#V: 'Of course. But I'll be there with you'

[a-killer-obsession]

Shared Smiles [Heat x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

Despite being forced on board against your will, you find yourself connecting with a commander, and finding solace in your shared traumas.

CW: wounds, off-screen amputation, loss of limb, comfort, trauma, mentions of mutilation, fingering, p in v sex, afab reader

WC: ~6k

Masterlist || AO3

The chains holding you creaked slightly as you swung back and forth, blood running down over your face and dripping to the floor below you as you hung upside down. Your ankles were bound together in metal cuffs, your hands tied to your torso with chains, and your body bare save for your panties and the many fresh wounds that littered your body. Two Supernovas of the Worst Generation stood in front of you, Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid and his first mate, Massacre Soldier Killer. The captain pressed his boot against your face again, letting back off and making your body swing, the ankle cuffs digging into your skin at the added pressure the movement created.

“Last chance,” the redheaded captain gloated, kneeling and grabbing a handful of your hair to force you to look at him. You could barely keep eye contact, not out of fear but, because you'd been upside down for so long that you were nearly unconscious. “I don't usually give out mercies like this, but your skills are useful to me, and my girls enjoyed your company before you fucked up”

Said fuck up was simply rejecting the large man of his sexual advances. You'd met some of his crew, a couple of girls named Hip, Hop, Quincy, Emma and Dive, at a bar nearby. You'd seen a lot on your travels as a for-hire mercenary, but female pirates were not common on the Grandline. They'd made you laugh, a rarity for you, and hadn't judged your unusual mask that hid your mouth and the end of your nose. Of course they hadn't, they were used to a first mate who covered the entirety of his face in white and blue stripes. They didn't even ask questions about it, which was a breath of fresh air for you, only commenting on how cool the sculpting that decorated it was - a relief of a open lion's jaw, with large, sharp teeth and a lolling tongue, trimmed by a nose and cheeks curled mid roar. The whole mask gave you the appearance of having a lion's snout, and along with the clawed gloves you wore during combat, was the guiding force for the moniker the marines had given you: ‘The Lioness, [Y/N]’.

Now, had your rejection perhaps been a little harsh? Maybe, by normal standards. A large, attractive man with such infamy as him was probably not rejected often, let alone with such sass. You knew you had a knack for being too brutally truthful, never filtering your words or pulling your verbal punches. It'd gotten you in trouble on more than one occasion, but you were a talented fighter, fast and agile, you didn't usually get caught in situations like this. When the Massacre Soldier snuck up on you in the alley outside though, you found you were no match for him, he had such a high bounty for a reason.

“How bout it little kitty?” Kid purred in faux sweetness, bringing you back to reality, blinking as you fought the pull of unconsciousness. “You can join my crew, or you can stay here and get tortured till you die. This is the last time I'll ask”

Did you want to be a pirate? No, you liked running solo, you liked having the freedom to go wherever you wanted and take whatever jobs were convenient. Having your life dictated by someone else was the last thing you wanted, and being around the same people every day would make it hard to avoid forming attachments. You had sworn to never get close to others again, after your last relationship resulted in the unforgivable reason you wore the mask. Making friends you'd never see again in bars was one thing, but you weren't looking for long term relationships, platonic or not. On the other hand, you liked being alive. You would not let a man be your death, not after everything you'd been through.

“Fine,” you spat. The single word was a struggle to push out, your head felt like it was in a vice and the rest of your body was going numb as a new droplet of blood rolled down your face and caught in your eyelashes.

“Wise choice,” the first mate noted from behind his unreadable mask. “One of our commanders is gonna love that pretty little smile of yours”

“Bite me,” you spat back, voice laced with venom.

“Tell the girls to clean her up and get her settled,” Kid addressed the first mate as he used his devil fruit to release your bindings, dropping you to the hard floor unceremoniously. He threw your mask at you, bouncing with an audible clunk off your already sore head, and you grabbed it greedily. Killer watched you with empathy as you desperately covered your mouth back up, he knew that feeling well and felt like an asshole for knowing what you hid underneath. You shot daggers up at him as the mask was settled in its rightful place, the room brightening for a moment as the door opened for the captain to leave before returning to its barely lit state.

As the months passed, you found yourself feeling surprisingly comfortable amongst the Kid Pirates. It'd taken you a while to heal and stop being so jumpy, but it came as no surprise to learn you were not the only crew member who had been hired via torture after pissing the short-fused captain off, and they all thought it was hilarious in retrospect. You hoped one day you'd find it funny too, but for now you still had aches from where new scars pulled taut on your skin as you moved. You found yourself at home among the other girls, and learned that Kid protected them with fierce loyalty. You had expected to have to reject more advances from him, but as it turned out, he treated the girls on his crew like sisters, and after months of getting past the violent way you were brought on the ship, you found yourself able to laugh in his presence. You never expected to enjoy the life of a pirate, but in truth it was nice to not have to fight for everything and take care of yourself, it was soothing to know someone had your back if you got into trouble. The girls had been diligent in tending to your wounds and nursing you back to health, and you'd gotten to know them well over the last few months. At first you thought about running every chance you got, but now you felt a pang of guilt whenever you thought of leaving the women you'd come to call friends, and ultimately pushed away the idea of leaving all together.

Much like the first mate though, you never removed your mask in front of the others. They'd allowed you to put up a curtain around your cot so you could sleep without it in privacy, you ate your meals in solitude sitting on the figurehead skull of the ship, and thankfully the showers were built as separate cubicles with doors. Nobody asked why you wore the mask, they respected your privacy the same way they respected Killer's, to ask what lay underneath would be a disrespect against both of you. As for the two that had seen, Kid and Killer kept your secret, even from the other commanders. Their word was gospel, so nobody pried, and it helped to make you feel safe here. You hadn't gone this long without someone asking about what the mask hid for months, the only questions you ever got from the crew were in regard to the mask itself. How was it made? Why a lion? Where did you get it? Is it annoying to wear? Curiosities that you couldn't fault, but always asked in a respectful manner.

