#because everything is too heavy to move. your limbs. the sheets. your responsibilities.

[ethan-elliott]

getting out of bed? I think you mean escaping a Buried domain

[yasministration]

hands full - harry potter

summary: sex with harry potter makes you lose your ability to think, even when his mother is speaking to him on the other side of the locked door. 1.3k words of basically pure filth. porn and no plot. cw: almost getting caught? kind of? concussions and interruptions au - can be read as a standalone

The oxygen in the room was heavy, barely making its way into your lungs with every slow shove of his pelvis into yours, your skin dragging upwards in a pinch with the force of Harry’s moving hips, rolling over the bones of yours with bruising potential. Moans were fluidly tumbling out of your lips, like a chant, a prayer of some sort that no one could prevent.

Harry’s hair tickled the skin of your neck, his hot breath pulsating against the layer of sweat coating you. He murmured sweet words, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It was half for himself, half for you. “Oh, you’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” That one got a particularly loud keen from your, your hips bucking up to meet his as you clenched around his cock. “My perfect girl” He added with a moan.

“You feel so good.” You whimpered with your own praise, nails dragging across the wet skin of his back. His muscles contracted under your harsh touch, everything else about the situation so sweet and gentle. One of Harry’s big hands reached down to curl underneath your thigh, pulling it up to mirror your other leg, folded up with your foot flat against the sheets. He manhandled your limbs, spreading your legs wider for him to reach deeper crevices of your cunt, constantly leaking around his erection to encourage his movements.

Harry didn’t pry anything out of you; one glance your way had him confirming that you were too deep in pleasure to respond to anything he had to say. A particularly loud moan flew between your lips, Harry’s cock reaching just that much further into you, nearing your cervix. Harry groaned as your hand snaked into his hair, massaging his scalp. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, though he continued to lazily thrust into you.

The atmosphere in the room completely stilled for a moment, both of you pausing to ensure you heard the same thing - a knock on the door.

“Harry, you in here?”

Harry rose off you, and his cock plunged further into you. You bit your lip, a noise of pleasure vibrating in your throat at the feeling. Your boyfriend’s eyes widened, and he pressed a strong hand over your mouth, shooting you a panicked look. “Yeah mum! In here!” Harry shut his eyes briefly, pulling his hips out again at a sluggish pace, but he saw the effect it had on you when his eyes fluttered open again; head digging into the pillow, your mouth parting beneath the palm of his hand.

“Is y/n here?” She asked, pressing her ear to the door to hear your responses from inside. Harry gasped quietly, inhaling deeply as he pushed back into you, calling out “Yeah, she’s here!” Giving you a pointed look, Harry withdrew his hand from over your mouth, and you gripped his wrist to ground you, saying loudly “Hi!” It was all you could muster.

The door handle rattled as Lily Potter tried entering her son’s room, eyebrows furrowing when it didn’t open. “Well, let me come in and say hi!” Harry’s hand returned to your mouth as he leaned his weight on you again, praying that his mum would get the hint and go away. “I can’t open the door, my hands are full!”

“Let y/n open the door then.” Oh, she was clueless. Harry groaned, a mix of pleasure and frustration. He saw your eyes widen in shock, one of your hands over the one he had on your mouth, keeping him in place. You shook your head as well as you could. Harry huffed into the crook of your neck. “Mum,” He began with an obviously annoyed whine, “She can’t open the door, her hands are also full.”

The startled “Oh” that came from the other side of the door was barely audible to you, because Harry had decided to silence himself by sucking on the skin of your neck. Unfortunately for you, it just made it more difficult to stay quiet, your hips twitching upwards at the added friction. Harry kept an ear out for his mother’s subsiding footsteps before finally whispering filthily “Yeah baby, I know you want to cum.” And luckily for you, he removed the hand from your mouth — now coated with saliva — and used two fingers to rub harsh circles on your clit, immediately making your legs twitch around his torso.

“Can you try being quiet?” He peeked up from the dark crook of your neck where he was hidden, grinning when you nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed as you chewed on your bottom lip, trying your best not to make any noises. Your breathing was heavy, and your hands moved to grasp each of Harry’s biceps, nails digging into his supple skin as he continued working you towards your orgasm.

“Harry” You whined, trying to turn your face towards him, trying to communicate to him that you were close. “Oh, I know baby, I know.” He whispered, separating his lips from your neck to bring you into a kiss. You gasped loudly, back arching off the mattress, pushing your chest into his as one of your hands returned to grip his hair, pushing him further into the kiss. Harry’s cock twitched inside you and you were grateful to know you weren’t the only one nearing your orgasm.

Harry forced his tongue into your mouth, tongue gliding against yours. Your brain took too long to communicate with your body from the exhaustion, and you were barely able to kiss him back, but Harry took control of the messy kiss, revelling in the rare sloppiness you kissed him with. Fuck, he was turned on by merely knowing the effect he had on you.

“Gonna cum, Harry.” You warned in a shaky whisper, tilting your head back to make space between your lips and Harry’s. “Cum for me, baby.” His rough fingertips on your clit drove you past the edge, body stiffening in a storm of white-hot pleasure, washing over you with a force you couldn’t explain if you tried. But now, you submitted to the pleasure of your orgasm, hearing Harry’s guttural moan in your ear as his head dropped down to rest on your shoulder, cock driving into you to the hilt, his entire body freezing with the exception of his hips, stuttering into you while he emptied his load into you.

“I love you.” Harry moaned loudly, his body going limp on top of yours, chest to chest with you as your legs fell flat on the bed around his torso. It took you a while to come back to your senses, fingers brushing Harry’s hair away from his face as you finally replied “I love you too.” Your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed hotly at the realisation that he had admitted to loving you balls-deep inside you. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but the hundreds of other times these three important words had been said were all while fully sober, not drunk on pussy.

“I need to go say hi to your mum.” At the mention of his mother, Harry felt his cock soften inside you, and he pulled out with a groan, flopping next to you on the bed. You turned your head to the side, pressing a kiss on Harry’s cheek before struggling out of bed. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, then go say hello.”

Harry perked up, pushing himself up on his elbows, his gaze following your naked body across his room. “Shower?” He repeated, a silent question lingering in the air. You rolled your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips as you opened the door to his bathroom. “Yes, you can join.”

Harry scrambled up, leaping over the other side of his bed so he could catch up to you before you shut the bathroom door in his face.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @potterheadlovespotter, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @hisparentsgallerryy, @liviessun, @rory-cakes, @heebiemcjeebies, @fl0weryannie, @muffinemmaa, @anne061989, @regsg18, @graciereads, @adharaoaklyn, @hawaii2320, @c0ldstvff, @bigbodycity, @starmaniii, @urmom101, @simpfortoomanymen, @ennaholic, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @eunicefrogsandfoes, @dreamamubarak, @quinquinquincy, @vxyselectric, @xmatcha-kitty13, @liliemb04, @crowleythesexydemon, @lovelyygirl8, @matcha-kitty13, @dlljdhsh, @yegrnn, @thenasoneshots, @marauder-era6779, @xadenswhore, @5sospenguinqueen

[royal-cupidity]

girl, could you do a touch starved senku oneshot? GN reader please

Cling Radius:

(Word Count: 736 // Spoilers: none)

The nights out here were colder than you remembered. Not colder in temperature—though, granted, sleeping in an open-roofed hut was a far cry from central heating—but colder in tone. Quiet in that eerie, ancient way. No distant hum of city lights, no soft rumble of traffic. Just crickets. And the occasional howl that sounded way too close.

Still, none of that explained why Senku was pressed to your back like a goddamn second skin.

You blinked up at the thatched ceiling, eyes adjusting to the moonlight spilling in from above, your limbs still half-asleep. Senku was out cold behind you, chest rising in slow, steady rhythm, one arm draped heavy over your middle, the other wedged under your neck like a makeshift pillow. His long legs were tangled with yours in a mess of barely-washed sheets, and he smelled faintly of charcoal and mint leaves.

You didn’t dare move.

Not because you didn’t want to. But because you were still trying to process what the hell this was.

When you were revived, the first thing you remembered—after the scream-inducing sensation of skin cracking back to life—was Senku’s face hovering above yours, tense but relieved. He’d cracked some stupid science joke, you’d flipped him off, and everything had felt strangely normal.

Except… it wasn’t.

Because Senku, for all his scientific detachment and emotionally stunted habits pre-petrification, had not stopped touching you since.

A guiding hand at your lower back. A shoulder bump when no one else was watching. Fingers brushing yours when he passed tools or water. A low, murmured “You good?” as his knuckles barely grazed your jaw to check your fever that didn’t exist. And now—this. Night after night of you waking up basically cocooned in the human version of a space heater with freakishly pointy hair.

You tilted your head slightly. His breath was warm against your neck. A little uneven now that you were shifting.

“Senku,” you whispered, just to see if he was awake.

No response. He only curled tighter.

His hand slid from your waist to your stomach, fingers splaying out like he was subconsciously making sure you were still there. You wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

You bit your lip and held still a little longer. Not out of awkwardness anymore, but out of… curiosity.

Because, yeah. Before the whole stone-world and de-petrification and war stuff, Senku wouldn’t have touched you with a ten-foot pole unless it involved CPR or slapping a lab coat on you. He wasn’t cold, not exactly—but his mind was always elsewhere. Always calculating. Intimacy wasn’t a formula he prioritized.

Now?

Now, he curled around you like the night would take you away.

Eventually, his voice—low and cracked with sleep—broke the silence.

“You’re overthinking again.”

You flinched. “You're awake?”

“Barely,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your shoulder. His nose was freezing. “But I can feel your heartbeat trying to vibrate through the dirt floor. It's annoying.”

You were silent for a beat. “You’re literally clinging to me.”

“Because you were cold.”

“I wasn't cold.”

“You could’ve been.”

“…You really think that holds up as logic?”

Senku gave a sleepy scoff, which somehow translated into a snort and a hum. “Shut up. Let me have this.”

You blinked at the ceiling again, mouth twitching.

“So what—post-petrification side effect is... extreme clinginess?”

“Maybe,” he muttered. “Brain’s the same. Body’s not. People change.”

You let out a breath, soft. “You used to be so weird about touch.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, barely audible now, his fingers twitching once against your stomach before relaxing, “you’re here now.”

That quieted you.

Because it wasn’t said dramatically. It wasn’t even said sweetly. It was just true. And in that moment, it hit you: in this war-torn, half-dead, primitive second life, Senku had lost a lot. Most things, maybe. But you? You were one of the few things he got back.

And apparently, he wasn’t planning on letting you go again.

“…Do you do this with everyone?” you teased lightly, trying to shake off the tight feeling in your chest.

“Hell no,” he said without missing a beat.

And you felt his arm tighten around you again—like an instinct. Like a reflex.

“Just you,” he added, softer this time. “Don’t make it weird.”

Too late, you thought, cheeks warming.

But you didn’t move. You didn’t want to.

Not when his touch—awkward, unconscious, needy—was the warmest thing left in this world.

[melancholiclongnights]

She loved everything black.

Her coffee, strong and bitter, burning its way down her throat like a secret she would never confess. Her clothes, heavy fabrics in endless shades of darkness, cloaking her body like a mourning veil she never took off. The sky at midnight, vast and infinite, the stars barely daring to shine. Her thoughts, twisting and turning through shadowy corridors where no light dared follow. She adored the color black not because it was empty, but because it was full. Full of echoes. Full of depth. Full of pain. To her, black was not the absence of color. It was the presence of everything unsaid.

She believed that if you stared long enough into true blackness, it would begin to show you things. Secrets. Wounds. Your own reflection, maybe. And she had stared long enough to see hers. What she saw haunted her. Her reflection was not beautiful or bold. It was warped. Empty. Distant. A stranger with tired eyes and trembling lips. She could hear a violin playing somewhere in her memory. The melody soft, slow, almost apologetic. Once, she had played that violin with joy, turning sheet music into sunlight. But now, in her mind, it played only sorrow. Each note was a tear. Each pause was a goodbye.

There was a time when life felt like an open field. She had dreams then. Or at least, she believed she did. She thought love was real and that people meant what they said. She laughed until her ribs ached and believed that her laughter mattered. She chased passions like butterflies, gentle and curious. She thought if she ran fast enough, she would catch happiness.

Now, life was nothing more than a fog she wandered through. A quiet torment that grew louder with each passing day. The noise in her head was constant. A siren without a source. Screams without sound. The world spoke to her in demands and deadlines, in responsibilities and regrets. But inside, there was only static.

She sat still for hours, trying to remember when the rot began. When did the light go out in her chest? When did her dreams become heavy? Why did her footsteps feel like failures?

And then the truth, sharp and cold, arrived like an uninvited guest.

She never had dreams. She never knew joy. She was pretending all along, smiling in photographs with hollow cheeks and glassy eyes. She had lied so well, even she believed herself for a while. But masks are heavy, and hers had cracked.

With a dull ache in her limbs, she moved to her desk. The same desk that once held her aspirations now held only dust and discarded thoughts. Her fingers grazed the notebook lying there. She opened it slowly, as if afraid the words inside might scream. Pages filled with forgotten lectures. Scribbled doodles. Crumpled poems that read like confessions. And then, a folded note.

She stared at it.

The ink had faded, but the intention remained. It was her farewell letter, written on a night when the pain in her chest had been too loud to ignore. A letter meant for the ones who once claimed to love her. She read it again, waiting for the ache, waiting for a tear, a heartbeat, a reason to stay.

Nothing came.

That was the cruelest part. The nothingness. The silence within her had grown so deep that even her own goodbye felt like someone else’s story. She was becoming unrecognizable. Not just to others, but to herself. Emotions had left her. Love, anger, even fear. All gone. She functioned like a machine powered by the ghosts of what she used to feel.

She crawled back to the corner of her room. The same corner she always returned to when life felt too heavy. Her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes scanned the space around her. Her sanctuary turned prison. She did not recognize it. She did not recognize herself.

Her hand reached for the pill bottle.

She swallowed a few, not because she hoped for healing, but out of habit. There was a time when she believed in those pills. When she followed instructions, when she gave doctors the benefit of the doubt. Seven years had passed since that first prescription. Seven years of trying. Seven years of hoping. Seven years of being told it would get better.

It never did.

She changed everything. The medications. The therapists. The cities. The faces around her. The walls of her room. She carved herself into different versions, begging one of them to feel whole. Yet the cloud remained. That black storm followed her no matter where she ran. It hovered above her, rained on her, burned her skin with invisible fire. Her tears were acid. Her sorrow had weight.

People called her strong. They admired her perseverance. They never saw the scars she buried beneath her sleeves. They did not know about the violin case she had hidden above the wardrobe, too high to reach, where she had buried her passion. Alongside it, her tennis racket. Her childhood teddy bear. A shoebox stuffed with pictures and letters and memories she could no longer look at. It was her graveyard.

