#he just sits in my brain all the time…. menacingly

[wutheringcaterpillar]

18 years

Summary: After 18 years of marriage Thomas plans a special day just for you that he wants to be perfect even if that means keeping his kids out of trouble.

Warnings: Slight misogynistic Thomas, talk of termination.

Side Note: This is my first fic in awhile since I stopped writing two years ago on a different account, I hope it's okay! :)

The Shelby household was anything but perfect but for today Thomas was going out of his way to ensure that it was. Being a housewife and a mother was by far not an easy job.Thomas and you had been married for eighteen years. Did it get ugly sometimes? Absolutely. That didn’t change the adoration and love you shared for each other.

While you were out running some errands with Ada, Thomas has quite a few helping hands in cleaning up the house, and decorating it to the 10s. “Well brother, how’s it lookin’ eh?”

The silver chandelier presented the dining room with a warm glow that made the silver set table look ever so inviting. All the rooms were vacuumed and mopped, not a crumb in site. The floors glistened beautifully to his high standard. “Never did I think that my incompetent brothers would use their brains for a day and the outcome be satisfactory.” Arthur laughed in response, before giving Thomas a playful nudge. “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Thomas rushed to the kitchen once he remembered he left the kids in there unattended. They were being not very helpful to say the least.

Annabeth, and Edward were now teenagers full of hormones and outbursts. It seemed like they would argue every day about the smallest things but today Thomas wasn’t allowing there behavior especially today.

“Does dad know about Jackson?” Annabeth scoffed at him with a disgusted face. Thomas did not allow her to date unless he appointed the young man to her. The same could not be said for Edward’s late night shenanigans that Thomas was aware of and Annabeth despised the double standard. “No, and I’d appreciate if you kept your fucking mouth sh-“

“Now, now. No need for bickering on a day that’s about your mother and all she has done for you.” Thomas entered the room dressed in a black and white suit and tie that fit him snuggly, giving off his normal professional sense. “I wanted to have a word with the both of you before your mother arrives which should be-“ He pulled his watch out of his suit to get a glimps of the time. “In ten minutes precisely.” Edward opened his mouth to speak but Thomas raised his hand to stop him. “I don’t want any interruptions I want you both to listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth and I highly suggest you take them seriously or you will not enjoy the consequences. Eh?” He eyed them both with his eyebrows raised, both of them stayed quiet as they lightly cowered in there seats to there father’s stature. “Stand up. Both of you.” Without hesitations the teenagers stood up, not slouching but standing to s perfect straight line.

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” Thomas walked around them in a circle menacingly never taking his eyes off of them while they stared at the ground and listened to their fathers words. “I don’t care, if you don’t like the food. I don’t care if you don’t like sitting next to each other. More importantly I don’t care how either of you feel today. Today is about your mother. There will be no games, no arguments, no sports. More importantly-“ He stopped in his tracks now in front of them, hands on his knees as he leaned down so they had no choice but to look in his demeaning eyes. “No. Fucking. Fighting.”

There was a brief silence, as if to let the air settle and for what he said to soak into them. “We’re clear eh?” They both nodded and Thomas dismissed them. “Great now, go get formally dressed.” He watched as they both walked out of the kitchen. He greatly appreciated how much time and effort you spent in taking care of them and it’s time they return the favor for at the least one singular night.

Edward shoved his sister playfully into a wall, just around the corner to where they thought Thomas wouldn’t hear. Annabeth shoved him back and pointed up at him. “If you say one thing about-“

“Who your late night squeeze?” Edward began to laugh and Annabeth shoved him again.

Thomas heard from the kitchen and raised his hands in the air, disposing of his cigarette before he spoke to himself, annoyed. “What did I just say?” Thomas was going to let it go until he heard something break that sounded expensive.

In a quick pace to the hallway, he saw the both of you attempting to round the corner to the next room but they should know who their father is by now that nothing goes uncaught. “Eh! Over here now!” The siblings shamefully turned awaiting for all hell to break loose. Thomas was the strict parent, and that frightened them, which is what he wanted.

Glancing to the ground, an expensive, rare crystal dish was shattered on the floor, and he was going to be damned if Frances was going to clean it up. For Thomas’s sake he just hope you wouldn’t notice until after his surprise. “I said three, fucking words to you.”

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” He hit the both of them on the back of their heads. “Yes I’m aware of Jackson, I was hoping to avoid the subject today but I have ears so I suppose this will be addressed right fucking now to clear the fucking air. I pay close attention to anyone and anything around me and my family. You both should know that more than anyone. Seeing Jackson stops now. I don’t approve of him, my daughter will not be marrying some useless sack of shit like that. See him again. You will never leave this house again, got it?” Annabeth nodded with her heated cheeks. Edward began to quietly laugh to himself while his sister was being reprimanded.

That’s when Thomas was quick to call him out too. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re giggling at like I don’t know what you do with the little whores from school, sneaking them into my fucking house.” All grins from Edward diminished immediately.

“What you do is your business but in my fucking house. That’s my fucking business. Clearly your mother and I have given both of you too much privilege. I don’t care who you fuck but I’d be careful if I were you because the first girl you get pregnant, you’re marrying whether you love her or not. You know why? Because I say so. As for sneaking them in my house. Good luck with that from now on I’m sure you haven’t noticed but maybe you should take a look at the new people I hired if you could find them to watch the house whilst your mother and I are away for our anniversary.” Both of them were speechless and Thomas sent them up to their room. Thomas may be older than them but he wasn’t born yesterday. After all he spent plenty of those nights sneaking in and out of your house when you first started dating. He knows all the ins and outs of scheming.

The sound of car door closing grabbed his attention and panic mode slightly set in for him. Thomas Shelby didn’t panic but in the event of there being a chance that something may not be to your standard, he panicked. “Hurry on, your mother is here! Get dressed in proper clothes and not some skimpy, raggedy mess for once!” He yelled after his children.

The weather was chilly as winter was approaching in Birmingham. The snow was falling delicately from the sky once you pulled in with Ava and to say you were freezing was an understatement but the new brown wool blanket, she has gotten you should do more than help. “Ada you didn’t have to buy me anything. I have money.”

“Oh being married to my brother, believe me I know you have money, just wanted to treat you today is that so bad?” You shrugged, smiling at your sister. “C’mon let’s get inside.”

“Oh I hope Thomas was okay with the kids today, I know he’s hardly taking care of them alone without needing my help.” Ada set a comforting hand on your shoulder before reaching for the door handle. “Y/N if Thomas can’t handle them for a few hours, I don’t know how you’ve gotten this far.” You both laughed and once the door opened, you were met with a warm embrace there must’ve been a fire lit in the living room. Thomas came abruptly from around the corner after yelling something at Arthur that you weren’t able to make out. “Y/N! My dear loving wife!” Thomas pulled you to his side, and had Ada remove your jacket.

He was freshly shaven, and showered, smelling of mint and tobacco. His smile pierced your eyes, and he leaned down to kiss you softly. “How was your day out with Ada love?”

“Wonderful, was nice to get away from all the testosterone for a bit.” You giggled and then started noticing your surroundings. The floor was sparkling, not a sign of dirt or mud. The laundry basket was empty, the kitchen spotless, you went to turn into the dining room but Thomas quickly placed his hands over your eyes. “Thomas, what’s going on the house looks-“

“Happy anniversary sweetheart.” He removed his hands and the sight of the dining room was absolutely breathtaking. The curtains looked brand new, a dark cherry red colored that allowed the sun to poke through in a welcoming manner. The chairs were painted black and with gold patted seats to sit on. The food arrangements looked more than delicious and most importantly your whole family was there. Annabeth dressed in a a beautiful gold gown and Edward dressed in a suit and tie matching his father. Even the Shelby brothers looked showered and dressed to the tens. “Thomas I-“

He guided you to your seat, pulling out the chair for you. “Don’t say anything love, just enjoy dinner and don’t even think about doing dishes or cleaning up after this. We’ve got it.” Thomas winked at you as he took his seat beside you, the glowing of your smile and surprise leaving him just as happy as the day you said yes to marrying him.

18 years, and he still found time to manage to make it feel like the first day you fell in love with him. “I just want to take a moment to thank Frances who will also be joining us for this lovely meal. I couldn’t have put today together without any of you. Thank you for taking them time to assist me in doing this for Y/N, my beautiful wife whom I adore and admire more and more every day. Thank you for being such a wonderful mother to our kids and dealing with me. Not sure how you quite do it but I’m glad you’ve stayed and put up with me.” Thomas raised his glass of whiskey in honor of everyone.

Your eyes began to water to which he’d caught your tear of joy with his free finger. You mouthed a thank you to him and an I love you and dinner began. Once dinner was over Thomas made a final announcement. “Tonight Y/N and I will be leaving for Bali for our anniversary.” You gasped, hand covering your mouth in disbelief. You’d never gone and you had never found the time. Thomas wasn’t giving you an option to not have time. “We’ll return Wednesday afternoon and I’d just like to take a minute to thank Pol and Frances for watching the kids. Thank you all for coming, and I appreciate every one of you bastards.” Laughs filled the room while Thomas extended his hand for you to take and help you out of your seat.

Once upstairs you stared at your body in the mirror, just getting the feeling that something was off but putting it off your mind. “You didn’t have to do all this Thomas.” He came up behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “I did love. You do so much and never take time for yourself, always putting I and the children first. You need to be put first too.” Swinging around, you stared into your husband’s crystal blue eyes.

It has been a long, long ride for the two of you together, that will keep going. But this soft, sentiment man had taken awhile to appear and you’re not sure how you got him to come out but you were glad you did. “I love you Mr. Shelby.”

“And I love you Mrs. Shelby.” You giggled as he smiled down at you in awe, before placing his lips on yours, connecting them in a chaste, delicate kiss. “Mom, Dad the cab’s here!” Annabeth called.

“Would you shut up you idiot, dad probably already knew that.”

“Eh! No fighting, right?” There was a silence before they both responded in unison. “Sorry dad!”

“I don’t know how you managed to get them along for dinner but kahoots to you my dear husband because that’s something I could never do.” Thomas wrapped his arm around you, as you walked down the stairs together. “I’m Thomas Shelby. The name alone fucking scares anyone.”

“Well I guess I’m not anyone then am I?” Thomas shook his head smiling. “No, no you’re not. You weren’t even frightened of me when I screamed at some whore, for thinking she could seduce me.”

“Fuck no, if you hadn’t I wouldn’t be Mrs. Shelby now would I?” Thomas laughed once more before opening the car door for you. The snow covered ground glistened from the bright night sky as you scooted into the cab.

The ride was quiet whilst you rested in Thomas’s arms which he thought was rather odd, that usually meant something was on your mind. “Are you alright love?” Breaking a part from, you took his hand in yours. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Worry etched over Thomas’s face but it didn’t compete with the level of anxiety you were feeling. “Whatever it is you can tell me Y/N, we’re celebrating eighteen years of marriage nothing is going to run me off now I can assure you that.” You stared down at the seat, eyebrows etched together in concern of his reaction. Patting his hand you looked up at him slowly, paying close attention to his eyes. “Thomas I think I might be pregnant. I know it's a big age gap for Edward and Annbeth to be close with them but I still want to have this baby." Thomas didn't hesitate to speak as he did not want to worry you. "Sweetheart, how long have you known?"

"I think I've known for about a week and I know it sounds silly that I was nervous to tell you but I didn't know if you'd want me to get rid of it because I know we didn't plan for this."

"Darling we didn't plan for the first two." You laughed and Thomas pulled you into his arms, resting his hands on your stomach. "I'd never ever want you to think I'd want you to get rid of our child besides, I love when you're pregnant, your swollen tits, your glowing smile and glowing tummy. I love every part of you Y/N nothing is going to change that. Okay?" You couldn't help the tears that began to stream down your cheeks, that Tommy once again wiped away, and he smiled lovingly at you. You nodded and leaned into his chest. You were going to be okay, and today was more than amazing. It was perfect.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: How so 🔞

In which Jungkook and you learn more about each other while also uncovering more about yourselves.

Tags/Warnings: non-Idol AU, enemies to lovers, reader learns to be a cinnamon roll, Jungkook just simply is a cinnamon roll, adult themes, fluff, romance, short!reader go cry about it, smut, mutual masturbation, oral, special guest star: mc's vibrator, angry namjoon, slight DDLG-aspects/themes? Soft daddy/dom vibes from kook? They're stronger this time ngl

Story length: 3.5k oops-

Belongs to: Why Not (🔞)

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"one." he counts, arms crossed menacingly as he stands at the foot of his bed, a bit of a distance away from where you're laying. You've been napping and been lazy all day- and while he doesn't mind, he's also come to learn it makes your head ache and your attitude cranky.

"two.." he draws the number out a little, and you're not sure what he thinks this whole act of counting down will do for you. You're not affected by that. You're not a kid after all. Your muscles aren't suddenly itching to move, absolutely not.

"how far are you gonna count?" you mumble into the pillows below, holding onto it as he doesn't have anything else to hug really.

"you wanna find out, princess?" he wonders darkly, and the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

Okay, maybe you're a little bit affected.

Just as he's about to admit defeat, you actually move, sitting up on the bed with your hair all unruly and loose shirt exposing your collarbone. He smiles a bit to himself.

He'd had somewhat of a hunch about you, and these days, those theories seem to prove themselves as correct. It both amuses him, and makes him happy at the same time, because you really are just his type beneath all that tough-girl persona you've put up in front of others.

"there we go. Wasn't so hard now, was it?" he chuckles, pulling you towards the edge of the bed by your ankles. "now come on, go wash up. You can't spend your days off only asleep, baby." he gently scolds, pecking your lips while you whine, making him laugh against your lips.

"but why not?" you complain. "your bed is comfy, and it's MY days off!" you reply, making him smack your naked thigh without much force.

"maybe, but you're spending them at MY apartment, in MY bed." he reminds you, slowly walking out the door. "now get up, I'm making breakfast!" he calls out, before you let yourself fall onto your back again as soon as he's out of sight.

It's not like he can boss you around.

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"Hm, no." he suddenly says, shocking you to the core.

You're aching, looking at him with eyes wide open while Jungkook detaches himself from you before he casually wipes his hand on his sweatpants, stealing your orgasm in the process. "you don't do what I say.." he shrugs, sitting back on the couch next to you. "So why should I?"

There's no words in your brain. You didnt think it would bite you back like this, not by a long shot. He's such a sweet guy, has been for the entire time you've known him- he wouldn't be so cruel now, would he?

"But-" you stammer, closing your legs bashfully. "Jungkook you can't be serious.." you say, though you don't know why this is strangely exciting to you. "you said that I'm, you know, that you'll-"

"That's still true." he nods. "I won't ever do something you don't want. You can say stop and I'll stop, easy as that. But that doesn't mean you get to play me, darling." he teases, tent clearly visible in his pants.

"So what? You gonna just sit there and wait?" you complain, arms crossed. He's clearly hard. There's no way he can just wait it out.

"No." he tilts his head, before his hand wanders. "I can cum by myself just fine." he smirks, leaning back as he palms himself over his sweatpants.

He can't be serious. You're not ready for that- or are you? It's strange, like a rollercoaster in your insides, going up and down at the sight of him. Your cunt aches, clenching around nothing- and even stranger, you want to see him.

Not like now- you want to see him.

"I won't touch you." he reminds you as he adjusts himself a little. "but you can touch yourself. Maybe you'll cum all by yourself?" be says with a joking tone, leaning his head to the side of the couch.

You've got an idea.

"but.. You can see me naked down there.." you argue. "I can't. Thats unfair if you ask me." you complain, making him laugh.

"Cheeky." he comments. "guess that's true." Jungkook shrugs, before he casually pulls down his pants and underwear like it's nothing, his length eagerly jumping free it seems.

Your head is suddenly empty, no thoughts running through.

You're not stupid. You've seen dicks before, you watch porn after all, but still- maybe it's because it's his? But something about it makes you rub your thighs against one another, an ache forming in your core.

"was about to ask if you're comfortable-" he chuckles. "-but I guess you're clearly okay with this?" he asks, and you nod, throwing all hesitancy out the window. You're okay, you've never been so okay with something before.

Your thighs slowly open, hand finding your most sensitive spot easily while he can't keep his eyes off of you, his own hand starting to stroke himself as well. "you know.." he softly says, watching while his breathing deepens. "..this is a first for me as well." be confesses, thumb running over the tip of his length, spreading the precum with wet noises.

You feel antsy.

It's clear that he knows his body perfectly, every movement of his palm bringing pleasure it seems, and you're watching, learning, because you wanna try doing it for him one day too. This is your chance of finding out what he likes.

"what're you thinking, hm?" he wonders breathlessly.

"wanna touch you." you whine, and his jaw clenches while he swallows.

"hm, really?" he asks, letting his cock go, self control setting in as he puts his hands to his side. "alright. Go ahead." be encourages.

You swallow, attempt to find a tissue or something to clean your hand, but he shakes his head. Don't you dare wipe that off, he thinks.

He's warm.

Thats the first thing you notice as your hand wraps around his length, fingers carefully exploring what he's got to offer. Every little glance you give him brings him closer to a heart attack he feels like as he let's his head fall back, eyes closed because your touch affects him more than he thought it would.

Until they snap open again, a surprised moan escaping his mouth as he feels what's unmistakably your tongue on his tip.

"Sorry-!" you apologise. "I should've asked too.." you say, and he laughs to himself.

"it's okay. I-" be looks at you. "I liked it. But give a man a earning next time, jesus." he laughs, relaxing you with that. You lean in again, just for the joke of it, but once your lips wrap around his head, it doesn't feel odd at all. In fact, it's kind of nice.

Meanwhile he's forcing together all of his strength not to cum down your throat.

You're dangerous he realizes as he watches you somehow figure out how to give him bead all by yourself- hands playing around, even shyly giving some attention to his balls while your tongue swirls over his tip.

It's all too much.

He can spot how you jump back a bit surprised, though as if by instinct you keep stroking him, watch as the ropes of cum spurt out and onto his sweatpants. There's some on your lips that you wipe off, though the slightly bitter taste on your tongue also doesn't feel too bad.

"Fuck." he laughs, catching his breath before he reaches out, hands opening your legs so his palm can find your core. Two fingers enter you again, the heel of his hand rubbing over your clit in a motion and speed that makes your head spin. "more- please!" you beg, cully at his mercy until you cum with spasming hips, hands on your mouth doing little to hide your screams of pleasure.

You're both out of breath by the time your minds are back and functioning, laughter echoing off the walls as the situation is realized by the both of you.

Maybe you're really made for each other.

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"What the fuck did I tell you?!" is the first thing Namjoon barks at him next time he sees him at Yoongis studio. "Are you deaf? Mentally challenged? Is that it?!" he keeps insulting, as Yoongi pushes him back.

"okay alright, let's calm down here." he tries to reason.

"I don't even know whats- oh." Jungkook realises, lips pushed together in a thin line.

"Yeah, 'oh'." Namjoon scolds. "what's your excuse? You tripped and landed dick first in her?" he jokes without humor.

"Namjoon, it's really not like that at all." he attempts to explain himself. "I'm not-"

"screwing her?" be finishes impatiently for the younger friend.

"no- I mean kind of? I, somewhat, it's not that simple-" he starts, when Namjoon jumps up from the couch again, barely held by the eldest in the room. "we're together Namjoon! I'm not just fucking her, I'm going out with her.!" he hurries out. "I- yeah, fuck it." he sighs, running a hand through his longer hair. "I actually really like her. Like, love-like." he confesses, causing the room to fall silent.

Jungkook doesn't do well with the dreaded L-word.

In fact, Jungkook hasn't ever been in an actual relationship before, ever. He's been a guy with bad luck and an red dot on his heart for others to aim at it seems. Used for his kind nature, pockets emptied more often than he could count, used for pleasure before getting told that 'you're just a friend, sorry.'

And every time he'd do it again, fall in love, get his heart broken, repeat after a week of sadness. Until he'd stopped, years ago, having promised himself to never be that guy to be stepped on again. He's still kind, he's still nice- but he keeps his heart behind a glass window, for everyone to see, but none to touch.

Until you came along.

"you.. What?" Namjoon asks, a lot more calm now.

"I think I love her." he says again, noticing himself the weight of his words as he says them. "I- I don't think. I'm really.." he's unsure how to phrase it. It can't be love yet, and it isn't, but it's something else- something comfortable, like watching a movie that you know ends well just to relax and get rid of all the stress piled up on your shoulders. He's not falling in love, not at all.

There's no falling involved. There's no pit he's tumbling down into, no fear at all about what might happen next. It's more like a steady walk, right next to you, to a place he just knows will be nice.

