#mister grunts a lot

[heartvisor]

LOOK at that goofy alien keel poster in the bg i don't know how on earth i've never noticed it before

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — h-hello firefighter!bakugou and heart surgeon!reader

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, sfw. mentions of hospitals, surgeons, fires, firefighting, mutual pining, crushes, he has a huge crush on you ok!! and yes i’m sorry, this is grey’s anatomy inspired ajaja

“so— open wide— what brings you in this time, blondie?”

bakugou looks at you, petulant like a child and pissed all at once— begrudgingly letting you pry open his plump rosey lips with what looks like a popsicle stick. he sticks out his tongue for good measure, letting you inspect the back of his throat for black specks of ash while he eyes you up. not that you mind.

“purse pooch,” he grunts once you let him free to notes on your clipboard to document the state of his health. he watches your hands, stable and good enough to hold hearts and feel them beat. you’ve got a grip on his own heart and you hardly know the extent of it. “some chick left her stupid dog in her apartment while the building burnt down.” your fingers are soft as they brush over his chest and then his back before you reach for your stethoscope. “i told you, ‘m fine.”

rolling your eyes, you press the cool metal tool to bakugou’s back— his shoulders rippling at the cool temperature and his tight protective shirt does nothing to hide the dips of each muscle beneath it. “who’s the chief of cardio at this hospital, blondie?” you tease him, feeling around for the dull thump of his heart. the one that you’re so used to. the one that you love to hear. you’ve been treating katsuki since you were an intern and he’d just started out as a firefighter— now you’re here, years later, an attending in cardio at a top trauma-focused hospital in Japan and katsuki, the captain of his regiment.

bakugou rebuttals with pettish silence and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “exactly. i am.” there’s something about the way his heart sounds… beating faster and faster until it seems like it’s going to burst. it makes your face drop because as a doctor, it sounds like his heart is sick and not like he’s panicked over how close you are. “and i don’t go telling you how to do your job mister ‘i run into fires and save stupid dogs’, although i should. i see you in this ER more than i see my own apartment. dogs aren’t stupid by the way.”

“they are, ‘nd i told you, i’m fine.” amused, the blonde swats you away and clears his throat nervously when you meet his eye, moving to face him with the stethoscope hovering over his chest this time. stupidly and perfectly sculpted, it makes you hot under the skin.

“are not,” you respond to both of his statements like a child goading another one into getting in trouble. you even stick your tongue too. “and the girl was obviously worried sick about her pet. they can mean a lot people. just as much as a person can. when you love something, someone, their lives are important.”

just as you finish your wistful speech, katsuki’s pulse speeds on the monitor and your resident who had taken over charting perks up at the incessant beeping. “uh, doc? should we be concerned about that?”

you shouldn’t be. medically, it’s nothing — the firefighter is just flustered by you and your existence. how you speak so tenderly about someone’s love for something. to everyone else in this hospital including you, katsuki’s heart rate could be an indicator of something dangerous or life-ending instead of the obvious crush he has on you.

bakugou’s cheeks warm as he tries to bat your resident off of him— he can just tell that they want something to be wrong with him so the case can turn surgical. “get off’a me, twerp!” he spits, sourly. “i’m fine!”

“i’m the doctor, i decide when you’re fine. you decide when and how the fire goes out.” you’re scolding him, bantering with the man and it drives him up the wall— gives him another reason to fall for you.

relenting, and no longer fighting treatment— bakugou keeps talking to you, hungry for more than just your medical attention. “okay, the dog wasn’t stupid. it was…just dumb of the chick to leave him. he meant a lot to her son ‘nd that typa carelessness pisses me off. went back in to keep the kid from losin’ his animal…am i off the hook now?”

“so you do have a heart, i knew you went back in there for a reason.” you smile softly despite your worry for his health, repeatedly checking his pulse on the monitor until you can get it down. “he’s got elevated breath sounds on the right and a racing pulse. no soot in his lungs but i’d like to get him up to CT just to double check.” you tell your resident and step back to put the arms of his bed up.

“how many times do i gotta tell you, doc? i’m fine!”

bakugou grows grumpier. maybe because after all these years of him coming in for check-ups…you haven’t realised how much he likes you.

how much me might even love you.

“i know that, but i want to make sure, and i figured you’d want to stay with me for a few extra hours while i check up on you.” honey runs through his ears as you speak, leaning over bakugou to lower his bed and wheel him around with your resident.

bakugou blushes profusely, forgets how to breathe and how to speak. “s-shut up,” he stutters.

because you still don’t know how much of his heart you hold in your practiced hands.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Breaking Free

[A/N: I’m driving home for my externship (and Thanksgiving!) so you know what that means- too much time on the road to daydream 🙃 Pls enjoy Gibbs being an infuriating slut]

Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x female reader

__________

You repeatedly pat your boyfriend’s arm, pointing to his left at a sign that’s sure to snag you the win of your road trip competition. It’s become an annual tradition to pass the time by finding the most outrageous billboards on your way to Thanksgiving with your parents and Jethro’s father in Pennsylvania.

“That’s gotta be the best one,” you say confidently. “It even has a handcuff reference for you!”

The large sign promises that if you’re Shackled by LUST? then Jesus can FREE you.

Jethro grunts by way of acknowledgment then poses, “You scream oh my god a lot when I’m inside you- d’ya think that counts?”

“Not, like, a lot a lot,” you protest ever so eloquently, incensed by the smirk blooming on his face and his clever avoidance of admitting defeat.

Clearly your darling boyfriend takes that as a challenge.

The hand resting on your denim clad thigh begins creeping higher and you cut your eyes over to Jethro to find his focus is still dutifully on the expanse of highway ahead. “Whatcha doin’ there, Jay?”

“Driving,” he answers easily, hand moving higher yet. The corner of his lips visible to you arches upward when he meets the cool metal of the button on your jeans, but his smile falters when he fumbles to get it open. “Little help here?”

Raising one eyebrow, you counter, “You wanna prove a point, you put in the work, mister.”

He huffs out a breath, then twists his wrist and finally succeeds in popping the button open with a triumphant laugh. Jethro doesn’t even bother to try with the zipper after that; he simply shoves his hand into your pants so the zipper gets forced down its track.

You gasp when his fingers slide through your folds, and Jethro produces a quiet growl in the back of his throat when he finds you already wet for him. That sound alone has you moaning out a low, “Oh my god,” and your boyfriend outright laughs at you while his middle finger circles your clit. “That was only once- oh fuck, oh my god- okay, twice, you jerk,” you feebly defend yourself.

Jethro sinks two fingers knuckle deep into your pussy with an amused hum, and you slap your palm against the roof of the truck while crying out a third iteration of the deity-invoking phrase. “I can’t- oh fuck me- stand you sometimes,” you bite out, lifting your hips to help Jethro’s fingers slip in and out of you with ease.

“Good thing you’re sitting then,” he fires back, chancing a glance away from the road to smirk at you.

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth in a feeble attempt to muffle your cries, but Jethro brushes his palm over your clit while curling his fingers and another breathy, “Oh my god,” slips out of your traitorous mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” your boyfriend praises you, no longer bothering to mask his delight. “Free yourself from those shackles.”

A laugh punches out of you that morphs into a wanton moan when he curls his fingers again, and your cries rise higher and higher in pitch until you’re clenching around Jethro’s fingers, calling out a litany of curses with a healthy dose of his name mixed in. You drop back into the seat, boneless, with a final, “Oh my god.”

Jethro slips his slick-coated fingers out of your still throbbing cunt and points out your window to another billboard flying by, then runs his sinful tongue along his fingers, groaning at your taste. “I’m always right,” he asserts with a content hum, “and I win.”

__________

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24

[coldfanbou]

Presents

I got the idea earlier, and Nayeon happened to post something I could use, so I took it as a sign. So we have a soft Nayeon smut for this week.

Length 1.8K

Nayeon x Mreader

Sitting on the floor, you have the pieces of your Christmas tree arranged around you as you assemble it. Nayeon looks on from the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. You glance at her, noticing her smile. “This would be a lot faster if you helped me, you know.” 

“I like watching you work. You’re so big and strong.” You shake your head at the compliment. The praise was meant to make you drop your request.

“I’ll build it, but you have to put the lights on it.” Glancing back at Nayeon, you see her pout before she fills her cheeks with air. It was cute and made you chuckle. “You have to do something, Nayeon. So just get the lights and all that ready, will you?” Nayeon puts down her cup and heads to the storage cupboards, looking for the box of Christmas lights from last year. After grabbing them, she brings the rest of the tree decorations. You finish putting the tree together. It was bare, not having any leaves on it. 

You turn your head in her direction as she brings in the decorations. You smile; Nayeon had put one of the garlands around her neck and the lights around her body. “Do you like your present?” You laugh as you walk over to her. 

“It’s the best present I could ask for.” You pull on the garland, making Nayeon come to you. She wraps her arms around you as you embrace. You give her a little kiss on the forehead and are about to let her go when she pulls you back in.

“No! Right here!” She whines, pointing at her lips. You give Nayeon a proper kiss, pressing your lips against hers. You feel her arms get a little tighter as she holds you in place. You hold onto her waist, feeling her slowly loosen her grip on you. You break apart and see the satisfied smirk on her face. “There, all better.” You shake your head and pat hers before walking over to the cup of tea she left out. Nayeon starts layering the garlands on the tree before beginning with the lights. The tree already had lights on the end of the branches, but the plain white light coming from them didn’t feel very festive. Nayeon kept the garland around her neck, combined with her fuzzy hat; it was a cute image. You pull out your phone and take pictures of her as she puts on the lights. You’ll keep them as funny memories. 

Once Nayeon has finished with all the lights, you walk back to her, putting your arm around her shoulder and taking in the sight of your tree. You give Nayeon a kiss on the cheek and tell her she did a fantastic job. You notice she got a bit sweaty putting the lights on and ask her if the garland caused all that. Nayeon punches your shoulder in response. “And what’s my gift, mister? I deserve something nice for all the hard work I put in.”

“Well, I’m not sure you deserve a gift. You’ve been very naughty this year.” You reply, giving Nayeon a spank. She opens her mouth wide and sees the look on your face. She immediately understands what you’re doing. 

“I promise to be a good girl from now on.” She says in a sickly sweet voice. 

“You’ll have to convince me that you can be a good girl, Nayeon.” 

Nayeon takes off her fuzzy hat, throwing it on the couch before getting on her knees. “Let me show you how good I can be.” She says while pulling down your pants. She pulls your cock, and gives it a couple of strokes. As it comes to life, Nayeon spits on her hand and begins her handjob. She moves from base to head slowly, her big, soft hands wrapping around your shaft. “Am I a good girl yet?” You shake your head and grunt, Nayeon’s handjobs were the best, and you thoroughly enjoyed them. After hearing that, Nayeon stopped stroking your cock as she reached the head. She moves her thumb over the tip and rubs it, making small circular movements. It makes you groan, more so when you feel Nayeon’s tongue at the base of your shaft. It was warm and coated your shaft in saliva as she moved her way up. Once Nayeon reached the head, she took her hand off it, letting it slap onto her awaiting tongue. She takes the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it slowly as she stroked your cock. 

You place your hand on her head, guiding her as she bobs her head. “You’re earning that present right now.” You feel Nayeon’s lips form a smile before she refocuses. When you look down, you can see her small mouth wrapped tightly around your cock. You start to move your hips, letting her head remain in place. You push your cock down her throat, and the tightness of it makes you groan. Knowing she needed to breathe, you pull back. Nayeon takes a few deep breaths before opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, waiting patiently for you to put it back in. You slide your cock back into Nayeon’s mouth; her tongue runs along the underside of your cock. You moan Nayeon’s name as you reach her throat again. You start thrusting, Nayeon’s saliva coats your cock. It collects at her lips and runs down her chin when you push back in. Nayeon moves her hand under her skirt, moving her finger along her folds through her panties. A wet spot quickly develops. Nayeon begins to look at you with hungry eyes. You both know you’re close to cumming. Your cock is starting to throb. Nayeon places her hand on your thigh, pulling you in.

You moan Nayeon’s name again before shoving your cock down her throat. Your cum shoots straight down her throat. Nayeon’s muffled moans are still loud as she goes through her orgasm. Her panties are soaked through, her nectar staining them. 

As you pull out of Nayeon, you take the time to slap her tongue with your cock. “Thank you for the present.” Nayeon moans as she wipes the saliva from her chin. “Do you have any more for me? Because I have a present for you.” Nayeon falls onto her back and pulls up her skirt, revealing to you her wet panties. Nayeon grabs the bottom of her shirt and takes it off. Her breasts are now free, and you grow hard again. Her beautiful mounds seemed to grow in the past few years. You crawl over Nayeon until you reach her tits; you squeeze the left and run your tongue over the right. Nayeon’s gasps turn into moans. She holds you to her chest with one arm while the other tries to get her skirt off. You help her as best as you can, leaving Nayeon naked on the floor.

You slowly align yourself with Nayeon and press your cock against her entrance. She whispers into your ear to do it. A second later, you’re driving your cock deep inside of Nayeon. Her pussy welcomes you, gripping you tightly as you push deeper and deeper. Once you’re buried inside Nayeon, you kiss her. She returns it, moving her tongue along your lips. You place your hands along her thighs, giving them rough squeezes as you pull out and thrust back in. Nayeon moans into the kiss, her legs wrapping around you. You break the kiss and move to her neck, giving it small licks. You feel Nayeon’s walls squeeze your cock when you lap at her neck. When you look at her face, you see her biting her bottom lip with her eyes closed. You hadn’t noticed her moans go quiet. She’s trying to keep her voice down.

