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angelguk · 3 years

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dedicated to the lovely @himboksj happy (very late almost criminally late) bday present! so whew... there’s a lot happening in this one! return of jock!jk and his wonderful girl oc now featuring!!: squirting, creampie, oral (fem receiving), mild choking, biting, boobs in face!!, anime tiddy mentions, praise kink galore, multiple orgasms, the use of a vibrator, jaykay is sick actually, over-stimulation, mild spit kink, dommish!jk, (redacted) pet name, mentions (and watching) of porn, everybody is in love and horny, crying cause the dick too good, fingering but not really. 5k of words that should have never left my brain. listen to continuum & nothing without you by tanerelle (kindly check masterlist for the pretty boy drabble mini masterlist if you want to read the rest of this au!)

Jeongguk didn’t mean to go snooping through your things. It was 100% accidental. He just remembered that you kept some athletic tape in your drawers because Jeongguk usually needed to wrap his knee or ankle after practice and you ensured that he always had some near (in case he came crashing at yours instead of going back to his dorm after Coach brutalised him during drills). And, anyway, you were at a point in your relationship where Jeongguk didn’t necessarily feel the need to outright ask you if he could poke around your drawers. Of course, he respected your space, but it’s not like he wasn’t nosy when you were best friends. You were in the shower too, he didn’t want to bang on the door and ask where you kept the tape.

Imagine his surprise when he reached the final drawer in your dresser, idly rummaging around for the blue athletic tape he knows is buried somewhere, and his fingers latch around a silky cloth instead. He knew what it was immediately, the shape a dead give-away. A discreet bullet vibrator, stuffed under your unnecessarily large collection of fluffy winter socks. Perhaps he stopped breathing, the twitch in his loose workout shorts undeniable. He’s not surprised that you own one and yet, his brain can’t fathom you using it. Even now, Jeongguk’s still growing used to seeing you come undone around his length, the feeling of your walls tight on his cock as your mumble his name. It drives him mad. He’s seen you in every kind of state; sobbing hysterically, laughing until tears slip from your pretty eyes, stumbling drunk in the streets, eyebrows furrowed with anger at him, that soft tiny grin you grant him on good days, the pout your lips settle into when you don’t get your way. He never fathomed he’d ever see you in that way, skin flushed with heat, eyes cloudy with ecstasy, your heat pressed against his own. He finds new ways to fall in love with you every day but it reaches new heights when he’s deep inside of you. Maybe he’s mildly obsessed with seeing you unravel, but that’s a secret he keeps to himself.

He does take a peek at your toy though, a soft velvet-like purple vibrator. It’s cute actually, something you would definitely purchase. But then the sound of water hitting the shower tiles slows down and Jeongguk swiftly tucks the toy back into your drawers.

“Oh?” You say when you open the door to him standing stiff in your room. The steam from the shower wraps around your figure in gentle wisps, sunlight filtering in from the window behind you, the image of an innocent angel appearing right before his eyes. “You’re here.”

“Practise ended early,” Jeongguk returns, his gaze trailing the droplets of water that slip down your skin. You smell good, just like that vanilla and peach shower gel that you dearly love. And the towel hiding your body is loose. It’s not his fault that he’s hard in his pants. When he moves to hug you, your face contorts, a downward tug at your lips that Jeongguk longs to change with a kiss.

“I’m wet,” you whine, brushing past him. “Go shower, you always stink after practise.”

He huffs, strong arms catching your fleeing figure and quickly wrapping you into his chest. “No. Don’t want to. I missed you and you can’t even hug me? You’re so mean to me.”

“Guk-” Jeongguk cuts that complaint with his face in your neck, lips colouring your skin rouge with a kiss that intends to leave a mark. “You can’t,” you mumble, but your fingers settle on the nape of his neck, tangling in the growing strands of his hair. “I have to get to work soon.”

“It won’t take long,” Jeongguk returns, feathering kisses across your skin as he nudges you to the bed. “I promise. Let me do this, I’ve missed you, bunny.”

Your towel is discarded somewhere in the amble to your sheets, your thighs wrapped around Jeongguk’s face a second later. He watches your body carefully, teasing your clit with purpose before he allows himself to slip his tongue deep. He notes the twitches in your thighs, the way your buck your hips against his face. He ignores his desire, for the time being, nose buried at the apex of your cunt, tongue covered in your slick, his lips latched on your clit. You like it fast, purposeful sharp flicks that make you squirm until Jeongguk has to pin your hips down, the lave on your heat brutal. His brain can’t help but wonder how you’d behave with your toy grazing your clit and his cock burrowed deep. You’re so sensitive, response to even the softest kiss he lays on your cunt. Would you be wetter than this? You’re already dripping down his face, his mouth glistening with your desire. But he wants to see if you can do more than this, squirm more than this, make a bigger mess than this. The thought surfaces as he feels your body lock, the tension in your limbs drawn high as your hands reach for his. You cum on his face with your fingers intertwined, his name falling from your lips as the afternoon sunlight hits your skin. It’s then and there that Jeongguk decides, with his mouth wet from your release, he’s going to see you squirt one day. For him and him alone.

He waits for the moment to naturally strike, silently scheming wicked thoughts every time you crawl into his sheets. It happens one evening, an empty bottle of wine at the foot of your bed and hentai porn playing brazenly on his laptop screen. Somewhere between downing the bottle and cuddling in his sheets Jeongguk had mentioned an uncanny resemblance between your gigantic chest and the anime boobies he’d grown fond of since his introduction to hentai. You’d immediately dismissed him, whacking him hard on the head and then Jeongguk had to prove it to you, opening his favourite website and pulling up a video that had your jaw-dropping.

“Your boobs do that, you know,” he says. Which grants him a sharp kick to the shin.

“Jeongguk, what is wrong with you?” He can tell you’re not annoyed, but there’s a lilt in your voice that makes him pause, doe eyes flicking to your face. You may be kicking him under the blankets but your eyes are stuck to the video, a distance glaze colouring your gaze. He can tell by the way your thighs draw together that you’re not as averse to this as you pretend to be.

“Turn it off,” you mumble.

“Why? I can tell that you like it.”

“Jeon, I’m not joking.” There’s a glare paired with that sentence, but he reads right through it.

“Fine,” Jeongguk offers, fingers already typing what’s been on his mind since the day he discovered your vibrator.

“What are you—oh.”

There’s a quiet lull. He clicks on a video that’s more familiar to him than he’ll ever willingly admit out loud. It starts the way Jeongguk prefers it to, with a man on his knees, his head buried between the thighs of a girl.

“What are you doing, Guk?” A warning. A question. Jeongguk is not sure what you mean by that and he’s too hesitant to take a look at your face to decipher the tone in your voice just yet. He takes the jump instead, hoping you don’t mind the fantasies of his mind.

“Have you ever squirted?” Somewhere between the exchange of words in Jeongguk's room, the man on his laptop screen slipped two fingers into the girl. It doesn’t help that your boobs are falling right out of your loose camisole, resting right on his bare arm.

“Jeongguk,” you return. “Answer my question.”

“Answer mine first,” he looks at you then, trying hard to read your eyes. There’s no heat in your face, just an innocence that colours your features. Wide eyes, your legs draw together, a hard swallow that he sees in the low lights that illuminate the room.

“No,” you say, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “So why are you showing me squirting porn?”

It’s then that Jeongguk realises he wants to ruin you. As horribly cliché as it sounds, he longs for that. And the urge for it doubles when your gaze falters, flicking quickly for the screen before drifting back to his. The couple is still fucking on his screen, hard quick loud thrusts that travel to the pit in his stomach fast. He’s hard in his briefs, a painful throb ebbing through his length when your hand drops to his chest.

“Guk?”

He shuts the laptop, the moans cut off, a heated silence taking its place. The bed feels too big when he gets up, ignoring the confused look you give him.

The vibrator is exactly where he left it, oddly comforting because it means you don’t use it. You have him after all. But he needs the toy for tonight.

“What? Guk? What’s go—when did you find that?” You’re embarrassed, he knows it from the way you squirm under the blanket. He glances down at it, finger pressing the switch that turns it on. A quick run through shows ten decent vibrators at different levels, it’s rather intense even in his hands, the low buzz that it emits filling the room forbidding before he shuts it off.

“A couple of weeks ago,” he says. You groan, your head dropping into your hands.

“Put it away, Guk! And don’t go through my stuff ever again.”

“Why? I think it’s cute.”

“Cu—what is the point of this, Jeongguk? I don’t get what you’re trying to do?” And there you go, staring at him with those wide ingenuous eyes. So trusting, so clueless. He draws closer then, considers taking his underwear off so you can see just what you do to him. But when your gaze drops he halts. It’s not about him tonight. It’s about you.

The bed dips under the weight of his as he says it, the toy still in his hands. “I want to see if you can squirt.” He sees the way your back stiffens, the raise in your brow.

“I’ve never done that,” you splutter, falling back as Jeongguk crawls over you.

“I know. But you can.”

“I can’t, Guk. I don’t think I can.” Your pretty lips are drawn into a reluctant pout, but there’s a bright curiosity sparking through your gaze that Jeongguk knows all too well.

“See, you don’t think you can. You said that before. And then I made you cum five times in a row.”

“No that was different—”

“We’re just seeing if you can. We don’t have to if you don’t want to but I think it’d be fun to try.”

You pause, trying to ignore the heat blooming between your legs as you weigh the decision before you. There were times when you thought you were about to, an edge in your orgasms that felt dangerous. But your body never let you go there fully, drawing back from your slipped from heights you couldn’t handle. You can tell Jeongguk won’t grant you the same precautions. His eyes a dark, toeing a line that feels forbidding. The covers are gently pulled from you, Jeongguk staying silent as you ponder. But the moment the cool night air hits your skin you know what he’s asking for. It’s a strange level of vulnerability, a bareness that makes your skin prickle. He wants something that you’ve never given anyway else — not even yourself. It’s a lot to ask for and his directness makes you pause. The hesitation crumbles when his hand settles on your thigh, wide warm palm gently nudging your clasped legs apart.

“We really don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Jeongguk says, honey eyes locked on you. You know he’s being honest; he wouldn’t push it if you said no. And yet, something twists in your stomach. You want this. The realisation is sudden and you don’t know if it’s because of how perfect Jeongguk looks tonight. Chestnut curls a messy halo on his head and his shirt hanging loose from his broad shoulders. Or maybe it’s how he looks at you as if this is the only he’s ever really wanted in the world. As if you’re the only thing he’s ever really wanted.

“I want to—I mean I want to try.” You let yourself fall open then, something clicking as Jeongguk slots right against you perfectly, your sleeping shorts bunching up when his hips roll with intent. His lips land on your neck a moment later, a kiss so soft that you don’t feel it at first, lost in the way he hits your clit when he bucks into you. Jeongguk draws you back with a bite, one sharp enough to leave you gasping, your back arching from the sheets. He lets his hands slip under then, the vibrator momentarily forgotten as he maps your skin, lips feather-light once more, kisses gentle enough to leave you delirious.

“So good to me,” Jeongguk mumbles, eyes drifting to your lips. He draws close then, mouth fitting yours in a dreamlike perfectness. It’s flavoured with wine and want, a clear hunger in how he parts your lips. The hands that grip you are hard but his lips are gentle, savouring the taste of you against his mouth as if he wants to commit it to memory. The softness of the act has your skin tingling, bright and wild yet slow like the turning of the Sun. When you part, the air is different — charged, the current that swims through the atmosphere finding a home in your body as it settles in the depth of your gut. Jeongguk doesn’t give you time to ponder, mouth trailing from the corner of your lips to the hollow of your neck where he bites. It hurts enough to shock your senses, sweeping you back from the heavenly haze to the alarming reality of what he’s about to do to you. Your whimper hits the air as his tongue presses into the mark, painting your skin dark. A pointed reminder. You’d thought Jeongguk would be possessive, but sometimes he surprises you with it. The purposeful touches, the harsh bruises he likes to leave high on your neck. Or anywhere on your body, really. There are times he’d press his fingertips into them when you’re willing enough to let him choke you, the flash in your eyes spurring his hips forward.

For now, he busies himself with breathing a new one to life, one you know he’ll play with tomorrow — or later tonight if you give him the chance. Your brain can’t think that fair, zoning out as his mouth works a claim on your skin. Eager fingertips are drifting down your thighs, brushing past the band of your sleeping shorts. It’s expected that you’re already wet, but Jeongguk delights in his find with a muted moan in your neck. His fingers don’t go further though, grazing light against the damp fabric of your underwear. The swivel of your hips is automatic but Jeongguk quickly stills it with a hard press of his palm into your skin. You’re forced into the mattress, freezing when he finally wanders from your neck to your chest. So slow, wet lips idly trailing until his face lands between your chest.

“Gukkie,” you hadn’t realised how gone you already sounded until you spoke, voice wavering. He hums in response, non-committal, his hands shifting from your hips as he focuses on freeing you from your top so he can get your boobs in his mouth.

“Don’t tease me today.” You’re trying to sound firm, pliantly raising your arms so he can get you bare. But that firmness shrinks when your eyes land on his. So dark in the dwindling moonlight bleeding through your half-open blinds.

“Why?” There’s that smile of his, one corner hung higher than the either. You’ve sunk yourself in a sea brimming with sharks. “You sound cute when you whine, bunny.”

“Jeong — fuck.” There’s no point in protesting when he’s buried himself between your chest, tongue already toying with your nipple. Too many guys before him had misunderstood how to touch you there, but Jeongguk knew — he had learned. Studied your body so that he knows when to nip or kiss, shifting from pain to pleasure until the line blurred and so did your vision, until the only sound filling the room are harsh breaths and the quiet murmur of his name. Your hands eventually stray to his head, the heat in your core demanding attention as you guide him down. Jeongguk complies, not because he doesn’t want to tease you any further, but because he loves tasting you too much to ever say no.

The sight he finds sends an ache down his length, already hard but now leaking into the fabric of his grey sweats. You spread yourself so easily for him, light pink panties coloured dark with your wetness.

“Cute,” Jeongguk whispers, falling naturally into his place between your legs. It wasn’t meant to grace the air, but he’s glad it did when he notes the bashful smile tugging at your lips and how you twist to shift your head into the pillows the closer he gets. Which, honestly, makes him pause. He wants you to watch, needs you to. Something in the base of his brain needing constant affirmation that he’s making you feel good driving his next set of movements.

The hand on your chin is unexpected and adamant. You can’t help but give in, wide-eyed when Jeongguk forces your gaze onto him. “Need you to look bunny, can you do that for me?” The nod you give him is instinctual, heat blossoming in your bones when Jeongguk smiles, satiated and proud. Perhaps you should have put up more of a fight, but how could have known what he would do with only the tender touches he’d lift as your guide. Even the quick kiss he plants on your clothed cunt revealed nothing of what’s to come. So gentle as he pulls he fabric down your hips, discarding it somewhere in the sheets, his eyes never leaving the wetness on your lips.

“My pretty girl,” he says, nipping the inside of your thigh. You squirm at that, futile because Jeongguk just held you closer. “All mine, right bunny?”

“All yours,” you return, voice far and your mind slipping from your hands. Jeongguk apparently takes that to heart because he devours you, nose burrowed in the apex of your cunt, breathing you in as his tongue mapped the velvet of your walls. It doesn’t take long for your legs to wrap around his head, back raising from the bed and the drip of your slick coating your inner thighs. Yet, Jeongguk relishes it, forgoing breathing as he eats you open, toying with your clit as if that was his sole life purpose. You forget the world with a speed that should concern you, thighs trembling with each determined swirl of his tongue over that bud. Again and again, until you spill into his mouth, wet and creamy, creating a mark of your own on his lips. He keeps you there, unrelenting even when your whines hit high and your chest heaves. There’s a ringing in your ears as the high wanes away, which is swiftly placed by a quiet mumbling that sinks into your skin.

“Tastes so good,” Jeongguk murmurs, licking between your folds. “So fucking good.”

“Jeon,” Something twists in your gut when he drops a final kiss onto you as if he was thanking you for letting him do that when you should be the one on your knees thanking him. When he softly drops your leg to the soiled sheets you decide it quickly, already shifting onto your elbows.

“Yes?” Such innocent eyes staring back at you like he didn’t just fuck you open with his tongue.

“I want you too,” you’re already shifting but Jeongguk is quick, fingertips hard on your jaw when he halts you. He knows what that means, reads it in how your gaze drops to the crotch of his pants, wet just like you were. But that’s not what he wants, besides, he’d rather save that for other places.

“No.” When he says that you almost deflate, but then Jeongguk drops his hand from your jaw, swiftly dragging his shirt over his back and off his body. There’s nothing that can suffocate the desire that blooms in your chest. He’s so beautiful, hard lines and warm skin, kissed by the Sun herself. There’s an itch in your palm instantly, and you hastily register that if you don’t touch him you might die. Yet, your eager hands are pinned over your head, wrists wrapped tightly in the grip of one of his wide calloused palms. There’s a brief moment where his attention is caught by the bounce of your chest before you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that you’ve never asked Jeongguk to fuck your tits before. But as you stow that away for later concern, Jeongguk’s other hand drifts to the discarded vibrator, sinister now in his command.

“Don’t want to fuck your mouth, bunny. It’s not about me tonight, it’s about you.”

“But—” Jeongguk swallows that protest with a quick kiss, the taste of you on his tongue igniting a fire that crackles and consumes until you feel nothing but heat and want, all fuelled by your erratic lovesick heart. You kiss until the only thing filling your lungs is him, like a heavy smoke that envelopes you, travelling through your body until you pull away, warm chest flushed against his. There’s a stupid twinkle in his eyes and it makes you feel sick, swaying dangerously when he shifts away. You don’t want him to go, but you don’t move when he gives you that look. The devastating ache dissipates when his pants drop from his hips, hard cock meeting the cool air. The twitch that travels down his length echoes between your walls, eagerly clenching around nothing. Jeongguk just smiles, stripping bare leaving himself vulnerable to your eager eyes. You wait, behaving good because you want to for him and Jeongguk notes this, delivering a pleased slap to your cunt when he pulls you close, one hard enough to jolt through your spine when his palm hits your clit.

“I’m kind of sensitive,” you whisper, shy again. Which is funny because weren’t you begging for his cock down your throat a second ago?

“I know,” Jeongguk returns, uncaring. The vibrator comes to life a moment later, buzzing low through the room. He knocks it up to the second-highest level.

“Jeongguk! Start low then work it up. I can’t take it like that directly, it'll chafe me.” Which is right, your clit is already feeling dry, slick staying solely between your walls. Jeongguk notes that, pausing before sinking two of his fingers deep. You squeak, hips lifting when they brush against that spot in your walls. He works you open deftly, pleased when you grind your hips into his hands, spurred on by the feeling of something finally inside of you. But it’s fleeting, Jeongguk dragging his fingers out and over your clit before raising his fingers to his lips and licking them clean.

“Now it won’t,” he states, and before you can open your mouth and deliver a retort the vibrator is pressing against that bundle of nerves, tremors echoing in your bones as your legs squeeze shut in an attempt to get away. Jeongguk pins them open, cock leaking against your thigh and he rolls the edge of the toy over your clit, before you jolt so hard the sheets shift and he knows exactly where to place it. He works it out of you, praise naturally falling from his petal lips when you give in, eyes shut tight and your heart stuck in your throat. The vibration feeds the heat in your gut, drawing it to the surface of your skin, sweat beading along your forehead and a dampness forming down your spine. It feels both quick and slow, coaxed out of you with steadfastness. Jeongguk’s gaze never strays from your pussy, locked there as he etches this moment into his memory. You look gorgeous, whining and twisting underneath him. He can tell that this is a lot for you, judging from how you bury your face away from him. He would have forced your eyes on him, if he wasn’t already so enthralled by how perfect you look like this, moans low colouring the air bright with their sound. His own want multiples when your body freezes, strung tight, the edge beckoning you over.