This evening, like many other evenings, you found yourself drinking with the crew. It was a crew of around thirty, and although there were a few members held higher than the rest - the captain, first mate, and four commanders - it was clear the whole crew were friends, and there was no divide when they drank. You found yourself sitting next to Heat, a quiet, tall man with an almost grey skin tone, thick blue hair that fell in waves, and an almost perpetually sad expression. He was sweet, and easy to be around, and you often found yourself seeking his company. He didn't pry about your past as long as you didn't ask about his, and he was okay with a comfortable silence, making him one of your favourite people to spend time with, along with his best friend Wire, another commander who was similar in personality, though a lot more stoic, an a significant amount taller. Heat looked tough, but on a more personal level seemed far too soft to be a pirate. He didn't have a devil fruit, but he could breathe fire, and his long thorn-like tattoos fascinated you. He was an interesting man, someone you could see yourself opening up to in the past, if you hadn't sworn to close your heart from all men after the betrayal you experienced with the last one.

For obvious reasons, you didn't actually drink around the others, you just took part in the conversations. Unlike the Massacre Soldier, who could thread a straw through the holes in his mask, your mask was one solid form, the only holes being a mesh for ventilation hidden under the top row of sharp teeth, and the holes in the lion's nose where there the anatomy dictated, again so you could actually breathe. You enjoyed the company none-the-less though, and you'd never been one for drinking before the mask anyway so it was no loss. You didn't like the way alcohol made you feel, you preferred to keep your wits about you. That was another thing you enjoyed about Heat, he was your comrade in sober arms, also preferring not to drink. Apparently last time he got drunk he accidentally set fire to a bar, so he chose to stay sober for everyone's safety.

You laughed wholeheartedly as Quincy fell victim to a well planned truth or dare, admitting she'd had a raunchy sex dream about another crewmate, Bubblegum, the crew erupting in laughter as the two of them flushed bright red. The laughter died down and it was Quincy's turn to ask a question to the next victim, and your breath caught as you thought she was going to pick you, only to move one more over and pick Heat. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Truth or dare Heatie!” She coughed out, trying to quickly divert the crew's attention.

“Truth,” he replied calmly.

“Okay, mmmm,” she pressed a index finger to her mouth as she thought, “tell us who you have a crush on!”

A few of the crew went “ooooooh” as Heat turned bright red, and Kid sat up, his attention piqued.

“Look how red he is!” Kid barked, “there's definitely someone!”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Someone called out.

“It's… it's…[y/n]” he finally stuttered out, finally breaking, curling in on himself and trying to hide his flushed face from you. Your own face went pink at the admission, you hadn't expected it at all and there were butterflies in your chest. Heat quickly picked the next victim to move the attention, and you quietly excused yourself from the gathering.

“I didn't mean to offend you,” Heat said softly as he approached where you sat on the figurehead skull, facing the ocean. You quickly wiped your tears and sniffed, replacing your mask which you'd removed to keep it dry from your crying. “Were you crying? [Y/n] I'm so sorry, please forget I said anything, it's just a dumb game”

“It's not that, Heat,” you sniffed, “it just… brought up some not very nice memories is all. It's not your fault”

“Oh, well I'm sorry anyway,” he shifted awkwardly on his feet, “do you want to talk about it?”

“The last man I was with was not kind,” you tried to explain, “he… decided I was no longer worth the trouble, and he did this,” you pointed at the mask.

“Can I… see?” He asked shyly.

You looked out to the ocean, thinking hard about whether you were ready for that, ready to let someone past that heavily guarded wall. If anyone would understand, it was him. In truth, you didn't want to carry this burden alone anymore, and you knew he was more than willing to carry it with you. You looked around the deck for spying eyes, and seeing no other life you gave him a small nod and patted the figurehead next to you, inviting him to come sit. He climbed up and sat beside you, cross legged and patient. You sighed nervously as you unlatched the mask with shaky hands, turning to him anxiously.

“Oh,” he said softly.

Staring back at him, stretching from the corners of your mouth to the apex of your jaw, were the jagged scars of a Glasgow smile, just like his own. His heart stung when he saw it, he knew the pain you'd been through, physical and emotional, and the way you no doubt feel every time you look in the mirror. You turned away from him again, replacing the mask and looking back out to the ocean.

“Did you kill him?” He asked, shuffling a little closer so your shoulders touched, staring out to the sea with you.

“Yes,” you replied flatly.

“Good,” he huffed. “How long ago did it happen, if you don't mind me asking”

“Three years,” you idly picked at the cuticles on your fingers.

“The dysphoria will pass, in time,” he assured you, then pointed at his own scars, “rival gang, eight years ago. I wore a scarf over the scars for five years before I finally got comfortable with my own reflection. It'll pass, and nobody here will judge you when it finally does”

You nodded quietly and rested your head on his shoulder, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence till you started to fall asleep and decided to head to bed.

“MOVE, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Heat shouted at the other crewmates that had crowded around your fallen form.

In a blink of an eye, everything had gone so very wrong. The crew had been raiding a marine base, rampaging through it as they always did, cutting down marines left and right. Nobody could have known the building you were fighting next to was structurally unsound, closed off from use years ago, scheduled to be demolished before it could collapse on someone's head. One small shake of the ground from a nearby explosion and the whole outer wall crumbled, burying you in heavy cement faster than you had a chance to register what was happening. The crew had been quick to dig you out, working together to move the large slab of concrete that was crushing you. Heat took in your seemingly lifeless body with baited breath, the limbs on your right side twisted in unnatural positions, deep purple bruises already forming on any skin that was visible, blood running from your nose and ears.