“Let me hear you.” You whisper into her ear. Nayeon releases her voice, and you hear her beautiful moans. They’re constant and powerful as you slam yourself into her. Nayeon pulls you in close. You feel her walls constrict around your cock, rubbing every part of it. You groan, the pleasure filling your body. “I’m going to cum, Nayeon.” Nayeon nods her head, giving you the go-ahead to cum inside her. You drive yourself back inside her, filling her up before you explode inside her. Your hot cum fills her pussy. Nayeon’s cunt, tightens around you, milking your cock.

You remained attached to Nayeon until both orgasms passed. You pull out slowly and see the mess you’ve made. Cum leaks out of Nayeon’s cunt, her nectar mixing with it. The sight makes you get hard again. You pull Nayeon up and place her on your lap as you sit on the couch. You spread her legs and ram your cock back into her. She moans loudly, “I just came, hold on.” You were both sensitive, but you didn’t care. You reach for her mounds, squeezing one in your hand as you use the other to hold onto Nayeon’s waist. You buck your hips, moving your cock inside Nayeon. It rubs against her G-spot and makes her scream. Nayeon is resting against your body, tired. As you thrust, she lets out more moans, and her cunt grows tighter with each thrust. You play with Nayeon’s tits at the same time, massaging them and pinching her nipples. Nayeon turns her head to the side and asks you for a kiss. You give it to her as you continue to use her body. The kiss muffles your moans. You feel Nayeon nearing climax and get closer to it. You pull on Nayeon’s nipples as you bury yourself inside her again. 

You trigger Nayeon’s orgasm with yours. Your cum floods her cunt again, painting her walls white as it rushes into her womb. Nayeon’s walls hold your cock tightly, not wanting to let a single drop escape. Nayeon slowly rocks her hips as you move to lay on your side. You move your hands to Nayeon’s stomach, holding her close as both of you look at your Christmas tree. You keep yourself inside Nayeon past your orgasm, letting her act as a cock warmer. 

“Thanks for the present.” She mumbles, turning her head slightly to get a look at you. You kiss the back of her head in response. “You did get me an actual present, though, right?” Nayeon’s concern for a physical present makes you chuckle.

“Of course I did. You’re my little bunny. I wouldn’t forget to get you a Christmas gift.” You and Nayeon continue to stare at the christmas tree.  “You got me a gift, right?” There’s a moment of silence between your question and when Nayeon answers.

“I’m your present.” She says. You shake your head. You knew she would answer like that. Tired from your fun, the two of you drift off to sleep on the couch; you’d clean everything up later.

[sashi-ya]

東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑬ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ toji fushiguro x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. a miserable Toji founds the living image of his death wife in you, a sex worker at Kabukicho.

requested by: Anonymous ➡ omg i've been waiting for you to write for jjk!!! please Sashi, can you write an nsfw toji x f! reader with the prompt The red lights of Kabukichō. tw: MNDI. dark! content. reader is a sex worker from the kabukicho red district. toji has no respect for you. oral, rough, spanking, slapping, unprotected sex, cream pie implied, you look like Megumi's mom. first time I write for Toji pls be soft on me. wc: 2k masterlist

A lucky round, for the very first time at Pachinko. Fushiguro Toji feels pleased; he lies on the backrest of his seat, right in front of an old machine and next to many other people desperately trying to win something. The more desperate they get, the more they lose.

Poker, Mahjong, horse races. money, lose the money. lose your life, lose the time until it is over.

“It looks like you have a lot of luck tonight, mister” a woman whose face he simply ignores, paws his wide frame.

“Get off, bitch” he mutters, scaring her away with his sharp -but really tired- eyes.

The lady walks away, spitting expletives that Toji couldn’t hear -nor cared to do so-. However, consequences were about to hit him.

Two guys, or maybe gorillas, appeared right behind his seat. “Sir, I must ask you to leave” one of them says, trying to snatch him from behind, passing one of the arms around his neck.

Unfortunately for them, as well as for Toji, the strength and speed of his Zen’in body  allows him to not only avoid the attack but also smash the head of the aforementioned gorilla against the Pachinko machine.

“Fuck you” he grunts, knowing too damn well the aggression didn’t come because of him disrespecting a lady but rather because his “luck” wasn’t welcomed into their business.

Honestly, given the right moment, Toji would have killed them both in no time… but tonight was different; some years -he doesn’t even remember how many- have passed and today marked the anniversary of his wife passing.

Toji stole a bun from the guy that was sitting by his side and walked away from the Pachinko parlor before the astonished looks of the people there. Nobody dared to follow him, they knew death would find them if they dared to mess a single second more with that man.

His steel blue eyes shine red as the lights of Kabukichō receive him in their sensual embrace. The attractive concupiscence of beautiful women dancing on windows catches his attention, but no woman is enough to make him feel any type of pleasure.

He is well aware of the many scams there, but he is sure nobody could scam him more than he could scam them.

Many women and men come closer, wearing revealing suggesting outfits; they touch him, they call him inside their “shops”. Yet, Toji still walks unaware, as if possessed. Some even offer him their services for free, his handsomeness is undeniable; his strong physique, delicious and tempting.

“Sir, sir!” you call him, tapping insistently on his wide shoulder. “SIR!” you repeat, as he seems not to hear anything around.

Toji turns around, all of a sudden, grabbing your hand to stop poking him. “What the fuck do you want, I don’t wanna fuck you… you…” he angrily barks, stopping immediately after watching your face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to… your… your wallet just fell from your pants” you tell him, scared and feeling the tight grip intensify around your wrist.

His eyes burn holes into yours, his expression turns troubled, darker. He is not blinking, and perhaps even not breathing.

“Do you work here?” he asks. “It’s my first night… I was promoting that- bar” you point out to the entrance of a quite ratchet facility of red and pink lights and semi naked woman pictures on their walls.  “I… your wallet” you murmur, showing him the black ragged leathery pouch that feels light and empty.

He lets your arm go and takes the wallet with absolutely no interest. His eyes, however, never let go of your face… you must be an interest to him?

“You… what’s your surname?” he asks, as if he was waiting to hear something revealing.

You frown; why would a complete stranger ask for your surname? Men in here only want one thing, and to them what’s your name is totally irrelevant for that purpose.

“It’s (Surname)” you tell him, either way. You had nothing to lose, after all.

He seems relieved but also a little disappointed. Truth is, that you look incredibly similar to his late wife… “Come here, I want you” he simply states, pulling from your hand to the inside of your work place.

You follow him with no time to say no… you wouldn’t say no anyway.

There is not much your boss can do either; he is in fact pleased to know that right after he hired you, you have already given him a client.

You open the door to the “rooms”. Precarious looking places that no man cares about as they only care the true purpose of his visit.

Once inside one of them, you close the door, and the red lights bathe both of your bodies as if it was a blood bath.

“Sir, which service would yo-“ you ask, but you are immediately silenced by his hand on your mouth. He pushes you to a round bed, making your back hit violently the mattress. You blink twice before he could pounce into you.

Toji is big enough to smash you with his body, and you honestly would love to die underneath his prominent chest tonight.

“I don’t care about the services you give, spread those legs” he orders, slapping the inner side of your knees.

You let your legs open wide, falling to each side. The short skirt you were wearing invites him to taste you; the buffed man with a scar on his lip sees everything you have to offer.

He smirks, so dark. And then, takes his black shirt off. His body is by far better than what you thought that tight shirt had already revealed to you. Each muscle perfectly showing like it’s been sculpted on his skin. The wide shoulders and prominent collarbones and pecs… he is the total embodiment of carnal desire.

Toji’s brute hands rip your almost transparent thong now; the elastic band snapping on your hipbone makes you squirm owning yourself to get his hand around your neck. “Stay still, bitch. You will have enough time to squirm around once I fuck you”

Your insides tremble, your core tenses. Such a disrespect makes you hornier instead of mad.

“Y-yes…” you stutter, finishing your words with a loud moan as his fingers penetrate you. Your back arches, and the more it does, the more he squeezes your neck.  

With lack of air and probably blue lips, your eyes turn white from pleasure. Your legs tend to close but you can’t as Toji prevents them to shutting.

“Hold on there, don’t close them. I need to prep you, you are too tight to me” he spits, reaching deeper with curled beckoning fingers hitting your top wall. You clench to the sheets, coffing and trying to grasp for some air… this man will kill you, and you will be smiling at him.

He takes his fingers out of you, giving you some seconds to rest. You watch your own arousal dripping down his hand and forearm. Toji sticks his tongue out in a disgusting, yet absolutely sexy way, and licks your salty products right from there.

“Not as good as my wife, but still good” he murmurs, leaving you startled… he has a wife?

Well, not exactly.

He turns you around from your right ankle, this man’s strength surpasses any limits. Your face hit the mattress, leaving you a little bit dizzy from the fall. Immediately after you could react, you feel two big hands lifting your ass from under your lower belly.

Knees carved on the bed, and also head as one of his heavy hands pass from your waist to your nape.

You sense two fingers spreading your folds, and the wet tongue of him licking from your clit to your ass. He has absolutely no decorum to do it, he does it so disgustingly lustful. Toji’s nose buries in your perineum as he sometimes focuses on your throbbing clit, sucking hard until your inner thighs begin to spasm and tremble.

Some spanks are added, that leave your cheeks burning. He goes even down, hitting the back of your thighs, a place that hurts but makes it even better. You are sure by now you must have created a pool of your fluids underneath you, and if not… well, you are most likely about to.

“Ehj… so wet…” he pants once he stops eating you out.

With difficulty you see him through the mirrored walls cleaning his mouth with the back of his forearm. Slanted eyes peek through black strands of hair, they meet yours and It’s both scary and hot.

Toji smirks, so devilishly and turns you once again around from your leg. You are like a mere doll to him.

He buries his fingers in your cheeks, making your lips pout and your eyes widen. You are still panting, so your breathing sounds loudly in between your fingers and a drop of saliva pools right in the middle of your lower lip.

That man has the look of a murderer, of a devil. With just one hand he gets rid of his grey pants along with his underwear. Your eyes confirm why he mentioned the need of you getting “prepped” as he exhibits his hard sex.

Purplish tip, veiny. It is not gigantic, but still constitutes a challenge for anyone to be able to take it. He is not going slow, nor carefully… and you know that for sure.

“I’m going raw, hope you are ready to become a single mother” he lets you know, as if you didn’t know already. You limit yourself to nod. You are honestly more worried for the integrity of your insides than that.

Toji kneels on the bed, sitting on top of his heels. He grabs you by your hips, pulling you over his lap to get your sex closer to his. A sex that with the simple touch of his warm precum covered tip makes your already overstimulated you to shiver.

His fist, also veiny, clench around his shaft. Toji pumps up and down two or three times and then plays with your wetting mess and his, giving you little slaps with his tip.

Strings of transparent lubrication mix; your neediness is that big you squeeze one of your breasts… it seems eternal, the wait, the desire…

The penetration. “Ngh…”

You arch your back while Toji penetrates you deeper and mercilessly, there is no escape as he has you trapped by the sides of your hips. Your toes curl, feeling the stretching of your cunt, and swearing his tip has probably reached a place nobody has ever reached inside you.

He begins fucking you, without moving a single muscle but his muscular arms. He is using you as a fleshlight, and his eyes are fixed in your beautiful pleasure façade.

“Keep moaning that way, you are almost identical” he grunts, moving you in and out faster and harder.

You aren’t very sure to who you are almost identical, but your brain has become nothing but a mere dumb slave of that lustful sexual torture.

He lifts from his heels, along with you. Your face and barely any of your nape remain on the mattress. To him moving your body, he adds his own hip thrusts. The sound of your skin slapping is almost as loud as your whining.

His forearm is the only thing holding you up by the small of your back, while his free hand now rips your little shirt open. Your breasts bounce in pure freedom, calling him to bite them so brutally. And so, he bends over to reach for your hard nipples.

Toji’s eyes never leave your façade, he seems possessed as he enjoys and also suffers.

“Fuck you bitch, how come you are that similar to her… you do the same fucking face” he spits, slapping your face and then burying his index and middle finger inside your mouth.

You choke but suck desperately. Your moans get muffled by his salty fingers; your sex has already undergone the stage of climax more than twice.

He can go for hours, pumping deep in you, biting your breasts, slapping you… and he does, until your conscious begins to fade, and he wishes to fill you up.

“Hold my cum inside, maybe I can give the fucking clan another kid” “Sir…? Which clan?”

I only touched her; I only fucked her because she looked just like you… I miss you, I miss you, I miss you so much...

[darkravens-blogs]

Alastor headcanons

Alastor x wife reader

Summary:where after sir pentious takes the piece of Alastor’s suit and Alastor burns you fix it with your powers

“Alastor you remember sir pentious” Charlie said as sir pentious waved his hand as to say hi I waved back unlike my husband”ah yes your the one who ruined my coat I definitely remember you now”. “Ah yes mister radio demon sir please for give me for ruining your very lovely coat um here” sir pentious said and handed him a piece of his coat.”Oh-ho, not many people have been able to take even this much off me. It must have meant quite a lot to you.” He said and lit the pice of fabric on fire.when I see the sad look on sir pentious face I feel sad for him”ALASTOR!!” I yell at my husband”hmm”he hums “couldn’t you tell he was proud of that ugh”i grunt at him and lean down to the pile of ash and twirl my pointer finger and the pile of ash and it turns back into the piece of fabric.”hear you go dear I would put this somewhere you won’t loose it treasure it hun “you say and hand it to him and ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek.”t-t-thank you miss” sir pentious says with a blush in his cheeks.alastor let out a growl”my doe what are you doing” “well you could clearly tell that he was proud of that and he looked so sad just let him have this please Al” you say and put your hand in his cheek and give him a soft smile.he let out another growl and a sigh”fine but you’ll pay for this later you can trust in that”he said the last part in his radio static voice in my ear. “ mm I’m looking forward to it”you say back to him. Let’s just say it was a long night after that.

[ectologia]

Bakugou meets a cute little fan who will do anything to please him so he decides to fuck them pls and thank <3

ICON

KATSUKI BAKUGOU X F!READER

𝐂𝐖 ♱ COERCION, DUBCON, PROFANITY, DICK RIDIN’, MISOGYNY, ABUSE, GOD COMPLEX BAKUGOU?

