gets shorter every time I see you.”

A giggle slips past your lips, because it absolutely gets shorter every time he sees you. You do it on purpose because you know it drives Sanemi up the wall to see little peeks of your ass and not be able to do anything about it. Makes him even crazier that he knows others can see it, too, and he can’t do anything but shoot death glares at anyone who dares to let their gazes roam.

But you can’t let Sanemi know that. So you pout, laying your palms against his exposed chest and tracing his scars with your fingertips. You watch as his eyes flutter, sensitive to the touch. “You don’t like it? I can always request a change in uniform…”

Sanemi groans, leaning forward and kissing you hard. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He presses his groin into your, evidence of his arousal against your soaking core. “You look so good in it.” His hand slinks between your bodies, thumb going straight to your clit, where he presses down, a shit eating grin spreading across his face when your back arches off the wall and you moan. “Look even better in it when you’re making that face.”

Your nails dig into his scars and Sanemi’s reaction is automatic, hips rocking forward roughly and now you’re both whining into each other’s mouths. You’re sure if anyone came across the two of you, you’d appear as this horny couple who couldn’t bother to wait until they got home to dry hump each other. And outside of the couple part, they’d be correct. Sanemi ruts against you, his erection running deliciously along your clothed cunt. Your lips slot together, tongues deep in each other’s mouths as Sanemi grunts into yours, and you keen into his.

There’s not much time to waste, you’re meant to be at the mansion soon. It would be suspicious if one Hashira, let alone two were missing when the Master arrived and if asked, the crows would spill your secrets in a heartbeat. You need to hurry. And Sanemi feels the pressure too. Even though he loves to annoy you pretending he doesn’t care about being late or cluing in the others on what’s going on, he would never disrespect the Master.

Pausing his movements and leaning back to peer down at you, Sanemi sighs. He’s so painfully hard, his length throbbing within the confines of his uniform as he drinks in the sight of your kiss swollen lips, just the way he wanted them. And your face flushed, pupils blown wide as all hell with arousal. He’s sure he looks much the same, knowing you’re just as possessive as he is, though you hardly show it. It’s simply easier to hide your little territorial marks, the scratches you leave on him when they blend in so well among the rest of his scars.

Your fingers ghost along his chest, finding his nipples and you pinch the hardening buds, smirking when you see the way Sanemi’s eyes almost roll back. He can’t take another fucking second of this teasing. Not after he hasn’t seen you in who knows how long. He wants you badly that even your voice is enough to make him ruin his pants right now. It’s the semi-annual Hashira meeting tonight and he’s not willing to wait until Himejima is done yapping to have you.

Sanemi tugs at his uniform, getting his pants down just barely enough to pull his cock out. The tip is angry, red, just as desperate to be inside you as Sanemi. It glistens with his desire for you and you only.

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” He tells you, hooking a finger into your undergarments and pulling them to the side. He runs his digits through your folds, hissing when he feels how drenched you are. It helps when he slips two fingers into you, mouth falling open when you throw your head back with a cry, your walls clamping around him. This Sanemi’s favorite part. Watching the way your brows knit together, how your pretty teeth dig into your plush bottom lip to bite back your moans, how your pussy makes the most lewd noises as he pumps his fingers into you.

You are glorious.

Always have been. It’s why he can never get enough of you. You’re insanely strong, clearly. You’re a Hashira, standing alongside him and some of the strongest in the corps. But you’re also blessed with a beauty that rivals every woman Sanemi has ever laid eyes on. He’s drawn to you in ways he cannot explain, ways he doesn’t need an explanation for. It’s why he hates catching the little glances from a certain other Hashira. Not that anyone knows what you two have going on, but all Sanemi knows is that he –

“Sanemi…” you whimper, eyes gazing softly at him. “Please. I need you.”

And he doesn’t need to hear more. His lips crash against yours as he swiftly pulls his fingers from you, gripping his length tightly and pumping himself. “How bad do you need me?” He asks. Because he needs you so fucking bad right now he can’t think straight. His mind is foggy, his body burns with his lust for you.

“So, so bad, Sanemi,” you loop your arms around his neck, kissing him just as eagerly as he kisses you. “I need you more than anything.”

Sanemi groans, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance. But his eyes never leave your face, even as the tip breaches your walls and makes him want to shut his eyes and focus on not cumming embarrassingly fast. He wants to see you, watch the way you lose yourself when he splits you open. The thought of it has him pulsing painfully in his hand. He rolls his hips forward, slowly, gritting his teeth when your wet warmth envelops him. “Still so goddamn tight for me,” he grunts. “Your greedy cunt is sucking me right in, fuck.”