Sometimes she stared at it for hours, wondering if maybe there was something up there worth saving. But she always remembered that the past was not golden. It was grey. And grey, though softer than black, was still cold.

She stood up slowly. Her muscles protested. Her soul, quieter than ever. She made her way to the bathroom and turned on the water. Hot. Scorching. Unbearable to anyone else. She peeled off her clothes with no emotion, her eyes avoiding the mirror. She could not look at her body. Not tonight.

She remembered the names they used to call her. The whispers in the hallway. The way her grandmother pinched her cheeks and told her no one would love her like this. The way her mother sighed in disappointment every time she changed in front of her. Her body was a battlefield. Her skin a diary of every insult, every disappointment, every time she took a blade to her skin just to feel something that made sense.

She stepped into the tub. The water bit her skin. She welcomed the sting. Pain was easier. Pain was real.

She stayed there for hours, letting the heat invade her veins. Her mind drifted. Would things be different somewhere else? Somewhere quieter? Somewhere warmer?

But she had already been somewhere else. She had already chased escape. New cities. New homes. New people.

And misery always unpacked her bags first.

She realized, with a hollow laugh, that it was not the place. It was her. It was always her. She was the curse. Her mind was the prison. Her body was the cell.

And so she made the decision.

This time, she would make it work. Not her life. Her death.

She had spent weeks preparing. Maybe more. Slowly deleting her digital presence. Erasing herself from photographs. Cutting off her friends so that it would hurt less when she was gone. Maybe they would forget her faster. Maybe they would pretend she never existed at all.

She had saved money. Not for the future. For her final act.

She would travel. Go somewhere far. Somewhere quiet. She would order a drink. Maybe two. Light a cigarette or a pack. Sit alone in her favorite cafe. Breathe in the silence. Watch the sky shift from violet to gold.

And when the sun began to rise, she would climb the hill.

The same hill she once stood on as a child, dreaming of who she might become.

She would stand there one last time.

Not to dream. But to say goodbye.

The sun would rise. The birds would sing. The world would begin again.

And she would fall.

One miserable soul slipping into silence.

That was her plan.

Not to leave in sorrow. But to leave in stillness. In peace. In the closest thing to happiness she could find.

The end was not tragic to her. It was the only thing that ever made sense.

The final, beautiful tragedy.

And it would begin with sunrise.

[certifiedskywalker]

Rest Easy - Anakin Skywalker

Anakin is all too familiar with restless sleep. So, when he sees just how tired you are, he offers to help.

“There’s that look again.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before you flicked your eyes up from the data display. Statistics and statement pieces still swirled about your vision, even as you met Anakin’s gaze. His brow was furrowed, in the way it always seemed to be since the Clone War began. Only, in that moment, as he looked at you, there was a softness in his eyes that threw your thoughts far from the image of him in battle. Such a gentleness had no place among the blaster fire and metallic corpses of droids.

“Sorry, what?”

“That look,” Anakin echoed, raising a hand to gesture to your face. “You’re either displeased or thinking too hard.”

A stunted, sour laugh slipped past your lips. “Or both.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked, leaning over across the table, hand outstretched for you to take. Slowly, you moved to meet him in the middle to intertwine your fingers with his. Warm, the skin of his palm kissed yours in the mildest way, melted the ache behind your eyes, and relieved some of the heaviness of your limbs.

“Reviewing old legislation is neither entertaining nor easy on the mind,” you gave Anakin’s hand a squeeze. “That’s all, though. Nothing I can’t work through.” “It has nothing to do with how you were tossing around last night?”

You quirked a brow at him in question and Anakin leaned back, his hand slipping from yours. A frown quivered along your lips at the loss of contact, but the loss was brief. Anakin stood from his seat across the sleek, metal table and started towards you. The dark folds of his tunics shifted with every step that brought him closer to you. When he was within arms reach, he pressed his hip against the table’s edge and leaned down towards you.

“You didn’t sleep, so I didn’t sleep,” he murmured. “Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N.”

As he spoke, his eyes held contact with yours, unyielding, reading your every microexpression. You knew the second you swallowed too hard that Anakin saw your resolve break. Memories of kicking your legs under the soft sheets of your bed, tossing from side to side, flooded back to you. Anakin must have seen those same memories too because he nodded, all too knowingly. “Tell me, let me help you.” There was never any hiding from him. “Unless you can lift the weight of thousands displaced by the war and convince the Senate to provide for them, then there’s not much helping me,” you explained. “Padme’s proposal is necessary but the precedents for it...they’re nonexistent. At least according to everything I’ve read.”

The thought of all the reading you had done nearly made your throat close up. Endless pages of Basic, detailing every piece of humanitarian legislation passed by the Senate had absorbed you, mind and body, for the past few planetary cycles. Yet, despite all that time, your research had come up empty. There were no prior models that you and the rest of Padme’s team could use to base her new, improved plan off of.

“So, you have to start from nothing?” Anakin asked, putting voice to your whirling thoughts.

Bitterly, you nodded and let your eyes fall from his. “Yes, and when you phrase it in that way, it sounds even more dire.” “Sorry, you know,” Anakin’s fingers hooked under your chin and lifted your gaze back to him, “it’s not a doomed idea. You make things real.”

“But not without a precedent,” you countered, “this is something new.”

“We’re in a new galaxy, a new Republic,” Anakin pressed. “Now is the best time to push progress forward.”

You couldn’t help the smile at his persistence. “Careful, you’re beginning to sound like a senator’s speech. Padme may enlist you.” “I’m enlisted in a different war,” he replied, his hand moving along your jaw to cup your cup. “One with fewer speeches.”

You frowned at his words before you pressed a kiss to the meat of his palm. In response, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards ever-so-slightly, but not for long. When his lips fell down again, Anakin stepped closer, letting you feel the warmth of his body more fully. He leaned in closer too, waves of light brown hair falling to frame his face. “Tell me what I can do.”

“I did,” you sighed, eyes flicking from his to his lips. “Save the people.” “I’m trying, with every battle, but what can I do for you, right now? How can I get you to rest easy?” A grin broke out along your features the second the thought entered your head. Anakin seemed to sense it, part of you wondered if it was the Force. Perhaps he used it to help read you, read your mind even. But no, that wasn’t it. It was just Anakin, the bond you shared that gifted you both with a sort of secret language. Either way, he knew what you were going to say before you opened your mouth.

That didn’t stop you from saying it anyway: “I know one way you could help.” A rumble of a chuckle raced up his throat, a sound that you quickly swallowed when you leaned forward to close the little gap between you. Your lips found his as if you were never parted, to begin with, like being close was your natural state and separated being a foreign condition. Using his hand and, this time you were sure of it, the Force, Anakin pulled you up from your seat until you were standing. As he did, his other hand came up to the other side of your face so that he could hold you impossibly close.

“Would you believe me,” Anakin managed to whisper when you parted for air, “if I told you this wasn’t my initial intention?”

His teasing tone, like the warmth of his hand in yours had only a minute before, lifted your tired spirits. Any hint of exhaustion alleviated, if only for a precious few seconds. A laugh, one truer and lighter than the first, slipped past your lips. Anakin laugh again too and renewed every nerve ending fried by work. You leaned in again, for another kiss. His lips move fluidly against yours, soft and warm.

Then, when you pulled away, you replied, “no, but I’m alright with that.”

[bloomyagi]

bleed me dry (m)

summary: where Itadori is your bottom-loving boyfriend and Sukuna reluctantly learns this vessel is the real curse. or: where seduction is a dangerous game, and the King of Curses loses.

pairings: itadori x f!reader, sukuna x f!reader

warnings: subby itadori, sub sukuna (yeah you read that right), light bondage, blindfolds, sukuna’s havin a whole ‘reconsidering life’s meaning’ moment, lotta swear cause u know sukuna things, coming untouched, he faints (yeah you also read that right) and is actually unabashed about it, all things considered

length: 1,432

notes: what? me? obsessed with jjk? that doesn’t sound like me at all! 

.

.

.

His vessel is in love.

The word curdles in his mouth, tastes like ash. He has never known such a thing. It is part of his nature, he muses absently. Hardened from centuries of death and decay. Of destruction and war. He revels in it. Feels the most alive amongst the chaos.

But that’s the point. Curses can feel. They can have emotional attachment. Can’t you see? In so many ways, they’re not so different from us. He thinks you’re too loud. Your thoughts and beliefs are too loud. They’re also pointless and naïve, and he likes to pop by just to drive it home.

Hello, Sukuna. Where is the fear? Where is the resentment, the anger? The disgust? He enjoys it. But you—you just sit there and coax him into conversation like he’s another one of your classmates. Like he can’t crush your windpipe with a single flick of his hand. Like he isn’t the slow bleed of a death sentence for your lover. Like he isn’t anything at all. Like his titles and powers are stripped. What is he beyond it all? Who is he?

You ask about him sometimes. He rarely gives any indication he’s listening, but he does. Of course he does. There’s not much to do, bound and locked in this pink-haired boy. He lounges on this throne and watches his vessel pine and blush.

Sukuna watches his vessel fuck his fist and mewl your name every night.

It’s sad. “Brat,” he hisses. “Grow some balls. This is just pathetic.”

Itadori swallows. “Oh. Can you—?”

Sukuna shoves him off the ledge. A faint yelp travels, followed by a large splash. “Fuck her already. All this sitting and plotting is making my ass itch. If you won’t, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sukuna tilts his head to peer down. Itadori’s eyes are narrowed, uncharacteristically solemn.

His lips bare into a slow grin. “Try me.”

Itadori blinks once. And then vanishes.

.

.

.

Fuck. It’s the only coherent thought his muddled mind can pierce together. He gazes down at his palm, opening and closing languidly. His vision is blurry, spine tingling. He raises the other hand, reaching for his palm.

Mmm. He shakes his head firmly. The sharp tinge of metallic and iron coating his tongue clears the fog a little. The pain fades quickly, muted from his years of conquest and ruin.

Every nerve is on fire. His skin, this flesh cage, burns, an unfamiliar heat curling in his lower stomach. Sukuna is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh—is well-acquainted, spent much of the centuries indulging in his vast harems. In the haze of blood and carnage, there is the memory of writhing bodies, of soft thighs and breasts, of glazed eyes and cries of his name. Of women fucked into wanton abandon, bred and lost in the worship of his cock.

But this. This heat is foreign in every sense. In its strange intensity and all-encompassing hold. All his senses are heightened but laser focused on the other pair of hands mapping his body. On the addicting sensations they’re inducing.

Can you—? Yes. Yes, he fucking can. He can feel everything and he wants to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze.

His eyes roll back. Ngh.

“Fucking wench,” he snarls. You’re a fuckin’ tease and if you edge him again, he is going to murder—

“Ah, ah. Watch your language, Sukuna. Ask nicely.”

He jolts. Finds his eyes cloaked in darkness, arms tied to his back and legs spread. Bare, save for a pair of briefs that’s slick and restricting. Kneeling. The sheets bunch beneath him. Every muscle in his body is tensed, body coated in a thin layer of sweat.

This position—!

“That brat—mmph!” Is that a fucking—gag? Did you just gag him? He struggles harder against the binds, but he feels your lips curl into a smile where you’re suckling against the column of his neck.

“You’re powerless here. The binds will restrict you for the next twenty-four hours … unless you can be good.” You trace the thick knots, smiling only growing at the way he lets out a muffled growl.

Every fucking sense is heightened tenfold. He’s on firefirefire. The flames consuming him inside out, like he’s being exorcised from within.  

It’s humiliating. It’s exhilarating. It feels—

“King of Curses. I want you to beg.” You’re a witch. You’re enthralling. Temptation incarnate. His head falls forward, chest heaving.

“Mmmmf!”

“What a dirty mouth,” you murmur, and his struggling is renewed when he feels your fingers dig into his thighs.

Oi, brat, he growls. What the hell is this?

His vessel is silent, but the back of his mind prickles. He’s watching. That freaky little shit.

“So stubborn. Let go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Fuckfuckfuck, you’re palming his cock over the thin fabric. Maybe it’s been a while, maybe there’s a little more truth lurking beneath it, but he vaguely notes he’s never been so hard before.

You—! You’re fuckin’ burning his briefs off. Ash tickles his nose. A small part of him thinks it’s hot. His cock throbs, and even without visual confirmation, he knows you’ve paused at the sheer size. His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, dark pride making his chest swell. What was he so worked up for? You’ll just end being another one of his breeding bitches, fucked stupid by his thick, long cock.

But then you pinch his left nipple, twisting harshly. Electricity courses through him and a sound he’s never heard in his absurdly long life escape his lips, muffled by the gag. His back arcs, head hitting the mattress beneath him.

His mind blanks, eyes rolling back as white noise fills his ears.

.

.

.

He rouses slowly.

He blinks lethargically at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. Everything feels muted, limbs heavy like he’s swimming in a pool of ink. But he’s not restrained anymore. There’s a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to peer at you, half-lidded.

“That’s a very nice expression,” you chuckle, moving to sit by his side. The mattress dips lightly. He lifts a hand to tug at the hem of your outfit, expression twisting at the staggering movement.

“That’s a very nice look on you,” he murmurs in response. You’re wearing one of his vessel’s dress shirts, the oversized fabric falling mid-thigh. It simultaneously swallows you and presses against your curves. Something inside him stirs. His throat feels shot, even though he knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak.

You help him sit up, propped against the headrest, before offering him a glass of water. His lips lift into a half-smirk and you sigh, shaking your head but acquiescing. You take a mouthful before kissing him. Water dribbles down his chin.

You wipe it away with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. His chest tightens.

“How long—?” He tries to move, but you stop him with a firm hand. He’s conflicted at the way his body responds immediately to the touch. His temperature flares despite his obvious fatigue.

“A few hours. I asked if Yuuji would keep you out until you woke.”

There’s a pause, and the knowing look in your eye tells him you know he’s mulling it over.

And then—

He reaches for you, and you set the glass aside to climb on his lap.

He bares his fangs. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As you press him into the bed, tongue stroking his in such a manner his brain is starting to haze over again quickly, he thinks, brat, we’re going to have a long talk after this.

Sukuna doesn’t expect an answer after his vessel’s continued vigil, so he starts when Itadori replies, she’s ours.

I don’t share, he slurs. He thinks he sees a flicker of Itadori’s grin.

You’re going to have to. Because you like her, too. And she’s the one in control, not either of us.

Dimly, Sukuna acknowledges he’s right. You might be the one bouncing on his cock, but he’s not the one fucking you, you’re the one fucking him.

Fine, he gasps as you run your nails down his abdomen. Deal.

Good, his vessel says. Because I’m next, and you better not get in the way.

He growls, eyebrows knitting.

Your smile only grows.

[hawnks]

taking care

izuku midoriya x reader

r18 (mdni)

word count: 1,700

sometimes his work takes izuku away for long periods of time. but he’s more than willing (eager, hungry) to make it up to you when he’s home

[pro-hero deku, dom/sub undertones, “good girl”, overstim, smut & fluff, possessive and loving <3]

..................................................................................

