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envy-of-the-apple · 7 months

Note

ive been really obsessed with your gojo/geto naga oneshots and asks lately it feels like literal brain rot at this point its so good. ive reread it 6 times lol

i was wondering though, what would Geto do if Gojo was just a little bit too heavy handed with you? to the point of a sprained or broken arm or leg. Would he get mad at Gojo or just mad in general that reader was hurt? Also how would they act in response to the injured reader who can't do basic tasks themselves, I personally think they would enjoy the fact she relied on them even more to even move now.

Reminder requests are still closed!!!! I just love this idea so so much holdon lemme-

Part one Part three

(Yandere, dark, implied forced relationships, noncon touching, biting, language barriers, drugging(?))

Top of the Food Chain pt2

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Two days later, Satoru still wasn't allowed inside the cave.

You can hear him, hissing and clicking, right outside, hovering just behind the invisible line Suguru refused to let him pass. If you weren't already in so much pain, you would have found pity on the poor thing. He wasn't allowed in his own home, even though the incident wasn't entirely his fault.

Technically, Satoru saved you. It was yet again another escape attempt. Something you'd been doing a lot these days once you've figured out these beings' intentions with you. You'd gotten past the rock quarry this time, a new record. Your plan was filled with holes: there was no way to truly escape the island. You had no boat, no way to call for help. Still, you ran, forgetting that there were more dangerous things on this island other than two territorial serpent men.

It was a monster. There was no other way to describe it. Big, ugly, shiny spikes and sharp teeth, eyes dripping with bloodlust. You would have been eaten, killed, maimed, if Satoru hadn't caught up with you in time.

The only collateral was the loss of nearby plant life and your broken wrist.

That had been Satoru's fault. He'd pulled at you too hard at the hand. The remnants of adrenaline from the fight, his anger, anger made him too rough on your fragile body. He froze at the wet snap, and then you started screaming. That was how Suguru had found you. Despite how much Satoru clicked and hummed and tittered, from his mate's look, you doubted it helped his case.

Another lonely coo made you wince. Suguru only huffed, wrapping you tighter in his coils. They were already warm from your body heat. The numerous animal pelts helped your comfort too.

"Make him stop," you beg, "he's been going on for hours."

At that, Suguru lifts his head from the base of your neck. He tilts his head as he surveys you, and you can't help but think how awful you must look. Sickly-looking from the pain, clammy skin. He can't do much about your appearance, but the least he could do was shut Satoru up.

"What want?" Suguru asks, "water?"

At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.

Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.

You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.

There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.

"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."

"Hurt?" he asks.

To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.

A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.

He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.

"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.

"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.

When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.

"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.

Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.

"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.

"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.

He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?

For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.

And then, you feel weightless.

It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.

When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.

"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.

You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.

When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.

Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.

"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."

If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.

"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.

Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.

Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.

You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.

"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.

Blue, almost glowing.

"But no more leave."

You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.

The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.

"Yes," you finally say, "no more leave."

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark content #dark gojo satoru #dark jjk #non con touching #implied drugging #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #naga au #naga gojo satoru #naga geto suguru #language barriers #polygamous relationship #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #naga satosugu

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bandgie · 7 months

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On Your Knees Pt.2

ONE | TWO

synopsis: They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but this one seems eager for a treat.

warnings! MDNI 18+, fem!reader, incel!seungmin, pussy eating/fingering, PIV (raw), edging (m!), blue balls, multiple orgasms (f!), dom reader (kinda), banter, prolly more that I missed lol

3.1k words

Seungmin doesn't think there'll be any way for him to live how he has been. Even the friends he spends time with hardly compare to the time he spends on the bathroom floor eating you out. Embarrassingly enough, it's all he can think about. Even as the podcast he's watching blares through his headphones, he can barely make out what they're saying.

Something about how it's submissive for a man to eat pussy. How demeaning the act is for a man to do. Yet, Seungmin questions the validity of what these so-called 'alpha' men are saying. Is it truly so terrible to have the taste of a cunt on your lips? To suck and lick on such a delicious flower?

He shuts his computer off, ripping the headphones by the wire to hone in on his conclusions.

Okay so maybe this is normal. Seungmin's a big boy; it makes sense that he would eat pussy sooner or later. And if he liked it, that's also fine. He's a man, after all, it makes more sense to like giving girls head than to hate it.

Just as long as he doesn't try to reach out to you. Now that would be submissive of him. And if there's anything Seungmin is dead set on, it's that he is not submissive.

But days after not seeing you with Han, days of not getting a taste of the pussy that has him whipped has him doing things he's sworn not to do. He found your number, he texted you, and he's going over your house on your conditions.

He's so fucked.

It's too late to turn back by the time he's at your front door. Seungmin only waits a few seconds before the door swings open. He's seen you about a dozen times, but it's the first time he's felt his heart swoop at the sight of you. He reasons it's just because you're in a t-shirt.

"Oh wow," you take a step back and look at him up and down, somewhat in disbelief. "I can't believe you actually came."

Seungmin can't find it in himself to believe he came here on his own violation either. "Whatever," he shivers from the cold, night air. "Are you gonna let me in or what?"

You take a step aside to make room, "Since you asked so nicely."

Seungmin takes awkward steps into your apartment, noting the cozy setup and simple plants littered in your living space. His fingertips run on the soft material of the couch, pulling on the loose threads automatically.

You walk past him, taking a seat on your couch and reaching for the remote. "I was just about to put something on," you turn and look up at him. "Come on."

Tentatively, Seungmin walks around the sofa to you. Just before he takes his seat, you click your tongue. "Nope. On the floor." You point to the space between your legs. Seungmin hands close and open, unsure what to make of the situation. You sigh and loll your head to the side, looking at him unamused. "You gonna sit down or what?"

Seungmin glowers at you, "I am. You don't need to be such as ass about it." He grumbles a little more before bending down and crossing his legs to face the TV. "Nope, wrong way," you twirl your finger in a circular motion to indicate him to face you instead.

He looks at you confused, "But you said we were gonna put something on." You shake your head at him, "No. I said I'm gonna put something on. I never said anything about you." A hint of red begins to show on Seungmin's face, but before he has the chance to most likely curse you, you spread your legs.

You can practically see the words die in Seungmin's throat at the sight of your bare cunt. He acts before he can think, twisting his body fully and gripping the underside of your thighs to spread you further. It's better than he remembers.

"This is why you came, right?" You look down at him. "Missed the taste of this pussy?"

Seungmin licks his lips, nodding mindlessly. Something about taste and pussy, but he understood nonetheless. His tongue pokes out, but you grip his hair and yank him upwards. Seungmin whines, like an animal tore away from his meal, but you ignore it. "You're just here to make me feel good, got it? You don't get to cum, only I do. Do you understand?"

You have to shake his head to force an answer out of him. "Yes yes yes." He shifts anxiously in your hold. "Only you. I'll make you feel good."

Despite his desperation, you smile. "Good boy. Go ahead."

The moment your grip loosens, Seungmin latches onto your core. It's soft, it's warm, it's good. He moans into your cunt, inhaling through his nose and he dips his tongue between your folds. It's only been days since he's tasted you, but it feels far too long. How could he go a single minute without tasting you? Getting that sticky arousal on his lips so the taste could mingle in his mouth the entire day? Seungmin puckers his lips and kisses your cunt, a thank you for introducing him to a whole new world.

Your fingers mindlessly click on the buttons of the remote as you try and find a show. You keep switching back and forth between options, clicking random buttons until you accidentally set the caption to a different language. One of your hands pet the top of Seungmin's head, pushing back his hair and twirling it in your fingers.

His tongue slides down until it catches your entrance, barely prodding it until he slides it back up to your clit. He swirls your bud in his mouth, sucking and licking until your hips buck. "Shit," you breathe. "You really missed my pussy, huh?"

Seungmin opens his eyes to look up at you. He turns his head sideways to place your clit in his mouth, flicking your clit rapidly. That's as much of an answer as you're getting, but it does the job. He lifts his head back up and sucks harshly, pulling on your sensitive flesh before releasing it. You shiver and moan, feeling your arousal drip onto the couch that you'll make him clean up later.

"Fuck yes," your grip tighten on his hair. "Finger me." Seungmin leans back and uses his hands to rub your pussy. His fingers rub and swirl around your core until they're drenched. He trails them down until they catch your entrance, pushing his middle and ring finger in.

You throw the remote on the couch and grip the cushions. The stretch is slight, but his fingers are long. They reach much deeper than you could ever do yourself, and you let out a loud moan when they finally settle all the way inside. Seungmin pumps you slowly, getting used to how your walls pulse and clench around him. He watches as your cunt swallows his fingers. His cock throbs in his pants.

"Shiiit," you throw your head back onto the headrest. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

That's all he's ever wanted. Seungmin places his mouth back onto your clit where his tongue flattens against your cunt. He moves his head up and down while thrusting his fingers in and out. Both of your hands are tugging on his hair, pulling and pushing him away.

"Already?" He pulls away for a moment to speak. "Didn't think you'd be this easy, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised." A devilish smile appears on his lips as you lift your head to look at him. You wish you could come up with a snide remark, but your head starting to feel fuzzy and all you can focus on is how close you are.

You push his head back to your pussy and wrap your legs around his body, locking him in. "I'll make you regret saying that."

Seungmin laughs into your cunt, happy that he succeeded in pissing you off. Now that he's pushed against you, it's a little difficult to finger you as rapidly, but you rather like the shallow thrusts. It gives you more to clench down on and ride while he licks your clit. You buck your hips and ride his face inelegantly. The first hints of your orgasm build in your stomach, making your body feel unbelievably warm as your hips stutter.

"Fuck," you rasp. "Imma cum." You blink a few times and lazily smile at him, "Did you miss the taste of that too?"

As an answer, Seungmin buries himself so deep into you that his nose is pressed against your clit. The extra texture is enough to send you over the edge, creaming on his fingers and twitching in his mouth. He happily gulps down your arousal, slipping his fingers out to replace them with his tongue instead.

You just taste so good. Seungmin is delightfully reminded of how it felt to swallow you for the first time, how the taste settled on his tastebuds. His tongue scoops out the white cream your pussy flooded out and spreads it on your clit before licking it back up again.

He hums, shoving his cum-stained fingers when you finally release him from your hold.

Seungmin wants it again. His hands splay over your thighs to spread them. After all, it's you who gets to cum. It's only fair he makes sure you can as much as possible. But before his tongue has the chance to find its rightful place in your pussy, you snap your legs shut.

He looks up at you like a wounded dog, "Hey! Open them back up!"

Seungmin isn't sure what he's expecting to see, but it definitely isn't how you look right now. Flushed with a heaving chest, eyes that are wide and full of arousal, and a cheeky smile on your bitten lips. He's reminded of how pretty you actually are.

"Get up," you snap him out of his thoughts. "Take off your pants too."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Seungmin rises from his aching knees and fumbles with his belt. He unties it quickly before undoing the top of his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers. You gasp, eyes locking with his cock for the first time.

"Holy shit," you slap a hand over your mouth. He's hard. His cock is red at the tip, leaking with so much precum you think he's had to stain his underwear. You can almost see it twitching from lack of attention, begging to be touched.

Seungmin smiles, grabbing the base and squeezing it. "You like it, huh?" It's not easy to take your gaze off his length to look into his eyes instead. The sight of him has you aching to be filled. Your pussy clenches around nothing, but you keep your nose upturned, "It's alright."

He scoffs, but the smile never fades. You widen your legs and welcome him, watching as he gets into a half-squat position to angle his cock towards your entrance. Seungmin rubs his tip over your sensitive clit. When it catches your nub, you jolt. You wrap your legs around him and bring him closer. He does it again, this time pressing the head of his cock down to apply pressure.

You reason he's doing this on purpose. Making your pussy squelch and your hips jolt to try and get him inside. As much as you hate to admit it, he's good with his dick. Teasing you by slowly dragging the fat of his head down your slit, slapping his tip and your wet cunt. You're annoyingly reminded of what he said days ago; 'I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to.'

