#I stay in the house and mind my own business

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 5 (Yandere Sabo x Reader)

on Ao3

All the other chapters

You meet Ace over dinner. Sabo makes a snail call.

You didn’t react when Sabo mentioned Ace’s name, just continued trudging behind him. Interesting, even before his execution, Ace's name brought a certain amount of curiosity and notoriety. You were trying to take in information about the island as you walked along the path to the house.  There was no point, it was a small uncharted island in the middle of nowhere, no one could find it without a permanent log pose. It was an autumn island but was currently in its spring season. Sabo liked the island a lot and had been enjoying the little time he was able to spend on it. If Sabo hadn’t had to leave all the time for missions, he would have loved to spend his time on the island. It had a natural waterfall and small freshwater lagoon, some wildlife, and a lot of shady trees and vegetation.  You were looking at some of the wildflowers that had grown along the side of the beaten path to the house. You raised your hands as if to magnify a purple flower but stopped yourself, finally noticing that Sabo was watching you.

"It's a little chilly out, would you like my jacket?" Sabo suggested. You shook your head to decline his offer.

“What were you doing about a year and a half ago?” Sabo asked you. You scrunched your little nose in thought, eyebrows drawn.

“Working,” you replied quietly, not giving any further detail. Ah, you were wary of him now that you felt better and were on land. It was a reasonable reaction to have, Sabo didn’t mind. You didn’t see the bigger picture, didn't understand the plans Sabo had for you. Anyone would be upset by a drastic change, especially one they didn’t plan themselves. 

The island was a perfect place for you to stay for the time being. You would be safe, unable to be tracked by the Marines. Sabo knew they would try to find you, bring you back to their base, and he couldn’t let that happen. As a bonus, there was no one else to talk to on the island besides him and his brother. You would get over your fear and nervousness of him if you had no one else to interact with. If he’d taken you back to the RA headquarters, he knew you’d be a companion to Koala, make friends with Betty and Lindbergh, and he just knew Iva would love you. So for now you needed to stay isolated with them on the island. They’d all get to know you in a few months when Sabo brought you to Momoiro. He knew you were lonely, you’d gravitate to him and Ace sooner or later. Sabo knew Ace would like you, he just had to get over some of his…issues. Sabo planned to keep you here until you’d accepted your situation - and him. 

“Are you familiar with Marineford?” Sabo asked.

“Um, the new one or the old one? I know the old one was destroyed and Whitebeard and Gol D. Roger’s son were killed there but I never caught up completely on the news.” You started wringing your hands, Sabo noticed, as if you were worried about being caught. “I was supposed to but I had a lot to do and I was busy -”

“Researching,” Sabo said, finishing your sentence for you. Your face soured, but Sabo wasn’t making fun of you, you were as dedicated to your field as he was to his own. Making your way to the little house Sabo shared with Ace, he held open the unlocked door for you. It was dark inside, all the curtains drawn, the air musty and stale. Ah, Ace must be stewing again. At least it was warm inside, you were only wearing Sabo’s old tunic.

“Ace, c’mere, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he called out into the darkness. Sabo moved towards the curtains and you moved along with him. You looked like you were scared that someone was going to pop out of the shadows. Sabo slowed down so you’d bump into him while you looked around. It was foolish, but he relished any contact he could have with you. “Aaaaaaace,” Sabo called out in a sing-song voice, “where aaaaaaare youuuuu?” Sabo opened one of the curtains, sunlight now pouring into the room. You yelped as you saw Ace, slouching on the couch, arms folded and frowning, staring silently at you. You bumped back into Sabo again, this time he reached out and held your upper arm for ‘support.’

“Ace, stop moping for a few minutes. We have a guest.” Sabo stood behind you, almost presenting you to his brother. Ace glared at you, still silent. “Oh, don’t be mad. It’s time you saw someone other than me,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes. Ace leaned forward, stood up, and left the house, slamming the door behind him, making you jump again. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back when he gets hungry,” Sabo said, patting your shoulder. 

Your POV

You weren’t worried whether Sabo’s brother would be back or not. He scared the shit out of you, sitting there in the darkness, staring at you. He didn’t bear a lot of physical resemblance to Sabo, but the staring reminded you of Sabo. Ace had long, wavy black hair, reaching past his shoulder blades. It looked unkempt, like he hadn’t brushed it in a long time. He was wearing a Wano style yukata, with no shirt underneath. He had a lot of bandages over his chest, nearly the entire area was covered. 

“Ace has been having a…rough time,” Sabo hedged. “But he’s actually really nice. You’ll like him, he’s like me in a lot of ways.” You weren’t sure you liked Sabo , much less Ace, but you didn’t voice that thought out loud. You appreciated Sabo’s kindness when you were ill, but you’d been fine without his help, and you definitely didn’t want to be kidnapped. If your meeting with Sakazuki had gone well, you were expecting a promotion and transfer to another base. But now you weren’t sure you’d ever see anyone besides Sabo and his brother ever again.

Sabo opened more of the curtains and windows, letting in the fresh air. “Much better,” he said to himself. Turning to you, he clapped his hands together with a smile. “Let’s give you a tour of the house, yes?” Sabo led you through the house, starting with the living room. The living room, kitchen, Sabo’s office and a bathroom were all on the first floor while closets, another bathroom, and the two bedrooms were on the second. It was clear people were living there, but there was something missing. The house wasn’t decorated at all, no photos, no art, nothing to make it a home. It felt like a hospital room, it had the basic necessities but nothing personal. 

“You’re welcome in any unlocked room of the house, you live here now. That room,” he said, pointing to a closed door, “is Ace’s.” It looked like the door had been kicked and stabbed a few times. “This one,” Sabo gestured to another door on the right, “is ours.” 

“W-what do you mean ours ?” you stammered, suddenly uncomfortable. You knew you were wearing Sabo’s clothes on Sabo’s island, but you hadn’t thought he would be so…forward. You were abruptly reminded of the differences in your heights, weights, and fighting abilities. You took a step back, but Sabo took one forward, keeping you near him.

“Our room,” Sabo said slowly, as if you were confused about the meaning of his words. “We were already sharing a room on the ship and I thought it worked out well. Besides, there aren’t any more rooms or any other houses on the island. I’m not saying we have to share the same bed, ” Sabo said, rolling his eyes. You hadn’t given much thought to where Sabo had been sleeping on the ship, but you supposed you’d been sharing a room in some way.

“Oh, um, ok. I can, um, sleep on the floor. I don’t mind,” you offered. Sabo balked at your statement.

“We’ll figure it out later,” he said dismissively. Something told you that you wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor. “Now, let’s get some food going. I’m worried about you after that trip. We need to get you healthier, starting with proper nutrition.” Sabo was so serious at that moment, like he was considering all the ways he could help you feel better. He did also cause some of your problems, but you didn’t think he wanted to hear that. 

Sabo brought you to the small kitchen and guided you to the chairs. The kitchen had bar style seating overlooking the main cooking area, complete with barstools. Sabo opened cabinets and drawers, taking stock of the food that was left. Earlier, when Sabo took off your blindfold, you saw that there were crates being unloaded as well, so you knew there would be more food. You hoped Sabo was a good cook, it wasn’t really your forte. You could make a few dishes very well, but were content to eat whatever the mess hall cooked. You found cooking boring and didn’t like spending your time on it. Sabo had his back turned to you, filling a pitcher of water from a barrel. He set it in front of you, along with a cup.

“Here, sit and drink some water. I’ll cook.” You sat at his command, watching him in silence. Sabo started removing some of his layers in preparation for cooking, putting his jacket on the back of the chair next to you. He didn’t take off his gloves, though, even after rolling up his sleeves to cook. Sabo took off his top hat, looking for a place to put it. He reached over, and put it on your head with an unblinking stare and a smile. You paused mid-sip, unsure what to do. You felt like a wild animal that had been sighted by a hunter. You reached up and took the hat off your head, placing it on the counter next to you. Sabo gave a nervous laugh.

“Sorry, I was just trying to be silly. Looks good on you, though.” Sabo brushed off the strange interaction and started pulling out ingredients from the cabinets. He was talking to you, almost monologuing, as you sipped your water and listened, hands shaking slightly. You were feeling unprotected and exposed, fully at the mercy of the Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army. Sabo didn’t notice, and kept up the one sided conversation while preparing what looked like stew. As he prepared the food, your mouth watered. Sabo may have kidnapped you and brought you to a secluded island, but he could make a delicious smelling stew. 

“-found this island by accident, and I ended up living here over the past year. It’s quaint and out of the way, which I like. I actually prefer spring islands, but this one is nice too. Ace has also been here for about a year, recovering. We’re not actually -”

The door banged open, making you startle again. You were getting tired of Ace scaring you, it made you even more anxious than you already were. You had to put down the cup you’d been holding your hands were so unsteady. Ace stalked over to the counter, sitting at the next bar stool. He moved Sabo’s hat from in front of his seat to the couch rather delicately, you noticed. He frowned at you but didn’t say anything.

“Welcome back, Ace. Want some food?” Sabo ladeled some incredible smelling stew over rice, handing the bowl to Ace. Ace grunted, and started shoveling it in with a spoon. Literally shoveling. “We’ll do introductions after you’ve eaten,” Sabo declared. Ace barely looked up from his food. Sabo handed another bowl to you.

“For you, Mag - er - what should I call you now? I know you asked me not to call you by that atrocious nickname anymore.” You took the bowl and set it down, thinking. You didn’t want him to know your real name, to know even more information about you than he already did.

“Um, I’m not -” 

Sabo cut you off, smiling. “How about Sunshine?” Sabo was clearly excited about this idea, but you couldn’t understand the nickname. Was he making fun of you?

“Sunshine? Why Sunshine?” You gave him a distrustful look. 

“Because you make my day brighter!” Sabo said with a grin. That earned another grunt from Ace, who looked like he was about to pass out face down. Even though you were at his mercy, you didn’t like Sabo mocking you.

“I don’t think so, I don’t - I don’t do that. That’s not me.” You looked down at your stew, not wanting to meet his gaze. You felt a leather glove underneath your chin, pulling your head up to look at Sabo, who had a fond look on his face. 

“It’s true. You are my sunshine. You’ll believe me eventually.” Sabo rubbed his thumb over your cheek, then let go. You felt confused. You liked Sabo - well, had liked Sabo - but this was too much for you. You were his only romantic choice on the island, that was probably why he was doing weird things. You ignored it for now. 

“Now then, Ace, this is Sunny. Sunny, this is Ace,” Sabo said, taking the seat on your other side. You were in between the two brothers and it was uncomfortably silent.

“Ace, say hello. Don’t be rude,” Sabo said in a clipped tone. You could tell Sabo was getting annoyed, and that made you worried. You’d never seen Sabo mad before, but you could tell it wasn’t something you wanted to see. Ace still didn’t say anything, steadfastly staring at his bowl as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Pardon us for a moment,” Sabo said to you, smiling. With that, he walked around you and grabbed Ace by the ear. Sabo yanked him backwards off the stool, causing Ace to yelp and stumble. Sabo didn’t let go and dragged a floundering Ace out the door, slamming it behind them. You heard a muffled Sabo talking to his brother, mentioning something about manners and hospitality. You finally heard Ace’s voice as he shouted back at his brother. 