Izuku dotes on you. It honestly gets ridiculous sometimes. He’s so willing to do anything to make your life easier, insisting on grabbing whatever you need from the other room so you don’t have to get up, opening doors, jars, coats, making sure everything you want is stocked in his apartment. He learned how to style hair so he could take care of it for you on the mornings after he fucked you silly wore you out. Once when you were out walking together he noticed your shoelace came untied and dropped to his haunches to redo it for you. The paparazzi had a field day with that one.

You’ve been teased to no end for your boyfriend’s absolute devotion. Not to the extent he has, of course (“Fucking whipped” Katsuki sneers. Izuku can only shrug, pay him a blithe smile in answer). Some may accuse you of being willfully co-dependent, but over the course of your relationship you’ve learned that the best way to make up for those days his job keeps him away is to indulge. Frequently, and deeply.��

Izuku loves to take care of you. You love to be taken care of. Easy. Simple.

Easy and simple to wriggle closer to him in your shared bed, leg flexing gently between his. Easy and simple to press more and more of your weight into him until he wakes with a soft sigh.

Normally you’d feel bad about taking any sleep from him —- lord knows he needs it. But tomorrow is his day off, a full 24 hours where the two of you can laze around and do absolutely nothing. And your boyfriend doesn’t seem upset, meeting you halfway, pulling you on top of him with a gentle squeeze around your waist.

He noses at your temple. “Can’t sleep?”

The genuine concern in his voice is endearing. You sink further into his hold, smiling as he lets out a soft hum in return.

His fingers tease the hemline of your sleep shirt, his nails dragging gently against your skin. He murmurs, “What’s the matter, honey?”

If the hour was earlier, or if you were any less touch starved, you might have approached this differently. Basked in his concern. But all you can think about is the hands petting you so carefully, the firm thighs splitting your own. You snake a hand down, palm brushing his belly, right where you know that little line of hair leading to his groin begins.

He jolts. You would have slipped off him entirely if his grip hadn’t gone steely. His voice is a little deeper, a little less gentle when he says, “Oh?”

It’s been too long for him too, evidenced by the way he’s already starting to tent his pants. You nuzzle against his collar bone, hand creeping toward his burgeoning cock. You whisper, “Yeah.”

Still, his touch is tender when he raises a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “What do you need, baby?”

You turn your head, kiss the thumb that’s drawing slowly away. “Make me cum, Izuku.”

When you finally start to palm him, he just lays there for a minute, letting you explore. His hands tense on you intermittently, his breath hitching whenever you squeeze. Finally he tilts his body, letting you slide off with a hand on your back guiding you down, at the same time he slinks down your body.

Izuku has an almost cat-like grace to the way he moves, a fluidity earned through years of training. It had taken him a while to grow into his body, to understand the mechanics of it, but he knows exactly what he’s capable. Exactly how to use himself.

You barely register him slipping off your panties, raising a leg to prop on his shoulder. He presses a line of kisses to the crease of your thigh, sighing. 

“Missed you,” he says.

You card a hand through his hair, scratch lightly at his scalp. “Missed you more.”

His kisses get bigger, wetter, as they trail toward your core. You buck when he finally gets to your pussy, sucking ever so slightly. You’re impatient, but it doesn’t matter. Izuku is mouthing at your clit, lips nibbling, and even that is enough to pull you into a small orgasm.

He doesn’t stop as you writhe, building up as you ride it out so you don’t even know when his touch got so firm, when his tongue started laving at your opening in smooth, slick glides. You twist, and his grip tightens. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you still. Enough to keep you steady for him to take what he wants. 

“More?” he says, but it’s muffled by your skin—-he doesn’t give you a chance to answer.

Your second peak comes quick, just as the first is beginning to taper off and you can feel the full breadth of sensations returning. You’re so wet that it’s dripping onto the sheets, and Izuku isn’t helping as he gets sloppy now, mouth covering as much area as possible, soft and moist and warm. You’re almost frantic with the sensation, hips continually bucking against his hold, but Izuku still takes his time, licking up all he can, moaning anytime you squeeze around his tongue. All eager and hungry, all covetous.

You cum again, a whole body clench that makes you arch over his head, your legs squeezing his temples. The licks grow kittenish and gentle, easing you down. His fingers replace his mouth, a slow glide, hardly any pressure at all as he draws back, wipes his mouth off with his free wrist.

He just looks at you for a moment, gaze heavy on your face, your parted lips, your drawn brow. He looks at your heaving chest, your belly as it continues to tremble slightly. He lets out a soft sigh. He bites his lip. You can’t see him as well in the dark, but you know he must be blushing. You know his pupils are blown wide.

He kisses your navel, the underside of each breast. The hollow of your throat and the apple of each cheek.

 “Good girl,” he says. He sounds like he’s just now waking up, deep and gravely. “Give me some more.”

He drops his head to nuzzle against your cheek as he lines up his cock. He nudges at your core a few times, just barely entering you before pulling out. You let out a long whine, but he doesn’t stop. Teasing and teasing you, his fingers still toying with your clit.

“ ‘Zuku,” you slur. You try to raise up to meet him, and he lets you, splitting yourself open an inch or two. But when your strength gives out again you’re back where you started.

You claw him, a little, so impatient and overwhelmed it’s pushing you toward hysteria. He sighs again in response, throwing his head back, eyes closed.

Finally he sinks in, pushing to the hilt in one steady thrust.

He gives you a second to adjust, but doesn’t stay still, hips rolling ever so slightly, the barest hint of a thrust.

Your hands find his hair, shorter now than it’s ever been, just enough to pull on. And you do, a soft pressure, just this side of painful. “Okay, Izuku,” you whisper.

The shift is immediate, the thrusts growing deeper, firmer. You feel them in your belly, a hot rush each time he’s all the way inside you. So full, so right.

Your next climax sneaks up on you. His fingers never stopped stroking your clit, and that combined with the steady weight of his cock is enough to bring you over.

Izuku watches you as you fall apart, face just inches away from yours, taking in every facet of your expression. You can feel his warm breath on the bridge of your nose, can hear the shallow huff of his breath.

His touch gets heavier, possessive. He grabs you by the shoulder, the hip, anywhere he can sink his fingers in, like he might lose you if he lets go. He alternates burying his face against your throat and pulling back to take in your fucked out expression.

You’re almost numb with the pleasure now. It’s hovering somewhere between pain and ecstasy, and you’re a breath away from tapping out when Izuku leans in, nibbles at the shell of your ear.

“One more,” he says. “Please. Baby.”

And you give it to him, as his touch on your clit turns to a pinch and he groans in your ear, his own peak hitting him.

All of your limbs tense, the pleasure-pain falling over you like a wave. So full. So right.

Your boyfriend is heavy on top of you when you come back to yourself. He’s petting your arms, cooing sweet nonsense words, pet names, praises.

He thanked you, after his first time finishing with you, the first ever night you spent in this bed. That was a little bit awkward, but sometimes you get the sense he wants to do it again, the gentle reverence in his voice, the way he touches you, greedy and exultant all at once.

When he rolls off, he brings you with him. Clingy, adjusting you so as much of your bare skin is against him as possible. Settled, he lets the two of you bask for a bit. In a few minutes he’ll insist on getting up to grab something to wipe you off with, maybe a change of sheets to replace the ones that are ruined beneath you. For now he plays with the hair at your nape, he strokes his knee up and down your inner thigh.

“Good?” he murmurs. Already smiling, because he knows the answer.

“Good,” you return.

[sukifans]

Congrats on 1k!!! Can you do number 9 from 50 cliché promts and tropes with mako x reader? :)

MAKO + “there’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“Well, this is... unfortunate.”

“It’s unacceptable.” You glanced at Mako, who was visibly irritated. “First Beifong only approves one room because of ‘budget cuts,’ and now we’re expected to share a bed?”

“Relax, tough guy. I’m sure it was just a booking error. I’ll go talk to the receptionist.” You left your partner and your bag in the room with the single large bed against the wall to go downstairs and sort out the mistake. You gave the man at the desk your friendliest smile as you approached.

“Hello again,” the man said, looking up at you. “Is there a problem with the room?”

“Yes, actually. We should’ve been booked for a room with two beds but there’s only one. Could we be moved somewhere else?” You tried to sound as amicable as possible as you spoke, hoping the employee would oblige.

He flipped through the large book of records in front of him and traced his finger down a page. “Ah, yes! You reserved a double. So sorry about that—let me see what else is available.” You watched as he flipped through again, mumbling to himself. Your smile faltered a little when he frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“It appears everything else is filled for the night. I’m terribly sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.” The man eyed you as if expecting you to blow up at him, but you just sighed and tightened your smile.

“Ah, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Thank you for checking, though.”

Mako was not gonna be happy.

“You’re joking,” he deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. You dropped down to sit on the edge of the problematic bed itself. “Are you and Beifong trying to pull a prank or something?”

You stared up at him. “Beifong? A prank? Really?”

“Okay, no,” he huffed. “But you’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you think it’s funny to inconvenience me?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mako.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking.”

He groaned and threw himself in the threadbare armchair in the corner of the room. “Great, just what I needed,” he grumbled to himself.

“Hey, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either!” You rolled your eyes. “If you’re gonna freak out about it you can take the bed and I’ll just... sleep on the floor or something.”

“No, no. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“How noble,” you laughed. “You’re the one who has a problem sleeping with me. Take the bed.”

“I—” His cheeks tinged a slight pink that didn’t escape your notice. “I don’t have a problem.”

“You sure seem to.”

“I shared a blanket with Bolin on the street for most of my childhood.”

“You must be getting spoiled with that detective salary if you can’t rough it for one night and share a bed with your favorite partner. Going soft?”

You grinned when he glared at you. “Why are you torturing me?”

“You’re easy to torture.” You stood up to rifle through your bag. “And it’s fun.”

“I’m requesting a partner transfer when we finish this assignment,” he muttered, making you bark out a laugh.

“You wouldn’t, you’re too attached now.” You straightened up with your arms full of toiletries and clean clothes. “I’m gonna go wash up so I can pass out. Early day tomorrow, and all. Catchin’ bad guys, kickin’ ass, takin’ names.”

“Uh-huh.” A small smile finally graced his handsome face for the first time since arriving at the inn. “I’ll be here keeping watch—y’know, for the bad guys.”

Once you’d scrubbed off the long day of travel and changed into clean, comfortable clothes you reentered the main room to see Mako studying the files for the case the two of you were working. His eyebrows were set into a furrow as he read through it and chewed at the inside of his cheek absently. You watched him for a few more moments once you settled down onto the worn but comfortable mattress. Something in the papers seemed to perplex him as he wrinkled his nose and flipped back a few pages. Suddenly, his warm orange eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked with a small frown.

You shrugged. “Trying to figure out if that smell is the room or just you.”

His frown deepened. “Uncalled for.”

You hummed noncommitally and snuggled down between the sheets. “Go clean up so I can sleep.”

“I’m not stopping you,” he said, snapping the file shut and rising from the chair.

“I gotta keep watch, remember? Bad guys,” you murmured despite your heavy eyelids. Mako shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom. The gentle, steady sound of running water lulled you into a drifting sleep after only a few minutes.

You roused slightly when Mako returned, shuffling around the room followed by curling steam and the smell of his soap from the bathroom. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter and tried to fall back asleep until you felt him grab a pillow off the other side of the bed. Rolling onto your side you sleepily looked up at him.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.” He stood next to a blanket on the floor with the pillow in his hand, dressed in a clean white shirt and loose pants. “I was just getting set up over here.”

You squinted at the pillow he held while your tired mind tripped over itself trying to catch up. “What?”

“I told you I’d sleep on the floor,” he said, gesturing to his makeshift sleeping area.

You blinked slowly at him. “Mako.”

“Yeah?”

“Get in the bed.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t asking,” you interrupted. “Come. To. Bed.”

He flushed lightly and opened and closed his mouth a couple times before looking down at his pillow he srill gripped. “I—I don’t want to make you... uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” you repeated blankly and he nodded. “I put my life in your hands every day, Mako. I trust you, probably more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. You’re not gonna make me uncomfortable. In fact, I’d be a thousand times more comfortable with you up here than on the floor.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, finally moving back towards the bed. “You’ve made your point.”

“Good.” You closed your eyes again and yawned loudly. “The mattress is big enough we can both stay on our sides, no big deal. You need to rest well so I know you’re alert enough to save my ass tomorrow and sleeping on the floor does not reassure me.”

“I already agreed, you don’t need to keep working at me.” Mako carefully slid into the sheets, being almost calculating in how close he could stay to the edge without falling off. Even with the considerable empty space between you, you could still feel his familiar warmth seeping into your tired muscles.

“‘M a detective, can’t help it.”

“Go to sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to harass me in the morning.”

“You know you love me.”

If only you knew, he thought to himself as you slipped back into your dreamland.

The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the thumping rhythm next to your ear. The next thing you noticed was how warm you felt, despite the sheets being tangled down around your feet. You turned your head and buried your face into your pillow, inhaling deeply.

Soap. And smoke.

Hold on. You lifted your head up slowly and blinked blearily, taking in where you were as your brain whirred back to life.

Not your pillow. Mako—his chest, more specifically. Your eyes trailed down to where your bodies were pressed together in a tangle of limbs. The arm wrapped around you ended in fingers pressing into your waist. Your thigh was hiked up around his hip and his knee was slotted between your legs. You looked up at his face to see he was still sound asleep, lips parted as he breathed slowly.

You sat up all the way and his hand on your waist flopped down onto the bed. “Mako.”

He snorted and gave no other response.

“Mako,” you hissed, smacking his chest lightly. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed your hand and yanked you back down.

“Don’ hit me,” he grumbled, lips brushing your forehead as he spoke. “‘M sleepin’.”

Your face was starting to burn. “Well, wake up!”

He cracked one eye open to peer down at you and closed it again with a sniff. All at once it seemed to hit him and his eyes flew open as he shot upwards, knocking you to the side. You groaned as he launched himself out of the bed and onto his feet.

“What time is it?!” he barked.

“I don’t know!”

He whipped his head around to look at the clock on the bedside table. He made a small noise of panic and snatched it up as if getting a closer look would change the reading it gave.