Your body moved just a little, and suddenly you were screaming. Awaking in absolute agony, everything was on fire, you could barely think through the pain. Only one coherent word escaped you, a shrill, desperate scream of his name, before the world went black again. Thankful that you were unconscious again so you didn't have to feel your injuries, Heat carefully lifted you, holding you close to his chest as he carried you back to the ship, tears silently rolling down his cheeks and neck as he tried his best to keep it together for you, to get you somewhere safe and start the long, hard process of healing.

For five days you slept in the infirmary of the Victoria Punk, and for those five days Heat never left your side, sleeping in an old metal chair next to you, his head against your arm and your good hand held gently in his, praying to whatever god that would listen that you'd wake up. His back ached from sleeping upright, he had deep, dark bags under his eyes, and he smelt as bad as he looked, still covered in the grime and blood from the battle, refusing to leave your side for long enough to shower. You needed him here, he needed to be here when you woke up, because you had to wake up, and he fought tooth and nail against anyone who dared to try and drag him away.

When you finally awoke, you did so with a small whimper, unable to remember what had happened, or understand why half your limbs weren't reacting the way you wanted them to. Heat had been asleep next to you, but was quickly at attention, standing over you and making sure you knew he was here before you had time to question whether you were all alone.

“Shh, don't try to move,” he said softly, stopping you from sitting up too fast with a firm but gentle hand against your chest, “you got hurt real bad, but you're safe now, you're gonna be okay”

Your hand flew to your mouth, feeling for your mask, looking up at him with wide shocked eyes when you found it was missing.

“Shh, shh, it's okay,” he took your hand back in his and removed it from your face, “only the doc saw, nobody else except Kid and Killer have come in here, and they said they'd already seen”

Your breathing calmed down again as you accepted his assurances, squeezing his hand and trying to sit up again. You wanted, no, needed to know how bad the damage was, you needed to see for yourself. You felt heavy, no doubt from painkillers, but you could still tell something was very wrong, your right arm and leg still not responsive. Heat saw your efforts and sighed, he knew there was no keeping you from it any longer.

“I'm gonna help you sit up okay?” He slid his arm around your shoulders and held the other against your chest, “But I need you to not panic. Your injuries were life threatening, Emma did everything in her power but she couldn't save everything”

You tried your best to stay calm but you couldn't help but start to hyperventilate as he sat you up and pulled the blanket that covered you aside, finally seeing the damage for yourself. Your right arm was in a cast, from your armpit to your hand, set in a bend. Your pinky and ring finger were missing, only stubs of them remained. You were wearing nothing but your underwear, your entire torso wrapped in bandages, healing graze marks and yellowing bruises peeking out from wherever the wrapping didn't cover. But the worst of the injuries was your right leg. Or rather, lack thereof, because from your mid thigh down was just empty space where your leg should have been, a bandage wrapped tightly around the short nub that remained.

Heat held you tight to his chest as you took in the damage and started to sob, your tears soaking into his corset shirt and rehydrating some of the blood and dirt on his chest. You weren't sure how long you cried for, at some point he climbed up on the bed and sat behind you, rocking you back and forth and cooing reassurances in your ear until you were able to settle your breathing and your sobs turned to teary-eyed hiccups.

“It's gonna be okay,” Heat assured, his arms around your torso as he pressed a kiss to your dirty hair, “Kid is already working on a prosthetic for you, Emma said the amount she was able to save is plenty to learn to walk again with one, it's gonna be okay, I'm gonna be here the whole time”

You nodded as you let yourself rest back against him, the weight of your emotional burden too much to bare alone anymore, letting him support your exhausted body and keep you afloat.

A few days had passed and Emma, as the ship's doctor, had cleared you to leave the infirmary. You couldn't walk given you would need two working arms for crutches, and with your dominant arm out of action you struggled at even the most basic tasks, so Heat insisted you stay with him. He'd pulled a spare mattress from the henchmen's quarters and was sleeping on the floor with it, leaving the entire queen size bed for you. As a commander he had his own room and a small humble bathroom, nothing compared to the grand rooms Kid and Killer had, but it was private and it was comfortable, and it kept you from embarrassing yourself in the middle of the night whenever you needed to go to the bathroom. He'd even rearranged his room for you, and made Kid install metal railings, all you needed to do was hop a few supported steps to make it to the toilet. If you had to travel any further he didn't hesitate to carry you, he didn't even need to be asked, all you had to do was look at him and he was moving.

The first thing you needed after leaving the infirmary was a good wash. Emma had done her best with Heat's assistance to sponge bath what they could to keep your wounds clean of the blood and debris you'd been covered in when Heat had carried you in, but you really needed a soak to wipe away the thick layer of grime. You couldn't wash yourself though, you needed to keep your casted arm out of the water, which meant a shower was out of the question - not that you'd be able to stand in one - and with only one hand there was no way you were washing your hair on your own. Even with the one working arm, your chest and side were still aching from the deep bruising you'd received as a result of being crushed, you were lucky you hadn't broken any ribs, but every movement hurt badly.

Emma had offered to wash you, but you'd surprised yourself and Heat by asking him instead. Somehow you felt more comfortable with the idea of him seeing you naked. Not that you had anything against Emma, you just felt safest with Heat. He'd carried you wordlessly to his room, wrapped in the infirmary blanket, and sat you on the closed toilet seat in his bathroom while he ran the water. Emma had given you the all clear to remove your bandages, though the one on your amputated leg would need to be replaced afterwards, so you worked on removing them while you waited. When the water was ready he helped you to your… foot… and held you steady while you used your good arm to manoeuvre your underwear past your hips, letting it fall to the floor at your ankles and leaving you entirely naked in front of him except for your cast.