“FINE!” Ace yelled at Sabo, opening the door again. He gave you a once over, like he was finally seeing you.

“I’m Ace. Nice to meet you,” he grumbled, inclining his head slightly. He sat back down next to you and picked his spoon back up.

“I’m, uh, Sunny, I guess?” You’d go with Sabo’s cringey suggestion for now. You didn’t think he knew your identity and you weren’t going to provide it. 

“Great! Now we all know each other. I met Sunny at Bayonette -”

“You kidnapped me from Bayonette,” you interjected quietly. You weren’t going to let him forget that you weren’t here voluntarily. 

“You a Marine?” Ace asked, still watching his food.

“Yes,” you replied.

“No,” Sabo replied at the same time. “She was a Marine, but no longer.” You looked at Sabo curiously. Sometimes the way he spoke reminded you of nobles you’d met a few times. But you didn’t know any nobles who joined the Revolutionary Army. It was probably just a quirk, like his suits and top hat. Ace finished his stew and got off his chair.

“See ya around,” he said, going to his room and shutting the door behind him.

Sabo POV

Ace was being annoying but the introduction had actually gone better than Sabo had expected. Ace hadn’t seen anyone besides Sabo since they’d come to live on the island together over a year ago. It was time for Ace to start reacclimating to society, starting with meeting new people. When he met you, he knew you’d be a good person for Ace to befriend. You were smart but oblivious, kind but reserved, intelligent but humble, similar qualities to those Ace had. Since Marineford, Ace’s self confidence and self worth issues had increased exponentially. Sabo tried talking to him about it but he could tell that Ace wasn’t taking to heart what Sabo said. Maybe if he heard it from someone else he would actually listen.

You were still eating, but Sabo unfortunately had work to do before the end of the day. All part of being second in command of an army, he supposed. 

“Stay here and finish your food,” Sabo declared, pouring you another cup of water. “I have to make a call in my office, it shouldn’t take too long. When you’re done eating, feel free to explore the house or the island. If you’re cold, there’s more clothes in our room. Wear anything you want.” Sabo said, putting a hand on your back. You looked up at him like a little lamb, large eyes so innocent and lost. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you, but he knew it wasn’t the time. He had nearly lost his self control when he saw you in his hat, picturing you riding his cock wearing it and nothing else. He’d get some physical contact with you again tonight, after you slept. You’d be sharing a bed, whether you knew it or not. 

Sabo left you and walked briskly to his office, needing to call Dragon. He’d delayed calling for a while, wanting to get his thoughts in order before calling his boss. Sabo didn’t like doing anything impulsively, he preferred to plan meticulously and strategically. He needed to ensure Dragon saw the benefit of having you as an RA asset, rather than some woman he grabbed for comfort. He woke the white den den mushi and started placing his call.

Puru puru puru puru puru puru…

Dragon picked up on the second ring. 

“It’s Sabo. Mission ‘Bastille’ completed, with a deviation in plans.” He knew Koala would have informed Dragon already but he wanted the boss to hear it from him as well.

“Welcome back. Go on.” 

“No further research will be completed on the project, permanently. I was not able to destroy the base as desired but will return at a later date to do so.”

“Why? You were there long enough.”

“A complication arose. I captured the lead scientist, she was working alone. She remains with me at the current time. She could be a critical asset for the RA.” Sabo didn’t actually care if Dragon approved or not, but his life would be easier if he did. Dragon didn’t answer so Sabo continued.

“I believe her to be the scientist behind Project Angel. Her area of expertise and writing style suggest it. She could continue innovation on the project, perhaps to completion.” Sabo let it drop, he knew Dragon well enough to know he was thinking over the proposition. The line went silent for 30 seconds. 

“Gain her confidence, have her work on furthering the project. She may remain in your custody as long as you believe her research to be credible. A ship will be sent to your location.” Sabo smiled to himself. Dragon was hooked, as Sabo knew he’d be. He knew dropping his thoughts about your involvement with Project Angel was enough to show your usefulness. Sabo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, no matter what the outcome of the conversation was, but he wanted to provide you with purpose. You could serve the Revolutionary Army, at least from afar. Sabo wasn’t surprised Dragon ordered him to the base, but also wasn’t happy about it. He would have to leave you on the island with Ace for a few weeks. But, it would give the two of you time to bond and enjoy each other’s company. Ace, despite his vocal objections, craved human comfort and contact, which you would provide to him. 

Sabo’s heart felt lighter, despite the news of upcoming travel, as he hung up the snail. He wrote a few notes on some reports, read through a note or two and then decided to leave for the night. He left the office door ajar purposefully. He knew you were hiding in the bathroom and listening in, but he wanted to see what you would do. He went from the office to your shared room to freshen up the linens and prepare the room for the night. And to watch you, of course.

Your POV

After your dinner, you’d gone to the restroom near Sabo’s office. You hadn’t been planning on snooping ( again…) but while coming out, you heard yourself being mentioned in conversation. You would need to gather all the information you could if you wanted to escape the island. You heard the tail end of Sabo’s conversation with…Dragon? Obviously, if Sabo was second in command, the only person who could give him orders was the Supreme Commander, Dragon. You were just surprised to hear the deep voice coming out of the snail, you couldn’t imagine any other Marine had heard it and lived. 

Sabo said you had been involved in ‘Project Angel,’ but you weren’t sure what that was. You’d never worked on anything with that name, but maybe the RA gave their own code names to Marine projects. You weren’t generally working on complete projects, just given assignments that didn’t always link together. How did they know about your work anyway? How did Sabo know your writing style? None of it was published, it was all classified information that only top Marines had access to. 

Your stomach soured as you heard Dragon confirm the conclusion you’d already drawn yourself. Sabo wanted you to work for them, maybe on the assignment you had been assigned when Sabo kidnapped you. Dragon had given him direct orders to get you to complete work for them by gaining your confidence. No wonder Sabo had started touching you and put his hat on your head. He was trying to endear himself to you by any means necessary. You distantly wondered if any of it was real or if it was all engineered to make you fall for him. Anything for the cause, you supposed. You felt dejected, cast aside yet again. 

During your stay on the ship, you’d gotten too comfortable with Sabo, relying on him time and time again. Well, no longer. You were determined to get off the island, get back to the Marines and never see Sabo ever again. Besides, you had started worrying about your family again. They might have heard news that you were kidnapped, which would devastate them. Even more than that, you were anxious about what would happen to them now that your paychecks wouldn’t be coming in. You hadn’t worked for the Marines long enough to have a pension, only a small payout if you died in the call of duty. But since you weren’t confirmed dead, your family wouldn’t be eligible. You chewed on your cuticle as you thought of your sister with EDS, your overworked mother, and your younger siblings. You would either have to escape soon or come up with another way to get money to them. 

You heard Sabo leave the office, the door left open. He did say you could go into any unlocked room in the house. If he didn’t want you going to his office, he would have told you it was off limits or locked it. Peeking out of the door, you made sure Sabo wasn’t there. You darted from the bathroom to the office as quickly as you could. The office was the same as it was when he gave you the house tour in the afternoon. It was small but cozy, with an overstuffed loveseat against one wall, and a large desk that took up most of the space in the room. On the desk were many papers in different piles, sorted by category. There were piles of books and articles about Devil Fruits, some old newspaper clippings, and letters and reports related to the RA. In the corner of the desk was an old photo of him and Ace as kids, with another young boy. That must be the third brother Sabo mentioned once. They looked happy, all their faces squished together smiling. Sabo was wearing a smaller version of the same hat, and he and Ace had lead pipes. It made you think about your own siblings. You chewed on your nail as your hand shook.

On the opposing corner was the snail that Sabo had used to call Dragon. It looked different than snails you’d seen before. You’d never been given your own Marine snail, you just used the office one when you needed to make any calls. Creeping over to the sleeping snail, you put your shaking hand out to wake it up. Maybe you could call your base and tell them that you were alive? Let them know where you were? You were nervous, scared that Sabo would find you and punish you for trying to call for help.

Putting your shaking hand on the snail’s shell, it woke up and waited for you to make a call. You wavered back and forth, unsure what to do. Ultimately, you pulled your hand back, the snail returning to slumber. You didn’t want to waste a good opportunity when you didn’t have information. You didn’t know where you were or any coordinates that could help them find you. The call could be traced but only if you were able to stay on the line for 3 minutes or longer, which you didn’t think you could do without Sabo finding out. No, you’d wait to make a call when you thought it more advantageous. Maybe Ace could be tricked into giving you more information.

Sabo POV

Sabo was proud of you. He knew it wasn’t fair to test you, he knew you were still unsure of what his intentions were. After overhearing his phone call with Dragon, surely you understood that Sabo respected you for your abilities, not just your looks. He watched you extend a shaking hand to the snail, even going so far as to wake it up. You didn’t know, but the snail would only call Dragon, it was a white den den mushi. Chewing your lip, you were at a crossroads but decided not to call. Sabo was happy to see that your trust in him was growing, that you didn’t immediately reach out for rescue. You were starting to accept your place with him and on the island. Maybe you thought to find out more information first, he mused, but Sabo wasn’t foolish. He would only leave the snail out this once, taking it with him when he had to leave. Ace had his own that could call Sabo, you’d be fine.

“Find anything interesting?” Sabo asked, making you squeak. He was leaning against the door jamb, watching you look at his desk. He felt bad for scaring you, but it was hard not to when everything made you jump.

“Oh, uh, n-no, nothing. Just, um, looking. I-it’s ok, right? You said I could?” If Sabo’s soldiers acted like you did when caught, he would send them all back to basic training. But in you it was endearing.

“Of course you can look. Anything that is accessible is available to you. It’s your house too,” Sabo said, smiling kindly at you. You were still nibbling on your lip, making Sabo want to do the same. “You look tired, would you like to go to sleep?”

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes. Sabo knew you’d be tired since you drank 5 cups of the drugged water. He should tell Ace not to drink it, he thought, otherwise the lug would sleep even more than he already did. But that was tomorrow’s problem. 

“Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.” Sabo crossed the room and took you by the crook of your elbow before you could protest. Yes, it was 15 feet away, but Sabo wanted to touch you as much as he could. He guided you out of the office to your room. You poked your head in.

“There’s - there’s only one bed,” you sputtered. Sabo smiled, tightening his grip on your arm. 

________________________

@nymeriiiia

[auriidae]

hey check out this weird bug I found (made with 1 sticky note and a dream)

!!!!!!! WEIRD BUG SPOTTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[plasticsandwich]

also ive spent some time just figuring out other things to do than be online all the time

[seekingthestars]

sometimes i get the General Melancholies and i hate it a lot

[bootyful-seventeen]

hey y'all, anyone have any good stress relief tehniques or habits they'd like to share cuz I've been more stressed in the last 3 weeks then I was in the last 6 months

[mooshkat]

i fucking hate that my default reaction to feeling frustrated is to cry like bro you're ruining the vibe

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room — far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can’t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

[szasfuckingwife]

basketballer!Gojo who knew you from college. You often showed up to his games with your friend (who liked Suguru) and just, in the most uncreepy way possible , stare at him.

basketballer!Gojo who stayed in contact with you even when he went pro. The blinding lights of fame didn’t blur his deep attraction and fondness of you. Even on his least busiest day, which was still pretty busy, he made time for you.