The words echo in your mind and you scrunch your nose. "God, fuck! Stop pissing me off and put it in already."

For a moment, you think he's going to defy you. His tip trails lower and lower until it's against your entrance. Seungmin steadies his cock at the base and pushes forwards, barely spreading you open. "Didn't think I'd ever hear you begging for my cock," he smiles at you teasingly. "You were being such a feminist the other day. What happened?"

Not-so-nice words begin to form in your head and before you get the chance to spew them out, Seungmin pushes all the way in. His cock stretches you out more than you anticipated, and it's whines that leave your lips instead. He doesn't give you the chance to adjust as he pulls nearly all the way, save for his tip, before slamming back in. Your entire body jolts and you whimper again.

Your pussy can't keep up with his pace, but you hardly mind the pain. It blurs into white pleasure that burns hot in your cunt.

"You hear that?" Seungmin pants through his thrusts. "That's the sound of your pussy getting fucked by an...what was it again? An incel?" He laughs as your eyes darken with anger, seething with a type of emotion you're not too familiar with.

You reach out the grip his wrist that's placed on the side of the couch, digging your nails into his flesh. Seungmin hardly notices the pain, his teeth shining in his shit-eating smile.

The words are stuck in your throat. You want no more than to tell Seungmin how much of an ass he is, that his cock is merely adequate, but you can't. Every drag of his length rubs against your walls deliciously. You can practically feel every vein on him as he fucks you raw. He makes your hot pussy even hotter and he, unfortunately for you, keeps dragging his cock against that sweet spot deep inside you.

"You," a breath from you, "are a dick."

Strangely enough, your words seem to spur him on more. He tears his hand from your iron grip to place them both under your hips. Seungmin angles your hips upwards and drives forward, shoving his cock unbelievably deeper. Your hands shoot up to your face, trying to block all sounds of pleasure, but Seungmin can hear them. He can hear the gasping behind your fingers, the high-pitched moans muffled in your hands.

Seungmin laughs, but it sounds winded. "A dick huh? That's funny. You seem to like being fucked by one."

It occurs to you that you've been too lenient on him. Letting him eat the very same pussy he's thrusting into, letting him fuck you raw. His attitude needs some shaping.

You let him keep fucking you. You let his cock throb and twitch in your pussy. He's close, but he's doing good at holding back. Seungmin must be used to dumping his cum and leaving, but he seems to hold out just for you. It's cute, but your plan is better.

Your head bounces with every thrust. Seungmin makes sure to keep his long fingers at your clit the entire time, switching between pinching and flicking against it. It helps to build your second orgasm. Your jaw falls open and your moans become more frequent.

"Shit," he breathes. "Pussy gripping me so tight. Is someone gonna cum again?"

Blinking up at him, you nod. Your hand grips your chest, squeezing your boobs underneath the material as you keep nodding. "Mhm. Keep fucking my pussy and I'll cream all over your cock." That does it for him. Seungmin has been holding back his orgasm so much that his ears feel like they might burst.

With new vigor, he fucks into you harder, deeper. Seungmin doesn't try to hide the animalistic sounds he makes, groaning and moaning as your walls wrap around his cock. "You want my cum, huh? Acting all big and strong when it's you're begging for it. Say it. Tell me you want my cum."

You don't, not because you're prideful, but because you can't. He's thrusting into you so roughly that words seem to leave you. His hand pulls your clit roughly, and the harsh tug drives you over the edge. You squeeze your breasts so tightly to anchor yourself. You can feel how your pussy floods with your cum, leaving your legs trembling and shaking.

Seungmin can feel it too. The pulsing, the wetness. It's enough to finally let him release. His balls tighten, his dick twitches, and he-

"Pull out."

Seungmin doesn't know why he listens. He was so close to his orgasm, he could still taste it on his tongue. But your demand outweighs his need to cum. With a wail, he pulls out. A small whimper makes its way past you as he finally slips out, cock shining in your cum.

His cock is red, rubbed nearly raw from how good he was keeping himself at bay. You can see the head of his cock pulsing, worse than the first time you saw it. A wicked smile finds your lips.

"Do you remember what I said earlier, Seungie?" You speak with artificial gentleness. Seungmin is too busy trying not to cum, squeezing the base of his cock almost painfully. You have to repeat your question before he finally looks up to you. "Huh? About what?"

"About who gets to cum," you remind him. "Who is it that gets to cum tonight?"

Seungmin thinks back about how you presented your cunt to him, bare and wet. He briefly recalls how you said something about being the only one to cum, but he was so entranced by your sweet pussy that he hardly cared.

He frowns, face flushed. "But that's not fair! I ate you out. You came on my tongue. You came on my dick. I'm so hard and-"

"And that doesn't matter," you interrupt him. "I never said you can cum. That's your fault for assuming you could." You have to bite back you smile at his pitiful reaction.

Even with his dejected look, you can't help but find it somewhat cute. You fake a pout and click your tongue, "Poor thing. Here, kisses will make you feel better."

Seungmin wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't you widening your legs and him falling to his knees. Yet, he does just that. You feel his warm, wet tongue on your throbbing clit. Sucking and licking eagerly like he forgot about the aching cock between his legs.

You fondly brush the hair from his face as he eats you out for the second time tonight. His eyes look up to you with your clit in your mouth and you shiver. Seungmin will be a handful for sure, but you can't help but think you've found the perfect diamond in the rough.

a/n: omfg I actually had a whole different idea but I scraped it and did this instead :p. if you wanna ask for a third part, please don't, I have no more plot for this fic tags: @mynsung, @andassortedkpop, @jminnnnnnn, @geneziesm, @applekiwi3202, @i6gyuu, @lazycarolinamoment, @lewoh-ot8-wh0re, @ihave-atummyache, @seeeeking-skz, @loeyscock, @blankdyean, @dini-recs, @yzsqu, @desirehorizon-recsextra a/n: I need to start asking if people want tags rather than looking through my comments and see who was asking for a pt 2 :(

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin #seungmin stray kids #seungmin skz #seungmin skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours

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yandere-yearnings · 2 months

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Truly cannot think about anything else rn than just absolutely COVERING Sun in hickies fr

Throat, titties, inner thighs, literally anywhere this man will let me

Bonus points if I get to finger him or give him a handjob while i do it because honestly i need him to be whiny and needy and pathetic like rn or I will go insane ty

your mind honestly,, bringing all the good ideas to the table😌💕 this was getting lengthy so it's handjob, leading into implications of fingering bc the imagination is a wonderful thing haha🤧 i can do a continuation sometime if you want tho❗❗sun really isn't hard to make fall apart tbh you could breathe in his ear the wrong way and he's basically gone😔💔

NSFW under the cut!

Skin between teeth had never tasted so good to you. Fingers digging into damp flesh, curling into tense thighs, Sun gasped and his back pressed to the sheets. "Y/N," he whispered, and you could feel his Adam's apple bob against your lips, breathless, "I can't anymore..."

Underneath you, his body lay a mess, blooming mulberry and red where you couldn't stop yourself from biting. Your nails indented in the shape of crescents, on his hips and calves, marked into a heaving chest. You thought he looked the prettiest picture of debauched — but it still wasn't enough.

"Of course you can," you kissed at the tears on his cheeks, a devilish grin unraveling at the way his abdomen spasmed when your fingers brushed it, just shy of his leaking cock. "You can take it, you're always so good for me, aren't you?"

Sun's whine was broken, sounded like a sin where it tapered into a moan as your fingers finally gripped him. From base to tip, languid strokes that had him writhing. Candlelight could not catch his beauty, but the flames flecked spots of orange over wet skin; made him look ethereal.

"Please," voice choked, shaky fingers wrapping ever so loosely against your wrist, barely stopping you from the ministrations that were driving him mad. "Fuck- Please, Y/N, I won't- I won't last," his eyes squeezed shut, panting so hard it wracked the frame. Sun tasted of the salt in his sweat, but he oozed sweetness when he looked at you. As though the earth was opening up in the encompassing brown you'd fallen for, so tender when you placed a kiss to his neck, licked a trail down his sternum all the way, just to sink your teeth over his heart.

"Prettiest thing," you cooed when he whimpered, when your thumb played with that spot just under his glistening head, and you watched transparent fluid bubble up from the slit. "This is all you need, isn't it? All you could ever want."

"Y-Yeah..." Sun gasped, going entirely spineless, "g'nna come, fuck- Y/N," his head lolled to the side, lidded eyes barely able to focus. "Need you inside. Please."

Your brow cocked, hand stilling. "Oh?" You smiled. "You're honest today."

At those words, he glared, although the action didn't hold much weight with how hard he was trying to keep the sounds of his pleasure contained. "I always am," Sun muttered a second later, causing you to laugh.

"My bad," you kissed behind his ear, "you're right." Swiping at trails of spit leading to slick lips, and gently pushing your fingers into his mouth, you felt a surge of pride at how easily he took you in. His tongue laved at the digits with familiar ease, fluttering his lashes at you in that same provocative way as always. "Such a slut," you mumbled, amused.

"Just for you," he rasped as you retracted your hand. Little breaths puffed out slow, Sun watched with unbridled desire as you slid down between his legs, exactly where he wanted. "Isn't that how you like me?"

You hummed in agreement, planting a hickey just shy of his groin, somewhere on his plush expanse of inner thigh, "it's how I love you."

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cod-fishing · 9 months

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When the 141 finally gets some leave, or even just a few days at one base, Ghost can sometimes go a little…overboard…during sex.

He just so rarely gets the chance to truly be alone with Soap. So often it’s quick kisses exchanged before they drop into a mission, good luck wishes from his lover pressed against the seam of his mask, or spit-lubed jerk off sessions while waiting in a shitty bunker for exfil. It’s not even that Ghost dislikes their messy, incredibly unprofessionally little tristes - quite the opposite. But Soap’s tongue on his balls while he stays in perfect sniper position doesn’t exactly inspire relaxation.

And so when he can relax - truly relax, with miles between him and the enemy, a secure enough lock to take his mask off, and access to real lube - he sometimes looses control.

It always starts with Soap below him.

And isn’t that alone just ecstasy. Johnny MacTavish, all his. Splayed out underneath him, strung out on pleasure and sweat and spit, moaning like he’s being payed for it. Soap’s voice, god, he’s always had a mouth on him, and when they’ve got the luxury of a door he doesn’t hold back. Ghost drinks it up, lapping his gasps and hitched breath out of the air, licking them from between his lips. He keeps his hands busy, running across sensitive ribs and over nipples, or notched up to the joint in Soap’s delicious little hole.

And Ghost has so much patience. So god damn much, he doesn’t even know where it comes from, some endless well in his soul that only Johnny can tap. He keeps him like that for what feels like days, floating in a little pool of pleasure.

Until he just snaps.

Fingers are ripped free of his lover, murmurs of praise traded for wordless growls. Suddenly, Soap is gasping for a new reason as Ghost flips him over, pulling his ass up and planting a crushing hand on his spine to keep him in place. He barely had the forethought to slick his cock before he’s forcing his way into Johnny’s slick, gummy heat. Arms come up around his chest to hold him in place, teeth sink into his vulnerable neck, and he sets about thoroughly ruining Johnny on his cock.

It’s not that he means to be so harsh to his lover. Despite his reputation, he never wants to harm Johnny, could never imagine it. But in these moments…it’s like his patience implodes and he just needs him.

All of him. Needs to be in him, surrounded by him, needs Johnny in every cell. It's an itch under his skin, a thrum of incesant desire, a fucking addiction.

When he feels Johnny clench around his cock, he can't even hear him anymore. All he can do is chase it, mixing their bodies and soul, licking Soap into his mouth, crushing him to his chest. It doesn't take long until finally, finally he releases into his lover, and whatever insanity that takes him is broken.