He pulls the vibrator off then, depriving you of your release because his brain demands that he feels this one around his length.

“Jeongguk!” You’re on your elbows, eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. “Why-w-why would you do that?” There’s a waver in your tone, a lilt so pretty he can’t help but smile.

“When you squirt you’re doing it on my cock.” He states it like it's final. And it is from how he draws you close, vibrator momentarily lost in the sheets, the head of his length brushing against your wetness.

But what catches your attention is when. A loaded promise. A determined one.

You spread your legs open, shifting until he slips past walls stretching to accommodate his welcoming presence. “Okay then, make me.” You say it with your gaze on his, watching as his eyes glaze over hips already bucking deeper, before your words register in his brain and Jeongguk’s gaze shifts into a dangerous glint.

He tugs you hard, pulling close enough so that he sinks in deep, cunt already moulding to the curves of his cock. “With pleasure.” Those words are warning, painted right into the heat of your skin as he sheathes himself inside of you. The groans in the air belong to both of you melting into one distinctive sound. It’s cut by the lewd squelch of your wetness coating his length, one that settles in Jeongguk’s gut, release already creeping into the corner of his vision. But he holds it back by knocking your legs further apart, mouth returning to the bruise he left earlier, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin. You arch into him, shifting as pain bleeds through your nerves. The motion allows the last inch of him to slip past your walls, spearing you open, before Jeongguk draws himself out and returns with a hard slow thrust. He fucks you deep, right into the bed, the frame creaking with each loud meeting between the two of you. You can’t do anything but cling onto him, eyes fluttering as his cock drives into you, determined with every piston of his hips to see you unravel. And you do, with a sickening quickness, already weak with the remembrance of your past edge. You feel soft underneath him, pressed against his skin like you hope you find a home for yourself there. And Jeongguk provides — lips mapping your skin gently and a pride in his tone that makes you want to do anything for him.

“That’s it, good girl.” You can’t say anything but his name, whining with every drag of his length along your walls. “So good to me,” he whispers, sweet, unlike his unforgiving hips. “Pretty girl and she’s all mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp, wanting this more than ever. “All yours—a-all—hnghhhh—y-yours! Jeongguk, please! P-please, please, please.”

He slows, smiling into your neck. “What bunny? What do you want?”

“Wanna cum, Jeongguk p-please let me cum.” When he moves away you feel your gut drop. The vibrator is flicked back one, humming dangerously. “Guk—” you start; he shushes you with a purposeful thrust.

“You said you wanted to cum. Remember what you promised me, bunny?” You nod, slow, nervous but your need overriding your fear. Jeongguk just smiles, shifts himself a little deeper, and then places the vibrator where you need it most. It’s not instant, but it’s quick and violent, travelling through your bones and Jeongguk rocks himself deep, curls damp on his forehead and his shoulders tense but his body still giving. You match his movements with your own, shuddering the closer you feel it creep, ripping itself right out of your limbs, drawn to the surface with no remorse, your eyes falling shut and hips seizing. The vibration paired with the feeling of Jeongguk fucking you full is intoxicating, and unlike you he doesn’t hesitate, playing with your clit unforgivingly.

You don’t even hear yourself, mouth agape and your back high from the sheets, all you know is heat, burning from the inside out. No air in your lungs as it spills from you, right onto his length, walls drawn tight. It hits his abdomen, leaving his muscles wet and glimmering as the moonlight greets his skin. Jeongguk shuts down, hips moving automatically, the vibrator thrown aside, still buzzing forlornly. He couldn’t give a damn about it, bending your legs back and fucking into you hard as you coat his cock in your wetness. If it was loud before, it’s obscene now. The nails in his back spur him further, a need he’s never felt before consuming him whole. It’s already there, the white of his desire clouding his vision, but his brain suddenly stills.

Jeongguk’s hand on your chin draws you back to Earth, mind nothing but mush as he continues to fuck you open. They’re erratic thrusts, and with them, you slowly release that your cheeks are wet. Jeongguk realises it the same time you do, thumb gingerly brushing the tears falling from your eyes away. There’s a strange new awareness buzzing through your body, like your bones feel new, limbs reformed. But nothing could prepare you for that thumb on your cheek travelling down, grazing your lips until they fall open. He slips it past, lets you flick your tongue against it, before demanding. “Open.”

And you do, because what wouldn’t you do for him.

“Can I?” He questions, and somehow you know what he is asking. Another claim. Something else you’ve given nobody but him.

“Yes.”

There’s a fall in his shoulders as if he was afraid you would deny him. But how could you ever? His thumb leaves your lips, hand drifting until it settles on your neck, pressing firmly but not tight. And then his own lips part, hips unwavering, for what he sends down your throat. You swallow, oddly thrilled by it while Jeongguk watches silently, almost in marvel. It does something to you, the way he stares, like he cannot believe you’re his. And you feel that sentiment in how he kisses you next, desperate, pleading, thankful. You return it, tongue soft against his as you feel his back draw taut, a low groan spilling down your throat when Jeongguk finally snaps, euphoria bleeding through his brain. You feel it hit your walls, warm and wet, painting you white, a strange satisfaction settling through your body.

When he eventually rolls over, quiet like he’s still recovering, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, an attempt to keep his love locked in. His hand cups your own, guiding you back into reality with a gentle squeeze.

The still buzzing vibrator is what you hear first, followed by the joint panting of your lungs. You move to grab it, hoping to hide the revelation in your eyes by glaring at him. Jeongguk is still too lost to care, face flushed a vibrant rouge.

“Turn this stupid thing off,” you mutter, legs still stuck, fused to the bed from the shock of your orgasm. Jeongguk snatches it up, waving it through the air as he turns it off, before giving it a fond kiss.

“Gross,” you comment, smacking his hard chest.

“No,” Jeongguk returns, dropping it. He plants a ginger kiss on your forehead. “I quite like it actually, we should order another one. Do you think they do vibrating panties?”

You hit him again, rolling over until your leg swings over his. He keeps looking at you like that, and it keeps clawing right through your heart. “You’re so sick and evil,” you say instead of the annoying comments that flutter in your delirious brain. You want to call him pretty, beautiful, perfect, maybe the best thing you’ve ever had. But you can’t let Jeongguk know he has all that power over you — not when already made you squirt and spat down your throat in one sitting. “Can you clean me up? I’m getting sticky.”

Jeongguk stills like he’s suddenly remembering what he just did, where he just came. And then you feel the rise of his chest, gaze flicking up to meet his. Bright and full of something akin to adoration, before he blinks it away.

“Give me a moment, I think I just saw God.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenario #au: jock!jaykay

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cursestothemoon · 4 years

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Parents, Presents, and Girlfriends

Requested: yes

Hermione x fem! gryffindor! reader

Warnings: suggestive towards the end, also a steamy kiss towards the end, mentions of food

Summary: Hermione is nervous to meet her girlfriends parents and spend the Christmas holiday with them, but quickly she realizes how silly she was. That and her girlfriend was cross-eyed as a baby.

also i didn’t edit this due to pure laziness so i am sorry

Word Count: 2301

***

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, meeting your parents is one thing but spending the holiday with them? What if I make a terrible first impression, then they are stuck with me for two weeks? What then?”

The way Hermione paced as she rambled made you chuckle, her eyebrows shooting up and falling down every so often.

“I think you are overthinking it, Mione. They’ll love you.” Your tone was confident.

She gave you a look asking if you were sure and you giggled as you stood up. You made your way over to her, taking her hands and bringing them to your lips. Hermione seemed to relax, her shoulders slumping, as you ran her knuckles across your lips before gently placing a few kisses on them.

“Trains leaving soon, love, I think we should get ready to go.”

Hermione nodded going to grab her bags- they had been packed since last week- and you made your way to your things, shoving in a few last minute socks and knickers before zipping it up. You grabbed Hermione by the hand, and you two walked out of your shared dorm, chatting until arriving at the train.

The train ride was spent in a compartment with Ron and Harry, both going to the Burrow for Christmas, and a plethora of sweets.

“Sixth year, can you guys believe it?” Ron asked munching on a chocolate frog leg.

Harry swallowed Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean, the grimace he sported was a dead giveaway that it was not a prefered flavor, before answering, “Remember when we flew the car to school?”

Ron nodded with a fond smile but it was Hermione’s voice that came out, “That was the most idiotic thing you two have ever done.”

“Oh don’t act all high and mighty now, that was when you met Y/n.” Harry teased, nudging his head in your direction.

Hermione turned crimson as she bowed her head with a small smile. Your hand found hers on the seat and gave it a squeeze.

“Yeah, you two weren’t around to make me look bad.” Hermione said, remembering the first train ride with you and how quickly you two had become best friends.

It was true, you two quickly became friends during second year, yet neither of you were able to actually identify your feelings as romantic until fourth year. Both of you had gone to the Yule Ball with a date, Hermione with Viktor Krum and you with Dean Thomas. The Ball was fun, though the jealousy spewing in both your hearts put a bit of a damper on things, fortunately the night ended with you two snogging in your dorm before any of the other girls got back. Surely they put two and two together when they got back however, lipstick smudged, dresses just slightly askew, and hair frazzled.

After the infamous night, you two had started dating. Now you had convinced her to spend Christmas holiday with you and your family, wanting your parents to meet the girl you were certain you were going to marry. Hermione had no reason to be worried, unbeknownst to her, your parents already knew all about her- perhaps a bit too much- from the countless letters you’ve written them gushing about your girlfriend.

“What if they don’t like me? Or-or, oh I don’t know! Does my hair look alright?” Hermione fumbled, hands shooting up to comb down her already neat hair- she had done it during the train ride.

“Your hair looks good, and they will like you. Try mentioning S.P.E.W.” You winked, walking out of the compartment.

Hermoine rushed after you, “Don’t leave me! I’m nervous, take my hand.”

You shook your head with a giggle, offering your hand to her as you waited for her to catch up. She took it gratefully, walking in stride with you to the now open door of the train that led to the platform 9 ¾.

The platform was buzzing with families, all bundled up for winter, greeting their children. A rush of excitement filled your being as you looked for your parents, turning to catch a glimpse of Hermione whose eyes were wide and smile, nervous.

“Y/n! Hermione! Over here!” It was your mum’s voice.

“Merlin, she knows my name.” Hermione mumbled to herself.

You chuckled, pulling Hermione by the hand to where your mum was waving at you two from a little ways down the platform. Upon reaching your mother, Hermione was pulled into a hug leaving you to gasp in feigned offence.

“I am your daughter you know?”

“And I’m your mother. Now that we’ve got titles out of the way let me greet your girlfriend.” Your mom waved you off turning to look at Hermione.

Hermione smiled, a bit overwhelmed by the aggressive hug, “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. L/n. Merry Christmas.”

“Call me Y/m/n, and it’s even lovelier to meet you. Y/n doesn’t shut up about you in her letters, you’re featured in every single one.”

“Mum.” You groaned, cheeks starting to heat up.

Hermione laughed, the knots in her stomach finally starting to loosen. Your mum seemed to take to her quickly, leaving you to grab most of the luggage. Hermione tried to protest, offering to help but your mother initiated you had it taken care of and she wrapped an arm around your girlfriend's shoulders starting a conversation about school, you presume.

“Yeah, I’m fine, not to worry.” You grumble, finally getting the five bags you were left with off the floor and comfortable enough for you to walk with.

“Carry the bags, Y/n. Let me get to know your girlfriend, Y/n. You can handle it.” You mimicked as you three finally made it to the car, your father sitting at the wheel before catching sight of you three and jumping out.

“Girls! Sorry I wasn’t at the platform, your mum thought it best if we bombarded Hermione one parent at a time.” He smiled, grabbing the bags from your hands quickly.

He watched you drop them with a huff, “Why’d you carry ‘em all, Y/n?”

“Oh you know, just trying to impress Hermione.” You said sarcastically, making him laugh as he shoved the bags into the trunk of the vehicle.

Your dad was a muggle, as muggle as they come really. He had a modest childhood, only ever getting what he needed, wants and luxuries saved for the children who could afford them. Your mother was a pureblood witch, a Gryffindor at that, and had lived in the house just a town over from your father’s. They had been together since they were fifteen, married since they were nineteen.

The backseat of the car held you and Hermione, your mum in the passenger seat and your father driving back to the house. The radio emitted a low tune but other than that a comfortable silence filled the car. You reached your hand across the seat, grabbing Hermione’s and giving a gentle squeeze. She turned to you, a smile nearly splitting her face, and her eyes sparkling. Clearly she was having a good time, and maybe carrying the bags all that way was worth it.

The ride home was quick, the newly fallen snow nearly blinding on the dark, paved roads. Your home coming into view causes a bubble of giddiness to rise into your belly, mum always decorated for Christmas and you could tell she went all out this year. The pathway leading up to the house had six Christmas trees, three on each side and each one sparkling with twinkling white lights and a red bow on top. The house itself was a good size, wedding present from your mother’s side, and had the same white twinkling lights wrapping around it.

“Welcome home.” You teased, grinning at Hermione.

Christmas Eve had gone without a hitch, dinner went exceptionally well. It felt as though Hermione had been a part of the family for ages, her humour, wit, and intelligence melded very well with that of your family’s. It was evident Hermione realized she had been nervous for nothing, a smile had sat gracefully on her face all night and you couldn’t be happier.

After dinner you and Hermioen had broken away from your parents- still chattering in the kitchen- and made your way to the front steps with hot chocolate cradled in each of your hands. You took a sip from your cup, the whip cream finding a nice spot to rest just at the top of your upper lip making the witch next to you let out a laugh.

“Is there something on my face?” Your tone was painfully oblivious.

She laughed again, “Nope, not at all.”

“Good, now give me a kiss, babes.”

You pucker your lips with exaggeration, leaning toward her. She laughed harder trying to lean away from her girlfriend but realized it was a losing battle so she retaliated. Hermioen grabbed your face and pulled you closer to her, only to bring her tongue out and lick a broad stripe over your mouth, collecting the whipped cream.

The shock was evident on your face as you froze for a moment before grimacing theatrically.

“I can’t believe you just licked me.” You muttered, a hand coming up to wipe your mouth.

“You were asking for it.” Hermione shrugged.

You let out a sigh before looking at her, a feigned expression of thinking drawn on your face, “I think now I deserve a proper kiss for that. Only fair.”

Hermione pretended to think for a moment also before she nodded, “You’re right, I think you do.”

She leaned over, pulling your lips to hers in a heated kiss. Her hand went to your waist, pulling at the material of your pants to bring you closer, you let out a quiet whimper at this making her slide her right hand over your backside, groping at the clothed flesh. You deepened the kiss, bringing one hand up to hold her face, the other one resting comfortable around her neck.

Hermione pulled her lips from yours with a smacking sound making you let out a breathy laugh.

“Apology accepted.”

The comment made Hermione snort, a hand coming up to shove your shoulder gently. A few whipped cream mustaches and far more than a few kisses later, both you and Hermione decided to go inside to get warmed up.

Your mother running around with blankets, your father following with pillows- though he’d rather not run- made you raise your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Mum...what are you doing?”

“Getting Hermione’s room ready.”

“Hermione’s...room...ready?” You tried to understand, really you did.

The way you said the words made your dad snort, before going to drop the pillows off in the spare room.

You turned to your mom, “I thought Hermione would be sleeping in my room...you know… with me?”

“People who date can’t sleep in the same room, that was the rule for your brother, that’s the rule for you. No matter how sweet Hermione is, I know you might try some funny business.” She said, a finger pointing at you.

Hermione laughed, knowing just how true it was before assuring, “I’m alright with staying in the spare room it’s alright.”

You groaned and stammered, not unlike a child complaining, “But- but, Hermione and I share a dorm. And! And! Even if there was any funny business, which there won’t be, don't be weird Mum, but if there was it’s not like either of us would get pregnant.”

Your dad gave a loud snort as he watched your mum try to find something to say.

“Well…”

“I mean, she’s not wrong, Y/M/N.” Your dad added, winking at you.

Your mother thought for a moment before giving in, “Alright, I suppose you’re right. But if her snoring gets too loud Hermione, you are more than welcome to switch rooms.”

You scoffed in offence, holding your hand over your heart dramatically, “I do not snore.”

The silence was deafening, and you turned to Hermione, “Don’t feed into this!”

She brushed you off with a smile before turning to your parents, “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Your parents bid you two goodnight and made their way to their room, both Hermione and you walking in the direction of yours before your mum called out again.

“Remember, bright and early for presents in the morning! Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” You and Hermione said in sync before opening the door to your room.

You walked in, Hermione following, and turned just as you heard her close and lock the door.

“Should I be worried?” You joked.

Hermione shook her head with a smirk, “Hope they won’t mind if I have you one of your presents early…” She trailed off as she walked toward you slowly.

“And to think, they thought I would be the one to start the funny business. Unbelievable…”

BONUS:

You sat on the floor in between Hermione’s legs as she sat on the couch, thumbing through a photo album your mum had so graciously given her. Your father handed her a few loose photographs, those were the really embarrassing ones that he liked to keep close, that you really wished he would’ve kept to himself.

Hermione would laugh to herself every so often making you look up from the scarf you were knitting to try and see the picture that brought out that reaction. Unfortunately, your seat was not the most fitting for such so you couldn’t catch the picture. That is until Hermione spoke up.

“You were cross-eyed as a baby. Did you know?”

Suddenly you knew the exact picture she was looking at making you groan, dropping your forehead onto her knee in embarrassment.

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

#Hermione Granger #Hermione Granger imagine #hermione granger x fem!reader #hermione x reader #hermione granger headcanons #hermione granger x reader

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

Text

Speak Easy Part 5

Bakugo x Reader, Dabi x Reader

Words : 4804

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

*********************************************************************

It had been a few days since Bakugo had visited. Dabi was so torn between wanting to punish you for being a brat and praising you for finally walking. On one hand it was a law that you worked out every day. It was in writing and you had tried to tell him you weren’t going to do it.

Part of him knew he was only so worked up over it because it had happened in front of Bakugo. If it had happened any other day, he would have given you a quick spank and just thrown your ass in the pool anyways.

The look on your face had made it worth it though. To see that tenacious side of you, the one that looked like it was ready for a fight… Yeah, he could get used to seeing that look.

Then there was the aftercare of your little outburst. You had let him hold you all night. He didn’t know if that was intentional or if you had only reached for him in sleep out of instinct. He remembered how you had reached for Bakugo and it gave him a headache. For now, he chose to not make a big deal about it.

It had been a long day and you were ready to pass out. Dabi had taken the training wheels off and was starting to make you walk more and more on your own without his help. He was always quick to laugh when you fell on your ass with a taunt of, “You look like Shoto when he was a toddler. Don’t worry I didn’t help him either.” The only time he did help you, was to help you into the high barstool at the kitchen island. Making more jokes about you needing help getting into your highchair and asking if you needed him to feed you too.

You didn’t know if it was the fatigue or the teasing, but something had you in a foul mood. You flipped him off, ~I hate you~.

Dabi’s eyes softened in an almost annoyingly affectionate way, “No you don’t.” He handed you the bowl of ice cream you had begged for. “Good work today. I gave you an extra scoop.” He winked, took out his own spoon, and quickly stole a bite.

Your mouth hung open at his audacity. ~No! Wrong! Hate!~

He laughed loudly, “I said I gave you an extra scoop! You’re not gonna miss one bite!” He reached his spoon back out, “Just for that I’m gonna take another.”

You smacked his hand away and furrowed your eyebrows at him, ~Mine.~

He feigned shock, “I’m sorry… did you just… hit me?”