‘Morning, my love…your smile lightens the world and my heart, love G.S’

You smile at the note that was amongst the several bouquets of red roses, your fave.

basketballer!Gojo who made sure he returned to you every night. Unlike his teammates, he wasn’t the type to go clubbing or anything similar. He was just a guy, obsessed with playing basketball and his girlfriend.

“Fuckin’ love you, Y/N…” He breathes into your ear. After a very deserved win, he made sure to let you know how much he appreciated your support. A string of whimpers left your mouth as his dick slid in and out of you. “Always so good for me, baby..”

basketballer!Gojo who, for some reason, gets a little jealous when you steal some of his spotlight. Maybe it was just an ego thing. He was fine at first when it came to you being called ‘WAG of the season’ after sporting some cute outfits. But then when magazines and publishers hit you up, something shifted.

It was no longer Satoru Gojo and his girlfriend. But now Y/N L/N and…what’s-his-face..?

basketballer!Gojo who you no longer recognised after a heated argument.

“You know, this is so predictable. I supported you since we were in college and the one time something good goes for me, you bitch and complain!”, you yell him, your index finger was firm against his chest. “It pisses me off, Gojo. I’m done.”

He scoffs, “I just think it’s too much. The red carpets and shit, I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get it because you’re used to me being just your stay at home girlfriend. Things change!” You release your own scoff to his response.

“Maybe I liked it that way because you had time for me-”

“But you never had time for me!”

basketballer!Gojo who has no comment to reporters when asked about the ‘break up rumours ‘with long term girlfriend, Y/N. But behind the scenes, he’s yearning for your forgiveness. He’s constantly at Suguru and your best friend’s house, hoping he’ll bump into you but you were never there.

it wasn’t until the season’s final where Satoru’s team were up against the undefeated (3 years in a row) champions. He was definitely shitting himself. As team captain, he was physically present, but not mentally.

But when he walked out and saw you in the crowd wearing his jersey, he suddenly felt calm. Were you attracting all the cameras? Yes. Were you dragging attention away from the game? At times, yes. But did he mind? No. For you were there for him. Even when you hated his guts.

basketballer!Gojo who fucks you like it’s his last night with you after his team won the finals. You can’t even remember how many times you’ve came but Satoru wasn’t gonna let you go.

“Toru-hnnnggghhh..! It’s too much!” You cry out real tears as he fucks up into you. He bites your shoulder, he wanted to be so close to you after so many separated nights.

“I’ve missed this body, I’ve missed you so much, baby. You have no clue…” He growls.

basketballer!Gojo who has the biggest grin on his face when paparazzi swarm him, asking about his engagement with Y/N. Truth be told, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he popped the question.

“Satoru, what’s next for you and Y/N?” A reporter asked.

“Babies. Lot’s of ‘em.” He smugly replies.

You’ll defo punish him for that comment.

[maiiuelle]

what if rafe and reader are more than friends but they didn’t really put a label on it and even top and kelce noticed but rafe still has the occasional hookup and one night when reader was js thinking abt stuff and then she realizes that shes inlove with rafe but when she came over to tannyhill to confess and rafe answered with his hair all messed up and him shirtless and he basically smelled like sex and when rafe asks why shes there she randomly just runs away and cries in her car while driving home so basically just angst (does that make sense idk)

you feel like your going crazy, standing at tannyhill’s front stoop twiddling your thumbs.

your relationship with rafe cameron is complicated; you’d almost call it a situationship, but you couldn’t put a label on it. you’d been going to all of his parties to serve as arm candy, posed with him at the golf course, and hooked up with him more than once. it’s beyond casual, but he has yet to pop the girlfriend question. even with his little commitment, you’d been finding it hard to keep your mind off of him — or rather, what the two of you had done together. you have to mean more to him than he’s letting on.

so, you knock on tannyhill’s giant glass front door again, biting your lip nervously as you look over the texts you’d already sent him to let him know you were coming.

“hey! just thinking ab u.. are u free tn? <3” you asked right after work, hopping in the shower in hopes you could head straight to his place after.

“busy. work shit. u free on friday?”

“oh idk. sucks we cant do tn, i miss u.” you followed your message with a picture of you sitting on your pink bedsheets, posing in the mirror to show off your silky pajamas. you thought he just needed a little convincing, but he didn’t respond.

“can u call me before bed? sorry, i know u said ur busy.”

by then it had been an hour or two, still no response from rafe. you were pacing around your room. all you wanted was to spend time with him, even if that meant lounging around while he works. anything would do, you just couldn’t stay away.

you came to the conclusion had to show him how much you care somehow, and what better way than to go to tannyhill and confess your love for him — it would be like a romance movie, he’d probably be exhausted from work and happy to see you by then!

“i’m sorry if this is sudden, i just feel like i really need to see you. i’ll just drop by for a second xoxo see u soon”

suddenly, the front door swings open, revealing a very disheveled rafe cameron. his bangs are a mess, sweaty and strewn across his forehead. his whole face is red, his lips swollen, and all he’s wearing are blue flannel pajama pants. you’d seen him like this before, pussy drunk and stumbling around a dark room. your heart deflates as he pushes open the front door, familiar blue eyes squinting at you through the night. “the fuck are you doing? you’re gonna wake up my fuckin’ dad.”

“work shit, huh? really, rafe?” you snap, looking him over completely disgusted. “what’re you d—”

“nah, nah. i told you i was busy — did i not?” he cuts you off, holding a finger in your face and grabbing your upper arm with the other hand, making you jump. “could’a kept yourself from all this if you just listened to me, right? right?” he jostles you, like he could shake a response out of you, but you’re frozen. he lets you go at the sight of your face, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “fuckin’ figures.”

“are you.. high?” you pull your knit cardigan tighter around your shoulders, tears already beginning to brim your waterline at the utter betrayal.

rafe recoils, acting overly offended to take the heat off his obvious cheating. “you’re gonna talk to me like that at my own goddamn house? do me a favor — go home, and i’ll think about callin’ you.”

“don’t bother. asshole.” you cry, turning away. the last glimmer of hope you have is snuffed out when you hear the glass door slam behind him, leaving you alone once again.

defeated, you retreat back to your car, wiping your tear stained cheeks pitifully. you should have known, rafe cameron is a player.

➺ do you…

⟡ hear out rafe’s apology

OR

⟡ tell jj what rafe did

[tbaluver]

The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: i might make a part two of this i just thought this was a cute idea in my drafts (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He is your weighted blanket whenever you need him. Literally and figuratively. When you sleep, he provides so much warmth. His head could be on your chest as he dozes off when you play with the locks of his hair. His arms would be around your body, occasionally pressing light kisses on your arms.

Your big baby. The warmth and softness of you and hearing the sound of your heartbeat soothes him. Therefore, he loves being the little spoon when cuddling despite the height difference between you two. He leans into your touch a lot so just hold him tight and run your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles his face into your chest.

He has the most confusing food combos he's cooked but you try them anyway. Sometimes it's not shocking to you that it's not your cup of tea so you decide it's best to just get take out instead or that you cook anyway. You both can cook your own plates at the same time in the kitchen or you'll help him cook what he wants even if the food combo is questionable so he doesn't burn the house down.

Will celebrate all of your achievements no matter how small. You were nervous about an exam? "Woot" Will be happy and proud that you got it over with and you'll both find something small or big to do to celebrate it

Cute date ideas would be stargazing or picnics in the park. Packing simple easy foods and treats while you both enjoy the scenery and afternoon. Or having a blanket out at the park while you watch the stars at night but he's looking at you.

Zayne:

The type to kiss you in bed every single night and when you both wake up. He'll kiss you on the lips, or the top of your head while he cups your cheek.

He'll always listen to your problems. He's an amazing listener and he gives logical advice as well as encouragement and praises depending on what the situation is.

He's a busy man but he tries to plan dates with you at least two or three times a week. If he has a busy schedule he'll make it up to you. Some dates include checking out new cafes to try new sweets or bakeries.

He's also a gentleman! He'll hold any door open whether it's a restaurant, yours or his home, or the car door, etc. He always tries to pick you up and drop you off. He'll also wait until your inside your home safely before leaving. He'll always stay on the dangerous side of the road or sidewalk whenever you both are walking together. With him you're never walking on the wrong side of the road whenever he's with you! If you were both in a busy area, he'll let you link your arms together, or intertwine your hands together, or he'll have his hand on your back so he knows your with him.

He'll make the effort to call you whenever he can. During his breaks from work, he'll call to see how you're doing. Or he'll call you at night to wish you a goodnight before he does an operation because he might not make it back home in time.

When he comes home late at night, he's cautious on handling your sleeping form because he does not want to wake up your peaceful sleep. He'll tuck your head in the crook of his neck, his chin resting on the top of your head before pulling up the covers over your body.

Rafayel:

You are his muse. He is so in love with you that you fill up his mind so most of his works would be inspired by you. He would have many sketchbooks filled with sketches of mostly just you and sometimes of you and him. The sketchbook is filled with your side profile, your eyes, your smile, your hands, any parts of you that he has adored for years. One time he planned on drawing the scenery of the beach but he decided to sketch you instead. Or there would be times where you're at a restaurant and he'll doodle you on a napkin. Or when you're both at the beach, he'll grab a stick and draw you on the beach.

Being in a relationship with him basically means you will always have a companion. He'll trail on you wherever you go like you literally cannot get rid of him. When you want to shower by yourself, he'll stay on the other side of the shower talking about anything. He just likes having you by his side. You can sit near him while he paints a new canvas and sometimes he'll ask you your opinions. He'll also want you to travel with him if he had to fly out for exhibitions.

Although he can be very playful and a tease, he'll do anything for you. You just have to ask him. He's wrapped around your finger.

He'll buy matching jewelry for the both of you and he'll buy any dresses or outfits that he thinks you would love or that would look gorgeous on you.

He also loves loves it when you give him words of affirmation. He loves hearing when you compliment him or tell him that you love him and he'll also love doing that to you as well.

Sylus:

He would reprogram Mephisto to like you and not squawk/ claw you. If he was far away from a business situation he would have Mephisto or Luke and Kieran keep you company. The twins will probably tell you any stories you want about Sylus. He'll also make calls or text you to update you on anything while he's far away.

On nights when he's not home, he'll intentionally leave some of his shirts out because he knows you sleep in his shirts as you drift off into sleep. He makes sure that they smell like 'him'.

Loves holding hands anytime he can with you. Or just loves having his hands on you. Always has his hand on your back or intertwined with yours or wrapped around your waist.

Makes time for you anytime he can. He'll literally just give you his card and follow you around while you shop. He's also the type of partner to buy you everything that you touch. If there's a time where you're upset about something that's sold out, he'll be searching for it and buying it overnight with the fastest delivery!

He'll also find your height difference funny. Sometimes he'll place his hand out on your head and tease you. Or sometimes he'll hold things above his head and find your expression funny because it's still impossible for you to reach.

[silentheiss]

It starts with Shang Qinghua, as many unpleasant things do.

“Come on, Cucumber-bro,” He whines, lying on Shen Qingqiu’s floor and eating Shen Qingqiu’s snacks. “Do you have to go? You promised you’d read my draft, remember?”

“I do.” Shen Qingqiu says. “And I will. Later. I promised I’d help Binghe with his hair before he has to leave for his trip today.”