As he drifts back into the present, Johnny panting against his chest, he's always terrified. Terrified that he has hurt his Johnny, his sunshine. Short of breath himself, he runs his hands over him, grimacing at scratches and softly blooming bruises, but every time, Johnny just catches his hand.

Shut that brain off, Johnny slurs, half-way to sleep already. I loved it, I always do. Now turn the light off.

And Ghost is brought right back out of his over-active thoughts. He has plenty of time to worry about Soap being hurt. He doens't need to do it now, in the little haven of their love.

#this was inspired by a bluegiragi post on patreon...i just love passionate ghost and soap who is ready to take it in #cod mwii #soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #ghoap #simon ghost riley #tf141 #john soap mactavish #codmw2 #mywriting #cod mw3 #cod mwiii

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torukmaktoskxawng · 9 months

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could do an imagine with Neteyam with Navi reader. As the idea I was thinking you both sneak off and end up making out in a tree. Fluff but I wouldn’t mind it being a lil smut but I definitely would love to see fluff if you don’t mind❤️

(Gif not mine)

Pairing: AgedUp!Neteyam/AgedUp!Fem!Na'vi!Reader (oof, mouthful)

Warnings: fluff, aged-up characters, make-out session, heated stares, hinted nsfw, not filthy, honestly very vanilla but its a sweet vanilla lol.