The expensive leather creaks as you sit down, folding your petite skirt below the curve of your ass.

“Thank you so much for inviting me Mister Dynamite, this is such an honour I can’t ev—”

You’re shushed by a thick finger hovering in front of your face, behind it, deep crimsons blink down at you. “Just Bakugou.”

You nod frantically, your lips pulling into a toothy grin under the guise that you get to call him something so intimate.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, deep and rumbling from the back of his throat. His chair swings as he collapses into the plush seat, dabbing a finger over his tongue before flipping through a stack of thin, crumpled papers. “You’re quite the writer, huh?”

Your ears perk, squinting your eyes at the envelopes piled in his massive, scarred hands. “Oh, you got my letters?”

“Was I not supposed to?” His tone is harsh, but the curvature of his mouth tells you the opposite.

A lock of hair is flicked behind your shoulder as you giggle, wetting your lips as you attempt to think up an equally witty response. You settle for a simple hum of agreement, rocking your knees back and forth.

He clears his throat with a gruff hack. “Dear Mister Dynamite..” He goes off on a tangent of inconspicuous mumbling, pulling away to peer at you through his periphery. “.. I love and admire you so much, and I’de honestly do anything to be with you.”

Your cheeks prickle. “Uhm.. I don’t remember writing that one.” You punctuate with a crooked smile and warbled laugh.

“Mm.” You’re unable to tell if his expression screams unimpressed or amused. He slaps the envelopes down, spreading out into a fan along the polished surface as he turns to face you head on. “Anything?”

You cock your head, sitting rigid and tense against the spine of your chair. “Pardon?”

“You’d do anything — to be with me?” His brows knit, tilting his chin up in judgement.

“Oh.”

That was a good question.

Would you really do anything?..

Yes, you think you would.

“Mhm.”

His lips jut out as he sends you a slow, approving nod, scratching at the golden stubble peppered along his jaw. “Anything seems like a lot, doesn’t it?”

You swallow harshly, tapping the length of your glossy nails against the edge of your seat. “Mhm.”

He braces his palms against the flat of his desk, hoisting himself up with a grunt. His combat boots thud against the resin floor as he makes his way towards you in slow, deafening strides.

You gulp once he looms over your timid form, clasping the back of your chair in both hands. The broadness of his shoulder’s completely shielding you from the rest of the room, trapped and caged between his massive, scarred arms.

“I’ve got something for you to do.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He croons through grit-teeth, pawing and squeezing at your waist in rough bursts. “Bounce on that dick, bounce on that big fat cock for me.”

You squeal and thrum with every hop, two feet planted on the domes of his knees as you fuck yourself in his lap. He joins you in your endeavour, raising and dipping his hips with rapid momentum to feel the pulpy insides of your pussy catch on his tip. The flimsy joints of your wrists are taken and knotted in his palms, held by your sides to keep you pinned down as he juts into the pudge of your mini slit. “Look at you. Doin’ the world a favour, taking care of your favourite hero.”

You nod fervently, gasping in time with his merciless pounding. He exchanges one of the hands clasped around your wrist to thumb at your clit, pulling the tiny pearl out from it’s hood to scrub at it with avid intent. You jolt and jerk against the calloused pad, circling your horny cunny into his palm

“You like being my skanky little hero-fucker?”

“Uh huh! Uh huh!”

He coos, flicking at your puffy folds. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

You chime and rock yourself on top of his thighs, squatting in his lap like a little bunny as he plows into your sloppy twat. “I love you Mister Bakugou, you’re the best hero ever!”

At this he chuckles with malice, snaking a hand around your back to give your ass a firm spank. “Such a little dick rider ain’t ya?” He allows you the privilege of settling your hands atop his shoulders, swishing his head once your small, blossom-tipped fingers spider up the nape of his neck. The moment your eyes flutter shut, you’re slapped, the ripened flesh of your cheek squeezed and punctured in his palm.

“Look at me, look at your hero while he fucks your pathetic excuse of a pussy.”

Your movement’s falter while his only increase.

“This is hero cock you’re bouncing on right now, better be fuckin’ grateful. I could be out banging models and porn-stars, but Instead I decided to be generous and invite your little ass over to come and ride my dick.”

Your throat is locked in a death grip as he drills into your cunt from below, sharp ruby’s trained on how your chubby slit puffs up and deflates with every push of his length inside your tiny hole.

“Mi— Baku— gou— too fa— ah— ast!” Your cries fissure in time with his thrusts.

A blond head snaps up to glare at you. “Do I look I give a shit? Shut the fuck up and take it.”

He pumps his member into you one, two, three more times until you’re flung onto the ground, grazing your bare ass against the polished marble as you stare up at the angry red tip peeking out from his fist. The seed-sized hole puckers with creamy jizz until he erupts, cursing and howling as beads of white spray out over his naked lap and balls.

“What?” He peers down at your hurt expression, blinking up at him like a deer in headlights. “You didn’t think I was gonna cum inside did you?” It was practically laughable to him. “Oh, baby. You’re no where near worth my seed.”

His belt is snapped back in place and the damp spikes of his hair are smoothed back to a point.

“Go clean yourself up, babe. Your pussy’s dribbling all over my floor.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Being Jack then childhood friend now wife and supporting him through his journey and dose her best to help

Even traveling to Japan as she did told him she have one living grandparent who she still in contact, and imagine thinking Kaoru sees Jack wife who she is genuine kind and not leaving her husband for anyone

Google translate is our enemy but I think I picked up what you were putting down.

I also love how we all believe Kaoru is the definition of “Mister Steal Your Girl.” He’d be so smitten with a partner who is so loyal, he’d be pulling out the stops. Kaoru hates being rejected too

This is more of a take on angst because I think Canon Jack would be a horrible (neglectful) partner

Baki Short Stories: Wake Up

Jack Hanma x fem reader x Hanayama Kaoru

…………………………………………………

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested for you to understand?” A young woman crosses her arms over her chest as she glared at Kaoru. The yakuza boss would not leave her alone no matter how many times she rejected him. “I’m married.”

Kaoru simply grunted and pushed the bouquet of roses towards her again in an attempt for her to accept them. Kaoru didn’t understand what she saw in Jack.

Jack was more of an unrefined animal rather than a man. He was primal and unhinged. Jack was terrifying and he seemed like a loose canon. What on earth did a dime like you see in a creature like that?

Kaoru truly believed with all his heart that he was the proper choice. He was rich and he was refined. He could give you a life of pleasure and luxury… maybe just as dangerous but he was sure he could keep you safe. Safer than Jack ever could. What did Jack have to offer you that made you cling so faithfully to his side?

(Your name) could almost read Kaoru’s thoughts just from the emotions he held in his dark eyes. There was a storm brewing under them. This oaf has probably never been rejected before so he saw her as a challenge rather than anything romantically. Which is why she adored Jack. Jack was honest with his intentions.

She knew she was second to Jack’s goal in defeating his father but she was okay with it. Jack and her had a close bond and a lot of trust. She also acknowledged that Jack would always be too busy to cheat on her since he hardly made time for her as well. And she was okay with it. She was pretty low maintenance anyways.

“Please leave.” She then shut the door on Kaoru’s face before he could speak. A sigh slipping from her lips as she ran a hand through her hair. How troublesome.

She pranced over to the couch and sat down to turn on the tv. She drowned out Kaoru’s incessant knocking. Hopefully he’d give up soon.

A part of her was flattered by his attention since she didn’t get much in her relationship but she was fine with the way things were. (Your name) had fully convinced herself that she didn’t need to constantly be doted on. She was fine with being alone for long periods of time so long as Jack came back to her.

Sure she never received flowers or was complimented on her appearance but it was okay. (Your name) was happily married to Jack and he was a man of few words. She was fine just being his companion. She didn’t need to be taken on dates or to be wined and dined. (Your name) was low maintenance. She wasn’t a hindrance to Jack and his goals.

(Your name) would follow Jack to the ends of the earth so long as she was the only one he’d hold at night. The only one he trusted.

Once Kaoru had finally left, she turned off the tv with a frown. Was it okay that Jack didn’t pay much attention to her? Was that really a relationship?

(Your name) smiled sadly as she glanced at the wedding pictures that lined the tv stand. Jack wasn’t even smiling in those pictures…

She shook her head. She couldn’t let Kaoru’s doting get to her head. She was a married woman now, it’s not like she could run away whenever she wanted. (Your name) swore to love Jack through sickness and health and she would.

Even if she was simply an afterthought to him, she wouldn’t give up on him.

(Your name) hasn’t even told Jack about this whole situation that’s been going on for the last few months. She knew Jack couldn’t be bothered with it. It’s not like he’d care.

Jack has always been the only person in her life so she felt an obligation to him. Even if…

(Your name) froze when she felt a dampness on her cheeks. Her fingers tentatively touching the salty streams in shock. When’s the last time she cried?

Perhaps she’s been so numb to her neglect that she finally was breaking down? The realization was setting in and a feeling of hopelessness consumed her.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. She was fine. She was okay. (Your name) did this to herself. She was a big girl and she could live with the consequences of her actions.

(Your name) quickly recollected herself and stood up from the couch to head to bed. Perhaps some sleep would make her feel better?

She settled herself into the plush sheets with a dreamy sigh. If she pretended long enough, maybe, just maybe she could imagine the warmth she felt was from the one her heart craved so dearly. That it was Jack laying beside her with his arms wrapped around her waist instead of a heated blanket. That Jack was whispering compliments in her ears after buying her a bouquet of roses.

Who was she kidding? She was totally and utterly alone.

And she was finally waking up from her dream…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your second day isn’t as intimidating. You find your desk by yourself and even remembered your honey bear mug! You tuck your bag underneath as your computer boots and check your phone for any updates from your blog. Nothing special, just a hobby.

You yawn and sign in, taking two tries to remember your credentials correctly. You check the shared calendar and see that you have a meeting after lunch with IT. Daniella mentioned you had to get your security passes before the end of the week, that’s probably what that’s for.

You swivel back and forth as you open up your training list. You’re making good progress. You think. You don’t really know. It seems like a lot and despite feeling as if you’ve run a marathon, there are only a few ticks marked off.

Before you dive in, you need a pick-me-up. You really liked that butterscotch coffee but you might try something new. You enter the kitchen and wait behind a woman you don’t know as she brews her coffee. When she’s done, she returns your ‘good morning’ but doesn’t stop to chat. Must be a busy day.

You place your cup on the tray and pick out a French Vanilla pod. You don’t really know what the difference between regular vanilla and French vanilla is. Maybe the French stuff is fancy. Ooh la la.

You hum as the coffee grinds. It sounds angry. Well, it is probably the most overworked fellow in this place. Every day, seeing the heart caffeine hounds, having them poke his face, and glare until he does his jobs.

It’s a machine. Your mother always said you put a bit too much empathy into objects without sentience. Well, your English teacher shouldn’t have made you read that book about Electric Sheep or whatever.

Your cup is full and you grab it, focused on putting the lid on it to keep it nice and warm. As you turn, you fail to stop in time. Your hand knocks against the man’s chest and you gasp as coffee splashes onto his dark shirt. Not much as you manage to block most of it but enough to make him grunt and step back.

It’s him! Oh no. You’ve upset him again.

“I’m sorry, mister,” you say as you hold out your dripping cup, “I didn’t hear you. You sure are quiet.”

He grumbles and stomps to the sink, slamming his mug down as he snatches paper towels from the dispenser. You bite your lip nervously and near. You keep your cup from dripping onto your light blue cardigan with the little white clouds.

“Can I have some–”

He wipes his hands and shirt with a growl. He swipes up his cup without and answer and moves around you to the coffee machine. His cup hits the tray hard and he jabs the screen as it beeps at him in demand of a pod. He takes one and peels open the package before shoving it inside.

“I’m really sorry,” you say as you dry off your cup and fix the lid firmly, “you snuck up on me… like a wolf.”

He shakes his head and looks at the ceiling. He’s tall, his posture is straight and unbending, making you more conscious of your slouching. He wears all black that day, it makes him look lean, and the silver rings shine around his fingers. You only then notice the stud in his ear.

“Oh! I like your earring–”

“Why are you talking to me?” He snarls without looking at you.

You recoil and sputter. You’re not being rude. You’re just trying to be nice. He reminds you of that guy in university who used to call you airhead.

“Because… I wanna?” You say with a shrug, “I still didn’t get your name.”

“Look, I’m not interested in making friends. I come in,” he takes his cup from the tray, “do my work,” he points at you past the porcelain, “and I mind my goddamn business.”

He turns and strides out, another beastly sneer rolling out of him. You furrow your brow and pout at the door. Tammy enters with her own mug, a bright pink thing with a picture of Dolly Parton on it. Ah, you get it, 9-5.

“Ugh, that man is always in a mood,” she says.

“Yeah…” you agree thinly.

“Try not to get in his way. Five years and he’s never said a word to me. It’s too bad, he’s not bad on the eyes.”

You don’t acknowledge her last sentence. It’s not very appropriate for the workplace and she’s married. Quite happily as she only ever talks about her husband. You tell her to enjoy her coffee and go back to your desk.

Maybe you should just steer clear. Eat at your desk or somewhere else.

[awyeahitssam]

Harry just can't seem to stay dead. TW: Suicide, character death, frequent character death, torture, murder, disjointed snippets, concept discontinued -

The first time he dies Harry is fifteen months old, and it’s murder. His parents are both dead already, killed by the same hand Harry himself falls to, but they aren’t in the large, white expanse he wakes up in seconds later.

In fact, Harry is quite alone.

So he does what’s natural, and cries,

and cries,

and cries.

He stops after a bit, when his chest begins to ache. If his mummy or daddy were here, they would have come.

He’s alone.