"Wow." Yoongi laughs, hitting the youngest's back with a grin.

All while Namjoon sighs, watching the now teary-eyed young man wipe his cheeks in embarrassment.

Yeah- maybe there's nothing to fear if it's him you're with.

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"I always wondered what kind it was." Jungkook says, and you're wondering what he's talking about when he walks into the tiny bedroom of yours, holding your purple bullet vibrator with no shame at all.

"JEAN JUNGKOOK GIVE THAT TO ME-!" you yell out in panic, jumping from the mattress on the floor towards him, jumping at his hand that's holding your most secret item high above your hand.

"hm, no." he smiles impishly. "but you can continue jumping, I'm really enjoying the show here, precious." he says, tip of his tongue running over the silver piercing decorating his bottom lip.

Who knew that this sweet looking man could be so so evil.

"aw don't pout, I was just curious." he apologizes as you stand there with your arms crossed, tank top showing him a lot more skin than he's used to whenever he's alone with you. He's seen your cleavage before. Your thighs, your legs, but never in an intimate scenario like this. "though you should be more careful with this thing. I almost stepped on it." he teases, and you turn red at that.

"I forgot to put it away I guess.." you say, reaching for it as he pulls it away again. "Jungkook!"

"ever used it on your tits?" he tilts his head, taking a step towards you. You take a step back, like he's a magnet of the same charge pushing against you with invisible force.

"n-no." you shake your head, unable to hide your excitement bubbling up. You like it when he's like this- dominant, but not pushy. "that doesn't do anything." you argue. He chuckles.

"doesn't it?" he wonders, taking another step. "I could think of a few ways to use it, you know?" he implies. You swallow hard.

"..like?" you wonder quietly, gaze snapping from the toy in his hand to his eyes every now and then.

"wanna find out, princess?" he asks, and for some reason, this sentence still makes you shiver in pleasure. It's just words, how come they touch you just as much as his hands can? He's got you unable to form any sentences with just that simple look of his, so you simply nod, a surprised squeal escaping you when his hands push your shoulder.

Luckily, you fall onto the mattress below, having not noticed that he's been walking you towards it the entire time.

"You know, I kind of feel sorry for your neighbors." He chuckles, leaning over you.

"Huh?" you wonder dumbly, but he just shakes his head, brushing it off for the moment, as his hands instead play with the straps of your top.

"Can I take this off?" He asks. "It's fine if you're not comfortable with that yet, though. No worries." He shrugs. But you shake your head, pulling on the bottom on your top, before you hesitate.

"Can you.. take yours off too?" You ask, and he grins, nodding eagerly. He already figured you might feel more comfortable with that, but he wants you to speak up on your own as well. It's something he personally finds important- that you keep your independence, that you only do what you truly want and feel comfortable with. Never does he want to convince you to do anything, never at all.

He knows what that's like. It leads to regrets, shame, embarrassment- and he doesn't want you to feel that with him.

You're a bit hesitant now that you see his.. well, very toned body underneath. You personally don't work out- only occasionally, if you feel like it, or if you've eaten a particularly big meal and it makes you feel all heavy and bloated. You're nothing like him- stomach soft, slightly protruding, no defined muscles or anything. And yet, you jump over your shadow, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate like the lens of a camera trying to focus.

In his eyes, you're everything and nothing like he'd imagined. You're better than anything his thoughts could've ever come up with.

He's dropped the toy for now, instead using his hands to run them up your sides, before they finally reach your chest, soft and warm in his hands. He's never been one to have preferences when it comes to someone's body- but he can see himself quickly falling for the feel of them in his palms. "How can you be so pretty?" He wonders, and you squirm a little, causing him to laugh. "You're so cute." He can't help but comment, before he shakes his hair out of his eyes, sitting back on his heels.

You're already putting your feet up against his abdomen, making him smile as he runs his fingers over your ankles, before he tilts his head to the side. "I appreciate you being such a good girl, but that'll have to wait." He praises, and you turn a bit red, before he takes your legs and maneuvers them around his waist, pulling you closer towards him. He can already spot a wet patch on your underwear- a clear sign that he's affecting you just as much as you are him- and he can't help but feel his own ego swell a little.

He's not felt like this in a long time, if ever at all.

"Did you charge it?" He wonders, and you shuffle around a little to get comfortable, accidentally rutting against his already way too constrained bulge in his pants, making him groan in surprise. "Alright there, that was a simple question jesus christ woman!" He laughs, making you laugh as well.

"Sorry, I was just adjusting!" You giggle, while stretching your arms over your head for a second. You feel oddly comfortable with him, even all exposed like this. It's a nice feeling you've not yet experienced with anybody before. "But uh- I don't know, it needs batteries, you can't charge it." You explain, and Jungkook nods.

"Well, let's hope these got some juice left in them." He simply tells you. "If not, I'll find another way to make you cum." He casually comments, making you wonder what he could maybe come up with.

Sex used to be terribly scary. An intimidating thought that would leave you restless whenever thinking of it. But now? With him? It's exciting.

He clicks the button a few times, seemingly trying out the only three modes the cheap toy has, before licking his lips and shaking his head. "I'll get you a better one one day." He mumbles more or less to himself, before turning on the lowest setting, lifting your panties, and placing it right against your core, snug with the extra push from his own bulge pressing against you. "Thank god I've packet a spare set of pants." He almost growly down at you, watching with hooded eyes as your hips roll against him. His hands grip your thighs, the sight of you equally as enticing as the buzzing toy between you both.

You don't know this, but Jungkook is exploring his own sexuality just as much as you are with him.

He's never really thought of any specific things he might like that aren't 'conventional'- but with you, he feels comfortable to the point of trying out new things, or random ideas such as what he's doing right now. But it's fine, because it's you. It's like he's got a chance to find himself alongside you, as if you're his chance of finally becoming comfortable with his own body and soul.

He's falling in love with you, while also starting to like himself more and more.

He's also noticed by now, that he's a lot more sensitive with you. A simple sensual touch of yours can make him stir awake in his pants like a boy during puberty, but he's not even mildly embarrassed by it whatsoever. Because you aren't either. He's really become in tune with you in terms of energy- when you're excited, he get's excited. When you're happy, he's happy. When you get sad, he get's sad as well. It feels nice, to have a connection like that.

You're whining beneath him, a lot more vocal now than compared to the first time he's ever been intimate with you, and he feels his pride swell at these signs of you becoming more and more relaxed and comfortable around him. Your hands reach out for his own, and he takes them happily- holding you, as you arch your back and voice out your pleasure, especially once your orgasm hits, the closeness of him making it impossible for you to squirm away and ruin it for yourself. With the little experience you have, you don't really know what you're supposed to feel like- and granted, right now, you're seeing stars, unable to form any coherent thought.

The sight of you so lost in pleasure sets him off as well- warmth of his own cum escaping him making him cringe a little, his hand reaching between the both of you to turn the plastic toy off. He's breathing heavily just like you, shivering beneath him from the aftermath of your high. "I'd say-" He hums into the crook of your neck, kisses placed in his own afterglow, "-the batteries were definitely still full." He jokes, making you laugh as you hit his back playfully.

"I gotta shower but my legs feel like rubber." You complain, making him lift his face into your area of sight.

"We could shower together?" He suggests. "No funny business. Just me holding you, in case you fall." He tells you, and you look at him for a moment, thinking.

He's already seen like what- 80% of you? There's nothing to fear anymore, really. So you nod, holding out your arms. "Carry me?" You ask playfully cute, and he grins.

"Wherever you want to, princess."

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[pedgito]

YAY i’m so glad you’re writing again, i’ve missed it!! can i request some sweet and maybe kinda mischievous/giggly smut with eddie?

a/n: i have released myself from horny fic jail to bring you whatever this is, surely a mess. i'm slowly writing other fics but i needed to get back in my eddie groove. thank you for this!

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab!reader, unprotected sex, face sitting, light dom/sub (barely, if any), multiple orgasms

word count: 2k

Eddie’s fingers are dancing around the edge of your collar, cotton shirt worn with age and fraying in random places. He’s rubbing it between his fingers, flipping it over to watch it fall back into place, silent aside from the occasional huff of laughter that escapes him when he catches you looking at him. 

He enjoys this—the times in between, the before, the after. The small moments of vulnerability when it’s just you and him and your breathing. He’s managed to rid you of your jeans, his own too, your legs slotted securely around his hips and his lap turning into a makeshift seat. 

He’s maneuvered himself against the wall behind his bed, legs angled up to act as a support for your back as the hand that isn’t currently fiddling with your shirt is rubbing a gentle pattern up your leg, rings catching on the material of your underwear with each glide upwards.

“What’s going on up there?” You ask playfully, tapping a soft finger against the center of his forehead. Eddie glances your way, eyes angled up slightly—menacingly, with a grin to match. 

“Don’t think I forgot about this morning.” Eddie responds, a softness to his tone that was unsettling, almost as if he’s speaking on a topic he loved, addressing the situation with ease. 

This morning. Front seat. A hopeful quickie cut short by the sound of the school bell cutting through the silence. Eddie begged for a moment longer, but letting your grades suffer on the account of being late? You just wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, it was his fault you were running late, therefore the punishment had been dealt. But now, it was coming back to bite you. 

“You are—“ The words die out on a squeal, his fingers digging into your sides until you’re keeling over, begging for mercy from the relentless tickling.

“Say it,” Eddie goaded, peeking up from where he had his face buried against your clothed chest, curls hanging in his face from how messy his hair had become during the short wrestle, “what am I?”

A list compiled in your head.

Funny. Caring. Obnoxious in the most loving way and a bunch of different traits that ultimately came back to the same point. But, the only thing that popped into your brain was—

“Ridiculous.”

Eddie nods, almost like he expected it.

“Go on.” He encourages.

“Selfish.” 

It’s a total lie.

He responds all the same, but the difference is the fingertips gliding along the column of your throat, a delicate glide as his touch tickles until it’s in a firm grasp under your jaw. He’s not squeezing or taunting, just holding. It feels like a caress, but the look on his face says otherwise.

“Infuriating.” You breathe out, eyes flicking up toward the ceilings as you bare your neck and there it is—the small force of pressure you were waiting for.

“Right.” Eddie nods calmly, palm shifting out behind him as support as he leans forward, legs falling as he forces you backwards an inch, slotting your cunt directly over the hard line of his cock, constrained by the tight material of his boxers. 

He repeats the three words calmly, punctuating them each with a kiss to the line of your throat as he ascends, stopping by his thumb, whispering a haughty, “Let’s see if I can change that.”

Eddie constantly lived his life in extremes. High highs, low lows, never settling on middle ground until he met you. He was teasing you, taunting you, mostly for your own pleasure but especially for his.

And he could admit that he was selfish when he wanted to be, but never with you. The words stung and ignited a fire, determined to change your mind.

His free hand curls a finger around the material clinging to your hip, teasing the soft skin underneath.

“Take these off for me?”

What an asinine question.

He releases his hold on you, watching you teeter from side to side as you shimmy the clothing down your hips, your legs, the material catching on your ankle in a way that has you giggling awkwardly. Eddie’s kind enough to lend a hand, his own laugh escaping as he reaches and discards them for you. 

It’s worse this way, not providing the friction you so desperately crave. Skin to skin. 

Eddie’s playing the long game.

“Go ahead,” Eddie encourages, “seeing as I’m selfish.”

“I was joking—“ You know it. He knows it.

“Ah ah,” He chided, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His dragging a full once over, thumb digging into the curve of your hip bones. He guides you forward gently, a tantalizing and teasing glide.

“Take what you need, baby.” His teeth peek through his grin, eyes crinkling in a way that had your insides fluttering. “I mean, unless…you’d rather I be selfish.” 

You huff a breath through your nose, letting out a small yelp when Eddie jerks you forward roughly, expanding on the already growing wet patch on the front of his boxers.

“Go on,” He breathes, eyes slowly traversing to connect with your own, “touch me.”

It doesn’t take long for things to escalate, your hands slipping under his waistband, cupping him with a gentler hand than he expects before pulling him out with ease, shifting his boxers just far enough out of the way that they won’t be a nuisance and you’re slipping him inside you with no preparation.

It wasn’t like you needed it. You molded to him like the final piece of a puzzle, nothing but a soft release of breath shared between you both as you rock until you’re fully seated, hands pressed flat against his stomach for support, having shoved him down on his back with a force that has him laughing through a gruff expletive.

“Fuck,” He chuckles, “I’ll never get tired of this.”

This. You. All of it.

You nod knowingly, mouth hanging open in a quiet moan as your hips find a rhythm, alternating between a slow rock that catches your clit in a perfect pressure until Eddie gets slightly impatient, aiding in a subtle bounce until your ass is slapping against the front of his thighs at a hurried pace.

And it still isn’t enough, your body burning with desire. Your top comes off in haste, tangling with the shirt as Eddie slowly the pace for a moment, the material flying somewhere in the room haphazardly, a soft noise as it hits the floor and your fingers are struggling with the straps of your bra when it’s finally unclasped, all twisted up on the right side—your patience was wearing thin. 

Eddie’s nose wrinkles in amusement, coming to an abrupt halt when he can’t watch you suffer any longer. 

“Easy, easy.” He comforts you, amusement evident in his tone and face. He was enjoying this far too much. “That’s one of my favorites.”

“You say that about all of them.”

He can’t disagree.

“Because it’s true.” Eddie says defensively, “Every single one.”

You roll your eyes playfully, groaning when you resume the determined roll of your hips, clenching around the girth of him with every squeeze to your thigh, hips, watching as he falls apart beneath you so beautifully.

“That’s it,” He praises, eyes squeezed shut to focus, staving off the orgasm creeping up on him, “that’s good—so good, baby.”

Your head drops back, rhythm thrown out the window as you move wildly, aided by the unpredictable thrusts of Eddie’s hips. It’s the perfect view of your chest, the stretch of your body as you lean back in pleasure, moans following from your lips like a wave, gradually rising in volume.

“Always fuckin’ good for me,” Eddie admits, “shit—perfect. God, I can’t—“

“I can stop if—” You attempt, but god forbid Eddie let that happen.

“Don’t you dare,” He quickly deters you, “wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it.”

He’s still reeling from the morning high, cut too short and he feels like he’s ripping at the seams now, grabbing and panting into whatever bare skin he could reach as his thrusts falter, leaning up and pulling you toward him in the same motion, arms draping over his shoulders as he releases with a groan he’s been holding back, the tip of his nose running along your collarbone as he huffs in exhaustion, quickly dissolving into a laugh that turns into a full on giggle-fest, satiated by his own orgasm but feeling so giddy he can’t hold back.

And it’s infectious, your own soft laughs following as he pulls back enough to catch the blissful smile on your face, earlier conversations and arguments forgotten.

Eddie, however, is still very determined to prove you wrong.

He’s got his hands around your thighs before you can second guess yourself, hauling you up and over his chest, legs barricaded around his arms, knees pressed gently against the curve of his shoulder as he grins at you. 

It’s so devious it has you clenching around nothing but the slow drip of his cum as it threatens to slip out of you. His fingers press inside you gently, eyebrows furrowing at the sensation.

“Didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, huh?” Eddie teases, “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

For one, you knew he wouldn’t let up until he was satisfied, giving you as many orgasms as you could handle until you were begging for a break.

The word was silly in hindsight, a freudian slip that managed to tick Eddie off just enough.

Selfish. Oh, he would show you.

Your answer never comes, silenced by the wet, warm press of his tongue over your clit as his fingers moved inside of you, a dueling pace between rhythms that had you thankful Eddie was experienced enough to manage them separately, so effortlessly. He liked to hum a particular song in his head, which he’d admitted once, but he’s never clued you in to what it actually was.

It has you snorting behind your hand that night, muffling the laugh that slips past your lips. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest and that’s exactly why you’re so amused. 

It doesn’t take long either, fingers snagged tight around the curls at the crown of his head as you rock against his face, savoring the tiny grunts he releases, a sign that he enjoyed it just as much. You come with a sharp gasp, hips lifting up just enough that Eddie squeezes tight, not letting you wander far.

“Feeling okay?” Eddie asks after a moment, feeling your body settle.

“Yeah, yeah,” You respond shakily, “point proven, we’re even.”

“Oh…no,” Eddie argues playfully, “not even remotely close.”

You counter a look of disbelief, yelping when he shifts you suddenly and an arm is enveloping your waist to battle your current position and tucking you under him, a rough and calloused hand slapping at your thigh gently as he hikes it over his hip, a dull ache compared to the shaking, spasming muscles in your legs.

“I’m thinkin’ one, two—”

“Two?” Your eyes grow comically wide.

“Maybe three.” Eddie adds.

“Eddie.”

He knows it, that tone. 

“Swear you didn’t mean it?” Eddie asks, pressing a quick kiss between the valley of your chest, eyes flicking up at you, all soft and resembling a sad puppy.

“Swear.”

But, it doesn’t stop him from pulling another orgasm out of you, along with another of his own as he finds himself back inside of you, lazily guiding you both to that point.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[archer-fb]

Only for you mommy!

i need him rn, more like i needed him yesterday

A/N - the things i want to do to this man

cw - fem!reader, demon!reader, strap on, cock ring, butt plug, mommy kink, sub/dom, Akaza being a little needy boy, smut babyyyyy, degrading, praise kink, edging, aftercare, cuddles

You come home after a long day of demon slayers trying to kill you. You're annoyed as hell and ready to "blow off some steam".

Akaza hears you walk in, "Y/n! I'm in the bedroom!" he shouts. You rush to the bedroom getting impatient, and you enter seeing just a lovely site.

"All this just for me, Akaza?" you say just above a whisper. "All prepped and ready for me, baby? Have you been waiting for me all day just to get fucked by mommy's cock?"

"Y-yes mommy! Just for you!" he says needy, already a whimpering mess. "I n-need you mommy..."

"Mmm, maybe you should beg like the needy whore you are. Just waiting with a plug in your ass and a cock ring on. Such a needy little baby," you say loving every part of this.

"Please mo-mommy, please! I need you so bad, please! I'm so ready for you! Please, Mommy, do whatever you want to me! I'm all yours!" he whimpers loudly.

"Whatever I want huh? I'll be sure to do whatever I want," you say menacingly into his ear. You start off by finding the special box in your closet, you find one of your bigger strap-ons, one filled with such detailed veins. It happens to be his favorite one, not that he told you that, you just know. But you don't forget to grab your red ropes as a special surprise for him.

"Mommy pleaseeee~ I n-need to be with filled with your cock. Mommy please, I'll do anything. Anything you want," he says lust clouding his brain.

"Oh I'll be sure to do anything I want, baby" you say with a sultry smile with a dark look in your eyes. You hold up the ropes and shake them a little and you see his face drop just a bit. Though he's still drooling at the sight of your strap.

As soon as you get in reach of Akaza his hands are on you whining for you to touch him. You slap his hands away, "uh uh uh, baby, did I say you could touch me? You did say I could do whatever I wanted to you. Won't you be my good boy and let me do that?" you whisper into his ear holding his wrists above his head.

"Yes! I'll be your good boy, I promise! I'll do as you say!," he says squirming impatiently.

You quickly get to work on tying him up beautifully, making sure to outline his beautiful chest and crotch. You can't help but smirk as see him squirm and try to get out, but he knows better than to break out.

"Mmm you look even better now, baby. You're all tied up meaning I can have my way with you, and you can do nothing but take it. All you can do is sit here looking pretty while I use you as I please." you say while giving light touches to his dick laughing softly every time you see it twitch.

"M-mommy please just touch me, please. It hurts so bad." he whines pathetically, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

All it does is make you laugh more, "Oh?" you say feigning innocence, "Where does it hurt? Maybe here?" you circles his nipples, laughing as he shakes his head no. "Hmm, maybe here then," you say as you trace his abdomen.

"N-no! It hurts down there! Between my legs!" he shouts on the verge of crying.

"Use your words, baby, I'm not a mind reader." you say looking bored.

"My dick! Mommy, it hurts so bad! Please just touch me there." he whines with his pupils blown wide.

"Well all you had to was ask, honey" you say as you harshly grab his dick, squeezing and jerking him off as fast as you can. All while blowing air on his nipples just to seem him twitch more.

"Ahhhhh~ Mommy, cumming! Can I cum, please?" he says his eyes glazed over.

"Of course you can baby, you've been such a good boy after all," as soon as you say that he's cumming so much. His head leaning back, tongue hanging out of his mouth. He jumps as you start to move the butt plug in him.

"I-I'm still sensitive mommy! Ah~!" he says his eyes rolling back into his head.