Taglist: @neteyamsl0ver @mooniequeen

A/n: I hinted at both and I am so sorry this took so long. I'm getting better, I promise.

~~~~~~~~~

Honestly, it was to be expected.

The son of the Omatikaya's tsakarem and Toruk Makto, sneaking out with the daughter of Ninat, the best singer of her clan and one of the most beautiful Na'vi women of her generation.

Truly, their children would be a match made by Eywa herself, and this is why no one should have been surprised to learn the two young Na'vi would sneak away from their families to be alone. Off they went, the moment their families had all fallen asleep, racing each other out into the forest, prancing over the glowing flora of their beautiful world.

Neteyam made a playful grab at your tail and you whipped around, laughing out of surprise, before half-heartedly shoving him away. He doesn't let you get far, grabbing the hand that you had pressed against his chest and keeping it there, his thumb tracing your skin while you could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm. You linger there for a moment, allowing him to captivate you with those yellow eyes, constantly staring into yours, barely blinking and never looking away. You let him think he's got you under his spell before you swiftly break away, running off with your laugh trailing behind you.

Neteyam smirks and gives chase, following you up a large tree, full of bridge-sized branches intertwining with its neighbors. He chases you up until he has you pinned against the trunk, and this time you don't even try to escape. You let him enjoy the small victory as he plants a kiss on your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder.

He moves to kiss the other side of your face and neck, mumbling into your skin, "Will you sing for me, ma'yawntu?"

You exhale a quiet sigh at the feel of his lips softly brushing a sensitive spot on your neck, before starting a soft tune. Like your mother, you were a spectacular singer, and it was one of the many traits Neteyam loved about you, and it showed in his enthusiasm as his kisses turned more firm and earnest. They traveled across your collar and down both of your arms before traveling down to your stomach. You begin to squirm, anxious to get him exactly where you want him, your song briefly interrupted between soft gasps and whines until you can't take it anymore.

"Neteyam..."

"Hm?" He peers up at you, pausing his ministrations but keeping his lips on your skin, just below your belly button.

"Kiss me."

"Where?"

You giggle quietly, "My mouth."

You feel his lips smirk against your skin, "But how will I hear your song if I'm kissing you there?"

Your eyes roll and you use this angle to your advantage, gently kneeing Neteyam in the chest. He's startled out of a laugh and stands back up, accepting his fate as he threads both of his hands through the hair on the back of your neck, then leans down to capture you in a slow, tender kiss. You sigh through your nose and close your eyes, satisfied until you feel the need for more. Your hands rest on either side of his hip and you try your best to pull and press his pelvis against yours for some much-needed friction.

He pulls away, breathless, his eyes screwed shut with restraint as if it pained him to stop. He breathed deeply, in and out, slowly trying to regain his posture as he playfully growled, "Not yet, ma'yawntu. I want to do this right."

You sigh and pause your attempt, knowing you haven't been able to convince him to go any further than making out. You love how courteous and respectful he was. As the future olo'eyktan, it's a commendable and much-needed trait to have, but sometimes it could also be a curse. Neteyam had always wanted to court you properly, in front of the whole clan where everyone could see you and your love, but had wanted to wait until you had both finished your Iknimaya. He had achieved an ikran the year prior, and your own trial just happened to be tomorrow.

Leaning up to kiss his cheek, you decided you could afford to wait a little longer if it meant having Neteyam all to yourself very soon, "Until tomorrow then."

His eyes pierce yours with the kind of heat that makes your knees tremble, a fervent promise that makes your heart race and skin prickle. One look and he's already trying to test your own restraint and patience. You definitely couldn't wait until he was all yours.

~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

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partycatty · 6 months

Text

older!johnny cage > overheard

you're caught in the act of swooning over your boss

notes: i'm not even fuckin playing i just woke up from my nap in a cold sweat with this idea haunting my mind so here i am. i truly honestly genuinely cannot stop thinking about dilf johnny and his thick fucking arms and how much i want him to [REDACTED]

[ masterlist ]

• during your break from training, you managed to squeeze in a meal break with one of your closest friends. it was just the two of you, laughing and for once breaking the stoicism implanted into your demeanors from training ruthlessly.

• "jesus, commander cage really kicked our asses today," your friend whined, rolling her shoulder. "i get we're fighting against demons and elementals, but did we really need to run twenty miles?"

• "it wasn't all bad," you shrug, poking at your food. "we've done worse, i feel."

• "oh hush, you had the time of your life," your friend groaned, lightly pushing into your shoulder with a smirk. "you and johnny cage got to run beside each other in formation." your friend was sure to say his name in an announcer voice, wiggling her fingers as she pretended to read a large sign.

• you huff, planting a fist on the table as you try to conceal your embarrassment with faux anger. "oh my god shut up..."

• your mind wanders to earlier in the day. johnny decided to wear only a tank top instead of a long sleeve with a vest, giving you a delicious view of his arms as they pumped during the run. while you two didn't talk, he shared panting encouragements by your side, telling you you were doing so good and how much further you had left. it made running feel almost impossible as each word and grunt knocked the wind from you.

• "jesus, look at you," your friend laughs at your dreamy expression as you replay the memory. "you're down bad, girl, anyone and their mother could tell."

• "is it that obvious?" you murmur, burying your face with your hands. "i'm doomed."

• "nah, you might have a shot," she insists, pulling your hands from your face. "he might be into younger women, most celebrities are."

• "but he's not just a celebrity, he's our superior," you whine, rolling your head back. "i just watch his movies and pretend i'm the love interest."

• "oh, it's bad bad," she laughs, looking past you for a moment. her smile falters.

• "can you blame me? ugh," you rake a hand through your hair. "he's all muscle, he could just pick me up and snap me like a twig! normally i'd settle for height alone but holy fuck he's built like a brick fucking wall!"

• your friend falls silent.

• "and don't even get me started on his age," you point an accusatory finger. "he is 50 something and so fucking fine i can't even bring myself to focus on literally anything ever. i watched some of his old movies, and he literally aged like the finest fucking wine any vineyard has ever even dreamed of making! thank god his daughter is the commander because if he stood around and told me what to do i'd behave so much like a dog it would embarrass me. he is the god damn devil in disguise and i sure a shit don't have a single chance of him even looking in my direction with any more than a smile because at the end of the day i'm just a sad little recruit crushing on a guy who probably has a massive di—"

• "i'm fifty-nine," you hear a low, horrifyingly familiar voice in your ear. you can't even bring yourself to turn around, smile dropping and eyes widening. the only thing you can bring yourself to do is stare across the table at your friend, who's as equally still. maybe if you were still enough, he wouldn't see you. like a dinosaur.

• "lieutenant," you breathe out after a long silence, drunk on the smell of his cologne. "we were just... t-talking about you."

• "oh yeah?" his voice is rumbly, a teasing inflection making you want to burst out in tears. you had a faint suspicion he was behind you the entire time, something he confirmed before you could muster the strength to speak. "sounded more like it was just you."

• "well," you wonder if you can outrun him, stammering as you try to talk yourself out of this. "you know..."

• you finally get the courage to spin in your chair, turning around to face him. he's towering over your sitting form, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

• "i'm sorry, sir, i'll... i'll do extra push-ups, i'll go overtime on training, scrub the toilets, anything to—"

• he holds a hand up, waving it away as he shakes his head slowly.

• "don't stress it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms. oh my god his arms. "but, uh... just a word, in my office, when you have the chance." you almost miss the wink he sends at you, but you caught it just as he spun on his heel and walked out, a cocky sway to his hips.

• you spin back around, slack jawed at your friend, who's red from holding in her scream of excitement.

• "he's totally gonna bang you on his desk," she finally spits out, covering her mouth immediately after. you just lower your head, hitting it against the table in defeat.

• who knows what he's gonna do to you in his office?

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk11 #marley writes ☆

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lunasblunt · 2 months

Text

what is and what should never be

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

SFW!!!!! pt.2

pairing: logan howlett x original female!mutant character

PT.2 TO BARRACUDA

summary: terra, a mutant with the ability to manipulate earthly elements, and grow plants/flowers from her palms, finds herself incredibly fed up with logan as they’re forced to to train together.

suggested song: what is and what should never be by led zeppelin the back and forth between soft/calm and loud/heavy do u get it… i hope u get it…. yeah……

CW: nothing too crazy she just wants bro so bad tbh… slight nsfw thoughts? idk it’s a sfw fic so it’s definitely not too dirty

A/N: i will always love hugh jackman. can’t even pretend like i’m mad abt the hype bc the edits are SO GOOD. alsoooo requests are always open i’d love some prompts :3 that’s all ;D

reply/lmk if you’d like to be added to a taglist for this fic!!!

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

the next few days are hazy for terra. the bandages wrapped around her palms are itchy, and she can't stop herself from replaying the entire scene in her head. the way logan had glared down at her like she was worthless, the way he puffed his cigar and tossed his tank top over his shoulder on his way out. she couldn't help but wish she had stood up from her bloody mess and kicked his ass. she mentally curses at herself for being so uncoordinated.

when the time for their next training session comes, terra is buzzing. she prepares an endless amount of comments to throw at him, a million ways to kill him with kindness.

unfortunately for her, logan never shows. three hours, she waited, pacing back and forth; laughing to herself about how stupid this was, how stupid charles was for thinking this could possibly work.

as she storms out of the training room, terra, without thinking, beelines straight for logan's room.

pounding on the door, she tries to ignore the way the pace of her heartbeat quickens.

logan opens the door slowly, his brows furrowed in confusion. when he notices the fiery brunette standing in front of him, his demeanor changes.

“new pair of boxing gloves?” he smirks, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he gestures to her bandaged wounds.

silence fills the space between them. terra can’t even bring herself to dish a remark right back. logan bites the inside of his lip impatiently, he didn’t have the time for this. as he goes to shut the door, terra speaks up.

“i’ve been waiting for you, y’know.” she says softly, an angry, disappointed, yet calm look on her face. logan feels a shiver down his spine. the way she spoke so quietly, the look in her eyes almost… upset? no, unsatisfied. “three hours,” she laughs condescendingly. “do you feel that sorry about what you’ve done that you couldn’t even bring yourself to show up?”

logan scoffs at that accusation. she really knew how to irritate him.

fighting the urge to slam the door in her face, logan leans against the doorframe, waiting for her to continue. he wanted to see just what else, and how much, she could throw at him.

“i mean i’m truly flattered, logan.” she can’t stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. “you obviously care so much about me, about this,” she raises a hand, reminding him of his work. “that you’ve shut yourself up here, conjuring just the right words for the perfect apology!”

finally, logan feels the need to butt in. he can’t stand to hear the sound of her whiny voice dragging on and on, poking fun at his absence.

“you got just what you were asking for, sweetheart.” he snarls, inching toward her, clenching his jaw in between sentences. “you can’t bite off more than you can chew and expect to get away with it…” at this point, the man is hovering over her, clearly trying to dismiss her presence with intimidation. “you may think you’re some free spirit, some ‘make love not war’ flower child, but i’ve been around, and in the real world…” logan leans his head down, his face inches from hers. “your actions have consequences.”

terra tries not to show it, but his words send a piercing sensation up her legs and to the apples her cheeks, a light pink color washing over them. she can't help the way her knees buckle when logan's forehead just barely rests on hers, his breath practically reaching out and tickling her nose. she doesn't understand where this is coming from, but she can't say she hates it.

logan finds himself entertained with the scene below him. the way the girl’s face lit up a bright pink color the second his body got closer to hers, the shock written all over her expression. he’d been waiting for this, for someone to give her a goddamn reality check.

“now you’ve got nothing to say?” he chuckles, waiting for another reaction. whatever this game was that he’d started for himself, he liked.

the silence between the two is deafening. nothing but the soft murmurs of students passing by to their dorms can be heard.

“tomorrow. hand to hand combat. no powers, no tricks,” logan speaks up, repeating his rules from their last session. bending over ever so slightly, the man whispers the last bit into her ear. “all raw.”

terra’s left in a confused daze as she watches logan smirk, then shut his bedroom door behind him.

taglist: @somestardeww @keigohawks

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awakenedevildays · 4 months

Note

hi love! may I request some angst with art where family friend!reader gets invited to the Donaldson’s yearly fundraiser gala and they spend the night yearning and pining over art. if you can, make it as heart wrenching as possible ♡ thank you and keep up the great work!

「wrong choices」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

I'm so exited, this is the real first fic I write under request, thank you so much for requesting love, hope this is good enough for you! 🩷(didn't know if you wanted a sad or happy ending and I got carried away with an happy one, if you want an angst ending let me know)

info: angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of cheating (on reader), happy ending.

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

You love galas, you always did: ever since you were little you and your family had to attend many galas and you would always be head over the heels at the idea of dressing with cute dresses and beautiful shoes. Yes, you love galas, especially the Donaldson's.

You've been to the Donaldson family's galas for ages and they never disappoint. No, truly, they know how to put on an event. With beautiful dresses to wear (always wearing the latest from fashion designers), incredible music- every year different- and even the best food in the state; these galas always excite you.

Another thing that made you exited about their galas was the only child of the family: the blonde, blue and brown eyed, sweet guy you met at the first gala you attended at the sweet age of six years old, Art Donaldson.

You've always liked him, when you were little he would take you around his huge villa to play whatever game you two would invent at that moment and at the end of the night your dress and his little tuxedo would be all wrinkled, sometimes dirty, hair all out of place that caused your moms to lightly scold you... but to tell the truth, neither your mother nor his cared much if at the end of the evening you both looked like you had just returned from a day of planting flowers with your bare hands.

Things obviously changed as time went on: after Art's 17th and your 16th birthday, at least at the beginning of the evening, you seemed determined to pay attention and talk to the other guests... but it never lasted too long before Art dragged you away with him to share a bottle of wine with your feet immersed in his outdoor pool.

The last year the same thing happened.

"Art, you can't always kidnap me when I'm talking to someone" you wanted to sound serious, you really did, but his boyish smile was too cute and the expensive wine bottle he had in his hand was too tempting.