“You gotta get all the way back to the demon realm just to do his hair before he leaves again?”

“Yes.”

“Aw, bro. I’m sorry.”

Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan shut. He doesn’t like his tone.

“Why?”

“What?” Shang Qinghua blinks up at him from his position on the floor.

“Why are you sorry?” Shen Qingqiu repeats, slowly.

“Well, because you have to interrupt your evening to placate my clingy son?”

Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure what exactly about Airplane’s wording bothers him so much, but he doesn’t let it stop his ire.

“You think I prefer your company to my husband’s?” He hisses. Shang Qinghua sits up abruptly.

“Oh, shit, bro.” He mumbles, sounding apologetic. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you love him and all.”

Does he? Not that Shen Qingqiu cares, of course, but- does he?

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it was hard to miss with all the rage comments and well, uh. Suicides?” Shang Qinghua laughs awkwardly and Shen Qingqiu opens his fan once again. “It’s just that I get that it must be hard for you to put up with his quirks sometimes?”

What quirks! Shen Qingqiu grips his fan tighter. Sure, Binghe can get a bit sticky and is prone to crying, but what’s so quirky about it? And who’s talking! As if Mobei-jun is a completely normal choice of a partner. Shen Qingqiu scoffs and moves to stand up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He snaps. “Binghe’s perfectly normal. I enjoy spending time with him.”

“Of course you do.” Shang Qinghua nods hurriedly, also scrambling up to his feet. “Don’t be mad, Cucumber-bro. I didn’t mean to offend you!”

Shen Qingqiu know that. He didn’t mean to offend him, no. He meant to commiserate. Because, apparently, he thinks Shen Qingqiu must be tired of Luo Binghe.

“I’m leaving.” He says and promptly turns around and walks out of his own house. Binghe wouldn’t like it that he left his martial uncle in bamboo house unsupervised, but it’s either that or beating Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu hasn’t yet formulated a reason inside his buzzing and spluttering mind for why he needs to do that.

Shen Qingqiu is still trying to understand what exactly about the conversation with Shang Qinghua addles him so much as he walks towards the designated meeting spot. Luo Binghe should be there soon to pick him up and take them both to the underground palace. When they last talked – just that night, in a shared dream – Luo Binghe asked if he could visit Shen Qingqiu in their bamboo house as he has some free time before he has to continue on his business, but Shen Qingqiu wanted to be alone with his husband for the short time that they would have, and he’s rarely left alone while on Qing Jing Peak.

“Shizun!” He hears, as almost reaches the stairs. He slows down, allowing Ning YingYing to catch up to him, but doesn’t stop completely. Binghe might already be waiting.

“What is it, YinYing?” He asks, smiling indulgently at his disciple.

“Why is Shizun leaving?” Ning YingYing pouts. “Didn’t he say that he’ll stay for a few days more?”

“Your Shizun will be back shortly.” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes, but his smile is still present. See, Airplane-bro? All his disciples are sticky! Luo Binghe is not worse than anyone else. Well, if only just a little. “This Shizun just has a meeting with your shidi.”

“Ah, A-Luo is back? When will this one get to see him?”

“Luo Binghe is very busy, so he won’t be coming to Qing Jing Peak just yet.” Shen Qingqiu says, stopping at the top of the stairs and looking downward. Binghe isn’t there yet.

“So he’s stealing Shizun all to himself?” Ning YingYing pouts again, but this time her eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Isn’t A-Luo the sweetest?”

And then it dawns on Shen Qingqiu. He quickly sends Ning YingYing back and starts his trip down the stairs, lost in thought. He’s taking Shizun all to himself. You have to interrupt your evening to placate my clingy son. They say it as if it wasn’t Shen Qingqiu who insisted on meeting somewhere else, so they could be alone. As if he didn’t insist on being interrupted whenever Luo Binghe had a minute to spare during his trip.

Because even if they know that Shen Qingqiu cares for Luo Binghe, they are certain that Luo Binghe cares for him more. More to the point of being annoying, even?

Shen Qingqiu sees red. He’s furious with Airplane, of course, because he started it, but most of all he’s furious at himself. Sure, he isn’t as shameless as his husband to declare his love left and right, but did he really let his cold and aloof facade lead people to believe that he is not madly in love with his husband?

Did he lead Luo Binghe to believe that, too?

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t notice the stairs end and almost stumbles, when his foot meets the ground sooner than he anticipated. A strong arm catches him around the waist.

“Shizun.” His husband breathes out and draws him closer, hugging him as if they’ve been apart for months instead of days. Shen Qingqiu is frozen in his arms.

That’s it, isn’t it? Luo Binghe never hesitates to show his feelings. But Shen Qingqiu’s thin face is not an indicator that he loves his husband less! It’s just that-

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe leans away, arms still circling his waist. His brow is furrowed, just a bit. Starry eyes are already watering from Shen Qingqiu's lack of response. How on earth could someone not love this man with their whole heart?

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu says, unable to hold the question back a moment longer. “Do you think you love me more than I love you?”

Luo Binghe’s arms drop. He takes a stumbling step back. His perfect, beautiful face freezes completely, not showing a single emotion. A second later tears start rolling down his cheeks.

“Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu takes his husband’s hand and squeezes lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Shizun said-” Binghe chokes, still looking at him without as much as blinking. “He said he loves…?”

Then, the dam breaks and Luo Binghe starts sobbing in earnest. Shit. Has he ever said the L word before? Shen Qingqiu swears on his own grave – on all of his graves – to never let the shame overtake him again.

“So, you do?” He asks, heartbroken and ashamed. He truly is an abominable husband.

“I do!” Binghe cries. “Of course I do. How can there be a love greater than my love for Shizin?”

How? Shen Qingqiu would love for Luo Binghe to see his old room right now. That’d show him how.

“What about my love, huh?” He snaps, fighting an urge to stomp his foot. “Why can’t it be greater?”

Binghe must realize his mistake. He hastily wipes his face and shakes his head.

“Of course this one knows Shizun cares for him! Shizun’s shown this one so much kindness, has been so generous, and-”

“No!” Shen Qingqiu feels his cheeks grow hot. “I don’t just care for you. I love you. I love my husband.”

Luo Binghe stares at him and doesn’t say anything for a very long time.

“Shizun?” He says, finally. “Did you happen to come across any interesting plants recently?”

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“I’m not under any influence!” Shen Qingqiu huffs.

“Do you mind if I…?”

“Go for it.”

A second later Shen Qingqiu feels the blood parasites start fretting. It’s not the most pleasant feeling, but if it’ll make his husband stop humiliating him, he’ll take it happily.

“Shizun is healthy.” Luo Binghe says dumbly. “But then why would he say that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Shen Qingqiu cries. “Why is it so hard to believe? Why do everybody, including my own husband, keep suggesting that I don’t feel as strongly about Binghe as Binghe does about me?”

“Did Liu Qingge say something?” Luo Binghe asks, eyes narrowing.

“No!” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “But I’m sure he would, if he had a chance. Because apparently, I don’t look in love!”

Luo Binghe’s face is quite red, Shen Qingqiu notices.

“But they’ll see.” He continues. “Ang you! You’ll see too, Binghe.”

“I’ll see?”

“Yes.” Shen Qingqiu nods decidedly. He knows how to fanboy, okay? Binghe’s cooking and fretting and gift lavishing won’t stand a chance against Shen Qingqiu’s skill. “Take me home this instant. I have posters to paint.”

“Posters?”

“Now, Binghe!”

Luo Binghe squeaks and reaches for Xin Mo. Shen Qingqiu jumps through the portal before it even fully opens.

[targaryen-dynasty]

A LITTLE PREDICAMENT.

Aemond Targaryen x female!Targaryen!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

While you share little sympathy with any of the people present, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there certainly is one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (reader is the granddaughter of Saera Targaryen), threesome, p in v, oral (m receiving), semi public sex, voyeurism, high valyrian, reader has silver hair and lilac eyes

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: I finally put my thoughts of this scene into words! Enjoy! Thanks to @sylasthegrim and @zaldritzosrose 🤍

The stench of sweat and wine alike fills the brothel, following you as you roam through the crowd of patrons and whores, pushing past the several curtains that separate the lounging chambers from the more… private areas. 

Is that what your grandmother had in mind when she sent you away to learn more about your Targaryen heritage? You highly doubt it, but the madam, Sylvi or so you have learnt, does everything in her power to make your stay as pleasant as possible. Perhaps that is just because she owes your side of the family something neither women dare tell you, yet you care too little to delve deeper into the topic. 

Saera Targaryen has grown frail over the years, approaching the age at which the Stranger had taken her own mother back in 100AC, and rests on her laurels she’s earned herself over the years working in the pleasure gardens of Lys before she eventually built her own kingdom in form of a pleasure house in Volantis. 

Therefore it definitely is not a surprise you’ve taken after her. Partly, at least, because although you wander through a brothel, your long, silver curls and lilac eyes catching the attention of several men around, it has always been up to you to decide if you grant them your attention or not – the earned, well-deserved respect and reputation of your grandmother clearly coming in handy. 

You balance a tray with a chalice full of wine and two goblets on your hand as you prowl through the busy rooms, even though getting drunk is not what most men come here for. There is nothing out of the ordinary taking place – until a flash of silver hair comes into your vision. 

You have grown used to the presence of the late king’s second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen, by now, visiting the brothel almost every night to seek comfort in the arms of Sylvi. And since tonight was no different, you’re certain the brothel has been granted the presence of not one but two Targaryen men at once; the newly crowned king donning an attire no commoner could ever afford. 

Blending in with your surroundings never was too difficult, not when everyone was occupied anyways. You place the tray aside and cling to the walls and curtains as you follow him and his entourage, trying your hardest to make out what they say while not getting caught. 

But even before you can fully process the bits of information you’ve gathered, Aegon starts to pull aside one curtain after the other, revealing the private quarters for the well-paying patrons. While most of them do not care, that much can not be said about the patron within the third room. 

Where you haven’t heard his voice before, his howling laughter all but bounces off the walls. “Aemond the fierce,” he mocks in between laughter, pointing at his younger brother. “You have come so far, and yet you still lie with your very first.”

With Aegon stepping towards the settee, an embarrassed Aemond comes into view, and while you share little sympathy with any of them, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there’s one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire. 

In a quick act, you slip out of the flimsy piece of Lysene silk that hugs your curves, baring yourself completely. You swallow thickly as you make your way toward the room, striding past the king’s men and into it. 

“Nyke gōntan daor nūmāzma naejot mazverdagon ao umbagon, ñuha dārilaros,” you say, clearly talking to Aemond. Your voice is smooth, despite the slight Lyseni accent weaving itself through it. I did not mean to make you wait, my prince. 

The prince is clearly dumbfounded, but not as much as the king whose laughter has suddenly died off again, the cocked eyebrow indicating that he’s just as surprised as his younger brother is. None of the people involved speak, yet curiosity is written all over their features. 

“My… My apologies for letting you wait, Prince Aemond.” Your eyes flit over to Sylvi, a meek smile on your lips. “Thank you for keeping him occupied while I tended to another patron, madam.” She gives you a soft smile, one that a mother gives, and nods to you before she leaves the room – figuring your intentions. 