He lifted you gently and lowered you into the water, your good arm around his neck for support. Using the old bandages he fashioned a sort of sling hanging from the curtain railing to keep your other arm out of the water, so you wouldn't have to worry about holding it up yourself the whole time. He was so careful and methodical as he washed you, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks the whole time, unable to look you in the eye for shame of how much he enjoyed seeing your naked body, how much he enjoyed touching you, when such horrible circumstances had led to this.

He avoided your genitals, letting you wash them yourself, and you sighed as his strong fingers worked shampoo into your scalp, washing away thick layers of grime that a sponge bath couldn't touch. It was quiet and intimate, the only words shared being him asking consent and you granting it as he worked on the different parts of your body, wiping away the blood and dirt. You whimpered as the cloth ran over your stump, burying your face in his chest for moral support as he diligently cleaned the old blood from it, the conditioner in your hair transfering to his skin.

Finally finished, he discarded the cloth and held you close while he knelt next to the tub, and you couldn't help but cry more at the awful state of your body. He didn't question your need to cry, he just held you while you got it all out till you took a deep breath and pushed yourself away from him, nodding that you were ready to move on. He rinsed the conditioner from your hair and drained the tub, wrapping you in a soft towel as he picked you back up and carried you to the bed. He held you in his lap as he dried you with an extra towel, patting dry your hair and wiping the dewdrops from your limbs. He held you firm to his chest, your arm around his neck, your head tucked under his chin as you listened to his rhythmic breathing. It was enough to lull you to sleep, so he carefully slipped an old baggy t-shirt over you, trying his best to not wake you, and tucked you into his bed, leaving you to rest.

It'd been close to six weeks since the accident. Your arm cast had been removed a week ago, so you were now able to get around on your own using crutches, though the distance you could go before tiring was limited. Kid had built you a beautiful prosthetic leg, even going so far as adding a lion's clawed paw for the foot to match your mask, and Emma had given the go ahead for you to try using it in a few more days. For now, your stump remained covered in a compression sock, to promote healing and make sure it was ready for the prosthetic to be fitted. Kid had become an unlikely ally in this battle, having lost a limb himself he understood how you were feeling, and had helped you through more than one dark episode while you mourned the loss of your leg.

Mostly though, it was Heat that was there for you. You were still staying in his room, even though you assured him you could manage on your own. He insisted you would be more comfortable here, and try as you might he refused to share the large bed with you to at least alleviate a little of your guilt, telling you over and over that he was more than comfortable on his mattress, even though it was clear to everyone that his back was hurting and his eyes had heavy bags. You could hear him toss and turn at night, his quality of sleep significantly diminished because of his chivalrous sacrifice, but he'd give up anything to make you even slightly more comfortable. You had to admit though, having the privacy to sleep without your mask without fear of peeping toms was a luxury in itself. You didn't wear the mask in the bedroom, more than comfortable without it in front of Heat. He still helped you bathe, but it'd become significantly less awkward, now a time for conversation and laughter. You no longer had a cast to keep dry, and you really didn't need help anymore other than getting in and out of the tub, but neither of you had said anything about it, so he happily continued to help you, and you graciously accepted the help and his company. Subconsciously, neither of you wanted to let go of that time alone together, and you secretly enjoyed the feel of his hands wandering over your body, and the way he silently scanned your curves, a quiet hunger in his eyes that never left no matter how many times he saw you naked.

On this night, the ship was on route to a winter island, the long reaching weather system already chilling the air significantly as Heat helped you into bed. He stole a chaste kiss on the top of your hair, as he often did these days, before excusing himself to his mattress on the floor.

Hours passed, and he woke as he often did, sighing to himself and twisting his torso to crack his sore back. He strolled in his sweatpants to the bathroom to get a glass of water, thankful that his natural abilities kept him well heated, so he didn't feel the chill of the snowy weather outside. You, however, were not a fire breather, and were very much feeling the cold. You were shivering in your sleep, hunched in on yourself to try and conserve any heat from escaping but failing miserably. He felt a pang of guilt at your shaking form, and opened a cupboard to get you another blanket, only to discover you were already using the extra one. What was he to do? His own blanket was barely anything, more of a thin fabric to cover him for comfort than for warmth, it wouldn't make any difference to put it over you. Should he go find you another blanket? Where from? Maybe he could wake Wire and see if he had a spare? Everyone else on the ship felt the cold the same as you though, they were no doubt all using their blankets.

Stressed that you would fall ill, he pulled at his hair, trying to find a solution, till a small whimper escaped you and the solution was abundantly clear. He lifted the blankets and slid in beside you, wrapping himself around your body, covering as much of your icy frame as he could with his hot skin. Your shivering quickly stopped, and a small smile formed on your face as you settled into a deeper sleep. He let go a sigh of relief and shuffled till he was comfortable, laying so close that his head was on the same pillow as yours. It felt like a violation of your personal space, but he couldn't bare to watch you shiver anymore, and he felt butterflies at being able to hold you so close in what was really his bed, even if it mostly smelt like you these days, not that he had complaints.

You were so warm when you woke up, wrapped in what felt like an army of hot water bottles, your skin sticky with sweat but you were too comfy to care. It took you an embarrassing long time to realise you weren't alone, a soft breath rustling your hair gently in a rhythmic pattern that matched the movement of the warm form next to you. Your eyes traced the thorn like tattoos that ran up and down the arm that was draped over you, a thick, muscular thigh trapped between yours, a pillow of pale blue hair intermingled with your own. You had wrapped yourself around him like a koala on a tree, seeking out his warmth in the night and clinging to it so it couldn't escape. You tilted your head up, your face now millimetres from his, inspecting fondly the scars on his face that matched your own. The dark eyeliner he liked to wear under his eyes was smudged, always too lazy to remove it before he slept, and his chin was covered in a fine layer of blue stubble. You blushed at how handsome he was, and how close said handsome face was to yours, his strong arms wrapped around you like he was just as unwilling to let go as you were.