You stuck your tongue out at him and shoveled a huge bite of ice cream into your mouth. It was way too much and if you weren’t so intent on being a brat you would have laughed. Dabi however was in no laughing mood as he saw the melted ice cream dripping down your chin.

He reached out squished your cheeks together with one hand. He hovered over you, enjoying the height difference and absolutely losing it over the look of pure innocence in your eyes as the ice cream continued to slip past your lips. He leaned closer to you and whispered in a husky voice, “You’re making a mess… Now. Swallow.”

Your eyes connected with his and you obediently swallowed what was left of the ice cream. He swiped a thumb across your bottom lip to collect what was left before sucking into his mouth all the while keeping his eyes focused on yours.

You swear he was leaning in even closer when the loud clanging of your spoon hitting the table broke you apart.

He cleared his throat and pushed himself away from you. You had to focus really hard on not pouting. Why were you disappointed? Had you wanted him to kiss you? Or were you just horny again? This was a question you had been faced with a lot in your adult life, because as much as you hate to admit it… your quirk does make you a total horn dog. It’s been what? YEARS since you had good and proper sex.

You shuddered as you remembered back to the lab. You had sex there a few times… but… you couldn’t really say if it was any good on the account that you don’t remember most of it. What you did remember, you wish you didn’t. They hadn’t called it sex… they called it ‘research’, and boy where they a fan of their research.

Dabi lifted your chin to force you to look at him, “Hey where did you go just now?” He saw the tears pooling in your eyes and he felt a spike of panic at the thought the he was the cause of them. “Hey… hey I’m sorry. I take things too far sometimes.” He went to lower his hand but your gripped it and brought it back to your face. Needing his presence to anchor you to the present before you spiraled into memories of the past.

“Take a deep breath for me, okay. I need you to take a deep breath then I need you to hold it until I say so. Can you do that?” You hadn’t even realized your breathing had started to tighten until he said something. You nodded slowly as you tried to remember back to your hero training. You took a deep breath in through your nose. “Good girl. Now hold it and count to ten.” You did as he said before letting a shaky breath out of your mouth. “You’re doing great, just keep doing that. Is it okay if I pick you up?”

Your eyes widened. Did you want to be held? Or did you want to lock yourself in your room. You didn’t even know. You didn’t know what you wanted right now, what you needed. Would you find comfort in his embrace, or would you feel confined? So, you just stared back at him and shrugged.

“Law number one. I need a yes or no. You can do that. I know you can.” You gulped and nodded your head. He picked you up, but instead of picking you up bridal style like he usually did, he picked you up like he would a child. Wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

He walked you back to your room abandoning the rest of the ice cream to melt on the counter. You buried you face into his neck and you felt his fingers comb through your hair. He sat down on the bed and pulled you close to him. “I’ve had my fair share of anxiety attacks. They suck… ass. I get that. The only thing you can do is breath and try and clear you mind.” He continued to run his fingers through your hair, and you could feel your heartbeat start to slow down to match his. “So, uh… I guess I’ll try to distract you. I could tell you a story about me. Would you like that?”

You could already feel yourself starting to calm down, but you didn’t want to pass up on an opportunity to learn more about him, so you simply nodded and burrowed further into him.

You could feel him shift uncomfortably underneath you. “When I first got away from my family. I was just a dumb kid. I was angry and hell bent on proving to anyone who even looked my way that I was strong. Once I was running an errand for the league at a local market and I saw Shoto. It was after his accident, but his hair was a dead giveaway. He was there with Fuyumi, I think she was just trying to keep him busy.”

He leaned back and pulled you with him making the two of you more comfortable. “I saw his scar and was so sure that our dad did it. I was ready to hunt him down and kick his ass.” He sighed before letting out a small chuckle, “But then the squirt did the weirdest thing. It was like he was drawn to me. I looked nothing like the brother he knew. Black hair, scars, and staples, But he broke free of Fuyumi and ran straight towards me. Out of instinct I leaned down to pick him up, but he stopped right as he got to me. He put a hand up to my face and then to his own scar. He looked me square in the eyes and said ‘Ouch’ and then just ran away.”

You smiled, that definitely sounded like Todoroki. The more you thought about it, there were definitely some small similarities between the two brothers. Not that you’d mention that to either of them.

Dabi continued to talk and tell you stories until you eventually drifted off into dreams of young Dabi and what he would have been like. Your mind conjured up images of him in a UA uniform. Him competing in a sports festival. Him in a library studying for exams.

Unfortunately, your dreams didn’t last long. You woke a few hours later with a stabbing pain in your abdomen. You whimpered as you tried to roll over in an attempt to find a position that would alleviate the pain. Instead you rolled straight into the lean body of Dabi. Oh no. Dabi. You needed to get cleaned up before he woke up.

You tried to roll away from him, but his arm snaked around you and pulled you closer, “Y/n? What’s wrong? Have a bad dream?” He remembered that he wasn’t going to get a verbal answer, so he opened his eyes to see you looking absolutely miserable. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

You nodded but then winced when a really bad cramp rocked through you. You had always had really painful periods, but you hadn’t had to feel it in it’s full affects in years.

“Bullshit, you don’t look okay. Are you sick?”

Not even bothering to answer, you pushed away from him and slowly made your way to the bathroom. He leaned over to turn the bedside lamp on and that’s when it clicked for him. “Holy shit! How are you even alive, that’s a fuck ton of blood. I’ve been stabbed before and I didn’t bleed that much.”

You knew he was just being dramatic, but it still made you cringe that he was witnessing this. You could hear him stripping the sheets as you turned the shower on. Now all your recent mood swings made sense. Just last night you had been pissed, horny, and crying all in the span of several minutes. Stupid hormones.

When you stepped out of the shower there was a box of tampons and a box of pads sitting on the counter next to the sink. Just seeing them made you pout. You fucking hated your period.

You stepped out once you were dressed and heard the buzz of the dryer. Surely there was no way Dabi had cleaned the sheet that fast. You walked out of the bedroom to see him rushing towards you with a massive blanket. He stopped when he saw you standing in the hallway. “Uh… okay. So, game plan. I warmed up a blanket. I have Fruits Basket queued up and chocolate chip pancakes are on stand bye.”

Your eyes widened ~How?~

“How what? How did I know?” You nodded and he you swear to god he blushed. “I uh… I may have texted my brother. Who texted Bakugo, who called me, and now here we are.”

That made more sense. Katsuki had always been the only one who could handle your mood swings when you were menstruating. Everyone else claimed you were too scary. When you were younger your quirk would become unpredictable and it would randomly activate at the most inconvenient times. Your quirk used to be heavily influenced by your emotions, and when your monthly cycle came around it was almost impossible to control your emotions.

It took him a few tries but eventually Katsuki got the routine down. Warm blanket, something sweet, and some sappy anime, which we’d never admit it, but he actually loved.

You accepted the blanket from him and hobbled towards the couch. You pulled your knees to your chest in an attempt to get comfortable. Dabi disappeared but quickly returned with the pancakes. “I’m an idiot for not thinking about this. It obviously was going to happen at some point. You’ve been here for about three weeks.”

~Thank you~ You took the pancakes from him and he gave you a weird look.

“Okay I’m not good at the whole taking care of others thing. So… do I leave you alone? Do you expect me to watch this shit with you?”

You glared at him as you ate your pancakes and because you were already in a bad mood… you shrugged. Did you do it on purpose to piss him off. Of course.

He growled before throwing himself down on the couch next to you. “You’re lucky you don’t feel good you fucking brat. I’m really trying to be nice.”

You ignored him and hit play. You knew you were being ridiculous, but you also couldn’t stop yourself. It was like you wanted his attention any way you could get it. You finished your pancakes and were about two episodes into the show, but your cramps hadn’t subsided. You whined as you hugged the blanket around you and started to toss around trying to find a position, any position that would help with your cramps.

You thought Dabi had fallen back asleep, so you were scared shitless when his arms wrapped around you and pulled you down onto his chest. He was laying on his back pinning your chest to his. You could barely see the blue of his eyes in the dark. He looked so tired though. “Just smack me if it’s too much… but do you trust me?”

You bit your lip but nodded anyways. You knew by now that Dabi would stop if you asked him to. So, while you were nervous about what he was going to do, you also trusted him to listen to you.

He reached his hands around and pushed his hands just past the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Your breath hitched but his hands stopped there. You wondered what he was doing, but then his hands started to heat up and oh shit did it feel good. It was like he was your own personal heating pad.

You hummed into his neck and shifted a little bit to sink further into him. You hiked one of your legs up and wiggled to push yourself into his hands more, chasing the warm comfort.

You stayed like that for a while. The tops of his fingers ghosting over the curve of your ass as his palms pressed into your lower back. It was honestly impressive how he his hands were just hot enough to feel good without burning you.

Dabi sucked in a breath, “You like that huh?” He pulled you closer to him. His hands started to knead into your lower back as he buried his nose into your hair. You let out a groan at how good it felt. Before you could stop yourself you grinded down on his thigh. “Oh, you really like it…” You could hear the playful note in his voice. “Like I said… stop me if it’s too much.”

You knew what direction this was heading, and you didn’t care because it felt so good. His hands slipped lower and grabbed your ass and started to massage your cheeks before pulling you down hard into his thigh. “I heard somewhere…” His mouth was at your ear now nipping at the shell of it. “That the best thing for period cramps…” He moved his thigh up to meet your center as his hands pulled you down and moved you back and forth. “Is an orgasm.” Your fingers found his shirt and gripped onto it while you started to ride his thigh. “I would be selfish not to help you out.” His lips found your neck and he pressed gentle featherlike kisses there, making you sigh. “Take what you need from me baby.”

He gave your ass a hard squeeze before giving it a slap. “Fuck, your ass is perfect.” He gripped your hair and pulled you back and his lips met yours and you moaned at how delicious it was. This. This is what you needed. You needed someone to make you forget. To make you feel like you weren’t some fragile and broken toy. He was letting you take the lead while he maintained all of the control.

Your hand reached up and cupped his cheek. Your quirk activated and in your touch you could feel his overwhelming desire. You could also feel hesitation. He must be worried about pushing you too far. You pushed your lust back at him through your touch to reassure him you were more than okay this. He growled and deepened your kiss before yanking himself away. “Fuck Y/n! I-I think you’re quirk triggered. You smell… god you smell so fucking good!”

You grit your teeth. You wanted to tell him sorry, but the words wouldn’t leave your lips. His hands came to your hips and pulled you, so you were now grinding on his already hard dick. Your hands stopped his as you shook your head no. Now you were worried you were the one taking advantage of him. You knew your smell could be overwhelming.

He panted as he bucked up, “No, please don’t stop on my account. It’s fucking hot. I promise you y/n… if you ever let me…” One of his hands found it’s way back to your ass while the other snaked into your shorts and started to rub your clit through your underwear. “I’ll show you what it feels like to be fucking worshiped.”

You felt your orgasm quickly building and Dabi could tell. He could see the way your chest heaved and he could feel the way you began to frantically snap your hips. He kissed up your neck while he picked up the speed on your clit. “You want to know why?” He bucked his hips hard up into yours. “Because you’re a good girl. You are MY good girl.”

That was all you needed. You shook and your thighs squeezed around him. He kept going to help you ride it out as long as possible. You felt all your tension bleed out. All of the stress of the past couple days, hell the past couple weeks, didn’t even matter anymore. And all you did was ride his thigh.

When you finally had enough you grabbed his hand and squeezed. Panting you nuzzled back up to him and his hands trailed up and down your spine. “That’s my girl. Good job.” He kissed the top of your head and pulled the blanket back up over you. “Now let’s get some sleep.” We can skip the routine tomorrow. We can just do this instead. One day off won’t kill you.”

You hummed as you melted into him. Your eyes drooped closed and the last thing you remembered was Dabi grabbing your thigh and hitching your leg over his waist.

“The gag won’t be enough. We need to make sure she doesn’t even have the option of talking.” That voice sent chills down your spine. It belonged to the man you only knew as Dr. A3. They never used their names around you. Just an extra precaution in case you were to escape. Dr. A3 was the one who seemed to be in charge of all our your “experiments”. He was psychotic and you hate him with every cell in your body.

You were back on that table. You opened your eyes, but you couldn’t see anything but the blindfold.

“I can handle that, but my quirk will eventually ware off.” That was Cogernot. He was technically a villain who was being held in the same way you were. His quirk allowed him to manipulate with people’s cognition. He could turn off your senses, mess with your memories, and so much more. It was common that they grouped the two of you together in the lab.

“That’s fine how long do you think it’ll last?”

Cogernot sighed, “It’s different with every person but the more often I do it the longer it’ll last. But you have to be careful. If I mess with her too much it could become permanent.”

Dr. A3 laughed, “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. If that girl were able to talk, she could easily escape, or even worse she could make us all kill one another.” He ran a hand through your tangled hair and you winced in pain. “Besides girls like her are meant to be seen and not heard. We have another girl here who can walk through people’s dreams and convince them to do all kinds of stuff. We don’t need y/n’s honeyed words anymore. Do it.”

“If you say so… But don’t come crying to me when I accidentally break your favorite toy.”

You felt a hand press to your forehead, and you felt something snap.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you found that you were still laying on top of Dabi in his living room. You were able to keep your panic at bay by slowly breathing and counting in your head. You matched your breathing to Dabi’s, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

You looked at his sleeping face. He looked so different like this, when he wasn’t yelling at you or teasing you. A flush came over your cheeks when you remembered what happened earlier that morning. You traced your finger over the staples under his eyes.

His hand flew up and grabbed your wrist. “Can I help you?” He didn’t even bother to open his eyes, so you shoved on his shoulder to make him look at you. “I literally just woke up and you’re already begging for attention.” It drove you crazy that he wouldn’t open his eyes to look at you. The asshole knew you couldn’t talk…. Couldn’t talk.

The dream came crashing back to you. You pushed yourself off of him and went in search for your journal.

“Wait y/n… come on. Come back. I’ll open my eyes. Don’t throw a fucking temper tantrum over it Jesus.”

You came back with your journal and sat down on the table that was across from the couch and started to write everything you could remember about your dream. Dabi sat up and tried to smooth his hand up your thigh but you paused your writing long enough to slap it away. ~Not now~

“There’s no way you’re that mad. Come on what are you writing. Is this our first fight? Are fighting right now? That’s cute.”

You scowled as you shoved your journal in his face. The look on his face went from amused to concerned as he started reading.

“Wait that’s where Cogernot has fucking been this whole time? We thought he died.” He looked at you “How many times did he use his quirk on you?”

You shrugged and for once he didn’t yell at you for it.

He ran a hand through his white hair. “So, if this is really just his quirk and not some kind of trauma then it should ware off soon. That idiots quirk usually only lasts for a couple of hours though, sometimes a few days. I’ve never seen it last this long.” He stood up and started to pace. You watched him go back and forth a few times before he threw his hands in the air, “Shit!” He picked up a pillow and it immediately turned to ash.

He looked back to you and saw the alarm in your eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m overreacting. It’s just – That fucking idiot may have permanently fucked you up.” You cringed at his words. Was that how he saw you? Fucked up?

He started pacing again, “He told me once there was a way to override his quirk though. You just have to convince your brain that it’s dying. Something about that kicks it into gear and nullifies his quirk.” He looked to the pool and then to you. “We could drown you! I know CPR, it’ll be fine.”

~NO NO NO~ The look in Dabi’s eyes was starting to scare you. He looked like he was ready to do it no matter what you said. As much as you wanted to talk again, you didn’t think it was worth risking your life over. But apparently, he did. Apparently learning sign, and reading your journal was just too much work for him. If he was this desperate to fix it… if he was willing to drown you just so you could talk….

You were ripped from your thoughts when he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder. You kicked and hit him while tears streamed down your cheeks. There was no way he would go through with this… right?

You heard the sliding glass door open and all the sudden you were only steps away from the pool. You couldn’t see into his eyes, you couldn’t see what was going on in that fucked up head of his. You slid a hand under his shirt right before he got to the pool and did the only thing you could think of. You showed him how scared you were. You made him feel that terror. He paused only for a moment before jumping in the pool.

He let go only for a few seconds just so he could pull your back to his chest and whisper into your hair. “I know you’re going to hate me, but eventually you will think me for this.”

And then he was shoving you under. You clawed at his arms, ripping several of his staples out. You poured all of your terror and your pain into your touch and grabbed his wrists that were holding you under.

This was fucked up, this was so fucked up. You didn’t want to die. Why was he doing this? He didn’t even know if it would work! Your panic wasn’t making it any easier. You were losing oxygen fast and before you knew it you were starting to black out. You were going to die… You were going to drown in the same pool he had held you in so sweetly and helped you rehabilitate in. Your fingers ceased their scratching and your arms fell limp.

He didn’t bring you back up until you had stopped moving completely. He pulled you back up to the surface and immediately laid you down on the hard-concrete outside of the pool. In seconds he was on you preforming CPR. “Come on… You’re strong. You can take a little drowning. Hell, I’ve drowned a few times. Well I’ve been waterboarded… I don’t know if that exactly the same thing.” He nervously babbled to your unconscious body as he continued his chest compressions. “Come on y/n! Fuck!” He pinched your nose and breathed into you. Just a few hours ago his lips had been on yours for an entirely different reason and he desperately wished he could go back to that moment now.

He continued his chest compressions tears pooling in his eyes. “COME ON Y/N!” He did this. This was his fault. His father was right about him. The world was right about him. He’s a monster. He was supposed to be protecting you. You trusted him and he did this to you. He had felt your fear, your pain, and he did it anyway.

The thought of you never getting to talk again had thrown him into a panic. The thought of those fuckers taking apart of who you were away from you made him see red. He acted impulsively and now he’s paying the price.

“WAKE UP! PLEASE!”

You coughed and water came flooding out of your mouth. He cried out in relief and rolled you onto your side and patted your back to help you expel the water from your lungs.

It fucking burned. Your throat was raw from the chlorine and your brain was foggy from the lack of oxygen.

“Y/n… I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I-I don’t even know what to say.”

He reached his hand out to touch your face but you caught it. You stared into his eyes with as much hate as a person could have and gripped his hand so hard you could feel your nails cutting into his skin, “Fuck… You…”

*****************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe @unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 4 years

Text

all three heartbeats

bakugou katsuki / f.reader

genre: married au (husband/wife), angst, hurt/comfort?, fluff, katsuki being a sap in lowercase

synposis: katsuki works full time as a prohero, but his time working to ensure the publics safety kept him busy- far too busy at times. he seeks comfort in you and his newborn little girl because the both of you keep him grounded and keep him fighting. he just wishes he could find a way to feel like a better father and husband.

w.count: 3.6k

a/n: hi hello i aint never written for bnha before and i thought i would never write anime fics again but here we are years after (it has been actual years, someone save me LOL). what better way than to start back out with blasty amiright?

It was one of those nights. Katsuki had just walked into his home at an ungodly hour and as he shut the door behind him, he leaned his back against it, He flicked all three locks of the front door shut and dropped his duffle bag at his feet before he tipped his head back to rest on the wood. He closed his eyes, sighing as he had the urge to just sink to the floor of the entryway landing and power nap.

Lord knows when his phone would buzz or ring again- his seemingly never ending work calling him to clock in again. It seemed like recently he never clocked out of his job- always working, patrolling, fighting petty villains trying to commit petty crimes and occasionally stopping more dangerous situations that kept him on edge and busy for hours to days on end.

The duffle he dropped at his feet was full with his gear and his hero suit that was in desperate need of washing and minor repairs- things that if he even muttered to himself about, you would happily offer your aid.

His closed eyes opened and his chin dropped back down, the back of his head coming off the door as he pushed the rest of his body off it as well. He heeled off his shoes and ruffled his hair as he finally walked into his home, leaving his duffle at the door as he made his way to the bathroom.