He can’t remember ever being completely alone before, but he’s a big boy. Mummy’s big boy, she always says with a beaming smile when he's been very good. He can wait for her to come get him from this strange place.

This strange, dull, all-white place.

So he sits and waits, only Harry is a child with a short attention span and an oversized imagination. He wishes he had something to do - some toy to play with. He thinks about the colorful puffs of light daddy had introduced to him yesterday longingly, and suddenly pale puffs of smoke appear before him. Pink, purple, green. All of his favorite colors.

Gasping in delight, Harry claps clumsily, but this disperses the smoke and he’s alone again.

He whines, put out. “More,” he babbles. “Moremoremore!”

Obediently, the expanse lights up again. Harry grins gummily, falling onto his back to watch the pretty colors burst above him.

After a time Harry grows bored. He thinks of home - of his blanky and his stuffed toys and his mummy’s beautiful red curls and his daddy’s laughter - and longs to return.

A portal appears below him and he drops through with a squeal of delight.

Eventually this memory fades, just like the memories of his parents, lost in the cobwebs of a small cupboard under the stairs.

...

Unlike Mummy or Daddy, the Lady has never encouraged Harry's babble or answered his questions or bowed to his demands - "juice!" or "up!" were his favorites. In fact the first time he said “no!” which usually made adults laugh, or sigh and shake their heads, Harry was spanked.

Harry had never been spanked before, not even when he crashed his toy broomstick into Mummy’s desk and got ink spilled all over himself and the ground. Mummy had said he had been a very, very bad boy to ride his broom without mummy or daddy around, and Daddy had backed her up with stern, grunting noises even though his eyes were twinkling like they did when he laughed.

Here, when he spit a mouthful of mashed banana on the floor, the Lady shrieked and threw a washcloth at him, glaring until he got the hint and sloppy mopped it up. Harry didn’t know why the Lady didn’t just make the rag do that itself, but then again Harry didn’t understand a lot of things about the Lady.

The Mister was also not very nice. When Harry was quiet Mister paid him no attention, but if he made the slightest sound Mister’s beady eyes would narrow at him and he would start to shout. Mister was very loud, loud enough that he made Harry’s little ears ring and the other boy in the house start to cry.

The Mister stopped at the tears of the other boy, and so the next time Mister shouted Harry cried. This time, Mister did not stop. He just kept yelling and yelling and yelling until Harry’s head hurt really bad, and he seemed to suddenly lose his voice altogether.

That day Harry was put into his cupboard before it got dark outside, and was not let out for a very long time.

...

The next time Harry dies he is six years old. One moment he had appeared on top of the roof of his school, and the next he is falling. (It’s not exactly an accident, but it certainly isn’t on purpose, either. Harry had landed in the center of the roof, perfectly balanced. But he had gone to peer over the edge, searching, half for Dudley and his gang, half for a way down. He didn’t have to search for long. Maybe his depth perception was bad--the teacher had said he needed glasses, but Aunt Petunia hadn't gotten him them yet.)

He breaks his neck.

When he opens his eyes in an endless white expanse he is discomfited, the brightness so disparate from the darkness of his cupboard. Almost as the thought forms, he wishes the space were not so white, and a section of the room--place--endless land--suddenly turns a comforting pitch black.

Harry stares.

...

Harry decides within his first week at Hogwarts that killing himself is too risky. At the Dursley’s he had little to no supervision, discounting nosy neighbors. Here he was watched all the time: students whispered about him in the corridors, professor’s kept a close eye on his progress in classes, and his dormitory had four other boys in it. There was no real opportunity for privacy, and he couldn’t exactly hang himself, be caught in the noose, and have to explain it all to the Headmaster. He would probably be experimented on or something. He was already so different than other boys; to push it further seemed unwise.

His first chance comes when Draco and Fang abandoned him to the mercies of the Forest, but before he can find a suitably sturdy tree branch a centaur pulls Harry onto his back and leads him from the Forest.

Harry’s getting anxious, by this point. He’s never stayed alive for so long. He feels claustrophobic in his own skin. Sometimes he scratches his nails over his flesh like it will stop the pressure in his head, but he knows there’s only one real way to be rid of it.

His time with the Dursleys had taught him nothing if not patience, so he waits. And waits. And waits.

Harry makes it all the way to Yule before puncturing his carotid with a potions knife. Waking up in the white room feels a lot like bliss.

...

Harry is face to face with Lord Voldemort, and he feels so much—but not fear.

Voldemort, he considers, is a being of rage, madness, and destruction. The only problem that Harry immediately considers is that the man might not kill him quickly.

...

Harry has killed himself many times. That doesn’t prepare him for killing somebody else.

Quirrell burns beneath his hands and Harry is so scared, relieved, horrified. He killed somebody but he is alive — yet unlike most people, even if Quirrell had killed him he would still be alive.

...

In his Second Year, Harry kills himself forty-seven times. He’d like to say it isn’t because of the entire school turning against him for an ability he can’t even control, but he’s never been in the habit of lying to himself, and that was certainly a contributing factor.

Harry had thought he’d left the condemning stares in Little Whinging, but whispers break out when he passes and people either scamper out of his way or don’t like they have something to prove.

It’s easier to kill himself with magic, Harry discovers. Typically less of a mess, too.

Snape has no desire to educate children, and especially not Harry. So the next time he finds himself in The Room, throat ripped out by a giant three-headed dog, he asks for books.

He stays for a week, studying interspersed with flying after a conjured snitch, cooking, and resting. He sleeps far better in The Room than he ever has in Hufflepuff’s dormitory. Nobody can reach him here.

It’s his sanctuary.

At the end of the week Harry has learned many things about potions, but more importantly he has learned how to make poisons.

Vomiting them up after is awful, but he has time to figure out which works best, both for killing him and for voiding after.

...

The horcruxes appear one by one.

The diary is first, of course.

...

When Harry escapes the Hospital Wing a week later the stares and whispers are worse than ever, but there’s no malice to them any longer; in fact most all of the students, and even some of the staff, are looking at him like he’s something incredible. Again.

That night Harry downs a bitter vial of poison. He’s dead before his head hits the pillow.

The first time Harry sees someone else in his sacred space, his escape from the world, he screams. He finally understands what it means when people claim they ‘see red,’ because all of Harry’s distance and half-hearted indifference shatters and all Harry can think of is splattering this intruder's blood and making his white room red.

His magic throws the teenager off his couch, rips the book from his hands, and slams him to the ground. It presses down around him, hard enough he can’t move against it, until he’s nothing more than a pinned butterfly.

“How dare you!” He shrieks. “This is my home, you think you can just do whatever you want? I’ll rip your bloody throat out, I will destroy you!”

Dark eyes stare up at him, nonplussed. Considering. “You’ve already done that.”

It’s only then that Harry actually recognizes him. He feels jolted. Alarmed. Present, like he always is here. “Riddle.”

Riddle doesn’t so much as twitch in response. He can’t, thinks Harry, with a burst of righteous pride.

“How are you here?”

Riddle’s face twists. “You should know, Potter. You’re the one who killed me.

Harry blinks down at him. Considers this. “I killed Quirrell as well, but he didn’t show up here.”

Riddle’s eyebrows draw together. “You’re twelve, and I’m the second person you’ve murdered,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Brilliant.”

“It was self defense both times,” said Harry, unbothered by the accusation. “But yes. Except for the fact that you are somehow here, in my home.”

...

When Harry next appears (absently clearing his throat - asphyxiation is far from his favorite method, but it’s certainly the easiest when staying with the Dursley’s) he doesn’t spare Riddle a glance. Though he’s reading one of Harry’s books he’s not in his space, and that’s all that truly matters. It’s more respect than Harry had been expecting. Or perhaps Riddle didn’t want to be pinned down and helpless again, which seemed far more likely.

He toes off his shoes, setting them neatly out of the way before curling into the corner of his sofa. The eyes on him are easy enough to ignore - he’s got plenty of practice by now. He tucks his legs to his chest and summons a book, flipping it open to the marked page.

Harry liked to read travel books. After being confined to a cupboard and the small, monotonous Little Whining for most of his life it was no wonder he found some excitement in accounts of exotic locations and different cultures. The rarely indulged pastime became even more excited when he entered the magical world. Reading about historically important magical sights and imagining that he might one day visit…

Tom eyes him warily. “Enjoying your summer, then?”

Harry sighed internally. Did the boy really need attention? This was supposed to be his time, his escape from the Dursleys - from everyone and everything.

“Immensely,” he returned, not bothering to glance up. He cleared his throat, slightly self-conscious at how hoarse his voice was. He had scarcely spoken ten words since his arrival ‘home’ last week.

...

“What do you want, Riddle?” Harry snapped. “Isn’t it enough you’re ruining my only get away from—”

Harry stopped himself. Voldemort had come back to life once. Who said this piece of him couldn’t as well? After all, Riddle had said they were between life and death.

“Well excuse me for wanting some conversation,” Riddle sneered back. “I spent fifty years locked away in a diary, and the last several weeks in this place.”

“You’re the one who locked yourself away,” Harry snaps, unsympathetic. “And I would’ve let you go on living if you didn’t nearly shut down the school for the second time and attempt to murder me.”

For a moment Riddle appeared mutinous. If he said “you started it,” Harry might actually kill him. Permanently. Somehow.

Instead, he lets out a breath and leans back. Harry becomes aware of his own tense posture, and quickly relaxes back into the couch, jerking his eyes away from Riddle.

This was far from the relaxation he had anticipated.

Harry let out a deep breath and flipped to the next page of his book.

The room fell silent again.

...

On the next visit, Tom is in Harry’s area. He’s using the stove, scrambling eggs, and a strange, burnt smell lingers. Harry waves his hand to banish it.

“What are you doing?”

Tom jerks around, immediately abandoning the skillet and stepping off the kitchen tiles. He eyes Harry warily, waiting for his reaction for a moment, before saying, “I haven’t eaten in a long time. I was… hungry.”

Harry considered mentioning that there was no hunger here. But physical needs and mental ones weren’t always so disparate, and Harry took his meals here during summer as well, to feel the content even if afterwards he returned to an achingly empty stomach.

Harry decides to ignore this, approaching the pan curiously. The eggs are more brown than pale yellow, over cooked and sticking to the skillet. He wrinkles his nose in distaste, waving the mess away.

He turns a frown on Riddle. “You don’t know how to cook eggs?”

Riddle’s lip curls. “You do?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ve been able to do simple things like eggs since I was four.”

Riddle’s lips purse, but Harry turns from him without waiting for more of a reaction, cracking a few brown eggs on the edge of the skillet.

“Were you trying for scrambled, or is that just how they came out?”

“I prefer over medium,” Riddle responded after a long moment.

And so Harry began to cook. His actions were smooth, comforting in their familiarity. He hardly minded cooking so long as the Dursley’s weren’t hovering around. He had thought that fondness might carry over to Potions, but that was before he met Snape.

Harry loses himself in the motions, peripherally aware of the way that Riddle is studying him. He plates the eggs and a thought is enough to keep them warm, then continues on with toast and a fry-up. It’s a bit heavier than Harry would dare eat if he was in the process of re-feeding his actual body, but if he felt the least bit ill he would just leave this plane.

Riddle takes his first bite cautiously. “It’s good,” he says to himself.

Harry side eyes him but doesn’t say anything. He takes his own bites delicately, measuring, like he always does when returning for Hogwarts. Even here, overeating with a shrunken stomach could make him sick. And doing so, only to return to the physical plane, made his shriveled stomach all the more noticable.

...

He thinks about boarding a train.

Not often, but it does come up.

“Where does it lead?” Riddle asks once, after he’s just sat, staring at it come and go, for long enough that the teenager’s finished his book.

“Somewhere a lot less dramatic, I’m sure,” Harry murmurs, watching it leave the station once again. It’s just a feeling, but Harry believes pure tranquility lies in wait at the end of those tracks. He’s also sure that it’s a one-way trip into nonexistence, and while he occasionally (okay, nearly always) longs for such a thing, he has duties. Neville and Luna depend on him - the world depends on him - and it’s all very…

Dramatic.

Harry sighs, looking away from the tracks and climbing to his feet. He should be doing something productive.

Though honestly he would much rather stare into space for the next few hours and forget the way his friends have, once again, abandoned him.

He turns to Riddle instead.

“The Triwizard Tournament. Ever heard of it?”

Riddle inclines his head. “Yes, of course. It used to be a way for the three premier European schools to prove their superiority. A Hogwarts student most always won. The practice was discontinued in 1792, when all three champions died in the first task.”

Harry stilled, taking in a quick breath.

“The book said ‘high death toll,’ but of course it’s something like that.”

Even if he died he would come back. But if he died, and died in front of a crowd of hundreds if not thousands, then came back it would be terrible.

He would become more than the Boy Who Lived. He would become the Boy Who Wouldn’t Die. An experiment, shunted into the bowels of the Ministry.

Harry sighed, throwing himself back onto the couch.

“It’s been resurrected this year,” he divulges tiredly. “And I’ve been nominated, despite the age limit being seventeen. It’s probably another ploy by your counterpart to kill me.”

There was a long silence, and when Harry at last looked up Tom was staring at him with a strange sort of intensity.

“What?”

“You can not be killed, yet you continuously die. Still, I find the thought Voldemort being the cause of such deaths... distasteful.”

“You'd rather I keep severing my carotid?” Harry asked, unsure of where Riddle was going with this.

“Were I alive, I would rather you refrain some such activities, but as I am not…” Riddle frowned at whatever he saw on Harry’s face. “Your company is preferable to eternal solitude.”

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the strange tightening in his chest. “You just want somebody who can cook a halfway decent meal.”

Tom shrugs nonchalantly, not gracing him with an actual response.

“Speaking of which, I’m making comfort food.”

...

“Harry-”

“I’d like to be alone,” he says, stiffly.

“Listen to me!” Tom commands, shuffling even closer.