Your nails dig into the fabric of Sanemi’s shirt, hanging on for dear life as Sanemi pushes deeper and deeper into you. As many times as you’ve been in this position with Sanemi, it always feels like the first time. He’s so long and thick, you have to adjust every time he slips into you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and Sanemi pauses.

“You okay?”

“Yes…just…fuck me, please, Sanemi…”

He grips your thighs, pushing you back against the bamboo fencing to hold you in place. And then he thrusts forward, bottoming out in one swift motion and you both cry out in unison, the overwhelming pleasure making you both shudder.

“Fucking hell,” Sanemi sighs. He places his hands beneath your ass, keeping you still while he rears his hips back, only to slam back into you over and over. He pounds into your pussy at a relentless pace. Half because you’re on one hell of a time crunch, and half because he can’t help it. He feels animalistic when it comes to you, fucking into you mindlessly because it just feels so goddamn incredible. Every thrust feels better than the last, your warm walls clenching around him with each snap of his hips.

“I can’t go that long without you again…” Sanemi croaks, catching himself because he feels he’s getting too sentimental. “...without your pretty little pussy.”

“God, just say you missed me, you asshole.” You tell him, moving your own hips to meet his strokes. Though your words come out as more of this pathetic whimper than an actual demand and it makes Sanemi’s hips stutter. Just briefly. His hands on your ass lift you up before pulling you to sink back down on him.

Sanemi chuckles, leaning back just enough so that he can look between your bodies, watch the sticky strings of your slick connecting you, watch how his dick disappears. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” You cry when Sanemi hits a particularly tender spot. “Shit, I missed you so much, Sanemi.”

His brows rise, a little surprised by the confession, and a loud one at that. “Oh?” He kisses you hard, keeping his pace. Your confession turns him on more than he’s willing to admit. He missed you, too, though it’s harder for him to say so. Instead he fucks all of his feelings into you.

How he misses you when you’re apart, because his thoughts are dangerously distracted wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with, if you’re alive.

How he wishes you’d be assigned missions together, so he could watch you tear a demon's head straight from their shoulders. Then find somewhere to stay the night so he can fuck you on every surface possible (He’s done this with you before. He wants to do it with you again).

How he wishes he could open his mouth and tell you how he truly feels.

But those feelings have always been foreign to him. Sanemi is lucky you understand his silence, that you accept his actions for what they are and let them speak for him. You accept everything he gives you happily. And as you tighten your legs around his waist, as you quietly let your pleasure be heard by him and him alone, as your walls clamp down around him with your release, convulsing and pulling him into you, Sanemi can only thank the Gods for every shitty circumstance that led him to you.

Does he deserve you? Probably not. Does he care? Absolutely not.

Because you chose him. This secret…whatever this is. Out of anyone in this world, you chose Sanemi.

And it’s enough to send him over the edge with you, gasping desperately for air as he tries to find your lips again. He closes his eyes, pushing himself as deep as he can as his release floods your walls. It’s so much, a build up over time and he knows his seed will be dripping out of your core before he’s even had a chance to pull out. It’s always this way. Because Sanemi doesn’t bother entertaining other women when he’s away. He only wants you. So the second he’s within the same vicinity as you, he has literally so much to give.

You never seem to mind.

Sanemi breaks the messy kiss, placing gentle, sweet pecks to your cheek before he leans back to stare down at you. That fucked out look on your face almost has him getting hard again. But you don’t have time for that, so he just watches you and you watch him. And he’s glad for the fact that you can’t see the way his mind is racing with only thoughts of you, thoughts of this feeling he’s buried so deep trying to claw its way up Sanemi’s throat.

But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember.

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

It's a little more than ridiculous actually, the way neither of you can resist sneaking glances, hiding touches, making excuses to leave on missions together. You and Sanemi…you're drawn to each other, your strings of fate knotted tightly together. It’s become impossible to leave each other alone. You don't think you'd be able to resist what you're doing even if you met as two civilians on the street. Hell, you couldn't resist each other all those years ago when you were low ranked corps members.

Training was a confusing hell back then, every session filled to the brim with fury and a strange and thick tension neither of you could put your finger on until way down the line. It wasn't until one particular training session when Sanemi had you pinned to the ground, his strong hips pressing into yours, that you then understood what that tension was. The evidence was apparent in the way Sanemi's hard stare bore into yours, how the heat between your legs began to ignite when you felt Sanemi’s thick length pulse against you, how something akin to a whimper fell from his lips when his gaze snapped down quickly just in time to watch the hem of your uniform skirt slip further, enough for him to see the way your bodies seemed to just…fit.