"Come on! don't act like you really wanted to listen to those boring conversations with those boring business men" he said, his hand dragging you by your wrist towards the pool.

Once you were close enough he released your wrist and took off his shoes and socks, his feet in the water immediately after while you stood there, he looked at you.

"please" he said and you scolded him with your eyes before shaking your head and taking off your heels before lifting your dress up to your thighs to avoid getting it wet, you sat down next to him, your feet touched the cool water and a sigh left your mouth, you didn't realize how bad they were hurting in the shoes.

Art grinned at you and you looked at him skeptical "what" you ask, a fake annoyed look on your face .

"see? even your feet are thanking me" he said and you met his left shoulder with your right one.

"shut up, you're getting ruder and ruder with each passing year" you joked and Art passed to bottle to you to take the first sip, always the gentleman.

Art chuckled and watched as you took the first sip, the cool, smooth liquid sliding down your throat. He knew you better than almost anyone and could tell when you were being serious and when you were just acting tough to save face.

"Don't worry, I know you secretly love me" he teased, nudging your shoulder with his own. Art took the bottle back from you, taking a small sip before speaking again "and besides, I'm not getting ruder, I'm just becoming more charming and witty."

You raised your eyebrows at him and decided not to indulge him any further "so, how is the tennis school going?" you asked and Art shrugged.

"good" he answered with a shrug.

"and Patrick?".

"still the same asshole" he laughed "he won't be coming to Standford with me in fall".

"he's going in another college?" he shook his head.

"he plans on going on a tour".

"mhhh" you said and Art looked at you suspiciously.

"you seem really interested in Patrick" his tone not as light as it was before and you raised your head to look at him, but he was already looking at the water of the pool, jaw clenched.

There was something in Art's demeanor change that caught your attention. It was subtle, but palpable. The relaxed and playful atmosphere between you two had shifted, and Art's jaw was now tense. You knew him well enough to realize that something was bothering him, and judging by his comment about Patrick, you had an idea of what it might be. You decided to tread lightly with your next words, wanting to understand what had triggered this sudden change in his mood "what makes you say that?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

"every time we see each other you always ask about him, you saw him only once like what, 3 years ago?" he asked ironically and your eyes widened "okay, slow down Donaldson, where is this all coming from? I'm just trying to have a conversation with you" you said as gently as possible.

Art leaned back a little, taking another swig from the bottle before responding. His tone was still a little on edge, but he knew you enough to understand you were just trying to calm things down "I know you're just trying to have a conversation, but seriously, why are you so interested in Patrick all of a sudden?" he questioned, his gaze still fixed on the water.

"I'm not interested in Patrick" your tone was serious and suddenly maintaining eyes contact with him was harder.

Art turned to look at you, his gaze intense, searching yours. He could see the conviction in your eyes and hear it in your tone, but something was still bothering him. He paused a moment before speaking again "then why are you always asking about him?" he asked, his voice a bit softer now.

"Because I care about your life, I care about you and Patrick is a part of your life, that's all, I swear" you didn't know why, but the thought of Art thinking that you had feelings for another man felt wrong but somewhat satisfying.

Art sighed, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. He could see the truth in your words, and his own jealousy subsided a little. "Sorry" he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I just got a little..." he admitted, his gaze darting from you back to the pool.

"...Jealous? aw aren't you the sweetest friend ever?" you pinched his cheek with your fingers and Art laughed, his hand grasped yours to take it off his cheek, but once away from his face his hand stayed wrapped around your, his thumb caressing the back of it.

Art's laughter filled the air, breaking the tension between you. The warmth of his hand enclosing yours sent a shiver up your spine, his thumb gently stroking your skin. There was something intimate about the touch, something that defied the boundaries of mere friendship. For a moment, you were both silent, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool.

Art looked down at your joined hands, his thumb continuing its slow, soothing motion.

"I'm sorry" he said again and you shook your head.

"It's okay" you muttered and your eyes met, the blue light of the pool shined on his face, hands still intertwined on his thigh and his eyes looked briefly at your lips.

"what if, what if I don't want to be your friend" your heart skipped a bit.

"u-uh?" you asked.

Art swallowed hard, his gaze locked with yours. The air around you suddenly felt charged, the casual setting of the poolside now seemed intimate and intense "what are you... what are you saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Art's grip on your hand tightened, his thumb still tracing small circles on your skin.

Art leaned a little closer, his eyes still fixed on yours. "What I'm saying is..." he began, his voice low and serious "I don't want to be just your friend anymore" he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing "I don't want to watch you talk and laugh with other men, I can't stand it, it makes me sick".

His words hung in the air between you, the atmosphere thick with tension. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing with the implications of what he was saying. Art's hand still held yours tightly, almost as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you might pull away.

"oh" you felt stupid, utterly and absolutely stupid, the guy whom you had a crush for since forever, just confessed to you and the only thing you can say is...'oh'? Art laughed.

"Don't laugh you asshole!" you exclaimed pushing him away from you, him almost falling in the pool.

"Can you not like... push me in the pool just cause I confessed to you?" he said between laughters and your cheeks flushed red.

"I'm sorry you caught me off guard!" you said bringing the bottle to your mouth and taking a big sip, you couldn't have this conversation sober.

Art finally managed to regain his balance, still laughing as he held onto the side of the pool for support. "It's okay, it's okay" he said, his laughter slowly dying down as he regained his composure.

"But seriously, you can't just say 'oh'" he teased once again, his tone turning playful again as he splashed a bit of water at you jokingly.

You stayed silent and Art waited for you to answer, it took you all the strength you had to maintain eye contact with him "I like you too" you said, face serious and cheeks red and Art nodded.

"oh" his tone light was clearly teasing you.

"ok, now I'm pushing you in the pool on purpose" you said.

Art burst into laughter at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He held up his hands in surrender "No, no, no, please don't" he said between chuckles but his tone was full of teasing.

As he spoke, he shifted closer to you, his thigh now touching yours. He reached out and lightly pushed your shoulder, the playful gesture causing a ripple in the water between you.

Art's teasing expression quickly vanished at your expression, his hand that was still on your shoulder froze "what?" he asked, his tone slightly sharper than it was before.

"I should ask Patrik if he's single I don't think h-" your joking sentence is interrupted by his lips on yours, a hand behind your head and the other on your thigh made you immediately rest yours on his cheeks.

Art's lips were soft and firm against yours, the taste of the expensive wine still lingered on his tongue as he kissed you passionately. His hand on your thigh moved to your waist to pull you closer to him, his fingers digging slightly into your skin through the fabric of your dress. He wanted you as close as possible, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

Your hands moved from his cheeks up to thread through his hair, slightly tugging it and eliciting a low groan from him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours. The world around you seemed to disappear as the two of you surrendered to the moment, the cool water of the pool forgotten as the heat between you grew increasingly intense.

Art pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting slightly. His eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of desire and disbelief. "You're really gonna mention another man while I'm trying to kiss you" he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with a hint of jealousy.

“I thought you needed a little push to do that" you teased and Art kissed you again briefly "never do that again" he whispered

The moment in the pool didn't last long after that, your parent messaging you a while after to tell you to get back to the car to go home.

You and Art kept in contact through his first whole year at Standford but too busy to see each other, you with your last year of high school and him with exams and his tennis matches.

So now you have one more reason to be exited about the gala of this year, you would see Art again and you couldn't wait to see what would happen this time.

"You look beautiful" your mom says and you smile at her.

You are standing in your bedroom in front of a full-length mirror admiring yourself in your dress for the gala tonight. The dress is beautiful, hugging your curves perfectly and highlighting your features. You turn and twirl in front of the mirror, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves about tonight.

"Thank you, Mom," you say as she enters the room, a smile on your lips. "I just hope Art likes it too" you add, casually tossing the comment, before mentally kicking yourself for it.

"Please, he's already head over heels for you" she jokes and for the whole drive towards the Donaldson house your legs can't stay still, your hands fussing and stirring your dress over and over again making your parents smile teasingly at you, but you pay them no mind.

Finally, the car pulls up to the Donaldson's house and your heart beats faster at the sight of the grand, familiar building. You take a deep breath, gathering your courage and excitement, before stepping out of the car, your dress flowing behind you like a gentle whisper on the ground.

You walk with your parents toward the entrance of the house, the sound of your stilettos echoing on the paved path.

You step in the garden of the house and Art's parents are already there to greet your family lovingly, Art still nowhere in sight as you walk around with your parents to greet their colleagues and friends and you're only waiting for Art to sweep you off your feet like every year.

As you continue to mingle with your parents and their friends, you keep an eye out for Art, hoping to catch a glimpse of him among the crowd. The anticipation is driving you insane, and just when you're starting to wonder where he could be, you finally catch sight of him across the garden, talking to a group of people, a girl right beside him.

She is beautiful, dark skin and long black hair that reaches her lower back, long legs and thin body wrapped in a blue short but elegant dress... but what really shocks you is his hand, clearly resting on the small of her back. Your heart stops. Your breath short and you have to grip the champagne glass tighter in your hands to avoid letting it fall on the floor.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Art, your Art, was standing there with another girl, his hand comfortably resting on the small of her back. You couldn't tear your eyes away from them, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Arts eyes meets yours from the other side of the garden and his grin disappears when he sees your sad face "oh there is Art" his mom says and gestures for him to come where you are. As he approaches, you can feel his gaze fixed on you, but you don't meet his eyes, looking anywhere but his face until he stops in front of you, his smile faltering when he sees the expression on your face. But before he can say anything, his mother speaks up.

"Art brought one of the promises of the future female tennis tonight" she says and she smiles, you don't.

Art's mom gestures towards the girl beside him, a proud look on her face. The girl smiles sheepishly, looking shyly at you. Art shifts uncomfortably, his hand dropping from her back as though he's suddenly aware of what it looks like.

You force a smile on your face, despite the churning feeling in your stomach.

"this is Tashi, we met at Standford" he says, his eyes don't meet yours and the lump in your throat is too big to swallow.

The introduction feels like a dagger twisting in your chest. Tashi smiles at you gently, her eyes soft as her gaze flicks between you and Art.

"Nice to meet you," she says, her voice soft and clear. You nod awkwardly, the sound of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears.

"The pleasure is all mine" the exchange of pleasantries feel like nails scraping on a chalkboard. Your parents politely greet Tashi like they do with every important guest at these events, but even you can see the fake smiles plastered on their faces. They know.

She is gorgeous and you feel small next to her... you don't get it, your dress is more elegant than hers, more beautiful but she looks so effortlessly gorgeous in hers and you feel like crying.

The silence that follows feels like a never-ending void. Tashi doesn't speak and Art doesn't as well, his eyes finally meeting yours and you look away immediately, the betrayal in your eyes makes Art's heart clench. Your parents try to make small talk with Tashi, Art's mom jumping in as well but you just stay quiet, your chest tightening and your breath short.

As the conversation turns to the weather, the upcoming year's tennis matches and other mundane topics, your thoughts spiral out of control. Your mind is a mess of thoughts and insecurities. Why did he bring her here? Why is his hand on her back like he owns her? And why, why is he looking at you like neither he knows why he did this?

"I think everyone is gathering in the lounge for the auction," your mom says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She glances at you, noticing the tension in your shoulders "come, let's go find our seats" she adds, gently placing a hand on your back to lead you away but as the other, Art included, starts to move you stay still and your mom does too.

"actually mom, I think I'll go home" your voice trembles and your mom doesn't know what to answer.

"you want me to come with you?" she asks but you shake your head.

"no you stay with dad, but I need to go" and she nods.

"we'll be home as soon as possible baby" you nod and in a moment you're outside waiting for your driver to come pick you up, you feel so lost. You thought everything was going well with Art, he's been nothing but sweet for the past year and he never, ever mentioned Tashi while talking about his life at Standford.

As the air hits your face outside, you take a deep, shaky breath... You feel lost, confused, betrayed even. Art, the guy you've been in love with for so long, the guy who kissed you the last summer, is now bringing another girl to this event, acting like they're together.

The minutes seem to stretch on forever as you wait for your car. You don't make any attempt to wipe the tears from your face, letting them flow freely down your cheeks. You feel like a fool, standing outside the Donaldson's house, dressed up for a night that quickly turned into a nightmare.

The sound of footsteps behind you is like a punch in the gut. You know it's him without even turning around. Art's presence is unmistakable and you feel him standing behind you even before he speaks.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice soft and full of hesitation. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but you don't turn around. The tears keep rolling down your cheeks and you don't have the strength to look at him right now.

Still, you shake your head in a no.

Art's sigh echoes behind you, the disappointment he must be feeling evident in the single breath. He waits for a moment, maybe hoping you'll change your mind, but when you make no attempt to turn around or speak, he finally does. "Please, just a minute" he tries again, his voice pleading.

The desperation in his voice tugs at your heart, but you remain resolute, refusing to turn around. The memory of his hand on Tashi’s back and the sight of the two of them together flashes in your mind and you shake your head in silent answer once again.

"okay, fine" he says and you hear other footsteps, a moment later he is in front of you.

you huff in annoyance "you don't understand the signs, do you?" the tone of your voice is aggressive.

Art's eyes widen in surprise at the tone of your voice, clearly caught off guard by your sudden aggression. He opens his mouth to speak, but he seems unable to find the right words, unsure of how to respond to the hostile attitude. He takes a step forward, trying to reach for your hand, but you take a step back, preventing him from touching you.

"I understand you're upset-" he tries to speak, his voice measured but you cut him off.