"Oh honey... You said I could do anything I want to you, and I intend to do just that, now be a good boy and just take it." you whisper into his ear as you take out the plug.

His breath hitches as you immediately slam your strap deep into his ass, he cums on spot. "Oh hun, I didn't say you could cum, did I?" you tsk.

He shakes his head no and as he's about to start talking you cut him off with a sharp thrust and a grab of his hair and say, "Good boys don't cum without permission, which makes you a naughty boy. And naughty boys get punished."

"N-no mommy please! Please I don't wanna be edged!" he babbles incoherently.

"Well you should have thought about that a minute ago. baby" you say sinisterly.

~

"How many times have you been edged, baby?" you whisper into his ear

"F-four times, mommy, four times" Akaza replies weakly

"Good boy," you coo, "such a good boy for counting. I think someone deserves a little reward, hm? You wanna cum, baby?"

"Ye-yes! Please mommy! Can I cum? Pretty please~?" he whines breathly.

"Go for it, baby, been such a good boy," you hum while speeding up your thrusts. You play with his nipples just a bit more to get him there.

"Cumming~!" he shouts with his eyes rolled back and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Thick, white spurts of cum onto his shaking chest.

"Such a good boy for mommy, you did so good," you murmur into his ear pulling out. "I'm gonna clean you up then we can take a bath okay, honey?"

When you come back a few minutes later with a warm washcloth you see Akaza dozing off murmuring your name, "Y/n, come back."

"I'm right here, baby, right here. Now let's get you cleaned up then we can take a nice bath, that sound good?" you ask picking him up.

"O-okay, just please stay with me," he says softly before falling back asleep.

"I love you so, so much Akaza. My sweet, good boy," you say into his hair.

finally got this done, sorry if the second half is not as good im sick with covid, but i do hope you guys enjoy

[radiant-reid]

The Gingerbread Competition

Summary: A gingerbread competition gets serious at the Reids

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Navigation

Like many families, the Reids have traditions. They have the normal ones, like the birthday boy or girl gets to pick whatever they want for dinner, but they also have... unique ones.

It would be easy to see the annual gingerbread decorating competition as a normal tradition. It's pretty typical for families to do, but like everything about them, the tradition is odd.

"Which kid are you picking?" Spencer asks, walking into the bedroom to see his wife pulling on a Christmas-themed sweater.

It's only 8 am, but the game has begun. And it's a serious game. It started years ago when they first got together. Spencer felt like he wasn't bringing enough to the relationship with his minimal familiar traditions, so he made her a gingerbread house, just as she was making her own for him.

As naturally competitive people, a contest broke out, and the bragging rights and accolades exponentially increased.

It's Y/n's turn to get the first pick this year, and she's been training the troop of children to ensure she wins, and takes the crown from Spencer. "Morgan." She decides.

It's a quick choice. Outperforming her siblings by age and the smallest number of legos put in her mouth this year, Morgan Reid brings dedication and competitiveness to the table. Plus, she's interested in chemistry like her dad, perfect for a baking challenge.

"Who's your first pick?" She prompts, stepping closer to him so they're toe-to-toe in the middle of the bedroom.

"Toby." He chooses.

As expected. "Oh, I know all about your secrets, Reid." She says, pointing a finger at his chest. "Getting him that bridge building set for his birthday, training up your own gingerbread structural engineer."

Spencer doesn't deny it, knowing he's been caught. "Yes because I know you would pick Morgan, so I figured why not build my own secret weapon?"

She laughs at his description of their sweet five-year-old boy. "I'm taking Eden."

He gasps, recoiling in mock shock. "Ouch. That's low, Reid. Taking my little baby."

"You call them all your little baby." She reminds him, although she knows what he means. In her three Christmases, Eden has been on Spencer's team every time. Even for her first Christmas, at four months old, she was on his team.

"Still, in your attempt to cause me emotional distress, you've left me with Toby and Aspen. Twins. They are unstoppable together. It usually freaks me out when they work out of the same brain, but it's a double threat."

She shakes her head slowly and menacingly. "You know what else they do well together?" He shakes his head. "Argue. Morgan's so good with Eden."

He groans, throwing his head back. "Shit, I knew we split them up for a reason." He recalls. "Can we swap?"

"Do you think this is wrong?" She wonders, clenching her teeth. "Drafting our kids so we can compete?"

Spencer wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her body into his. "No. They don't know, and we don't love any of them more or less."

"Yeah, okay." She acknowledges what he's saying. "Now, let's get out there so I can destroy you."

He chuckles. "And our five-year-old twins."

She grins, moving out of his grip. "You're all going down." She hums happily, gesturing downward with her index fingers. "Prepare to be defeated."

He grabs her hands before she can leave, pulling her body right back to him. "Not yet." He hums, leaning down to kiss her. She deepens the kiss with her tongue sliding into his mouth before pulling away quickly. "Tease." He moans, trying to draw her back in.

"Come on, loser." She says, dragging him out of their bedroom. "It's time for you to lose."

They walk out to the kitchen hand-in-hand, announcing the teams to the four kids sitting around the kitchen island, who are eager to compete and completely unaware they've been drafted by their parents.

Then the baking and decorating starts, complete with trash-talking and heavy flirting between Y/n and Spencer. There's some sabotage, of course, and what Spencer calls chemical warfare because of an intelligent move on Y/n's part to 'accidentally' switch the labels on the red and blue food coloring.

"Okay, are you guys done?" Y/n asks team Nobel- named that because of Spencer's influence, not the twins'- as they put the final details on their houses.

Eden and Morgan made great teammates, and team Winner's gingerbread house is, in their opinion, a winner.

"To win? Yeah." Spencer says, pushing their house forward.

"Okay, sit behind them." Y/n directs the kids into the camera view. They sit on the bar stools with wide smiles as they wait to have their picture taken.

Spencer stands next to her out of the frame. "Smile." He cheers. "Then a silly one."

Both pictures get taken and then sent to the official judge to determine a winner. "Can we eat it now?" Toby asks, smiling hopefully as all four of them watch the gingerbread in awe.

"Hmm, I don't know," Y/n says, looking up at Spencer with mock thoughtfulness. "What do you think?"

"I think yes." He decides, snaking his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.

The four of them dive in, breaking the houses down as they grab a piece to eat. "This one's better." Eden determines.

"They're made with the same recipe, little one." Spencer reminds her.

"No, our one's better, daddy." Morgan backs her little sister up.

He pouts behind Y/n as he walks them closer to the countertop, picking some gingerbread up to feed to her. "It's pretty good." She agrees with what Morgan's saying.

"That was ours," Spencer informs her.

Before she can tell him off for tricking her, her phone chimes. "Oh, we have a decision." She says mysteriously, stirring up excitement as she takes her phone out. They wait eagerly for the answer in silence.

Spencer reads the text message over her shoulder: My sweet godchildren! I miss you all so much even though I saw you yesterday. And you know I hate this job since I'm going to upset half of you so please tell everyone that I adore both of the houses the same amount. However, I am slightly leaning toward the one on the left. Have an amazing Christmas, wonderful Reid family xx

"Aunt Penelope says we won!" Y/n tells Morgan and Eden, who cheer happily.

"But she loves both of them," Spencer adds.

They walk around the bench to hug the four of them, each picking up two of their children and embracing in one big family hug. "Go team Reid." Y/n and Spencer say in unison, leaning forward for a quick kiss while they celebrate the perfect moment.

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[ceilidho]

holy fucking shit i just went down a rabbit hole of your price prompts. ive always been a price fan but i think your work has just physically altered my brain chemistry to make me a price girly permanently. i love girldad tarzans dad price, and oh dont get me started on ex husband price. but could we please get some more bear shifter price? i feel like hed be the most feral and possessive of the 3. insisting on keeping you with him at all times becsuse youre so small and delicate compared to him. what if there was another bear or wolf?? your small town in the middle of the forest is known for travellors going missing after going off main roads. maybe it has something to do with the B&B you run for extra cash? why would you want strange men in your house like that, who knows what they eouldve done to you if he didn't take matters into his own hands. youre just too stupid and trusting to be out on your own, so its just the right thing to do isnt it? to take you in and keep you safe as his :)

ahhh thank you!!! also im SO SORRY this is from ages ago and ive been too anxious to really tackle my inbox but thank you so much :))) i finally have some ideas for an actual bear shifter!Price fic after chatting with a friend (before i was sort of struggling because i love the concept and vibes but couldn't think of like. a single plot point).

i do looooveeee (as i've said many a time) a fic where a scary, big man decides you aren't taking care of yourself well enough so it's his job to step in :\\ oohhh i love the idea of Price as a passing traveller who stops by your B&B for a night and decides he's actually going to stay there for much longer because it's just you in the middle of nowhere letting strange men sleep in your house and he's absolutely not happy with that. no man will try anything with you if he's sitting in the living room, staring at them menacingly.

[meetmyothersouls]

First Time for Everything

Chapter 2

Warnings: nightmares, vomiting, lots of talk of murder and vague mentions to cannibalism, strong language and imagery, I also changed this from second person to first person y/n (chapter one is in second person),

Snap-snap-snap

The sound grabs my attention, but I can’t focus on anything. It’s too dark. My eyes must’ve missed their chance to gradually adjust to complete darkness, allowing small shapes and figures to come into view. I can’t see shit. It’s a darkness I remember well but wish I didn’t. One that’s hungry and mean. It smells familiar. Like the scent of an unfortunate childhood.

Where am I?

Snap-snap-snap

It echos, bouncing off of walls that might as well be nonexistent. I squint my eyes, as if that will somehow make up for the lack of light in…wherever I am. Where’s the sound coming from? I turn my body. More darkness but this time there’s a door, only put into view by the light that’s shining from behind the frame, allowing the tiniest bit of soft yellow light to illuminate the darkness.

Snap-snap-snap

It’s louder now. More rapid and urgent. The light behind the door is interrupted by shadows. Four of them in what I realize are feet. Who do they belong to?

“She’s just a child,” a woman says. Her voice is soft and familiar.

“A child that needs to learn, Vanessa,” another familiar voice says. It’s one I should know. One I do know but I’ve locked in the farthest recesses of my mind. And Vanessa. I definitely knew a Vanessa.”

“Randall,” Vanessa warns. “Don’t hurt her.” She sounds nervous now and I find myself scooting on my ass desperate to get as far away from the door as possible.

Snap-snap-snap

This time the sounds are accompanied with something new. Shaking. I’m shaking. I can feel it.

“I’m not going to hurt her, dumb ass,” Randall says, his tone highly annoyed, like he’s talking to someone small and stupid and pathetic. “I’m going to teach her. A few minutes with me is all she’ll need.”

The door opens and I see Vanessa’s shadow on the wall as she leaves. Then Randall comes into view only I can’t see him. He’s just a massive shadow. A void in front of the yellow light of the hallway. He stands there menacingly, and I realize I’m still scooting away. I scoot, and scoot, and scoot but my back never presses against a corner or a wall or…anything. I'm trying so hard to get away, but I can’t. It’s like I’m moving backward on a treadmill with no end in sight. Then, the shadow lunges for me, his hands like claws fully extended and ready to-

“Y/N!”

Snap-snap-snap

I gasp and my eyes shoot open. I’m taking in gulps of air like I hadn’t even been breathing. I clutch my chest and sit up straight. It’s still dark but I can tell I’m in a car. Which is odd considering I’ve not been in a car in years.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man sitting in the drivers seat says. I know it’s Lee but my mind is fleeting so rapidly I can’t even look at him. I need to get out.

I jump, my heart pounding so quickly I feel like I’m about to vomit. I reach for the door handle of the moving car and pull.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Y/n, stop! Relax!” Lee's pulling me by my elbow which only makes me panic more.

“Let me out. Let me out. I gotta get out. Can’t breathe,” I say, gulping down air like it’s water.

“Okay, shit, I’ll pull over!”

He pulls over and I spill out of the car the before it’s fully stopped. I empty my stomach onto the ground as Lee puts the car into park. The car we stole. From the man he killed. And ate. Things start falling back into place and the events from earlier flood my brain. Lee slams his door, and I can hear his footsteps crunching against the gravel as he walks over to me. There’s still blood on his shirt. Immediately I gag, but nothing happens other than both sides of my ribcage painfully pressing together.

“Fuck,” Lee breathes out as if he’s exhausted. I look up at him and he’s running a hand through his hair. There’s blood caked under his fingernails. I gag again. “You good?”

“Your shirt,” I say though a shaky breath.

“What about it?”

“Can you get rid of it?”

“That’s the weirdest way I’ve been asked to get naked, but okay.”

“I don’t want to see you naked! Your shirt has blood on it from the man you killed!”

“ShhhHHH!!!” Lee shushes me. He’s starting to bring his filthy palm up to my face and I shake my head, baking away from him. “You can’t just scream that shit out loud, y/n, fuck.” Still, he takes off his shirt and laces it through a belt loop at his side. It won’ fix the disgusting state of his fingernails, but it will at least keep my gagging at bay. “And just so we’re clear, I killed him to save you. You’re welcome.”

Lee plops down onto the curb next to me. “You done puking? I wanna make sure I’m out of the splash zone.”

“I think I’m done,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I sit next to him and realize we’re on a highway. A dead one. It’s dark but not too dark, I can see my surroundings, which is nothing but highway for miles in between dense forest on both sides. Cicadas and crickets chirp in unison filling the night with their song. That’s enough to tell me we’re still in North Carolina.

“What was all that?” Lee asks.

“All what?”

“Well you whimpering in your sleep for starters.”

“I wasn’t whimpering!” I answer too quickly and way too defensively.

“Okay whatever the fuck it was, what was it?”

“I had a nightmare I think.”

Lee fishes a single cigarette from his pocket and lights it. “Damn,” he says after taking a long drag from it. He blows the smoke in the opposite direction of me. “Wanna talk about it?”

I open my mouth, then close it. I get nauseous even thinking of the pitch black room, the hauntingly familiar smell and voices. And the shadows. “Where are we?”

“About an hour away from Asheville,” Lee says, not seeming to mind my sudden change of subject. “Smoke?” He asks, holding his cigarette out to me between his thumb and index finger.

“Your hands are filthy.”

Lee takes his cigarette back and laughs. “You always this uptight?”

“Only after I see a man eat another human.”

“Ah you’re still stuck on that?”

“Of course I’m stuck on that! It’s not exactly normal, you know.”

“And yet you still got into a car with me. A stolen one at that.” Lee arches an eyebrow at me and smirks.

“Well, you saved me so.”

“So what?”

“I don’t know,” I say and stand back up. He’s getting on my nerves and I don’t know why.

“You and I,” Lee says straining his words as he stands up with me, “we’re not that different.”

“Oh yes we are.”

“Not really. Watch. You’ll see.”

“What do you mean ‘you’ll see’?”

Lee walks back to the car. He opens the door and stands on the the inside, resting his elbow on the hood of the car. “You hungry?”

I haven’t moved from my spot on the side of the road. I must have quite the expression on my face because he smirks at me again. And even though he’s filthy and a murderer I’m doing everything I can not to admit that he’s extremely attractive. I can’t get close to anyone. Definitely not someone like him. “What do you mean ‘you’ll see’?” I demand, I cross my arms and stand my ground.

Lee rolls his eyes, “I just mean you’ll see. Now come on, I want waffles and maybe a steak.”

Food sounds revolting to me right now. I don’t move.

“Jesus, y/n, what? You have somewhere else to go?”

I hate how he uses my name like he knows me so well. I hate that him saying my name at all does something to me it shouldn’t. He’s a murderer.

“Look,” Lee says pointing ahead of us into nothingness. “You can head that way into bum fuck nowhere or you can go back that way and go visit our little friend-well what’s left of him-back in that dumpster in Charlotte. And lemme tell ya, where there’s one of that guy, there’s hundreds. Walking around lurking in the shadows and you don’t even know they’re there or what they are until it’s too late. Or you can come with me. What’s it gonna be, y/n.”

He’s looking at me expectantly, knowing he’s already won. I sigh and make my way back to the car. I step over the mess I made and plop into the dirty passenger seat. We drive in silence for at least thirty minutes before Lee speaks up again. “Look, y/n, I’m not forcing you to come with me. If you’ve got somewhere to be or someplace you want me to drop you off just tell me, I’ll take you there.”

I look over at him, but he’s focused on the road, his dirty hands gripping the steering wheel. “Where are you going anyway?” I ask.

Lee shrugs, “I was gonna stop in Asheville first.”

“Why?”

Now he looks over at me. “I love it there.” He smiles and it’s a genuine one and I have to look away because it damn near melts my heart. “But if you want me to take you some place else first, I will.”

I sigh, looking at the blurry trees zipping by. I hope in my next life I’m a tree. “I don’t have anyone. Or anywhere to go.”

“No family?”

“No. Well none that give a shit about me.”

“No friends?”

“No.”

We’re both silent again, but it’s not the bad kind. It’s the kind that I’m comfortable with. And I can tell that he is too. Silence is golden.

“I knew it,” Lee finally says.

“Knew what?” I ask, taking my gaze away from the blur of trees to look at him again.

Lee turns and smiles at me, but this time I don’t look away. “That you’re a loner like me.”

We stare at each other for what feels like too long. Then, Lee shakes his head breaking out stare as he eases on the breaks and pulls into a Waffle House parking lot.

“Hope you like Waffle House,” Lee says as he clicks off his seatbelt. He walks around the car and opens my door for me, the action itself jarring. No one’s ever opened a door for me. I shove that thought to the back of my head, in a sad attempt to not let it do anything to me. He’d do that for anyone.

We scooted into a booth, Lee sitting across from me. “My sister and I used to come here all the time.”

I only nod as I look at the menu, choosing not to ask any follow up questions to his statement so that I don’t have to talk about my family in return.

“You got any siblings?”

I fight back a sigh. “Nope. Only child.”

“Really? Your childhood must’ve been lonely. My sister and I-”

The waitress, an old woman with frizzy blonde hair, shocking red lipstick and a name tag that read Deborah in handwritten cursive comes up to our table. She smacks her gum loud and I can see the lime green wad as she flicks it around with her tongue. As much as I am grateful she interrupted Lee’s family talk, I have to look away to keep myself from gagging. “What are you getting?”

“I’ll have the four waffles and a T-bone, medium rare, and a coffee. Black,” Lee says, practically salivating. Then looks over to me.

“Oh. Uh. I’ll just have a coffee I think.”

Deborah blows a massive bubble with her gum and looks at me like there’s got to be more to my order.

“I’ll give her one of my waffles,” Lee winks and hands Deborah our menus.

Deborah rolls her eyes and pockets her pen and note pad. Seconds later she brings back two steaming mugs of coffee. Lee drinks is straight apparently while I dump five sugars into mine and four of the tiny cups of creamer. In what seems like not long enough to cook an entire steak and four waffles, Deborah’s back in five minutes with Lee’s food and an extra plate for me. “Enjoy,” she says in a tone that sounds more like she hopes we choke on it. My stomach turns at the sight of the plate. Lee’s steak is sitting in a pool of brownish-red liquid. The bottom waffle in the stack of four is soggy with the blood and liquid that seeped out of the steak as it cooked. I look into my coffee to escape the sight.

“So-”

“Please tell me you’re going to wash your hands.”

Lee smirks. “Right. Of course. Be right back. That top waffle is for you if you want it.”

I wait until he’s in the bathroom to get up and grab a few of the pamphlets and maps in the stands at the front of the restaurant. For some reason knowing exactly where I am and where we could be going is grounding for me. I feel calmer, more in control. There are broachers for nearby landmarks and attractions. Gatlinburg, Tennessee, Dollywood, a zoo that’s a about an hour from this restaurant, a Georgia aquarium and various museums, several maps of the Smokey Mountains, and like Lee mentioned, Asheville, North Carolina. I grab them all. When I get back to the table, Lee is already seated and digging into his steak. He's already slid the top waffle onto my plate.

“Doing some research?” Lee asks with a mouthful of steak.

“Just like to know what’s around,” I admit.

He stops chewing and smiles, the meat a ball inside of his cheek. “Don’t trust me?”

I slide into my seat and poke at my waffle. “I’m not sure it’s safe to trust anyone.”

“But me specifically. Right now, you don’t trust me.”

I shrug. “Should I?”

“Are you afraid I’m gonna eat ya?”

I look around before ducking my head “I don’t think we should talk about this in public."

"It's 2:30 in the morning, y/n, no one's here but us and Deborah. Think about it, if I wanted to do something to you, anything, I could have by now. But you're sitting here in this fine establishment with me and you're not the one in a plastic bag in some random dumpster."