You walk around Aemond, softly grazing your fingertips over his shoulder as you come to stop in front of him. From where you stand, you can see Aegon sitting up a little straighter, curiosity and lechery alike flickering in his eyes.  

“Have you found a new whore, brother? Do you fuck her like a hound? Woof!” Aegon mocks, his eyes dragging over your naked frame. 

While the prince clearly is surprised by your actions, there’s also some sense of vulnerability still surrounding him, making him shun away from the encounter. 

Raising a brow, you tilt your head down to look at Aemond who’s not meeting your gaze. “My apologies, my prince, but have I known that His Grace intended to join us tonight, I would have prepared… finer quarters for us.” It’s a bold statement, you know that, one that allows Aemond to take charge in this conversation, to save himself from any more embarrassment. 

And much to your surprise, that finally stirs something in him. 

Aemond tilts his head, meeting your eyes, before he turns slightly to look at Aegon. One of his large hands clasps around your wrist, effortlessly pulling you on the settee right next to him. There might be a hint of protectiveness and jealousy coming over him, having no desire to let his brother take advantage of you now, but it’s also the want to consolidate and prove his superiority, that he’s not the failure his brother makes out of him. He has looked more like a wounded dog rather than the fierce dragon prince he is when Aegon has caught him with Sylvi, but that is no more.

“Oh, this is completely sufficient for His Grace. Besides, we do not mind the company, do we?” Aemond asks you now, trailing his hand over the curve of your waist. “The more the merrier.”

The proximity and his touch causes a shiver to run down your spine, and for a moment it’s you being at a loss of words. You lean into his touch, an amused smile on your lips as you look over to Aegon. “Are you sure that is what you want, my prince?” you ask in a low whisper that’s only for Aemond to hear. “I am certain there would be another woman gladly taking care of His Grace…” you speak louder now, gaze flitting over to the king’s dumbfounded entourage, silently watching the exchange. “... or rather his squire.”

But the king wouldn’t be a Targaryen, if he didn’t enjoy a challenge every now and then. 

His lips curve into a wide smirk, almost smug, as he flicks his hand to dismiss his following. “Ah, it seems you have found yourself a feisty one, brother,” he notes. “I wouldn’t mind being entertained by both of you at once,” he suggests, the smirk growing even wider. “It would be a shame not to share such beauty with your own blood, would it not?”

You feel Aemond’s grip on your waist tighten, squeezing your flesh almost painfully harsh. “Very well,” he agrees, his jaw clenching almost as if he’s biting down the words. “You may stay and watch if that’s what you desire so much, Your Grace, but you will not touch her.”

The elder raises his hands in feigned surrender, chuckling. “Of course, I won’t, brother,” he assures in a sarcastic tone. “I shall only watch the delightful performance you two are about to put on for me. And it will be my turn to join when she begs for me to finish what you can not.”

“Save your breath,” he spits. “You will not hear such words leave her lips. I guarantee it.”

Sensing the tension growing between the brothers, both very clearly sharing the hot blood of the dragon, you know it’s your time to de-escalate the situation before it goes any more wrong and ruins your chances of retrieving the desired information. 

You gently place a hand on Aemond’s chest, your fingers tracing a soothing pattern, and flash him a reassuring smile. Only once you notice his tensed muscles easing very slightly do you turn to Aegon, smile widening as you speak in a sultry tone. 

“Now, my king, do not get ahead of yourself,” you say. “You first ought to see what your brother is capable of. But I assure you, you do not have to worry about me being unsatisfied.”

The prince’s annoyance at his brother momentarily vanishes with your gentle touch and words, the possessive heat he feels only fueled by it. His hand moves up from your waist, gently wrapping around the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his. “Indeed,” he agrees with a smirk. “You best watch and learn, Aegon. I shall be generous enough to give you a show worth watching.”

With his warm breath fanning over your lips and his intense gaze all but burning into yours as he speaks, you feel yourself unable to wait any longer for something that initially was not what you wanted, acting before thinking and pressing your lips to his for a heated kiss. 

A sense of urgency weaves itself through his movements when both his hands clasp around your waist, pulling you right into his lap without breaking the kiss once. He is hard and heavy beneath you, nestled tightly between your soaked and swollen folds. You subconsciously start to grind against him, sliding back and forth and coating him in your essence. 

Aemond’s soft grunts and groans rumble in his chest and you swallow them greedily. Your hands entangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tilt your head back to whimper against his lips the moment the tip of his cock rubs against your pearl. 

You have all but forgotten that it’s not just the two of you in this private space, at least until Aegon’s heavy breaths ring in your ears. But you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not because you’re embarrassed by the current predicament you’ve found yourself in, but because Aemond seizes all of your attention by lifting your hips to align his hard cock with your entrance. 

A shuddered breath slips past your lips at the feeling of his cock slowly stretching you open as you sink down, his grip on your hip growing harsher with the tight embrace of your wet and warm cunt. 

Once you’re fully seated, his grip urges your hips back and forth, not giving you a moment to adjust to his size and the painful sting of accommodating his girth. The tip of his cock brushes your sweet spot with every movement, coaxing one sweet sound of pleasure after the other from your lips already. 

You dare looking at Aegon sitting on the settee with you, albeit not longer than a few seconds, and while you notice his gaze neatly fixed on you and his brother with a smirk remaining on his lips, you also see that the sense of mockery in his eyes slowly starts to fade away to something entirely different.

Quickly averting your gaze, you focus on Aemond, leaning over him to brace yourself with your arms slung around his neck. Your walls clench around his solid weight inside of you as they start to move faster, the grinding becoming more determined and purposeful. 

It’s the quiet, strained ‘fuck’ the prince beneath you releases with his head tipped back that causes a surge of boldness and confidence to soar through you, tearing your gaze off of him to lock it with the king’s. Flitting down, your glossy eyes fall to his hand rubbing and squeezing his hard cock through his black breeches at the sight of you mounting his brother like he mounts his beloved dragon. 

With his back facing him, Aemond does not seem to have a clue about what his brother is doing, yet you’re not quite sure if he even cares about it or his presence in general. If anything, it could be counted as the validation he’s come to crave. 

Blissful moans start to pour from you as you finally find the most pleasing rhythm, the tips of your fingers burying themselves into the plane of Aemond’s broad, muscular shoulders. He barely hisses at the pain, too occupied dragging his nose along the curve of your neck and shoulders to your tits, before one perky bud is immediately embraced by his lips. 

You continue grinding down on him, sucking his hard member in with each movement, sobs and moans of pleasure steadily streaming out of your mouth. It’s the gentle nips of his teeth that make your eyes squeeze shut in delight, the fire inside of you causing you to tear your eyes off Aegon. 

The angle in which you grind your hips down on his allows you to rub your pearl against the base of his cock, the wispy, silver hair at it dragging against it enough to slowly tighten the knot inside of you. 

But much to your surprise, the pace and rhythm doesn’t seem to be sufficient enough for Aemond, despite the grunts and groans that rumble in his chest, and you soon enough find yourself ripped away from the growing pressure inside of you, flipped over to lie flat on your belly, facing Aegon now and looking up at him with wide eyes. 

You hardly have time to catch a glimpse of Aemond from over your shoulder before he positions himself between your parted thighs, forcing his cock inside of you in one, swift thrust that knocks the air straight from your lungs. You scramble for anything to hold onto to keep yourself grounded, knuckles turning white from how tightly you're fisting the sheets. 

His upper body slightly bends forwards and towers over yours as he rests one hand at your shoulder and the other at your hip. The pace of his thrusts is nothing short of ruthless, and he uses the grip he has to pull you back onto his cock for your bodies to meet halfway, the most obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin perfectly audible, hardly drowned out by Aegon’s grunts and groans. 

“Are you enjoying the show, Your Grace?” Aemond suddenly rasps between heavy breaths, voice laced with a hint of mockery and challenge. “Perhaps even learning something useful about how to pleasure a woman?”

You spot Aegon’s gaze darkening slightly at his brother’s words, clearly trying to hold back any sarcastic remarks that tingle in the back of his throat. “Oh, I am enjoying this very much,” he replies, voice strained. “But I do not need any lessons from you. I know my way around a woman’s body just fine.”

Aemond huffs, and although annoyance sparks within him, he masks it well behind a smug smirk and a low chuckle. His hands grip your flesh tightly, surely leaving some bruises the following days. 

“Oh, truly?” Aemond says sarcastically. “Then perhaps you would like to indulge us and demonstrate your skills, hm?” 

No matter how hazy and clouded your mind has grown by the reckless pounding of Aemond, it turns crystal clear the second you fully process his words. Aegon seems just as dumbfounded by the offer as you are, yet he’s quicker to speak and act.

Rising from his position on the settee, he lets out a low chuckle. “Well, I’ll play along,” he rasps, already undoing the laces in the front of his breeches. “I shall certainly not decline this invitation.”

He pulls them down enough to free his cock, hard and standing to full attention. You swallow thickly at the sight, and clench down harshly around Aemond which makes him choke on a groan. 

Aegon walks up to your side as if he means to drive his brother away to take his place, but Aemond merely scoffs at that, and serves a harsh slap to your arse that makes you squirm and whine. “You may use her mouth, and her mouth only,” he clarifies, tone firm. “She is mine, and I shall not let you claim more of that.”

Cocking an eyebrow at his words, Aegon raises his hands in surrender. “Very well, then,” he replies, climbing onto the settee. Not a moment is wasted by him once he’s settled in front of you to tap your lips with the tip of his cock, silently commanding you to part them for him.

But you don’t allow him to slip past your lips right away, and instead drag your tongue over the tip, following the small slit and gathering some of his arousal before you trace it along the vein on the underside of his cock. He’s all but purring at that already, your little performance riling him up to the point he’s just desperate for relief. 

Aemond’s stones are heavy and the pouch they sit in is slightly slagged, hitting your pearl perfectly each time he snaps his hips into yours and fills you to the brim, sending shivers up your spine. It only makes your desire to have Aegon’s cock in your mouth more adamant, and eventually you stop your teasing and take him inside. 

While you’re propped up on both your elbows, you wrap your hand around the bit of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, moving it along in rhythm with the bobbing of your head. 

Each one of Aemond’s thrusts pushes you toward Aegon, forcing him deeper down your throat as if you aren’t struggling already. “That’s it,” Aemond grunts, voice strained, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, caught in your throat and muffled by Aegon’s cock. “Such a damn good girl for us.”

Aegon is generous enough to pull back completely every once and then, allowing your lungs to fill with air before he sinks back into the warmth of your mouth again. You bring one hand up to rest on his thigh as a means to slow his pace and force, but his desire is getting the worst of him. 

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips, down your chin and throat with how fast he pushes into you, meeting his cock halfway with the force of Aemond’s thrusts. The lewd sounds of their soaked cocks sliding in and out of your holes fill the room, hardly drowned out by their bawdy grunts and groans and words of praise.

You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue flat to the underside of Aegon’s cock, allowing him to claim your mouth however he pleases, the added stimulation causing him to choke on a gasp. He trusts frantically into your mouth at this point, and you know he’s close already with how he throbs on your tongue.

Aemond forces his hips into yours with such determination, he is close to shoving you up against his brother with the force of his need, your arms almost buckling under the weight he puts onto you. You can tell he’s racing for completion, effectively pulling you with him in the process. 