"Upset? Is that what you think I am?" you say, your voice a mix of anger and disappointment."upset that you brought another girl to this event, acting like she's the one you should be with? I'm not upset, Art. I'm hurt, hurt cause I thought what happened last summer meant something to you, hurt that in a whole year you made me believe that my feeling were reciprocated, hurt that in all those months you never, ever, mentioned a girl named Tashi and I'm hurt because I wasted a whole year of my life waiting for you!" you shout, and you think that for someone who didn't want to talk, you said a lot.

Art flinches at your words, your voice filled with pain and disappointment. He tries to speak but you don't let him, the words pouring out of your mouth like a dam breaking. "And you know what's funny? I actually thought that something would happen between us tonight. I was looking forward to seeing you again and then you come here with her like she's the one you've been waiting for all this time, fuck I feel so stupid right now" your laugh turns into a sob as you realize how foolish you feel.

Art takes a step closer, his expression pained as he sees you unravel in front of him "you're not stupid" he says gently, his hand reaching out to cup your face instinctively, like he used to do a year ago.

"don't touch me" you say and swat his hand away.

Art's hand freezes and he retracts it quickly, the pain on his face is clear but he doesn't argue "I'm sorry" he says softly, his eyes watching you, unsure if he'll try to touch you again, "I never wanted this to happen, I mean it" he says, his eyes locked on yours, imploring you to believe him.

He takes another step towards you, now standing closer than before but not actually touching you "after we kissed that summer, I swear I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was looking forward to this night so bad" he says, his voice genuine and full of yearning "but then you told me you chose Harvard instead of Standford and... I don't know, we would be so far away and- me and Tashi, it's nothing serious" if when he started talking he felt stupid, now by looking at your face, he is sure of it.

"so you thought that keeping me on the hook for the whole year would solve everything, that you could have both of us?"

He shakes his head "no that's not what I wanted" he answers immediately "I want you, only you... I'm sorry" Art's confession is honest and raw, his words a mix of desperation and regret "I never intended to keep you on the hook, I swear, I just didn't know how to handle things... I wanted you, I still want you" he hesitates, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again "but now I've messed up, I know. I really screwed up" he admits, his expression pleading for forgiveness.

Your car pulls up and you thank the god for the only good thing happening tonight "well, the good news is that I'm still going to Harvard so you can keep having... whatever thing is going on with Tashi" you say dismissively, the tears are still falling and right now you would love to be one of those strong women that can keep emotions under control, that can keep the eye contact with an emotionless expression and resist until they're alone to finally cry... but you're not, and you're sure you look like a mess right now.

Art watches as your car pulls up, the sight of it bringing a new wave of desperation to his face. He takes a step forward, his hand reaching out for you again, but he stops himself, realizing that his touch is not welcome right now "please, we can talk about this?" he pleads but you brush him off.

"Like I said, keep having whatever thing you have with Tashi" you say, your voice trembling, the tears keep falling down your face as you grab the handle but Art moves quickly, closing the door of the car before you can open it again. He stands in front of it, blocking your path, his expression determined "you're not going anywhere" he says firmly, his eyes locked on yours "we need to talk" he repeats, his voice steady despite the mess of emotions inside him.

You can see in his expression how much he doesn't want you to leave but your heart feels like it's shattered into a million pieces and right now you're just tired "there's nothing to talk about" you say, trying to sound strong but the tears streaming down your face betray you "you were right Art, you have every right to live your college life with someone you can be close to, and I do too" you don't mean that, you know you don't. You want to be with him. But now you just want to go home and cry until you fall asleep.

Art's expression falters at your words, hurt and disappointment etched on his face. He takes a step closer, the proximity making your body react despite the anger and pain "I don't give a damn about my college life" he says frustrated, his emotions raw and unfiltered "I wanted to be with you, I still do. Don't do this, please don't leave like this" his voice breaks slightly as he pleads you.

He reaches for your hand, grasping it in his, the feeling of his touch sending a shiver down your spine "don't run away from this, please" he says, his grip tightening slightly "we can work this out, just don't go" he repeats, his eyes pleading you to stay and talk.

"Art- please, I really want to go home" you sob and Art stills at that, his heart aches at the sound of your sob, the desperation in your voice breaking something in him. You sound so desperate and he doest know what to do anymore, if only he had talked about his insecurities sooner...

He releases your hand, taking a step back to give you space, the conflict and pain visible on his face "I'm sorry" he says softly, his voice low and full of guilt. "If I could go back in time, I would do things so differently" he admits, rubbing a hand on his face in frustration.

You're not listening to him anymore, that much he can tell, he steps back, allowing you to climb into the passenger seat without another word. The defeat in his expression is clear, but he doesn't try to stop you anymore. The sight of you on the passenger seat, tears streaming down your face, is enough to convince him to not hurt you any further.

"I-I'll call you, ok? o-or you could call me when you're ready" he stammers but you don't say anything, you don't even shake or nod your head.

Art stands there helplessly, watching as you refuse to respond to his words. The silence between you feels like a physical barrier, the pain and hurt creating a void that neither of you knows how to fill. He takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I really am sorry" he says again, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. Still nothing, your eyes are fixed in front of you, "okay.. goodnight" he shuts the door and watches your car drive away, the taillights growing smaller and smaller until they disappear from sight. His hands curl into fists at his side as a mixture of frustration and sadness washes over him. He had messed everything up and now he was standing there alone, his heart shattered along with yours.

Art spends the rest of the summer trying to contact you: he sends text after text, voicemail after voicemail, begging for you to talk to him and try to fix things, but every time you see his name flash on your screen you feel a pang of pain in your chest and you end up deleting his messages without opening them.

At the same time, you're busy preparing for your move to Harvard and throwing yourself into the tasks at hand, anything to distract yourself from the thoughts of Art that keep creeping into your mind.

Despite your best efforts, the thought of Art is always there, lingering in the back of your mind. Every time you pack a box or organize your new room, memories of the times you spent together flash before your eyes. And even when you're with your new college friends, sharing excitement about the upcoming year, a part of you can't help but wonder what Art is doing and if he's just as wrecked as you are.

Every time your fingers hover over Art's name on your phone, a mix of longing and fear washes over you. You want to hear his voice, to pour out your heart and ask if he's feeling the same ache you are, but the fear of finding out that he has moved on, that he's happy without you stops you every time. You feel stuck between the need to reach out and the fear of what you might find.

The first two months at Harvard are a whirlwind of new experiences, but they're also marked by the new, completely absence of Art that stopped calling since the start of the college year. The silence from him is deafening, and the realization that he's moved on stings more with each passing day. Every time you think about him, your heart clenches as if the wound is still fresh. You try to push the thoughts aside, but the memories and the ache for him persist, refusing to let you fully move on.

It's a sunny October day, the sun is shining brightly, a warm contrast to the slightly chilly autumn breeze that brushes against your face as you're walking with your new friends, everyone chattering away excitedly about the upcoming autumn break. Your eyes are fixed on the path in front of you, as you're listening to your friends speaking, laughs loud and your smile genuine

"ok girls don't look now, but a really cute guy is looking at our Y/N right now, on the left, the one leaned against the wall" your friend's words catch your attention and you try hard not to look but curiosity gets the best of you and almost instinctively, you and your friends simultaneously turn to the left, your heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of the guy leaning against the wall.

The moment you turn, your heart stops. Your steps falter and your eyes widen as you recognize the figure standing there. It's Art. His eyes immediately connect with yours and time seems to freeze.

He smiles, clearly insecure, but smiles and you can see a mixture of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes, yours rakes over his body to take him in: he is wearing a dark blue quarter zip, a white shirt underneath, light blue jeans and white sneakers, his hands in his front pocket and his hair are messy from the wind going through them.

"Do you know him?" your friend's question breaks the intense moment of eye contact between you and Art and you're snapped back to reality. You try to speak, but your mouth seems to have forgotten how to form words, the words are stuck in your throat, along with all the emotions that are now swirling inside you.

Your friends are looking at you, a mix of curiosity and confusion on their faces. One of them repeats the question, nudging your shoulder slightly to bring you back to the present. You swallow hard, still unable to find your voice, your eyes darting back to Art who's still standing there, watching you with a mixture of hope and nervousness in his eyes "uhm yeah, he is an old friend" you mutter.

Your voice comes out soft and a bit shaky as you finally manage to speak and they exchange a knowing glance as they realize that there's more to your relationship with Art.

"we should leave them alone, we'll save a place for you" one of them say and the others nod, you feel a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as you watch your friends walk away, their forms shrinking in the distance in the orange Harvard park.

As you take a tentative step towards Art, time seems to slow down, each movement feeling weighted under his intense gaze. Your heart is beating faster, and you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You try to keep your expression neutral, but it’s difficult to hide the mixture of anticipation and anxiety that you feel.

His gaze never leaves your face, watching your every move as he moves away from the wall "what are you doing here?" you ask breathless and it's a miracle Art heard you.

"I called you" he says.

You nod "I know".

Art takes a few steps towards you "You never answered" there is no accusation in his voice and you nod.

"I know".

The silence hangs heavy between you "college life suits you, you look beautiful".

"what are you doing here?" you ask and Art looks at his shoes before forcing himself to maintain eye-contact.

"I missed you" he answers immediately and suddenly the wall behind Art is really interesting.

"you could have sent me a message, it would have been less expensive".

"would you have answered me this time?" you open your mouth to answer him but nothing that would be the truth comes out.

"probably not" he laughs at that, but there's a hint of melancholy in that laugh, mixed with a tinge of understanding.

"I guess that's fair" he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. He takes a moment to collect himself before continuing "I thought coming here was the only way to see you" he confesses, his voice softer now.

Your arms are crossed, a subtle barrier between you and him as you listen to his words. He looks sincere and a pang of guilt twists in your stomach when he mentions that he thought this was the only way to see you. You know you could have answered his messages or calls, but something in you wouldn't allow it.

"You could've answered one of my calls even if to just scream at me or to tell me to fuck off".

You chuckle weakly "maybe I should have. But I was... I was really hurt and confused" you admit, your voice slightly shaky. He takes a step closer to you, the distance between you shrinking even more.

"I'm sorry" he mutters, he takes your face in his hands and you let him, he missed your skin in his hands, you nod, again.

"I know you are" you murmur.

"I love you" your eyes widens.

Art's hands feel warm and familiar on your face, and you let him hold you. Your hands grip his sweater, holding on to him as if you're scared he might disappear. Tears start to form in your eyes.

"oh" you mentally facepalm yourself and close your eyes as tight as you can, you can hear Art suppress a laugh.

"yeah... 'oh'... you should really work on a better way to react to good news".

"Art... what you said that night is true, we are so far away now and I don't want us to suffer the long distance" he shakes his head as you speak.

"No, no I was wrong, never been more wrong. If there are two people who can do it is us" he assures you.

"but what about Tashi?" you ask and Art takes a deep breath, his hands still holding your face. The mention of Tashi's name hangs in the air for a moment, and your insecurity is almost palpable to him. He looks into your eyes as he tries to find the right words to say.

"I don't care about Tashi, I never did" he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction "all I care about is you and only you. You're the one I love, you're the one I want to be with. Tashi is nothing to me" Art's grip on your face tightens slightly as he speaks. His eyes search yours, attempting to convey the sincerity behind his words.

"I'm sorry about everything, I swear I'll do anything you want me to do! I can come here every week-end and we'll spend the vacations together or I can transfer here, I can play tennis here too-" your lips interrupt his ramble but he doesn't waste time to return it. Art's lips move against yours with a mixture of passion and desperation, as if he's finally found what he's been searching for.

As the kiss deepens, Art's hands on your waist pull you impossibly close, closing the already small gap between your bodies. You can feel the hunger and need in his touch, the months you've spent apart making the kiss even more intense.

"god- fuck, I missed you so much" his words against your lips are even sweeter than the kiss itself and you feel like melting in his arms, you missed him too "you have no idea how much I missed you" he mutters before capturing your lips again in a bruising kiss.

Your cheeks are not cold anymore, your entire body feels hot with affection and you mutter an 'I love you' that makes Art pull back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he listens to the words you whisper. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he repeats them "I love you too". You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his hands on your waist keeping you closer than ever.

"you don't have to move here for me, we can make this work" you reassure him and finally a genuine and wide smile takes space on your face for him again.

Art visibly relaxes at your words, the tension leaves his shoulders and he lets out a small sigh of relief "really?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Your reassurance washes away some of his worries, and he allows himself to believe that it could actually work, that you could make it work despite the distance.

"really".

"so we're okay now- ow!" Art winces as your hand connects with the side of his head, a mix of surprise and amusement on his face.

"Now we're okay" you smile in victory.

"I guess I deserved that" he says rubbing the spot where you slapped him. Despite the gentle reprimand, his eyes are filled with relief and happiness as he nods "yeah, we're okay now" he affirms, a warm smile spreading across his face.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Do not copy or repost.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson #challengers #challengers fic

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strongheartneteyam · 6 months

Text

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Pairing: widowed!dilf!jake sully x younger!female!human!reader

CW: slight sexual language, can be triggering to some, heartbreak, age gap kink, hurt/no comfort, age gap relationship problems, angst, reader reminiscing (pls tell me if I missed anything)