His eyes fluttered open, his dark irises immediately focusing on you and his pupils blown wide in surprise as he realised the position he was in. He tried to pull away, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but you pulled him back to you, pressing your lips to his on instinct, in a desperate plea for him to stay. For a moment he didn't move, frozen in fear that this wasn't real, that you hadn't really kissed him, till he finally accepted the reality and kissed you back. His kiss was tender, full of devotion and longing, and you made a small moan as his tongue ran over your bottom lip and his hand wove into your hair. You opened your lips for him and his tongue dove inside, rutting against yours with his own quiet moan as you held him tight, pulling lightly on his hair to wordlessly beg for more.

He rolled you on to your back, pressing his thigh further up between your legs, and you whimpered into his mouth as you tried to roll your hips to rub against him, desperate for friction but unable to get it with your stupid useless stump. Understanding your frustration he ran his hand quickly down your front, threading it under the waistband of your pyjamas and your panties to slide between your wet folds. He pressed a thumb to your clit, circling it as his index finger toyed with your entrance, before sliding in and pumping you with slow, shallow movements that made you cry out. You hadn't realised how badly you needed him, how much you needed him inside you, filling you and sharing your breaths. He pulled away from the kiss and you could see your own feelings reflected in his eyes, all that longing and need and love. Love you didn't think was possible for you to even feel again, but it was there, without a doubt, and you knew he felt it too.

He watched your face carefully as he slid a second finger inside you, then a third, his pace quickening as your walls fluttered around his digits, his clothed erection rutting against the thigh of your good leg in his own desperate need for friction. He wanted to he inside you so badly, he wanted to feel your hot wet walls take him in and see your face contort as you came on his cock, the thought alone was almost enough to make him cum as he groaned and kissed you with fervour. He swallowed your moans as you clamped down on his fingers, your back arching off the bed as you came hard, shuddering underneath him.

As soon as your high had settled, you were sitting up and trying your best to claw away at his pants. You wanted him inside you so fucking bad, you'd already cum once but you ached with need. He pushed down his pants, his cock springing to attention, red and swollen with equal need, precum leaking from the tip. You eyed him hungrily, he was thick and longer than average, a set of three piercings running up the underside, you wanted to know how they would feel inside you. He helped you pull off your own clothes before settling between your legs, his tip prodding at your entrance but not yet inside, much to your frustration.

“Are you sure?” He asked nervously. You pulled him down by his neck and kissed him, forcing your tongue in his mouth before biting his bottom lip, pulling a groan from him.

“Please, Heat,” you begged, “I need you inside me, please”

He returned his lips to yours as he slid inside you, stretching you out, till the need to breathe was too much and you broke the kiss to pant, holding his shoulders tight as he sheathed himself inside you. You let out a stuttered moan, your breathing haggard as you rolled your hips to try and get him to move. He pumped you deep and agonisingly slow, just enjoying the pull of your walls on his length, till you wrapped your good leg around him and pressed your heel against his ass, moaning and clawing at his back as his pace finally picked up. He buried his face in your shoulder as he fucked you hard and fast, holding the headboard above you for support while his other hand held your hip tight, his fingers leaving bruises in your skin. You cried out a flurry of curses, mixed with his name and a string of yes yes yes as he groaned and panted in your ear, whispering sweet nothings and praising you for how well you were taking him.

His movements became erratic as you started to tighten around him again, your fingernails sinking into the skin on his back as you screamed his name and came hard, clamping around his cock and pulling him forcefully with you. His thrusts stuttered and stilled as he unloaded inside you, his hot thick load dripping out of you for lack of space as he shook and groaned. He collapsed to your side, pulling you with him, his softening cock still buried inside you as he held you to his chest. You draped your leg over his hip, kissing him softly, slowly, your tongues pressing together with more careful and tender movements, no longer driven by the carnal need for him to be inside you. You were full and content, comfortable despite his cock still buried in you, you felt like you could stay connected like this forever. He made you feel safe, and beautiful, despite your scars and mutilated body, as he pressed loving kisses over your Glasgow smile, and you returned the favour with kisses traced along his.

[teratosfavouritesnack]

Minotaur!boyfriend x reader - first time, fingering (fem! receiving), monstrous p in v, praising kink

Your minotaur!boyfriend has always been treating you as a fragile little thing, the most precious thing he's ever had the privilege to touch. He would never forgive himself if he were to harm even just a hair on your pretty little head. And that's hard to do for someone like him. It's so hard for a creature so big and strong and powerful to be gentle, especially since he's so attracted to you almost to the point of obsession. But for his sweet little princess... oh, he would do anything, even refrain himself from ravaging you like he's been fantasising since the moment he laid eyes on you. And he has refrained from doing so, oh so many times since you started dating. He's kissed you, made out with you, fondled your breasts, groped your butt and fingered your pussy but never went any far than that because he knew that if he had, he wouldn't be able to control himself and most likely break you. That's why he's been preparing you, preparing you for the moment he would finally be inside you. Preparing you for tonight.

And he can't wait to finally fuck your brains out.

"Baby, please..."

Your pleas always made him tense up and struggle to hold back the previous times, but tonight, oh tonight he smiles in response to your begging, stroking your cheek with devotion as he nods and takes his fingers out of your throbbing walls not without first brushing his thumb on your swollen clit and making you twitch again. He's been fingering you and stretching you out for the past... half an hour? Neither of you know for sure. You were already too out of it to focus on anything but the way his fingers curled inside you causing shivers to course through your body and he... well, he's been fantasing the whole time about shoving his aching cock inside you and break your back - so per say.

"I know, sweetheart... I know." he coos, leaning towards you to nuzzle his snout in the crook of your neck. Your skin is already so clammy to the touch. His large tongue flicks over it to savour your salty taste. His eyes meet yours again, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes crinkle with a smile. "I'll give you what you want." He whispers compiacently, as if he's conceding to grant a long-time wish of yours instead of something he's been yearning for weeks to the point of almost busting in his pants every time he merely thought of it. The way your eyes widen and your body jolts in anticipation under his pleases him greatly and encourages him to move further.