Then his eyes were back on your face, your lips, now parted as harsh breaths escaped you. Your eyes, wide and wanting, peered up at him from beneath your lashes and Sanemi remembers this being the very moment he stopped denying what he had always known. You are breathtakingly beautiful. He also recalls this being the moment he knew he was done for.

So when your hands found themselves placed against his not yet scarred chest, balling the sweaty fabric of his shirt in your fists…when he leaned closer and curiously rolled his hips against your clothed core and heard you let out the most captivating sound he'd ever heard, a sound he's been obsessed with since he's heard it…when he pressed his lips lightly to yours and you whispered into his mouth “I've never done this before”.

Yeah, Sanemi knew then that he was fucked.

And though that night was not the night you'd given your virginity to Sanemi - that would happen years later - it was the night Sanemi tasted you for the first time. And he devoured you time and time again like a man starved. He would have you any way and any time that he could, if you allowed him.

That was only the beginning.

Not much has changed in the years that you have been keeping up this arrangement with Sanemi. It's the only thing that you both keep coming back to, the only thing that feels solid. Though you both know it's stupid to feel as if anything in this line of work is not at risk.

Every night that you lie awake, together or not, is a reminder. Every semi-annual meeting with the Hashira, mentally taking a headcount of everyone is a reminder. Every Hashira meeting without Rengoku, without Tengen is a reminder.

Death is always standing just outside your door.

You can't afford to delude yourselves into thinking you can freely love and care for each other. Not until this thousand year war is over. Not until you are free to roam beneath the stars together without the scent of blood, the cries of pain and loss tainting the night.

So, as you and Sanemi slip into the gates of the Ubuyashiki Mansion, your fingers brush together just briefly - a silent display of those words you dare not mutter aloud. You make your way to your respective places amongst the strongest of the Demon Slayer corps; you, next to Tomioka and Sanemi beside the Serpent Hashira. And while you quietly mingle with those around you before the Master appears, you miss the hushed conversation further down the line.

“You reek of her,” Obanai remarks. Resting around his shoulders, his snake whips his tongue out at Sanemi in almost an agreement.

“Shut up.”

“You're more tense than normal. Did you finally confess? Did she reject your advances?”

“I said shut up,” Sanemi growls. The chatter of everyone is already grinding on his nerves and your voice is not helping. He wants to look at you. See what - or who - has you giggling and speaking so sweetly that it's making him sick. It shouldn't matter. You can talk to whoever you want.

‘Except Tomioka,’ Sanemi thinks. But it's only because he's so clearly in love with you! He can't understand how you don't see it.

“Looks like Tomioka is making his move,” Obanai notes quietly, like he read Sanemi’s mind.

Sanemi can hear the teasing tone in his voice. The asshole is really getting a kick out of this. Even still, it's enough to have Sanemi’s gaze snapping over to you just in time to see Tomioka and you smiling sweetly at each other, nodding and whispering amongst yourselves.

It shouldn't make Sanemi as upset as it does, just seeing you enjoy yourself with him, seeing him enjoy himself with you. Your smiles, your laughs, your kindness. It should only be for Sanemi. But you're a kind person…too kind. So kind you'd allow a monster like himself to fall in love with you.

Tomioka is much kinder, more understanding, better for you than Sanemi could ever be.

And so, seeing you and him bond…Well, it fills Sanemi with a rage so hot he finds himself standing, eyes locked on the back of your head. You must feel it, his gaze beating down on you like rays of heat from the sun itself, because you fall silent and your head snaps around. Your eyes find Sanemi's immediately, gaze wide and questioning.

Tomioka looks confused as well. ‘Good,’ Sanemi thinks. He can't wait to see the look on the Water Hashira's face when Sanemi does what he's been wanting to, but admittedly too scared to do for so long – claim you as his in front of everyone.

He lets the fumes of his anger fuel him, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. And then he's opening his mouth to speak, tongue on the roof of his mouth as all other chatter dies and the eyes of the other Hashira land on him.

“I lo-”

“The Master has arrived!” Twin voices call in unison.

And it's like muscle memory for every single Hashira, falling in line on one knee with their heads bowed as the Master approaches. His arrival extinguishes the fire that burned hazardously within Sanemi just seconds before, soothes the scorching left behind. His head is clear now, the reminder of why you both choose to keep your meetings between just you two evident.