So, yeah... I never know when I'm gonna come back with another writing. My hiatus n working periods are all a bit unpredictable lol sorry. Anyways... I literally spent the whole night awake n I was struck by a sudden lightning of creativity early in the morning and I edited this chapter n wrote a bit more, but I still haven't slept at all, so, I apologize if some parts of this make no sense at all. I'll fix it when I can. Hope you guys like it <3 ily guys a whole lot :)) obs: this chapter is a shorter one.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 4 𓆩♡𓆪

They say all's well that ends well

But I'm in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind

You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would've been fine

And that made me want to die

The idea you had of me, who was she?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

All Too Well - 10 minutes Version (Taylor Swift)

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been 1 year since the last time you saw Jacob Sully. Or Jakey, like you used to call him. The wound never healed. It still throbbed and bled every time you remembered the words he told you that dreadful day. "I think we should stop seeing each other." It felt like you would never get over him. How can one get over such an overpowering, raw feeling? He marked you forever, like a bruise that seemed to never disappear from your skin.

The flashback came like thunder in a storm, haunting your thoughts with a loud pain that echoed through your mind. What you told Jake that night.

“The truth is I love you. The truth is I can't take this anymore. I'm giving you my everything but you don't seem to be doing the same. You're still guarded.” There was a tense period of silence “Jake… I love you. But I don't think you feel the same.”

Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. Maybe if you had kept your mouth shut, he would still be with you.

Ugh!! Stop that, now, (y/n)! Some self love, please? You're better than this. You deserve better.

You tried to convince yourself of that, at least.

The pain was unbearable at times and almost easy to conceal at other times. It depended on how distracted with work or your studies you were. These days you ran to any distraction that could ease the perpetual angst that squeezed your heart inside its hands all the fucking time. It had been like that ever since Jake left you. What were you expecting anyway? You should have known you were never truly loved by Jake. The love of his life was Neytiri and it would always be, alive and walking through Pandora or dead and with Eywa.

It felt beyond weird to have to hear people talking about Jake and have to pretend he was a stranger to you, someone you barely knew, when he had actually left a mark so strong on you, a memory ingrained in your brain, a feeling, a pain buried inside your heart that made you want to scream and hit your head against a wall. That's how much it hurt.

You would never have his body against yours again, warming you up when it was cold, after you spent the whole day in that damn lab, studying Pandoran plants but all you could really concentrate on was how much you missed his reassuring, protective presence. He made you feel safe for the first time in your life. But now he is gone. Just like every single good thing you ever had in your life. But you know what? Maybe your mother was right, maybe love wasn't really something that could ever last forever.

Did Jake ever really make a real effort to be with you? Thinking back, it was extremely easy for him to just come to you and fuck you anytime he felt sad and lonely. What if you had just been a naive, dumb girl all this time? Were you mourning a love that never actually existed? It was always so hard to talk to him about his feelings for you, he never actually let you in, to be honest. All the time you two spent together, you were never able to know if he ever saw you as a partner or just a fuck buddy.

Oh, but the high… it was worth all the lows. The butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were almost caught fucking in the back of your work room by Norm. Eventually you guys had to tell him about your situationship because, oh well… he already knew what was going on, really. Norm is not a fool or a child. He could add 2 plus 2.

The adrenaline was worth all the tears. And, fuck… you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

𓆩♡𓆪

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illubean · 3 months

Text

a lwky selfship coded drabble because I can't stop thinking about this...

It wasn't often you got to see him like this.

Between him getting ready for high school volleyball nationals and your own club activities, the only time you really had to see your boyfriend was on those rare weekends where neither of you had to catch up on schoolwork.

You lay atop his chest, admiring him as he was sprawled out on your bed beneath you. To anyone else, the sassy blonde looked a bit silly surrounded by pastel bedsheets and a mountain of plushies. But to you, this was perfect.

He hummed in content, soaking up your presence while your finger drew shapes on his left pectoral. His eyes fluttered shut, body relaxing as you planted gentle kisses across his face, basking in your warmth and wrapping his lean arms around you in an embrace.

This is where Tsukishima Kei truly blonged.

I HAVE LIKE 3 MORE IN THE CHAMBER FOR THIS MAN

#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #hq tsukishima #tsukki #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #haikyuu tsukki #hq tsukki #tsukkishima kei #tsukki x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu brainrot #haikyuu drabbles

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vaggieslefteye · 14 days

Text

Alastor's facial expression journey as he says: "Almost makes one sentimental."

Interesting details: -The old radio effect on his voice clears up significantly as he says the words "almost makes." -The use of "one" as the subject of his sentence instead of "me." -Closing his eyes. Alastor decidedly does not look at this group of people while saying this line in particular, despite gazing fondly at them at the start. -Shaking his head. Alastor shakes his head a total of three times as he says the word "sentimental." Shaking one's head side-to-side is considered the universal gesture for no. -This entire moment happens in just over 2 seconds. (Not all frames of the animation are shown here) It's very blink-and-you'll-miss-it.

Of course I have my ideas as to what this could mean. However, attempting to truly prove anything via reading body language in fiction and/or real life is always a lost cause, given that it's pseudoscience and you can never know anything for sure with that information alone. So these are guesses based on what his body language may be suggesting given what we know of his personality, his history with the hotel gang, and the given context of this scene.

I can say this with confidence, though: I think something stirred in him here, and we're very lucky as the audience to have witnessed it.

Everyone during this "last night alive" scene is, in some way, acting with the idea that some or all of them will be dead the next morning. So there's a good chance for emotional provocation. It seems like not even Alastor is immune to it. Has he had these thoughts about getting attached to the group for an amount of time before this scene? Did it hit him right then and there? There's no way to tell. But either way, I think physically talking about it out loud can be a way for him to control it. He can acknowledge that the idea and possibility is there and real, but at the same time insist that it won't apply to him, even though it could.

And yet, it seems he can't look directly at them while acknowledging this hypothetical sentiment. Sometimes we as humans avert our eyes or shut them completely from things that cause discomfort. He also can't quite commit to saying "Almost makes me sentimental. / I admit, I could get accustomed..." and instead puts the burden of this scenario on "one," or, a person just in general. That's interesting. And shaking his head could mean a lot of different things: Is it to release tension? Is it him unconsciously emphasizing the "almost" in his statement, like saying almost, but not quite? Or in that same vein, trying to literally shake the idea of becoming sentimental off of his mind? Multiple of these? Who knows.

As for his voice becoming clearer... When asked during a Q and A if Alastor loses the static in his voice when he's being more honest/genuine, Medrano answered: "That's something I can't reveal. Obviously, that's a big tell." I guess the answer will come with time :)

With all that being said, I don't think these feelings he may be having here are that significant to him. At the end of the day, he's still egocentric as ever and, more than anything, wants his freedom from his deal and to be "pulling all the strings." Friendship with this group is simply a low priority or petty distraction to him at best, and something that could actively get in the way of these goals at worst. If anything, this scene served to plant a seed and provide crucial context for both the ambiguity of his feelings toward the hotel gang in general and for his verse in the song Finale - as well as provide setup for the next few seasons. Either way, it looks like he doesn't want to become attached to them and won't let himself, either.

IF there is sentiment present, this moment here is his attempt to nip it in the bud. Only time will tell whether he was successful or not.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #hazbin alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #screencaps #photo #👁.txt #this character makes me scratch my head so much. i'm certain that's intentional.#also hey woah... for ONCE i put my thoughts into its OWN POST instead of three trillion tags on a gifset i made #wow!! incredible!!!#oops... didnt mean to post it right NOW. oh well :D

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ohnonononononono567 · 7 months

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Carry me - Simon "Ghost" Riley x m!reader (angst)

Games

Bit by Bit

(This was made after 1am and I projected my OCD onto a fictional character so that's on me guys, my bad. Any bad writing can be blamed on the fact I was watching chernobyl with my cat and eating the saltiest fried chicken sandwich known as i wrote this)

"Simon-"

"Don't." He grunted, leaving his position in your bed. Never his.

The day he admits it's his bed as well, is the day he has the ability to sleep peacefully. And God knows when he'll be granted that right.

He awoke to the sound of screams, his ears ringing. The feeling of water and blood rapidly running under his skin, as if his flesh begged to be free.

You had rolled over to hold his midriff, and Lord help him with how much he's grown attached to you, with how much he wanted to pin you down as if you were nothing more than another enemy in his eyes.

He shot up, just to feel the familiar sting of a hook in his rib as he had sat on the bed.

Stepping out onto the patio with a grunt, a tank top and some joggers on with slippers. The apartment's patio serving as the perfect place to have a smoke, the dog yawning to join. Big fella, she was, nudging snout onto Simons leg.

Sitting down, he grabs a light, lighting the cigarette he had hiding cheekily in his pocket, when he had swore up and down he wasn't smoking anymore less than 8 hours ago.

Burn your wrist.

Shut up Riley, you know better than to act on that.

Do it now.

No.

He leaned back, allowing the nicotine to enter his system, and the tobacco to leave a lasting smell on the rough pads of his fingers. He watched you from the corner of your eye. Silent panic. Wanting to help him. But you can't. All he can do is lie to a therapist and come home to you.

He made this worse. Leave him. You're nothing, but he's worse.

Stop.

He saw you at your worst. Why stay?

Because he saw me at my worst. And he stayed.

He shouldn't have.

Stop.

He knows nothing about you and he goes to sleep saying bull crap about loving you.

"STOP!"

He yells, grabbing his hair in two fists on the side of his head, the cigarette between his fingers, lingering in the night air as the sound of the city stand beneath him.

He looks at you, and you seem to just be staring. Frozen.

It spitballs, as he meets your gaze;

"Stop fucking staring at me like that yeah? You can't fucking help me! You deal with me, or you kick me out. Should've done that by now if you've ever known what's good for you!" He says, throwing his hands up in the air out of exasperation, the dog yelping a bit as she backs away. He heads back inside, putting out the cigarette, and snatching his blanket, heading towards the couch.

You gave him a look as he left. He knew that look. You've set boundaries, he was trying to be healthy for you. Honest. You wouldn't stand for verbal abuse, nor disrespect. But he was weak. Useless in the presence of a man like you.

He knew better than to immediately go to you. He left earlier for the gym that morning, called off work, went to one of those shitty manmade parks with more dog piss than a fire hydrant, and sat himself down. Right in the grass, watching a single dandelion. It was weak. But it still stood in the grass. It moved with the wind, even when it lost it's soft white petals.

And when it was stripped naked, bare, with nothing left to offer, there was another dandelion there. Planted from the wind carrying it. Ready to repeat the cycle.

Why is he doing this? He'll repeat what his father did. He was the end of it. No relatives to fall back on. God knows how much he's begged to bring his brother, Tommy back.

But that's just it. He's the end of the cycle.

Get up. Nobody is coming to save you.

He stands before you now, with nothing to offer, but the willingness to move with you if you'd allow him. If you'd allow a weak man like him to remain with you. He'll continue to lose his petals, but you'll help him plant new flowers. To utter the words,

"I can never truly tell you how sorry I am, love. You are the man I want. You are everything. And it's not enough. But I am trying."

Looking up at you, his bones brittle, his eyes heavy.

He wants to sleep. To feel his flesh settle, his mind quiet.

And as you embrace him, he can feel every molecule in his skin burning.

And if you ever let reality hit that you deserve someone who could think like a bloody normal human for once, would he continue to survive for as long as he could without you to carry him. Until he allowed the world to end what it started.

You are everything.

Laying in bed, your hands hesitantly rubbing his back in soft circular motions as he keeps his head in your tummy, soft breathing as the dog nuzzled into the crook between you two, soft kisses lingering on his tongue, it leaves him before he can chase after it;

"...Would you ever marry me?"

@tabloid-junki3 i dont think i cooked but i did heat it up in the microwave so

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camels-pen · 8 months

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post-timeskip Sanji is sent back in time to a point before Sabaody. I don't really have a whole thing for this, just Sanji having to restrain himself from yelling at his younger self to please, dear god, do NOT let Usopp get sent to Boin on his own.

He's also taking a lot of time to drag Usopp to the kitchen and give him lessons on proper nutrition and cooking. Usopp- as with everyone else- is very confused. Sanji's the cook, isn't he? That's his job, not Usopp's.

Sanji has to make up some excuse about being sick once and Usopp planning and cooking meals so badly that it has haunted him for years. Man, having a chronic liar and storyteller for a boyfriend is really rubbing off on him. Not that he's complaining at the moment.

Despite his confusion, Usopp genuinely has a good time with Sanji. Especially since he's not really cooking, more just writing stuff down in a notebook while Sanji lists off different recipes and why they're good to know off the top of his head. He doesn't understand why every recipe seems like they'd be best suited for camping out in a large, killer bug and plant-infested forest- specific, yes, but also Sanji keeps making a note about that after he lists off each recipe. Usopp is going to avoid thinking about it too deeply.

Younger Sanji, meanwhile, is pouting and denying it to anyone who points it out. His kitchen gets commandeered and it feels like his older self is mocking him. Like every time he pulls Usopp to the galley, he's saying, "Look how easily I can touch him, compliment him, make him laugh. Look how weak and cowardly you are." and younger Sanji can't stand it.

He'd grown a bit distant from Usopp since realizing his romantic feelings for him back in Water 7- and isn't that fucked up? it was only after they were in a hotel for the night, Usopp well and truly not a part of the crew anymore, that Sanji had felt an aching in his heart. The same ache that followed him now, though it's far more pleasant than it had been in that hotel.

Eventually, there's some kind of portal that appears high above Sunny and very distant high pitched screaming. Familiar high pitched screaming.

"SANJI!"

Sanji gets a big grin on his face and without thinking he uses Sky Walk to meet the quickly growing speck in the shape of a person. He holds out his arms and catches a flailing post-TS Usopp in his arms.

"Oh thank god," he said, quickly wrapping his arms around Sanji's neck. Sanji lowered them down to the deck and they were immediately surrounded.

"Holy shit, I'm buff!" younger Usopp said.

"Did Sanji-san just jump into the sky?!" Brook exclaimed, with similar sentiments echoed by Luffy and Chopper, sparkles in their eyes. "How- what- how?"

"Older Usopp's outfit is looking pretty super too!"

"You're only saying that because I'm half-naked Franky," Usopp said, unimpressed. "Don't put me on the same level as you, weirdo."