And so he eagerly starts his descend, trailing the flat of his tongue along your collarbones, lingering on both your breasts for a moment before sliding all the way down to your wet folds. He laps at you once, twice, three times while he smears your juices on the length of his cock with his still wet fingers. All the while his eyes are trained on you, taking in every little twitch of your brows or quiver of your lips.

When he leans back and positions his thick veiny and almost painfully throbbing cock to your entrance, he's still gazing down at you, eyes full of lust but with that same reverence constantly lingering there whenever he looks at you. You're oh so beautiful, lying on the bed under him, shivering and moaning as he rubs the tip of his erection against your dripping wet folds, coating it in your cum. Those little sounds you make when he starts to probe your entrance almost drive him to lose his control but ugh, no he can't lose it now. He's been waiting so long for this moment, tortured himself by holding back so many times, he can't ruin it all now by rushing it and hurting you - the exact thing that lead him to wait in the first place. No, he's going to do it the right way. It'll be so worth it.

He starts to put more pressure against your hole, moving his hips with just a little more force to fight against your resistance and push his tip inside. "You okay, sweetheart?" Your adorable frantic nodding makes him smile, his free hand coming to cup your face to provide a comforting touch. "You're doing so so well..." he coos affectionately, eyes flickering to your stretched cunt as you manage to swallow the protruding head of his cock. "Ohh, yes-" He strokes your cheek, shushing your subdued cries. "You're doing so so well, baby..."

He manages to stay still despite the urge to piston his cock inside you, and thus giving you time to get used to the strenuous intrusion. His thumb strokes the area of his lenght just barely left out of your hole, teasing your sensitive flesh as well, he drags the pad all the way to your swollen clit and back to his own erection in slow circular motions. He feels you relax bit by bit around him and so he continues to move his finger, lingering on your clit each time a little bit longer and pushing his cock a tad further inside you in the meantime. It's not long before more than half of his length slides inside your gummy walls. He stills again, hips twitching slightly in distress, his thumb now focusing only on your clit, pressing on it with more force. He feels you tense up again, your thighs quivering and your eyes fluttering shut as you reach another orgasm. Your slick and pulsating channel seems to swallow him up and so with little to no effort he slides all the way inside, bottoming you out with a sharp huff escaping his flared nostrils.

His dilated pupils dart from your thoroughly stretched cunt to your contorted face, a mix of surprise and adoration and full on lust passing across his gaze. "Look at you... cumming all around my cock before I even start to move." His warm baritone voice is laced with awe and arousal, his fingers gently easing the frown away from your sweet face. "You're... s-s-so big!" you cry out and he grins, starting to move his hips against yours in slow but deep thrusts that leave you breathless. "And you're so fucking tight, love."

It's not long before he has the bed cracking and thumping powerfully against the wall under the force of his impetus, with you impaled on his massive cock, drooling, mewling and bouncing back and forth, tears stricking your face for the intense pleasure overrunning every cell of your body. He keeps on praising you the whole time, pleased by how well you're taking him, pleased by how your gummy walls wrap around his cock like a vice as you cum and cum multiple times around him. Grunts and puffs of air turn heavier and louder the more he nears his own climax, until your name falls from his lips in a low rumbling moan and his hot thick cum spills inside your swollen cunt.

Oh, was it worth it to wait! And now... well, now he can do it all over again. He's got so many missed times to make up for, after all.

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me ♡

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]

[caramelmochacrow]

"Beating so fast, seems like it'll burst..."

[despairforme]

Who is gonna make him laugh like this?

[softquietsteadylove]

Thena thanks Gil for bringing back Olympia. Kiss on the cheek?

"He's in there."

"Thank you."

Gil straightened up as the door opened an, instead of the club doctor Ajak walking in, it was Thena. She had sent him to get checked by Ajak after rescuing Olympia, of course, but he watched her take Olympia back to the stables herself. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you're faring," she said gently, in that pretty accent she had. She closed the door behind her, walking in, still in her boots and her white sweater dress. He could see where she had gotten mud on her from hugging Olympia and wiped it off after.

"Ah, I'll be okay," he smiled, hoping to downplay his current state. He naturally went to rub at the back of his neck, but flinched his hand away before he could upset the burns on his palms. "Nothing to worry about."

Thena visibly chose not to believe him, seating herself on the stool across from the examination bench. "Gil, really--how are you?"

He sighed. He was exhausted. He hadn't exactly prepared for a mountain hike at top speed this afternoon. And even once he had found Olympia, it was no easy feat, getting a horse back up through the woods to the club grounds.

And that was ignoring when Olympia had fallen and he had to all but pick her up, or when she had stumbled and crushed him into a tree with her rib cage, or when she had headbutted him any number of times in her panic. He'd had a rough day.

"I'm okay," he admitted, his shoulders sagging. Thena looked like he had completely lied to her but he raised his hands and shrugged, "really! I mean, it's nothing serious, is all."

"I didn't ask about the severity," she huffed, but didn't lecture him the way she had lectured Olympia about running off and causing trouble. She reached out, running her thumb over some scratches on his cheek from branches hitting him in the face.

He nearly leaned into it, her touch was so cool and so soft. But he restrained himself, trying not to seem like a pathetic fanboy or something. He cleared his throat, "is Olympia okay?"

Thena rolled her eyes as if he were asking about a child they babysat or co-parented. "Do not worry for that spoiled mare, she is safe and snuggled up in a blanket."

Gil chuckled, though. "I know how worried you were."

Thena's more stern facade melted, and the times he had seen this side of her were some of his favourites. She far preferred her horse's company to that of any person here at the club. And she cared for that horse like her own child. "She is uninjured, for the most part. And although she may lack confidence for the next few days, I believe her recovery will not be so hard a road."