You have a job to do. Defeating this evil comes before all things, even you. Though with the way Sanemi almost blew the lid off of your secret, he's not sure how much longer can go on without openly being with you.

But it sparks something within him - a new fire. One that burns solely for one purpose.

To defeat Kibutsuji Muzan…so that he can finally, and fully have you.

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 24 days

Text

The Benefits

18+, Minors, ageless, and blank blogs DNI. Best friends with benefits smut written with AFAB reader in mind. ~2.9k words

Being best friends with Jason Todd has its privileges. He'll pick up whatever you're running out of in the fridge on his way back from patrol. He'll let you borrow his jacket when it gets cold. He'll scare off anyone who even looks at you funny without saying a word, and half the time, you don't even realize he's doing it until the moment passes.

Jason Todd is safe to you, a solid, unyielding presence in your life that you wouldn't trade for the world. That's why the last two weeks have been the most confusing, head-spinning, thrilling days of your life.

It all started around midnight, Thursday night. Jason was on patrol, and you had an itch. It was only natural, human even, for you to reach for the toy tucked away in your drawer.

It's practiced, the way you push your sleep shorts and underwear to your ankles. It's experienced, the way you guide the toy to your clit and cycle through the vibrations till you find the perfect one.

You pull your shirt up, bite the hem and muffle your moans. It's so good, so delicious and satisfying when your clit starts to throb that you don't hear the window open, don't even register the sound of boots hitting the floor.

You do hear the breathless, almost non-existent, "Fuck," that leaves Red Hoods mouth.

You gasp, dropping the toy in a panic. You're mortified, heat spreading across your face as you scramble to cover yourself and turn off the vibrations at the same time, "Jason," You squeak out, eyes darting frantically from him to the sheets.

He doesn't move for a moment, and all you can think about as you pull the blankets up to your chest, is how you're going to be able to look him in the eye again.

He steps towards you, and you shrink back a little, unable to read the expression on his face through the mask.

"Do you want me to help," he asks, voice even and calm through the modulator like he didn't just climb through your window while you were about to come.

"I– what," You stutter out, fingers curling into the blanket. That's not the reaction you were expecting at all.

He tugs off his mask and your breath hitches at how wide his pupils are blown, "You can say no. We can pretend this never happened. Or, you can say yes and I'll take care of you."

"But wouldn't this ruin–" You start, clutching the comforter to your chest.

"It won't. We wouldn't let that happen, right?" He soothes, and any inhibitions you're having are quickly fading as he moves closer to the edge of your bed.

You nod a little, and he grins at you. It almost looks out of place when he's dressed head to toe in armor, but it's so undeniably him, "So, you'll let me help you?"

"Yes," You breathe out, eyes locked on his. You don't think you could deny him right now, not when the thought of doing anything like this with him has you rubbing your thighs together. Not when it's his eyes you think of as you draw circles between your thighs.

"Gonna need you to drop the blanket then, doll," he drawls, and you hesitantly do.

Nothing could have prepared you for how fast he moves when you finally do. His hands are grabbing at your thighs in an instant, dragging you to the edge of the bed as he drops to his knees.

He barely lets you get settled in the new position before he's licking at the inside of your thighs, nipping and biting and sucking at the skin.

It's lewd, the feeling of his gloves drawing your thighs over his shoulders. It's dirty, the way he doesn't hesitate to tighten his grip on your legs to hold your thighs apart. It pulls a whimper from your throat before you can choke it down.

Jason laughs fondly at your whine and embarrassed appearance, the sound reverberating across your skin, "You're okay, sweetheart. I got you."

His mouth finally makes its way to your core and his tongue dips out to press against your folds, spreading you open and gathering your wetness onto his tongue.

You groan out his name, fingers curling into his hair, half an attempt to pull his head back, and half to encourage him to keep going.

Tugging his hair only entices him to nudge your clit with his nose. His eyes flutter closed at the taste of you, and he starts to lap at your cunt with more enthusiasm. “So sweet,” He murmurs under his breath, a sound barely heard over your own flustered whines.

You gasp when his tongue starts to prod at your entrance, slowly delving into you, the motion slick and easy with you dripping down his chin. His eyes close at the sensation, moaning into you as if devouring you is his favorite thing in the world.

It's earth shattering, mind blowing and completely unfair at how quickly he's turned you into a mess. You can't even form a full thought, completely focused on the pleasure building in your gut. It's overwhelming, and it makes you instinctively try to press your thighs together.