“Fuck, we’re late!”

thank you for the request! i hope you enjoyed it! it ended up being way longer than i thought it would be lol. i guess i’ll tag my atla list and the people who wanted to be tagged in my full mako fic lol

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch

REQUESTED TAGS: @ur-jinji @maruchan77 @songofgratitude @missturtleduck @zuko-is-the-sun @xxspqcebunsxx @atlabeth @malauri-lynn @sadskater25 @biqherosix @goodandevil18 @theeavtrkyoshi @miyonii @mcallmestiles @zutaraisendgamee @unketh @shortmexicangirl @keysvdssstuff @simmantha

[yinses]

make it a show

| gojo has been away for awhile and now he’s missed … times two |

gojo satoru/reader/geto suguru

rating: 18*

rqst: okay okay why choose between  geto and  gojo? why not just have both?

a/n: why not indeed.

it starts with an i miss you text.

gojo was on another long mission. his reputation often preceded him in the worst ways and popularity drew him across the country- and then some. for two weeks now he’d been in europe trying to clear out an infestation.

he still checked in when he could. sending short texts to probe about your day and shooting tourist pictures to showcase the better parts of his trips. he made sure to send different sets to suguru, giving you both the opportunity to snuggle close and share the crumbs your mutual boyfriend left behind.

its twenty minutes later, after said text, that gojo boasts about the free premium wifi upgrade that had come with his hotel reservation. and less than two minutes go by before he decides what he planned to do with that commodity.

above your head, gojo takes in the scene eagerly from the face of your phone.

“so what are you wearing?”

you make a choked sound somewhere stuck between a laugh and a moan as geto laps firmly at the dampening fabric of your panties. his fingers run along the elastic, cheekily plucking and letting it snap back against your skin with a smack.

undeterred, your other boyfriend mumbles something incomprehensible before latching onto your clit and toys with you through the fabric.

gojo’s bangs fall into his face as he huffs, electric blue eyes darkening with lust. “this isn’t just show and tell, you two. don’t ignore me.”

his whine is cute, you think as your back arches off the bed when geto adds suction to his play through. your gaze darts down when you feel a nibble to the inside of your thigh- a nudge to get those lips moving.

“i-uh… the purple one’s,” you manage. thankfully you’re still wearing them otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to properly reply.

“aw, why couldn’t you have worn the blue ones?”

because you sudden thrust this upon us, you wanted to remind him. nor were you exactly keen on dirting up a new pair just for some quick fun.

“drop your knee to the side, honey. i want to see suguru work.”

you comply, letting the limb framing geto’s head come to rest by his shoulders. it improves your view too, just catching his dark gaze before his head drops back down again. his fingers finally hook on the edge and drag the fabric down your legs and gojo whistles at the sight.

“i don’t know what’s wetter. your pussy or his lips. but i guess its a packaged deal given the circumstances.”

he’s the only one who chuckles at that, as usual.

geto adds fingers, slender limbs sliding through your slick and circle your entrance.

“if you’re going to eat her out properly, let me see too.” he directs his attention to you. “hold the phone up for me, sweetheart. at least do some of the work.”

its snarky enough that you almost don’t want to comply but then geto is pausing and you know its a command to follow. reaching behind, you grasp the device and settle the camera facing just below your navel. as the new sole source of focus, geto raises his head and gives a cheeky little grin.

gojo coos immediately at the sight,” hey, baby. fuck you look beautiful today.”

the frame of the phone obscures your vision a little but you swear you see geto blush at the compliment. how could he not. even in another country, gojo was a smooth man.

“wish i was behind you right now, making you feel as good as you’re making her.”

gojo was always good at this- the phone sex. but he exceeded the expectations whenever he was granted a visual.

“eat her out for me, yeah? fuck, i bet i could taste it.”

the audio picks up on the shifting of clothing as gojo shimminging his pants down his hips to free his cock. he keeps the camera at the perfect angle fit the slow fisting of his cock in the frame

“you’re not in charge here, satoru,” geto murmurs all while lowering his head anyway. his mouth latches back onto your throbbing heat and fits his tongue between your labia. the hands finding purchase at your hips urge you to grind down as the talented muscle flicks up. sparks of pleasure prickles your nerves and you reach around the phone to tug the band free from his bun. before the dark tresses could trickle down against you, you’re there to comb it back.

“fuck- toru .. he feels so good.”

there is a hitch to gojo’s voice, something of a light pant as he responds. “i can see him, honey. he spoils you so good.”

geto’s nose brushes your clit when you rock forward and you cry out at the unexpected friction. he pulls back enough to return his fingers to the slick of your sex, two fingers easily dipping into your core. your hand slides to the back of his skulls as his fingers adopt a rhythm.

gojo seems keen on torturing himself by edging his fingers along the sensitive head without providing the needed friction. the distorted pleasure in his voice sounds like something is caught but you know he’s just staving it off as long as he can. you wonder how flushed his face is right now, but you can’t bring yourself to interrupt geto enough to ask for an update.

“he’s going to fuck you so good, honey. bet you’re loose enough for it.” gojo swallows audibly and you can tell he’s pushed back yet another orgasm. “tell him you’re ready. … please.”

with a simpering plea like that how could you not comply.

the free hand not currently working you towards nirvana, slides up your stomach to cup the weight of your breast. unable to resist, your legs come up to squeeze around the protruding limb, shamelessly rocking against the muscle of his bicep.

“fucking hell, you’re such a dirty girl.”

you can only whine when geto flexes in response, or maybe its because of the fingers finally leaving you. the same wet fingers take the phone from you, leaving a tacky residue behind. the bed shifts as geto rises to his knees, shaking away your hold.

he’s looking at you properly now, mouth free. “i’m waiting on that begging.”

cheeks warm and lips bitten raw, you give his leg one last desperate hump, hoping eager desperation can smooth the way. “please fuck me. make gojo cum,” you add and to your satisfaction the man’s groan rumbles against your stomach.

geto leans over you to drag a free pillow closer. the phone mostly sinks into the plush fabric but he’s able to angle it in just right. from the corner of your eye you can finally see gojo, skin flushed and cock fat and leaking. his hand works in short jerks, thumb darting across the head the way he likes.

geto’s hands pry your legs apart again, but his attention is directed to the phone.” you going to hold out on us all night? this is a mutual exchange,” he teases.

your other boyfriend huffs, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of geto stripping bare. “i think i liked you better when your mouth is full.”

geto doesn’t miss a beat. “you normally do.”

he takes one of your thighs up and hooks it at his hip. geto takes you slowly, making you feel every inch and drag as he parts your folds with his cock. the burn is absent but the stretch persists as you babble. where gojo favored length, geto was graced with width. frankly they were right to call you spoiled, blessed with the best of both worlds.

“is he all the way in, princess?” gojo’s voice is strained as he asks as if he can’t see half of the cock still working its way in.

your tongue is thick and heavy but you manage, whimpers with eager hope the sounds might coax him to go faster. you could only ask, after all, geto rarely took kindly to unsolicited demands. “not yet, but i already feel so full, toru.”

“fuck yeah you do. always such a snug fit. can’t get enough of either of you.”

geto continues to ease himself deeper, confident and calculated, until the base nudges your clit. large hands caress the curve and down to your hip to squeeze the flesh. it marks the steady increase of his pace, hips drawing back nearly all the way before smacking back against you pelvis.

he wasn’t a quiet lover, but he knew when to take advantage of gojo’s presence. his shadow encompasses you as the edge of his teeth drag against your jaw. ”make it pretty for him, bunny,” he coos against the shell of your ear. “make him come home.” is emphasized by a firm thrust that rocks your entire body.

then he’s pulling back to haunches before gojo can complain about the obscured view.

your fingers grasp at the sheets when he thrusts into you at a sharper angle. the hand at your hip goes tighter as he fucks the tremble right out of you. you can still see gojo, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he matches the pace driving into you. able to catch the silent prayer in his gaze, you answer is with a broken whine.

“he’s really giving it to you ... and you’re taking it so well,” his breathing is short, heavy with his impending climax.

“he’s so deep, toru. i feel like there isn’t even room to squeeze him. geto groans when you try, hissing through his teeth as he picks up the pace. you try to maintain eye contact with the distant shaman but he’s not doing a good job either. blue eyes greedily take in everything there is to offer, darting from the jiggle of your breast to the bead of sweat forming on geto’s temple.

everyone’s tipping the edge. you can feel the palpable tension in the air on the brink of snapping.

your vision whites out the moment he starts to spurt, thick strands bringing the arc of his hips to a sloppy grind. the harsh pant against your lips is a brief warning before he swallows your tongue eagerly, groaning the remnants of his release into your mouth.

in your ear, gojo follows the sentiment, breathing heavily. you can imagine the mess he makes of himself, chest white with sticky streaks of cum. he is very much out of breath but chuckles anyway as geto pulls himself free.

“messaged received. i’ll try to get home soon.”

[donutloverxo]

First night

This is for nastybuckybarnes' au challenge. I hope you like it babe.

Run through - You're nervous to consummate your marriage with your new husband.

Warnings - medieval au, smut, heavy dub con, innocent/inexpericened reader, loss of virginity, light breeding kink. Read responsibly.

Pairing - King!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - almost 3k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You bit your lip getting up from the bed, thinking of maybe pacing around the chambers to help your restlessness. You looked at the pot of red wine right next to the fruit basket. You could have one, that would help with your nerves. But you were afraid you wouldn’t handle the alcohol well and make a fool of yourself in front of the king.

You looked at the crisp white cloth laid on the bed. Maybe you should lay down? That’s what your mother had told you.

“Just lay down and let your king do the job. Don’t move for a while after it’s done, or you won’t be able to conceive. If it hurts too much just think of something else”

Her words didn’t make things easier for you. But then you had heard good things about it from your friends. You really didn’t know what to believe. You hoped that you would meet a boy, fall in love and get married. Perhaps knowing a person helps with the coupling? Not that you need to know Steven anymore than you already do. He is your husband now. He could do whatever he wants with you.

When you were told you were to be married to him. You were as scared as you were happy. You didn’t know the first thing about marriage or men. But you had heard of king Stevens bravery and kindness, along with tales of his ethereal beauty. They said that he was carved out by gods themselves. You fell in love as soon as you saw his portrait. His rugged jaw covered with a thick beard, his long locks sweeped back, his broad shoulders and alert stance, akin to that of a soilder.

You couldn’t believe you were to be the queen. Being the youngest of three sisters you would never have had such an opportunity. But both your older sisters were married off. One to a prestigious Lord and another to a king of a small kingdom. You did feel a tinge of pride when they were so jealous of you. Of the power you were to have as a queen and of your beautiful and brave future husband.

Power. Something that scared you the most. Sure being a queen was glamourous. But what if you let your new kingdom and people down. What if you let your king down?

You had never met him before the wedding. When your face was unveiled, and you looked at his face and him up close you were taken aback. Of just how much more handsome he looked in reality. That portrait did him no justice.

You couldn’t tell if he found you satisfactory at all. His face was set in an unreadable expression. Was he pleased or disappointed with you? He barely spoke two words to you the entire ceremony and feast. You cringed as you recalled your first dance. How even after so many lessons you kept stepping on his feet, while he kept moving gracefully. You imagined him moving with the same grace on the battlefield.

You wanted to please him. To be enough for him. You knew men seeked pleasure from other women if they found their wives unsatisfactory. You didn’t think you could stand it if he did something like that. In a moment of desperation you asked your newly assigned handmaiden for some help on how to please a man. She, of course was embarrassed and refused to give you a clear answer. They would probably gossip about you now. No. You can’t think about that. Not right now.

You straightened your back to sit up straight as you heard the doors being opened. You let out the breathe you didn’t even know you were holding as you looked at him. With his white shirt, which gave you a generous view of his chest and the thin hair splattered over it and his dark pants, he looked much different without his informal attire. He stared you down but didn’t really acknowledged your presence as he made his way over to the wine.

Before he could pour a glass you quickly made your way over to him, fetching the glass from the table. “Allow me, my king” you gave him a nervous smile. It was probably a bad idea since you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. You cringed as you splashed a few drops out of the glass.

He only shook his head making a sound of disapproval, grabbing the pot from you he poured the glass full handing it to you. “You might need it more than me”

“Oh well... thank you...” You took it from him. Too scared to refuse him. To tell him you absolutely hated the foul taste of wine. You tried your best to keep a straight face as you swallowed the liquid. You chugged the glass down setting it on the table. You could feel it taking effect in your limbs as you felt your whole body loosen up.

“Have you been with other men before?” he asked walking over to the bed.

You were floored by his question. They had sent a doctor to make sure you had never been touched before. Which you weren’t. He knew the answer. But then why was he asking. “I won’t dignify that with an answer” You huffed. He was getting some kind of sick pleasure from your humiliation. You wouldn’t have him make fun of you.

“Oh?” He smirked in amusement at your boldness. He felt his cock stir in his pants at your defiance. A stark contrast to what he perceived you as.

He never really cared much for marriage. Always thinking that he would find the right woman along the way. Sure he indulged in some courtesans here and there but he held back. Not wanting any bastard children. He knew how doomed their fate was just like his half brother James.

He wished for a strong woman, capable and worthy of being a queen. But he learned that you didn’t even know how to ride a horse. You were nothing more than a spoilt sheltered princess. But he agreed to the marriage, for his kingdom and his duty.

He could make it work. As long as you give him a few sons the marriage wouldn’t be an utter failure. He could learn to bear you or even care for you a bit.

But then he looked at you face, your hair and gown all made up, you were the prettiest bride he had ever seen. His bride. He couldn’t help but be proud you were going to be his.

And now that he could see you and your plump figure through the thin petticoat, he couldn’t wait to tear it off and to find out if you were just as curvy underneath. “Come here” He smirked as you instantly followed standing in front of him, your fingers fidgeting with your gown. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he knew you hadn’t. But he needed to hear it from you. He would be proud to be your first in everything.

You shook your head staring at the floor. You looked so small and helpless in front of him. It was a dilemma. Because it made him protective of you but at the same time want to do devious things to you. He thought about how he could take you. Of course he’d get to have you every way and anyway he wanted, you were his wife and his future queen, but he needed the first time to be memorable. “What was that?”

“No. I haven’t, your grace” You spat almost spitefully.

He chuckled at that, staring at your lips, he bent down to capture them and have a taste. He felt you go stiff when his lips touched yours, as soft as rose petals and oh so sweet. You gasped into his mouth as he pulled you into him by pulling at your waist. He threw you on the bed, over the white sheet.

You stayed there panting, your kiss swollen lips, your nipples that turned into stiff peaks he groaned just at the sight of them. You were looking at him as if you were afraid of him, maybe you should be. He climbed onto the bed and settled between your legs. He pushed the helm of your petticoat up until it revealed your smooth soft legs and thick thighs to him.

“Oh! Wha –“ you stammered as he nipped at the inside of your thigh, slowing moving towards your core. He could smell your arousal. He couldn’t wait to dig his face in it and taste it. Find out if it was as sweet as you were. He wasn’t a patient man but for now he would wait. You were a fine woman. One who should be enjoyed at the fullest. So he would take his time, even if his cock was aching to be inside you.

He was trying to get the gown off of you with no help from you it was turning out to be quite a task. Fuck it to being patient. He tore the collar of your gown, ripping the whole thing off. He quickly threw the shred of cloth away and tossed it away.

He stared you down. You were sniffling as tears of shame escaped your eyes, your hands pathetically trying to cover your chest. You made yourself small trying to curl in on yourself ,but with him sitting between your legs, didn’t leave you much room to move.