With the pace of his hips not faltering once, your peak washes over you in an ambush. The pleasure in your body gets intense enough for your legs and arms to tremble, his hand that rests at your neck trailing down to seize your hip to support you. Your walls clench around his cock tight enough for him to draw in a sharp breath, but the assault on your cunt doesn’t cease. 

Yet he’s not the first man to surrender to the pleasure. Despite your struggles to please him accordingly, Aegon’s peak follows closely behind yours, ripped from him by the reckless pace his brother has set up. 

“By the Sev–” he heaves, interrupted by a strained groan. 

It might have been the tight embrace of your cunt around his cock, or the sight of you eagerly swallowing every drop of his brother’s seed, but not long after his throbbing cock spends itself deep inside of your quivering walls, causing you to roll your hips against his to prolong his peak. 

His hands trail up and down your sides in pure bliss, and when it’s all over, he releases a sigh of relief, almost as if some sort of pressure has been taken off of his shoulders. 

But you don’t get the chance to relinquish it for too long, both men pulling out of you at once. Aemond’s almost comforting grip on your body leaves far too quickly, prompting you to topple onto your side. 

Your wide eyes flicker between them, and while Aegon is busy tucking himself back into his breeches, not caring about you and your overall presence, Aemond has a somewhat suspicious glint flickering in his eye. 

Even if he’s aware of your antics, it’s now or never, for you certainly won’t be welcomed around him again after the brazen takeover – it was not what he requested after all. 

Putting on a confident front, you roll onto your belly, propping yourself up on your forearms and dangling your feet in the air. 

“Now, I believe you both owe me something,” you start, keeping your eyes locked on Aemond. He’s of more importance to you despite his brother being the king, solely based on the rumors you’ve heard. “A reward for my services, if you will.”

They exchange a glance and scoff, both of them clearly surprised by your audacity. “You will receive your coins on the morrow,” the elder states, shrugging his shoulders before turning towards the exit.

“‘Tis not coins I want,” you retort with a shake of your head. 

Aemond’s still completely bare as he speaks, standing in the room with his newfound confidence. “And what exactly is it you desire, hm?” His tone is slightly derogatory, subtly remembering you of your place – making clear that you’re in no position to desire anything at all.

You know he’s not asking because he wants to fulfill your wish, but rather because he’s just curious to learn what else you could possibly want from them, and it seems to be the same for his older brother for he’s turned around to look at you again. 

“What I desire is the chance to learn more about my heritage,” you reply, gaze scanning both men. “I have only just recently come to Westeros to learn more about the mighty House Targaryen, although my grandmother has told me several stories. But I want to hear it from those with first-hand experience, and I do not think there is someone better to help me with that than you.”

Aemond’s eye narrows in suspicion. “And who might your grandmother be exactly?”

“Princess Saera Targaryen.”

While Aegon releases a scoff of disbelief, Aemond’s eye widens in surprise. “The Saera who left Westeros and disgraced our family name?” 

The weight of your grandmother’s reputation is heavy to bear, and you struggle to acknowledge this part of it. “Yes, I am her granddaughter. And I understand the disdain many might have for her, however, all I know is that she left Westeros and lived her life in Essos, never to return. I am merely curious about my family, and hoped that you, as the sons of the late King Viserys, would have the knowledge I seek.”

Aegon laughs out loudly, but this time you’re the one at the end of his humiliation and mockery. Averting your eyes to the ground, you press your lips into a thin line. There is unease in both their faces, and you figure that you probably won’t get the answers you desire from them anytime soon.

“I… well… it seems that you are not quite yet willing to share your knowledge,” you say, quieter, before rising from the settee. You walk towards the curtains, pushing them aside to make your exit, and continue without looking at them, hesitating to truly leave them. “Do not worry, I shall not trouble you any further. Perhaps I ought to seek answers in Dragonstone, then.” 

The glance they exchange goes unnoticed by you, but soon enough you feel Aegon’s sturdy chest press against your back and his heavy breath fan over your bare, sweat-covered skin. “Ah, no need to rush off so quickly,” he says, planting a hand on your waist. “I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss us just yet. Maybe we’re just a bit hesitant to open up. Perhaps a little persuasion on your part might… convince us.”

You feign a sigh, pretending to be reluctant but secretly enjoying the attention. “I am all for persuasion, Your Grace,” you say, your voice sultry. “But I believe I should be rewarded first… at least a little. After all, my services have proven to be quite delightful, have they not? And I do not plan to persuade you for free.”

Spinning on your heels, there is little space between you and Aegon. But you don’t budge, not when you’ve your mind set on it. 

“You are quite demanding, aren’t you, my dear?” Aegon asks, his voice deep. It’s clear he’s amused by your bluntness, judged by the smirk draped across his features, yet he’s also enticed by the prospect of sharing you with his brother for a second time. “But if that’s what it takes. What kind of reward do you desire, then?”

And so it happens that, after they have given you bits of information about House Targaryen that have not made it into the history books, you find yourself entangled in the sheets again, a mess of limbs and sweat and promises to give you answers to everything your heart desires. 

Aemond Taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu

@legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @decaffeinatedparadisepost

@mfedits @luvdella @jays-bullshit @justarandomgal @gelacat0413

Aegon II Taglist: @dr-aegon @palmer-hjp

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: The rain ruining his plans might have been the best possible luck.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“It’s raining.” You point out, face nearly pressing on the window as you stare outside. It was going to happen sooner or later, the dark clouds had been adorning the sky the entire day, yet the day went dry.

“Raining?” Zayne sounds surprised, as if he hadn’t been staring at the same dark sky a couple of hours earlier. He stands up, walking over to look out the window as if he didn’t trust your word. You swear you hear him sigh when he confirms that it’s indeed raining.

“Is everything okay? Is our date still on?” You look at him, worried about his reaction. He wants to say that the rain will be over in ten minutes and the plans are still on… But it doesn’t look like it’ll stop any time soon. 

“The rain is going to make things more… Difficult.” Zayne answers, not wanting to give up on the date idea just yet. There is no hope though, you can’t go stargazing when it’s storming out. You stare at him, trying to study the look on his face– A task that’s difficult since the man does a great job at suppressing any trace of emotion. “Maybe we have to change a couple of things.”

From now on he will leave the dates to you and only you, because the one time he plans something it’s ruined before it even begins. It’s what he gets for trying to be romantic, there’s a reason you’re the one that usually takes on the role. 

“Like?” You ask, and he isn’t sure how to answer. He already had everything planned out, and he put his all to the specific date so now his brain is empty. The lack of answer makes you chuckle. “So we’re staying in?”

“Unless I get a reservation in time.” Zayne reaches for his phone to look up restaurants nearby, trying to salvage the night but you snatch the device from his hands. He raises his brows, wondering what you have in mind.

“Let’s stay in. We can cook something, play a couple of games… Other stuff.” You respond, and Zayne fights back a smile. It’s great to have someone pick up his slack. “I found this new recipe that I’ve been dying to try.”

“Tell me what you need, and I’m on it.” He says, and you can’t help but smile. He’s willing to do anything when you have his attention. 

“I think we have everything, I just need you to chop up some stuff.” You tell him, and he nods in response. He’s not a great cook since he barely has the time or energy to make his own meals, but at the very least he’s great at chopping up stuff. “You can be my sous chef.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There’s a subtle smile on his lips, and it overflows your heart with joy when you notice it. You wonder why he smiles but it’s never unwelcome. Especially from him.

You kiss his cheek before telling him, “Let’s get to work.”

After nearly burning the house down trying the new recipe, you surprisingly end up with a delicious meal on your table. You’re enjoying your meal, too busy stuffing your face to keep up a proper conversation. You don’t need to talk either way, each other’s presence is enough to satisfy any need for interaction. Though Zayne can’t help but comment,

“Surprisingly it doesn’t taste burnt.” Which makes you roll your eyes. He can’t help but bring it up when you told him a million times that you had it under wraps. 

“I told you I had it handled.” You respond. “Or do you not have faith in me, Dr. Zayne?”

“Dr. Zayne?” He raises a brow, and you hum in response. He lets out a low laugh before answering, “I do have faith in you… But I am allowed to draw some conclusions when I see a flame coming from the pan.”

“That wasn’t a flame.” You argue, and he slightly shakes his head.

“Then why did the fire alarm go off?” He points out, and you puff out a breath. You cross your arms, your appetite gone because your boyfriend won’t allow you to have the last word. He never does, and it might be his only defect. He couldn’t be perfect. 

“Next time I’m leaving the cooking to you then.” You pout. He doesn’t want you to feel bad for the light fire, it could happen to anyone plus you were cooking a new recipe.

“You’re a far better cook than I am.” He responds, hoping that it’ll make you feel better. He’s staring at you, trying to decipher what you feel based on the expression on your face. You only stick out your bottom lip, clearly not happy with what he’s said.

What did he say wrong? He said all the right words, you should be gleaming not… Looking disappointed.

“Only because you don’t have time to pick up the skill, if you did then you would be saying something far much different.” You end up telling him, and he takes a moment to look at your face. He’s not sure how to answer. He ends up by telling the truth,

“Probably.” And the moment the word leaves his lips, he realizes he couldn’t have picked a worse answer. You look absolutely mortified, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Probably? You’re not supposed to say that.” You say, and he gives you a subtle nod. He’s not supposed to tell you the truth then.

“What am I supposed to say then?” He sounds ever so serious, and one swift look at his face makes you think that he is, indeed, serious. 

“No, I doubt it. You’re the best cook ever, dear.” You end up answering, almost laughing at your own response. You see a twinge of a smirk on his face, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something. He lets himself loose around you, and often laughs at any stupid joke that you make, but it still feels rare when you actually see him smile.

“Alright then, so not the truth. Simple.” He answers, and the smirk that comes to his lips doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually does. You puff out a breath and he says, “Repeat the statement.”

“No.” Your answer is firm, therefore he won’t bug you to do it. He’ll drop the subject. 

You two continue eating, and for once he’s the one that makes most of the conversation. He should apologize, he should’ve chosen better words. 

“If it makes you feel better, the one time I plan a date… It starts to rain.” Zayne hopes that by admitting his own failures, he’ll make you feel better. You can’t help but chuckle.

“That doesn’t mean that you suck, it just means that the weather isn’t on your side.” You reassure him, face turning to look out the window. The rain still falls, much harder than before. “Plus I’m enjoying the date. Well, I was before you–”

“In my defense, I was initially complimenting the dish.” He argues, and you can’t help but laugh. A petty argument from a compliment. Though you’d argue that it was backhanded, Zayne isn’t all that great with words– Unless it’s with him coming up with a witty comeback, or of course, explaining medical terminology.

“How about you start cleaning up while I look for a game we can play?” You change the topic as you finish up your meal. Zayne immediately nods, more than willing to fulfill the task that you’ve assigned. He begins to clear the table, and you stand up to look for the games that are hidden away. Games that you’ve gotten to play with him but you’ve never had the time to actually sit down together and figure out.

You look for something that’ll make the night more fun, and also something that you have yet to play… But you still land on an old game. Something that gets both of you competitive. You end up pulling an old game that you’ve played a dozen times with him. A game that makes you want to break up with him, but when you make up it’s a memorable night.