Jason just lets out a satisfied groan when your legs squeeze around his head. He presses his hands more firmly into your thighs to keep them open as he licks a broad stripe to your core.

He gives another groan against you, as his tongue slips back inside you to get another taste, drinking you down greedily like you’re his own personal dessert.

It makes you choke out his name in desperate sobs, squirming against the sheets as he flicks his tongue.

Jason doesn’t slow down as you chant his name, more interested in finding out which way he swirls his tongue will get your voice to pitch again. His tongue slips out of your core to drag through your folds, gathering up your fluids before he pushes it back into you again. The motion is wet and loud and he only pulls back so he can admire the blissed out look on your face.

You can only imagine you're a mess, but that hardly matters when he's a mess, too. Drool and slick dripping down his chin, hair sticking in every direction as he pants.

You think you should say something, but then he winks and suddenly shoves his face into your core, licking a long stripe against you.

The sound he makes is almost a moan, like he’s never tasted anything better in his entire life. He doubles his efforts, his tongue licking and his lips sucking your clit, desperate to feel you unravel just from the things he’s doing to you.

He purrs against you, when you cry out his name and he sucks hard, wanting you to come undone against his mouth and tongue.

You want to warn him, really, you try to tug his hair and stutter out that he's making you feel so good and you're going to cum. His thumb rubs back and forth over your thigh and for some reason, that soft movement is what sends you spiraling over the edge.

You soak his face, scream his name for everyone to hear, and arch back against the sheets.

He groans against you, the sound muffled as you suddenly fall apart against him. His tongue keeps moving, almost desperately, trying to get every drop of you that he can.

He only pulls back a few moments later, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. His eyes are blown as he looks up at you from where he’s still kneeled at the edge of your bed. His hair is mussed from how you’d been gripping it, but he doesn’t seem bothered as his eyes rake over your face, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he sees how dazed you are.

He stays on his knees for a few more moments, breathing heavy, before suddenly pushing himself up. He's watching you intently, looking absolutely proud to see your hazy eyes and parted lips.

He tugs off his gloves, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground before cupping your face, "Good?"

You laugh a little. Good? Good doesn't even cover it. You push up to your elbows, "I– yeah. That was good."

"Wanna join me in the shower," he asks gently, eyes trailing over your face as he traces jaw, "Get cleaned up?"

He doesn't need to ask you twice. You absolutely do.

Two weeks pass, and the lines set between you blur more and more. Being best friends with Jason Todd starts to come with benefits, something you never even dreamed would happen.

His hand slips below your shirt in public, caressing your hips while you wait in line at your favorite shop. Movie nights lead to making out on the couch. Cooking dinner gets sidetracked when Jason comes up behind you, nipping at the skin where your shoulder meets your neck.

It's intoxicating, and any feelings you were stuffing down for him before are front and center every time he tilts your head up so he can kiss you deeper. You do your best to grapple with the growing feeling of love attraction towards your best friend. It's just a perk. It's not more than that.

That idea comes tumbling to a halt when Duke Thomas plops down next to you on Jason's couch. He's stopped by to collect some evidence for whatever case that he and Jason are working together, and he catches you completely off guard when he starts to talk, "Congrats, by the way."

You tilt your head at him, confusion clear in your voice, "Congrats? For what?"

He has enough awareness to look sheepish, "For getting with Jason. The, uh, dating part, I mean. I know you guys are keeping it between the two of you for now, but it wasn't hard to pick up."

"What," You deadpan. You and Jason. Dating? That is news to you, and more than likely, a misunderstanding.

Duke grins at you, "It's kinda hard to keep secrets in a family of detectives. And he's been happier, you know?"

You did know that. He's been smiling more, excitable, almost bouncy, and he's been holding your hand a lot more. Wait. Do you have a boyfriend?

Duke takes your silence as permission to keep going, "I don't think anyone else picked up on it yet, though."

"Did he say something about us," You prompt carefully, and you hope you do a good job of keeping your voice steady.

Duke doesn't get to answer, when Jason walks back into the room with a case file. You don't manage to ask Duke again before he leaves, and you're left wondering if there's more happening between you and Jason then you realized.

You know you should ask, that it should be easy to ask. But it's not easy, and a week later, you're trying to figure out if you need to buy a one month anniversary gift.

Ever since Duke's visit, you've been reading into everything Jason does, trying to pick apart any sign and every action. He still calls you 'doll', that's normal.

But, he kisses you randomly, even if you're not hooking up, like he's doing it just to kiss you. That's not really normal. But it could be. Maybe. You're not exactly sure how a normal friends with benefits situation works.