In all honesty, Katsuki wanted to go immediately to the room he shared with you where he knew you were asleep. He desperately needed a shower though, and he wasn’t planning on crawling into bed to hold you smelling like sweat, smoke and hero work.

You told him before you didn’t mind his post-work scent, in fact you told him it was charming in it’s own way since it was proof that Pro Hero: Dynamight worked harder than anyone else to one day be the No.1 Hero he’d been dreaming of his entire life.

Katsuki never told you, but he’d think about that almost everyday and it always made him smile when he did.

The shower he took was brisk and quick because all he wanted to do was go to bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t just taking power naps on the couch at the agency. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to go to sleep in his own bed. Katsuki couldn’t remember the last time he got to hold you and it was starting to really piss him off.

Since graduating UA, getting engaged, married and then having a child with you, is tempter had considerably settled. He wasn’t entirely tame by any means, he was still a quick fire with insults, refused to use people’s names and stuck to stupid nicknames he thought of, cursed like a sailor and exploded when something mildly frustrating ticked him off- but he wasn’t like he was before.

When Katsuki can stand to be in the same room as Todoroki and Midoriya and not blow a giant fuse within the first sentence exchange, anyone would call that progress.

It was no shock that you were a large factor in his settled image- he had to start leaning self control and how to manager his attitude. The one extremely rocky point in your relationship with Katsuki back when you both were third years and you threatened to leave him if he didn’t shape up made him change. It wasn’t easy, but the arguments and fights you both had back then serve as a reminder of how far he had come according to you.

When Katsuki stepped out of the bathroom, he sighed- feeling refreshed- as he walked to the bedroom with a towel around his waist and another over his head drying his hair. It was way too late to be running the hairdryer, he’d risk waking up his child that he knew was otherwise dead to the world in their crib.

Twisting the doorknob as quietly as he could, Katsuki stepped into the bedroom and his eyes immediately looked to the bed, seeing your body’s shape beneath the comforter of the giant, Alaskan king bed you insisted you absolutely needed.

He felt his lips twitch as he left the door cracked to let in a small amount of light from the hall without stirring you. He went to his dresser and snatched a pair of shorts and a tank top and threw them on before he left the room as quietly as he had come in.

Katsuki went back to the front door and picked up his duffle bag, moving it into the living room and setting it on the couch to fiddle with it in the morning. He grabbed his phone from the side pouch of the duffle and began to shut the lights off and retreated back down the hall.

Before he went back to the room you slept in to join you, he stopped first in the room that was directly across the hall from his and yours and as quiet as a mouse crept in.

The nursey was painted in a pale yellow with sunflowers painted on the walls (curtesy of the bakusquad who insisted they were in charge of nursery decorations). Against the wall was a shelved cubby for toys and items for the baby and beside that was a changing table. Across the room was a tall dresser filled with way too many baby onesies and outfits for the future.

Katsuki walked to the white, wooden crib at the back of the room as the room itself was glowing in the soft, blue light of the baby’s nightlight. He leaned over the crib side and looked down to see his child sleeping just as quiet as can be.

He smiled as he reached down and stroked her chubby cheeks with the back of his knuckles. She was warm and soft.

“Hey there, Girlie,” he whispered, barely audible. Just watching his little girl sleep so soundly made his chest warm. God, he loved her so much. He frowned as he thought about how tough it might be on you while he’s away looking after her by yourself. She was barely a few months old and he hasn’t even had a weekend with you two yet.

Katsuki bit his lip to keep from letting the disappointment he felt in himself slip out in the form of growls.

He stuck around in the nursey for a few more minutes, just petting and admiring his child before he snuck back out and finally, finally went back to his room and as carefully as possible slid into bed.

You slept in the center of the bed that could easily fit four sleeping bodies, and Katsuki shuffled in further towards you before he was right behind you. He stared at your back in the dark room, his eyes adjusting more and more as the minutes pass.

Katsuki lightly grabbed your shoulder before he was pulling you to your back and then reaching over you to lay on your chest. On an ordinary day, Katsuki would be happy just holding you, but he felt especially worn out and drained. So, for once, even if you were sleeping, he just wanted to be held instead.

His cheek pushed into your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat beneath his ear. His right arm stretched over your shoulder to rest by your head and his left stayed beside his own body, his right leg hiked over your waist to be as close to you as he could get.

He felt his eyes roll before he shut them, finally feeling comfortable and warm and safe for the first time in days. He was finally breathing easy and all he wanted to do was stay here, in your arms, for the rest of his life.

As he started to finally doze off, his eyes fluttered open at the feeling of something carding through his hair.

He heard you take a deep breath before you were shifting just a bit to curl around him more and he felt your chin push against the top of his head.

“Go back to sleep,” he muttered, feeling your sleepy gaze on the top of his head. The small, sleepy chuckle that left your chest hummed against his cheek.

“Welcome home,” you whispered, sleep laced heavily in your voice as he felt your lips push against his scalp. “How was work?” You ask so innocently, but the question only made Katsuki burrow his face into your chest further. He doesn’t answer you, so you prompt him further. “Katsuki?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered, lifting his face just enough to speak clearly then pushing it back down again.

You say nothing at that and instead return to just carding your fingers through his semi-damp hair as you bask in each other and the silence of the house. You glance over to the alarm clock, seeing the time 4:03 am in orange, glowing numbers.

You feel like you have loads you want to talk about with Katsuki, things you want to share with him that had happened and things you want to have him tell you that’s happened, but it’s too quiet and too peaceful to bring them up. They’d have to wait.

“’m sorry,” he suddenly spoke from where he lay on your chest. Your fingers stop their mindless fiddling in his hair and he grips onto you tighter.

“What for?”

“Not being here.”

You felt your heart crack at the tone of his voice. He’s always been more open and mushy around you- as much as he denies it and he only get’s more open and more mushy when he was sleep deprived and just plain exhausted.

“I’m always working, always gone, always away doing fuck-knows-what out there and not here. I’m not home and that’s gotta really fucking suck.” He’s silent for a moment but you dare not speak. You feel like he’s been holding a lot in recently and if he’s choosing now to let it all out, you would silently encourage him to do that.

“I mean-” he scoffs at himself, “we’re married for fucks sake. We have a baby and I’m basically leaving you home alone day after day to raise her by yourself.”

“What?” Your shocked to think that’s how he feels. “Katsuki, that’s not-”

“It feels true,” he whimpers. “I feel like if I keep doing this, keep leaving you and Misuzu alone,” his voice cracks at the sound of his daughter’s name leaving his lips, “then you’ll both just disappear and I won’t even have the balls to go after you two.” You think you feel something wet seep through your sleep shirt, but you don’t say a thing about it. “I don’t feel like a husband and I don’t feel like a father. How can I feel like a hero if I can’t even spare the time to be with my god damn family?”

“Well,” you start. In truth, all you want to do is console him, but for all you know that could make him feel worse. You had to figure out what he wanted first. “What do you want to do then?”

He took a deep breath before he let it out again.

“I think I’m going to take some time off,” he concluded. It had been on his mind recently and now was as good a time as any. He just wanted to be home. “Maybe a week or two.”

“If that’s what you really want to do, then I think that’s a great idea. Just don’t forget to tell Eijirou or else he’ll blow a fuse if he just think’s your late because the great Dynamight is always punctual.”

You got a hearty puff of air and smile out of him for that little line. it was no shock that when all came down to it, Kirishima Eijirou and Bakugou Katsuki ended up working in the same agency.

“I’ll just text the bastard.”

“You need to tell the agency too, you dolt,” you lightly whacked him on the bed as he groaned. Getting time off wasn’t going to be hard for him considering the god awful hours he’s been forced into the past however long. Just going into the office to get that time off is annoying and a process he wish he could get someone else do to for him. “Just head out in the morning and let both your partner and your agency know. It won’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he huffed. “Just, go back to sleep.”

You glanced back at the clock to see that only about half and hour had passed. You sighed as you closed your eyes happily ready to return to sleep before Misuzu woke up.

You swore Katsuki was out before you.

-x-x-x-

You woke up three hours later, just after 7 am to the sounds of your daughter’s crying from her nursey. When you opened your eyes and sat up, your husband was no where to be seen.

You frowned, knowing that he was awake somewhere and he had only slept a few hours. Shaking your head, you got up and went to Misuzu’s room to get her from her crib and bring her into your arms.

You shushed the infant in your arms as you left the nursey and walked around the house. Katsuki was no where to be found and his everyday shoes were gone from the shoe rack next to the door. He must’ve went out already.

Not thinking much of it, you moved to the kitchen to grab one of Mizusu’s bottles from the fridge. One plus of pumping was getting bottles for the future- but that was one of the only pros among a number of cons.

With Misuzu being still so young, she didn’t do much beside nursing, napping and diaper calls. She would coo and whine and clutch onto your fingers and clothes and hair, but her energy was never prolonged.

After nursing, burping and playing with her she was yawning again. You left to place her back in her crib in her room as you let he sleep a little while longer. Flipping on the baby monitor, you left the room and went to the kitchen. Your daughter had breakfast, it was only fair that you got something to eat too.

As you scrambled the last eggs in your fridge, enough for Katsuki just in case you saw him this morning, you heard the front door open and shut again. You smiled as you heard footsteps come treading into the kitchen and you looked over your shoulder to see your husband.

You smiled at him as he rubbed the back of his head. Dressed in jeans that tore just slightly in the thighs and a t-shirt, Wwhen he saw you, he immediately started going towards you.

“Good morning,” you told him as he was at your side looking over your shoulder. “Welcome home.”

“Mmn,” he hummed at you.

“Where’d you go so early in the morning?”

“Agency.”

“You should’ve slept in a little bit more. You didn’t sleep long.”

“I didn’t want to wait any more to just be able to stay home.”

You smiled at his answer. You brought one hand up to pat his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Why don’t you go get comfortable if you’re staying home then?”

He hummed at you again, nodding before he kissed your shoulder and sauntered back into your shared room. He took his time getting changed and getting into more homey clothes, because when he came back into the kitchen you were placing your food on plates for the both of you.

This time, when he came to you, instead of standing beside you, he latched onto you from behind as he buried his face into your neck. You could tell from the feeling of his eyelashes tickling your skin that he was still tired. You had half a mind to tell him to just go back to bed and he could really wake up and eat later.

The way he tightened his grip on your waist and started to sway ever so gently back and forth in the kitchen made you stay silent though. It was a serene moment between you two and you just closed your eyes and basked in it. It had been so long since you just got to bask in him and him in you.

“You hungry?” You asked as softly as you could muster. He nodded but made no effort to try and move away from you. “Do you expect to eat with your face hidden?” You teased.

“Just a little longer,” he muffled, his breath making your skin rise with gooseflesh as it tickled.

Half and hour later, you were taking his plate from him as he cleaned it of food and went to put them in the sink. He jumped from his chair at the table before he was gently moving you away from the metal hole in the counter where you were about to wash the dishes you had dirtied this morning.

“I’ll wash them,” he insisted.

“I don’t mind doing it.”

“Don’t be so damned stubborn. You cooked, so it’s fair.”

You shrugged as you relented. “If you really insist. Thank you, Katsuki.” You placed a small, short kiss on his cheek before you moved back to the table to sit.

As he cleaned up the dishes, you sat at the table and fiddled with your phone, scrolling through apps to see what you missed and then flicking occasionally to watch Katsuki’s back.

“I feel you fuckin’ staring,” he spoke as he shut the water off, shaking his hands before he dried them on a towel. The dishes all sat in a plastic draining rack as he turned around and leaned against the counter. You placed your chin in your palm as you laughed at him.

“Yeah? Got a problem with it?”

“Not necessarily.”

You both jumped when a small whine was heard over the speaker of the baby monitor you had sitting on the center of the table. You pushed your chair out, but before you could even stand up, Katsuki was up and down the hall to check on Misuzu.

When you made it to her door, he had already lifted her out of her crib. She had reached up and snagged a tiny handful of her father’s hair as he hissed.

“Listen you little brat, just because your my baby doesn’t mean you can yank on my hair.” Her small fist only yanked down on his hair more as if to say ‘I can and will’. You chuckled as you walked into the nursey and started to detangle her hand from his blond hair.

Katsuki watched as her fingers released his hair and instead wrapped around your finger as you bounced it slightly. Her tiny arm moved in tandem with your finger bounces.

“Hey,” your soft voice calling him suddenly brought him out of his own mind. You gently pulled Misuzu’s fingers off you as you pushed your palm against Katsuki’s cheek. “Why are you crying?”

Was he? God, he hated crying- especially in front of you. He clicked his tongue, whipping his head to face away from you as he used one of his hands to quickly swipe under his eyes.

“I’m not.”

You smiled at him, holding back a laugh as you pushed your husband into the living room to let Misuzu play on the floor. Katsuki sat on the living room floor cross legged as you watched him play with her as she lay on her back.

Occasionally he would glance at the time and remind you to pump, as if your tender chest wasn’t a constant reminder anyway. You always just nodded and told him you would when you needed to.

The three of you spent the morning in the living room until the infant began to yawn back to back and rub at her eyes clumsily. You let Katsuki put her down for her nap in the afternoon since he never really had the opportunity to. Through the baby monitor you could hear him mutter and coo at her to go to sleep.

When she was down, Katsuki came back into the living room and sat himself beside you on the couch. He sighed, throwing his head back against the couch and closing his eyes, obviously ready for a nap himself.

“Why not try and sleep while she’s down?” You had planned on getting him to rest while you start to go through the duffle bag you had relocated to the corner of the room a while ago to see what all he needed done with his hero equipment.

He opened one of his eyes, seeing you eyeing towards his bag and he frowned. He shifted his body, snatched your waist and threw himself back to lay on the cushions, you following in tow to lay on top of him.

“Katsuki!” You scolded in a hushed tone as to not wake up your daughter who just went to sleep.

“I’ll nap here and you will too. No objections.” He brought one of his hands up to start stroking your head. “Just let me take care of my god damn wife for once.” You just shook your head and pushed your cheek further against his chest to get comfortable. When he says it like that, you can’t really bring yourself to oppose him.

“Hey,” you whispered. You felt him hum in response to you. “I love you.”

His legs shifted and his arms wrapped around you tighter, getting more comfortable. He let out a deep, comfortable breath as you felt him push his cheek into the top of your head.

“‘Fuckin’ love you too.”

452 notes · View notes

harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Text

Insecure

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One Too

A/N: I had a MASSIVE brain fart once I finally started writing so i hope this one doesn’t suck...enjoy🙃

Like every other person in this world, Harry too had his moments of heightened insecurity. Even though he absolutely loved having a bit of an age gap in between the two of you, being with a younger woman tended to bring light to some of the inevitable aspects of getting older. He was as far as he could possibly be with the majority of the those things, but the main one that stuck out to Harry the most though was his graying hair. It started off with a couple of sporadic hairs throughout the thick and luscious patch of curls that covered his entire head. But after a while, and a short one at that, the gray began to invade his entire head. Now his hair was still the same in terms of being thick curly and luscious, it just changed a different color. At least, that’s the way you looked at it. Harry on the other hand took this as him getting so old that he was unattractive and ultimately undatable to you. Which was not the case at all. He considered having chocolate brown curls as an indicator of youth and now that he no longer had it, Harry tended to get a bit downhearted and insecure when he took a look into the mirror just to be met with a head of gray hair.

But luckily for him, he had the best cheerleader in the entire world. You.

Now you weren’t doing cartwheels and backflips. But you were spreading your legs for him at any given moment. When you first saw Harry’s gray hair, you were floored. You were literally trying to figure out how someone managed to get hotter as the got older. To you, he was the epitome of aging like fine wine. The dark gray with the perfectly placed patches of lighter more silver hair fit him perfectly. You couldn’t believe how good he looked. And you made sure to tell him that. Even before you were able to fully see that he was a bit insecure about the new hair color, you were constantly doting on him and gushing over how good he looked. You were all over him to say the least. He looked so good that you went as far as to consider skipping a little bit ahead to the baby making so that he could be a dilf. For you, the gray hair was magical. Him being older, mature, hot, and a great person was good enough for you, you’d already gotten your icing on the cake. But the gray was like an extra layer of icing plus sprinkles. And even if you weren’t an excessive fan of the color like you were, you loved Harry. Harry meant everything to you. So brown hair or not, he was still the man you fell in love with and will continue falling deeper and deeper in love with. But despite your continued, love and arousal filled efforts, Harry’s insecurity still lingered inside of him and tended to pop up from time to time.

And today just so happened to be one of those days.

After a mutual showering of cuddles, kisses, and amazing morning sex of course, it was time to get up. And per usual, Harry was the first one to pull back the covers and actually embrace the day ahead of him while you nuzzled yourself down into the covers and waited for him to drag you out of the bed. It was you guys’ morning routine at this point. Normally after about a couple minuets of using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, Harry’d come back into the bedroom to pull you out of bed so that you too could get started on the day. But those couple minuets ran a much longer this morning, and after a while you started to get concerned at the complete silence that was now consuming both rooms. So despite the fact that you were perfectly comfortable with being burrowed under the covers with Harry’s warm cum deep inside your tummy, you pull yourself out of the bed and you waddle over and into the bathroom to check in on Harry.

“What’s wrong baby?” You ask him softly once fully in the bathroom. You could see him staring intently at the mirror with a bit of a downcast look on his face. When he doesnt’ reply, you simply move behind him and wrap your arms around his midsection, holding his larger body in your arms.

“Think I might dye it.” Harry huffs, finally speaking to you about what’s made him so glum.

“You’re gonna what?!” You were completely shocked by this newfound information. And even though you were all for doing what makes you happy, you couldn’t let Harry do this. Without saying another word to him, you unwrap yourself from him and you move around so that you’re in front. You then push yourself in-between him and the counter before hoisting yourself up to be right in his face. “Now why on earth would you ever think about doing that baby?” You coo, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks.

“Just don’t want t’look old. Plus I don’t want anything to be weird for you.” He replies, trying to articulate why exactly he wants to dye his gray locks.

“Harry, you do not look old. And nothing is weird for me. If you think that people consider you, my delicious boyfriend, to be old and decrepit…you’re sadly mistaken!” You firmly reassure him. It was time for you to assume your role as cheerleader and become Harry’s “hypewoman” so that he can regain that confidence and own every last strand of gray hair on his head.

“S’just-“

“No, you listen me. You are the hottest, sexiest, most delicious man I’ve ever laid eyes on. And the gray hair intensifies that by a million.” You begin, passionately laying out all the facts for him to understand.

“Really?” He whispers doubtfully, bringing his hands up to place his hands over yours.

“Yes! You are the sexiest. Like you’re older than me, and so mature while still being incredibly sexy. It makes me so wet and needy for you.” You sigh dreamily, lifting your legs up and around his legs to tug him closer between your spread legs. “Just looking at you right now makes my mouth and pussy water baby.” You continue on. Right now, Harry was getting a major ego and confidence boost from you. He knew that you felt like this, but hearing you say it right now in this moment was hitting him on a completely different level. Not only was he starting to feel better, he was also starting to get aroused from your words.

“Really baby? Didn’t know you liked it this much.” He replies, removing his hands from yours and bringing them down to your thighs so that he can pull you closer to the edge.

“You’re so hot daddy.” You whisper finally, before pulling his face down so that you could smear your lips against his. And once you do, Harry’s mind is instantly in a million pieces. Like he was starting to feel a little buzz circulating through his body as you spoke. But now that he was feeling you on him, the was not only buzzing, he was on fire. As you kiss, Harry submits to you and allows for you to pull the reigns on this one. You were on a mission to make him feel hot and confident, so if you needed to be kinda sorta aggressive and strong, so be it. Your hands had made their way up and into his hair, your legs were wrapped around him, and his hands were moving back and forth between your hips and thighs; Everything was perfect. After giving him a good makeout for a couple more minuets, you decide to throw in one last thing that would bring him back up to his normal and pretty confident self.