"You want me to trust you?"

Lee flashes me that stupid fucking smirk I'm starting to like a lot as he shoves a piece of steak in his mouth. "I'd like it if you did, yeah."

I poke at my waffle before grabbing the pitcher like container of butter pecan syrup and pour it on my plate. I look up and Lee isn't eating anymore. He's still got his knife and his fork in each hand but he's looking at me. Waiting. "Then explain it to me."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

Lee pushes his half-eaten plate to the side. He grabs all the condiments from our table as well as the salt and pepper shakers and pushes them into the center.

"I am so glad you asked. Allow me to demonstrate."

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

[escapetheshark]

Drunken Daze (part 1)

Bang Chan x reader smut MDNI 🔞

Part 1 | Part 2 | to be continued

I saw this prompt somewhere and the little cricket in my brain got excited. I'm not sure if I should like, actually write the actual smut? Sound off in the comments, besties? Yeah-

Anyway, you and your bestie Chris get munted and you confess you've never had an orgasm from sex with a man and he gets rightfully miffed and decides to take matters into his own hands (hehe I'm the queen of puns). Anyway, this is just the setup, Idk if anyone wants to read the actual smut bc I'm not sure I'm good at that bit. Well, I'mma shut up now, pls enjoy?

The room spun around as you stumbled your way to the sofa, spilling the contents of your glass in the process and laughing at your own clumsiness. No effort was made to clean up the mess and, instead, you simply brought the cup to your lips in hopes that some of the drink would have survived the ordeal.

"Felix is gonna kill you," he said in between heartfelt giggles, struggling to sit up straight for a minute until he just gave up and slouched.

"Not if I kill him first," you retaliated, as menacingly as you could muster in your current drunken state. "He's probably getting some pussy right now, he doesn't give a fuck."

"Wish that was me," he commented, half-jokingly. You laughed, but you could feel heat pooling in all those places you wished were being touched. "It's been a long ass time."

His confession came as a bit of a shock. Sure, he was short as fuck, slightly awkward, and had the weirdest sense of humour that not everyone could handle but, if one could look past those character flaws, your friend Chris was a heck of a catch: cute face but not so handsome it's intimidating, nice veiny hands, a six-pack and, to top it all off, a nice round booty. Not to mention the dimples when he smiled, his warm brown eyes, the way his voice went up an octave when he was excited, how he curled up in his sleep like a silly little cat and -

"Yeah, same," you simply replied, unsure of how long it had been since he spoke, your mind racing more than usual - perhaps it was the alcohol or the fact that you suddenly became aware that Chris was wearing the perfume you had gifted him for his birthday a while back, something musky and sensual with a hint of sweetness, just like the man himself. "And it's not like I've been having any good action, either."

You were ready to lay the subject to rest and suggest watching some dumbass show, like The Tiger King or something equally outrageous but your last confession seemed to hit your best friend like a brick to the face.

"You're saying your ex never made you come?"

You were glad he couldn't see your face because you could swear it had turned as red as a fire engine. "N-no," you stuttered, hyper-aware of your existence all of a sudden. "Nobody has, ok? It's not that uncommon-"

"It's a fucking tragedy, is what is it," Chris protested, sounding like an activist fighting for equal rights. Which, in a way, he kind of was - fight for your right to orgasm, which was actually pretty valid. "Men are a nightmare!"

The way his voice swelled up with passion was funny, you couldn't deny, plus he sounded genuinely appaled. You simply nodded in agreement, as if he could see it, and looked around for the bottle of rum. However, when you tried to get up to fetch it, your knees immediately gave up on you, much to Chris's amusement.

"I bet I could make you come," he said matter-of-factly and you froze in your tracks, unsure if you were hallucinating, checking your glass for some weird powders or something. "It can't be that hard, those dudes are just idiots."

You gave up on trying to climb back onto the sofa and just decided to lie down on the floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Chris's musings. He was probably just speaking out of his ass, plus you were both pretty intoxicated.

"I bet they didn't even kiss you properly," he continued, and you wished he'd shut the fuck up, because his words were genuinely destroying you a little. "Probably didn't even tell you you're beautiful and that your hair smells nice."

"Chris, shut up," you spat, no longer amused. "Why are you torturing me like this?"

"What do you mean," he asked earnestly. Standing up felt like quite the workout but you felt you had to do it in order to look him in the eye for once. He looked confused and awfully drunk, as expected, his brown eyes open as wide as physically possible, his lips slightly parted.

"I've been trying not to fall for you, you're making it damn hard," you confessed with a deep sigh, bottom lip quivering, tears forming in your eyes.

Instead of replying, his eyes lingered on yours for a painful while, before he got up and stumbled his way into the hallway. You wanted to cry, really cry and possibly sob even. Not only because you were horrendously unsure of what had just happened, but mostly because you were supposed to share his double bed with him and that would feel super awkward after your stupid confession, so you'd just have to drag your ass to his roomate Felix's bed and hope the blonde didn't randomly show up at 4AM high off his rockers, he was cool and all but you didn't know each other like that.

You blacked out, you sure did. Your back sore from napping on the cold hard floor, head still spinning but not as bad as before, stomach growling and your mouth feeling drier than a convenience store sandwich. Rubbing your eyes, you made your way to his kitchen, wondering if Felix was back already because sleeping on the floor or on that busted-ass IKEA sofa seemed like your worst nightmare.

"Come to bed, you silly goose," his voice startled you out of your skin and you nearly screamed.

"Fucking hell, Chris-"

Trying to brush him off, you took a pint glass from his cupboard and filled it with tap water which you proceeded to down before shamelessly stealing a pack of Tim Tams from his side of the pantry - you hoped it was his side, at least.

"Are you still drunk," you raised an eyebrow, finally capable of looking him in the eye for a bit before embarrassment settled in once more.

"I mean, a little, but I want you in my bed," he shrugged and had the audacity to give you his world-famous puppy eyes. Now you had to do whatever he said. Those sad little stupid eyes could convince you to commit murder, legit. "I prommy I won't do anything."

"What the fuck does that mean, Christopher?"

"I meant everything I said, but I wish I had said it in a less cocky, sober-er? More sober? Yeah… way. I guess."

You had to stop chewing on your Tim Tam to fully process what the fuck was happening in that godforsaken kitchen at ungodly hours of the night. "Listen, let's just get some sleep and-"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Chris, you're not thinking straight-"

But before you could finish your sentence, his lips were on yours and you had to swallow the damn biscuit -cookie?- quickly before giving up your dignity to kiss him back, immediately moaning into his plush lips and feeling like an absolute fucking tosser. You started to wonder if you were dreaming or hallucinating, especially when his hand cupped your chin like in some fucking Keira Knightley movie. He seemed deadset on getting another moan out of you because his other hand immediately roamed inside your shirt, his fingertips very gently grazing up and down your side, that particular super-sensitive spot he had once accidentally found when he tried to tickle you.

"F-fuck-" You couldn't believe how easy you were being and how shitty you'd feel the following day once the hungover had fully run its course and your brain was running optimally once more. "I love you-"

I done fucked up, you thought to yourself when his lips abruptly left yours.

"I'm gonna make you come so hard you'll be forced to say that again."

Without another word, he took your hand and guided you to his bedroom. You'd been there a thousand times, you'd slept on his bed next to him, you'd spent countless hours playing League of Legends with him in there yet, for some reason, it felt unrecognisable this time. Even though you had sobered up, you somehow still felt horrendously drunk, maybe drunk on him and his stupid sexy perfume - that you blamed yourself for - and his stupid curly hair and his dumbass muscular arms and…

"Say my name, baby," he cooed, voice gentle but deeper than usual, a hint of darkness in his throat.

"C-Chris. Christopher-"

He chuckled, blushing as if he felt a little embarrassed by his own desire to dirty talk you.

"You'll be moaning a lot more in a moment."

[shunshunrika]

Angst 10 + Fluff 2 + Fluff 8 + Kaiser

₊˚Ꮚ𓂅୨⊹ JAMAIS VU - Michael Kaiser

warnings - ANGST!! Depiction of car accident, blood, hospitals, swearing, etc.

The sound of deafening sirens, strobing red lights and the screams were overwhelming your brain.

Your hands were on the steering wheel and your eyes were on the road. You were wide awake and absolutely alert, even when listening to Kaiser softly ramble about his day at practice. Your eyes were on the road. Then how did it happen so quickly?

Kaiser had offered to drive home but since you were a new driver and needed practice, you had pushed to be the designated driver. You followed all the rules, were paying attention to all parts of the road and yet, when a semi-truck blasted towards you, possibly due to a brake failure - there was nothing you could do. You couldn't react fast enough. You couldn't move out of its way.

CRASHHH!

The sound of metal crushing metal was so thunderous that you weren't able to process anything before the airbags kicked in and smothered you in your seat. It was silent for a second when you felt the sensation of a heavy body weighing down on you and quickly scrambled to open the car door and crawl out on all fours. Your heart was beating so fast as you saw people run towards the scene of the accident and help you to your feet.

"Mi-Michael?" you asked, turning around to see if anyone knew anything.

"Call the police and the ambulance!" Someone yelled over the crowd.

You fought your way out of their arms to search for Kaiser. You couldn't spot him anywhere near the car until - your eyes fell on a bloodied mass laying underneath two gigantic slabs of car metal. You blacked out after that.

The sterile smell of a hospital room woke you after God knows how long. You lay in the bed, your body aching terribly, eyes wide awake. You jerked up out of your position and were just about to scream when a nurse caught you.

"Michael!? Where's Michael?" You shrieked, trying to escape the nurse's grasp.

"Ma'am-" the nurse grit her teeth. "Calm down. The man who was with you is currently resting. He survived and is stable."

He survived.

"Okay." you say, taking a deep breath and calming yourself down. "Can I see him?"

The nurse hesitated a bit. Bad sign.

"Show me. Take me there." you demanded upon receiving that reaction. The nurse reluctantly helped you to your feet and started guiding you down a lobby and two floors down. You were soon in front of the suites marked "Special Unit"

"Ma'am, I need you to remain calm." the nurse insisted yet your heart wouldn't calm down. You opened the door slowly to see a figure propped up on the bed.

It was Kaiser. He was staring out the window, sitting under a blanket. He looked alright except for some bruises and cuts here and there. He didn't notice any of you come in. Or maybe he did but had no intention to look in your direction.

"Michael?" you asked tenderly, stepping towards him. He looked towards you with glassy blue eyes that bore absolutely no emotion.

"Why are you here?" he asks.

"W-what's wrong? I came to see how you are doing?" you said maintaining your composure but gulping down a big lump.

"Hmm." Kaiser thought for a bit. Maybe he was fine. Maybe he was just tired.

"My legs are completely crushed."

Huh?

"The doctor said I might not be able to walk, let alone play again."

What?

You must have started losing your balance because the nurse immediately moved to catch you.

"M-Michael what are you talking about?" you managed to say, your stomach dropping so low, as if you were about to throw up.

"Didn't you hear me the first time?" Michael said, smiling menacingly, looking like he was about to breakdown.

"I CAN'T PLAY ANYMORE, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he shrieked making you flinch.

"W-wait. Michael. I-That's not it. Maybe-"

"I should have never let you drive. I told you to let me. This is all your fault!"

"Michael, maybe we can consult another doctor. Maybe we can fly out to another country to try. We have the money for that-"

“Nothing you do will fix things; no amount of money will turn back time.” he hissed through his clenched up jaw.

"Get out of my sight." He spat. "I never want to see your face again."

When you heard those words, your heart shattered into a million pieces. The room started to swirl around you, and you didn't know if you were going to pass out. The shock was so severe that you were thrown out of this scene, Michael and the nurse becoming blobs until they disappeared into the void.

"Hah.. N-no!" you found yourself gasping for air as you woke up, drenched in sweat.

"Y/N." Michael was right beside you, holding your forehead and looking extremely concerned.

"MICHAEL!" you yelled out, hugging him by the neck and making him fall on top of you.

"I am sorry. I am sorry!" you pleaded. "Don't go. Don't leave me. I- We will do something about your legs. So please, don't say you hate me!"

"Y/N!" Michael yelled back. "What's wrong? What happened? You were asleep!"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you were mumbling at first and then you started tossing and turning." he said, rubbing your back to calm you down. His blue eyes bore concern, stark comparison to the emotionless orbs you saw in the dream.

"Your legs!"

"What happened to them?" he asked, confused.

"I crashed the car. Your legs got crushed. They said you'd never walk again." you said between gasps and sobs.

“Shhh, it was just a bad dream. It’s okay, baby.” he said, caressing your hair to calm you down. It helped to some degree.

"Michael-" you began. "Never let me drive when I'm with you okay? What if this is an omen?"

"You kidding?" Michael scoffed. "You think a nervous perfectionist like you would ever make a mistake on the road? You've never even driven one mile over the speed limit. If something happens, it's the other person's fault."

"No! You'll say that and then- then-" you gulped. "In the dream, you said you never wanted to see me again. You hated me!"

"I can never hate you Y/N." he said, kissing your forehead.

"And my destiny is to be the best striker in the world. I ain't losing my legs before that, got it? I reject the notion." he said, smirking at you, making you giggle a little.

“Stay with me, please." you said, cupping his cheek.

"Forever." he said, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

[poisonpeche]

The Promise | Levi x You

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors Do Not Interact, NSFW, SQUIRTING, Being honestly, truly nasty as fuck, dacryphilia, anal play, impact play (one consensual slap), vaginal fingering, degradation, Levi & Reader are switch.

Header is my art that you can see more of here!

A sheen of his own pathetic saliva catches the glow of the room’s light, clinging to his chin with glazed eyes barely open in shock.

Your fingers still sopping wet from the gag you forced into his smart mouth, throat desperately constricting, lashes laden thick with his tears that are now yours as you delicately lick them away, sliding one by one down his flushed cheek.

Somehow he still won’t shut up.

But could you really say you want him to? Every word dripping off his tongue carried by his dark voice has you writhing for more. More friction. More of his touch. You’ll take it all. And you do, because you’re his…

“Sweet girl,” he raggedly breathes out into your neck, stuttering breaths against your skin betraying his own power struggle for control again. He’s actually trying to compose himself. He’ll pay for trying.

His jaw unbearably shakes with anticipation once you temporarily withdraw your urges to overpower him. Adrenaline seeps into his brain. Maybe he can win. Just this once. You’ll let him think he can. It’s half the fun after all. You can be sweet…right?

His burning skin is still pressed behind you, spooning you on the bed, arm snaked underneath your knee, folding it to your chest on your side. The forced vulnerability of your pose makes your mind reel, plunging you into the security of your own yield.

“For you, I’ll try.” Feigned meekness isn’t your strong suit, but it’s music to Levi.

“You don’t have to. Not like this,” he gathers up what you’ve offered you both so far, gently smearing your slick over your lips, painting you.

He has an obsession with the high of your body. The smell, the taste. He offers it to you and your lips part. His eyes never leaving yours with pupils blown wide like dark pools.

As soon as you begin to sink into submission, getting lost in his control, your eyes snap open and you call his game off. You quickly reach up and snatch his lower jaw through his lips, curling your fingers around his bottom row of teeth, holding him hostage and his eyes plead for mercy.

You sit forward pulling his entire body up by your bit. He shamelessly whimpers in your clutch, scrambling into a kneel before you, sitting on his feet with back arched in a sharp bow as you tower over him now.

“That’s right, Levi. You’ll get this pussy, if you make due on that promise. Now what’s my baby going to do.” His cock throbs untouched and he’s just as wet as you now. Your snicker fanning over the drying tears on his face. You miss them already.

He strains his voice incoherently on your fingers, you look on menacingly not even trying to hear his words, and he bites down in frustration.

Your other hand flys up, grabbing his hair and yanking him roughly back and he falls off his heels, ass flush on the bed in between his folded legs on either side of him with ankles splayed outward. The movement exposes his gorgeous neck in the dim light, lips gaping, lungs gasping for air like he just breached the surface in time. If his first breath is laced with the smell of your pussy, he’d die a happy man. He swallows deeply, throat bobbing in regret as he keeps his gaze locked on you from his side eye. It’s your game now.

“How dare you snap at me, Levi.” You unhand his mouth with a sneer, letting it fall open.

“J-just hit m-”

The smack echoes throughout the room and his head flies to the side in your follow through. He pants, chest heaving as you meet his desperate demand. The red mark already burning to the surface of his skin as he looks up at you through the side of his eyes again.

“Why didn’t you just ask nicely, baby? Now stop wasting my time and get on your hands and knees.”

He kneels further down, looking up at you with doe eyes and wet lashes framing the tender, innocent look on his face.

“You did this. Now, what are you going to do, Levi?”

He blinks away more tears in awe of you. The sting blooming on his skin, a reminder.

“God…you’re…s’beautiful,” he slurs between pants eyes locked on you, staring up through his lashes.

“I didn’t ask that, baby.” You gently tap the crimson mark on his cheek, causing him to wince and bite back a moan. “Now, tell me. I know you can.”

He blinks away the innocence in his eyes, steeling his expression as cold as the irises glaring up at you.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til you come down my throat. That’s a promise.”

As you throw your head back to taunt him your eyes roll back under covered lids.

“God, you’re disgusting.”

And with that? He’s had enough, lunging at you like an animal from his prone position, catching you off guard as you’re distracted with insulting him. He throws you back on the bed, quickly grasping your ankles, pulling you down flat towards him. Now, he hangs over you, straddling your thighs.

“Wait until I make you the same fucking way,” he growls, grinding into you, hips rolling, and he feels you through your panties, smearing your slick with the precum on his dick, marking you. “Or are you already? Sweet girl…selfish slut.” He laughs darkly into the air thick above you.

He encases your throat in his soft hand, squeezing gently and stifling your moan as he moves down your body, past your navel, biting you and dragging his snarled mouth toward your lips, taking one in his teeth and pulling, watching it bounce into place, slapping into your wet inner thigh.

You groan at the pain and his breath fans over your pussy, shaking before him.

“You’ve never broken one,” your voice trembles.

“What, my love?”

“A promise.”

“I don’t plan to, sweetheart. Not with you.”

He dives into you. Pulling your swollen clit into his mouth, sucking gently and still managing to lick in small, concentrated circles around you inside his mouth. He cries out at the taste and the heat and pressure of his breath nearly throw you over the edge.

A decade together and he knows exactly how to play you. You talk a big game, but he’ll have you screaming soon.

He releases you in an instant as you buck your hips into his mouth and he-

Slap. You violently jerk against his hand as an inhuman noise escapes you deep within your chest.

Slap. Your pussy practically cries out in return, running down your ass and soaking the bed before him.

Before he can lightly hit your cunt again you grab his wrist in warning.

“Levi, I…I-I can’t.” Now, you’re heaving.

“Folding so fast, hm? I thought you were better than that.” He laughs into your dripping slit and you clench in front of him while he nuzzles into your thigh, hiding his smirk and his moan of utter disbelief.

“You’re the nasty one. Look at you, I wish you could see yourself fucking clenching like that, God. You said you’d try to be sweet for me, right?”

You sheepishly nod as you release his wrist and he hovers over your lips again.

“Then behave.”

Your thighs nearly clamp down over his ears in reaction to his command and he throws them off, pinning them flat into the bed.

He growls your name in the back of his throat, seething. His eyes rake over your writhing body in disappointment. You’ll learn to listen or maybe you’ll just regret disobeying him this time. His patience has worn thin. Just like the line of your arousal that breaks as he toys with your slick against the light, mesmerized.

He licks his fingers and slips below, circling the rim of your ass. He pushes in unceremoniously. Your whines speak for him.

A beat passes and he waits for you to adjust-

“Well?”

You can’t be serious with that fucking attitude of yours…He’s tempted to break you with your back talk as he looks on incredulously, moving forward, resting his cock on your clit. The only friction you’ll get is the faint jumping of his dick with each pretty noise you make as he stretches you open.

“Well, what? Did you have something else to tell me? Or were you just gonna sit in your own mess tonight…you filthy thing.”

And with his words, more begins to trickle between your legs and onto his plush hairs below.

That does it, and whatever he had planned is abandoned…All that matters now is feeling you convulse on his tongue.

He pushes the backs of your thighs up, hooking them over his shoulders with his chin resting on the damp sheets. He’s half tempted to nuzzle the side of his face in them, covering himself in you. Instead he licks the fabric beneath you, then moves upward, over your ass, and deep into your slit. He pushes his face so far into you his tongue is nearly inches away from that spot that’ll have you incoherent in his arms.