Jason's your best friend, and you love adore need care for him more than anyone. He's also supposed to be arriving any second now, and you still haven't managed to figure anything out. Yeah, maybe you picked up a nicer bottle of wine than normal, and yeah, maybe you're not against the idea of dating him.

But the fear that it's just a misunderstanding weighs heavy. You're debating if flipping a coin is too tacky, when you hear Jason's key in the lock.

He's already grinning at you as he opens your door, "Hey," he murmurs, crossing the apartment to get to you.

You barely get to respond before his hands are on your ass, lifting you up to spin you around before placing you back down gently and ducking his head to kiss you, "I missed you."

"I– me too, missed you too," you mumble out as Jason dips down to kiss you again. Before he could pull you back into his arms, you squirm out of his grip, "Do you wanna pour the wine?"

He groans, grumpy at the loss of you in his arms, "Yeah, yeah." He shuffles towards the fridge, and shoots you a look like he's already missing the sensation of you in his arms.

You think you look calm as you grab the glasses from the cabinet. Your head only spins a little when, as Jason pours the wine into the glasses, he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

You follow him quietly to the couch, taking a long sip of your wine as you work up the courage to talk. 'Are we dating' sounds stupid. 'Are we celebrating our one month' sounds presumptuous.

Jason flops down against the couch, setting his glass down before and pulling you with him. It's familiar now, how easily he maneuvers you to straddle his lap. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, "You look nice."

"I haven't done anything different," You protest, setting your own glass down as he starts to trace patterns along your sides.

He hums thoughtfully, and presses another kiss to your jaw, "You always look nice."

You make a face at him, doubtful. But still nice of him to say. You set your hands on his shoulders as he guides you to sit in his lap. He's always been touchy, that's normal. But this, the kisses and the grabbing and the sex, still feels new.

"You're insatiable," You say instead and he nips hard enough at your throat to make you squeak.

Jason's hand slips down your back to slide under the waistband of your shorts. He leans back a little to see you clearly, "Insatiable? Probably. But all it takes is a few strokes of my finger and you're already needy. Do you have any idea how cute you look when your breath catches like that? When all you can do is whimper and grind into my hand?"

You nearly choke over his words, warmth spreading across your body, "Jason!"

He grins slyly at you, kneading the bare flesh of your backside, "What's the matter? Can't handle a little teasing from your boyfriend?"

Honestly, you should have been prepared for it. But you blank in the moment, "My boyfriend?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, hands going still against your skin, "Yes? Would you rather call me something else?"

You force a laugh, it only makes him look concerned. Okay. Abort. You have a boyfriend, and you've dug yourself a hole by not knowing about it. What's the best way to fix this? A distraction.

"Oh, no," You answer quickly, tangling your fingers into the hair at his nape, "I don't mind boyfriend."

He doesn't look like he believes you at all. He starts to talk, and you take the chance to kiss him, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and sucking, something that always makes him shiver.

It works for about a minute before he's pulling away, studying you intently, "You didn't think we were together."

You wince, it's unfair how nothing gets past him, "Well, no. Yes. I wasn't sure."

He frowns, "You weren't sure if we were dating after I ate you out on your bed, then did it two more times in the shower?"

You suck in a breath, and the memories that flash in your mind make you feel hot. The way he knelt on the tiles under the spray of water, how he pulled your thigh over his shoulder, how even as you struggled to stay upright, his steady hands never let you fall even after he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you.

"I thought it was just a benefits kind of thing," You admit quietly, looking anywhere but his face.

He murmurs your name, uses his forefinger and his thumb to guide you to look at him, "I don't want anything halfway with you."

Your gaze flicks to him shyly, and he only wraps an arm around your waist to keep you pressed against him, like he's afraid you'll try to pull away. "Is that okay," he asks, searching your face for answers, "that I want more from you than hookups? Then being friends?"

"That's– yeah. Of course, that's okay. I want that with you," You answer quickly. The last thing you want is for him to misunderstand, to think you don't want that with him.

You're not expecting the relief that floods his face, the way his entire body seems to melt against you. He tucks his head into your shoulder, muffling his voice "Okay, good. That's good."

You press your face to his hair, savoring the moment, savoring your boyfriend and all that he makes you feel, "Jason?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, not moving from his spot against your skin.

"Do you wanna makeout?"

He laughs into your throat, lips brushing over your skin, "Yeah, doll, I wanna makeout."

#18+ mdni #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #smut

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