“And I think that you’re especially hot when you’re between my legs eating my pussy. I love pulling on these gray curls.” You hum against his lips.

Right now, Harry felt like he could fly. His confidence was back and he was ready to put his sexiness to use and be especially hot like you said. And the way to do that is to bury his head between your thighs and get a taste of your undoubtedly delicious cunt. When he hears the words leave your mouth, Harry wastes no time springing into action. He pulls you closer to the edge and hoists you up into his arms before making a dash back into the bedroom. Since you were clinging onto him, as he crawled back onto the bed you were right below him still moaning against his lips as the you both moved in Harry with each other. He then lifts himself up a bit from you, spreading your legs apart and breaking the kiss.

“Now are you back to being the cocky little shit that I know and love?” You ask playfully, looking up to him in hopes of getting a yes answer.

“Mhm.” Harry mumbles through a chuckle.

“And are you going to eat my pussy now because I feel like we’re on that track?” You question further.

“Mhm.” Harry mumbles again in response, slowly inching his way lower and lower towards the area between your legs.

“Yay.” You sigh happily, dropping your head down against the bed to relax and just enjoy the ride.

Once Harry is fully down between your legs, he only spends a second admiring your messy pussy before diving in. His mouth is open wide as he covers most of your sticky mound and begins to lap his tongue up and down your folds. And as he did this, he’d push his tongue in so that he could really go in and fully lick into you. He also swirled and sucked on the most sensitive parts of your cunt. He knows your body inside and out so when it came to really pushing his tongue up down and inside your pussy, you had no doubts that Harry was going to really give it to you. As he does, your hands are stationed in his hair as he pleasures you. You manage keep a bit of a tight grip on him, trying your hardest to keep him as close as possible to you. You just wanted his mouth and hands all over you and you never wanted it to end.

While you were moaning your little heart out and calling out to daddy from how good it felt, Harry couldn’t have been better. He was throughly enjoying having his mouth on your cum filled pussy. He could taste a pleasant and delicious mixture of the two of you. It was so good that you could feel him sucking on your pussy to pull every last drop out, and he instructed you to push it out. He even moaned loudly against you, causing the vibrations to go right through your sensitive clit.

“Fuck daddy! Feel so good!” You out loudly to him. To get even deeper, Harry uses his hands that were scratching at and pinching your thighs to pull your cunt apart. This way, he was able to really eat you and push you to your release even quicker. When you feel his tongue prodding at your entrance you almost lose it. You’re squirming against the bed as he pushes his tongue against your hole.

“Like it when daddy eats this pretty cunt babydoll?” Harry asks, lifting his mouth up from you.

“So much daddy!” You whimper, feeling one of his fingers vigorously circling your clit.

“Daddy loves eating your precious cunt too.” He replies matter of factory before spitting right down onto you and moving to lick into you again.

As he continues on, you can feel your release getting closer and closer. Your stomach is tight and warm, and you can feel a bit of pressure down there. Your hands get even tighter in Harry’s hair as your release gets even closer.

“M’gonna cum daddy!” You whine out to him. When you say this, you let him know to amp it up a bit. So he moves his mouth up so suck on your swollen little clit, and pushes two fingers into you. He then begins to quickly fuck them in and out of you. As he moves them, Harry also curls them up into you so that he’s hitting your sweet spot as much as possible since he’s using his fingers this time. As his sucks on your clit get harder and his fingers become faster, your release is fast approaching and you can feel yourself beginning to slip right off the edge. “Fuck!” You cry out to him, not being able to hold it any longer and slipping right over into your release. When you feel your orgasm wash over your entire being, your body immediately relaxes and practically melts into the bed. It feels so good. And because you were with an older experienced man, you were able to feel this and more on a very regular basis. Once you’ve come down from your high a little and you’ve caught your breath, you turn your attention to Harry to do one final check in.

“Now are you feeling better baby?” You ask, moving you hand to the side of his face.

“Yeah, thanks baby. I love you.” Harry replies sweetly, keeping his head on your thigh and giving the other a squeeze.

“I love you too babe.” You reply happily.

“Get ready for a round 3 in the shower.” Harry announces, already getting geared for another pleasure filled round.

Even though Harry was the older one, you were the one getting worn out.

Masterlist

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thora-jane · 3 years

Text

Twin-Way Mirror pt iii

Series Summary: You've been friends with the Weasley twins since your first train to Hogwarts, but as the three of you start your 6th year, you start to question if your feelings go beyond friendship.

Summary for Pt 3: The twins help you to get settled and together you catch up on how your summers have been

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2,321

female!reader, 2nd person POV

Summary for Pt 1: After recalling how you first met Fred and George, you finally arrive at the burrow and reunite with your favorite twins.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2,196

female!reader, 2nd person POV

***

The three soon-to-be fourth years had brought in your things, and as you carried the owl cage and your yarn bag, Fred and George Carried your trunk, navigating up around the narrow bends of the staircases that wove their way through the burrow.

“Ginny offered to have you stay in her room-”

“But Hermione’s already there.”

“Harry’s sharing Ron’s room-”

“And ickle Percykins is too big headed and busy with important ministry work to share his room.”

The two let their conversation bounce back and forth before finishing in unison.

“So you’re staying in our room!”

“Don’t worry,” George nodded seriously as he kicked their door open, “All explosions shall be kept to a minimum, particularly during the wee hours of the night.”

“We understand that beauty sleep is very important to a lady at this stage in life. And we would not want to be the cause of you being any uglier than you already are,” Fred added, mirroring George’s tone as they set down your trunk in their room. After which George promptly smacked him on the head.

“How dare you insult our lovely guest. You foul git, no wonder you’re not her favorite!” You smiled to yourself, placing the cage on the windowsill and your bag on the cot. The two were still shoving each other, but as you turned around you were able to get the first good look at them that you’ve had in months.

They had both shot up so much in the past few months. And their hair, it was even longer than Harry or Ron’s.

It didn’t look too bad, either.

“Careful there, Eros might come back and fly straight into your mouth if you leave it hanging open like that,” George cracked, “Why the open drawbridge?”

You realized you might have been staring for a second, not only that, but your mouth wasn’t exactly closed. You clamped your jaw shut, then opened your mouth again to stammer out, “Your hair’s so...so tall.” You could feel your voice crack at the last word, and you immediately regretted it.

The two boys nearly fell on each other with laughter, gathering up a handful each of their hair and holding it up so it stood on end. Between laughs they both gasped out, “Your HAIR! So TALL!”

You sighed and rubbed a hand over your face. Grabbing a pillow off of one of the twin’s beds, you smacked them both with it. But your beating left no impact on their fits of giggles and instead they grabbed you hands and pulled you into a group hug, messing up your hair before you shoved their arms off with a grin and exasperated sigh.

“Shouldn’t we go wash up? I’m starving,” You said, trying to squeeze in between the twins and out the doorway. You paused, turning to the twin nearest to you and leaning up to their face, staring rather closely.

“Urm…(y/n)? What are you doing?” They hesitated, not breaking eye contact, but freezing up when you tucked their hair behind their ear. Your hand lingered slightly as you searched for a cluster of freckles but came up empty.

“Just trying to figure out which one you are. It’s a bit difficult with all that hair. Nice to see you again, Freddie.” You smiled, patting him on the head before heading off to the bathroom to wash up. You couldn’t hear exactly what had happened, but you figured one of them had smacked the other on the head again. It was a wonder no one had ever gotten a concussion with all the smacking and hitting that happened.

***

Dinner with the Weasleys was never a dull moment. Hardly anything was a dull moment with the Weasleys around. Soon enough, the nine of you retired to the living room, where you and Molly sat working on your projects while everyone else buzzed with excitement that you’d be off to the Quidditch World Cup in the morning.

“(y/n), you’re going to love it. It’s Ireland against Bulgaria and for sure Ireland is going to win!” One of the twins exclaimed from their spot behind you. Ron started to argue, going on about how Viktor Krum was far better than all of Ireland put together.

“He’s a fine example of what the true art of Quidditch can be! You of all people would appreciate that, right (y/n)?” Ron pleaded, ignoring Fred and George’s show of swoons and sighs and Ginny’s giggles from her spot on the couch. It was true, you were a fan of Quidditch, but you weren’t quite that great at it, something about it just didn’t quite stick with you.

But in no way were you bad at flying. You were actually fantastic at flying, and you loved it. In your first year of flying courses at Hogwarts, not only had you managed to exceed at flying, but you were also the only one to successfully dabble in broom tricks when Madame Hooch wasn’t looking. Flying wasn’t a game for you, it was more of a dance.

But of course, Quidditch was no dance.

“I’d like to see (y/n) try and play quidditch,” a twin laughed, sitting down next to your spot on the floor, laying back so his head was resting in your lap, “Artfulness only gets you so far, Ronald, but you need more than cool tricks to be good at Quidditch,” He looked up at you, an apologetic grin on his face, “no offense, of course.”

You looked down at him, his hair spread out on your yarn as he smiled up at you, eyes scanning your face for a moment. For a second, everything seemed to go quiet. Of course, it didn’t actually fall quiet, the other Weasleys continued on with the conversation. But you and Fred (your best guess, at least) didn’t say a word as you sat there, looking down at his head in your lap. It was the quietest he had been since before dinner. His face seemed so patient, like he wasn’t going to say anything until you said something first, like he was waiting for you to do something, or come up with some sort of response.

You felt your face get warmer, and your mind quickly made the excuse that the cause was from his breath. After all, his face was close enough to yours that you could feel him breathing on you.

You shrugged off the thought that this interaction held any particular meaning as you stuck out your tongue and poked him in the nose with your hook, “Get outta my face, Fred,” you retorted, biting back a smile.

He shot back to sitting in front of you, turning around so he could face you again as he leaned in with a frown, “Come now, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings but there’s no need to call me ugly! We both know you could make it onto the team if Oliver wasn’t such a stiff and Harry wasn’t an insufferable golden boy.”

You paused, setting down your yarn and hook. In the background you thought you heard Harry object to the twin’s comment, but you paid more attention to the face of the boy in front of you, tucking his long hair behind his ear and tilting his head in order to get a good look behind his ear. Freckles.

“My apologies, George,” you answered, not moving your hand from the side of his face.

“None taken, my fine lady friend,” He smiled, keeping his head still, “After all, noticing the subtle differences and nuanced signs of beauty is a skill that is only acquired through rigorous practice.”

You smirked, debating whether to move your hand or not. You could almost swear he was leaning into your touch, but you ignored the thought, “I take it you’ve had the practice?”

“Oh, years of it,” he winked. He opened his mouth again to say something else, but before he had the chance, Mr. and Mrs. Weasely stood up, announcing that they were off to bed.

“You kids ought to get some rest too, we leave bright and early tomorrow morning,” Mr. Weasely said, glancing over at all of you, “We’re meeting up with the Diggorys and it’s best not to keep Amos waiting.”

Shortly after, Ginny and Hermione got up and said their goodnights. Then Harry and Ron. After that, it was just you and the twins sitting around in the living room, with George had draped himself across the couch, Fred sitting on the floor leaning against the chair, and you sitting in the middle of the floor, lying on your back with your arms tucked behind your head.

“What about your summer, (y/n)? You’ve been awfully quiet about what you’ve been up to the past few months,” George asked lazily, his hand tucked under his chin as he watched you work at the lion's hat.

“Oh, not much. A bit of reading, a bit of yarn work, letter writing. Also having my parents pester me about studying traditional school subjects, but that’s nothing new,” You sighed, craning your neck to look back at him, “I don’t lead as exhilarating a life as you guys think I do.”

But George didn’t really seem to hear that last bit, “I don’t get it. You’re a witch. You’ve spent the past five years learning magic, wouldn’t those be your traditional subjects? That doesn’t really make sense. And besides, what if you decide to live fully in our world? Muggle University wouldn’t do you that much good, would it?” He rolled off the couch and laid down next to you, “I mean, say you were to live with us for the rest of your life. It wouldn’t matter much how in depth you know the muggle world, right?”

You paused, setting your project down on your chest, “I suppose you’re right,” you sighed, stretching your arms in front of you before placing them at your side, “But good luck explaining that to my mum and dad.”

“And what if we did?” Fred piped up, crawling over to be with the two of you, “What would they do? Not charm us with their lack of magic? How threatening! Oh, hold me (y/n) I’m quivering in my socks!” He declared, grabbing your hand and hugging it to his chest, “Will they dare recite their ‘traditional muggle subjects’ at me? How terrible!”

You laughed not pulling away as you waved your free hand dramatically in front of the three of you, “Traffic regulations! Basic laws of parliament! Analysis of English literature! Taxes! Maths!”

“Oh! I’m so scared!” he cried in a high-pitched voice, holding your hand tighter as he curled up into your side, “Don’t let them take me, (y/n)!” he mumbled into your shoulder. You couldn’t tell if he was laughing, or fake crying. Either way, you chuckled a bit before leaning your head against his with a sigh.

“I mean it though,” George started again as he rolled onto his front and stared up at the empty fireplace, “If you stayed with us in the wizarding world, would they still make you go to a muggle university?”

You looked at him thoughtfully before reaching up and ruffling his hair, “I’m not sure, Georgie. I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, yeah?” He looked down at you and stuck out his tongue, which you took as an agreement, before looking back to the clock.

“It is rather late, isn’t it?” you asked. Before he could respond, Fred started fake-snoring into your shirt sleeve, having not moved from when he curled up in the first place.

“Oh shut up, you big baby,” George rolled his eyes, nudging his brother’s head with his foot, “I’m going to bed. If this menace gives you any heartache just holler for your knight in shining armor and I’ll send mum to get his arse.” Fred mumbled something into your shoulder, hugging you close as George lightly kicked him again.

After George had started upstairs, you tilted your head to face Fred, “Do you plan on moving anytime soon, Freddie?” You smiled as he pulled you closer, mumbling something again before looking up at you.

“What if I’m already asleep?’’ he asked, a stupid grin on his face, “What would you do then? Awake a sleeping beauty? You wouldn’t. Would you?” he leaned up and kissed your forehead, “that would be a crime.”

For a second you could have sworn your heart stopped. You guys didn’t do kisses, did you? Mrs. Weasley did, and you once kissed Ron and Percy on the cheek as a joke. But you and the twins never did kisses. Was this a new thing? It might be. Part of you hoped it was.

You paused, several questions bubbling up in your mind. It was then that you noticed the look on Fred’s face, his brow furrowed and his eyes were scanning your face, “You alright, (y/n)?” He seemed nervous, and you could feel his arms pull back slightly.

After a moment, you smiled and sat up, “Never better. I am a bit tired though, and we have to get up early. We ought to go to bed, right?” You stood up, brushing back your hair before gathering up your project and stuffing it into your bag.

The two of you quietly began your way upstairs, his arm over your shoulder. You opened the door as quietly as you could, tip-toeing past George’s bed and over to your trunk, rifling through the dark to find a t-shirt and some sweatpants and heading off to the bathroom to change.

You were nearly out the door when a tired voice yawned from under blankets, “Goodnight, (y/n). Sweet dreams.”

You turned back, smiling, though you were sure he couldn’t see you. “Goodnight, Georgie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

#fred x you #fred x y/n #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #george x reader #george weasley #george x y/n #george x you

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athenadione · 4 years

Text

‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else.

Damian Wayne.

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again.

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene.

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim.

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded.

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind.

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned.

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance.

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else.

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers.

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him.

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home.

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting.

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space.

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again.

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it.

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes.

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well.

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her.

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go.

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar.

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly.

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say.

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

“She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle.

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root.

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways.

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh.

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed.

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning.

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now.

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods.

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.”

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?”

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps.

“I have a few ideas.” She purred.

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded.

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him.

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.”

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what?

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince. When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it.

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew.

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf.

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?”

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige.

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him.

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue.

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed.

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning.

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events.

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl.

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips.

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches.

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist.

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard.

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst.

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length.

“Let me go.” He glared.

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.”

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him.

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg.

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.”

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure.

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.”

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.”

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock.

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her.

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control.

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm.

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure.

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.”

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.”

He cursed. Goddamn her.

“Please, habibti. I am yours.”

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach.

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed.

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.”

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender.

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless.

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin.

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else.

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

#damirae #damian x raven #damian wayne #raven #teen titans #fanfic

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blackjackmagi83 · 2 years

Text

Criminal Behavior (7)

Masterlist

WC: 3.8k

Pairing: Druglords Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes X Detective Original Female Character

Summary: Rose Phillips, one of the best vice detectives in the game, was given a mission to catch the biggest drug lord in all of New York. James Buchanan Barnes. Framing as a lady of the night at a hidden gentlemen’s club, her mission being to do anything it takes to lure her target into her trap. Even if it means going through one of his accomplices to get there. Will the notorious criminals fall for her trap or will Rose fall for their criminal behavior?

Warnings: Lots of swearing, violence, and mild sexual content.

Hope you enjoy the chapter! ♡

Rose watched in silent excitement as Stark gripped the piece of paper. Eyes in disbelieving at the amount of names on the list in his hands. Most he recognized, sending a rush of panic and anger through him. He felt betrayed as he counted the names. He would have to take care of this mess himself.

"This is a great find, truly. I’m not doubting your skills but you're certain this was given to Rogers? I don’t want to be baited into unknown territory for nothing."

Rose shrugged, sipping at the bitter liquid swirling in the cup in her hand, "It was in his office, tucked away in a book. That’s a little sketchy. Plus when he dropped me off at my apartment he gave me a whole speech about going on a business trip for an uncertain amount of time and how much he’d miss me, sappy shit to cover up the real issue. Don't think it gets more certain than that."

Stark nodded, placing the paper in a folder on top of his desk before tucking it into one of the many filing cabinets behind it, "I'll have someone check it out, snap some pictures. You know, the usual routine."

Rose nodded again, drifting her eyes to her coffee, an unsettling amount of guilt burrowing her chest. She pounded the rest of her coffee down, needing the buzz of caffeine to distract her from thinking of the intrusive thoughts brewing at the back of her mind.

This is her job. To catch criminals like him. Like them. No strings attached, just pure acting and faking it till she made it to her goal. She had to keep chanting it to make it stick, forcing the thoughts back into the dark.

Tony's concerned expression came into her view, distracting her train of thought, "You alright there sunshine? You’ve gone a bit pale if that’s possible."

Rose sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, "I think I need to get back on the road again, I feel caged being stuck around these guys. They’re draining and piss me off more. Let me investigate Rogers. That way I get myself out of Brooklyn for some time but still keep an eye on him at least. I doubt Barnes will go anywhere, not without trying to get to me first. Just let me do something, Chief. Please."

She knew Natasha would be pissed at her again, abandoning her word on coming back to her old schedule. She could deal with her pissy tantrum later, she wanted this small relief. Like a caged circus animal, once used to the wild, now begging to run on the grass, even for a mere few seconds.

Tony immediately shook his head, fingers anxiously scratching at the thin facial hair that lined his chin and upper lip, "Absolutely not, it's too dangerous.”

She gave him a deadpan stare, "How is this any different from what I've done in the past? I’ve gotten knocked out, broken bones, hell I even got shot a few times. Trust me I’m a big girl, I can handle a little shadowing without issue."

“That’s exactly my point, you’re better off here. You need to distance yourself from Rogers and get closer to Barnes. Give me something, anything with him because you’ve given me nothing but a distribution list and to be frank that’s nowhere near enough to prosecute shit.” Tony refused to look at her, hiding the true reason he wouldn’t let her go. This was too personal for him to give it to anyone but himself and he didn’t want to admit it was because he worried for her safety. He knew these men more than he was letting on. But she didn't know that. Not now, not ever if possible.