“Leave me alone!” Harry snarls, jerking away from his touch, and in a dizzying warp Harry is quite suddenly surrounded by blackness, a sharp contrast the the pristine white of the train station.

Harry blinks, eyes squinting at the sudden shift, but then he doesn’t feel Tom’s hand on his shoulder, doesn’t feel their shoulders pressing together, and he relaxes.

...

Sirius is dead - actually, one hundred percent, can not be reached dead - and as soon as Harry escapes Dumbledore’s office he follows.

The first thing he does when he arrives is scream. He doesn’t give a fuck about the dark eyes on him, doesn’t give a fuck about anything because the only human being that actually seemed to care for Harry (for his comfort, his safety, what he wanted) was gone.

“Fucking!” Harry slammed a fist into one of his bookshelves and watched as it went up in flames, before heaving a breath and flinging a palm full of pure, destructive magic at the picture frame of he and Sirius embracing for the first time.

“Harry? Harry!”

“You really don’t want to mess with me right now, Riddle,” Harry hissed, chest heaving, fists clenched so tight that he should have bled.

“What's happened?” Tom pressed, gently laying a hand on the trembling boy's shoulder. Normally physicality seemed to soothe something in Harry, but the wizard sprang away from Tom’s touch as though it scalded him.

“Touch me again and I will raise this god-damned place to the ground, and you along with it!” Harry bellowed.

His entire body was shaking. He felt like he was splitting into a million pieces, felt useless, felt helpless. He hated Riddle for this, for what he had become, what he had inadvertently caused. Voldemort had trained the insane witch who grew up to murder her own cousin and he hated that, too.

“You have to mean it, Harry.”

Oh, but he really, really did. It was his wand - burning hot and angry in his hand - that was stopping him, not his lack of hatred.

“Potter, you cannot win against me!” she cried. He could hear her moving to the right, trying to get a clear shot of him. He backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind the centaur’s legs, his head level with the house-elf’s. “I was and am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete —”

Harry’s wand was lost to him, but in that moment he did not care. He had done powerful magic before, and now, with hatred blossoming from within him, he did not feel he needed the conduit.

He rose from behind the fountain, and yelled again, “Crucio!”

Bellatrix fell with a shriek, only it did not stop there. The most horrible, grating sound clawed its way out of her throat. Her agony was clear, but Harry was hardly satisfied with the proof of her pain. She had killed Sirius.

He did not care about the consequences. He walked until he stood above her, close enough to look in her eyes, were they not clenched tight in pain, and leveled a hand to her again.

“Avada—"

“Expelliarmus,” a high, cold voice whispered.

But Harry had no wand. “Kedavra.”

There was a burst of green, and Bellatrix lay dead. Harry grinned as he turned to face the Dark Lord, who simply stared at him, red eyes wide. The man appeared shocked, which only served to amuse Harry more — he looked much like Tom when he was dumbfounded — until he considered what drew him here. Voldemort… hadn’t he killed Sirius just as much as Bellatrix.

Something in Harry grew very cold.

“Did you tell her to?” Harry whispered, giddiness abandoning him swiftly. “Did you tell her to kill the only family I had left?”

Harry was shaking with residual rage. He felt like he could do anything. There were no consequences, nothing mattered, Sirius was dead—

“Such anger, Harry Potter. Such power.” Voldemort’s voice was as chilling as ever. Harry clenched his hands, eyes glaring up into red. Daring him to—to—to what?

“Did you tell her?” Harry demanded, pushing as hard as he could. He didn’t fully understand what he was doing, just that he needed to know, needed to see if Riddle—Voldemort—was responsible for this.

For a moment, Voldemort looked almost amused. Then his eyes widened, and Harry was falling…

He saw himself through Voldemort’s eyes — his exhausted slump, pressed tight lips, eyes alight.

What has the fool been teaching this boy?

He was forced back, his scar burning hotly and pulsating with pain.

He grimaced, but it was edged in triumph.

Voldemort didn't order it. Hadn’t even expected Sirius to be here at all. He didn’t particularly care that the man was dead, other than the errant thought that he was the end of a noble bloodline.

Voldemort’s face shifted to a snarl. The sharp gleam of hunger in his eyes was gone, consumed by fury. “How dare you,” he hissed. “Crucio.”

Harry should have expected it, but he did not. Perhaps he had gotten too used to pushing Tom’s boundaries to recall that he was dealing with a different beast altogether.

Harry was not in control here. Here, Voldemort could fight back, and he could win.

Harry fell, teeth biting into the flesh of his lips to keep from crying out. He arched from the ground, tendons straining, bones creaking as he bent to an unnatural angle. He hadn’t forgotten the agony he experienced in a dreary graveyard, but remembering the pain didn’t acclimate him to the sensation any better. Once upon a time he thought the basilisk burning through his veins was the worst feeling he would ever experience. He knew better, now.

“Scream for me,” Voldemort whispered. A hand brushed over his hair, barely there at all, and Harry ground his teeth together hard. “Don’t fight it, Harry Potter. Surrender…”

"Fuck you," Harry hissed out, barely having to open his mouth for the parseltongue.

The cruciatus stopped abruptly.

“What?” the Dark Lord whispered, or perhaps hissed.

Harry let his eyes slit open. “I said fuck you,” he repeated.

...

He falls sixteen years, six months, and two days later to Voldemort's killing curse. It’s the second time; the first brought him to the white room originally, and Harry wonders if the second will close it off to him.

But no, he appears in the train station as always. It seems death is still his choice, and though some might think a lot of his character for going towards it without this guarantee, the shards of Voldemort would undoubtedly scorn him for it.

This time Harry doesn’t question the new presence, doesn’t so much as glance at the other horcruxes who hover away from it, bright eyes wary. Unlike the others his very soul recognizes this piece of Voldemort, whose form is but an infant, skin raw and rough, flayed-looking.

It shudders, so obviously in pain, and Harry thinks it says something about the horcruxes, about Tom Riddle and Voldemort and everything in between, that the man doesn’t have enough compassion to help his own soul.

And they accused Harry of self-loathing.

From the depths of his soul, Harry really does pity them. Yes, he hates them at times, feels annoyance and affection and a chaotic jumble of incomprehensible things for the destroyed soul pieces, but he loves them too. Perhaps has loved this one the longest: this burnt husk of Voldemort that’s always been with him.

He wonders if he can even go back without him, can stand the hollow feeling where Voldemort’s soul had once fit alongside his own. He can almost feel it now, a black, echoing chasm. Or perhaps that’s just the grief for all those already dead...

Harry picks the child up easily, ignoring Tom’s grunt of discontent and the diadem’s irritated hissing. They haven’t been introduced yet, but Harry trusts the others not to allow him to attack Harry, if only in self preservation.

The reminder of the ring’s punishment is still fresh enough in their minds.

The horcrux doesn’t flinch away when Harry moves to cradle it to his chest, infinitely gentle and conscious of no-doubt sensitive skin. He wonders if its state is because of Voldemort’s Killing Curse or the neglect of Harry’s soul, though he rather suspects the former by the way the horcrux twists into him, soft whines ceasing as the cool silk brushed his tender skin.

Harry coos at it thoughtlessly, watching in wonder as it seems to oh-so-slowly heal, skin warping until it’s a smooth, pale, utterly human bundle. Dark eyelashes part and Harry is somehow unsurprised to find his own bright green eyes staring back at him from Tom Riddle’s toddler face.

What is a bit shocking is the amount of trust those eyes hold. Harry can’t ever remember looking at somebody like that. Logically Harry didn’t think Tom Riddle was capable of it.

Emotionally it made something in him melt.

Damn toddler-horcrux. Maybe Harry did have some kind of paternal instincts after all.

“That’s not one of us,” Tom Riddle sneered.

“Don’t be a berk, Tom, he obviously is,” Harry sighed. The toddler turned to look at Tom condescendingly, before turning back to Harry with a gummy smile.

Fuck, he was cute. And manipulative. Don’t trust him, Harry. Don’t give in.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Harry said sternly, even as he gently combed a hand through soft, night-dark curls. “Just because it’s working doesn’t mean I don’t know.”

“Really, put that thing down, love.” The locket said.

“This one is more mine than any of you are, and he’s staying in my arms, where he belongs.”

Harry stared down into green eyes contemplatively, before shrugging. “Well, for the moment at least. Soon I’ll need to return and off Voldemort before he gets any grand ideas of hurting more of my friends. Nagini first, though.”

The toddler huffed loudly, pudgy hands reaching up and tugging at Harry’s hair. Harry huffed, wondering if this was typical child behavior or baby Tom was trying to punish him. He caught the small hand and gently untangled it, keeping it loosely clasped in his own.

“Here’s the thing,” Harry said, looking up from the toddler. “If you guys hurt a hair on his head while I’m gone, you’ll be getting on a train to the afterlife. Express.”

The horcruxes looked bitter, mouthes twisted in disdain, though the youngest was merely watching Harry with the same thoughtful gleam in his eyes he had for five years. Harry stepped towards him, raising a brow until he held out his arms reluctantly to accept the child.

It immediately began to bawl, struggling to get back to Harry. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to its forehead and cooing softly. “It’s okay, my darling. Tom has you, you’re safe. He won’t hurt you, and I won’t be gone forever.”

It worked. The babe settled under his babbling, with a few heavy sniffs. Harry smiled down at it softly, and looked up to meet Tom’s gaze, intent on his face.

“I’m trusting you,” Harry says lightly, reaching out to cup the boy's cheek. He’s older than Tom, now, standing a bit taller than the sixteen year old. “Take it seriously this time, won't you?”

“You want me to care for our soul while you ensure my permanent death,” Tom replies smartly.

Harry hums, considering that. He’s standing close enough that the toddler manages to squeeze tubby fingers into the front of his robes, clinging. He slowly lets his hand fall from Tom’s face, gently grabbing the hand and holding it, instead.

“Yes,” he agrees, “that just about covers it.”

Briefly, Tom looks annoyed. Then, inexplicably, he looks fond. “We really are nothing alike, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled at his surrender, a crooked, muted thing. “Now who’s lying to himself?”

End.

...

This guy is long abandoned, I believe I stopped touching it about five years ago or so. I found the fact that I was tracing the same plot points from the incredibly silly, and didn't enjoy the way I had expressed Harry's 'depression'. Really, I was just writing snippets, playing around with the concept when I started. I was about to just delete everything, and then I thought, I know at least one of you will enjoy this. So, here it is!

A story may come tumbling out in 3-5 years with the same general premise, but with some large changes. If that ever comes out, it will be a love note to mental health, and depict the struggle as realistically as I can write it.

Hope you have a peaceful night/day! 🖤

[veras1ne]

⋆.࿔“Solicitation.”🦢

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Anakin found himself growing closer with you over the years, even so committing himself to you, and only you. But this time he flew too close to the sun, and you simply followed.

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🪷: THIS FIC CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED FOR THE FOLLOWING: PIV Sex, Masturbation, Handjob, Stalker!Anakin, kinda Stockholmish, Perverted Anakin, Degrading, Subtle Manipulation, Verbal Consent

Pairing🫧: Padawan!Anakin x Padawan!Reader 🚨BOTH ADULTS, I do not write sexual scenes with underaged characters.🚨

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hi doves! 🫶🏻 This fic is a little darker than what I usually write but I think it’s pretty good and I hope you all enjoy it! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME! Read at your own risk.

The air was hot and damp, and the silence was replaced with angry grunts and groans of frustration.

Your lightsaber clashed with his, eliciting a nasty clash of electricity as your bodies slid against each other, creating a tango of competition and friendly yet belligerent rivalry. Your face was red; you were panting for breath and trying to remain poised, awaiting his next strike. You were so focused on blocking his attack that you couldn't even sense when he changed direction abruptly, turning his attention elsewhere. His body pressed against yours, pressing down on your back as you were forced to drop your own saber in favor of supporting his weight with your arms, creating distance between your bodies.

He could feel your warmth radiating from you, warming the cool air around him in this little space. It made it harder for you to breathe, and it seemed to make everything slower.

His lightsaber filled the now silent air with buzzing, accompanied by his rushed breaths. You met his eyes with a cold stare opposed to his warm one, forcing him to retract the blade of his saber and smile, "I think this one was a tie.” His voice cracked as his cheeks lit up. "Not this time, Ani.” You returned his smile, slipping through the created distance and regaining possession of your lightsaber. "Besides, you’re going to have to do better than that pickup line, Mister Chosen One."

He shrugged nonchalantly, picking up the robe he had shed earlier in your sparring session. His eyes met yours again with a smirk. "Maybe I will.” Your eyes widened from his snarky comment; you weren’t quite used to his attitude yet when it came to your relationship, or at least, whatever it was.

It was hours after dark, and the both of you should have been in bed ages ago, yet you were both drawn by each other's competitiveness. In Anakin’s mind, it was you that drew him into this rivalry, but he knew you would never let that happen. In some ways, he saw a lot of Master Kenobi in you, down to the way the both of you are sticklers for rules and follow the Jedi Code.

In almost all ways, however, you and Anakin were opposites, which only made you two more alike. His blatant disregard for most rules was infuriating, but you missed the intoxicating feeling of discord and his disobedience whenever you were apart, whereas your obedience made him roll his eyes and tease you, but truly he was entranced by your commitment to the Jedi Order.

It reminded him of how much you were different from himself and from anyone else. You were different, but not in the way everyone else was different; no, you were special to Anakin, and he made it a point in his life to make you his one goal. His one priority His only devotion

He would protect you with all that he had, even if it meant sacrificing his happiness, his peace of mind, and his allegiance to the Jedi Order.

For you, he would be happy with anything, and anything you asked of him, he would comply wholeheartedly.