He took your wrists in his hands pushing them down besides your head and he bend down to lick the salty tear off your cheek. He pressed a small kiss to your cheek before squeezing your wrists. “Keep them here. I’m your husband, you don’t hide from me” He stated as he pulled back up to admire your nude body. You gulped down as you moved your head so you wouldn’t have to look at him, but you didn’t dare move your hands or cover yourself.

He pressed a thumb over your hard nipple pulling on the nub as you gasped and tried so hard to contain those your moans, but he heard them. He licked the peak before sucking it into his mouth placing soft kisses over your breasts as you kept whining and shivering under him.

He kissed down your stomach finally looking at your heat between your legs. He had never been as awestruck as he was in that moment. He took in a deep breathe to get a whiff of your arousal.

“My king?” you hesitated sitting up on your elbows looking down at him between your legs “ what are you doing?” you panicked. Surely he wouldn’t.... “Oh!” You cried out loud as you felt him lick a stripe up your folds. You sat up pushing at his head “This isn’t how it’s done” you tried to argue. Although you weren’t sure, no one told you about this. What was he even doing?

You fell back on the mattress as he pushed his palm down on your chest “Stay” He commanded. You had no choice but to lay back. You stared at the rose garlands painted on the ceiling, trying to distract yourself, as he licked and sucked at you. You really did try to hold in the noises your body was so desperate to let out. But you couldn’t not when you were feeling so strange yet so good.

You whimpered as he wrapped his mouth around your bundle of nerves sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue over it. Maybe he was doing it to make you feel good but it felt more like a sweet torture. You felt as if you were on the edge of something about to crash and burn. But then, your world came to a screeching halt as you felt him push a finger into your channel. You clenched around the alien object, the invasion felt so strange you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Fuck you’re tight” you would’ve been upset at his foul language and his use of the forbidden word but what he was doing was much more sinful than that. You couldn’t think of anything but his mouth and his tongue on you, his finger inside you. You moaned as he pushed another finger inside you pulling them out only to quickly push them back in. “Don’t know how I will last” He groaned curling his long digits inside you as you screamed at the top of your longs.

It was as if everything came crashing down on you. The feeling was incomparable. Unlike anything you had ever felt before. Your skin was on fire as your muscles spasmed.

You could vaguely hear him undress as you looked at him through your hooded eyes. His pupils blown wide, his cock standing up straight against his hard stomach. You could see the faint scars littered across his body, proof of his many battles.

You were expecting him to do the deed, make love to you and truly make you his wife. But he pulled you up to sit on your bum, your eyes staring straight at his cock. “You gonna return the favor princess?” He asked his voice was much deeper and his tone more gruff. “Taste it” He said pushing the head of his cock against your lips.

You weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do. So you simply opened your mouth as he pushed himself in. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, your spit dripping down your chin. He tasted salty and musky. You felt as if you’d cry again, of being naked and in such a compromising position. All the while he was so composed and graceful.

He held onto your face pulling his cock out of your mouth but before you could breathe out in relief he slammed back in again. You couldn’t fit all of him, he was too big. He thrusted a few times before pulling out of your mouth completely. You coughed and gasped for air, cleaning up his spend and your spit with the back of your hand.

“Can’t cum in your mouth” He groaned pushing you to lay down he hovered above you. You felt him rub his tip against your folds.

“Wh – what if it doesn’t fit?” you asked nervous again. You had never seen a naked man before, but he looked big. At least right now, he was looking at your face instead of your naked body.

“Just loosen up” You followed his advice as you held onto his thick arms. You winced in pain as you felt the pinch of him entering your weeping channel. You moved your head away biting your lip to contain your screams.

“Look at me” he demanded grabbing your chin “look at your king” You reluctantly opened your eyes staring at him. He was so beautiful. You couldn’t help but run your fingers through his thick beard, just a shade darker than his golden blonde hair. You wailed throwing your head back as he pushed into you completely seething himself.

“Shh” he hushed you as he snaked a hand between your bodies striking your clit to distract you. “It’ll feel better soon” He promised. As he let you get accustomed to his length. The fact that he was much larger than most men and that you were a virgin wasn’t lost on him. He would have to restrain himself. Which seemed impossible at the moment. Your walls so snug and tight, clenching around him, he would cum right this second.

He pulled out of you before slowly pushing himself back in. He set a steady pace as your cries slowly turned into moans. You clawed at his back, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He was only spurred on by your little mewls and hot puffs of air against his ear.

You cried out again thrashing and squirming under him another wave of pleasure crashing into you. He grunts as he felt you clench around him, milking him for all he’s worth. He snapped his hips against yours a couple of times cuming deep in your womb.

He laid on top of you, catching his breathe. He pulled the white sheet from under you and used it to clean you between your legs. You jerked as the cloth touched your sensitive skin. He cleaned his cock and went outside his chambers to hang the sheets up.

When he returned you were about to get up and put on whatever you could salvage out of your torn nightgown. “Lay back down” He demanded fed up “you have to give me a son” he reminded you pushing you into the mattress. Just how many times would he have to tell you before you would understand. He’ll have to work on a way to make you listen. That’s alright though, he had all the time in the world.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you wanna join the taglist lemme know or click on the link in the bio. divider by @writeyourmindaway

Ima go soak in holy water for like ten hours to wash off these sins🥵🥵 this is as dark as I'm gonna go lol. Who knows maybe there will be a part two 👀

[drxwsyni]

Always, and Forever

Pairing: Yandere Koushi Sugawara x f!Reader

Synopsis: Koushi has taken care of you for so long, by now it’s something you’ve come to find solace in. And so it pains you to have to part from him on purge night, forced into the outside world in hopes of quelling your lingering embers of desired independence, however that may happen.

a/n: This is my fic for the Yandere Purge AU writing collab, hosted by the Lovesick Discord server! Here’s the link to the m.list where you can read the other fics members have written for this collab! I really didn’t mean for my part to get this long, but alas I have zero self control. 

Thanks you so so so much to @yanderart​ for beta-ing this fic, you literally always work wonders for me while also being the sweetest human being ever. Many kithes for you my dear friend.

9.7k words

Warnings: Dubcon, heavy stockholm syndrome, infantilization, attempted assault (when Daichi makes a brief appearance), injury, depictions of violence, gaslighting, manipulation.

_____

He felt like home.

Koushi’s embrace, his words, his smell―the stability he surrounded you with.

The love he surrounded you with.

You felt light around him. Mind in another place, floating off into feelings of quietude. A swell of comfort bloomed in your chest at the sight of him. His warm and familiar smile, adoration for you shining in his hazel brown eyes. The way his fingers ghosted across your skin, gentle, as if you were made of the most delicate glass, and any move too unintentionally harsh would break you.

It’s why he took such good care of you. Making sure you were safe, out of harm from the dangers of the outside world. Tucked away in his home a small ways away from the outskirts of the city. He held a certain pride to it all―the knowledge that you were protected from all that could ail you, and all because of him.

You doubted that there was anyone else on the planet who would do the same. Who would learn every single little thing about you, know you better than you knew yourself. Nobody else existed that would dedicate so much to making sure you never had to worry your pretty little head over the stresses of everyday life.

There was nobody but Koushi.

As he held you close, your back pressed into his as the two of you lay in bed, it was obvious that he was all that you needed.

His arms wrapped around you, and with the lulling sensation of sleep slowly washing over you like a rising tide, it was easy to melt into his embrace. If you relaxed enough, let your inhibitions escape you, just how he always urged you to do, you might just feel like all is right in your small world with him.

“...You know what day tomorrow is, right?”

But that was why you couldn’t relax.

Koushi keeps you on your toes, biding his time for you to step out of line. He waits patiently, observing, but not compelling you more than normal on any given day. Your lover keeps with routine, fearful that changes will be too much for you to handle. Only, you wish there was a change, anything to stave off the mental consequences that repetitive actions brought.

You couldn’t relax, because even if he felt like home, it was still not your home. You lost that a year ago tomorrow.

...Purge night.

Free reign given to those like Koushi, and for those such as yourself. To have and to hold, or to run free. Two opposing forces in a race against the clock to fulfill their desires.

But you didn’t even make it past the first five minutes.

• • •

Seated on his couch, TV mantled above the fireplace, a warm glow dancing across the room.

You were nervous―painfully so.

That dreaded letter came in the mail. You were selected to be a participant, the government mandated notice read. Unfortunately for you, it didn’t read who you were selected by. It was why you were scared out of your mind, and why you went to the only person who could calm you down.

At his side, his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, Koushi soothingly reassured you that everything would be alright. With his words, low and gentle, softly spoken in your ear. Or with his actions, a welcomingness that you could never refuse. His home being a safe haven, his touch coaxing you to let yourself accept that you had not a single thing to fret about with him.

He offered protection for the night. And you knew that you wouldn’t make it out there by yourself, so of course you obliged.

You obliged when he said to make yourself comfortable, when he offered to put on some music to ease the tension, whatever could assist your shaken soul. Your nerves were quite clearly running rampant― “Nothing a good cup of tea can’t fix.”

Koushi was right, it did wonders for your state, subdued more and more by the second.

Soon, the announcement played across the screen. Words in bold urging caution for some, and sparking adrenaline for many.

For you, things felt...strange.

The task of placing who had signed you up for this dreadful night was mind boggling. You thought to your coworkers, childhood friends, even lingering acquaintances that had entered and left your life in the span of a single day.

Still, nobody came to mind…

Not until the announcement ended.

Or the sirens outside ceased their countrywide alerts.

It wasn’t until you lost the feeling in your limbs, did you know where your mistake lay.

Taking the form of your always caring friend, never the one to leave you unguarded. Constantly checking up on you, ensuring you were looking after yourself. Doing everything he could to take responsibility for all those little things you couldn’t handle, just to lift that extra weight off you.

But really, Koushi didn’t think you could handle anything. Not like he could. Your struggles weren’t something you, a fragile and vulnerable thing, could ever possibly manage. In his eyes, you just weren’t made to take care of yourself.

That’s what he told you as he shut the television off, and as he laid you down on the couch.

He spoke so lovingly, “It’s alright, my sweet girl.”

By then it was too late. You were reduced to being completely defenceless, at risk of quite literally everything.

...That’s not how he saw it, though.

To Koushi, you’d never been safer.

That was the reality―you in his home away from modern dangers. Then, and now still.

• • •

A year had just about gone by. You no longer thought for yourself, for the most part. Koushi tried to force you into a state of complete dependence, and you couldn’t deny that he did a good job of it. You knew this because mostly, your memory was in shambles. From days upon days upon weeks where you let him do all the work, things didn’t really stick. And what significant thing was there to remember in the same laid out and unfaltering routine?

He would always dote on you, not once have you needed to ask him to do so. “It’s my responsibility,” he would repeatedly tell you. It wasn’t your place to fend for yourself―that was his job.

With how thorough he was with that agenda, not letting you slip up for a second without reprimanding you, Koushi had molded your mindset to fit his ideals. A year of reminders, of insisting submission upon you―all serving one purpose.

To make you see, make you understand that he was the only one for you.

But he knew just as much, if not more than you, that still there remained the flickering flames of autonomy. The need for it dim, but its light still a beacon of strength that fueled you to resist him.

Koushi waited for an answer, an acknowledgement to his question that no doubt stirred conflict in your mind.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, a seed of dread planted in your chest. Just slightly, you nodded your head in confirmation. Of course you knew what tomorrow was.

The day where, only because it’s illegal not to do so, those like you were given a chance at freedom. To make up for failing last year, and to obtain that independence you once held.

You didn’t even know if you completely wanted it though...

Behind you, Koushi pulled you closer into him. Carefully, he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss against your temple. His hand intertwined with yours, giving it a small squeeze.

And nothing more was said on the matter.

_____

You woke up in his arms, a safe cocoon under the sheets with the morning daylight seeping through the cracks of the closed blinds. Of course, Koushi was already awake.

Sometime throughout the night, you shifted into your current position―head resting on his chest, arm thrown over his torso. You sighed happily as you were met in your waking state with the feeling of his hand on your waist, holding you against him as he thumbed the soft and nightgown clothed skin soothingly, a repeated back and forth.

His morning voice always made you feel different. A little raspy, but still coated in his loving tone, creating butterflies in your stomach. “Mornin’, pretty girl.”

Still wrapped in the comfort of a post sleep haze, you nuzzled your face into his chest. “Mmmn...mornin’.”

If you were looking at him, you’d be able to see his expression that was practically dripping in admiration. You might find his tiredly intimate words and motions endearing, but he found that of yours to be nearly enough to stop his heart.

Really, everything you did had that effect.

...It was a shame he’d have to go without it later tonight.

For now however, he’d let you sleep in. It was the weekend after all, and you needed your beauty rest. That, and he wasn’t about to ruin this moment by discussing the inevitable.

_____

Neither of you had yet to speak of what was soon to come, but that didn’t matter. Not when, even from the moment he got you out of bed, that reality was already having an influence on your day.

Normally, Koushi would opt to dress you in something a little more delicate. He liked the sight of you in a silken nightgown, an earthy pale pink, or pastel blues. Something to represent how fragile he thought you to be. Of course, it was never a practical outfit. But you had nowhere you needed to be, remaining inside his home your only job.

This morning's upgrade of a real dress, one with pockets, double lined and long sleeve, was the first reminder of tonight’s main event. All in all, it was pretty. You liked it, you were grateful for it.

But it only made your chest tighten, an indescribable hint of trepidation taking hold of your being.

The day goes on, you once again settling into routine. It wasn’t hard doing so, especially since now you’ve grown used to how unwavering it is. You actually find it quite nice.

If you forced yourself to step outside of your adopted headspace, it was just barely possible to pinpoint when you became this docile. When the rules Koushi had both mentally and physically beat into you became automatic actions. Or, when they didn’t seem like rules, but more so guidelines for a healthy routine that you genuinely wanted to complete.

Because you did feel healthy. You got plenty of sleep, since you always went to bed when he told you to. You had a balanced diet, because even though Koushi was busy with work, he always managed to prepare you a proper meal. You felt at peace, because you forgot why you were here in the first place.

So, separating from that compliance, and forcing yourself to remember your reality―you’d say it’s been roughly three months since you started to enjoy living with Koushi. And now that you’ve memorized the routine he’s set up for you, you know that when he sits you down on the couch, while he remains standing in front of you before speaking―these are special circumstances.

It’s just after dinner, a little past 5 o’clock. He has yet to help you switch into your evening routine, which normally consists of giving you a task such as reading or drawing to pass the time, until you have to get ready for bed.

You know that he’s looking down at you, but you can’t bring yourself to return his gaze. When you caught a glimpse of it, it only stirred anxiety inside of you. He wasn’t tense. He wasn’t upset. He seemed...casual.

Too casual for the conversation you were about to have.

“I know this is stressful for you, sweetheart. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Your hands are folded on your lap, nails digging into the skin in an attempt to distract you from the developing worry encasing you.