Gil hunched even further, resting his elbows on his knees, "that's good."

Thena looked at him again, tilting her sandy blonde eyebrows. "It is thanks to you that she's home safe and sound."

"Hey," he shrugged, rising as she did the same. "I'd do it again--in a heartbeat!"

"I know, Gil."

He blinked, suddenly finding her hands on his. He blushed, but Thena turned his hands over, examining the balm that had been applied to the raw skin there. He hissed as she pressed.

She glared at him, "nothing severe?"

He gave her his most innocent shrug, "Ajak fixed me right up. So I'll have to wear gloves for the next few days. These things happen."

Her eyes flicked up at him, making her annoyance clear as she examined his palms, then the tiny cuts and scratches anywhere else she could see, even pulling his sleeves up just a little. "These things do not simply happen. They happen because someone is...careless."

It would be easy to think she was referring to him, but he caught the downturn of her lips and the little knot between her eyebrows. "Thena, there wasn't anything you could have done."

She tugged his sleeves down for him again, developing a hunch in her own usually immaculate posture. "I should have been out there watching her. I should have gone after her. You wouldn't have-"

"Thena, listen," he cut her off, happy to interrupt her this one and only time. "Look, I won't say it was easy to get her back. But are you capable of lifting half a horse's weight?"

She looked away, not that she really wanted to admit that she couldn't.

"If you had gone after Olympia I would have been out there trying to track both of you. Then it would just be the three of us stuck out there," he chuckled, imagining poor Thena trying to get Olympia's award winning haunches up a mudslide. "I'm glad you didn't have to."

"You do entirely too much for us." He wasn't sure if she meant 'us' as in the club as a whole, or just her and Olympia. And if she was referring to just herself and her mare, then she was entirely correct. It was almost enough for him to have to worry about favouritism. But not quite.

"I do my job, Thena," he corrected, still with a smile. She pursed her lips at him and he just this once admired how the pink colour of them caught the light. "The rest is just because Olympia is, like, my only friend here."

Thena paused for a minute before clearing her throat. He tilted his head but she swatted his hands away from her, "oh, your only friend?"

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow at him. She was unhappy to be excluded from that.

Gil blushed. "W-Well, I-I mean, I didn't, uh...wanna assume-"

Thena stood from the stool, swiping her lips over his cheek on her way up. "You are so adept at reading the horses, Gilgamesh. I suggest you brush up on your ability to read humans, as well."

Gil had to grin, although he successfully bit back a chuckle; that was rich coming from the Ice Queen. But he his cheek tingled and he felt like he had been given morphine, or maybe pure adrenaline. "I'll study up on that."

"Hm," Thena sufficed to say, collecting herself to leave as if she hadn't kissed his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world for her.

"Leaving so soon?" Ajak asked, catching her on her way out.

"I came to see how he was doing," Thena used in her own defense, looking down at Ajak and then back at Gil. She kept her expression unreadable but he liked to believe he could see a hint of a smile on her lips. "And he seems fine, now."

He was much more than fine, maybe the best he'd felt in months.

[aletheialed]

Edgeworth doesn't know how Wright does it.

Being a defense attorney is an... utterly thankless job. He's thought to himself on more than one occasion over the past few days that he needs to give Phoenix more credit for everything he does, because he's certainly been seeing him in a new light as of late. It's not like Edgeworth hasn't always been impressed by him, though. To him, Wright is...

...Well. That's a topic for another day. At least Edgeworth's back to acting as a prosecutor again now, and everything's finally settling down. Though whenever he thinks of the danger that Wright was in just a few days ago, almost losing his life... it makes Edgeworth's stomach twist in anxiety, and he can only remind himself that what he should be feeling now isn't fear, but relief.

There is... one other thing, though. Something that's been creeping up on his thoughts, that he's constantly forced to think about even when he desperately wants to pretend it's not there. And that... is the topic of the supernatural. Starting with the moment when he was given the magatama, and ending with him being witness to an honest-to-god spirit channeling... Edgeworth didn't really have the time or opportunity to be shocked back then, but when he thinks about it all now, sometimes it feels like his whole world is being turned upside-down.

Perhaps that's a bit dramatic, but... how else can he describe the feeling of realizing that that everything he thought he knew about the world - how it works, what's possible and impossible - has been a lie? On top of that, it feels like his mind keeps drifting back to the topic even more than it should be, as of late... it's frustrating, and though he won't admit it to himself - there's something more there, too. A kind of fear buried deep inside him. A strange sense of something being unearthed. It's... as if the moment he took that magatama, something awakened inside him that he can't yet understand...

...What ridiculous notions.

"Wright. You know, you really should be resting." While Edgeworth knows that Phoenix was given the all-clear from the hospital a while back, he can't help but say it anyway. "I've had a hard enough time adjusting myself. You're not still carrying that magatama around, are you?"

@lawbnd ( starter! )

[2ndbat]

@neonwebs sent:

“ My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined. ”

mixed bag sentence starters || accepting

"Your day is ruined?!" And things were going so well until... well... he wasn't even sure what happened exactly. There was a lot of blinding light and suddenly he wasn't in Gotham anymore.

Erica Coe, Black Spider-- was a hitman the Bat had been tailing for a while now. And finally he'd just had her on the ropes before they somehow ended up here. Wherever here was.

Terry had apparently been mistaken for the bad guy in this situation, since out of nowhere he'd been attacked by this stranger in a different spider costume.

Unfortunately for him, Coe decided to attack her rescuer when he came to release her from Batman's restraints. Now she had created some distance between them-- and her wrist mounted weapons were automatically trained on the two of them. Considering she had like six arms, and a weapon on each one, this wasn't going to be easy. "I nearly caught her before you showed up!"