He followed you around like a shadow, memorizing your routine and what you liked to do and what you hated. He learned what your favorite items of clothing were, and especially what pants you cherished more than the others. His actions were perverted, and he knew it, but to him, it didn’t matter. He wanted to know every inch of your very mind and soul, to stick like an urchin in the back of your mind, consuming it all. He would gladly sacrifice everything for you, but you wouldn’t accept any of it. Even so, Anakin would still fight tooth and nail to get you to trust him enough to open up to him. To see things from his perspective, even though his heart and intentions weren’t as pure as he would want them to be.

The rain outside fastened as raindrops raced against each other on the windows, bashing them with a satisfying ‘thunk.’ Your mind was racing as you hurried down the hall to meet the door of your quarters. You knew staying out this late and being caught would have resulted in a nasty earful from your master, and that was one you could do without for the rest of your life.

Tonight, though, you felt a presence near you, watching you. Following you. It wasn’t just a typical presence; this one had a presence within the force. The watchful eye was not concerning but rather comforting, almost like someone you were familiar with. Yet you couldn’t place who. It didn’t seem to be malicious, but perhaps just confused, or maybe it was merely curious about you, or maybe it was your own subconscious playing tricks on you? Either way, you had chosen to ignore it, entering your quarters, swiftly undressing yourself, and walking into your steamer.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. The steam began to flow, enveloping you in its warm embrace. You leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor and wrapping your arms around yourself. As you continued to lay there, listening to your heavy breathing, the presence beside you became stronger, almost uneasy, but just as you had noticed it, it had vanished. The warm water overtook your body, clouding your mind as it took you into a deep sleep.

When you awoke, you found yourself under your comforter, dressed in a large shirt and your favorite underwear, neither of which you can remember putting on. In fact, all you could remember was taking a shower, never getting out, or putting on new clothes. Your room was now clean, and everything was restored to its previous place, almost as if it were brand new. You rose from the bed, glancing at the chrono on your nightstand, to discover your tardiness for the meeting with your master and the council—somewhat of a performance check-up, they insisted.

Your eyebrow twitched as you found your robe and underclothing neatly laid out for you, exactly where you leave them every night. As you donned your uniform clothing, the smell of linen and soap filled your nose, reminiscent of freshly cleaned laundry and your favorite scent of dryer sheets. You paced down the hall, fumbling with your lightsaber as you tried to hurriedly put it back in its holster.

While your focus was on your saber, you failed to notice the person in front of you as you found yourself hitting a rather large and, frankly, quite muscular back. "Apologies, I didn’t see where I was—Anakin?"

He had turned to meet your flustered face, flushed with embarrassment from the moment before. "Excuse me one moment, Master." He dismissed his previous conversation, now focusing on you with a smirk, saying, "I see you’re in quite the hurry. You frowned, now attempting to catch your breath, and rustled around with your robes, attempting to look right again. "Ani, I don’t have time for our quarrels right now; I have a meeting to attend. He paused your rushed explanations with his hand. "It’s already been taken care of; your master was quite understanding when I told them you were under the weather.” Your frown turned into curiosity, then anger. “Anakin, you can’t do this. I have a reputation to uphold; I’m a value to this order, and I won’t let you ruin it.” Your tantrum was short-lived as he grabbed your wrist, took you into the holomap room, and force-slammed the door shut. "I did all of this for you, and you still won’t let me in.” Why won’t you let me in? His eyes were filled with sorrow and misery; it almost seemed pitiful. “Anakin, please help me understand. I don’t get what’s wrong; why are you doing this?” Your voice snapped with confusion as you took his hands in yours, trying to provide some comforting aid to his obvious temper tantrum. "I love you; I’ve done everything for you. I know everything about you; I clothed you, I cared for you, I need you.” His words left you stunned. How could he say something like that? You watched him as his eyes darkened. Anakin, I can’t do this. You know it’s not right. It never will be. "If it’s wrong, then I would rather be caught dead than be right. If you are a curse, then you’re the only curse I would ever wish to be cursed with. I don’t want to live if it’s without you.” He responded, looking into your eyes with such confidence, yet sadness still lied as one truth he wished went untouched.

Your legs felt weak as you placed your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating as his hand caressed the side of your neck. You could feel the tension between the two of you, and you knew, without a doubt, that he loved you, and maybe you loved him too. There was something about his confession that ignited your soul. Something about the passion that burned inside of you and the tenderness that radiated in his words Maybe it was guilt or the knowledge that he wouldn’t give up; either way, something drew you to him in that moment. You lifted your head off of his chest, looking directly into his eyes. "I want you too, Ani.” Your words were simple, straightforward, and sweet.

His lips parted to meet yours, his kiss calm but obviously frustrated and angry as it turned harsh rather quickly, but you welcomed him, welcoming his tongue into your mouth, tasting every last bit of him, devouring him completely.

You kissed him harder, pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, and letting out soft moans from deep in your throat. Your core came closer to his cock as you brought yourself closer to his body, feeling the length of him press tightly against you. He groaned as your tongues met once again, fighting for dominance as you tugged on his hair.

His strong grip on your hips tightened as he pushed against you, his erection hardening and pushing against you with increasing force. You released a small gasp, causing him to pull away and attack your neck, leaving tingling spots of passion in their wake as they flushed your skin.

A moan escaped from your lips as he began to trail kisses along your jaw line until reaching your earlobe, his teeth biting on the flesh and his tongue licking the sweet spot. He nipped at it lightly, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin, making you gasp. When you finally opened your mouth to give him another kiss, looping your thumb into his holster, you slowly undressed him as his hands made their way to your own pants as you undressed each other, using your heartbeats as a background to your melody.

You unbuttoned his shirt as he removed your belt. He pulled your tunic over your head, his hand trailing down your bare back and pressing against your ass. He kissed you deeply once more as he brought you to a nearby table, your naked body relishing in the cool temperature of the abandoned table. You pulled apart from the heated, passionate kiss and looked down at his fat cock, your fingers beginning to work their way down towards him. You gripped his dick with your free hand, giving it a light squeeze as he gasped, gripped onto your shoulders, and began thrusting into your hand. He moved faster, thrusting himself deeper into your hand as you began to move faster. His kisses were gentle but pleasurable as he ran his hands down your chest, tweaking your nipples and pinching them.

His thrusts grew in ferocity and speed as you held him close to your face as your other hand pressed against your swollen clitoral area, bringing you pleasure with each passing stroke of your finger. He groaned softly, his body becoming tense as his climax neared, his grip becoming tighter. "Ani, please. I want you, please. Your voice was mimicking a whisper, conserving your voice as if it were the last words you would ever speak.

His hands landed at your hips, massaging your skin before taking your hands and preparing himself to enter your tight cunt. He pushed gently against you, sliding in and out as slowly as possible. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him intensely, encouraging him to give you more.

Soon, his thrusts became rougher, his hands moving up your sides as he entered you fully. "I spent months following you, loving you, and desiring you, and now you belong to me. You’ll only ever belong to me.” He groaned, moving faster inside of you, driving himself deeper and deeper. "Maker, it’s just like I imagined every night. So warm and tight, my own little ragdoll. You were moaning louder as he began slamming harder and faster, both of you breathing heavily as your nails clawed at his back, praying and hoping for every single last drop of his love.

His blood, sweat, and tears were never something you knew you needed, and now that they were given to you, you never wanted to let go. "What a perfect little pussy. You’re going to be a good whore, right? Take all of my cum like the precious little bitch you are.” His words kept you panting and moaning as he kept going until his entire body shuddered, releasing into your begging pussy as you cried out, crying his name as he continued to come down from his orgasm, but needlessly pounding into you, racing against time to meet your own climax.

You pulled him close by the back of his thighs, burying your face into his shoulder and desperately kissing his neck. His cum was painted deep inside your hole as you convulsed and shook once you found release, your thick cream making a mess of your thighs and his lower half.

The warm liquid was quickly absorbed into the table, creating an uncomfortable coldness against your legs. After a few moments of blissful silence, you broke it with your quiet words. "You did all of this just to be with me, Ani? Your voice was hoarse and scratchy, a gross display of the events that had just played out.

He pulled away slightly to glance at your eyes, giving a smile of admiration to you, saying, "I’d be nothing without you. Everything I do is for you; all I ever wanted was you.” He leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on the valley between your chest, his warm lips igniting your body as you lay there, both satisfied and more worried than ever, but the other parts of you felt loved and appreciated. His breath hitched as he looked at you once more, tired and nearly lifeless, only whispering to himself what no one else would hear, only him.

“I will kill for you, Angel.”

[blemgoid]

giant stogie in my mouth while i'm deadlifting, slamming the weights and grunting and screaming as loud as i possibly can, spitting flecks of cigar tar sludge on the planet fitness employees while I yell at them about how the lunk alarm is too sensitive.  folks at this gym call me Mister Big Shot.  today I decide that medicine ball slams arent pumping me up as much as I’d like so I use the 75lb kettlebell instead.  manager tracks me down through the thick, full-flavored cloud and tells me i need to leave.  I jam the cherry into his eye and start biting and tearing at him like a chimpanzee.  drop the weights on his mangled body instead of re-racking them and grab my bag off the bench where it’s been sitting for a half hour.  i take a mighty swig from my gallon of milk - most of it falling on the floor.  that’s okay.  there’s always more protein somewhere.  as I walk out a cop in the parking lot sees me and immediately shoots me in the head.  i take one last drag off my cigar as my body turns into ash and flies away on the wind

[orphicrose]

What about rdr2 van der Linde Gang with a reader who stutters? I can imagine the reader being mostly quiet because of it, but at sind point they have to talk and I know people especially back then would make fun of it (Micah) and the gang standing up for reader.

He had it coming ( Camp x Fem!Reader)

Thank you for the request! I did do some research before i wrote this to make sure it was as realistic as possible. But i do apologies if it isn't so please let me know if i wrote it badly!

Warnings ! Micah, bullying, name calling.

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

The sad truth that a lot of people had to face during this era, was that nothing outside of social norms was taken seriously. Things like disabilities, appearances, or even sexuality, greeted with a mocking laugh or worse. Far worse. If you were lucky enough, you'd only be laughed at. But that didn't make it any better. The stereotypical cowboys that you were stuck with didn't make it easier. It's just one of those things you'd either accept or suppress over time.

In this situation, y/n suppressed it. Heavily. Growing up being beaten with insults, or fists because of it. The van der linde gang was somewhat outside of stereotypes, though. A lot of the members from all across the world; black, natives, Hispanic. Then there was Bill, everyone knew he played for the other team, despite the harsh denying and homophobia in return. But the point it, y/n got lucky with falling in with this specific group. Making judgements hard to give.

Y/n's 'issues' lied in her speech, being born with a stutter. It wasn't cute or dainty, it was annoying. What made it worse, the anxiety surrounding it. Sometimes she didn't stutter at all, around people like Arthur or Hosea. But around Micha, it was so much worse. Unbearable, even. The ignorance surrounding that man was almost unbelievable, even for the 1800s.

"Mornin, miss l/n" She was approached by a muscular shadow blocking the sun light from her position on the floor.

"Morning Arthur" Her smile infectious as he took a seat next to her, leaning back against a tree and pulling hit hat over his face. Shielding his eyes from the light. "Busy day today?"

He grunted, shifting in the soft lemoyne mud. "Uncles got a job set up" he failed at suppressing a laugh "Dunno how well it's gonna go."

Y/n chortled, imagining old Uncle out doing some real work. "We-well good luck. I'm glad I'm not joining y'all" her eyes returned to the easy reading of her book that Mary-Beth had lent to her.

Arthur hummed, relaxing in the hot air for as long as he could before his name was called to action.

"Arthur!" That wasn't uncles voice. He lowered his hat to see a nasty looking individual unfortunately strolling towards his direction.

"What do you want, Micah" His voice held hostility, reasonable hostility, as the greasy haired mans face was blinded by a ray of sunshine. Y/n huffed, clutching at the book harder to distract herself.

"Wanted to know what you're ta-ta-ta-talking about" He mocked y/n, without any subtleness about it. Y/n remained quite. It was sad to admit in any situation, but she had grown used to the constant mocking.

"Theres no need for that, is there?" Arthur raised to his feet without hesitation. Moving to get in Micahs face. Any excuse to punch him in the nose was a good excuse in his eyes,

"Now, now, Mister Morgan" The rat put his hands up in surrender, backing away with that smug grin still on his face. "It's just a harmless joke. No need to go out guns a blazin'"

"It's not supposed to be harmless, is it?" Arthurs fists clenched under his anger. Y/n rising to her feet behind him and putting a hand on the back of his shoulder.

"I-it's okay. Ar-Arthur" She mumbled, to which Micah laughed. Before he got the chance to get in the last word. Arthur had landed a heavy hit square in his face. Not wasting any time to wind it up before landing on his nose. Micah fell to the floor and began wailing about how his nose was broken. An audience soon formed around the rat writhing on the floor. Not much sympathy to be shared, but knowing glances at one another. Quiet laughs and 'he had it comings' shared between them before Dutch marched over. Clearing the group and making sure he was ok.

"Arthur, we've talked about this"

"I know, i know Dutch but-"

"The last thing we need right now is our gang turning against each other!"

Y/n could hear the two arguing in Dutch's tent, biting at her nails with worry. It was her fault, she thought. A hand landed on her back, spinning to see tilly with a sad smile.

"Its okay" She offered. "That rat had it coming. Arthur did everyone a favor" just thinking about him on the floor, in pain, brought serotonin to her.

"I-I guess" y/n mumbled

"No need to be ashamed, darlin" she took y/ns hands in hers. "you're perfect as is".

[scolbert22]

My sink was broken, AGAIN. And my landlord Dwight was still too cheap to call a real plumber, so he was back once again to do another half-assed repair job. 

“Listen buddy, I’m gonna take care of it for real this time, quit your bitchin’” He drawled in his light southern accent as he scratched at his cheesy moustache. 