Rose gritted her teeth at the insult to her ego, she wasn’t used to disappointing Stark while on a case as important as this one and certainly not with her level of experience, “I’m trying my best alright? Don’t forget I’m playing two different people here. I can’t be in two places at once. The minute either of them find out I’m the same person it’ll start a full on possession war between them and then what? Oh yeah, we’re fucked. Now give me the real reason you won’t let me investigate this and don't bullshit me on this. You've been fidgety and paranoid since I handed that list to you.”

Tony was almost to his limit with her bullshit, chewing at his bottom lip till he tasted the iron substance on his tongue, "Because I said no Rose. End of story."

Rose was begging almost on her hands and knees at this point, "Chief pl-"

Tony threw the coffee mug he was holding against the back wall, coffee and glass splattering everywhere, "For once in your fucking life will you listen and do what you're told?"

That shook Rose almost as far as her core. Stark had never acted out that way towards her or anyone for that matter before even with her constant annoyances. This side of him frightened her, her body shaking from the panic that rose from the archives of her body. Something that hasn’t been around since she was a child.

Rose sat there in stunned silence as Stark breathed heavily, head hung low in shame and boiling rage, “Just go Rose. Please.”

She gave a simple nod, trying not to let her body collapse beneath her as she walked out of the office. The commotion had echoed throughout the whole building, turning everyone’s eyes towards her hunched figure as she made it to the main floor. Their eyes burned holes in her, building scenarios that could've led to such an outrage from the composed chief. Especially towards his star detective.

Martin saw how she shrunk within herself, holding onto her arms anxiously as she walked by silently. He's only seen her like this when she first came into vice, shiny and untouched like a newly released action figure. Now that simply wouldn’t do for him though, he wanted to make her squirm.

“Awh did daddy yell at his babygirl? You gonna go cry to one of your boy toys about it? Maybe they’ll fuck you better if you ask nicely.”

Rose didn't say anything sarcastic back to his nasty remark. She didn’t say anything at all. Not even an eye in his direction. She breezed through him as if he was a leaf blowing in the wind beside her. Her mind reminiscing in the old emotions that began to pick at her, bringing back memories she wanted to keep locked up for the rest of eternity.

"Don't look at me like that sweetheart you know you did wrong. You know you should've listened like a good fucking girl but what did you do? What the fuck did you do Rose?!"

Stark held the same anger as her dad did that day. The day she left the house without permission to go play with a new friend she had made at school that day. One of the few people who weren't aware of her home life and was allowed to play with her. But like the others, that didn't last long. No one wanted to play with the girl who was in a broken home with parents who cared more about their next fix than their child. Where violence was a form of love and the shattering of glass was music. Who would allow their child to be around that life. No one.

Rose's senses dimmed from her emotional state, barely feeling the watchful eyes target her as she left the building, following her every step around the bustling city. She finally noticed something was off when she stopped at one of the crosswalks. The air had shifted to a heavy dread. She felt the culprit lurking quietly around every corner she turned, hidden in shadows and alleyways. If she wasn't used to being followed from past cases she'd be paranoid to the point of a breakdown by now. It was an expectation while in the field. What Rose didn't expect was to find Sam Wilson lounging on her couch with a glass of scotch when she entered her apartment.

She had her .38 revolver pointed towards the shadowed figure on the couch within seconds of hearing the ice clink. Her finger toyed with the trigger, hearing the satisfying click as she pushed the hammer down. The noise caught the figure’s attention as well, raising their glass in mock surrender.

"No need for the dramatics. Just came for a drink is all."

The figure pulled at the cord of the lamp in the corner beside them, revealing Sam Wilson, eyes in a continuous blank stare as he inspected her.

She lowered the gun, placing it back in the holster under her blouse. She carried whenever the opportunity allowed it. Stark's orders rather than her own. She wasn't trained to fight only to rely on a piece of metal that misfired more than she could count on.

Rose made herself a well deserved drink, nearly spilling the liquid all over the counter as her hands still shook from the incident with Stark. She sipped at the liquid for a moment, helping her nerves calm enough to try to assess the unexpected situation at hand now. If Sam was the one watching her then most likely he saw her come out of the station and tapped into her phone lines like Stark had predicted at the case briefing. God only knows what else he’s messed with in her apartment. Not to mention what he might have already told James.

Irritated at the thought of losing her only sense of privacy and lead in the case, she turned sharply, pounding the rest of the liquor down in a large gulp. Her hand slammed the glass on the counter top earning a less than impressed glance from the intruder, “Let’s cut to the chase, did James send you to spy on me?”

Sam ignored her question, eyes focused back on the amber liquid in the crystal container he held, “Enlighten me Rose, what is a young woman such as yourself doing with a weapon like that?”

She put on a neutral face as she held the urge to tap along the countertop, a clear sign of nervousness, “Protection.”

Sam shook his head, displeased with her response. He stood from his spot on the couch, glass still untouched, approaching her at the counter with a pointed finger, “Statistically, women tend to carry smaller weapons, like pocket knives, pepper spray, nothing lethal. Not unless trained that is. You see, I know a lot of things Rose, and I know for certain that only cops are allowed to carry those guns. So what are you doing with it?”

Rose visibly gulped involuntarily, the hole she had stepped in had gotten bigger beneath her, “It was originally my grandfather’s. He passed it down to me after he retired from the force.”

She wasn’t fully lying, her grandfather did serve but not on the police force. He served in the military, becoming one of the first founders of shield from what she was told. But that’s as much as she was allowed to know. Her grandfather was a very private man, especially when it came to his past.

"That why you became a cop? Follow in his legendary footsteps?" His eyes locked on hers as he sipped on his drink.

Not fully. The real reason was her hatred for the drugs that took over her life. The people who deal it out like a pack of candy, not a care given on the consequences. She couldn't let people like that get away, living the rich life while their customers lost everything, "That's the reason why I never could become a cop, to become like him. That job was his life till he was on his deathbed. I don't want to live that way, no one should."

Sam gave another shake of his head, seeming to be having a mental struggle with himself. He wasn’t happy with the results he was getting from this conversation, he didn’t want to tiptoe anymore, “How do you know Natasha Romanoff? You two seem rather acquainted.”

There was no point in covering that secret up, she knew he had listened to her conversation earlier, “She’s my boss.”

Sam’s brows raised, eyes glazing at the multiple possibilities of her position with the ex-spy, “For?”

Rose clenched her jaw, her fingers aching from her grip along the countertop, “I work at the club when she needs someone. Speaking of which, I need to get my afternoon nap in before it’s too late and I get no sleep for the next 8 hours so if this interrogation is over then you can get the fuck out of my apartment.”

A deep rumble released from Sam’s chest, the closest noise to a laugh she’d probably hear from him, “I see why he wants you so much now.”

“Because he’s a controlling asshole who can’t take no for an answer? Because he can’t accept the fact that someone is happy and he isn’t? The list I assure you goes on for a very long time.”

Sam released another attempt at a chuckle from the venomous sting you leave in your words, “In a way yes. You challenge him to the point it drives him crazy. That sort of feeling becomes addictive to someone like him. Better watch yourself."

"He'll learn to sober up."

Sam had finished his drink by now, delicately placing the glass besides yours on the counter.

"I meant it when I said watch yourself Rose. James is a man you don't want to toy with. He doesn't discriminate against women, Natasha knows that from experience. You don't want to be next."

If that wasn't a threat then Rose didn't know what was, "It's not polite to threaten a woman Mr. Wilson."

"Then it's a good thing you're no ordinary woman."

Rose could see Natasha was on edge when she found her inside the club dressing room, watching protectively from the doorway. It took the impossible to bother Natasha but something had scared her. Or someone.

"He doesn't discriminate against women, Natasha knows that from experience."

Rose could only imagine what he could've done to cause such an effect on her. She struggled to pull away from the image of Natasha getting her face bashed in, blood pooling from her broken nose and eye socket.

The hand on her, rubbed fondly against the top of her thigh as she rested in her companion's lap, enjoying a glass of champagne as she listened to him talk. His sokovian accented voice was pleasant to her ears, complimenting her whenever the chance was given.

"You seem so miserable here, let me take you away my darling. I can cherish you the way you deserve."

Helmut Zemo, a brilliant and very rich nobleman. Known for being the son of Heinrich Zemo, the man who aided the enemy of the war. He was one of Rose's first returning clients, gifting her with many beautiful pieces of jewelry whenever he paid a visit. One of the few she tolerated, dare even say was fond of.

"Oh don't tease me Zemo, it's too cruel." Rose patted a hand on his chest, shifting on his lap as his arm tightened on her.

"You know I don't tease when I'm with you. I mean every word. Please, let me take care of you." Zemo's fingers danced along the sapphire necklace he bought that adorned Rose's neck as he gazed up at her. His eyes held truth and affection.

The offer was more than tempting if not for her morals. To live in a life of luxury and carefree moments filled with expensive drinks and clothes. But he was still a bad man, one who’s had his fair share of crimes and far from who Rose would ever become.

“Zemo-”

The bang of the main door opening startled her, shattering the glass onto the decorative carpet, and the men around her forced the room to go abruptly silent. Eyes followed each other to land on an angry James Barnes. Jaw tensed, fist white and bruised darkly along the knuckles. His face was lined with the same color, traveling from his eye to his cheek.

"What the fuck you all looking at?!" He growled, slamming a fist along the bar counter.

Everyone's attention turned back to their company, not daring to take another glance at the ex super soldier. Rose however remained her eyes on him as he slowly became aware she was among the crowd but he didn't move from his seat. He just stared mindlessly at her. So Rose had an idea. A very dangerous one.

She turned back to Zemo who sat unamused by the angered display, her lips brushing his ear, "Tell me my love, if I agreed to go with you tonight, how would you spoil me?"

She felt him shiver under her touch as she placed kisses along the curve of his neck down to his collarbone. The pulse of his vein quickened beneath her lips,

"First I'd take you back to Sokovia, show you around your new home." His voice was almost completely steady if the edge that laced it didn’t completely give away that he was internally unwinding at her touch.

Her eyes trailed back up to James over Zemo's shoulder as she kissed back up to his ear, "And then? I need a little more convincing than that."

The mindless staring was morphing into possessive jealousy, his breathing had picked up again in an animalistic pant as he watched her challenge him. She was surprised that the glass in his hand hadn’t completely shattered beneath the death grip he held.

Zemo caught the bottom of her chin, pulling her face to line up with his, "And then I'll give you the world. Anything you want you shall have it. My life, my money and myself is yours, just say the words my darling."

Rose was internally screaming. How come it's the bad ones that are so charming?

The sound of a gun clicking next to her head broke her out of the fogged daze that was beginning to consume her, "Over your dead body pal."

There he was in all his glory, the rotten beast she was after. Rose internally smirked at the animalistic dominance he was radiating. His body ready to pounce what he viewed as the weaker link to the mate he desired to have. How calm he appeared but eyes screaming, daring for him to make an attempt at taking her.

Zemo’s composure didn’t falter, calm and collected with a hint of polite sarcasm lacing his tone, "There's no need to be impolite, friend."

The glint of the metal shined out of the corner of her eye. The hand hidden besides her leg was locked and loaded, aimed for James's looming figure. This incident gave him an excuse to kill James Barnes right there. One of the leading men that aided in killing his father during the war. Steve Rogers was more so his main target but he was willing to be a step ahead and take one over nothing right then and there.

Not wanting a mess on everyone's hand, especially her own, she didn’t need another table full of reports to fill out on her hands. So, Rose placed a hand against Zemo's chest grabbing his attention with a soft smile, "It's alright Zemo, I'll see you when you get back from Sokovia."

Zemo nodded in understanding, placing a delicate kiss to the back of her hand as she stood from his lap, "Till then my darling."

Her focus shifted to James, her eyes screaming angrily to follow her and for once he did it with no further complaint, not to her at least. Just a wave of his gun and a snippy comment in a language she wasn’t familiar with. Zemo sent back a hasty response earning only a snicker from James.

The remnants of her glass crunched beneath her heels, the sound tingled her senses, becoming more aware of the man following behind her. How he hovered over her protectively, hiding her from the eyes that dared to follow them. The vibranium hand rested along her back, the cold vibrations traveling up her spine to the back of her head causing a slight chatter on her teeth. How he could deal with the constant hum against him without issue baffled her. Must’ve taken a long time to grow used to.

Rose twirled around in her heels to face him. Never keep your back to a predator, stay calm and watch without eye contact. She held an irritable but playful smirk, noticing he never left more than a foot of room between them, his body towering over her’s, "So why all the fuss? Don't get me wrong, that little show was cute but very unnecessary. All you had to say was please."

His hands dragged up her arms, nails gliding against her skin leaving goosebumps in their path, "It's like coming home from a bad day of work to find your wife fucking the pool boy. I don't like to share my toys."

The sensation brought that emotion she passionately hated back. The one she only had with him. It was desireful, dangerous and greedy. She wanted him to explore the crevices of her but beat the cocky smirk off his face at the same time. Watch him bleed like he did to Natasha, like he wanted to do to the real Rose. A sensational gory battle that she couldn’t win.

Her eyes dared to meet his, uncertainty caving in as her body was reacting to him against her wishes, "Thankfully I'm no toy, especially not yours Mr. Barnes ."

He bit his lip as she rolled his name from her spiteful tongue. He wanted to nip at it till it bled, taste the iron as he devoured every part of her. The thought was both blissful and enraging, "See, that's where you're wrong doll."

He didn’t need to hold her in place as he nudged her nose with his lips, teasing her’s with a simple brush. He knew he had her. She could deny and hide behind a confident cover all she wanted to but he knew the truth. By the way she sensed his presence in the room without needing to look. How captivating he was to her despite his cocky demeanor. How her breath hitched as his teeth dug into her bottom lip while his eyes pierced into her, watching the barrier she built crumble in her hands.

“You’ve been mine since you walked into the room that night and there’s not a single person who will tell me otherwise. You’re caving beneath my touch as we speak. You’ve lost. Now all you have to do is completely give in.”

Rose felt like she was slowly drowning. James’s hands pulling her further and further under the shimmering surface as all the air within her vanished, bubbling above her. Words barely formed as his nips trailed down her collarbone, his hand gripping possessively at her throat, gently squeezing at her quiet response, “Never.”

A dark chuckle left his lips, “But you already have.”

Part 8

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agoldengalaxy · 3 years

Text

Fun, Indeed

read on Ao3

“Every time I begin to think you actually have a brain in that head of yours,” he sighed, placing a hand on the small of Mobius’ back, guiding him to walk down the beach a little. “That...is why we are here.” He gestured to a small dock, to the place where it met the sand. An old man sat in a folding chair, a hat covering his face, and at the end of the dock was a striking, brightly painted red jet ski.

Mobius blinked a couple of times, attempting to process the information. “So let me get this straight,” he said, unable to look away from it, “you brought me to 2036 to steal some poor man’s jet ski?”

“Mobius. Oh, come on. Wake up.”

Somewhere in his subconscious, the TVA agent could recognize that annoying, hushed voice anywhere. He groaned, burrowing further into his pillow. And then something soft hit him in the face. He had a feeling that the God of Mischief wasn’t planning on leaving him alone anytime soon, so he groaned again. “What d’ya want, Loki?” he mumbled, opening one eye as whatever had hit him before was lifted from his face.

Loki stood over his bed, a huge grin on his face, still holding a pillow with the letters ‘TVA’ inscribed across it. “I want to show you something.”

Sighing, Mobius rolled onto his back, running a hand over his face. “And it was so urgent that you had to wake me up for it?” The TVA didn’t allow much time for rest; he supposed he should have expected his rest would be cut short by the man he was so often in charge of babysitting.

Not unlike a child, the other frowned, tossing the pillow onto his chest. “Yes. It has to be now. Come on, I don’t want your colleagues to be on my back again.”

“What did you do?” It was his first thought, and he didn’t feel the need to keep it to himself as he begrudgingly pushed himself to sit up, throwing the pillow back at him. “And how did you get in my room?” He was surprised, but then again, should he have been? Even without magic, Loki always found a way. Sometimes it was a good thing, and other times it was just aggravating. And yet, more often than not, it was endearing all the same.

“I beg your pardon, Mobius. You ought to have more faith in me. I didn’t ‘do’ anything.” Feigning hurt, Loki huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The way his eyebrows knit together was a common expression these days, and yet Mobius found himself still unable to look away. It was replaced with a sly grin. To answer your second question, you left your door unlocked. Perhaps you are going senile.”

Mobius groaned, putting his face in his hands. “Don’t talk to me about getting old. You’re thousands of years old. I’m only fifty.”

“And that’s half of a mortal’s lifespan. Your point?”

Getting to his feet, Mobius waved a hand dismissively, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Alright, wise guy. You woke me up, so I’m the one asking questions. What is it you wanted to show me?”

Loki, seemingly pleased that Mobius had finally gotten out of bed, grinned and headed toward the door. “Look, we don’t have much time. You know how we can do anything we want, anything at all, and it’s of no consequence so long as a natural disaster occurs?”

“Right…” He already felt wary, not liking the excitement Loki was expressing as they left the room.

“I know you just hate breaking the rules, but I think you’ll want to make an exception this time.” Now Mobius really didn’t like the sound of that, but he also knew that whether or not he followed, Loki was probably going to keep going - or come back to drag him to wherever he was going. “Just trust me.”

Mobius couldn’t help but laugh at that. Whether it was sarcastic or not, though, he couldn’t tell. “Trust you? That’s funny.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a smirk tug at the corner of Loki’s lips. “Come now, Mobius, after all we’ve been through together? I’m trying to do something kind for once.”

And he couldn’t help but smile, too, though he hid it by ducking his head a little. “That doesn’t exactly reassure me, you know. Your version of ‘kind’ is different from most.” They reached a shimmering door, presumably left open by Loki when he’d come to wake Mobius. Loki didn’t bother waiting, just smiling a little more as he stepped through the doorway, leaving Mobius no choice but to follow him.

His shoes began sinking, and he looked down in surprise to find sand beneath him, sparkling in the sun. Brows furrowed, the sound of crashing waves surrounded him, and looking up confirmed it. The ocean’s waves weren’t very big, and the sun shone a light orange, dipping toward the horizon, bathing the beach in a warm glow. The beach was only home to a couple of people at the moment, and Mobius frowned as his eyes scanned the beach. “Is this…?”

“Japan, 2036,” Loki finished his thought, glancing down at the TVA bracelet around his wrist. “And if I’m correct, in about an hour, there will be a tsunami that will wipe out this town.” He let his arm return to his side then, looking over at Mobius, barely containing a grin.

The agent sighed, still unsure of where he was going with this. “...Okay. And why are we here, Loki?”

Loki rolled his eyes, taking him by the shoulders to make him look at him instead. “Oh come now, Mobius. You’ve always wanted to, haven’t you? Remember, none of this matters! They’re all going to die anyway, you can afford to have some fun without the TVA breathing down your back.” He leaned back, smirking as he folded his arms over his chest. “Or do you not know how?”

Putting aside the fact that every instinct in his body told him to say no, to drag Loki back to the TVA and continue with his work, one thing stuck out to him. Loki remembered. Loki remembered how much he admired jet skis, how he had never been on one but loved how they looked. And...no one had ever done anything so kind for him before. He never would have expected it from the God of Mischief.

Before he knew it, he was smiling a little, and he had to look away, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Alright, alright. Jeez. Only for a little while.” While Loki grinned, Mobius turned and began walking toward the dock, shrugging off his blazer. His heart pounded, though he wasn’t quite certain if it was due to the thrill of doing something wrong, or something else entirely. He was careful to be quiet as he walked past the owner of the jet ski, who didn’t move at all as they passed by.