He wasn't about to give up, but Batman was worn down from the first part of his fight with the hired assassin. And his com-link was no longer working as far as he could tell. So it was just him, Black Spider, and the other Spider. There was no telling who's side the latter was on either.

[echonidae]

Eïdjar my beloved... a cellshaded commission for Escapado-draw over on dA!! Esca proposed a challenge to work with interior decor/furniture, hence the more elaborate background — learned a lot working on this c: also just overjoyed to draw this lad again (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[missygoesmeow]

love that I can sit here listening to disney tunes while I draw unhinged babygirl covered in blood

[madamescarlette]

dearest Eden!!! been seeing some of your tags and I'm very curious to know what the premise of your "milk novel" is? if you're willing to share, of course :D

!!!!!! of course Lu, I'm so glad you asked!! thank you dearly for your interest 💖💖💕

so milk novel is one of my WIPs, and is probably the most constant in my brain! I've unfortunately had to draft the beginning chapters about three times at this point, and I started re-structuring it this summer so I'll be starting it again 😅 but the basic premise is that it is a story based around a person who doesn't know how to love or appreciate food (but wants desperately to!), and a chef who teaches him the ins and outs of what she loves about food so much and why it matters to her. It is ultimately a love story, but to me it has a whole world buried in it because I've gotten pretty obsessed with food and its plethora of meaning in the past few years; what it means for community, how it roots us in caring for ourselves and others, how it is in itself gift and grace that's been materialized for us.

What's funny about it is that the plot resembles almost nothing of what it originally was meant to be, 3-4 years ago- it started out life as a Snow White retelling, but it's morphed and changed as my influences have! But the definite themes have also deepened a great deal, and I'm glad for that- the main theme I wanted to touch on from the get-go was forgiveness, but now I understand a little better that what I want to delve into is what it means to try and forgive something that is unforgivable, how you can move on from something that changed you irrevocably and without your truly okaying it! At least, that is my female lead's theme- my male lead's theme is a bit more of, well, what it means to care for yourself when you have consumed your soul in caring for others your entire life and now you don't know what to do / are set adrift without them guiding you.

It also has a lot of strangeness and interest to me now because in a way I've flip-flopped from which of them I feel most like- when I crafted it, I felt most like Catalina, and then went through a rough year and became Declan, and now I'm back to being Cat again. The cycle of life, I suppose!! It's also funny, because I definitely started it with the intent to create a romcom, but in writing it I've found that I...can't write lightness very well. I'm a very jokey person, so I always thought it would come naturally to me, but in truth my writing always shines best when it comes from a place of reaching towards the light, and that reaching towards the light is most possible from contrast. So it's definitely gotten sadder as I've gone on! But all in all, I have hope that it will turn out into something gentle and kind and true.

if I could just sit down and write it, that is

[countlessrealities]

@advnterccs sent: 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 + my Rick { For your Rick // he decided that he didn't want to waste the chance to be flirted with } Smash/Kiss or Pass

The smirk that opens on Rick's face is so wide that it must hurt his cheeks at least a little. Yet, he seems completely unbothered, ice blue eyes shining enthusiastically with slyness.

There isn't a day that goes by without him wanting to dote on his boyfriend, and this is the perfect chance to do it.

"W-Wait, shit, let me get this straight," he starts off in an obviously fake confused tone. He's not even trying to hide the fact that he is adding, but even if he had, his expression would have betrayed him anyway. "Y-You're asking me i-if I wanna smash that particular Rick?"

He made a show of widening his eyes in mock shock, going as far as to bring a hand to his chest.

"T-The smartest, hottest, most handsome man o-of the goddamn multiverse? T-The guy who's a fuckin' sex god? D-Do you have any idea of how great he is? 'C-Cause I do. B-Best lay I've ever had. I-I have to make an effort not to make comparison, b-because he fuckin' ruined hook-ups for me."

This sounds like an exaggeration, and maybe it is, in a way. He can still sleep around with whoever and have a good time. He still does, especially when he is craving something a human, even one with their intelligence, can't give you. However, there's something special about how he and his boyfriend come together, something that makes it different from every other experience, something that makes it unique.

"An-And those eyes, fuck. I-I could stare at them all day an-and never get bored. H-He's so fuckin' gorgeous. An-And don't get me started about what his voice does to me, w-when his using this one particular tone. O-Or on how he can make me feel shit I-I thought I'd never experience again."

Contentment, peace of mind, happiness, love. A sense of belonging. The will to live and not just survive for the sake of a hopeless cause.

"H-He's the love of my life. T-The best thing that has every happened to me. H-He's my fuckin' miracle. M-My soulmate. H-He is...everything."

His expression softens for a moment, losing all the slyness and playfulness that had filled both it and his tone till before the last few sentences. It lasts for a moment and then his mask is on again, but it's enough to show just how painfully, wonderfully true those words are for him.

"W-Why the hell are you even asking? A-As if the answer could be more fuckin' obvious."

A pause, just for the sake of dramatics.

"G-Gonna smash him for forever an-and a thousand years."

[onyourstageleft]

one of my favorite parts of being an adult with stable & disposable income is doing little things for my friends. husband's best friend tells the group chat that he lost his job? hubs and I message each other at the same time to go "imma send him money for snacks." we've been playing fortnite with our partner and her sister & her sister is the only one without battle pass? consider it gifted. these people have been here for me for the last 4+ years and we were all riding the struggle bus together in college, it makes me so happy to be able to give them a little bit of happiness especially when I don't get to see them in person that much anymore

[iysics]

.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

[waterlinkedgirl]

No questions. Just wanted to say thank you so much for doing TouMyu subs! I hope you have a great week. Would be glad to help time subs if you ever need it!

Waaa, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy them!! I'll make it a week that counts! 💪✨

Unfortunately, timing subs for me is the same as proofreading my own subtitles, so while I really appreciate the offer I'm afraid it's part of my workflow ;-;