His sharp nose nearly suffocated in your pussy and you have the audacity to grind against it, riding him shamelessly while he drowns in the sounds your skin makes against him.

He comes up for air, rolling his eyes softly open with heavy lids, and he peers past your lips, the dips of your hip bones, your hardened nipples, and into your eyes.

He couldn’t care less about how rough you are with him when you look at him like that. Pure adoration. He can smell the love you have for him seeping through your very skin. He can’t help but be soft when your eyes meet. So much so it’s hard to keep up the act. You always reveal your truth there even when you want to live out your filthy fantasies fucking yourself on his tongue. He’ll give you what you want. Whatever you want. As long as he can have you like this.

“Keep looking at me like that.”

You break eye contact, looking away.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, love. I wanna see you. Do it for me.”

Your eyes roam back into place locking the steeled gaze.

“There’s my baby. I don’t want you to miss a damn thing.”

Two fingers slip into your entrance without resistance and one deep into your ass. His other hand reaches up to your nipple pinching hard.

Overwhelmed at every sensitive spot on your body, you begin to shake uncontrollably against his thrusts, swelling against his fingers reaching so deep inside you.

“Levi.”

He doesn’t relent, ignoring you. You deserve this after all the shit you put him through tonight.

“Levi, please,” you beg and he begins to pull your clit into his mouth again while he thrusts into both entrances.

You grab onto his hair in protest, but it’s too much, too fast.

“Stop, Lev-!” You scream aloud.

He immediately pulls away in complete surprise, and the sight below him that catches his eye? The eroticism of it all has him seeing stars.

The first wave slides all the way down his forearm and his eyes widen in absolute shock.

“Fuuuck…fuck yes. Baby please, keep going,” he begs you as if you’re fucking him.

You look down in exasperation and see him with his eyes rimmed red with dried tears, the mark a deep red on his face, mouth open, tongue out, waiting for you.

As you lock eyes together again, another wave pummels through you landing in a stream on his tongue, down his throat, just the way he fucking wanted. Pretty.

He nearly bites his own tongue to catch all that you give while you thrash against the sheets, crying out for the love of your life.

No one keeps a promise like he can.

***

Previous Chapter

@peace-for-levi this one’s for you, baby 🖤

[wolffoxnation2]

here's the w.i.p for ToL chp 2 so far (I have rewritten it multiple times now)

Can i please get constructive criticism or something because my brain keeps screaming at me to scrap it all and rewrite it again.

-----

I woke up in a bed with an elf pointing runes at me menacingly, one of my spawn scowling at me, and a dwarf pointing a harpoon at my face.

So basically a typical Saturday for me.

I couldn't get much of a look at where I was because of the weapons in my face, but I seemed to be in a guest room. The walls were white, and the only other furnishings were another bed and a shabby wooden dresser.

Well, this room was devoid of any personality, so I must've been in the home of my (probably dead) good friend, Randolph.

"Good morning," I said casually, gently pushing the harpoon away from my face with the tip of my finger. "Or is it evening? And get that out of my face, please."

"I thought you were in the walnut!" Alex yelled accusingly, as if it was my fault I wasn't in a walnut. Why would I even be in a walnut?

I rolled my eyes. "Can't a mother just want to spend time with his favourite son or daughter? Ever thought of that?"

Alex was, in fact, not my favourite daughter or son, alive or dead, but Alex did not need to know that.

"Quality time? You tried to kill us!" Alex snapped. "And it's son today, mom."

He said Mom like someone would say a very bad swear. Which, considering Alex's extensive vocabulary, tells me a lot about how much he loves me.

"Oh, build a bridge, son! You're already dead!" I snapped back, saying son the same way he said mom. Which was probably not the right thing to do or say in that situation.

Alex lunged at me and none of the others made an attempt to stop him. Thankfully, he wasn't holding his garrotte wire (which I technically gave to him, by the way), or I would have had a very bad case of decapitation.

I dodged....and rolled off the bed.

Yeah, not my best idea.

My bones made another sickening crunch as my body connected with the floor, and I debated whether or not my survival was worth it.

I managed to sit up against the wall. "Wait wait wait!" I put my hands up in surrender, "Just hear me—ouch—out".

"Never!"

"Fine."

Everyone looked at Magnus in surprise, including me who didn't think that'd actually work.

"What?" The dwarf almost dropped his harpoon, "Kid, you can't be serious!"

"Please be serious," I said, "don't be a douche." He could just pretend to want to help before going HA SIKE! And running his sword through me. Even though I knew that would be very un-Magnus-like. He's a healer. He doesn't do stuff like that.

"We should hear him out—"

I grinned. "Thank you, Magnus Chase!" I side-eyed my son, who was scowling at me from the bed, "At least someone wants to listen to me!"

"Shut up," Magnus said, he looked at me for a moment, his stormy grey eyes looking me up and down. "Your ribs are broken," He said finally, "I'll heal you, only if you swear on your troth to not hurt anyone here."

My grin widened, this kid was an idiot, he doesn't know I don't care about stuff like troth. 

I put my hand to my chest, "I swear by my troth that I won't hurt anyone in this room—"

"On this property, Mother" Alex rudely interrupted, "Your tricks won't work here".

If he was doing this to anyone else I would have been almost proud of the fact that he caught on to that.

Magnus smiled at him and—Oh my gods well isn't that interesting. You see dear mortals. That wasn't a friendly smile that was a loving smile. It seems my little snakelet has got himself a boyfriend. Very interesting, I could use that against them both later.

I shoved that thought to the back of my mind.

"I swear by my troth that I won't cause harm to anyone on this property" I amended.

[embossross]

From His Mind to Yours

Chapter 1 >> Chapter 2

✣ Pairing: Hanma x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+, minors DNI; unhealthy relationships & dark content

✣ Chapter CW: very very bad therapeutic practice; sexual harassment; references to masturbation; references to murder/drugs/violence

✣ Story CWs: patient/doctor relationships; sex (oral, ptv, pta, etc.), degradation, torture (not of y/n), and many more that I don't know yet

✣ Synopsis: Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

✣ Word Count: ~5k

A row of crude teeth marks mangles the shape of your pen. Do you nibble when you’re distracted? Agitated? Hanma waits for you to reveal the particulars of this tell. It’s Chekhov’s gun. Yet in the fifteen minutes since he first catalogued this weakness of yours, your pen has never strayed towards your menacingly, orthodontically straight teeth. It’s Chekhov’s gun but filled with blanks.

Hanma credits himself with a particular skill in reading people. He doesn’t worm his way into their head like Kisaki might or intuit how to inspire blind loyalty like Mikey. No, Hanma’s superpower is picking apart a person’s weaknesses. One. By. One.

You, however, are constructed so carefully, the gummy rim of pen is the only sign you have a beating pulse.

When Kisaki ordered him to see a shrink, Hanma obliged because obeying Kisaki is second nature after a decade as his number two. Time and again, Hanma has followed Kisaki blindly into battle or business. Nearly every time – especially in those early years – he was rewarded for it. So here he is.

Maybe filling the hours with the sound of his own voice in a sterile office is not going to relieve his demons, but orders are orders. Today’s order is to attend therapy.

While you explain to Hanma the particulars of your credentials – blah blah, top university, blah – he sizes you, his shiny new therapist, up and finds you lacking. You are young, probably overeager to prove you can rehabilitate one of Tokyo’s most wanted. An impersonal office to match your bland, impersonal clothing; conservative, probably to appease the sex freaks that frequent your office. Over-groomed with bobby pins digging into your scalp and threatening a migraine, nylons that would never dare tear, manicured nails with clear polish. You are pretty despite your best efforts to hide it. Still, there is something about the way you move, performative in your restraint.

You are either the most confident person Hanma has ever encountered or the most wildly insecure.

If you would just nibble on the damned pen, he would have his answer.

“I prefer to speak with the friends and family of my patients before sitting down with them for the first time,” you say – maybe the fourth time you’ve impressed this fact upon him in his brief time in your office. “And Kisaki-san told me that you haven’t been sleeping well. Have you ever visited a doctor for insomnia?”

“No.”

One-word answers. Just enough that Kisaki can’t accuse him of refusing to cooperate.

“Do you take anything prescribed for insomnia?”

“No.”

“What about self-medicating? Or…does your trouble sleeping correspond to the use of any stimulants? Maybe Methamphetamines?”

Hanma refuses to give you credit for a lucky guess. The meth could be classified as a pleasant mistake. The temporary brain bliss is almost as pleasurable as feeling his fist collide with skin, or the rush when a person’s skull turns concave under the force of his knuckles. It’s why he started using.

It also happens to make him trigger happy, neurotic and perpetually late to meetings. Hanma suspects the latter was the last straw for Kisaki. Overkill is one thing but tardiness? Kisaki is running a business after all.

“Mostly meth but also cocaine, Diazepam, weed, LSD. I could go on. I sell it by the kilo, might as well dip a finger in on occasion,” Hanma says.

You raise an eyebrow at his use of the word ‘occasion.’ The vast undersell of his drug use is visible in the effects from just last night’s bender. A suit and coiffed hair may fool the average person, but the telltale signs are there. Even now, he feels a stab of alertness from a popped Ritalin downed with vodka to dull out the edges.

“What about appetite? I heard mixed opinions from your colleagues. Some swear you should be dead from starvation at this point, others that you eat like a horse,” you say.

“You’re an educated woman, so you know the proverb: ‘eighth-tenths full keeps the doctor away,” Hanma says, only realizing afterward that he’d intended not to respond to your questioning.

“And methamphetamines suppress the appetite,” you say dryly. “How often do you drink?”

Hanma notes that you haven’t written anything he says down in the notebook resting on your knee. The pen is not just unchewed but unused. Paranoid, he does a quick scan for any bugs that might be recording this session instead. That would be a fatal mistake on your part.

“I drink as much and often as you think,” Hanma says.

You don’t comment at Hanma’s lack of answer or at his strange behavior as he pats beneath his chair to confirm a bug isn’t glued to the bottom. Satisfied that there’s no other place to hide in your practically empty office, he relaxes back in his seat.

“How would you describe your sex drive?”

The barrage of questions bring to mind a flood memories. Remembers his cheek bruising against a police desk and wrists chafed raw from handcuffs as his freedom is dangled like a toy. Hanma despises the arrogance and ritual of interrogations; the interrogator asking the wrong questions, smug on a god-complex that promises Hanma will break and spill his guts under glaring lamplight. Shut up and lawyer up is what Toman advises. Except, Hanma always leans into his interrogations, snapping and seething at the police and prosecutor until their questions trip frightened off their tongue and the power is thoroughly reversed in his direction. Therapy, it seems, will be no different.

Hanma adjusts his long legs wider, a manspread that immediately drew the eye straight to his groin and grins.

“Looking for a first-hand demonstration, doc?”

Your eyes flicker briefly to his crotch, and Hanma’s cock answers with a twitch. The victory arouses every part of him. It does not hurt that you are a meal for the eyes either. If he saw you at one of Toman’s many clubs, Hanma would not hesitate to press you to your knees for him. Cold as your eyes are now, Hanma suspects they would liven up when pooling with tears and panic.

“It’s a basic diagnostic question,” you respond coolly.

“See, but I don’t appreciate you wasting my time on questions when you know the answers. You spoke to Kisaki before, yeah? Which means you know full well that I fuck and kill and shoot up and all the rest,” Hanma drones, unfeeling even on the verge of speechifying. “You have a rulebook you’re following. I get it. You’re young. Maybe Kisaki should have found someone more experienced because I have better things to do than cry to you about how hard my childhood was. I was a bad boy, and now, I’m a bad man.”

“My age bothers you?” you say, glomming onto the question of your competency and leaving the rest behind as if it means nothing. Typical. “I’m only one year younger than you are. Do you believe you need another dozen years’ of experience to excel at your job?”

“I’ve left a trail of cold cases to prove just how good I am at my job, sweetheart.”

“And I’ve left a trail of happy patients to show how good I am at mine. Hanma-san, tell me, why do you think we’re here today?”

The clock above your desk shows another fifteen minutes in the day’s session, and Kisaki will be up his ass if he leaves early. None of the staples of a therapist’s office – bonsai tree, swinging balls, abstract art – are present to distract him. For the next quarter hour, Hanma will be trapped in a room as bland as a prison cell with a hot but painfully boring therapist.

And Hanma hates to be bored.

There’s nothing better to do than lean into the cat-and-mouse game, see if he can lure his sweet therapist into a trap.

“A trick question? The mind games are beginning already, huh, doc?” Hanma sneers. “I suppose I’m here so that you can finally put a diagnosis on what everyone already knows. Name what makes me such a monster to polite, tax-paying citizens like you.”

“Except, you’ve been working for more than a decade with Kisaki-san and never once has he suggested you see a therapist before, correct? I’ve heard in depth from your colleagues about your behavior. They call you belligerent, impulsive, manipulative, cold. Basically, they sing your praises. Say you’re a natural at your job, one of the best in Tokyo. Why would your boss decide those traits are a problem now?” you counter.

“I’m blushing,” Hanma says, mostly to save time as he thinks through your analysis. There is a reason he saw such immediate success when he joined the delinquent world, and even as Kisaki led Toman into the realm of organized crime, the skillset remained the same. “If you have all the answers, then share them with the class. What is wrong with me?”

“Wrong with you? Well, I suppose that’s a matter of perspective. It’s too early to diagnose you with anything, but informally, I’d say you’re a closed and shut case of Anti-Social Personality Disorder.”

“You’re diagnosing me with psychopath?”

“I’m leaning sociopath based on the interviews I conducted with your colleagues. But the distinction isn’t as relevant as the TV shows pretend. I’d say you meet the criteria if ASPD, just about a text-book case,” you say, matter of fact in a way that other patients might appreciate hearing bad news.

The label followed Hanma throughout the years. A rotating retinue of losers have called him a psychopath and then met the unlucky side of his gun or the punishment of his knuckles. The appellation doesn’t offend him, but neither does it resonate with him. Hanma never did care for TV or movies, but the serial killers and stalkers that haunted the public’s collective imagination are familiar to him, and he can’t relate. He has never once considered dismembering a civilian just for the sake of it or stalking a co-ed for the thrill of her screams. What he loves most is a fight against an opponent worthy of him, the risk to his own life that gets his blood rushing.

Still, Hanma knows that he sees the world differently than other people. It is almost like he walks through life wearing sunglasses. He and the average person see the same shapes, same sizes, but there is a distortion to the color, something only Hanma can see, and others miss. In his darkest hours, he admits it could be the reverse. Maybe he is missing what others find so obvious.

“The clinical definition of someone with ASPD has changed significantly over the years. How I like to think of it is sociopaths have a muted ability to empathize with other people. Not necessarily a complete inability – and in fact, your colleagues seem to believe you do hold care for a select few – but you don’t feel it as intensely or in the same way as most people. As a result, you engage in behaviors that make you struggle to fit into society. That’s actually a part of the diagnostic criteria. Criminality, manipulation, risk-taking or other behaviors that make you struggle to become say an office worker but make you excellent at…whatever you’d call your job. The destructive becomes constructive. We could spend weeks in this office trying to lessen your violent impulses, but for what? So you can be slower to kill for the Tokyo Manji gang? I don’t think Kisaki-san would thank me for that.”

Broadcast news and preschool teachers delude the masses with the promise that violence and criminality are the playground of a small, chronically ostracized group of poors and crookeds. The button-ups that go to the office every day, the housewives, and store clerks, they all trade in empathy and love and rainbow kisses or some shit. Hanma knows this is a lie. He has seen time and again the sadism of the everyman.

So, your mercenary assessment of sociopathy does not surprise Hanma, but it does intrigue him. He wonders how you would score on a psychopath test. Whether there is any feeling harbored behind your icy veneer.

If he slid his hand beneath your blouse and kneaded his finger over your breast, would you have a heart?

“So, I’m a high-functioning sociopath, and you wouldn’t change a thing about me. I’m flattered. That still leaves us with the mystery of why I’m here.”

“Is it really a mystery? You seem to have an idea.”

“Well, there was an…incident four months ago. I don’t want to sully your pure ears with the details,” Hanma purrs. He hopes your imagination fills in the blanks with the most savage scene imaginable. Even then it probably wouldn’t be as gruesome as the damage he left behind. It was sloppy and cost Toman a fortune to bribe the right officials to ignore.

“Anything you say to me here is covered by doctor-patient confidentiality. I am mandated to report if you present an immediate danger to yourself or others, so I would prefer you not tell me if you intend to leave her and commit a murder presently. That said, these walls don’t talk and neither do I, regardless. It’s just a preference,” you say, pointlessly.

Hanma knows full well you won’t talk. He will personally make sure of it.

“I’ve heard of mob lawyers, now get ready for mob therapists! How very new millennia of you,” Hanma guffaws. “Without going into the details, I saw an opportunity to win a negotiation with a powerful business partner. They had offered a deal that Kisaki accepted. The terms were set. I saw an opportunity with a little candid discussion to further sweeten the terms. I was right, of course. Our deal today is far more generous in our favor. But the aftermath of the conversation was a bitch to clean up and attracted some unwarranted attention from our friends at the Tokyo police department.”

To your discredit, you don’t react with a hint of fear to this confession. So far, his only success provoking you was when he questioned your credentials. He won’t forget that useful information.

“Impulsivity and risk-taking are typical in people diagnosed with ASPD. The research is actually interesting on the subject. It suggests that you could feel regret for the choice, especially if you face negative consequences, but you likely couldn’t use that regret to prevent yourself from making the same mistake again.”

“Like a toddler that burns his hand on the stove Monday and is dumb enough to do it again on Tuesday?” Hanma demands.

You don’t realize how closely you’ve danced to the edge with him. He meets people like you every day. You aren’t half so interesting as to excuse an insult, and he would have you crying for your life before you insulted him again.

“In over-simplified terms? Sure. There are two primary theories to explain the impulsivity and risk-taking behaviors of someone diagnosed with ASPD. The first is that your brain is just wired differently. The same brain rewiring that damages your empathy is also dampening your self-control.”

Hanma scoffs.

“I see you don’t care for that theory. My feelings exactly,” you agree. “I think there’s a simple explanation, and it’s why we’re here today. I think people diagnosed with ASPD – I think you, Hanma-san – are bored.”

Eagerly, you lean forward. Here, at the big reveal, you tip your hand and show your excitement. Your eyes are brighter than he’s ever seen them. Professional victory has thawed you and revealed the young woman, the human.

“Bored…is that a professional diagnosis?” Hanma asks.

“Funny,” you say, and it sounds like you mean it. “The other side of the boredom coin is depression. We’d need to run through the diagnostic criteria before I can diagnose you officially, but I bet you qualify. In fact, I bet that when you wake up on a lazy day, one where you have no morning appointments, nothing to organize your morning, you lay in bed for minutes at a time, unsure what to do. Should you take a shower? Watch porn? Make breakfast? Shoot up? Call someone? Who? How do you decide what to do with your day, when every option promises the same yawning boredom as the next? How am I doing so far?”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Follow me, Kisaki had promised. Follow me and I’ll make your life exciting. At fifteen years old, Hanma had almost given up on life. A high school dropout, he watched boys his age jerking off to cartoons and crowing over the trials and tribulations of their school club, and wondered what universe they were living in. Hardly anyone could reach him. Even the other delinquents offered only the occasional challenge.

Kisaki entered his life and presented something valuable: stimulation. He taught Hanma to slow down and appreciate the build up to the big moment. The calculated staging of a plot to destroy someone else, culminating in the delicious high of battle, the last-minute pivot as your enemy reacted in ways you couldn’t predict. It kept him alive and entertained for years. But now…

…Now, Toman sits atop the criminal world as the uncontested conqueror of Tokyo. All of their enemies have long since been crushed. The occasional upstart contender is defeated within a month of entering the ring. Their work is focused on fine-tuning an already smooth criminal operation, optimizing profits.

What is the point?

There are so many hours in a week, in a day! And there are so few activities that bring the rush he needs.

Hanma doesn’t care for money. Stealing something feels better anyway. He doesn’t stake his pride on the success of Toman. Time has made him fond of a number of the top executives – Kisaki and Hakki particularly – but their company only interests him for a few hours a week.

Sex helps. Drugs help. Underground boxing rings help. But none of these things inspire him to get out of bed every morning.

He is unanchored. He is an addict whose supply is dwindling. Or, more accurately, who has adjusted to the product and can no longer achieve the same highs as before.

Sitting across from your pretty, blank face, and confronting the truth, Hanma feels split in half. He wants to slap you for seeing him so clearly when no one else has ever dared look.

Yet another part roars in celebration. He feels hyper-present. The fog of boredom is in retreat.