You set up the table with the game, and wait for Zayne to finish up in the kitchen. You’d offer to help if he was doing any other task, but you aren’t going out of your way to clean up, even if it is to help your amazing boyfriend. Maybe you can take a peek at the cards as you wait for him to come back to the table.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Zayne walks back to the table, grabbing the cards that you definitely didn’t take a quick look at, and shuffling them. “Who’s going first?”

“I am. I don’t trust you while playing kitty cards.” You respond, and he hands out two cards. You frown as you look at them, knowing that you’re starting off on a bad foot. Your assist cards can help you make a comeback, so you’re only praying you get lucky with that.

“I should be the one saying that, I saw you look at the cards.” He lets out a low laugh as he gives himself three cards. He takes a seat across from you before commenting, “Given by the look on your face, you didn’t get all that lucky.”

“I’m going to win. Mark my words.”

Though you’re as competitive as you can be, luck simply isn’t on your side. Zayne doesn’t help your case, using every card that he has, against your favor. You glare at him with every move he takes, and he smirks, proud of his every move.

“Can you leave me alone? I barely have any points, there’s no point for you to null my card.” You complain, and Zayne shakes his head. 

“I have to take every possible precaution.” He answers, putting down a card that takes away your turn– And if that isn’t horrible enough, he takes away one of the kitty cards that you’ve put down. “Last time you won, I heard about it for weeks.”

“Last time I lost, you also heard about it for weeks. Matter of fact, we almost broke up.” You point out, and you watch as the corner of his lips turn. He’s trying his best to fight back a smile, and you have to roll your eyes. “And if you keep up with your act, we might actually break up.”

“It’s just a game of kitty cards.” Zayne says, which makes you glare at him. You cross your arms, a scoff leaving your lips. Just a game of kitty cards? The game becomes a very serious matter when you’re as competitive as you are.

“If you don’t take it seriously, then you should let me win.” You claim, and Zayne knows that unless he stops playing, your date will completely go sour. He just fixed matters after his unnecessary comment, he can’t let himself nearly ruin the date once again. He could try to let you win, but at this point there’s no way you can make a comeback. Plus, it’s not satisfactory for him.

“How about we stop.” He suggests, and you know you can’t win.

“Fine.” You answer, a hint of attitude in your voice just so he notes that you’re not happy with him.  

“What were we going to do today?” You ask him, beginning to clear the table. The sight of the unfair game is keeping you mad, so it’s best to clean up. Zayne joins you.

“Stargazing.” He responds, which perks up your eyebrows. Where exactly? “It’s a place not too far from here that gives a perfect view of the city, and I thought it’d be a nice date. I bought a couple of snacks to have a late picnic, but the universe isn’t on my side.”

“That is such a cute date!” You comment, eyes looking out the window to see that the rain has calmed down. “We can still do it.”

Zayne looks in the same direction. It’s not what he pictured, but it’s not a bad idea.

“Just for a minute.” He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours before he guides you outside. Your anger is long forgotten when you feel his large hand lightly squeezing your own. There’s still some light rain when you exit the place, but you aren’t staying outside for too long so it’s not an issue.

“Look, there’s a full moon.” You immediately point to the sky. The clouds had been hiding the moon all night, and now you finally get a chance to glance at it. “Just look at it, it’s so beautiful.”

“It really is beautiful.” He answers, though his eyes aren’t looking at the moon. His thumb traces lazy circles on the back of your hand, as he finally looks up at the sky. Stargazing is a dumb date if you aren’t going to the countryside. In a way, he’s glad his plans were ruined. 

You look back at Zayne, a foolish smile coming to your lips. Stargazing would’ve been nice, even if you don’t get a great sight, laying next to him for a whole night is the type of date that you need. You don’t even need to talk, each other’s presence is more than enough for you to be satisfied.

“Why are you smiling?” He finally looks back at you. It’s not a complaint, he’s overjoyed to find you smiling. He just wonders what’s going on in your mind. Two fingers come up to his face, brushing away the hair that’s on his forehead before you get on your tip-toes to press a kiss on it.

“You are so cute.” You tell him, and he chuckles. Out of all words that you could’ve picked, cute is the one that he least expected.

“Cute?” He responds, and you hum in response. Nevertheless, it’s a compliment so he’ll accept it. He smiles back at you, gaze getting lost into your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, maybe that’s the reason he’s so desperately in love with you. “Cute. I’ll take it.”

“Let’s go inside before you get sick.” There’s a mischievous smile on your lips as you say the words. He’s the one that usually says the phrase, but the tables have turned. Zayne lets go of your hand, hands falling on your waist before pulling you closer.

“Let’s enjoy the moment a little longer, I don’t mind getting sick.” His nose brushes against yours, his eyes looking into yours ever so lovingly. His supple lips land on yours, pulling away within seconds. “It’s barely even raining.”

“Just a minute then.” You tell him, and he nods in response. However, Zayne doesn’t care to look at the sky. Apart from the full moon, there’s nothing that’s worth noting.

He loves the feeling of the rain on his skin, every droplet is a subtle reminder that this is real. He’s living in the moment. What’s happening right now is not a fragment of his imagination. The way you look at him, the way you laugh, the way your hands wrap behind his neck– It’s all real.

“Okay, we should go now. I don’t want you to get sick… And I also don’t want to get sick.” You say, and he smiles. He lets go of you, allowing you to go inside without an issue. You’re not going inside without him though. You grab Zayne’s hand and drag him inside, knowing that if he gets sick, you’ll end up getting sick as well.

“I’m going to get changed.” You tell him, and he mindlessly follows. He’s seen you naked many times, there’s no need to be shy… Except he is the one that gets shy at the mere thought of seeing you naked. He’s already flustered at the idea of you getting changed; but he still follows.

“What do you want to do now? Watch a movie?” You ask him, getting to the room. There’s a sudden increase in temperature– Or is it just Zayne? Why does he feel hot?

“A movie… Sounds fun.” He swallows thickly, watching as you begin to lift up your shirt. His cheeks turn pink at the sight of some skin, but you never take off your shirt. You notice he’s staring, and you fight back on smirking. 

“Do you have something else in mind?” You watch him step towards you, ever so slowly. He’s hesitating. Should he? He doesn’t want to turn the sweet night into something… More. But he does.

He wants to feel every inch of you, and frankly, the shirt that you have on outlines everything which doesn’t really help. Maybe he’s a pervert for the thoughts that creep into his head, but it’s hard to think differently when you look like this right before him.

Before you know it, Zayne’s lips land on yours, tongue exploring your mouth before it finds your own. His tongue presses against yours while his hands desperately try to take off the damp clothes that cover your body. Very skilled hands struggle, nerves overtaking him at the thought of feeling your body. An action he’s done many times before, but he turns into putty each and every time.

You’re not as nervous though, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it without an issue. Your hands go into his boxers, feeling him up which makes the man pathetically whimper into your kiss. He can come undone from a single move. And even when your hands are wrapped around his cock, he’s too nervous to touch under your shirt.  

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until you pull far enough that the bond breaks. You take off your shirt, and Zayne is watching you as if he were a teenager all over again. Cheeks burn red at the sight of some skin, it’s truly pathetic. It’s not just some skin though, you’re getting completely undressed in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He’s dumbfounded, it’s as if he’s never seen this before. This is nothing new to him, but it always feels like the first time… That’s a good thing, right? 

His lips land on yours again, though he takes more risks this time as his hand fondles your breast. His lips don’t last long on your mouth, choosing to kiss down your neck, before his lips land on your breasts. His lips kiss every inch of your skin before his tongue circles around your nipple. 

It’s nice, but you need more. Your body is begging to feel every inch of him. Luckily for you, it’s as if Zayne can read your mind.

“I need to taste more of you. Please.” There’s desperation behind his eyes, it’s as if he needs it. You get on the bed for him, legs spreading without a shame in the world.He stares down at you and he licks his lips. Maybe this is how he should’ve led the date in the first place.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He says as he gets on his knees. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up. So gentle and shy, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Doing things slowly is what makes this more exciting.

“Smells so sweet.” He finally gets to your pussy, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit before he kisses it. His lips feel so soft on you. He kisses your clit again before his tongue begins to flick it. Tastes even better than he remembered. 

Sweeter than he could ever imagine.

Low moans escape your lips as you feel his tongue work on you. The sound of your voice is perfect, all the motivation he needs to do this. It’s his reward for the night, and he couldn’t be happier. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. 

He kisses your clit, two long fingers running through your folds to gather your slick. Once his fingers are lubricated enough, he slowly pushes them in. He begins to suck on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You moan his name, pleasure already consuming you.

He curves his fingers so they hit just the right spot. You bite down your lip, feeling embarrassed at the thought of being too loud. He’s looking up at you, and the look on your face is something he wants to have ingrained in his memory.

His fingers pick up speed, and your hands grip the bed sheets. Pleasure consumes you, your climax slowly overtaking your body. You’re moaning his name again, unable to contain yourself as sex clouds your mind. 

“That’s it, baby! That’s so good.” You can’t help yourself as your boyfriend hits all the right spots. It’s music to his ears. Even when he’s been congratulated for his many achievements, this is the best thing he’s ever heard.

Your breath gets caught up in your chest, your body quivering as you finally reach your climax. Zayne pulls out his fingers, tongue continuing to lap at your cunt until he’s finally satisfied. He presses a kiss on your clit when he’s finished.

“I need you, baby. Please.” You say, and Zayne can’t afford to waste another moment. It hurts to even think with the uncomfortable feeling that’s in his pants. He walks to the nightstand to get the bottle of lube before giving all his attention to you. He gets undressed before getting on top of you.

“Are you sure you want this?” Zayne asks as he pours the lube all over his dick. Maybe he should consider some sort of protection, but he needs to fully feel you. He needs to feel every inch of your body. 

“I need you, please. Give it to me.” Your voice is enough to drive him wild. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing himself into you. He bites his lip, not wanting the pathetic noise that leaves his throat to be audible. You feel so nice and warm around his cock, so fucking perfect in every single way.

“It’s so good.” He mutters, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he feels you around him. He bottoms out, stopping to give you time to adjust. 

“Move.” You tell him, and Zayne begins to move with slow thrusts. His eyes focus on your face, watching as it contorts with pleasure. It’s hard for him to not get nervous when you look like this, so fucking perfect. 

“You’re so tight.” He says, hands gripping the bed sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands going to the back of your neck to push him down. Your lips meet his in a messy but passionate kiss.

You drive him insane.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” You praise him, and you hear a groan come from his throat. His thrusts pick up speed, slowly losing himself inside of you. All composure comes undone when it comes to you.

He watches your hand move down your torso, and before you can even finish your thought, his hand takes over. His fingers play with your clit, doing everything just right. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, moaning his name over and over again.

“Fuck.” He curses, a word that rarely leaves his lips. But what else can he say when you’re squeezing around him? He shuts his eyes, too overwhelmed by everything that goes on. Your hands go to his back, nails digging into his soft flesh which makes him moan– The slight pain heightens the pleasure.

“Zayne, I’m gonna–” You begin, pleasure overtaking your body as another climax approaches. Zayne hits all the right spots, he simply knows your body too well. 

“I know, dear. I know.” He’s out of breath. He’s close too. It’s just too much for him to handle. But you’re one step ahead of him. Your nails drag along the skin of his back as pleasure gets the best of you. You see white, finally reaching your high. 