Much to your dismay, Koushi crouches down in front of you, a hand placed gently atop your knee. Like an adult trying to get on the level of a child, which honestly is what he makes you feel like sometimes when he speaks in such a soft tone. It forces you to look him in the eyes.

He’s right―you could always say no.

Mandatory by law, those like you who are bound to your ‘lover’ by their legal ownership over you must be given a chance to regain independence. However, you’re completely within your rights to deny the offer. Of course, this would mean that for another year you would be stuck with them.

The problem is, many of the individuals who deny the offer no longer find it as being stuck.

You don’t know what you would define it as.

What you do know is that if you go, the odds of making it out with that sense of freedom aren’t very encouraging. Your stamina is all but entirely depleted, given how the most activity you get is by walking throughout the house to either the bathroom, living room or kitchen.

On top of that, you have zero clue where you’d go. Being in the same spot for a year hasn’t exactly done anything for your sense of direction, or your understanding of the city’s layout. And the last time you went outside, the most you saw was the same view from the living room’s window.

Because you only got about ten feet from the back door before Koushi caught you.

That experience didn’t give you anything to help you in trying your hand at tonight’s offer. In fact, it only made things more difficult. The mere thought of what had ensued after he dragged you back inside his home was immobilizing.

It was likely the very reason as to why deciding if you wanted to attempt to leave Koushi was so debilitating. When even thinking of taking a single step outside struck fear into your core.

...

You should say no.

But of course, things would never be that simple. Not now at least.

Those embers of resistance still burned inside of you. Albeit dangerously fleeting, you could just barely recall the indulgences of your past life. A time where you still held that independence, when you could choose to do things for yourself. Small things you took for granted, like fast food or staying up late and binging shows―while the memories were clouded, you could still recognize the feeling they gave you.

Of warmth, or of the mindless pleasure that you used to never think twice about seeking.

A pang of guilt shot through you, realizing how selfish you were for wanting to leave Koushi over that. He’d been so good to you, making sure you barely had to lift a finger. Yet here you were, yearning for things that would only do you harm, a fact he’d repeated countless times in the early days of living with you.

But, tonight was the only night of the year when you got to be a little selfish. The prospect of earning those little independent privileges was strangely like fuel to the nearly burnt out fire of your lingering resistance.

You looked back at the grey haired man, still calmly awaiting an answer.

“N-no, no...I want to do this, I think…”

And there was that smile again, all too soft and gentle for what you could only guess was some well contained detestment for your words. He looked understanding, and to anyone else the way he regarded you would be endearing.

What a loving boyfriend….

If only they knew.

With that, he let you remain on the couch, waiting patiently for his return while he moved momentarily into another room. Soon he returned, and for the first time in a whole year, he let you watch television that wasn’t dumbed down animated shows, or wholesome animal documentaries.

Koushi put on the news, or more specifically, the countdown broadcast to the purge.

_____

You could almost laugh at how rattled simply watching the news made you. It would be amusing, accept your heart was beating too fast, mind racing with worrying thoughts to realize the irony of the situation.

This night was supposed to be your only chance of gaining legal custody of your own independence. You should be beaming. Yet here you were, anxiously bouncing your leg, bottom lip between your teeth as the announcer went on with scripts of how people across the country were preparing for when 6 pm hit.

And Koushi, the one who should be stressed with the possibility of you slipping out of his grasp―he was doing fine.

For the most part, at least.

Sure, a small hint of dread for the highly, and he means highly, unlikely was present in the back of his mind. But Koushi knew you. He knew every single little thing that made you who you were.

Of course he did, he loved you after all.

So that flicker of dread remained almost nonexistent. Because he also knew how this night would end, and that was more than enough to calm his nerves.

Unconsciously, you leaned into Koushi’s side. He was seated right next to you on the middle of the couch. An arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your left hand in his and placed on his lap, his fingers not so absentmindedly drawing soothing circles into your skin.

You didn’t see, but his eyes never left your troubled and practically shaking form.

He felt bad for taking pride in the sight.

It meant that you were terrified of leaving him. And you should be, it was so dangerous out there. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself, it’s why he did it for you. So, seeing this proof that in less than ten minutes, you’d be going out into the night alone, had you shivering in fear―it only told him that what he was doing was right.

Yes, it did hurt him to see you so distressed, but you needed to learn your place.

Which was next to him, always.

And when he thought about it, this is how his lessons always went. Koushi would never hurt you unless you deserved it. Unfortunately for you, you tended to do a lot of things that warranted punishment. And he was eager to help you see things his way. Tonight was no different.

You’d never be in any real danger.

He’d never go as far as to permanently damage you in any way.

If you deserved the punishment, then he should be allowed to have a little fun with it.

Both of you were brought out of your respective intense thoughts as the room was bathed in red. The television screen, now vibrantly pigmented in the colour, began playing the annual emergency broadcast, alarms blaring from the speakers.

Koushi saw how you flinched, and like the loving person he was, he reached for the remote to turn down the volume. You were still shaking like a leaf, stare fixated on the bolded words rolling across the screen.

In an attempt to console you, Koushi gently moved a hand onto your shoulder, urging you to lean back into him. Your heart skipped a beat as he placed a kiss on the crown of your head, lingering there for a moment.

He spoke in a delicate whisper, just loud enough that it would drown out the automated announcer from the last broadcast to be had tonight. “...Shhh, you’re alright sweetheart.”

Unconsciously, you nodded with his affirmation, trying to convince yourself of the same thing.

Information continued to dance across the screen. You would have twelve hours, starting at 6 pm, which was in two minutes, to do whatever you needed to obtain your ideal outcome. So would those opposite of you in nature, which didn’t exactly help your chances of fighting for your freedom.

A myriad of other rules and such were listed, most of them being useless to you. It was more so meant for those of the bolder type. What weapons you could use, who you could injure, and how far you could take things.

You didn’t want to hurt anybody. You just wanted to go back to how things were before naively falling for Koushi’s trap―or at least that’s what you thought. The whole decision still felt a little cloudy in your mind, even now.

Abruptly, the television stopped it’s recount of the mandatory notice. The red returned to black, because for one, there was nothing more to and. And, because Koushi had turned off the TV, the resounding click bringing you back to reality.

Neither of you moved as the countrywide sirens rang out. The fixed speakers outside sounded off, letting everyone who wasn’t tuning into the news segment that finally, the purge had begun.

Your gaze remained fixed on the floor, feeling like it was taking an eternity for the roaring noises to cease. Eventually they did, leaving you and Koushi with the silence of the living room, the hushed sounds of a crackling fireplace being the only thing to meet your ears.

Naturally, he has to do everything for you. And, naturally, he doesn’t mind.

“C’mon, sweet girl.”

Carefully, so as not to scare you more than you already clearly were, Koushi pulled you off the couch. Not moving too quickly, he kept your hand held firmly in his as he led you to the front door.

You couldn’t remember the last time you got this close to the entrance. His various methods of reprimand doing wonders to keep you from drawing near it. Sometimes, even looking at the door was something you feared.

But now, here you were, standing right in front of it.

You followed Koushi’s movements, your hand falling at your side as he released it to begin undoing the excessive amount of locks.

Not excessive to him of course, anything to keep his perfect little girl safe.

The quiet beeping of the door’s alarm was the only thing to be heard aside from the noise of your heart beating in your chest, the sound reverberating in your skull. Then came the manual locks, Koushi’s hand reaching into his pocket to grab the keyring.

With each lock coming undone, your mindset continued to spiral.

You can’t do this. It’s too much to handle. You have no clue where to go, or where to hide.

And the comfort that he provides―you really do like it.

How he touches you, tender and lovingly, able to feel with every movement how much he cares for you. When he wraps you in his arms, that familiar and comforting smell that’s so undeniably Koushi sedating those thoughts at unease. He speaks to you, always saying the right things, so softly.

You realized that lately, there was nothing to worry about with him.

But you would lose all you earned the second you stepped out of his home.

Yet, as he finishes with the locks and turns back to you, it doesn’t feel like you’ll lose anything.

Not as in, once you leave, his presence will be gone, and that you’ll never have to experience it after you make it out of this night with your freedom.

Rather, once you fail, he’ll be waiting, ready to snuff out those pangs of anguish you’re feeling right now, just like he always does. That kind of comfort didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

The thought alone was enough to quell many of your concerns.

Koushi stepped towards you, his hands reaching for you, finding their destination in gingerly cupping your face. Nervously, your eyes flitted from his frame to the door’s handle.

The man in front of you sighed slightly, taking in the details of your expression. The furrow of your brows, how you had trouble focusing on any one thing while a plethora of thoughts raced through your mind.

He liked knowing how much this was bothering you. Showing that at the end of the day, you were more dependent on him than you realized.

Koushi was the first to speak, you tensing at the startling noise.

“I’m not forcing you to do this, sweetheart. You know you don’t have to go out there.”

He studied you intently, and you felt the urge to shrink from his focused gaze. It would be so easy to just stay home. To curl up with Koushi in front of the fireplace, relax into his arms as the night went by.

But as you looked back to the unlocked door once more, you knew that wasn’t an option.

“I do have to, I’m sorry…”

You didn’t know if you were apologizing to him, or to yourself.

Koushi smiled, a thumb momentarily caressing your cheekbone before pulling away.

“Well, then―I’ve got something for you.” His hand once again fished around in his pocket before pulling out the object in question.

Your eyes landed on it immediately―a burner phone.

It was simple, a black flip phone, old model and with little use aside from calls and texts that took far too long to type out on its inconvenient keyboard.

Koushi stood next to you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he flipped the device open. The artificial glow of the screen illuminated your face while he held it open for you to observe.

“My number is on speed dial, just press here―” he went through the motions slowly, letting you follow the steps he was taking, “―and you’ll be able to call whenever you need me.”

Slowly you nodded, amazed at the prospect of using an electronic, even an ancient one. You hadn’t touched a phone in so long.

Koushi slipped the device into the pocket of your dress, choosing to face you once again. This time he gripped your shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze to grab your attention. “If you can’t handle being out there, promise that you’ll call me.”

For the first time this night, you looked him in the eyes. Those full of compassion and care, you not knowing the feelings they hid from you.

“...I will, Koushi.”

A moment of silence lingered in between the two of you, and before you could make any first move, his lips were softly connecting with yours.

An action full of devotion, you had no choice but to melt into it. Because now, it no longer caused discomfort to eat away at your system, but the exact opposite.

When his lips parted from yours, instead of immediately letting go, Koushi pulled you into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist, your head settling into the crook of his neck.

You finally realized that there had been tears slipping down your cheeks this whole time.

His voice sent shivers down your spine, spoken against the shell of your ear. “I love you, so much…”

Your hands gripped his shirt tightly in response.

“...But, you won’t stand a chance out there.”

An odd choice of words, while although it did send an icy fear throughout your body, it still made you want to go out there and prove him wrong.

Whether or not he realized that fact was beyond you.

Koushi pulled away, not before pressing a final kiss on your cheek. His hand reached for the doorknob, turning, and swinging it open.

The cold air of the evening hit your body, the sun rapidly setting on the horizon. It brought about a new sense of coldness to go along with that which was stirred by your anxieties. Breaking your attention away from the outdoors that lay just a few feet away, Koushi voiced his plans.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll give you an hour as a head start, sound good?”

Silently, because you couldn’t form the words to make a response with an impossible lump in your throat, you nodded. But you still remained in place.

Waiting for his permission.

He smiled at your expectant behaviour.

Koushi waved a hand, gesturing to the outdoors. “...Go on, now.”

Hesitantly, still greatly unsure of your own decision, you did as he said. Feeling almost light, with your body seemingly moving on its own, you stepped through what, up until now, was a forbidden threshold.

The breeze in the air made your dress flow, the feeling of the forceful chill against the bare skin of your legs a foreign sensation after all this time. You could hear the sounds of crickets chirping in the grass, many living past the tree-line of the forest surrounding his home.

The sun was what you were least expecting.

Just barely managing to peek through the mostly overcast sky, its intense rays landed upon your skin. You could feel its heat, a warmth contrasting the fall temperatures. Tilting your head up slightly, you closed your eyes to bask in its natural gift.

But as soon as it came, the sensation was gone.

The sky fully clouded over, leaving you in the cold, and in a darkness threatening to grow worse as each second ticked by. Still battling an inner turmoil to go through with your wants, you turned around to face Koushi one last time.

Still at the front entrance, he was bathed in the inviting warm light coming from inside the house. He made no more moves to sway you in any which direction. Instead, he simply stood in the doorway, casually leaning against it with his hands in his pockets.

That’s when it dawned on you.

You were wasting time.

No wonder he was so calm. Letting you spend precious seconds getting nowhere.

Your eyes met his. Koushi gave you that signature smile that suddenly wasn’t so comforting.

And then, you were gone.

_____

Your heart was thudding loudly in your chest, desperate gulps of air entering and exiting your already exhausted system. Previous calculations on the few strengths you’d have going for you, and the many weaknesses holding you back were correct.

After less than two minutes of running, you already had to reduce yourself to a walking pace.

Your limbs felt increasingly strained at the sudden exertion, calves aching and lungs burning. Once you slowed down and your wits returned, you noticed the particularly painful sensation in your feet.

Koushi failed to give you proper shoes for the night's events, instead leaving you in your fairly thin lined slippers that now weren’t even good enough to keep out the chill.

Or perhaps, he did that on purpose?

Those facts didn’t quite matter at the moment. You had finally reached the edge of the city, making good time as you didn’t have the need to make it there under the cover of the forest. A quick glance at your burner phone would tell you that you still had fifteen minutes of free time, so there was no problem being out in the open as you took to the road to reach your destination.

The stretches of trees were replaced with encroaching buildings, starting out small and changing into impressive structures as you ventured further into the city.

Overall, it was quiet. Aside from a few stray pieces of litter blowing in the wind, there was nobody out on the streets aside from yourself. Really, many people didn’t have a reason to be out. Not everyone had someone to be running from, or oppositely, had someone to be running after. If you didn’t fall into either of those two categories, then you had no reason not to stay inside.

After all, getting in someone’s way could mean risking your life.

This constant and looming reality, that the only reason why you were out was because of these special circumstances―it didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

Even as you caught your breath, your heart remained beating rapidly inside your chest. Your feet stumbled awkwardly along the sidewalk, wincing with each shot of pain that ran up your legs.

You only paused when your eyes landed on red and bolded graffiti on the side of a boarded up shop.

“KNOW YOUR PLACE.”

However, you failed to understand what that was anymore.

The sudden noise of a shrill scream sounding from some indiscernible place brought you startlingly out of your focus on the graffiti. The noise bounced off of the brick walls of buildings around you. Your head whipped from side to side, trying to understand where it was coming from.

Only, it felt like the screams were all around you.

Your hands were clenched into tight fists, nails indenting crescent moons into the skin of your palms. The wails lasted for a mere five or so seconds, but it felt like minutes with how your distress was only amplifying your panicked reaction.