“Well, I’m certainly not bored now,” Hanma drawls with a smile. “You know, I’ve read in the papers tragic stories of some poor sap falling out of bed, bumping his head, and waking up a full-blown psychopath. Is that true? Do you think that’s what happened to me?”

You shrug. “Have you ever suffered a traumatic brain injury?”

“Sure, dozens,” Hanma smiles. His fighting style is all offense. Getting concussed is a non-event to him.

“Has there ever been a significant change in your behavior, personality, or perspective following one of these brain events?” you clarify.

“No.”

“Well, then, I’m inclined to put this more on your childhood,” you say.

“Spoken like a true shrink, though you might be onto something. Mommy was an alcoholic, Daddy was a diddler, and all the neighborhood kids picked on me. It was real said,” Hanma intones in a tragic whisper.

“We can save your childhood confessions for when we’ve built up more of a rapport,” you say, leaving the bait untouched.

“Boo! Who’s boring now? Actually, going back to that brain injury thing. I think that would be pretty entertaining. Could I take a decent citizen, no a step beyond, a monk, bonk them on the head and turn them into a violent psychopath? That would be pretty fun to watch. I may just have to try it out.”

Hakkai’s sister owns a spa outside Tokyo, in the mountains not far from a shrine. There ought to be one or two stray monks he could abduct for an experiment. All in the name of science, of course.

Again, you prove unbaitable. You don’t chastise him for his evil ways or wiggle in your seat. Instead, you ponder the logistics of the scenario every bit as seriously.

“Hmm…let me think about that for a moment. The challenge is it’s common for people to change dramatically after a traumatic experience, not from brain injury but from the adrenaline and the psychological impact. So, if you attacked a temple of monks, you would expect drastic behavioral changes, even if their brains weren’t rewired to psychopathy. You’d have to know about their daily patterns beforehand as well for comparison, so you’d have to surveil the place for weeks if not months. And even then, it’s more of a one in one thousand chance.”

“That’s not a problem. One thousand monks it is!”

“I’ll be on the lookout for that headline. One thousand monks mysteriously bashed on the head,” you banter.

Hanma isn’t joking. In fact, he’s trying to unbalance you, but you laugh like what he’s said is genuinely hilarious. In that brief moment, everything about you relaxes. Your posture slackens, ankles crossing to reveal a scandalous sliver of ankle. Modestly, your hand flutters to cover your mouth, but he can still see the stretch of your lips. Best of all, you tap your pen briefly to your lips, a second short of a little nibble.

Hanma sees the real you in a burst of unrestrained honesty. The same way you saw him earlier.

There is a temptation to let the moment linger with this foreign version of you, but your momentary flash of vulnerability is too valuable to pass up. Hanma leans forward to mirror your posture.

“Let’s say I agree with your hypothesis, and say yes, I’m bored. What then? Do you teach me how to appreciate the little things in life?”

You sober, resuming the professional veil.

“No. There may be some medications – a mood stabilizer or anti-depressant – that help. And, we could certainly work on developing some tools for when you are bored, so that you don’t do something destructive to break the monotony, but the main priority would be to help you find things that stimulate and entertain your need for an adrenaline high. That way, you don’t wake up wishing yourself or others dead. Instead, you would go out and stimulate yourself. Something like…car racing maybe? I will have to think on it a bit.”

How…droll. Disappointment crashes into Hanma like said racing car – of which he already owns two. After teasing him with your uncanny insight into his brain, you followed up with mundanity.

He despises you. Yes, he hates people like you. You could offer him no more than a monkey dancing on a string. Well…you were pretty. You could have one additional use.

Vindictive at having his hopes dashed, Hanma snaps back, “Car racing? Your cure for me is car racing? You know there are plenty of other ways I could start getting my kicks. What do other sociopaths do to get off? I could start stalking women, maybe start with a pretty, little therapist? That could keep me plenty entertained. I wonder how you’d scream when I’m breaking through your window.”

“Loudly. I live on the eighth floor. Regardless, you already get the thrill of holding power over others as part of your job, and you have plenty of sexual stimulation. I don’t think terrorizing me would offer you much novelty. My scream would sound no different than anyone else’s,” you say, brutally dispassionate.

“Spoil sport,” Hanma mutters.

There are a handful of people in the world who could rebut him so casually. He senses no fear in you, and against his better judgment, his interest piques once again.

“You wanted to scare me, and you didn’t. How does it make you feel when you don’t get the reaction you want?” you ask.

“Hard.”

For good measure, Hanma thrusts his hips up. Your eyes dart down before you remember yourself and redirect your gaze to your notepad. You scribble something down. Maybe too ashamed to meet his gaze?

“Our time is up,” you say. “I think this was a strong start. We’re agreed on the problem, which is always the first challenge. Now, it’s just a matter of coming up with a therapeutic solution. Can I show you out?”

Something hisses through Hanma’s brain, not quite angry but close. With the session over, he realizes how effortlessly you controlled the tone and topic even as he tried to disrupt or stonewall you at every turn. He had been reduced to a naughty schoolboy throwing paper airplanes at the teacher’s back.

Hanma can’t let you end this session on your terms as well.

“You’re just going to throw me out into the cold after making my cock hard like this? You’re in the services industry. My service should end with a happy ending,” Hanma mocks.

He palms his own thigh, drawing attention to the magnitude of his person. The threat is ninety percent air, but Hanma thinks he might cum immediately if you watch him touch himself. Or better yet, if you jerk him off with your delicate, moisturized hands. He loves putting a woman’s manicure to good use.

“I need to speak to Kisaki-san for a few minutes about your therapy anyway. Feel free to sit here as long as you like,” you say dismissively.

“You tease.”

As your heels click out the door, Hanma sinks further back into the plush of the armchair and thinks. He has always been excellent at picking out others’ weaknesses. So, while it could be his imagination, he believes his gut when it tells him your parting expression at his antics…it was fond.

When you close the door behind your office and Hanma, it’s not like you breath some great sigh of relief, but you can’t deny your breathing comes easier. The air in the room had been oppressive, like Hanma took three great gulps of oxygen for every one you managed to steal.

There is no time to celebrate, however, because in the waiting area awaits yet another predator.

“Kisaki-san! I apologize for keeping you waiting. Can I offer you anything to drink?” you say in your softest voice. You pegged Kisaki as a man with limited expectations of women and no appetite to expand his worldview.

Possibly the most dangerous man in Tokyo sits in a narrow, plastic chair in your waiting room. It feels wrong to greet him from a position of height, and you wait for him to stand before drawing closer. Like Hanma, he is dressed well, though with less flare than your potential patient.

“No, your receptionist handled that,” Kisaki waves away your drink offer. “You’ve had the opportunity to meet him now. Will you take on his case?”

Unbeknownst to Hanma, that had been less therapy session than interview. Work like this pays well but presents particular risks, and you never rush into a potential mistake. You would rather gather information until you saw every angle, and then act accordingly. Today’s meeting with Hanma is the final step in your risk assessment.

“I think I understand him and how to help him. That said, he showed more aggression towards me as a person than I expected,” you said, taking special care in your choice of the word ‘aggression.’

“He can be intimidating,” Kisaki says on a ghost of a smile.

“If I’m going to take on his treatment, I’ll need double.”

There. The final piece in your negotiation. Naturally, you intended to raise your prices at the last moment, but double is a legitimate reaction to Hanma.

You hadn’t expected him to be so…charismatic. His voice did half the work, deep in a way that made your gut clench and teasing in a way that made your pussy clench with it. He showed less of the superficial charm you expected from sociopaths, likely because he didn’t seek your validation. He toyed with you, yes, but like you were still on the shelf, a toy he hadn’t committed to buying. In his disinterest, he held nothing back, bantering so fast you struggled to keep up the entire session. Clinging to your professional script, you could barely keep up with his questions.

It excites you.

Then, there is the threat from the end of the session. Even now, he remains in your office. Is he actually jerking off? Or was that a taunt to strike fear into you? Probably the latter. If the former, you ought to hire a locksmith to add a third set of locks to your door.

Transference is always something you guard against and shut down at the earliest signals. You are not a friend, lover, or mother to your patients, and you can be callous in knocking that reminder into the deluded.

Yet with Hanma, how are you supposed to make any progress if you can’t engage his attention? He repeatedly tried to introduce a tit-for-tat into the conversation, showing the most interest when the conversation turned back on you. A little transference, just a little, might make him more susceptible to therapy.

All of this plays out in your head as you negotiate terms with Kisaki. Finally, he concedes to your price.

“I expect results,” Kisaki says. Unlike Hanma, he doesn’t need theatrics to make the threat heard loud and clear.

You hold his murderous gaze unflinchingly and reply, “My professional career would be destroyed if word ever reached the psychiatric board that I took this case. So, you have collateral in the event you’re unhappy with my work. But you won’t need it. You’ll see results.”

“I better.”

When you fall asleep rereading your case files that night, Kisaki’s words echo in your ear and invade your sweetest dreams. Failure is not an option.

[doodle-pops]

Impress Me

Glorfindel x reader

Kinktober 2022: Thigh Riding

Request: NSFW request: “the only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” Glorfindel x Fem!Reader - anon

Warnings: fembod, thigh riding, mean dom! Glorfindel, dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.2k

Synopsis: A slip up in your mannerisms leaves you quaking.

Prompt: “the only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

You’d been acting out of turn for weeks going into a month and all Glorfindel did was sit back in his chair and leaned against the wall and smirk. A wine glass in hand, he’d look on at your scandalous behaviour which demonstrated all acts of immodesty with a silent playful stare. The corners of his lips would turn upwards whenever he let you believe that you bested him at another round of your disapproving attitude. All he simply did was added your behaviour to a mental list he created every time you did something unpleasant in his eyes. Whether it was the flirtation with his friends or the lowly cut dress that revealed your cleavage for the world to ogle or the rolls of your eyes whenever he commanded you to obey him, he simply remained quiet until it was the rightest time to strike, which was obviously now.

You laid bare on the bed before Glorfindel, blindfolded and spread open for the world – only him – to see. Your chest was heaving with tear stains blemishing your cheeks from a painful punishment. He denied your orgasm four times and your body was begging for relief. Cries and pleas for him to give in and give you what you desired were ignored. Because as you were warned, “You’re nowhere in the position for making demands kitten.” His rough calloused hands grazed your legs, trailing around your knee till they reached the inner of your thighs and danced near your nether region. Glorfindel’s fingers ghosted your sensitive lips, watching how your body was torn between squirming away from his touch and folding.

Parting your lips with two of his fingers, you cried out to him and cast your pleads and apologies for your behaviour, but they weren’t enough for Glorfindel to give in. His punishment with you was far from finished, it was only the beginning of a long and excruciating night. Just then, his index travelled south and dipped into your heat, slowly pumping in and out and feeling the immeasurable heat radiating.

“You want me to stop yet your cunt tells me otherwise.” His voice was drenched in honey and sinfully irritating as it mocked and humiliated you.

Tossing and turning about the bed, you couldn’t get far due to your hands and legs being fought against by his other free hand. It was an impossible task fighting against him given his warrior disposition. You were set to lose the fight from the start, but if you could just try, maybe you’d have some dignity left instead of giving up, “G-Glorfindel please, please, j-just let me cum. I beg y-you.”

"I beg y-you," he was having a ball humiliating you, just as you attempted to do with him, "You’ve been begging me all night darling, and nothing seems to be working. How desperate are you?”

His responses were menacingly terrifying. You knew just how worked up he got whenever he got the opportunity to have ultimate payback. His blood was always pumping vigorously pushing him into a savage.

Struggling to focus and catch your breath, it was proving difficult with the dangerous sliding of his finger through your heat, “I-I’ll do anything…please.” With a final breath, you collapsed into the bed as his finger ministration refused to let up. In truth, he was taking in your words, and it was the ‘anything’ part that had him thinking.

Glancing around the room and ignoring your moans, he was racking his brain for a perfect solution. What could he have you do? Old ideas of him asking for you to experiment with different activities with him flashed across, but all of them proved to give you control, he didn’t want to give it up so quickly. He could have you suck him off, but that was too simple. He could have you ride him and then deny you once again. Or…he would make you ride his thigh; make you work for your orgasm since you wanted it so badly. The dark chuckle that escaped his lips reverberated within his chest warmly.

Slipping his finger out abruptly, his hands went to work to pull you up and remove your blindfold. Adjusting your vision was the second most painful experience you had tonight. The room was dimly lit but was still bright compared to your lack of visual perception. Just when you thought you were gaining some freedom, a hand reached out and snatch you by your wrist to tug you up the bed and sit on a sturdy object. Hisses erupted when your exposed cunt came in contact with the material. It felt soft like cotton as your hands reached out to explore and under, you felt the sturdy object it covered. It flexed easily under your touch, relaxing, and then contracting in seconds. Your vision was still slight poor to analyze what you were sitting on.

You wanted to shift but the grip on your waist told you otherwise. They screamed ‘patience’ and you knew they belonged to your husband. Still fighting to bring in your line of sight, it was obscured by your husband leaning into your space to whisper his patronizing words, “The only way you get to cum is by riding my thigh.” His words were followed by a harsh slap to your ass signalling you to get started.

Blinking a few times, it was then your sight of him smirking with a glass of wine in his hand and the other resting behind his head came into view. You were sitting on his left thigh with a wet patch soiled into his trousers from where you were positioned. Gazing at him through hooded eyes, you frowned before resting your hands on either side of his leg to make the first move. You were sensitive and you felt it through the first contact against your clit. Your little bundle of nerves quivered under the pressure being released as you worked your hips back and fro. Your body was trembling at the relief of pleasure it got and knowing that it was going to be achieved on your time.

Lips parted, you were panting and whining as your hips dragged itself up and down his thigh leaving streaks of your arousal leaking all over. Glorfindel said nothing as he watched with glints of lust swirling around in his jaded orbs, only lifting the glass of wine occasionally to his lips to quench his thirst. You couldn't read his facial expression aside from the fact that your head was cast downwards, but he wore a blank mask. No one could tell if he was pleased, satisfied, or bored, there was just emptiness. All the expressions came from you as you tumbled into the pleasure blanket, elated by the warmth and comfort it provided.

Your face contorted as did your body, relaying all the powerful and overwhelming tingling sensations you experienced. You were a mess as your clit continually bumped against his thick muscular thighs. You could feel your little nub trembling from the overstimulation it was facing, but you had to suck up the pain and go with the flow of things. If you were getting the chance to redeem yourself, it was best that you put on the performance of a lifetime. Tossing your head back, an earth-shattering moan flew from your throat when you felt your coils tightening. Your legs were already growing weary, your hips were slowing down and the urge to reach your hand downwards and touch yourself was growing, but you didn’t want to anger him further. A command to ride his thigh was given and you’d do just that. Lifting one hand of the sheets, you brought it to your breast, tugging your dainty little nub, pulling, and twisting in hopes of adding to your pleasure and getting you off faster. As you felt your pressure growing, you lifted the other hand to join in on the act.

Humping his thigh like a wild animal through the searing sensitivity, you pushed through and rode him like a rodeo. Your hair fell around your frame, encasing you in an angelic glow and the lighting in the room did its job by enhancing the sheen of sweat. You appeared as a Goddess riding him and giving him all your songs. Glorfindel couldn’t prevent the heat from pooling in his stomach as he looked on, and on natural reflexes, his thigh muscles flexed and stiffened under. Riding his muscular thigh had never felt so compelling.

"Come on, I know you can do better than that kitten," he said with aggravation laced in his voice as a hand rose to pinch at your thigh, urging you to move faster. Casting a heated glare at him as tears formed in your eyes, he returned an unbothered smirk.

He watched with a clenched jaw because his erection was straining in his pants, and he wished for you to hurry along. His glass of wine was already finished, and he couldn’t leave the bed for another, all he could do was lean back and peep the show, but he wanted more. All you could do was ride his leg with the best energy you could muster but he was already growing tired of your sluggish movements and didn’t hesitate to snake a hand around your waist and tug you into his chest. Arching his left leg upwards to rest between your thighs, he switched between dribbling and bouncing his leg up and down for maximum pleasure, while his mouth pushed your hands out the way and wrapped its lips around your nipple.

He laughs into your body at you, your pathetic, whiney cries for more “Please, please, please, oh God, fuck –”. Amazed how he could easily turn you into a mess. You were chanting incomprehensible gibberish with your head tossed backwards while your nails dug into his shoulder blades. So much for you riding his thigh.

One arm was around your waist and the other was groping your ass he glided your body to match his pace. The whole point was to get you off faster, and it seemed to be working from the excessive volume of juices you were leaking. Your body had given up halfway with working your own hips since his hands took over to do the pacing. More than half his thigh was already soaked, and his cotton pants clung to his skin. Prying his lips on your breast and kissing his way up to meet your neck, he reeled back before placing a fat hickey at the juncture of your neck, for the world to see. He licked at it and listened to the hisses you released from the pain; it made his cock twitch endlessly.

All the sounds your cunt was making as it dragged over his thigh were lewd. You were drenched and all the squelching was visibly heard. At this point, all your dignity was lost.

“How shameful, look at the mess you've made and you're going to cum all over my thigh already,” he scoffed. He found it pathetic how quickly you were coming undone especially after earlier lip service. Truly pathetic and he adored it. There were heart floating around his head and swimming in his eyes as he looked on.

"If you want to cum so badly, say the magic word kitten," and at his deadly whisper, his leg slowed its movement to snail's pace while the hands on your waist halted your movements.

Whining with tears flowing down your face, you gripped his shoulders and dug your nails into them while wailing into his neck, crying out his name, "G-Glorfindel p-please move, 'm so close."

Fat tears poured down your face and Glorfindel made no attempt to change his pace until you caved in one last time and begged for his touch. He enjoyed being cruel at times, you deserved it after all those stunts you'd freely pull. He watched you cry into his neck, wetting his skin with your salty tears before he cooed, "You know the words kitten, come on, just say them."

His voice was antagonizing as it floated into your ears. You could hear and feel the smirk plastered on his face. Swallowing the last ounce of humility you possessed, you cried into his neck, "Please, p-please, please, Glorfindel, please I beg you. Let me cum."

"One more time for me, kitten, let me hear you," Eru, he could be so fucking patronizing. You wanted to claw the smirk off his face. He was loving the way he could toy with your orgasm like a predator toying with its meal.

Choking on your sobs, you conformed under his will again, "Please my Lord, Sir, just please let me cum. I'm sorry."

Pleased at your attempts, the hands on your waist tightened their grip and dragged your hips deliriously against his leg, making your head spin. Tossing and turning your head as though you were in pain, all you were focusing on right now was getting to your high. The pressure was unbearable, and the coil was searing in the pit of your stomach. Clenching your teeth, feeling as if they would shatter, you felt your body trembling as the flames took over your skin. The sweat coating your skin did nothing to ease the heat as it surpassed normal temperatures. It was as if your body was going into shock from all the denials earlier. It wasn’t sure how to process the oncoming wave.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh –”

Your cries were cut-off as your body flopped into his, violently convulsing before going limp in his arms. There was nothing but your silent breathing as your body laid flop onto him. You had passed out from the intensity of your orgasm and had already drifted off. Glorfindel did know if it was to laugh or sympathize with your situation as it was you who caused yourself to wind up there. His hands cradled you closely, pulling you off his thigh and wrapping you up in his arms while murmuring about how this could have been avoided if you weren’t so difficult, but he knew you couldn’t help it. It was within your nature to be difficult around him, but you just couldn’t help yourself, he always gave you good pleasure in the end. However, tonight was different, and he was sure that whenever you awoke, he’d do his best to ensure that you’d never forget it.

"Rest for now kitten, I'm far from finished with you."

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @someoneinthestars @lilmelily @aconstructofamind @mysticmoomin

Kinktober 🏷: @rain-on-my-umbrella @something-about-twilight @hoshinokurasa @wandererindreams @aconstructofamind

[uchihabbynic]

Forbidden

Characters: Shikamaru Nara x Fem! Reader

Mentions: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader, Temari 

a/n: Shikamaru brain rot lives on ✨ I can’t get this man out of my head 🥵

TW: Smut (Unprotected sex, Dom! Shika, Choking, Face sitting); All characters are 18+, Jealous/Possessive Shikamaru, Angst, Intoxication, Smoking, Toxic Relationships, Slight bratty! fem reader.

Word Count: 4.2k

2 Months Prior:

“What the fuck was that?!” Shikamaru roared, pointing his thumb in the direction of the door behind him. Your blood boiled being cornered in a bedroom with your ex-boyfriend but something about seeing him so worked up and angry turned you on after so much time apart. 