“Good job.” He praises you, knowing that he’s not going to last much. You’re just too much for him, which in the context, is a wonderful thing. His thrusts get sloppy, getting more vocal by the second.

“Can I finish inside?” He asks, and you frantically nod your head, not even having the words to say yes. You pull him into a kiss, and he groans into it as he releases his warm cum into you. A dragged out sigh leaves his lips when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He stays buried inside of you, not wanting to leave your warmth just yet. He stares into your eyes for a bit, getting lost in them once again. There’s a certain spark in them, one that he’s noticed only appears when you look at him. The same spark that appears in his eyes.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask him as he pulls out of you. He lays down beside you, turning his head to look at your sweaty face.

“Clean up first.” He says, though you don’t listen and nuzzle up next to him. He rolls his eyes, but he still wraps his arms around you. “I admit, this is much better than stargazing.”

“We could’ve done that there too.” You respond without missing a beat, and his face gets completely red. He definitely wasn’t imagining that. He supposes that you could’ve, but it wouldn’t be as special– It would be even more special, it just would be indecent.

“I like it better here.” He tells you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s warm, and there’s no bugs around.”

“You’re right.” You chuckle. “Could you imagine if a mosquito bit you–”

“How about I run you a bath?” Zayne cuts you off, knowing that the question that’s about to leave your lips is absurd. He doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Will you join me?” You question, getting off him. He takes a moment to look at you before nodding in response. 

A bath sounds nice.

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[priniya]

˗ˏ` EMOTIONS! 🍵 ´ˎ˗

pairing. theodore nott x reader

summary. theo never handled his emotions right, and when his girlfriend shows up in a wrong moment, things escalate and theodore doesn’t know how to fix it.

THEO HAS BEEN A TICKING BOMB LATELY and you knew that. it’s been bothering you, but every time you tried talking some senses into him, he brushed it all off, saying something too stupid and reckless for you to hear, so the topic was dropped sooner than it was brought up.

it was one of those times again, when a recurring thought was planted into your brain that you didn’t know your boyfriend like you thought you would. theodore hasn’t been himself lately, which made you worry tons. he’s been smoking much more and getting into fights more often as well as getting into trouble with the teachers, losing the points for your house, which… well, you didn’t care that much about it. what you cared for was theo’s wellbeing.

since it’s been a christmas break, you had gone home to spend time with your family, which meant your contant with theo was limited to a few letters that he was doing somewhat fine, yet you’ve been smart enough to know that spending christmas with his father and grandfather could never make him feel fine, not even a little bit. it was the breaking point in you that you’ve decided it’s the end of brushing you off.

“riddle, berkshire – out.” you barged into the dorm, glaring at your boyfriend’s dormmates, causing the first one to groan in annoyance.

“jesus, can’t be in your own room anymore.” mattheo rolled his eyes at you, yet he knew it was coming, so he dragged his ass up, patting theo’s back. “good luck with that one, nott.” he muttered before leaving the room with lorenzo, who just sent you a sympathetic smile.

theo, on the other hand, just glanced at you for a second, knitting his eyebrows together. “what do you want, l/n?” he asked, his nose still burried in between pages of a book you gave him for christmas.

“oh, last name basis, al–fucking–right.” you grumbled, grabbing the book away from his hands, your body trembling with fury. you hadn’t had a proper conversation in over two weeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be a decent man towards you. “what’s going on with you, nott?”

“get off my dick, y/n, really.” he rolled his eyes, expression matching the one his roommate had a few moments earlier. “i don’t have fucking time for this shit.” theo added, clearly agitated.

“well, you want it — you have it, i’m not getting on your dick anytime soon.” your voice was thick with emotion as the mention of celibacy earning you a look. “i know something’s going on. i know that, because i’m your girlfriend and i care about you. just trust–” you started, but the sentence wasn’t meant to be finished, because nott cut you off.

“then don’t. merlin, i don’t need a fucking babysitter, hoovering over my ass all the time. you’re not my bloody therapist, l/n. i don’t fucking need you to stick your nose into my business 24/7.” theodore stood up, his nose almost brushing yours before you took a step back, startled at the sudden outburst. “and sex? don’t amuse me, for merlin’s sake. i could leave the dorm right now and find someone to bone if i wanted to.” his tone was harsh, while his words were like knives thrown at you as a reward for being a caring girlfriend.

your boyfriend looked at his knuckles, his gaze focusing on the ring as he begun to take it off, making your pupils widen. “go. give it to someone who’s gonna be crazy enough to put up with your obsession about emotions. i’m not doing that anymore.” he muttered, pushing the ring into your palm.

“fine.” was the only thing that came to your mind after his words. your body continued to tremble and at this point, you couldn’t have been sure if it was your annoyance or broken heart that he just broke up with you. “just keep your promise and stay away from me. maybe join the death eaters too, for all i care, you’ll fit in perfectly.” with that, you left his dorm, slamming the door behind you as you fought with tears flowing down your cheeks.

“troubles in paradise?” mattheo grinned at you playfully, not noticing your tears-stained face as you were storming through the common room to the exit of the room.

“go fuck yourself, riddle.”

it wasn’t even five minutes later, when mattheo entered his shared dorm, his expression utterly confused as his mind was doing its best to connect the dots. “what’s with that gal of yours?” he asked theo, plopping down onto his bed, lightning up a cigarette right after.

“she’s not my gal anymore.” nott mumbled in response, almost untouched by the entire thing that just happened and that took his best friend by surprise.

“what do you mean she’s not your gal anymore?” he asked, his frown deepening. “lad, don’t tell me she broke up with you, you love this girl to death.” riddle added, scanning his friend’s face for any sign of uneasiness or a clue to understand all of it.

“i broke up with her.” theo replied with a shrug.

“merlin, man, why?” mattheo asked another question, this time being left without an answer as nott shut the curtains of his bed, putting on a silence spell.

IGNORING THEODORE ALL WEEK HAS BEEN EASY as you weren’t in the same year as him. you’ve been grovelling inside about the break-up, but from what your mother had always told you, when you were younger, you remembered that all the teenage boys were shitty and you couldn’t — by any means — let him know how much hurt you were. ignoring him was easy, all because, in your eyes, he didn’t even take any effort to show you remorse for what happened, from what you’ve known, he didn’t even look at you once.

the worst part of loving theodore nott was not being able to brush off all the concerns and worries that lived rent free in your mind, whenever you’ve noticed him walking through the hallways. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to care about him at all, so that was what you were planning on doing. kept your head high and your feet steady on the ground.

what you didn’t know, was that it wasn’t pride that made him keep his eyes away from you, but guilt. from the moment he woke up the day following your argument, his organism was flooded with guilt and shame to the point, where he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.

he fucked everything up just like his father always told him that he would. he broke the promise he’d made to himself that he wouldn’t drive you away, wouldn’t hurt you like his father hurt his mom, yet he did. you were the only person in his world that made him feel like a normal human being, one, who could love and be loved, but he had to ruin it all, because his pride wouldn’t let him to open up to you.

it’s been already a week since the biggest mistake of his life, as he called it, and theo’s entire body hurt. he was popping pills with blaise like candies, because sobriety and consciousness made everything worse. he couldn’t stop thinking about you — about your expression, when he broke things off with you, the hurt in your eyes and the way you were holding yourself after that.

people, not close enough to you, might’ve been fooled by the facade you’ve built around you, though not theo. he’d known you for years prior to your relationship, he’d seen you both happy and miserable and now? now, you were beyond miserable. you might’ve kept your head high with the biggest smile on your face, but he’s known. he always would — whether you wanted him to or not.

quidditch practices were the worst, all because you were always there, yet never watching him. it wasn’t even up to you to be there and theo was certain of it. you were there, so your best friend wouldn’t have to sit through an entire practice alone, while she watched lorenzo with starstruck expression all the fucking time.

“lad, you have to apologise to her, sort it out.” enzo sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “aoife’s worried about her. ‘m not really surprised, though, she started smoking weed on daily-basis again. aoif’s saying she can’t remember, when she saw her sober for the last time, but it’s better than bawling her eyes out over some asshole, aoif’s words, not mine.” having a friend, who was also somehow close to you and your best friend was a blessing in disguise. lorenzo kept him updated, not leaving out all the insults aoife lynch threw at him for breaking her best friend’s heart.

a loud sigh left theo’s lips as he leaned over the table, his forehead falling onto the wooden surface as he let out a groan. “i don’t even know what to do, enzo.”

“my suggestion? get your shit together.” mattheo chimed in, a playful grin on his face. “i mean it, theo. the gal of yours keeps showing up to my spot and i can’t deal with her tears anymore. get your shit together and fix it.”

“the problem is, matt, i don’t know how.”

the opportunity, although being totally… stupid, occurred at the end of another week during a game with hufflepuffs. theo’s entered another stage of grief and has been going around the school angry at everything. so, when the game came, he was playing rougher than usually, because he needed an outlet to the built-up anger.

of course, you’ve noticed. how couldn’t you? you’ve been keeping an eye on him for the entire two weeks. despite your promise to aoife, you couldn’t let it go. no matter who he was, your boyfriend, a friend, a stranger or an enemy, you couldn’t stop worrying about him and doing your best to look out for him. so… when he was forcefully pushed off his broom by diggory, you were running down the stairs before he even hit the ground. you needed to be beside him or it would kill you.

he was unconcious for almost two more days, making it a sixteen days without hearing his voice and you were going crazy, spending every single second, occupying the tabletop placed next to his bed. his hands in between yours as you kept it close to you. did he deeply pained you with his words? yes. would you let him be alone in the hospital wing? of course not.

“y/n/n.” he whispered suddenly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.” nott let out and you weren’t sure if it was some kind of sleep talking or your delusions leading you on. “i’m so sorry, baby.” he repeated his words with a term of endearment, squeezing your hand weakly.

“theodore…” your words hitched in your throat as you moved the hair aside from his forehead. “don’t think about it now.” you whispered in a coy manner. “it doesn’t matter.”

“i can’t.” he coughed out. “i can’t stop thinking about it. about you. i’ve acted like a dick, but i didn’t mean it. you’re my world, baby, i’m so, so sorry. you were right all this time, i build up my emotions inside of me and let it get the best of me in the worst moment. i’m so sorry i hurt you, i swear i hate myself for—” he continued his rambling, slowly opening his eyes to have a look at you.

“hey, teddy, please, don’t think about it now.” you pleaded, still holding his hand. your thumb caressing his palm. “just rest, okay? please. we’ll talk about once you’re well-rested and out of here.” your voice was gentle.

he shifted in his hospital bed, hissing as his ribcage hurt immensely. “no, cara, please.” he muttered, bringing his lips to your palm. “listen, i can’t get over what i told you. i’m so fucking sorry, baby.” he whispered.

“teddy…” you started, but he cut you off.

“no. i’m sorry i said all those things to you, you didn’t deserve all the shit i gave you.” he let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “you need to hit me. for all the pain and suffering. oh god, and the tears. you should just kill me at this point.” theo muttered, and honestly? he did deserve the beating for what he’s done, but the three days of unconsciousness due being knocked off the broom, you could let it go. it could be his fate share of beating.

“just shut up, will you?” you sighed, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “we’re fine.”

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”