In that state of immense internal torment, you unable to think of any one decision for yourself, your body once again acted on it’s own. Fight or flight senses kicking in, favouring the latter, you bolted away from what you were most sure was the best direction away from the screaming.

Really it was all you could do. Staying in one spot, frozen with fear that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, wouldn’t do a single thing for you. Even if you didn’t know the exact destination of your travels, all you knew was that you had to put as much distance as possible between you and Koushi’s home.

So you ran, only to once again forget just how ill equipped you were.

The street lights went by in a blur, wind whipping past you. The first bead of sweat trickled down your face as you willed yourself to keep moving. Not even a minute in and you were slowing to a stop, leaning against the side of a building.

You could’ve passed out right then and there, with the weight of your exhaustion, and your weakening mindset crashing down on you. But if you stopped, you knew that you’d likely never be on the winning side of this night.

Still trying to catch your breath, you used this time to pull out your burner phone. Flipping the small device open, you winced at the bright and artificial glow that you were so unaccustomed to, especially in the darkening light of the evening.

Your eyes landed on the clock, front and center of the compact screen.

7:00 pm.

The head start was up.

_____

A quiet playing of jazz music lingered in the background of the kitchen, the pinks and oranges of a setting sun behind the clouds casting part of the room in a warm hue. Methodically, and humming to himself, Koushi was drying the dishes from the dinner he had with you, fondly recalling how breathtaking you looked in your new dress.

He took a quick glance at the clock after putting the last cleaned dish in the cupboard, making sure to lock the small door shut. The device mounted on the wall told him it was nearing quarter to eight.

Expectantly, his phone rang in his pocket, him not even needing to look at the caller ID before answering. Especially not when the voice on the other line spoke before he could even get a word out.

“You still need me for tonight?”

Koushi slung the cup towel over his shoulder, leaning against the granite countertop. “Daichi, I’d really appreciate the help if you’re still up for it. I understand if you can’t though―”

“You had my back last year, the least I can do is return the favour.”

Softly, Koushi laughed a little to himself, remembering how frustrated his friend was, unable to control his other half.

He nodded, gazing out the window as he spoke. “Well then, do you remember what I said or should we go through it again?”

On the other line, he heard some indistinct rustling, paying to mind to it. “That’s alright, I know how important this is to you. Couldn’t forget it even if I tried.”

That brought a chuckle out of both of them, Daichi continuing soon after.

“I’ll get going then, gotta handle a few things first.”

This time, Koushi could make out the distinct noise of a car trunk slamming shut. Meaning his friend was already on his way to set up.

“...Of course. Thanks again, by the way.”

He heard what sounded like keys jingling, “No problem, talk to you later.”

With that, Koushi ended the call. Phone still on, he was left to look at the last app he had open, the screen still giving him live information by the second. Satisfied with what he saw, he excited the tracking software, swiftly pocketing the phone.          

Grabbing the still somewhat full wine glass on the countertop, Koushi made his way to the living room. Relaxing into the couch with a relieved sigh, he resigned himself to a waiting game, knowing it’d only be so long until he had you back, safe and wrapped in his arms.

Just where you should be.

_____

There weren’t many options: either hide in the shadows, and be at risk for unsuspected attacks, or remain in the safety of the street lights, exposed to any and all onlookers. Looking over your shoulder, not quite eyeing any one thing that meant certain danger, you chose the latter.

When the screams around you finally died down, fading into the background as you left it in the dust behind you, the sound of a distant rumbling came to the forefront. With a quick glance up, you could see that, even in the dimming light of the evening, the clouds above were growing thicker. Darkening and swirling in the sky, you knew that soon a storm would be upon you.

As the earthy aroma of approaching rain permeated your senses, your heart longed for the comfort back home. If it weren’t for that nearly indescribable need to keep moving away from Koushi, you’d be back there. Probably relaxing on the couch, a sedating melody coming from the record player. Another perfect Saturday night spent in your lovers presence.

You could practically feel the heat of the fireplace on your face if you focused hard enough.

However, that heat wasn’t coming from such a sanctuary, one who knows how many kilometers away by now. Rather, from the burning building in front of you.

Snapping out of that reminiscent trance, you came to an abrupt stop. Squinting a bit at the bright and flaming scene, you could just barely discern that the building was a police station.

The sight only brought a small quirk to your lips, knowing how useless they were to those like you.

Turning away from the building, you trained your goals on moving in the same direction, fearful of getting turned around and accidentally heading back towards home. Things once again fell into silence, only the sound of a looming and encroaching storm meeting your ears every ten minutes or so. Fatigue had set in long ago, leaving your steps sluggish, fighting every muscle in your body to keep up a consistent pace. Even if you weren’t moving fast, you were still moving.

Except, that too grew nearly impossible to reasonably manage.

The further you walked, the more disturbing sights you came upon. It seemed like all at once, things were hitting the fan. Corrupt scenes unfolding around you being horrifying to no ends.

Exiting an alleyway, the first thing you saw was a man stuffing a body into the trunk of a car. You couldn’t tell who the person was, or whether they were even alive. But those details weren’t remotely feasible, as the perpetrator caught you in his gaze.

Seeing your frozen stature, face riddled with fear, he only laughed to himself.

You were no threat to the claims of the night, so he dismissed you with ease. Leaving you in his wake as he drove off, you stayed put for an unknown amount of minutes.

The terrifying truth of what you were was unavoidable, and damn near immobilizing. Weak in everyone’s eyes, often your own included.

At some point you found the will to start moving again, only to soon pause for a breather. Mostly to ground yourself, you checked the time on your temporary phone.

It read just half past nine. In normal circumstances, you’d be in bed; or getting ready for bed, at the least. As a few droplets began falling from the now pitch black sky, you longed for safety under the covers of your bed. Bundled in soft blankets, a dry nightgown, and the soothingly mellow voice of Koushi next to you. Every night, without fail, he’d always remind you of how much he loved you, helping you fall fast asleep under the calmness he provided.

A shiver wracked your body, heart aching for his safety. Your finger hovered over the call button, one movement away from being scooped up by your saviour.

Your body was jolted out of the thought before you could bother with such a surrender.

Someone―a young girl, maybe in her early twenties, desperately clutched the sleeves of your dress. She looked up at you, expression riddled with a bone chilling dread. “Please help me! He’s...he’s trying to―”

Yet, just as she was about to finish, another set of hands painfully grasped your shoulders. A split second later and you were being thrown into the side of a building.

A man was yelling at you, quite loudly at that. Or maybe he was yelling at the girl―with the way you were sobbing, panic shutting down your better senses, it was too hard to tell. You couldn’t quite hear any one thing, the world falling into silence as the anxieties resting in your system spiked violently.

Your brain didn’t even register that you had bolted into a sprint. Not until, sheerly because your body couldn’t handle taking another step until you gave it at least a little break, you stopped, almost falling to your knees with how drained you were. Barely, you managed to keep yourself upright by leaning against a lamp post.

In that moment, there was only one thing going through your mind.

You wanted to go home.

Koushi’s home, which just as much belonged to you as it did him. That’s where you were meant to be. Not out here, by yourself in the middle of the night, rain coming down around you. Even if it was light, the slight dampness in your clothing had you convulsing in cold bodied trembles.

The phone was still clutched tightly in your hand. You knew what you needed to do.

And as the noise of gunshots rang out in the direction you came from, your plans shifted to do just that.

Shaken to your core, you shuffled into an alleyway. Seeking the refuge of a shelter to make that fated call, you blindly ventured deeper into the narrow passage. The saving grace that were streetlamp lights disappeared behind you, remnants of its glow doing little to help you see where you were going.

Doing nothing to help you see the trap you were walking directly into.

All at once, your knees buckled under you, a net you had stepped into lurching upwards. A shriek escaped your being as the intertwined rope cased around you, hoisting you into the air. Suspended only five five or so feet off the ground, the height wasn’t what sent terror coursing through your veins.

It was the fact that you were trapped, no amount of struggling enough to free you. And, because your phone had slipped out of your hand, through the holes of the net, and onto the pavement beneath you.

Out of reach, leaving you helpless to the whims of your sudden captor.

Just like that, the repeated calling for your lover spilled from your lips. Petrified in every sense, you wailed for Koushi to come and save you. Pleading cries for help were repeated until your throat grew hoarse. You only stopped when you physically couldn’t catch your breath.

But even that ceased as well, when a tall figure came into view.

You blearily wiped away the wetness pooling in your eyes, body uncomfortably folded by the sinch of the net as what looked to be a man stalked towards you.

“...Little things like you really shouldn’t be out on a night like this.”

As he drew closer, you could make out the short cut of his hazelnut hair, chiseled features, a broad frame shielded from the downpour by a waterproof jacket. Slowly, the stranger leaned down, picking up your fallen burner phone.

A small whimper escaped you, “Please…”

The deep baritone of his voice shook you as he spoke, “What, looking for this?” Mockingly, he waved the flimsy device back and forth, just out of arm's reach from you. He lowly chuckled to himself at the severely distraught look you gave him, and at the lifeline that was your phone.

The phone that, taking it in both hands, he snapped in half with ease.

Eyes blown wide, you watched in silent horror as the man tossed the unusable device aside, the noise of it clattering to the ground bouncing off the walls of the alleyway. Before you could even register what had happened, what was going to happen, the man was right in front of you.

You couldn’t even think of what to do or say as his hand reached through an opening in the net, harshly gripping your jaw and forcing you to face him.

His lips were pulled into a small and menacing grin, unspoken notions of his intentions laced into the way he regarded you as prey. A quiet hum resonated from him, scanning your features intently. Not before turning your head to the side ever so slightly, seemingly confirming what he already knew, he spoke up once again.

“...No wonder he loves you.”

The glint of a pocket knife flashed before your eyes, and a second later you were crashing to the ground. With the ropes holding you up now severed, the net fell down around you. As soon as you could stretch out your limbs, you were mindlessly scrambling away.

Your better intuitions were completely clouded over, escape once again being the only thing your body could try to achieve.

“Stop fucking struggling.” The words met your ears as an iron grasp wrapped around your ankle, roughly dragging you back to that spot a few feet away from your position, where you’d only just crawled from.

The assailant flipped you onto your back, “What the hell are you gonna do anyways? You’re not made to fight people like me off.” Strangled sobs left your system as he settled in between your legs, his hand gripping your throat. “I could snap your bones like a fucking twig, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.”

You attempted to sputter out a response, anything to deter the man who was unashamedly handling your much weaker body. Yet, the second your lips parted, a sharp sting bled across your cheek.

“What a dumb little girl you are―dumb enough to walk right into an obvious trap.”

As the glint of a blade returned, you could do nothing but lay there as the sharp edge ripped through the fabric of your dress. The front of it fell open, leaving your bare chest exposed to his eyes, save for the bra being the only thing to defend you.

You didn’t see the knife disappear, only knowing it had gone somewhere when his now free hand groped your breast.

“I mean, what the fuck did you think was going to happen coming out tonight?” The man above you laughed to himself, knowing you were too scared out of your mind to respond.

Meaning his orders were playing out as expected.

The grip on your throat tightened, leading you to space out as he continued the one sided and condescending conversation. “I bet you could’ve avoided this too. Poor thing―too stupid to get out of her own way.”

The pleading request repeated over and over in your mind, but you couldn’t force yourself to speak it. As another smack collided with your cheek, hearing going out in the ear that was affected by the force, those spiralling thoughts got worse, a nauseating feeling rolling in your stomach.

Pleasepleaseplease just stop.

All you wanted was to go home. You should’ve never left. You should’ve never tried to leave Koushi.

Why would you ever want to do that?

Finding yourself growing lightheaded, unable to take in enough oxygen to keep yourself conscious, you felt something inside of you disappear.

If you could describe it, the sensation would be like a sudden dislodge. Relieving, a weight on your body, one that wasn’t caused by a man pressing into you, vanishing entirely.

You still didn’t feel calm, system remaining corrupted with a near crushing fright in your drifting state. But whatever familiar sense of trepidation you once suffered from was now gone.

Hands falling limp at your sides, exhaustion finally getting the better of you as you no longer had it in you to fight off the stranger choking you out, your eyelids fluttered shut. You didn’t want to stop struggling, to give up against this seemingly unstoppable force, but you didn’t have much choice, did you?

Only, a violent and haggard fit of coughs spewed from you as the suffocating force pinning you down disappeared.

Breath quick, your intake and outtake of much needed air stuttering, you heaved weakly against the wet pavement. The first thing that flooded your senses was the patter of the rain hitting the ground around you. Then, it was the feeling of that rain landing on the skin of your face. Cold and cooling, easing the burning ache of your cheeks that had been repeatedly battered just moments ago.

As your eyes closed to bask in the relieving sensation, the droplets against you left, yet still the sound of rain falling down around you remained.

Upon opening your eyes, a swell of emotions ran over you. Tufts of grey hair hung above you, a deeply worried expression of the man you loved regarding your worn out and still shaking form.

“...K-Koushi?”

If it weren’t for the rain, both of you would know full well that the water streaming down your face wasn’t from the night’s downpour. But the hitch in your voice, the tremble in your lower lip―both served as clear displays of the anguish you experienced.

His hands cupped your face, gentle as always, especially now so as not to put pressure on the tender skin. Even with the commotion of the storm beating down around the two of you, his voice was as clear as day.

“I’m right here, pretty girl.”

_____

The silence that the sanctuary of Koushi’s home, your home, brought about was like balm to your oversensitive state. It wasn’t a deafening silence, per se. Because here and there, it still carried symphonies of the outside world, while the world right at your fingertips brought ones of safety inside such sturdy walls. Whether it be the muffled noises of overhead thunder, or the soothing sounds of rippling water as your fingers danced mindlessly underneath its surface.

The heat of the freshly drawn bath was doing wonders for your strained muscles, now feeling limp in Koushi’s arms as he held you from behind. With a deep sigh, lungs still burning from previous exertion, you leaned into him. It was easy to melt into the secondary warmth he provided, your partially bruised back pressing into his chest.

With the night’s activities washed from your bodies, you needed only to bask in the presence of the man you once feared you lost. The shift from one extreme to another, immobilizing terror to heart wrenching relief―nothing had ever made your head spin faster.

Now, while you let the humidity of the bathroom seep into your skin, the sweet scent of body wash meeting your senses, the invisible weight of guilt remained burning. Your eyebrows stayed knitted, a look of worry that Koushi couldn’t see.

But little did you know, he knew it’s what you felt. He knew everything about you, right down to the last little detail. So he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when your meek voice broke through the silence, spoken in a volume just barely above a whisper, purely because your vocal cords were shot from when he heard you calling for him only an hour ago.

“...I really am sorry, Koushi.”

He wrapped his arms around you tighter, thumb running back and forth against the bare skin of your arm. “If you’re sorry, then you’ll let me take care of you. No more messing around.”

...