Luckily, his unwelcome presence in my home meant I could play a little target practice with my new invention. I called it the “slut ray”. It was a little gun I’d made from spare parts I’d “borrowed” from work. It warps a man’s libido, brain, and body to make them sexier and more open to “fun”. At least, that was what it was meant to do, I had never actually tried it out before. But seeing my landlord’s ass waving in the air obliviously, I knew this was the perfect chance to work out any kinks on a live subject.

I snuck up behind him in my socks, careful not to make any noise. I pointed the gun right at his plumber’s crack, closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger. I heard a slam and my landlord grunt loudly. 

I opened my eyes excitedly, and then realized with disappointment that the jackass had just smacked his head on the underside of the sink. Otherwise there was no change. Maybe I missed? I held my breath and lifted the gun again, this time keeping my eyes open. I fired at him again. This time, I watched as he arched his back and moaned softly. And then....

No further change. Dammit, it’s clearly way too weak. I shot at him again out of frustration. This time he didn’t even seem phased. I walked back to my room, defeated. I knew that invention is a lot of trial and error, but I’d had really high hopes for this one. 

I was poring over my notes, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong when I felt a presence over my shoulder. I slammed by notebook closed as I whirled around. What I saw made my jaw drop. 

It was Dwight, but barely. My slob of a landlord now looked like a hot college student wearing a “Sexy Dwight” costume for Halloween. He looked fitter, curvier, handsomer. Even his moustache and plumber’s crack were sexy now. But I could see in his face that it was still him, however improved that face may be.

“Golly Mister Masters, I didn’t mean tah surprise ya!” his light drawl seemed to have morphed into a goofy impression of itself, and now he sounded like a sexy Gomer Pyle. “You don’t haff to worry none about me spyin’ on ya though, I ain’t too good a reader.” He scratched the back oh his head, flashing a hairy pit. 

The three blasts I gave him must have built on each other, and the delayed reaction sent him past slut and turned him into a lewd pinup drawing come to life. Oh my gosh, I realized. This isn’t a slut ray, it’s a porn ray! I’ll have to up the power for the next trial.

“I jist swung by to say I was in yer kitchen and I couldn’t figure out why, fer the life o’ me! I guess I musta jist plum fergot!” To be honest, the accent was growing on me.

I reached in my mind for something to say to this impossible version of my landlord. Then I had the most perfect idea.

“Well Dwight, we were just going to talk about how I don’t think I’m gonna be able to pay next month’s rent, and I was wondering if we could come to some other kind of arrangement...?” 

A dim spark flashed behind  Dwight’s vacant eyes and he smiled idiotically. “Well Mister Masters, yer in luck! I’m always willin’ to barter.” He wiggled his ass at me bawdily. It was clear this new invention was going to make my life a whole lot easier.

[beanibon]

Hi 👋 can i request a smutty wolfwood x fem reader, where after everything him and his s/o finally retire and decide to take care of the orphanage. And seeing his s/o be amazing with the kids makes him go brrrr and think of how great she'll be as a mother and then....breeding kink? 🤣

GIVE THIS MAN ALL THE CHILDREN, WE ALL KNOW HE'LL BE THE BEST DAD IN THE WORLD!

TW: smut, breeding kink, mentioned oral (f!receiving), marking, doggy style (good breeding position tbh), overstimulation.

It had been several years now, peace finally entering Nicholas's life. Even if it did still feel odd.

But with all that said and done, alongside side the only woman he'd ever truly love, Nicholas took over the Hope Land's Orphanage. Protecting the children, and making sure none of them would ever go through what he had.

Another thing Wolfwood tried to do was quit smoking, but that proved a lot harder then he thought. Which was why he was currently hiding, a freshly lit cigarette between his dry lips, that bitter taste inhaled into his lungs.

He knew you'd kill him the moment he was caught, reprimanding him after he swore he'd stop. Yet maybe that's why he denied fully quitting, your face scrunched up in anger was always so adorable, how could he possibly get enough.

"Mieko that's a beautiful drawing, we'll hang it up on the wall later on." Nicholas peeked around the corner, dark eyes observing the way you kneeled low, admiring one of the children's drawings.

A familiar ache throbbed in his pants, causing Nicholas to grunt in discomfort, yet that saccharine voice dragged him back. Hearing the way you spoke to the children made Nicholas happy beyond a doubt, the way you took to each and every one. Not to mention how the children instantly grew fond of you, clinging to your clothes, begging for attention and constant affection. Hell it made him jealous even.

Yet there was one thing that drove Nicholas absolutely wild, which was the image of you pregnant with his own child.

That very thought had shivers running up and down his spine, another drag of his cigarette in attempts to calm the blood flow to lower regions. Perhaps it was something worth mentioning later when the children were all tucked into bed? It definitely wouldn't hurt.

"What did I tell you about smoking, mister!" Wolfwood straightened, head spun to look at your angry, displeased face.

The children surrounding you were giggling, faux looks of shock through some of them. The sight of children clinging to you had Wolfwood's mind wander, until you leapt forward to snatch the embering cigarette.

"What's the harm in one, sweetheart? Can't let me treat myself?" Nicholas cooed, easily moving the cigarette out of reach as you collided against him.

"You said you'd quit, and that I'm allowed to pester you when you caved!" Another poor attempt of thwarting his addiction.

"Did I say that? Shit I don't remember."

"No swearing in front of the kids!" You scolded, hands placed firmly on your hips. A chorus of voices agreeing, playful and teasing.

"Nico said a bad word!"

"Mister Nichowas stop teasing Mrs Y/N!"

"Geez Kiddos, you aren't gonna stick up for me? I'm the one being denied here, don't wanna stick up for lil old me?" Nicholas teased, earning a charge of children tackling him, allowing you to pluck the cigarette from his fingers.

"I think that answers your question, seems that's another win for me." Stamping out the cigarette, you shooed the children away, helping your disgruntled husband off the ground. Gentle hands dusting off the sand sticking to his clothes, fixing his collar.

"Can we have kids?" He blurted out, eyes trailing down to your stomach.

"We have many kids." You responded patiently, oblivious to what he was suggesting.

"Angel," Nicholas brought your face to his, placing a sweet kiss to those beautiful lips of yours. "I'm meaning our own kids."

Your face flushed red, eyes wide as you considered his proposal. You weren't against the idea, just confused as you thought Nicholas was content with all the children running about the orphanage. Never before considering he'd want his own children.

"Why don't we discuss this further when all the children are in bed, okay?"

The bed creaked dangerously, the sound echoing off the walls had you shushing Nicholas frantically, worried the kids would awaken. Only Wolfwood didn't care, pace quickening.

"Nicholas! The childr-"

"Please Angel, just shaddup for a sec," Nicholas cooed, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounded into you roughly. "Gonna impregnate you real good, sweetheart."

Your cunt was already dripping with previous loads of his cum, face pressed into the pillow to muffle your pleas, moans and whimpers. Teeth marks covered the back of your neck, entire back and legs even from when Nicholas was eating you out.

Rough hands squeezed your waist, pulling it back as he thrust his hips forward, the plush of your ass somewhat cushioning his harsh hips slamming into you. Nicholas grunted, breathing irregularly as he faltered yet again.

"Ready for another load of my cum? Gonna make some mini mes?" Those fangs nibbled against your ear, earning some angelic noises from your lips.

Those sweet noises were the cherry on top, hot cum filling you up until you were swollen to the brink. Tongue hanging out as you cried at your final release, stars filling your teary vision.

Chaste kisses were placed along your spine, calloused hands massaging you with more gentleness then their previous rough nature. Nicholas laid you on you side, legs pressed together in attempts to keep his seed inside you, arms wrapping around you.

"You did well, Angel," He praised sweetly, a hand placed upon your stomach. "You look beautiful."

Nicholas couldn't stop imagining you fat with his child, the very idea had him hard yet again. Only this time your tired form smacked his arm, groaning at the idea of being fucked ruthless again.

"Put it away, I'm not dealing with it anymore." You grumbled, Nicholas chuckling at your irritated voice.

"Sorry Y/N, can't help it when you get me so excited." Another smack, this time to his face had him barking in laughter, arms squeezing you close as you whined. "Don't worry, I'm too tired anyways. Think I went overboard..."

"No shit, five rounds without a break in exhausting, if I'm not pregnant then there's something wrong with your cock." You teased, turning to nuzzle into his chest.

Nicholas smiled, holding you close as he pressed a final kiss to the crown of your head, eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep.

"I love you, Angel."

"I love you too, Nico."

[melonflavoredbread]

Mr. Lawyer Sir (Part 1)

Hiromi Higuruma x fem! reader

Disclaimers/notes: a bit angsty, Higuruma being an overworked, tired man, stubborn reader, SFW.

• This is my first post on Tumblr! I hope you enjoy this story. This is just the first part of the story and plan to write the next one soon! Keep in mind that I am not a professional writer and that I just do this for fun and let my ideas run freely with creativity. By doing so, I also want to share my ideas with everyone else who would like it! Thank you so much in advance <3

*****

‘I’m just so tired…’ Hiromi thought to himself as he sighed softly and started to leave the courthouse after defending one of his clients in the courtroom.

Hiromi Higuruma was known as one of the most incomparable lawyers there was in town. As a defense attorney, he always sought to fight for justice in those individuals who were wrongly accused of a crime. Although he looked like a standoffish, detached man, his true passion was to help others in need.

However, with that great talent he has also comes exhaustion. Exhaustion from work, exhaustion from having too many clients, but most importantly, the exhaustion of seeing his clients lose the trail after all the work he put in to fight for justice. It wasn’t fair to him or his client. Those countless nights of overtime, putting in the work to make sure they’d win this case, skipping out on sleep schedules…just to lose the case.

He started heading towards his car in the courthouse parking lot while almost dragging his feet due to the disdain he felt within himself. Feeling as if he failed his client and needed to do better. He rubbed his eyes as they felt heavy with the lack of sleep.

As he left the courthouse, it was already nighttime and the sky became pitch black. Not as many cars out on the road since it was getting late. As he walked along the sidewalk towards the parking lot, lost in his own dismay of thoughts, he didn’t notice a girl bumping into him, causing her to fall to the ground. The moment she fell, Hiromi snapped away from his thoughts and came back to reality. He grunted in frustration as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple while thinking, ‘this was the last thing that needed to happen right now…’ he felt annoyed at the situation he currently got himself into but, nonetheless, he quickly made his way over to the girl laying on the ground.

“Ugh…I’m sorry…are you alright?” Hiromi spoke as he came over and tried to help the girl up but noticed she had blood dripping down her knee.

“I’m fine…” the girl winced in pain as she spoke and tried to gently stand up but also noticed her ankle was sore to move. “Ouch…”

“You should be more careful,” Hiromi crouched down to look at the injury closer and realized she was bleeding pretty terribly. “Clearly you’re not fine…your knee is bleeding and you can’t move your ankle.”

The girl winced once again as she realized how painful the scrape was on her knee. She was oozing lots of blood from the injury and appears to have sprained her ankle from the fall. Hiromi noticed the shoes she was wearing, black business-casual high heels.

“I wouldn’t wear those if I were you. They look like a pain in the ass to walk in.” Hiromi commented casually as he carefully held out his hand to lift her up but instead, the girl looked at him questioningly and refused his hand.

“I appreciate your concern mister but I am free to wear whatever I want…” The girl sounded calm but Hiromi could tell she was responding rather passive aggressively.

Hiromi huffs and becomes slightly annoyed but tries not to let it get to him. “Be free as you’d like, but be aware of your surroundings. You’re being careless.” He spoke sternly to her as he tried to not let his frustration get to him. All he wanted to do was get home and get the well-deserved rest he needed but instead he was here in a situation he didn’t expect to happen.

The girl scoffed and seemed noticeably annoyed in return. “You don’t know who I am to say I’m careless…” she says.

‘Here we go…as if it couldn’t get any worse, she seems to be bratty and stubborn. I’ll never hear the end of it.’ Hiromi thought to himself as he closed his eyes to compose himself and not let his frustration get to him.

“That is irrelevant, miss. I don’t need to know who you are to see that you were being careless,” Hiromi glares at her as he speaks. “If I hadn’t been watching where I was going, this could’ve been a lot worse and we would’ve both fallen and gotten hurt.”

Hiromi didn’t want to touch the girl without her permission but he saw the bad state she was in with her bleeding knee and sprained ankle that he had no choice but to help her up walk towards a nearby bus stop bench just a few feet away so she could sit. He delicately placed his arm around her waist as he supported her body weight so that she can lift up and stand with ease.

Once she was standing, she winced once more as the weight on her ankle felt pressure and made it feel extremely sore.

“Thank you for helping me up but you can leave now.” She rolled her eyes and huffed as she tried walking on her own, but immediately felt pain in her leg and ankle.

“You’re clearly limping…I’ve had it.” Hiromi looks at her in displeasure. He quickly walks her to the bench and sets her down softly. He takes out his phone and starts searching for ‘hospitals near me.’ “Sit here while I find a nearby hospital you can go to.”

The girl grunts in annoyance and becomes visibly agitated at Hiromi, who is standing in front of her. Letting her pride get the best of her, she tries to stand up, all wobbly and in pain, as she speaks to Hiromi again.

“Like I said the first time, I’m fine…I don’t even know you and you’re sitting me down on this bench like I’m a child!” The girl hisses at Hiromi as she tries to stand up on her own, but quickly sat back down as her leg was too painful to stand.

“You’re limping as you walk. That’s not what ‘fine’ looks like. Your logic is flawed and it makes me wonder if you’re just plain stupid.” Hiromi crosses his arms as he watches the girl’s attempted at standing up. He was unusually harsh, even to his demeanor. Maybe it was just all the overworked tension he had inside of him.

“If you’re “fine” as you say, then why are you limping and bleeding your whole leg out? You are proof of your incompetence.”

The girl became stunned as she did not expect him to reply the way he did. She stayed quiet as she couldn’t speak due to her surprise. Even Hiromi himself became surprised at his sudden harshness. Nonetheless, he was annoyed at this moment and didn’t realize the extent of his harshness towards her.