“Hm. Never took you as the jealous type, Shikamaru.” You smirked, batting your lashes up at the handsome man whose body stood menacingly over you.

You knew Shikamaru was clearly drunk and in his feelings when he staggered into the empty bedroom ahead of you - his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, ready to confront you after a night of watching you shove your tongue down Naruto’s throat for the sake of a party game. This envious side wasn’t something you weren’t used to seeing in the man who was always so confident & collected.

Unfortunately, you both were extremely petty - so when he walked into the kickback with Temari hanging all over him, you decided to retaliate by giving him a little show of your own during Truth or Dare.

“Excuse me?” Shika’s dark eyes bore a hole into your own as he focused on you with spine-tingling intensity. 

“You heard me. You can’t stand the fact that I made out with Naruto in front of you.” You retorted, hostility spilling from your lips. You were purposely trying to get a rise out of Shikamaru to coax him into fucking you silly, just one more time.

“Pft. That was practically foreplay. Real classy, Y/N.” Shikamaru grumbled and scowled; his brows furrowed together.

“You think I give a fuck about being “classy?” Get real. I do what I want, when I want.” You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest. 

Let’s face it. After downing 5 shots, you were unbelievably horny and you knew just how to egg him on - I mean, he was your ex after all. Despite the fact that Naruto was a great guy, you wanted Shikamaru to be the one to angrily fuck you into the mattress before you both went back to your mundane lives, being broken up and acting as if you two never knew each other until this screwed up, chaotic cycle of ‘fight, ignore, fuck’ - repeat itself.

“-But what about you and Temari? She was practically cockwarming you all night.” You rolled your eyes as you shoved your index finger down your throat, making a fake but audible gagging noise. 

You stared at Shikamaru’s chest, watching it rapidly rise and fall. He wasn't a man who was often easily worked up but with lingering feelings and alcohol coursing through his veins - your little stunt alone was enough to piss him off.  

“Your point?” Shika shoved his hand in his sweatpants, pulling out his vape and taking a long drag from it, with a now deadpan expression on his face - not giving you the satisfaction of letting you know that you’d gotten under his skin. 

You sighed, clearly annoyed. “My point is to worry about your own sex life. We aren’t together anymore so don’t confront me on who I decide to sleep with.” 

Shikamaru raised a brow, hands now casually resting inside his pockets. “Oh, so you are fucking him.” The words bitterly spilled from his lips. 

“Maybe.” you spat back. “I’m being safe and that’s all you need to know. Next topic.”

(You 100% were not fucking Naruto but you loved to see Shikamaru squirm)

Shikamaru’s eyes flared and immediately dropped to the floor - caught off guard, not expecting to hear you respond with such confidence. The male bravado that seeped from his pores had instantaneously diminished by your insinuation that you were indeed being intimate with Naruto outside of just a silly party game. However, for a split second you felt sorry for him. Perhaps rubbing such a lie in his face was…cruel? You momentarily observed the man who once held your heart, trying to read his emotions as he had become unusually quiet. 

Shikamaru eventually pulled himself from the depths of his thoughts, shooting you a completely different look than before. His eyes were glossed over from the alcohol he had consumed throughout the night and his signature smirk crept across his lips as he took a step closer to you. 

“You know I can fuck you better than he ever could.” He growled, slowly walking towards you sending shivers down your spine. 

“Prove it.” You taunted, licking your cherry lip gloss covered lips. The exact one that always had Shikamaru going crazy.  

>>>

Present Day:

“We can’t keep doing this…” You raked your fingers through his long jet black hair, sudsing his scalp with your favorite tea tree & mint shampoo as the scorching hot water trickled down your backside. 

“Doing what, exactly?” Shikamaru’s brown eyes peered up through his dewy lashes, shooting you a cheeky smirk as he leaned his head forward allowing you better access to his midnight locks; his thin silver chain dangling ever so slightly in front of his neck.

“Don’t be a smartass. This. Whatever this is.” 

Shikamaru let out a small chuckle as you turned around to grab the shower head preparing to rinse the white foam out of his hair - your plump ass brushing against his already semi hard dick, immediately causing it to stand at attention.

“You’re going to kill my boner with all your worrying. Chill out.” Shikamaru wrung out his soaking wet hair after ensuring there was no more shampoo residue, finger motioning for you to turn around - giving him easier access to squirt the clear liquid on top of your head.

You smacked your lips in response, annoyed at Shikamaru’s ability to be unbothered by almost anything. 

“Exes are exes for a reason, right?” You sighed, letting your eyes gently close and rest as you let Shika’s fingers massage the soap into your hair. 

“Is that why you keep asking me to come spend the night with you?” He sneered. Sarcasm dripped from his lips. His dick jumped as your backside pressed firmly into him - a feeling he’d never grow tired of. 

Shikamaru had this unbelievable magnetic pull on you. A stronghold on your life that may never break. A soul tie, if you will. Every time your head said “no”, your heart caved and said “yes” and you were drowning in your mixed emotions. One minute you were done with all the back and forth bullshit and the next, you were texting your ex to come over at 2am. 

Shikamaru taught you how to live in the moment. He saw you when you thought no one did and you would forever appreciate him for that but when things were bad they were REALLY bad. Small bickering and petty comments turned into heated fights & an eventual lack of trust. Insecurity issues that you never worked through caused you to do sneaky things like snoop through Shika’s phone on nights he'd sleep early. Your love that was supposed to be your fairytale ending turned toxic & sour with the blink of an eye. 

You went on date after date following your breakup with Shika but despite the events leading up to your split, still - no one ever compared to the way he made you feel. It was high highs and low lows. It was exciting in all the wrong ways. The adrenaline rush that pumped through your veins when you finally broke his calm demeanor causing him to get in your face and snap - completely losing his shit as he felt you were testing him on purpose. He’d call you a troublesome woman and then drill you into the mattress like his personal fuck-toy. Truthfully, you became obsessed with the chaos. 

Regardless, you felt as though Shikamaru was still your person but when you found out Naruto had a crush on you, you were willing to open your heart to him in ways you hadn’t in a long time. After the naughty display the two of you put on at the kickback in front of all your friends during the heated game of Truth or Dare, Naruto had confessed he’d been secretly crushing from afar and that he wanted to get to know you better. You knew that the Uzumaki had a great heart and pure intentions so you agreed to go on a couple dates with the blonde but emphasized your desire to take the emotional intimacy side of things slow.

Although you weren't in a committed relationship, your conscience would still gnaw at you. You couldn’t help but worry that someone would get hurt and that was the last thing you wanted but Shikamaru was like an addiction you couldn’t overcome. A drug you couldn’t wean yourself off of and technically, you and Naruto weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. 

“Sometimes…I wish that I had the strength to stay away from you.” You stepped forward, squeezing your eyes shut, letting the warm water wash over your hair and face - the clean, minty aroma filling the shower.

Shikamaru grabbed a handful of your hair and placed it to one side of your shoulder, revealing your bare neck and began planting soft kisses. His warm breath on your skin covered your body in goosebumps despite being in the confines of the steamy glass box.

“I can’t say that I haven’t missed burying my cock inside your pretty little cunt after all this time.” Shikamaru sucked hard on your neck and you were sure it’d leave a bruise. The softest whimper tumbled from your lips as you felt his dick jump once more from the slight friction your backside was rewarding him with. 

You sharply inhaled, rolling your shoulders to shake away from Shikamaru’s grasp as you turned the water off and proceeded to step out of the shower, letting the cold chill of the AC hit your shivering body. 

“So it’s just the sex you miss, huh?” you asked. A mix of a bad attitude and disappointment laced your tone of voice causing Shikamaru to pause abruptly as he followed you out into the cold air that hit his skin, now drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist. 

“Of course not. I can’t stop thinking about you.” Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes from your now intense gaze.

“-Because we’re having sex again, right?” you pressed, as you brushed through your hair, being sure to not let any knots set in while your locks air dried. 

“No. You mean a lot to me… But, let’s not do this right now, ok? Feelings are a fucking drag.” Shikamaru grabbed a hair tie putting his signature black locks into a high pony as he watched you slip on black lounge shorts causing him to pause in his tracks once more. 

“Oh, you don’t need those.” He spat back with certainty in his voice before lunging towards you, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder. 

He allowed his towel to drop from his midsection as he trekked from your bathroom to your bedroom, dropping you on the king sized mattress. Shikamaru leaned over you and planted a few sloppy, needy kisses on your lips to which you smiled. 

“We shouldn’t…” You argued, more so trying to convince yourself. 

Your breathing suddenly shallow as Shikamaru feverishly kissed you - both his arms on either side of your body, caging you in. As much as you hated to admit it, you missed the softness of his lips, the warmth of his tongue swirling in your mouth, the rough pads of Shika’s fingertips as he plunged his digits deep inside of your dripping wet heat anywhere and anytime he wanted to feel you squirming around him. 

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave. Otherwise… shut the fuck up and sit on my face.” Shika demanded. 

His eyes grew dark with lust and intent as he watched you finally cave under his menacing stare. You quickly nodded your head and proceeded to untie the shorts you’d just slipped on. 

Shikamaru laid on his back and propped himself up on the mountain of pillows you kept on your bed. His hairy, muscular legs spread open, looking absolutely delicious. That cocky smirk plastered across his face as he reached down to tug at his hard member, stroking himself as he watched you disrobe for him. He beamed to himself at his ability to get you naked and desperate for his cock like a slut, without having to do much at all. 

You crawled onto the bed and settled the heat between your legs right onto Shikamaru’s mouth - your thick thighs resting on either side of Shika’s cheeks, his fingers dancing along the juicy flesh that enveloped his face. In fact, he quite loved being smothered between the squishy, soft skin as he got lost in your naturally intoxicating aroma. Shikamaru licked a stripe along your wet folds before hungrily lapping up your juices, moaning and devouring your pussy like a ravenous beast. His tongue reached deep into every crevice; your fingers clung onto the wooden headboard in front of you for dear life as you grinded and gyrated your hips riding his face, whilst also trying to give Shika as much access to your sensitive nub as possible. 

Shikamaru’s hand continued to fist his oozing cock - pumping furiously, while the other was situated on your hip bone to hold you steady; low grunts now escaping his mouth sending vibrations into your heat so intensely, your toes curled. 

“D- Don’t stop, Shika…” You threw your head back as pleasure surged through your body. You were so close to coming undone and the night had barely begun. 

Shikamaru obliged and latched onto your sensitive clit, sucking and slurping at the bud with much fervor, your juices racing down his stubbly chin. His fingers still pressed into your hip bone - desperate to stabilize you when you’d try running away from the overstimulation. 

“I’m right there! Keep going… please!” You panted and begged as your pussy pulsated around his lips. The familiar build of an orgasm almost crashed into you when suddenly Shikamaru abruptly stopped all movements, yanking you from being sat on top of him. 

“The only way you’re cumming is around my cock, princess.” Shika growled and wrapped his arms around your midsection, throwing you onto the mattress and settled himself on top of you. 

You hated the orgasm denial but loved to be manhandled. You’d never say it to the sly bastard’s face but truthfully, his sexual wish was your command. He was the only man you’d ever been with who’d leave you shaking, convulsing and foaming at the mouth after pulling 5 orgasms out of you in one night. 

You let your legs fall as far apart as they could go, letting Shikamaru have a perfect view of your pretty pussy. 

“I love how fucking wet you get for me.” He purred.

 His lips were puffy & eyes hooded as he looked down on you. He licked his lips tasting every last drop of your glorious juices that coated his mouth. 

Shikamaru gripped his throbbing, hard length and began rubbing the red tip up and down your slick folds to which you whimpered in response. He bit his lip at the sensation of his hypersensitive head and without a second thought, jerked his hips forward, plunging deep inside your gushy cunt with one long stroke. 

You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut at the way Shika’s huge cock suddenly filled you.

“Fuck. That’s my girl. Takin’ it so well.” Shika breathed out as he began stroking, burying himself deep in your gummy walls. You placed your legs on Shikamaru’s shoulders and a slew of curses fell from your lips. The depth of the angle was driving both of you wild. 

Shikamaru continued to fuck himself in you as hard as he could. The sound of sweaty skin slapping together, mixed with melodic groans and pants was all that could be heard. Shika reached forward balancing himself on one arm to grab your chin taunt in his hand -  forcing you to look straight at him as he leaned forward, hitting an even deeper angle than before causing you to yelp. 

“Who else fucks you like this?” Shikamaru barked, demanding an answer as his dilated pupils stared down at you. 

Your eyes wide and glazed over as you could barely form a complete sentence. Meanwhile, Shika was just enjoying the view of his cock disappearing in and out of your needy pussy with every stroke. 

“N-no one.” You replied, meekly. Shikamaru’s head dropped forward and he became more feral, feeling you constrict around his hard cock as you submitted to him.

He asked. You answered.

“Say my name. Let everyone know who’s fucking you!” Shikamaru managed between every throaty groan. His hips slammed against the back of your legs. The sensation of his balls slapping your ass was enough to send him to climax but despite his cocky bedroom demeanor, he still wanted to ensure you came first. 

“Shika, this pussy belongs to you!” You cried out. Hearing this was music to Shikamaru’s ears and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he listened to you unravel at his very command.

Shikamaru’s hand flung to your throat, gripping your neck firmly as he continued to fuck into you - his jaw tensed as he concentrated hard to make sure he didn’t cum too soon. You clung onto his broad shoulders leaving red nail marks and clenched  once more around his length. It was evident you were both close as you began moaning Shikamaru’s name over and over. He smirked. This was a tell-tale sign that you were about to cum all over his cock, just the way he liked and Shikamaru was more than eager to see the white creamy ring that’d coat his thick, veiny member. 

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hm?” Shika asked. Sweat racing down his toned back muscles. 

You rapidly shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut once more preparing for the wave of pleasure. 

“Damn, you look so pretty taking my cock, Y/N. Always have.” 

As Shikamaru drilled into you with his hand still gripped around your neck, you saw a flash of white as your mouth fell open letting go a guttural cry and cumming hard around your lover’s throbbing dick - to which he followed closely behind. He loved watching your face contort into the adorable expressions you’d always made. This aided in his rapidly approaching orgasm and he was certain that this meant a job well done. 

“Fuck, I’m close. I’m gonna-!” Shikamaru managed through his moans. 

“In me. Please!” You pleaded, now making direct eye contact with those chocolate irises you loved so much. 

You’d lowered your legs and wrapped them around Shika’s waist, locking ankles, giving your hip bones a rest from the mating press position you’d previously been in. Shikamaru let out one final loud grunt as he painted your walls with his thick, sticky seed. 

>>> 

“I just can’t get enough of you, Y/N.” Shikamaru whispered as he laid next to you in bed lazily twirling his finger around a bit of your hair, the cold sheets icy on both your heat prickled bodies. 

You quite enjoyed a more sensitive Shikamaru especially after a dirty love-making sesh but you knew that this moment was nothing more than a mere facade. A nonsexual intimate moment that was purely fleeting. It wasn't the reality of your relationship and that alone made it hard to bare. 

“You should go.” You said bitterly as you sat up in bed peeling Shikamaru’s t-shirt off your body and throwing it on his lap next to you. 

Shikamaru paused, shocked that you were actually kicking him out. “Is that what you really want?” He sat up in bed next to you, leaning over to gather his clothes from the edge of his bed. 

“I want to end this bullshit cycle! It’s confusing!” You erupted, hands flailing. 

“Here we go. Don’t nag me, woman.” Shikamaru huffed and rolled his eyes in response to your sensitivity about your unique situation, pulling his jeans onto his hips in the process. 

“Why are you so scared to face this head on?” You asked the raven-haired man who was already making his way to your balcony for a cigarette. 

You followed Shikamaru outside who already cupped his hand, lighting the white stick with the fiery ember. Your arms were crossed as you cocked your head to the side waiting for an answer. 

“I’m not scared of anything.” The Nara responded coolly as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs. “It’s simple really.”

“-You’re still in love with me.” He responded with such calmness. So sure of himself, it irritated your soul - partly because you knew he was right. 

Your eyes grew slightly wide and felt your cheeks sear as Shika’s comment had you both flustered and annoyed.

“You’re so obnoxious.” You smirked unamused at Shikamaru’s accusation.

Shika suddenly turned to face you, being sure to blow his cigarette smoke in a different direction. 

“You didn’t deny it.” His brow raised. Annoyingly enough, Shikamaru lowkey got off from the fact that you were still wrapped around his finger. 

“What about you, huh?” You frowned, stepping forward in Shikamaru’s direction, poking a stern finger into his chest. 

“Fuck, Shika. You’re so quick to act like you don’t give a shit about anything but how do I really know you’re 100% over me!?” Your voice now raised and desperately pleading for answers. 

All you’d known for the past few months was ‘fuck, fight, ignore’ repeat with your ex boyfriend and the mixed signals had long become mentally & emotionally draining. 

Shika casually held the cigarette in between two fingers before shoving his free hand into his pant pocket.

“I never said I was.” He said with a shrug and attached the nicotine stick back to his lips. You stood, mouth open in pure disbelief at his response. 

Was it true? Was he still just as hung up on this as me?

Suddenly there was a knock at your apartment door, removing you from your thoughts. You and Shika exchanged confused glances and he pulled out his phone to check the time. 

“10:35pm” he grumbled. “Who could be visiting you at this hour?” He eyed you, annoyance slowly beginning to bubble up inside him. 

You shook your head unsure of who’d randomly pop by your place unannounced at such an hour but you begged Shikamaru to open the door for you, just to be on the safe side. 

You followed close on Shikamaru's heels as he went to open your apartment door to which you were both greeted by a familiar tall blonde. 

You gasped as you and Shikamaru were face to face with your current fling. Naruto appeared at your door holding a gorgeous bouquet of red roses & ramen in a to-go bag. His cheeky grin quickly fell as he examined the scenario he’d just walked into. 

He carefully eyed Shikamaru who was shirtless. His belt dangling around his waist undone and the top button of his jeans not closed yet. His Nike boxer briefs peeking out the top. 

Shikamaru grit his teeth before turning back to you. “Get a load of this guy. I think it’s for you.” He said sternly before quickly buttoning his pants, grabbing his shirt and stepping into his black & white Nike Dunks in the process. 

You were mortified and standing half naked in your apartment with another man. Your ex. There was no denying what Naruto saw and your heart immediately sank when your eyes met Naruto’s empty baby blue ones. 

“Naruto… I can explain.” You whispered, head hung low - too embarrassed to face either man.

“Save it, Y/N.” Naruto grumbled under his breath. “I figured I’d surprise you with a little take out & a movie night but I see you already had other plans.” He continued, frowning in Shikamaru’s direction who’d just taken a hit from his vape, lingering around to watch the drama unfold. 

You ran your fingers through your hair - stressed. You felt as though you’d just been kicked in the gut.

“Shikamaru… you should probably go.” You squeaked out. Your throat was so dry that all your words came out scratchy and hoarse. 

Naruto threw the flowers at your doorstep, barely making eye contact with anyone in the room - a pained expression written across his face. His cheeks bright red from the embarrassment he felt from the awkward rejection. His ego was clearly bruised - and rightfully so. 

“No, I'll go.” He said sourly as he turned on his heels. His messy pile of blonde hair hanging low over his eyes as he headed back down the stairwell of your apartment. 

“I guess I’ll just hit you up later.” Shikamaru said, kissing your forehead and grabbing his jacket.

“-Wait! Actually. Please stay.” You batted your eyes trying to keep the tears that had welled up from falling. 

You felt like an asshole for leading on such a sweet man because you didn’t have the balls to admit that you weren’t over Shikamaru. Naruto didn’t deserve this. No one did. But, the highs, the lows. You loved it. You couldn't get enough. 

“Say less.” He shrugged and cracked a small smile as these words were music to his ears. 

With that, Shika began disrobing once more, making himself comfortable in your bed. The truth is, he didn’t really want to leave to begin with. As nonchalant as Shikamaru acted, he was just as enamored by you as you were him - especially having been his first love, so, no matter what kind of brave front he put up, if you called - he’d come running and vice versa.

After all, he was your safety blanket. Your comfort. The Clyde to your Bonnie.

Your Forbidden Love. 

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 1: Leather with Charon

Pairing: Charon x Reader/Lone Wanderer (Neither (Y/n) nor LW names used) Word Count: 3650 Warnings: Leather kink, Oral (F receiving), vaginal fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it), aftercare, lil bit of dirty talk, feelings (These bitches in love). Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

My arms ached as we trudged through the metal door to our shared home in Megaton, the sound of Charon closing and locking it behind himself followed me up the stairs as my heavy feet carried me to my bedroom to drop my pack before I went to prepare the pair of us some dinner before the inevitable crash that always came after weeks on the dusty roads of the Capitol Wasteland.