“Oh dear. Is he dead already?” Loki whispered, and Mobius laughed, hitting his arm.

“Shut up.” Leaving the blazer and his shoes on the dock, pants cuffed below the knee, he climbed aboard the jet ski, admiring the details. Loki stood on the dock, looking down at him, smiling, genuinely. Mobius raised a brow. “Are you coming?”

The smile faltered for a moment, replaced with slight amused confusion. “You want me to come with you?”

Mobius almost burst out laughing, but he settled on an eye roll instead. “Every time I begin to think you actually have a brain in that head of yours,” he teased, mocking him. “C’mon, Loki. You brought me here. Don’t tell me you’re scared now.”

“What, me? Absolutely not,” Loki scoffed, but Mobius didn’t miss the smile that returned as he shrugged off his own jacket, stepping down to sit behind him. Mobius did his best to ignore just how close he was as he started the engine, untying the rope.

Excitement buzzed through him, making it easy to focus on the water rather than the man behind him. “Alright. Here we go!” Revving the engine, he took a deep breath, grinning, and hit the gas. He started out slow, but as he moved past the larger waves, he increased the speed. Loki’s arms came around to embrace him, holding onto him tightly, keeping him from falling off.

“I suppose you do know how to have fun, after all!”

Mobius was pretty sure his heart stopped for a moment, and so he focused on driving, on the wind that whipped at his hair, the cold water splashing up against his legs. “Of course I do!” He could barely hear Loki, but he felt the way his chest rumbled against his back as he laughed. And Mobius couldn’t help but laugh, too.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so alive.

There was no telling how much time had really passed, but as clouds began setting in, Mobius slowed down, directing the jet ski toward the dock again. His cheeks hurt from smiling, he was out of breath, and he could feel Loki’s breath on the back of his neck, too. As he tied the jet ski up again, Loki slowly removed his arms from around his torso, getting up onto the dock carefully. When he turned around, he was grinning.

“See? Causing trouble isn’t so bad, is it?” He offered Mobius a hand, and he hesitantly took it, letting Loki pull him up onto the dock. The God’s dark hair was windswept, and his eyes were bright. Mobius’ heart lurched as they both knelt on the wood, inches from each other. He swallowed and opened his mouth to respond when he was suddenly shoved, pushed off of the dock with a small yelp. The water engulfed him, colder than he was expecting, and he pulled himself to the surface with a gasp, only to hear Loki laughing loudly. “Oh! You should have seen your face!”

Mobius frowned, up at him as he tread water, shaking his head. “I thought you wanted to have fun. This is not fun.”

At that, Loki grinned, kneeling down to reach for him again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m having lots of fun.” Frowning, Mobius reached up for Loki’s hand - and in a brief moment, barely without thinking, he pulled Loki into the water beside him. Shock was the last thing etched upon his face before the splash took him downward, letting go of the other’s hand. A moment passed, and he surfaced again, pushing wet hair out of his eyes with an annoyed frown.

“And now I’m having fun,” Mobius said smugly, and Loki blew out a long breath.

“Hmph. I suppose I deserved that.”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

They knew not to stay too much longer. After all, the last thing they needed was to be caught in the tsunami, so they both swam over to the sand. Crawling onto land again, Mobius let out a long sigh, flopping onto his back for a moment. Loki did the same, not too far away from him, so they could both catch their breath.

The sand was warm on his back, which was appreciated after the cool of the water. He stared at the cloudy sky for a moment, then glanced at Loki, whose chest was rising and falling steadily now. “Hey.”

“What is it?” Loki turned his head to meet his gaze, raising a brow.

“...Thank you. For this.” He didn’t miss the surprise on Loki’s face, but he turned his head to look back up at the sky, suddenly unable to really look at him. “I’ve never really had any time for myself before. The TVA doesn’t leave much time for leisure. This is…” he chuckled. “This is probably the most fun I’ve ever had.”

There was quiet for a moment, and he was aware of Loki staring at him, so he pressed his lips together, turning to look at him. The other’s eyes were soft, and he was smiling a little. “Well, I am the God of Mischief, after all.” A beat. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Mobius’ heart beating hard in his chest. For a moment, he wondered if Loki had somehow put a spell on him. Suddenly, Loki propped himself up on an elbow, hovering right above the agent. Mobius was paralyzed.

Before he knew it, his face was being held by calloused hands, rough lips pressed against his own. He tensed, every inch of his body going rigid, because Loki Laufeyson was kissing him. After a moment, though, he realized he had two options; push him away, or kiss back. And...the choice was clear.

Closing his eyes, he reached up, placing his arms around his neck, and kissed back. He could feel Loki smile a little. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but it wasn’t too rough. It was perfect. It wasn’t unlike stories Mobius had read a long time ago, of fairy tales that were meant for children.

They probably could have stayed there all day if it weren’t for a large wave that crashed nearby, spraying them yet again with cold water. Loki pulled away, looking down at Mobius with a grin, water droplets dripping from his hair. “Fun indeed,” he purred, making Mobius turn bright red. Loki stood up, dusting himself off, and green engulfed him for just a split second, drying him completely. He turned to Mobius, who was still lying dazedly in the sand, and flicked a hand, using magic to dry his clothes, too. With that, he bent down, taking his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “We can’t stay here. Perhaps we ought to finish this somewhere else.”

People were running now. The tsunami was certainly on its way. Loki didn’t let go of his hand, and Mobius struggled to articulate, a dumb grin on his face. He couldn’t believe this. “Y-Yeah. Yeah. Perhaps we should.”

Laughing lowly, Loki opened a portal back to the TVA, and together, they headed back to Mobius’ room for the fun to continue.

#marvel #mcu #loki laufeyson #mobius m mobius #lokius #loki show #wowki #why do I love them so much already #god #mobius believes in loki so hard #okay anyway enjoy im trash #agoldengalaxy #my writing #my post

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wherethewordsare · 4 years

Text

Before and After the Battle

Hi all, I really want to give a special thanks to @frostedbasilisk for not only inspiring me to write this but giving me permission to write a companion piece to this piece of artwork they did. I can only hope I did it justice! Also thanks @lesdemonium for letting me soundboard. I am sorry for yelling randomly at you <3 <3 <3

cw: blood and cursing and so so much bickering. Story under the cut because I can’t have a normal brain that keeps shit under 1k. This ended up being 1.5... @theamazingbard <_<

“You’re going to be late for your contract,” Jaskier hummed, pressing his lips to Geralt’s jaw. He finished fastening his cuirass and tucked a loose hair behind his ear. It had become a kind of dance they did these days. Jaskier would make a comment as though monster hunting were just another day in another profession and Geralt would kiss him and huff.

“Monsters don’t exactly run on set schedules,” But he would lean up from where he was sitting on the bed, pulling Jaskier closer to him with that secret smile that he saved just for these kinds of days.

Neither of them were quick to admit how much they had come to need those moments; moments where Jaskier could feel like even something as small as adjusting Geralt’s armor straps or tying back his hair in a way that would keep his eyes clear would keep him safe; moments where Geralt could remind himself that there was a home with a beating heart waiting for him when the job was finished. But the unspoken agreement was that it remained just that, unspoken, though Jaskier could admit to the increasing frequency where there were more words on his lips than he thought his witcher would want to hear. He knew better than to let them linger there, should they slip out so instead he rested his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and kissed him soundly, hoping that maybe he would still understand.

“Come back, you big oaf, or I’ll be very cross with you,” He murmured with a soft chuckle.

“Don’t I always?”

“In one piece,” Jaskier pulled back, frowning though the mischief in his eyes spoiled the effect.

“Hmm,” Geralt leaned down, nipping at Jaskier’s collarbone. “You drive a hard bargain, but fair. Alright, one piece.”

The easy way they teased always felt like a balm against the anxiety that came along with the bigger contracts. A griffin in the narrow mountain pass by the village that had put up the contract felt like one of those. All Jaskier could do was sit and wait and play to fill their coin purse and wait. The first five days weren’t so bad. The next three had him pacing their room, his fingers itching for a pen, his lute, the hilt of his dagger, anything that would take the nervous energy that was starting to build up in his chest.

He couldn’t take it any longer. Jaskier slung his lute over his back and sheeted his dagger into his boot. He grabbed the pack with the extra witcher potions and bandages as well and made his way out of town. Geralt could be angry at him if he was alive, but otherwise he could keep his grumbling to himself.

He found the dead beast first, it’s throat slit nearly through, feathers and blood everywhere. There was so much blood, Jaskier’s stomach turned as he took in the places it pooled. It hadn’t been recently.

He spun on his heels, searching around for any sign at all of Geralt. His eyes landed on a smear of blood against the stones, sliding away from the carcass. He moved along the rock face, moving steadily. His foot hit against something metal and he looked down to find Geralt’s medallion. The chain was broken, and there was blood caked into the embossed wolf’s head.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s panic finally flooded out of his throat and he hurried along the path until he came across a small outcropping. He froze in his tracks, trying to gulp down breath. A tattered boot stuck out of the small crevice. “Geralt!”

He stumbled as he rushed forward, finding his witcher in near tatters, tucked into a sliver of an opening in the side of the rock. “One piece, remember, Geralt? I told you! I said come back in one piece and you agreed!” Jaskier babbled as he slung off the pack, panting slightly. There was blood everywhere and though it looked as though most of the wounds in Geralt’s chest were healing with the help of his mutations, everything still looked bad.

“Jas?” Geralt tried to sit up, his hands fumbling out for Jaskier’s. “Jas, wh-” he swallowed thickly. Jaskier set aside the bandages and potions and took out the waterskin, pressing it to Geralt’s lips.

“Not now, dear heart, I am trying to be very cross with you like I promised because one of us has to keep up our end of the bargain.”

Geralt swallowed the water that was given to him and choked for a moment. He sat up a bit more and Jaskier rushed forward on his knees as he nearly fell forward. Over his shoulder, Jaskier could see more tattered armor and skin, angry welts and skin still stitching itself together across Geralt’s shoulder blades and the back of his bicep.

“Jaskier, it hurts.” Geralt murmured, pressing his face into Jaskier’s neck, his uninjured arm wrapping awkwardly around his waist.

“I know. I know it does, darling. It’ll be alright” for a moment he simply carded his fingers through Geralt’s hair and held on. “Lay back for me and we’ll get you sorted. Where are the potions you had?” Jaskier started going through the pack he brought, pulling out the potions he knew would speed along Geralt’s recovery. He should have brought Roach. They’d have to make camp not a dozen yards from that rotting beast and it was bound to attract trouble.

“Used or smashed, damn thing grabbed me then dropped me.” Geralt gulped down the Swallow Jaskier pressed to his lips, his nose scrunching at the taste. “Gods can’t they make it not taste like shit?”

“No, now drink.” Jaskier hummed brightly.

“Ass,” Geralt growled but there was no heat to it.

Jaskier was about to lob his own insult back at him but then their eyes met and what ever he was going to say died on his tongue. Geralt’s eyes were clearer and he was grinning up at Jaskier with a challenge but his eyes… oh. His eyes were so fond and something like an explosion went off in Jaskier’s chest.

Oh.

“Jaskier,” Geralt caught his wrist as he was packing back up the supplies, pulling it to his chest.

“No,” Jaskier said flatly but he let Geralt keep hold of his wrist.

“I… what?” Geralt frowned from where he lay, still dazed and too pale, even for Geralt’s standards.

“No. No you absolute bastard! I will kill you myself. You hold that thought till your skin isn’t just one big tattered mess and you’re not buzzed out on witcher potions. Then we’ll talk,” Jaskier huffed. He rolled Geralt gently to his side, definitely not to avoid looking at him and reached for the needle and thread. “This one is going to need stitches. There’s nothing for it. It’s deep, even for your potions.”

“Really leaning into that being mad at me, huh, lark?” Geralt had the nerve to chuckle but winced as it jolted his ribs.

“Cheeky shit, watch that I don’t sew your mouth up next,” he hummed casually. He set to work his task, feeling somewhat more sure of himself without Geralt making those eyes at him.

“Hmm…”

By some unseen blessing of the gods, Jaskier managed to get Geralt back to the village before sundown and into bed. They slept curled around one another well into the next morning, Jaskier pressed against Geralt’s back, his arm around his waist as he slept. He pressed his forehead against the space between Geralt’s shoulder blades, kissing his scars gently, their legs tangled.

“I’m sorry I was cross with you,” Jaskier whispered as midmorning light fell across them.

Geralt rolled, untangling them gently before tangling them again this time, Jaskier’s face tucked into his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to stay in one piece, thought to be fair, the griffin just wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain it to him.”

“Showed him, didn’t you?” he sighed, burrowing in closer, taking in the warmth from Geralt’s body pressed in a firm line against his.

“But, I am no longer a tattered mess or buzzing on witcher potions,” Geralt said softly into Jaskier’s hair.

“Geralt…” Jaskier whined. Strong fingers wound into his hair, guiding his head back until lips were pressing against his, firm but gentle. There was no demand in the kiss, just grounding surety of what came next.

“Oh no, a deal is a deal,” Geralt grinned, his fingers running down Jaskier’s spine. He had to have been able to feel Jaskier’s heart jackrabbitting between them. “I love you and I should have said it sooner. I love you and it shouldn’t have taken a fucking griffin nearly killing me to find the ner-”

Jaskier cut him off with a rough kiss, a gurgling kind of laugh bubbling in his chest as he pressed Geralt back down into the mattress. “Of course I love you too, you absolute fool.”

Of course, both thought they were getting the better end of that particular deal.

---

Tag list as stands <3: @jaskierswolf @geraskier-trashh @electricrituals @elliestormfound @artistsfuneral @thetinymm @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms

#geraskier #sorta established relationship #monster hunting #cw: blood #cw: medical treatment #love confessions #bickering #hurt/comfort #the witcher #witcher #long fic #fic based off art #frostedbasilisk #jay writes

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waywardodysseys · 4 years

Text

Finders Keepers - Oneshot

gif by @rainbowkisses31

Pairing: Chris Evans x female reader

Warnings: fluff, SMUT, oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), beard burn, cussing

~ ~ ~

The smell of tomato, basil, oregano, and garlic fill the expansive kitchen as you stir the homemade sauce for the made from scratch meatballs you made earlier in the day. Being stuck in quarantine had made your inner Julia Child explode. It didn’t help your boyfriend encouraged you to cook more often especially when he loved devouring the homemade meals you made for him when he returned from being away from work for long periods of time, walking the halls of D.C., or stuck doing press tours for upcoming projects.

A happy bark and the click clack of toenails against the hardwood floor break through the quietness. You turn and look towards the living room. Chris is walking towards you in jeans and a red-black flannel shirt. You can’t help but smile and shake your head.

“What?” Comes Chris’ snarky yet kind remark as he closes the distance between the two of you.

You run your hand over the buzz cut he’s given himself. “I can’t believe you decided to cut it.”

Chris shrugs his shoulders, “I had nothing else to do.”

Dodger sits on the floor, moving his head back and forth as he keeps his eyes on the two of you.

You hum as you face the stove. You check the display, noting you must place the meatballs in the sauce in ten minutes. You feel Chris’ arms wrap around you and his rough beard scrape you neck.

“Chris,” you ground out as his teeth nip at your skin.

“Y/N,” Chris whispers in his smooth baritone voice.

Shivers run down your spine as his hands dip under your shirt and stroke your skin. Your body hums as his hands move up your stomach and cup your breasts. He squeezes them lightly as he grinds himself against your ass.

You moan lightly as you feel his hardness. You try to keep your focus on stirring the sauce.

“Please tell me we have time,” Chris moans.

“We have plenty,” you pause, “later.”

Chris sighs heavily, “I guess I should do the vid for Save with Stories. Get it over with.”

You smile, “know what book you’re going to read?”

“If You Give A Dog A Donut,” Chris replies, “Dodger needs to stay in here with you.”

“I know. You know he and I get along great. Even greater than you and I.”

Chris grazes your skin with his teeth, “hey now.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at his sarcasm.

Chris removes his hands from your body then kisses your neck gently. His beard scrapes your delicate skin which sends a heatwave through your body.

“You should go,” you squeak out, “before we do something, forget dinner, and burn the house down.”

Chris chuckles lowly as he smacks your ass playfully. “I’ll be back in a few.”

You hear him shuffle away then his soft whisper to Dodger “stay here with her. Protect her Dodgy. She’s important to us both.”

From the corner of your eye you watch Dodger lower himself to the floor. He crosses his front two paws and looks up at you.

“Good boy,” Chris whispers.

You shake your head and smile as you hear Chris walk out of the kitchen to somewhere else in the house.

-------

Hours later, after dinner and approving one of Chris’ umpteenth takes on his book reading, you are sitting in an oversized chair when the doorbell rings.

Dodger removes himself from beside your chair and walks to the door with Chris.

“Thank you,” you hear Chris’ voice state as sounds of bags make their way to your ears.

Chris had said he was overseeing dessert earlier in the afternoon. You wondered what he had delivered because there was ice cream in the freezer and brownie mixes in the pantry. Your mind tries to think about what day it is because with the quarantine they’ve seemed to all run together.

It’s neither of your birthdays, nor Dodger’s. You know it’s not an anniversary either. It’s the end of March. What could possibly be at the end of March?

Then it hits you like a runaway freight train.

Two years ago, you had been sitting outside the Martha-Mary Chapel on the Longfellow’s Wayside Inn estate in a bubblegum pink bridesmaid’s dress when a plate was placed in front of your face. You had looked up and into Chris’ blue eyes.

“My mother has always advised me to never take cake from strangers,” your voice had a hint of sadness yet bewilderment to it.

“This is,” Chris had said, “the best chocolatiest cake in the entire world. The frosting alone,” Chris had done a chef’s kiss motion with the sound, “perfection. Try it.”

“Why me?” You had asked with a raised eyebrow as you took the plate and one of the two forks he had.

Chris had taken a seat beside you. His body was warm, and you had burrowed into it because of the night chill.

“Everyone here is all smiles except you.”

“I was smiles earlier.” You had retorted with sarcasm before taking your first bite.

Oh, my fucking word, your mind had thought as you tasted the most meltingly delicious chocolatiest cake of your entire life.

“For the ceremony, pictures. Yes.” Chris had remarked. “Talk to me.”

You knew who he was, knew he was a friend of the groom. You were related to the bride.

You had shrugged, taken another bite. “I’ve been in three weddings in the last ten months. Will be in two more. One I am the maid of honor, wedding of my best friend. Probably the only one I’m happy for. I mean, I am happy for them all, but you know,” you had shrugged, “I haven’t been as lucky as the couples.”

“Love is hard. Finding it, keeping it. Making it thrive.” Chris had implied as he looked at you with a sly grin.

A month later after that night, you and Chris had become official.

You now watch as Chris walks into the living room. Dodger walking beside him slowly. The wide brown eyes looking between his dad and you.

“Sit at her feet,” Chris whispers as he finally stands in front of you.

Your eyes move between the human and the animal. Your heart quickens as Dodger sits then Chris kneels in front of you.

He holds out a plate big enough for two pieces of cake from Longview but only one is on the plate along with the words “will you marry me” handwritten in chocolate sauce.

“You know I like to celebrate the night we met, because it changed my life and I know it changed yours too. We found love together. We’ve made it thrive. We’ve kept it strong through the battles we’ve encountered. I want to keep our love thriving. Finders, keepers,” Chris glees as love makes his eyes twinkle.

As if on cue, Dodger raises a paw and places it on your lap. Tied lightly to his paw is a bubblegum pink ribbon which is holding a princess cut ring in place.