Realizing she was not fighting back with words, Hiromi just sighed and felt his composure come back. “So why don’t you just try think logically and push your own pride aside for five seconds? I’m trying to help you.”

“I just don’t understand how all I did was bump into you on accident and you’re treating this like I’ve just committed the world’s biggest crime.” She retaliates to him exasperatedly. “Also, I told you to leave. If I want to bleed out here on this bench, let me…but I don’t need your help, stranger.”

Hiromi gives her a stern look as he looks away from his phone. “All I said was you need to be more careful and you got mad. Now, you’re limping and bleeding and still trying to walk and act like it’s fine. You’re in no shape to keep moving.” He continued as he looked at her. “It’s a matter of a safety, not an inconvenience. I need to help you because I’m the one you bumped into. I’ll leave after you get help. Think about it.” He sounded annoyed.

“Since when does a stranger who knows nothing about me care so much?” She snaps back at him with some apparent attitude in her expression.

“I don’t need to know you to know that you will continue to get hurt if you keep walking in the state you’re in.” Hiromi responded as he stopped to think why he really was so concerned for her.

‘I could’ve just let her go as she wished but I keep insisting…maybe it’s because I feel bad she fell and I happened to be the one she bumped into..’ Hiromi thought this to himself.

Hiromi found a nearby hospital just five minutes away by car and started to look for a cab to take her. Considering it was too late at night, he had a hard time finding and ordering one and without wasting time, he wanted to get her checked quickly before her injury got worse.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he quickly said as he held out his hand so she could stand up. “I can’t wait for a cab to get here just so you could keep bleeding out.”

The girl took his hand softly and lifted herself up slowly. “Bold of you to assume I can afford a hospital visit! You don’t even know me and you’re taking me to the hospital?!”

Hiromi looks at her with disbelief. He couldn’t believe she was arguing now about getting the help she needed. “You could have a broken bone for all I know! You should at least have a check up. “ he raises his voice in annoyance. “I’ll pay for it.”

“Okay, okay! Fine. Whatever it takes for you to leave me alone.” The girl snapped back and Hiromi just shakes his head in frustration as they both walk towards his car.

“Just saying, do you know how dangerous it sounds for a young woman like me to be getting into a complete stranger’s car who I don’t even know?” The girl began to speak to Hiromi as he softly held her waist to support her walking. He sighed as he heard this and rolled his eyes as far back as his frustration let him.

“I’m a lawyer. I’m not some random guy.” Hiromi explains as he continues to help her walk as she limps. “Do I look like a kidnapper to you or something?”

Hiromi notices the girl blush slightly as if she was thinking of what to say next. “Well…no…” she pauses for a second. “but haven’t you heard of those stories on what happens to girls when bad guys lure them somewhere, right? You wouldn’t even understand…you’re just a man.”

“Yes, unfortunately, I see those stories all the time,” Hiromi sighs. “but I am not a kidnapper. I wouldn’t risk my life or occupation to be doing those disgusting things. I know it sounds hard to believe but I can assure you that I am not a creep.”

The girl listened to him and felt that he was being honest. She didn’t feel as if his helping to her was with bad intentions. She started to realize that he wanted to make sure she was safe, especially it being late at night and having an injured leg where anything could’ve happened. She would’ve never gotten into a stranger’s car, much less a man’s car, but she was in a vulnerable state and had no choice at this point.

As they got into his car, Hiromi started to drive her to the hospital that was nearby.

——

After some time, Hiromi is in the waiting area of the hospital waiting for the girl to be finished being seen by the medical staff. After a few more minutes go by, he sees the girl walk out with crutches and her leg all bandaged up, preventing any more blood from spilling out. He hears the doctor who helped her speak out to her.

“Alright miss (Y/N), you’re all good to go. Make sure to rest well so you can recover faster.” The doctor gave her a small smile as she said her thank you’s and goodbyes to them.

As Hiromi listened, he realized he had never gotten her name. When the doctor said it, he felt his heart skip a beat for a moment.

‘(Y/N)…what a pretty name for a stubborn girl.’ He thought to himself as he saw her make her way towards him.

“Oh, you’re still here,” (Y/N) sounded disappointed. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“As if I didn’t say I’d pay,” Hiromi retaliated, feeling his annoyance come back as he listened to her. “Let me pay your hospital visit and I’ll help you get home.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as she hears him say he’ll take her home. “Y-you don’t have to do that…” she says. “I can take myself home.”

“It’s late at night and god knows how long it will take to get a cab during these hours. Not to mention, as you said, creeps can be out there,” Hiromi retaliated in a frustrating way. “You’re lucky I’m not one of them and I’m trying to make sure you’re safe.”

Why was Hiromi so adamant about caring for this girl he never knew before? He didn’t plan to spend his night like this: Taking this girl to the hospital, paying her bill, and now offering to take her home. He himself didn’t know why he felt this way, but wanted to continue helping her. Maybe it was just how he is. In connection to helping others, especially when they’re in need, he wants to make sure he does his best. He may look and sometimes react hard-headed, but he really does have a good heart deep down.

(Y/N) was too tired and injured at this point to keep arguing back. She had no reason to mistrust this man, so she finally agreed. “Okay.”

Hiromi huffed in relief and felt calm after hearing her give in to his offer. After finishing paying the hospital bill, he helped walk her out back to his car, making sure she didn’t fall or trip while using the crutches.

(Y/N) didn’t want to admit it, but she did keep in mind how caring he was being with her. Although he doesn’t have a way with words, his actions were speaking louder than them. It was the little things that made her think this way. The way he refused to touch her unless he had gotten her permission, the way he softly helped her walk, even just opening the door for her and making sure her seat was adjusted so that her leg can rest comfortably in his car seat was enough for (Y/N) to blush softly and appreciate his gratitude. Nonetheless, she didn’t want to give in so easily. She still didn’t know this man completely and held up a strong shield with her pride.

Once (Y/N) directed him to drive towards her apartment, Hiromi began driving and the car was silent. As (Y/N) admired how clean and organized he kept his car, Hiromi took it as an opportunity to break the ice and stop the awkward silence.

“Do you like the car?” He asks while driving.

“It’s nice.” (Y/N) says blankly as she looks out the window, even though it’s hard to see when it’s dark out.

“Thank you,” Hiromi says as he thinks of something else to say. “By the way, I never got your name. I heard the doctor say it was (Y/N), right?” He asks her politely, trying to remain calm and start over and on a better note than earlier.

“Am I required to tell you? I don’t think so…” (Y/N) snaps at him and looks down. “You’re so frustrating. Just get me home.”

Hiromi is taken aback by her sudden response and felt a little offended by it. “It’s common courtesy to introduce yourself, is it not?” He says with a slightly annoyed tone to his voice.

‘Who does she think she is? A queen?’ He thinks to himself as he keeps driving, becoming annoyed once more.

“You’re acting like you’re some ‘perfect guy’. You didn’t introduce yourself either other than you’re a lawyer!” (Y/N) responds back as he can clearly see she sounds more annoyed as she speaks.

“Honestly, you’re being very rude! Do you not see how rude you’re being to someone who’s just trying to help you? Are you that immature?” Hiromi speaks with a sharp tone to his voice and is little by little increasing his frustration.

“I’m not being fucking rude!! What part of that don’t you understand?” (Y/N) yells at him and this caught Hiromi off guard that it causes him to flinch for a moment. His eyes widened as he did not expect for her to yell like this. This snapped something inside of him. There was no holding back now.

“Look at you…can’t even talk in a decent volume? Can you really not control your yells? Especially when we’re in a car?” Hiromi glares at her and raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t wait to drop you off...” Hiromi was being harsh due to her attitude, but somehow started to feel bad for speaking to her like this.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he spoke. She looked down at her lap and felt herself get teary-eyed. She didn’t make it obvious to him but maybe she took it too far. She didn’t mean to be acting this way, she was just going through a hard time. “I’m sorry…just please take me home…” (Y/N) said in a quiet, trembling voice.

Hiromi glances over and sees a tear run down her cheek even though she tried to hide it. He sighs and immediately feels his frustration and annoyance turn into guilt. He never meant to make her cry. He was only upset at the way she was acting towards him but he knew that he had to listen to her rather than respond to her harshly.

“I’m…sorry,” he calmly apologized sincerely and kept his eyes on the road. ‘I don’t know why a stranger’s tears has such an effect on me…I don’t know why I care so much’ he thinks to himself.

After a moment of silence, Hiromi decides to speak again. “Do you have any family you could call to tell about your injury, (Y/N)?” He asked as he was genuinely concerned.

“No…” (Y/N) responded quietly as she wiped a tear from her cheek. She seemed defeated and he realized that she wasn’t trying to argue anymore.

Hiromi felt his heart hurt after hearing her say ‘no’. Did she not have any family? He would ask her about it but it’s not the time right now to do so. She needs time and space.

“I see…” is all he manages to get out. While there is still an awkward space of silence between them, Hiromi still tries his best to speak with her even if it’s a small, pointless conversation.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you? (Y/N)?” Hiromi looks at her for second, giving her a small smile to lighten up the mood.

In this moment, he sees her face look at him slightly. Her eyes are watered up and red from wanting to cry, but something about her seems precious, seems genuine.

The minute (Y/N) looks at him, she felt her heart beat out of her chest. She saw this man smile for the first time tonight and she felt comfortable.

“…I’m (your age).” (Y/N) speaks quietly as he she sees him genuinely interested in speaking with her. It makes her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t describe.

‘I should just give him a chance…he really has been generous towards me ever since I bumped into him.’ (Y/N) thinks to herself.

Now, as there was silence, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as before. As he was nearing her apartment, he got out of the car first and came to the passenger side of the door to open it and help her out.

As she stood up, (Y/N) began to speak.

“Mr. Lawyer sir,” (Y/N) cringed at the name she gave him as she still didn’t know this man’s name. “I’m sorry…if I’ve sounded like a complete bitch this whole night. I’m just going through a lot right now and…I’m feeling scared of my emotions at the moment.” She felt a tear drop as she continued.

“I’m grateful for everything you’ve done today…taking me to a hospital, paying for my visit, even driving me home even though you don’t know who I am…no stranger would ever go this far…”

“I’m just…in a really self-destructive place in my life right now and all I can do is detach from anyone and anything at the moment because…I have no one to turn to.” (Y/N) breaks down in tears as she finishes the last sentence.

Hiromi’s heart shatters in guilt and sorrow as she hears her speak. He feels just as bad for taking out his bad attitude on her even if he was just defending himself. Now that he knows the real reason why she’s been acting this way, he lets all his frustration and annoyance from earlier subside and feels sympathy and care for her. It gives him heart ache to hear that she has no one to turn to.

“I understand if you hate me…I wasn’t being kind to you.”

“I don’t hate you, (Y/N)…” Hiromi starts to speak.

“You know what? Let’s just start over,” Hiromi says as he sighs in content. “We both met on bad terms. I think we both were too sensitive in our emotions when we first encountered each other. Why not start over and get to know each other the proper way this time?”

(Y/N) wipes her tears off as she nods in agreement.

“Thank you, Mr. Lawyer sir…” Hiromi blushes at his nickname. He thinks it’s cute of her to call him that. “I don’t even know your name but I don’t think I deserve to after the way I’ve treated you. I wish you the best, thank you for helping me.”

(Y/N) turns around to start walking towards her apartment when all of a sudden, Hiromi speaks behind her.

“My name’s Hiromi Higuruma, but you can call me Hiromi. but I was kind of liking the “Mr. Lawyer sir” name you had going for me.” Hiromi chuckled a bit as he stopped her on her tracks.

As Hiromi looks at (Y/N), he thinks about wanting to be there for her. He doesn’t know why he feels this way. Maybe it’s because he’s feeling bad about her and wants to help her? Or maybe it’s guilt from how he acted earlier? Whatever the reason is, he feels something in his heart that’s making him feel that he should be the one to show her care and how much she’s worth.

“(Y/N), only if you’d let me, I’d like to get to know you more.”

“You would? But…wouldn’t you rather get to know someone who is actually worth your time? Someone better than me…a girl without a stank attitude like me.” (Y/N) spoke softly to him.

Yes, this is what it’s about. Self worth.

‘She probably doesn’t see how valuable she truly is. That’s the problem.’ He thinks to himself as he looks at her.

Hiromi thinks of what he wants to do. He wants to be able to show her a side of herself that she does not possibly see often. He suddenly has to motivation to want to help her and be there for her. Even if he were to give words of affirmation everyday, he feels as if she won’t believe him…

He’d have to show her. Show her I care and that she is worth caring for.

“Give me your phone number, please,” Hiromi asked bravely, making (Y/N) blush.

“How come?” (Y/N) asks questioningly as she tilts her head.

“Just…please. I want to help you.” He hands his phone over to her so she could input her number in his contacts. Once doing so, he saved it under her name.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I want to hear from you again, okay?” Hiromi gave her a soft heart-warming smile as he was preparing to leave for the night.

(Y/N) finally started to feel at ease with this man and let herself trust him little by little. She let him help her walk up towards her apartment door so she wouldn’t fall or trip with her crutches. Once she went inside, he said his goodbyes and repeated his sentence.

“Goodnight, (Y/N). I hope you feel better. And, don’t forget, I really do want to hear from you again, okay? I just want to know how you’re doing.”

(Y/N) smiled softly at his sentence, making his heart flutter for the first time tonight. He felt something inside of him feel warm once he saw her smile. “Thank you, Mr. Lawyer—oh, sorry, Hiromi.”

‘Such a gorgeous smile.’ He thinks to himself.

“Mr. lawyer sir, Hiromi, higuruma, I’m okay with anything.” He laughs.

“See you later, (Y/N). Get some rest.” As he says this sentence, he waves her goodbye and heads back to his car to drive home.

If only they both knew this would be the start of something beautiful.

***

end of part one.