“Bring your guns down with you, they need maintenance.” His low gravelly voice broke the non-silence of the house as I was shucking my Tunnel Snakes jacket off, preparing to change into lounge clothes.

The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down my spine that I was too tired to acknowledge right then.

“Yeah.” I called back before unzipping and messily stripping out of my vault suit, leaving it and my boots in a heap on the floor for tomorrow me to deal with, it needed washing anyway so it’s not like a night on the floor will hurt anything.

The worn soft material of my Brahmin skin pants was a welcome change from the skintight blue I’d been wearing for the last two weeks. It was a good thing that at this point Charon and I were used to each other’s smells, because I was sure I reeked, but bathing, just like laundry, would have to be a problem for future me.

With my pistol and assault rifle in hand I made my way back downstairs with heavy steps, softened by the Brahmin leather house shoes I now wore. “What sounds good? I’m thinking a couple cans of cram?” I asked the room at large, though I could see him sitting on the couch with his shotgun already in pieces.

“Got anymore of Jenny’s Mirelurk cakes in the fridge?” He asked, a question of such casual nature would have been unheard of 6 months ago, when it was like pulling teeth to get any kind of verbal acknowledgement from the large ghoul, but we hadn’t been quite so close then.

“I think so, don’t know if they’re still any good.” I made a face, though he wasn’t looking at me, I was trying not to look at him as I set my weapons on the couch next to him that was for certain.

I knew he was still wearing his leather armor, and out on the road there were enough distractions to keep me from thinking about how he looked, the way the thick material wrapped around and stretched over his muscular arms, the slight creak it would give when he flexed just right, and the way it made my lower belly feel like fire in the best way.

But here at home, where we were safe? There was nothing to help keep me from staring, nothing to help keep my brain occupied and not thinking about how much I desperately want to fuck my partner, a title that we’d agreed to use after a test run to make sure the mental conditioning wouldn’t cause him any issues.

It was right around that time that he started opening up more, about himself and just in general, like a switch had been flipped. Now, he still isn’t the chatty type, still content to stand behind me and stare menacingly while I do all the talking, but that was for the better, he’s not much of a people person.

And as he opened up, the schoolgirl style crush I’d gained on the man had evolved and after a near death experience I’d admitted to it, which resulted in…Whatever we were now, more than fuckbuddies, but the L word hasn’t been uttered though there were definitely feelings involved, I guess one could call it ‘going steady’ but we don’t exactly go on dates, seeing as the only options for that would be to go to Gob’s Saloon or the Brass Lantern, and we have booze and food at home, but I digress! The important part is that we haven’t taken any physical steps yet.

I’d asked about it once, why he hadn’t put the moves on me the way boys in the Vault had before they decided that I was untouchable. He’d said that he’d been around for a long time, and he was content to take our time, go at whatever pace I needed, and when I was ready, he was too.

At the time I’d been thankful for that. I’m no virgin, but this was a much deeper relationship than any other I’d ever had, so I didn’t want to fuck it all up by jumping into bed too fast, but it’s been 3 months and I was getting antsy, and that damn leather armor wasn’t helping!

It drove me insane, and it made it harder to keep my mouth shut, especially when he took off the top half and left the pants on, usually when he had to make repairs to a shoulder pad or something, giving me a beautiful view of the plains of his chest and back, rough patches of scarred skin over thick muscle that I knew was for far more than show.

“(Y/n)?” His voice saying my name damn near had a whimper falling from my lips as I snapped out of my thoughts to realize I’d been leaning against the counter staring at him this whole time. Shit, real fucking smooth Rad-for-brains…

“Hmm?” It came out a little dumb in my efforts to sound casual.

“You okay?” He sounded so genuinely concerned and it made my chest ache a little, still unused to being cared for.

“Yeah, why?” I asked, voice a little higher pitched than necessary as I turned to get our dinner ready, sniffing the plate of Mirelurk cakes and nearly gagging at the smell. “The cakes went bad.” I announced, still trying to sound casual, but then I heard him moving behind me.

“I said your name three times before you answered me.” He said from much closer than the couch, and a look over my shoulder revealed that he was standing in all his black leather glory about three feet from me. “And you were making the face you make when you’re thinking about something.”

I make a thinking face? And he noticed it? Could he get any more perfect?

“It’s nothing, just getting lost in thought, you know how I get when I’m tired.” I shrugged, and it was true, I turn into a total space-brain when I get too tired.

The sound of him moving met my ears and I could feel his heat at my back, he was close to me now, probably less than a foot away. “That wasn’t your space-brain face.” He said lowly, inches from my ear. “Talk to me.” I felt his rough hand wrap around my forearm soothingly, the warm weight was grounding and it made something zing down my spine when I saw the black sleeve of his shirt.

Setting down the unopened can of Cram I let out a sigh and closed my eyes. “Leather.” I said, like it would explain everything.

“Leather?” He repeated and I could picture his confused face.

“Your armor, the leather…It…” I let out another sigh, harsher this time as I got annoyed with my inability to just say it. “Your leather armor turns me on. Like really bad, and I can’t stop thinking about it and how much I want you to pin me down and fuck me within an inch of my life every time I see you in it.” The words came out in a rush, but I was sure it was clear and coherent enough for him to understand, he’s always been good at deciphering my ramblings.

I felt him get closer, till his chest pressed into my back, pinning me between him and the counter. “Do you want me to do something about it?” He had, voice somehow lower than ever before and husky and his breath is hot on my neck as his free hand wraps around the curve of my hip and gives a gentle squeeze of the softness there.

My brain ground to a pleasant halt at his words and actions, words seemed miles away now, so I nodded instead, and he let out a quiet “Tsk” before he turned me to face him, wasting no time to crowd back into me once he had me where he wanted me. “Words, Baby…Need to hear you say it.”

His foggy blue eyes were burning into mine with a heat that I’d seen before but hadn’t been able to name, usually after he watched me do something smart like hack a terminal or talk our way to a better bounty for a job, now I knew the name, it was lust.

“Please, do something about it.” The words were so quiet I was worried I’d only mouthed them for a moment, but then a small slow smile curled the corners of his lips before he leaned down and pressed them to mine.

We’d kissed before, plenty of times, usually in the privacy of camp or here at home, but it was normally just little pecks, never proper making out, and certainly nothing like this. His lips were as rough as they always were, but he moved slow, like he was savoring it as much as I was. He had his hand on my chin to tilt my head back for a better angle as he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over my lower lip, pulling a soft gasp from me that he used as an opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth.

My hands, which had felt almost numb hanging at my sides seemed to find their life again as one came to rest on his chest, curling around one of the pads of his armor and into the fabric, while the other rested on his cheek tenderly, thumb brushing back and forth along his cheekbone.

He had an almost death grip on my hip, keeping me pulled flush to his body, letting me feel every curve and angle he had to offer though the thickness of his clothes, which included the very solid presence in the front of his pants, the realization of which made my pussy ache for him.

Taking some initiative, I pressed my hips to his, grinding as best I could with our height difference, and he let out a shuddering breath, soft and warm against my lips.

I felt his muscles flex under his armor seconds before he was lifting me, a hand under my ass while the other held my thigh, prompting me to wrap my legs around his waist as he pulled back from the counter and started toward the stairs, taking me with him.

As we went, I set to work undoing the buckles and belts of his armor, determined to feel and see more of him.

By the time he was laying me out on my bed, the door kicked closed behind us, all he had to do was shrug out of his shirt, which he did before dropping to his knees between my legs, hanging off the edge of the bed.

His hands deftly worked my pants off, slipping them slowly down my legs to reveal I wasn’t wearing anything under them, giving him a perfect view of my slickened pussy.

I watched him lean in then stop inches from contact to look up at me, gazes locking, pupils dilated and questioning, like he thought that I would stop him now of all times. I nodded my assent, and he wasted not a second more before diving in, pressing kisses first to my thighs, still plush from my time in the Vault but more muscular than they had been from all the walking.

The kisses turned into bites that punched a moan from my lips, my hand flying down to grip his where it wrapped around the outside of my thigh, I felt rather than saw him smirk before he ran his tongue from the bottom of my cunt to the top where it flicked my clit, sending a zing through my body.

“Just started and your thighs are already shaking…” He murmured before repeating his previous action, making my back arch a little. “God you’re perfect.” He sounded like he was saying it more to himself than to me, and I was too lost in him to respond anyway. “All this just from some kissing and seeing me in leather…” He chuckled teasingly. “Poor thing, you’ve been desperate for so long, haven’t you?” He looked back up at me, waiting for my response, but as I managed to put together words, he slipped a thick finger into me and curled it into something that made me cry out. “I could live off the sounds you make.”

He set a slow rhythm, a steady in and out, curling on the way out into that spot over and over while continuing to flick over my clit. I could feel the knot building in my belly, and he must have noticed because he added a second finger and went from flicking to sucking.

“Fuck! Charon…!” I whimpered, grip on his hand tightening as he drove me up the hill faster than I’d ever managed on my own.

“Come on, pretty, give it to me…” He coaxed slowly, the low timbre of his voice nearly ended me right then, but no, it was the way his eyes never strayed from mine, the expanse of blue so open and waiting. I tumbled off the cliff in a show of whimpers and gasps, thighs shaking and eyes rolling closed. “There it is, atta girl.” His fingers slowed but didn’t stop, letting me ride out my orgasm.

Once I’d started teetering on the edge of overstimulation I tugged his hand, a wordless request for him to join me on the bed, one heeded with a sweet curl to his lips. He settled over me, hips resting between my thighs, the tight leather rubbing against the slowly bruising skin, and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then another on my cheek, then my nose, then finally his lips met mine and I sighed into the contact, pressing up into him with my whole body, thighs tightening on his hips in an effort to pull him closer.

He let out a shuddery breath as he rolled his hips down against me, the smooth front of his pants delivering sweet friction to my sensitive clit. “Charon…” I breathed his name to get his attention and his eyes cleared as they locked on me, waiting patiently for whatever I was going to say. “Please…” I pleaded, and both of us knew exactly what I was asking for.

His eyes grew hazy once more as his lips pressed to my neck softly, leaving a tender trail down to the hem of my shirt, where his hands followed to tug it up and off, baring me fully to his hungry eyes.

He wasted no time in continuing the sweet trail of kisses down to my chest, where he latched onto one of my nipples to give it a soft suck, the other not left neglected as his hand came to cup it, a rough thumb brushing over the pebbled tip.

He only lingered there for a few moments before sitting up, giving me a full view of his muscular chest and tummy laden with a layer of fat that made him look soft yet didn’t detract from the powerful strength I knew he possessed, and for a moment I wondered if he’d had a happy trail in the same shade of red as his hair before he went ghoul, but that thought lasted only till my eyes met the edge of those damned leather pants, where his hands were working the front open.

As if sensing that I was neither willing to wait that long nor have him move away long enough to fully remove them, he just shoved them down far enough to free his cock, letting out a sigh as the pressure that the front his pants was putting on him was relieved.

He truly is beautiful, all hard plains of scarred muscle and hands that were only gentle for me, light eyes that see into my soul and lips that make my heart sing. I could die a happy woman if it was in his arms.

He stroked his cock a couple times, spreading the precum that had clearly been leaking for a bit over the whole length, my fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch, but I knew neither of us had the patience for that right now, and there would be time later, so instead I let out a hum to get his attention.

The diamonds that made up his eyes flashed up to meet mine at the sound, looking half as if he expected something to be wrong and half like he could fall off the edge of sanity at any moment; I understood the feeling.

When I let out another hum and shifted my hips against him the worry in his gaze turned to understanding and he let out what might have been a chuckle if not for his breathlessness.

Shifting his knees where they pressed into the mattress just under my thighs, he leaned down till his face was inches from mine, so close we could share breaths, and pressed the tip to me, not pushing in, but a firm presence.

I only had eyes for him as he held there, he searched my face for a moment before seeming to find what he was looking for and pressing in slowly.

He was thick, thicker than anyone else I’d ever been with, but then he was also the largest man I’d ever seen, so it made sense.

There was a slight burning stretch that a depraved part of me loved, knowing it would leave an ache for the next day or so after we were done, and it made a pleased whimper shiver its way out of me, hands gripping his shoulders to pull him closer while my legs wrapped around him, unable to meet in the middle to lock ankles, but he seemed to understand what I was trying to do as he bottomed out.

He stayed there for a couple moments; forehead pressed into the crook of my neck as his breaths came in ragged puffs that warmed my already flushed skin. It took a moment for it to dawn on me what he was doing.

He was trying not to cum.

I ran my hands up and down his shoulders, arms, the back of his neck, anywhere I could reach soothingly, content to stay like this as long as he needed.

After a couple moments he pulled his face from its hiding spot, eyes half lidded and dark as he looked down at me. He looked like a starving man that’s been given a feast.

I barely had time to react to the shudder that that look sent through me before he was rolling his hips into me, a slow in and out, the curve of his cock brushing hard against that same spot from before on the out stroke and reaching my deepest point on every in stroke.

There was no control to be had over the sounds coming from between my lips, whimpers and gasps and half-finished cries of his name were carried on every breath, and he was no different as he let out soft grunts and sighs, eyes rolling back for a second before locking back on mine once more, like he couldn’t bear the thought of not watching me fall apart under him.

All too soon I felt the building of that sweet release, and just like before he could tell, as one hand, which had been pressed into the mattress next to my head, moved down to make tight circles over my still oversensitive clit, causing me to arch up into him with a sharp gasp.

The climb up the hill was shorter this time, and the plunge off the edge was grander as my vision went white and my body was wracked in shakes. At some point tears began to fall, leaving lines in the dust that still clung to my face from our time on the road.

I had barely enough wherewithal to feel the flood of heat that filled me as he followed me right off that cliff.

When I came back to earth, it was to the feeling of his weight carefully rested on me, most of it on his knees where they rested on either side of my body, and an arm resting next to my head, the other hand now running through my hair slowly.

Turning my head, I found him looking at me, eyes soft.

“Hi…” I whispered, voice a little hoarse from breathlessness.

A gentle smile curled his lips, eyes shining with mirth. “Hey…” He returned, the depth of his voice sending a rumble through my body.

I curled around him as best I could from my position, not caring that his softening cock was slowly slipping from me to free the mess that I knew he’d made of my insides.

We stayed like that, basking in each other for a while, before he got up to get a rag and a can of purified water. When he returned, he gently cleaned me up, then himself, then made me drink half the can before laying back down with me.

I was on the edge of sleep when his voice broke the silence. “So, leather huh?” He teased, and I could hear his smirk.

Sleep became a thing for later as peals of our laughter filled the darkness, light and happy.

[sweetrabbit]

Sherlock Know ‘’

⌕ pairings : Kim Seungmin x gn! Reader (elder brother! Lee Minho)

⌕ genre : fluff, non-idol au, lee know is overprotective and kind of a tsundere?? purely platonic on lee knows part ofc.. 🕵️‍♂️

⌕ synopsis : how would Minho react to his sibling going on a date with Kim Seungmin, or worse, dating Kim Seungmin?

⌕ warning/s : mentions of murder but used in a playful manner

⌕ a/n : i feel like my writing progressively worsened over time bc i havent been writing lately so im so so sorry if its bad 😭

inspired by “skz with little sibling! reader” by @barely-lino + “they don’t know about us.” by @lavenderlattaes

“Where are you going?” Minho catches them getting ready, it’s not like their friends are over nor was he informed they’d be even going out, so what could they possibly go to for them to dress up on a breezy friday night. Doongie, Soonie and Dori are crowding at his feet waiting for attention as he watches his little sibling smile at their phone standing in front of the body sized mirror in their room. “None of your business, Minho.”

“Do whatever you want~ but don’t expect me to pick you up past 9..” and he wouldn’t tell anyone, but he was definitely a nosy one, sitting in his room Soonie curled into a ball, Minho sat and tried to think of every possibility of why Yn was getting all ready.

And then it clicked. His little sibling was gonna go on a date! But with who? Definitely not his Chan Hyung, though they’ve met, not once have they interacted so that wasn’t possible, Changbin was far too busy in the gym. It could be anyone really, but he prays to the lords above – even if he’s an atheist – it is anyone but Kim Seungmin.

and the familiar ding of their door rang, hopefully it was their parents so he could bust them. Minho takes prideful strides towards the front door of their home, he is welcomed to a tall slim boy with his hair neatly styled into a middle part. “What do you want, Kim Seungmin?” ready to shut the door on his face, Yn is quick to appear at his side. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting..” they seemed nervous, and that’s all it took for Minho’s brain to malfunction, he froze.

His once confident smirk seemed to shatter.

“I’ll be home before midnight!” the cheery voice of his sibling snapped him out of his trance. “Yah Kim Seungmin, come back here with my sibling!”

“don’t worry about my brother, he could.. be capable of murder but he is completely harmless.” pecking their boyfriend's cheek. “I don’t think he likes me”

“Just give him some time, babe. He’s like a cat, you know, it takes some time for him to warm up to you!” rubbing his hand reassuringly while his other wraps on the steering wheel.

little did the cute couple know, Yn’s older brother was right on their tails. Putting on a very decent outfit for wherever the two were going, he grabbed his car keys, he’d made sure the cats were well off on their own before going into his car and following the two.

Seungmin and Yn had entered a nearby restaurant with few people, ordering some buk chang dong sundubu and a set of ribs.

“You look really pretty today..” Seungmin smiles softly, a light glow of the light adorning his features; pink spreading throughout his cheeks as he tries to hide behind his palms.

Grabbing his hands and intertwining their fingers together, Yn smiles back at their boyfriend “You look handsome today too.” They smile softly, staring lovingly at him.

They mirrored each other's lovesick expressions, and if anyone were to see them they’d think ‘oh what a lovely couple.’, but definitely not Minho, he stared intently at Seungmin, and he did eventually accept him dating his sibling, but he couldn’t do that without a big scary talk. He hid behind the menu instead of scanning it, the waitress waiting for him.

It felt like yesterday when he had scared them with the grasshopper he’d found in the garden, giggling menacingly at Yn’s small form scurrying towards his mother. Now he reminisces the memories of growing up with them, and this was only part of it. When did they become old enough to softly kiss Seungmin in public with little fear of others watching them? He’d frown a little ‘they’re all grown up..’

“I hope I’m not being rude, but are you still going to order, Sir? We wish to avoid any disturbances.” The waitress snaps him out of his inner monologue, his eyes move away from the couple momentarily forgetting the speech he was preparing. “Ah yes sorry, I’ll just have jjajangmyeon.” he smiles in embarrassment before handing the menu back to the waitress with a quick bow.

and the night went by quickly, the mere thought of murdering Kim Seungmin rarely passed his mind, infact he was more happy for the two but no one had to know about that, he still had the speech in his mind all ready for the time Yn decides to bring Seungmin over. He had left the restaurant with a full stomach and a happy mood.

The couple on the other hand left the restaurant not too long after Minho, opting to go to a park before calling it a night.

“Why don’t you want to sit on the grass?” Seungmin draped his hand over his lover’s shoulders, pressing a kiss on their temple, keeping his head on theirs. “Minho threw a grasshopper at me when we were kids and I never trusted grass ever since..” They both sat comfortably on a bench, giggling at one another, both because of the flashback.

“Do you see the star that shines the brightest?” Seungmin points out, his lover hums in return “that star reminds me of you because no matter how dull the world can be, you always seem to shine no matter what. Always standing out the best way you can and that’s why I love you.” He stares into Yn’s eyes as they crinkle into crescents, not being able to hold back the large smile on their face, cheeks burning red. Seungmin finds their reaction adorable, going to kiss them “Could you say that again?”

“Were you not listening?” he frowns a little, the sight tugs at Yn’s heart “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.” and now it was Seungmin’s turn to fluster, his puppy eyes closed trying to hide into their shoulder. “Ah stop it~” he whines, his lover chuckles at him “C’mon let's go home, I don’t want Minho coming at your neck because we were a minute late to 12” hand in hand the entire drive back to Yn’s home, stupidly in love smiles plastered on their faces.

“Thank you for tonight, honey.” Yn kisses Seungmin’s lips, smiling into the kiss.

They wave goodbye as Yn enters their home. Going into their room to get unready, still completely pink from what happened. “How was your date with Kim?” Minho leaned on the door frame, a knowing smirk on his face.

“I know you were at the restaurant, Minho.”

taglist: @i2abella @hwaranghae