“Dodger wants you to be here forever too,” Chris whispers as he hands you the plate then unties the ribbon.

When the ring is free from Dodger’s paw and the ribbon, Chris cups your cheek and strokes your skin softly. You wouldn’t trade this man for any other in the world. He was right.

You and he found love with one another. The two of you made it thrive and survive with his busy work schedule and your fast pace career. You and he weathered battles together and always won.

“Marry me Y/N,” Chris whispers as he looks into your eyes.

You see the gleam of the love, and the forever he’s promising you.

You smile brightly, “yes.”

Chris smiles widely as he chokes back the tears. He reaches down and grabs your left hand. He slides the platinum band on your left fourth finger as you lean over and press your mouth against his.

Minutes later you pull faintly away from Chris, both of you breathless and filled with loved for one another. You wanted him; you didn’t care for the dessert you held in your hand.

“Chris,” you sigh happily, “I’d rather have you now then dessert.”

Chris grins as he stands and holds out his hand, “I see no harm in giving my fiancée what she wants.”

Fiancée, you think. You never thought about finding and keeping love until Chris walked into your life. Part of you grateful he liked celebrating the night you two met.

You hold onto Chris’s hand as he walks back through the kitchen, takes the plate from your hand and sets it inside of the fridge. The both of you move towards the bedroom.

Chris wraps you in his arms as he kicks Dodger’s lion out of the room and into the hallway then closes the door. Chris kisses you deeply as your hands travel up his arms and across his broad shoulders.

You place your hands on the back of his neck and pull away. You look into his blue eyes and smile. You then run a hand over his buzz cut. You like the short hair yet preferred it slightly longer so you could run your fingers through it.

“It’ll grow back,” Chris whispers.

“I know,” you whisper in return, “I’m soaking you in under a new light. Fiancé.”

Chris chuckles low in his chest, “wait till it’s husband. Missus future Evans. Future wife.”

You sweep your lips against Chris’, “well mister Evans, I want my dessert,” you roam your hands down the flannel shirt he is wearing and begin unbuttoning it, “and you are it.”

“You’re mine,” Chris growls as his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants.

He pushes his hand into your pants and palms your core. His fingers tease your folds as your fingers move quickly to open his flannel shirt, exposing his skin to your eyes and touch.

You move your hands up his muscular abdomen and chest. His skin is soft yet warm. You enjoyed burrowing into him on cold nights during a Massachusetts winter. He’d wrap his arms around you and hold you close. You’d inhale the cedar and lemon smell of his cologne, and know you were loved and at home.

You moan lowly as your body begins to hum with pleasure and consumed with heat. You walk Chris back towards the bed, making him remove his hand from your core. You push the flannel shirt off him then push him down on the mattress.

You straddle him and place kisses along his neck then across his collarbone. You move your mouth slowly down his chest and stomach. Your fingers fumbling with his pants. After getting them undone, you reach in with one hand and find him hard. You stroke him slowly, making sure you tease the tip with your thumb.

“Fu—mmm,” Chris moans as he feels your hand wrap around his cock.

You push down his pants, with his help, and reveal his lengthy and girthy cock to your eyes. You moan lowly in your chest before dipping your head and wrapping your lips around the tip. You swirl your tongue around rapidly as you let one hand stroke the rest of his length.

Chris’ hands move through your hair as his orgasm rises inside of him. He inhales a sharp breath as you move your mouth down his length slowly. Once your mouth hits the base you move your mouth back up his length, your salvia lathering him.

Chris’ low moans and slight pull on your hair encourages you to reach up and cup his balls. Your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock then you lick his entire length slowly up and down.

“Y/N,” Chris moans as his body ramps up on pleasure and his orgasm increases its buildup.

You lower your mouth onto his cock and bob your head up and down a few more times before you release it. You kiss your way back up his stomach and chest. You nip teasingly at his neck as his hands find their way under your shirt and onto your skin.

Chris places a finger under your chin, making you look at him. He grins as he lightly places a kiss on your lips then uses the strength he has to flip you onto your back.

You sit up for a second while Chris removes his pants. You discard your top and bra as well as wiggling out of your pants and underwear. You lick your lips as Chris returns to the bed and moans loudly at your naked body.

Chris runs a hand down your body and finds your core. You’re hot and wet. He grins against your skin as he hears a moan vibrate in your chest.

“Chris,” you sigh as pleasure seeps into your body.

Chris grazes his beard roughly against your flesh as be begins moving his mouth down your body. He knows the gratification you get from feeling the prickliness of hairs against your skin, he knows you like the burn marks his beard leaves on your skin.

Chris flicks one nipple as he moves a finger along your folds. His tongue swirls teasingly around the bud as his thumb grazes your clit.

“Fuuu—mmm,” you pant breathlessly. You need his tongue on your sensitive nub, you need to his beard against your sensitive flesh.

Chris flicks the other nipple before he continues moving his mouth down your stomach, making sure his beard grazes your skin roughly, sending your body further into the depths of fulfillment.

“Chris, please,” you plead in a whisper.

Chris dips his head between your legs and uses his fingers to open your folds. He moans inwardly at seeing your wetness and knowing how sweet you taste. Chris runs his tongue up your sensitive folds and swirls his tongue around your clit.

Your hands grasp the sheets under your body as you feel Chris’ tongue against your sensitive nub. You moan loudly as you feel his beard against the sensitive skin of your folds. He knows to pleasure you with both his tongue and beard against your most sensitive area.

You roll your hips lightly increasing the pleasure both his tongue and beard. Your orgasm rising inside of steadily as you feel euphoric in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you whisper in a pant, “Chris!”

Your orgasm is cresting, and you move one hand to his head. The prickliness from his buzz cut adds to the pleasure and sends your body into overdrive – your orgasm crashes inside of you making your body tremble.

“Chris!” You breathlessly pant as you let the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through your body.

Chris hums as he kisses your inner thighs. He scrapes his beard against your flesh.

Your fingers grasp the sheets as his beard sends goosebumps over your skin. You look down at him and see his trademark smirk.

“Yes?”

Your body is on a high from your orgasm and you need Chris inside of you more than ever. “I need you inside of me.”

Chris kneels between your open legs, “anything for you.”

He takes his hard cock and strokes your sensitive folds. When he hears your low moan he sinks himself slowly inside of you, making sure you feel every inch of him as he claims you again yet this time you are his fiancée, the forever love he’s been looking for his entire life.

Your breathing has increased as you feel Chris’ cock stretch you. Your slick walls wrap around him tightly as he lowers all of himself inside of your warmth and wetness.

Chris hisses as he feels your slick walls clutch his cock. You’re tight as glove around him as his entire length is buried deep inside of your depths. He feels your hands roam up his chest and land on his shoulders. He feels the light squeeze you give him – an encouragement for him to begin thrusting in and out of you.

Without hesitation, Chris begins pounding himself in and out you slowly, but his pace surging as his orgasm begins rising inside of him steadily. It was simmering and now that Chris inside of you, it’s cresting near the edge once again.

“Y/N,” Chris growls as his breathing quickens.

“Chris,” you moan in return as you lean forward and nip at his neck. Your teeth graze his skin lightly, then your tongue licks it slowly as you reach around him and dig your fingers into his back.

Your teeth and tongue send Chris over the edge. He thrusts into you once, then twice as he climaxes and empties himself inside of your pussy. He thrusts again, making sure every drop is inside of you.

Chris captures your mouth and kisses you deeply. He wraps his arms around you as you return his kiss. He feels you bring him down on top of you.

You don’t mind Chris’ body on top of yours. You enjoy his sweaty hot flesh against yours as you both come down from the highs of sex.

Chris pulls faintly away from your mouth. He notices the slight beard burn on your chin; he kisses the redden area lightly. Chris enjoys marking you, and with the ring on your finger, he knows he’s marked you forever.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Chris. Finders, keepers.”

#finders keepers oneshot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #oneshot #smut #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #fluff #beard burn #chris evans smut #im gonna leave this here

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svnflowervol666 · 5 years

Note

reader accidentally eating harry’s edibles🤭

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: drug use, fluff

Harry came home to a quiet house. He had just returned to London from a small, brief tour across America and was looking forward to doing absolutely nothing for the next few weeks. There was still the transitioning period, where he had to attend the debriefings and wrap up his press runs before he could actually do nothing, which was what he had come back from just now. All he wanted was to unwind and decompress with his girl that he missed dearly while he was away. Maybe order some take away and cozy up for a marathon of their favorite show that they always watched together. Something peaceful, something easy that harshly contrasts the high energy, chaotic nature that comes with touring.

But this type of peaceful, the peaceful he walked into, was quite different than what he’d invisioned in his head. He searched for her all throughout the downstairs of the house. She wasn’t in the living room tidying up and straightening the photos of her and Harry that lined the walls. She wasn’t in the laundry room washing and folding Harry’s tour clothes like she always does when he returns home. She wasn’t in the kitchen either, but he quickly realized that she had been at some point due to the empty carton of, as Mitch calls them, “special vitamins” knocked over and discarded on the marble countertop.

This sent Harry into somewhat of a panic. He wasn’t sure how many of the gummies were left in the package, but it was certainly empty. Harry knew her tolerance for marijuana was low, and that no matter how many of them she’d actually ingested, she was more than likely knocked completely on her ass wherever she were in the house. For a split second, he was angry with himself for even bringing them home in the first place. They were just something he indulged in to pass time whenever life on the road got a bit sluggish or boring, and he’d happened to have a few packets leftover after a trip to the dispensary in California so he decided to sneak them home in his suitcase. He guessed the dark, back corner of the large pantry in his kitchen still wasn’t a good enough hiding place to keep his girlfriend from finding them when she found her sweet tooth aching for some relief.

He quickly checked the entryway table that the two kept their keys in by the front door to see if she was home, and he exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing her key ring tossed halfhazardly into the small dish. It was when he made it about halfway up the stairs in his London flat that he heard any sign of life from her. The muffled, gentle melody of a familiar song could be heard coming from behind the bedroom door.

As if he feared he would walk in on a horrific sight, Harry creaked the door open inch by inch, only peeking into the room at first. His worry became obsolete when he stuck his entire head around the door, grasping the wood with his fingers curled around the lip, and he found her lying face up on their bed with a hazy smile plastered clean across her face.

Her hair stuck out in all directions on top of the comforter in a way that Harry would describe as an angelic halo. She was dressed in only one of Harry’s vintage t-shirts and her cheeky, lace underwear that had been a gift from Harry for Christmas this past year. The shirt she had on was covered in rips and tears and barely clung onto her shoulders, but it was always her favorite to lounge around the house in. It smelled the most like him, she’d told him one time. To which Harry officially gave up ever trying to get his hands on it ever again. Plus, it looked better on her, he thought to himself.

Spinning in the corner of the room was one of her favorite records, crackling and buzzing softly as the needle grazed over every dip and divot of the carefully crafted vinyl. Harry had also gotten her this and it had made her so happy that she cried tears of joy when she realized Harry had managed to get his hands on the rarest press of the album. He could hear her humming along to the tune, staring off deep into space at the ceiling fan above where she was laying.

“Baby?” Harry called for her as he approached her calmly and quietly as if she were a jungle cat that he did not want to risk disturbing.

She perked up at the sound of his voice and when her eyes met his, she greeted him with the warmest, welcoming smile Harry had ever seen. It was then that he saw her bloodshot eyes and realized just how far gone she really was.

“You’re home,” she spoke tenderly and almost barely audible over the already quiet music.

“I am. How’re ye’ feelin’?” Harry asked her as he lovingly placed his hand over her knee when he sat down beside her on the bed.

“Reaaaally good.”

Harry’s question sent her into a fit of giggles, ones that she could not suppress and took over her like wildfire. It made Harry chuckle as well.

“Don’t be mad, H. I accidentally ate some of those gummies you hid in the kitchen. I didn’t even realize what they were until I’d already eaten them all. I was just really hungry and didn’t wanna call you, cos I knew you’d freak out. But I’m fiiiiine! Pinky swear.”

She was talking like she was beyond petrified that Harry would scold her for what she’d done, but her tone suggested that she couldn’t have cared less about what happened next.

Her rambles made Harry’s signature dimples show themselves even more. He knew she’d be fine, just as she’d reassured Harry. She was certainly more off the rails than he thinks that even he’s ever been in his life, but he was with her now to take care of her and be her babysitter so there was no harm in letting her ride out her high.

“I know ye’ did, pet. Left the carton on the counter. ‘S alright. How many of ‘em did ye’ eat?” Harry then laid back on the mattress and propped himself up to one side so he could begin rubbing soothing circles on his girlfriend’s back with his skilled fingers.

She hummed, “Don’t know. Maybe like five? They tasted so good I couldn’t stop. We need more of those.”

Harry laughed again.

“Not so sure about tha’ one. Think you’ve had your fair share of ‘em for a while now.”

The lazy whine and grunt that left her chest at Harry’s words made him roll his eyes at her, but not before he leaned over to kiss her forehead sweetly. She chuckled at the tingling sensation left behind by the beginnings of Harry’s stubble grazing over the bridge of her nose.

“Ye’ look pretty wore out. They’re probably gettin’ the best of ye’ by now. Wanna go t’ bed?”

This elicited a yawn from his girlfriend, to which she nodded and shimmied closer towards him so she could burrow her body tightly against Harry’s chest.

“Only if you hold me. You’re warm.”

Harry responded to her touch as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him, curling his front around her so that their legs were intertwined and his hands had a good hold on the back of her head so he could play with her hair until she fell asleep in her hazy, debilitated state.

“Always, bubby.”

He waited until the drugs had knocked her out cold, humming along to the music that eventually stopped when the needle reached the end of the vinyl and petting her scalp gently. When he’d managed to wriggle his way out of her grasp, he quickly stripped himself of his clothes and grabbed an extra throw blanket before rejoining her in the middle of the bed. There was no use dragging her body up to the front of the bed and making her slide under the duvet. She was deadweight and he didn’t want to risk her waking up in a panic when she’d realize she was still significantly high off of the cannibus.

With his arm draped over her waist protectively and his chin nuzzled into the soft skin of her neck, Harry supposed maybe this was the type of peaceful he was hoping for when he came home earlier tonight.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #asks

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rinaswritings · 3 years

Text

Entities with each other's aesthetics P1: Corruption

Aesthetic: Bugs, Rot, Filth

More parts: Coming soon!

Eye: They stare at you, the swarm. You see yourself reflected in their shiny compound eyes. You see yourself in the oil slick liquid that soaks every surface around you. You see the swarm. Watching them as they watch you. Eyes upon eyes upon eyes upon eyes upon eyes upon eyes upon eyes. You scream. They stay still and silent. Always watching.

Spiral: You scrub and scrub away at every surface you see. Not clean, never clean. The scum creeps up, faster than you can take care of it. Your friends drop by for a visit. You apologize for the mess. They turn to you, confused. They say, "what mess?" You know they're just being nice. You know they see it. They have to. It's not just in your head. It can't be.

End: It's the cycle of life. The dead feed the earth, you feed from the earth, and when you die, the dead feed from you. You didn't see a need for the casket, the vault. But the unsealed coffin lets them in. First it's the dirt, mixing with the liquids that'll leak from you. Then the slowly drifting spores and threads of mycelium will wind through you. Then the burrowing bugs and worms, making a home in what once was yours. Cremation always made you uneasy but... it seems to be the better option.

Stranger: You've been losing weight. Your old clothes don't fit anymore. Your skin is covered in strange purple spots. You go to the doctor. They congratulate you on losing all that weight. You scrub your skin. You apply over the counter creams and lotions. They do noting to curb the spread. Your hair starts to fall out. You look in the mirror. An emaciated purple thing with rags hanging off it stairs back at you. Who is that? It can't be you.

Lonely: Your taps have always been funky. You've called the plumbers, but they always come when you're not home. They leave notes, telling you that everything is fine. Your TV broke last week, so you're stuck with your favorite radio station. The one that only plays songs in those sparse ads scattered in between. You sit in the kitchen where the reception is best. The tap drips away, brackish water slowly collecting. It leaves spots on everything it touches. You've learned to live with it now. It's not like anyone's coming over to judge you.

Desolation: You came back from the hurricane after your landlord told you everything was fine in your apartment. The second you walked in, you could smell it. Mold coated every surface around you. The couch your mother bought for you from the neighbor. The chair cushions your aunt gave you for Christmas. The bookcase your grandma gave you. The photos of you and your girlfriend, face is completely obscured by the crawling fungi. Your life lies in ruins around you.

Slaughter: You stand on the battlefield, soaked in mud and blood. The flies are already buzzing around the corpses. It's better than they deserve. It was over too quickly for them, they should have suffered longer. The flies land on you too. They buzz along to the rapid beat of your heart. You stand there in the field as the stench blood invades your lungs. The rage settles in your gut, rotting you from the inside out.

Vast: You’ve always enjoyed history. But you’ve been avoiding studying the dinosaurs. Something about their size wigs you out. You can’t help but shudder at the size of the bugs in those periods. You’re awfully glad they’re so small in this era. The idea that a slightly higher concentration of oxygen could make them grow so big is horrifying. If the oxygen levels were to climb suddenly, how big could they get? What about 30% oxygen? 50%? Is it exponential? You try to assure yourself that oxygen poisoning would prevent that. But nothing stops the thoughts of segmented legs thicker than your body. Wings that can cause hurricanes. Antenna that get lost in the clouds.

Buried: The fungus creeps down your throat. The frantic huffs slowly turn into a sharp whistle. You can feel the tendrils moving with each breath. You claw at your throat, scraping, digging, but the roots are too deep now. Still, you choke it down. Gritty things, sharp things, large things. Anything that might be able to scrape your throat raw of the things that have taken root in you. The tremendous weight of it all holds you down. It spills out of your mouth, rooting you to the floor. It keeps growing, up and out, until it crushes your wheezing lungs.

Dark: You hear them. Your hear them. Buzzing, slimy, slick movement. They have to be close. They're closing in. The noises get closer and closer. You try to step back, but they surround you. Your brain paints vivid images of what is currently stalking you. Large hulking insectoid monsters. Slimy slithering slugs. You want to run, but your feet slip on the floor. You barely hold back your scream. You can only hope they are as blind as you are in this darkness.

Web: The spiders quickly become omens. Once one appears in your home, the sickness is soon to follow. Of course, you know better than to play to their whims. As head of the pandemic response, you need to stay rational. Contain the infection. The people are scared. One night, the people take matters into their own hands. They burn the Parthenos home to the ground, after spotting several spiders roaming inside. In the meeting, your rival demands that you reach out to other towns for help. But that could spread the infection. The town needs to stay quarantined. You’re doing this for the greater good. You tell yourself this as you place the spider inside their open window. The sickness will be contained. At any cost. You won’t let anyone stop you.

Flesh: It eats you alive. First it comes for your toes, blackening and rotting them away. It climbs up, stealing away everything. Even the bones, that appear to stick out, become brittle and flake away. It slows when it reaches your stomach. Not the spread, no. But the decay. You still feel it crawling up. It’s reached your head now. You feel it threatening to climb up your spine. Your teeth feel loose. You root around in your mouth, pulling. A piece of your jaw comes with it. You can’t find it within yourself to care.

Hunt: You hadn’t meant to step on the nest! But those yellow jackets hide well under the soil, burrowing into the earth and building their nests. Swarming out whenever anything steps over their home. You know how to deal with them. Run away. Hole up in a building. Submerge yourself in a source of water. But you’ve been running for hours. Sweat rolls down your back as the ominous buzzing gets closer. You’ve got to be far enough away from the nest, right? They’ve got to stop soon, right? You glance around desperately. Any type of shelter will do. The buzzing gets closer.

#tma #14 fears #tw gore #tw sickness #tw mold #horror #second person pov #my writing

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