"Haha, sure thing, no need for flattery."

"It wasn't."

"Not that I'm not enjoying all this- and loving that you're here, mon cher," -younger Sanji's eye twitched- "but you have a surefire route back, right?"

"Of course!" He pointed up at the still open portal above Sunny. "Zoro's threatening the devil fruit user to keep that open until we come back. He was actually the one to find the guy in the first place."

Sanji groaned. "Mossball's never gonna let me forget it."

"It's nice that some things stay the same." younger Zoro said, smug. "I still have to bail your ass out all the time."

"Shut the fuck up!" both Sanji's yelled simultaneously.

Usopp laughed. "He gets into his share of trouble, but Zoro, you really shouldn't say anything. I mean, just wait until you lose your-"

Sanji slapped a hand over Usopp's mouth. "They're not there yet, darling."

Younger Sanji and younger Usopp's faces darkened.

Sanji could feel Usopp pout under his hand. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

Sanji rolled his eye. "I can guess."

"I could've meant his favourite haramaki. Or one of his swords. Or-"

"Dear, there's only one thing you constantly bring up that mosshead lost. I get that he's never told anyone how it happened, but you really need to let it go."

"How can a storyteller let go of a mystery like that?? You might as well ask me to cut off my tongue right now."

"Ah, but then how would you taste all the snacks I make for you?"

"You know, I survived for two years on a deadly, man eating island with nothing but-"

Younger Usopp loudly cleared his throat. Sanji and Usopp turned to him. With his flush still very visible, he said, "You can get down now."

"Aww, but Sanji's arms are comfy," Usopp whined, nuzzling Sanji's neck.

Younger Sanji stomped towards them. "Either older me lets you down, or I-"

Sanji raised a brow. "You what? You're just an arrogant brat sailing through Paradise. No matter what you do, you can't force me- either of us, to do anything."

Younger Sanji bristled and Sanji was starting to feel like taking him down another peg, make him know his own faults before they're cruelly laid out in front of him, one crewmate disappearing after another. Usopp tugged on his collar, stopping him.

"We talked about this," Usopp said.

Sanji took a deep breath. "Yeah." He turned to his younger self. "Sorry, it's- I'm angry at myself. Not you."

"But aren't we-?"

Sanji shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

And with a few more accidental slip ups and very obvious flirting, Sanji and Usopp bid their pre-timeskip crew adieu and Sanji flies them up to the portal. Usopp definitely says something along the lines of "I'm so glad you're okay, I was really worried and I don't know what I'd do without you." and then he and Sanji share a kiss mid-air before finally going through the portal.

The portal snaps shut and most of the crew ends up hanging out and talking about what the heck just happened in a "oh huh, what an interesting event" type of way. Meanwhile, younger Sanji and Usopp are staring, mouths agape and incredibly flustered, at the spot where their older selves made out with each other.

#one piece #nemotime #sanuso #usopp #sanji #time travel au #most of this is 'eventually post-ts usopp shows up' which was an accident but im nonetheless enjoying it #post-ts usopp did NOT expect the portal to appear in the air. he walked into it normally and just started falling lmao #man this time travel shit is fun #i didnt even get into the details but yeah lmao

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wizardrousactivity · 8 months

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Feel better now?

Warnings: Angst, mating press, mentions of self-harm, mentions of relapsing, Fem!reader

Pairings: König x fem!Reader

Note: I am not very proud of this one because of my STUPID WRITING!!! but I did end up spending 2-3 hours on this so I’m hoping some people would enjoy it. Mwah love you all 2.3k words!

König felt his chest shrivel up once he saw your pouty lips and half-teary eyes, watching you storm out of the room while he was stumped.

Thinking of ways to apologize to his sweet girl flooded his noggin and he threw his hands out and fell back into his chair almost comically, grumbling and getting back to his paperwork while he tried to push away any other thoughts besides the box of his work. You shoved yourself into the bathroom, rubbing your hands all over your face to try to stop the tears that were making your face feel icky. Thrashing around to find your towel, the water running loudly in the background - the sounds couldn’t compare to how loud your thoughts were.

The shower felt harder that day, the water burning the red lines you inflicted on yourself yesterday.

You sat down on the wet floor, head in your palms as you sobbed, the tears falling from your face entwined with the water and vanished along with it. On your knees you grabbed the shampoo - cleaning yourself should never feel this difficult, you’ve grown soft.

Standing up, your body immediately planting itself onto the wall as your knees buckled. Nibbled lips, fingers clasped your mouth. Trying to suppress your gasps and whines. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve managed to do your hair and apply lotion to your body, since you’ve fixed yourself - you find that you’re capable enough to make dinner, putting on clothes you just washed, they’re warm and make you feel a bit better. The harm is visible, and you try to forget about it. Too drained to change into other clothes that hide your pink and white scars, busy prodding at your pajama shorts to make them just a little longer, even if it wont make a difference.

Leaving the bathroom you walk into the hallway hoping to see König doing paperwork in his office, or holding out his arms for you. Instead what's in front of you is a closed door, making the air catch in your throat.

The descend down the stairs feels melancholy, you feel as if your brain is off, walking only as if you’re a zombie dedicated to pleasing others. You want to make him happy, make him forget about your previous interaction with the blessing of food.

This week felt like the final straw, constantly trying to please people at your job - you’ve been trying so hard. Nobody was there for you, König looked at you with a face of anger, eyes narrowing yours. Going on about how he has helped you while you try to squeak out your words, and he yelled at you. Piercing and loud, making you tremble as you looked up at him like he had betrayed you. He screamed at himself in his head, scolding himself for lashing out on you. Years of aggression had changed him truly, down to his entire system - he doesn’t know how to respond now.

As soon as your hands touch the stove, you begin shaking, tears running down your face. You couldn’t find the energy in yourself to cook and it made you feel all the more disappointed in yourself, the walls of discipline you’ve built come crashing down.

Nails snuggled firmly into your arms as you sink down onto the floor, hyperventilating in frustration.

You cry into your skin for the umpteenth time, biting into your flesh so the man upstairs doesn’t hear you. Nothing has ever made you feel so useless, and you can't get over that.

A heavy hand on your shoulder makes you jump, interrupting your thoughts. You turn your back slowly, only to see the kindest pair of sleepy eyes looking back at your manic ones. Your eyelids shut tight, hands finding his shirt and pulling him in. “M’ so sorry..” It’s muffled into his shoulder and he pats your back, hands resting at your hips. He shushes you gently, eyes scanning over the numerous scars on your legs that looked almost too fresh - and he swore his heart paused for a second. König punches himself in the head mentally once again, biting his lip. “Not your fault..I shouldn’t have yelled. Shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

Your face digs itself into the small dip between his neck and shoulder, sobbing even harder - gasping for air between them. And he feels like a monster at this point.. “I’m sorry, mein Liebling, don’t waste all your tears on me.” König brings you in even closer, landing sloppy kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "I was wrong, never cry for me like that." He says, reassuring you in a stronger voice, yet it remains soft. König mumbles something under his breath, like he cursed himself forever, never to let you cry over something he failed to do - control his emotions around you.

You grab onto his jaw with need, locking lips with him in vast movements, and he lets it happen. Letting your tongue win the fight for dominance, hand gently resting at the back of your skull, the salty tang of your lips stimulating his organ of taste. But he couldn't care less.

Hums vibrate into your mouth pleasantly, he taps your back to let you know when he needs to breathe.

The kiss is broken after only his lungs start to burn for air, you’re still hungry for more of it. His breathing is heavy as he claws at the soft skin under your shirt, massaging your lower back and pulling you even closer to his warmth, pleasantly surprised at your actions. “Need more-” You hiccupped, mouth-agape with feeble sounds. “Please.”

“More of what? Tell me.”

“Want more of you- Need you.” You confess, and his heart cinches from its beat. Almost seizes to continue at the sight.

He simply nods, picking you up by your waist and putting you up against him - not where you're flat against his chest, holstered up enough so he can kiss your tummy, electrifying butterflies filling your abdomen. König plops you down on the bed, as gentle as he can possibly be - you look like glass to him right now as your legs hang off the side of the bed, you're sitting on the edge of it as he lowers himself.

He’s right in front of you, crouched. He’s kissing your thighs all over, strings of apologies you can’t hear when he runs along one of your scars. “Can I please.. I want to show you how sorry I am.” You know what he’s implying when his eyes drift down to your pussy, clothed but getting absolutely drenched underneath.

“Yes.. please.” A simple sniffle and he’s making snail work of your shorts with little kisses, pulling them off along with your panties. He’s purposely taking it slow with you, testing the waters.

Successfully spreading your thighs, he salivates. One look at your perfekt swollen clit and he’s down on his knees, offering one long lick to the slick heavenly gates. “So good.” He groans, now flicking your bead with his tongue in vast motions - and you mewl out, high pitched and needy. He’s so good at eating your pussy, wrapping his lips around the whole thing once he made you sensitive for it. “König..” A pule of his name leaves your lips, sending blood straight to his cock once again.

You gasp once you realize he’s rolling your hips onto his tongue, making you fuck yourself on his tongue with his hands. “Holy fuck-” Your toes curl, biting your bottom lip. The changes between flicking his tongue and sucking all feed into your upbuilding orgasm.

“König!” He stops abruptly at the last squeal of his name, right at the moment you felt yourself coming undone.

Standing at his full height you pout up at him. “I’m sorry- please, can’t let you cum yet. Need to show you.” He repeats, almost defeatedly, like he wants to fulfill your needs now.

König pulls down his pajama pants down to his ankles, before he positions himself in front of spread legs. Rubbing his tip against your clit, prodding against it deliberately. Making you sob, kick your feet against his back needily. “Uhuh. None of that, you’ll get what you want in a second.” Gentle, affirming.

“Gonna slip this in, slowly. You got that?” He affirms with you, and you're nodding your head urgently. It makes him chuckle, how pliant and needy you are.

You throw your head back once you feel his stretch, a wince passing through your lips. "Er nimmt es so gut auf.." He praises with a moan, a hand gently caressing your collarbone from where he stands.

He’s trying to distract you from the feel of his cock spreading you open, you’ve tightened up so much since the last time.

He finally gets the whole meat slab in with a plap, and you let out a sigh of relief. He finds it really cute, how you struggle beneath it. “You’ve got it.. Good girl, the best.” He dances his hips into yours, balls flat against your ass. “Made for my cock.” “So deep..” Your thighs tighten around him, begging him to start a pace already - the torture of slow, deep thrusts. “Hah- fuck.. Too slow Köni..” Ugh, you’re so fucking cute. Stop it. It’s taking enough of his willpower to not fuck you right into this bed.

“H-Harder..” König chuckles, grinning at how feverish you are. “Dirty girl.” Your knees are then pressed next to your ears, he’s putting you in some sort of mating press - making you swallow in anticipation, a little fear maybe. This position makes him feel deeper than ever, you’re clenching around him.

He swallows. “This is what you want? You can take it?” He doesn’t relent his rolls into you, like this is a casual interaction. “Yes- fuck- Please!” You beg and he immediately complies, making you jump up with every thrust of him into you, heavy balls slapping right against you. “You like this?” He doesn’t even need to have you answer, your mewls are speaking for you.

As soon as he gets you where he wants, a hard thrust is battered into you - making you cry out at the sheer force of it. He’s not cruel though, bending down so you could hold onto his shoulders. He gulps, adams apple bobbing. “This is what you wanted? Tell me, please.” He needs to get confirmation from you, eyes scanning over your face for any signs of discomfort. “Keep going.” You take his breath away, good girl. Taking all of this cock.

He bites his lip, denting your can roughly - the smacking of your skin is loud and sinful. His hands lay planted on your ankles, driving into you like a two dollar whore.

Broken moans escape your mouth as you constantly feel his dick ram against your cervix. ”Gonna show you how sorry I am.” Your body tensed up as you felt your orgasm approaching humiliatingly quick. Your legs tried to kick at something, but that's impossible with them suspended in the air, unable to move.

He just wont stop thrusting either, watching you try to form a sentence underneath him.

Waves of pleasure incinerate through your body, burning your insides with ecstasy and heat. The constant sliding of his shaft against your walls doesn't help it either, he's changed the angle which his dick hits to where its constantly drubbing your g-spot.

"Good- good pussy. I'm' hitting that pillowy spot." He laughs, orgasmic yet a little bit deranged in the middle of sex.

You gasp out, feeling a string in your stomach get unbearably thin. Your pussy clenches, it’s slightly nauseating from how tightly you’ve clamped. He moans, back arching from the feel of you squeezing him dangerously tight. “Fuck yeah, cum for me. Cum for me.. Ja..!” His head is thrown back, lost in just you completely.

The coil finally snaps and you squeal, your juices coming out squelching and running down your ass. You’re drooling, lips coated in saliva. And he just wants to clean up all of that with his kisses, connect your saliva together.

"Ah! König!" You yelp, vision turning white as overwhelming waves of bliss start hitting you like a truck.

Your toes uncurled once you’ve gotten off your high, signs of it still lingering around in your stomach - feels like your pussy is beating as fast and hard as your heart.

But you can’t forget, he’s looking for his release as well. Mouth open and panting above you like a mutt. His moans announce his upcoming orgasm while rutting into your sensitive pussy like a bitch in heat. Your hand comes up to his chest to try and get his pace to relent - but it’s not possible to push past a brick wall. You’ve already started sobbing at this point from the overstimulation, mewls for König to be gentler goes in from one ear out from the other. Or if he can even hear you.

With the clenching of your snatch he's throwing his head back with a broken moan. "Hng-auh..! It's been so long since he's had good pussy like yours, and you best believe he's enjoying himself.

A rumbling deep inside of him, lingers of an upcoming orgasm taking over his well-mannered self. Now his hands have moved up to your ankles, putting himself in a plank and pounding so hard you think you'd die.

König's trying to match your moans like an orchestral performance, seemingly like he's mocking you, yet it's full of honesty and neediness. "Close hmng- yes.. fuck m-" He announces before cutting himself off unplanned, spurting into your storage room with his buttocks clenched forwards to push semen further into you.

The mongrel of the house squeezing your ankles with a sob once he feels his high hit him like it did yours, keeping his shaft nestled in you while he finds himself in ecstasy - unknowing of your suffering from overstimulation beneath him. Beaten and battered pussy.

He doesn’t notice your trembling body underneath him till he hears you let out a feeble sound of his name. Looking down to your shaking legs, thighs covered in your splattered juices. And by god, are you a sight.

“No more..” You mumbled, unable to coherently speak to him anymore. He pulls out of you, a small squelch being heard from how good he's spread you out. "Ja, won't fuck you anymore." He gravely snickered, letting your legs down from the sore position they were in.

König practically purrs out his praises, running his hands up and down your body. “Let’s get you to the bathroom now, a bath?” He suggests, your ears perk up at the sound of a warm bath surrounding your achy body.

Bonus ;)

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