It’s not that you didn’t want to let Koushi do as he pleased, it was that you didn’t know why he wished to do it in the first place. Even after all the time he’d spent devoted to tending to your every last need, the reasons as to why he did so could never quite stick.

You never asked him for any of this. He just assumed the role of your caretaker without batting an eye. It was obvious he cared about you, but still you had issues accepting his motivation for it.

Letting out a shaky breath, you spoke once again. “I just...I don’t understand why you want to so badly. It doesn’t make any sense, and―”

“I do it because I’m in love with you, isn’t it obvious?”

The playfulness in his questioning tone didn’t go unnoticed, but it still didn’t exactly calm all of your anxieties. At least, not until he continued with his speech, his actions following up with affirmations.

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hands wandered, mapping out the sensitivities of your body, starting where they rested near your chest.

“I have been since the moment I laid eyes on you, sweetheart…”

When his hands found purchase on your waist, tenderly squeezing the plush skin, you harshly sucked in a breath of air. He kneaded the tense muscles of your body, speaking low, but still sending shivers down your spine at it’s proximity.

“All of your little quirks, your gentleness, how delicate you are...You’re so impossibly perfect.”

Pausing, Koushi pressed a light kiss against your temple, “...Of course I want to take care of you.”

With each word spoken, every syllable filled with innate devotion, your mind of worrying thoughts surrendered to him. Not given much choice in the matter, and not wanting to choose any alternative if there was one, you let his admiration slowly consume you whole.

“I wanna make sure nobody can hurt you, make sure you get what you deserve…”

Koushi’s hands drifted lower, deft fingers lightly trailing your body, teasing touches only serving to stir another type of heat inside you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him cup your heat, middle finger gently pressing in between your folds.

“...And, that you get what you need.”

You softly whimpered as the pads of his fingers came into contact with your clit, the exhaustion you felt amplifying your sensitive nerves. Applying just the right amount of pressure, and in the perfect spot that had you yearning for more, Koushi skilfully circled the puffy nub.

He smiled to himself as you weakly squirmed in his hold, knowing that in your state, this was the finishing touch to his game. One that he’d been playing since the day he met you, and that now was about to reach its end. Where he’d finally have you right where he wanted you, and you’d both be happy for a long time to come.

Removing the pressure from his ministrations, he bowed his head so that his lips were just ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

Tears pricking in your eyes at the carnal desire you felt from even the slightest of touches, you found yourself near immediately calling for him, begging for his help without a hint of recollection from the memory that held resemblance.

“Please Koushi...I need you.”

With those small and desperate pleas, Koushi found that there was nothing he wanted to hear more in that moment. The desperation laced in your tone was the sweetest thing he’d ever listened to, and so he vowed to himself that he’d make you repeat those wanton admissions time and time again. As often as he needed them, and as often as you needed him. Which would be in your every waking second from now on, finally.

He couldn’t help but encourage you even more, the sound of your whimpers as his fingers worked you over being the most addictive drug.

“That’s it...I’ll give you everything you need. All you have to do is let me―you can do that, right?”

Only wanting to please him more, full body acceptance gripping your being, you responded by quickly nodding, incoherent words escaping you without thought.

Koushi could only laugh at your reaction, adorable in every sense. But, he wanted to hear you say it, ever the demanding one, and always wanting you to play by his rules.

Knowing you were teetering on the edge of release, his fingers slowed their pace, relenting to an achingly teasing method of feathered touches. He spoke one last question, something to finalize his long maintained agenda, goals set on crystallizing your reality for the both of you.

“Promise that you’ll let me care for you, no matter what.”

At his question, the only thing more powerful than the feelings burning inside of you from his sinfully skilled movements was how you felt about him.

The way he made you feel safe, even on the darkest of nights. How he wrapped you in an embrace that would snuff out the flames of self-doubt without fail, each and every time. He never missed a single thing about you, from the obvious outward traits, to the hidden emotions that suddenly didn’t seem like things you needed to conceal―not with him.

There wasn’t a single think about Koushi that you could bring yourself to hate.

Because right then, you loved him, just as much as he loved you.

Koushi felt like home. He was your home.

A home you never had until now. And one you never wanted to leave.

Resigning yourself to him completely, leaving not a single thing that would keep you from submitting to his passion, you held nothing back. Forever and always, you would give yourself up to him, content at the knowledge that you hadn’t a thing to fret over so as long as you were with him

“...I promise.”

[flightlessangelwings]

Restraint

Comandante Veracruz x afab!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (18+ only), bondage, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, toys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare

gif by @thewaythisis​

~

You whimpered as you tugged at your restraints. You found yourself on your back on Veracruz’s bed, naked, with your limbs each tied to the corners. He stood at the foot of the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face. He always enjoyed when you were splayed out and completely helpless for him. You looked up at him with half lidded eyes as you silently pleaded for him to do something, anything, other than stand there and watch you squirm.

“Do you like that cariño?” he teased you as he circled the bed, “Knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” Veracruz ghosted a hand over your skin, “And you’re helpless to do anything about it…”

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips as you strained against your binds.

Veracruz had come back from a mission in a mood, as he usually did. But this time, it wasn’t because something went wrong. Instead, his superior left him with all the clerical work, which sat on his desk at the far corner of his bedroom untouched. The comandante decided to have some fun with you before he got to the more mundane part of his duties.

This time, however, “fun” had a different meaning, and you quickly figured that out as he remained fully dressed while you were completely nude and bound to his bed. A weak whine escaped your lips as you begged him to do something, anything, other than just stare at you.

“Always so needy, cariño,” Veracruz’s voice was low as he ran his fingers up and down your body in feather-light touches.

“Since when do you complain, V?” your eyes fluttered shut but you grinned at your comeback.

“Oh do not mistake my remarks for complaints,” he responded as he reached under his bed for the little black box he kept. At the rustle of movement, you opened your eyes and watched as he took out a thick vibrator with a notch at the base. You licked your lips as you shimmied your hips in anticipation.

He carefully kept his eyes off of you; Veracruz knew if he saw the lustful look in your eyes that his resolve would break, and he wanted to draw this out as long as he possibly could. With his eyes focused on the toy, he coated it generously with lube before he set the box down and settled between your forced open legs.

It was only then that Veracruz let himself look up at you. Your eyes met for several intense moments, and you knew exactly what his gaze meant without any words needed. No one could read him quite like you could. It was a look that said you were in for a more thrilling time, and your safe word was always in play.

You nodded, the silent contract sealed, and the comandante slowly pushed the toy into you. A moan from deep in the back of your throat filled the room as he stuffed you full with the vibrator. Veracruz felt his cock twitch in his pants at the sounds you made, but he ignored it.

He watched with bated breath as the toy disappeared inside you, and he didn’t stop until only the handle stuck out and the notch was pressed firmly against your clit. You panted and writhed against his touch as you felt your pussy stretch around it. You then let your head fall back against the pillows.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you arched your back to try to feel your comandante more, but you whined when you couldn’t feel more than just his hands on you. For several breaths, you kept your eyes closed as you adjusted to the girth of the toy. When you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised to find that he no longer sat between your legs.

“V…?” you looked around the room and you exhaled sharply when you saw he sat at his desk instead, “V! You...Ahh...”

He didn’t even turn around when he used the remote to turn the vibrator on, even when you moaned at the sensation. Veracruz turned his focus to the paperwork on his desk as he left the vibrator on the lowest setting. You mewled as rocked your hips as much as you could, but you couldn’t move too much with how tightly Veracruz bound you. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but after some time, you felt the vibrations become more intense. Your moans got louder every time you felt him turn the vibrator up; even in your haze, you weren’t sure how the comandante was able to keep his focus.

Suddenly, Veracruz turned it all the way up to the highest intensity and you couldn’t help the way you screamed in response. You felt your whole body tremble, and with the way you bucked your hips, the toy slid just enough to hit that sweet spot inside you. Your breathing became more ragged and your cries pitched even higher; you knew you were close.

But just as you were about to come, Veracruz turned the vibrator off completely. You whined as you tried to chase your climax, but you felt it fade quickly at the lack of stimulation. “V…” your voice was pathetic and you knew it, but you didn’t care.

He glanced over at you and licked his lips before he quickly turned away again. Your heavy breaths filled the room as Veracruz continued to work at his desk. His cock strained in his pants, and it took everything within him to not launch himself at you. But, he knew that it would be well worth it if he waited. Plus, he wanted to tease you some more. He didn’t want to fuck you until you were in tears and begged for him.

Once you were quiet, Veracruz started over again and flicked the vibrator on low. This time, your cries were louder to begin with, after having already been edged once. He kept it on low until he finished a page, and when he turned it over, he simultaneously increased the intensity. You cried out at the feeling, and it became a new pattern to turn it up once he finished a sheet.

After a few more pages, the vibrator was back at its highest intensity and you arched your back as moans and curses flowed from your mouth. Again, you felt your orgasm build and you groaned as your legs started to tremble. 

But, just like before, Veracruz shut the toy off just as you were about to come.

“V… please…” you whined as you strained against your binds. You flopped your head back as you choked back a sob at the loss.

He let out a low chuckle at your predicament, but made no move to do anything to help you. Instead, he started the cycle again, and again he stopped just as you were about to come. Every time he edged you, you cried out more desperately, and it only fueled Veracruz on more.

Tears filled your eyes as Veracruz repeated the cycle a few more times. Every time you cried out, you thought he would finally give in, but his sense of restraint was stronger than you thought. Once you were a completely blubbering mess, however, he finally stood and crossed the room to look at you again. Your eyes opened when you felt his own intense gaze on you, and you pouted as you pleaded for him to finally touch you.

Veracruz leaned in and hovered over you, but did not touch you just yet, “You look so delectable like this, cariño,” his voice was low as he spoke in your ear and bucked his hips against you so you could feel how hard he was, “You make it very hard to control myself.”

“Then don’t,” your voice was just above a whisper, “Please V…”

The groan that he let out went straight to your core and you clenched hard around the toy. His lips found your neck and sucked hard at the sensitive spot there, which made you cry out. Veracruz worked at that same spot until he was sure he left a big enough mark, then pulled away completely from you.

You whined at the loss of contact, but your whimpers were soon replaced with moans when he turned the vibrator on again. Veracruz watched you writhe for him for several minutes before he went back to his desk. As much as he wanted to pound into you until you had no voice anymore, he also wanted to drag this out as long as he possibly could.

Veracruz decided to take pity on you this time, however, and he left the toy on low while he finished the last of his work. Your moans that had started loud soon turned more muted and when the comandante turned back around, he saw that you drifted between sleep and consciousness. But even as you were half asleep, you still made such delicious noises and you still rocked your hips against the toy.

That was when the comandante’s resolve finally broke.

Just as you felt yourself start to drift off to fully fall asleep, Veracruz turned the vibrator all the way up and you jumped awake with a powerful orgasm. Your mouth hung open as you cried out in ecstasy and waves of pleasure crashed throughout your whole body. Tears fell down your face with abandon as you were finally allowed the release you had chased all evening. If it weren’t for the restraints, you would have flailed around everywhere, but your limbs remained bound to his bed.

“Is there a word you need to say to me, cariño?” he asked as he turned off the toy once you completely rode out your orgasm.

“No,” you breathed, “I just need a minute.”

You heard the faint beeps of his watch, and you knew he set a timer for exactly one minute. You closed your eyes and focused on your breaths as you calmed your spiraling emotions. After you counted what you guessed was one minute in your head, you mentally prepared yourself for him again. But, one minute came and went, and Veracruz was still quiet. In fact, he had actually set his watch for three minutes, but he was not going to tell you that.

While you took the time to recover, Veracruz stripped himself of his clothes and just watched you. Your breasts rose and fell with each breath, and the tears dried on the sides of your face. You looked a mess, but you never looked more enticing to Veracruz.

“V…” your voice was weak and you kept your eyes closed, “Please… I need you…”

He answered you with a growl as he slowly pulled the toy out of you. His cock twitched at the way you whimpered at the loss, but he made up for it by quickly lining himself up at your entrance. He paused before he pushed in, however, “Look at me, cariño.”

You opened your eyes slowly and were met with his own dark ones on you. It was only when you held his gaze that Veracruz pushed into you. You held his gaze even as you dropped your head back into the pillow as he stretched you out even more than the toy did. When he bottomed out inside of you, Veracruz let out a low groan that made you clench around him.

All the teasing he inflicted on you affected Veracruz as well, and he started pounding into you right away. Your moaning filled the room as you strained against the binds you were still in. He gripped onto your hips as he thrust himself in and out of you at a furious pace that he knew drove you wild. 

Veracruz moved one hand to rub at your clit, and he could tell by the way you arched your back and cried out his name that you were close again, “You have one more for me, cariño?” he cooed in a low voice, “Come for me.”

Just like that, your second orgasm took you over as you came with a loud scream. Veracruz wanted to watch you come undone again, but the need to come was too great, and he leaned forward to cover your body with his own as he came inside you with a growl. His arms trembled on either side of you as he fucked you through both your climaxes.

After one final thrust, Veracruz collapsed down on top of you, which made you grunt at the sudden weight. But, he was always careful and you were more surprised than hurt. The room felt warm, especially with the comandante’s body on top of yours as you both took several long, slow breaths to recover. You closed your eyes as you let your limbs go limp; there wasn’t much else you could do to move anyway with your ankles and wrists still bound to the corners of the bed. 

Veracruz laid still with his head buried in the crook of your neck and his cock still deep inside you. He placed father-light kisses to your skin, so light that if you hadn’t been so still you wouldn’t have felt them. His hands caressed your hips as he drew small circles with his thumbs. It wasn’t until you let out a soft groan that he finally pushed himself up and worked on freeing you.

He was silent, and you kept still with your eyes closed while you felt blood flow into your limbs for the first time in hours. Veracruz gently rolled your joints in his hands to make sure you were ok before he set the limb down on the bed and moved to the next one. Once you were completely unrestrained, he ran his hands up and down your body as a way to check for any injuries.

Satisfied that you were unharmed, Veracruz laid down next to you and pulled you into his arms. You happily obliged and rested your head on his chest and you let out a contented sigh when you felt him wrap his arms around you. You always loved the way the comandante wasn’t afraid to be rough with you, and he satisfied you like no one else, but you also greatly enjoyed these tender moments afterward when he took such good care of you. It was one of many aspects to him that only you got to see, and it was the one you were the most fond of.

“Feel better, comandante?” you asked with a soft chuckle after you felt him give you an extra squeeze to let you know that he was back from his post-sex haze.

That made him let out a single sharp laugh, “Yes cariño,” his voice was low and hushed. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that and you drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat. 

~

Notes: It’s been a minute since I posted about my asshole husband and I’ve missed him. This was actually an idea I’ve had in my head for awhile and I’ve gotten thirst asks about it too so this is a long time coming lol. I hope this makes up for the Veracruz drought lately tho!

[feliix]

more than friends (with benefits) ↠ felix

↠ Felix x Reader

↠ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, FWB!AU

↠ Rating: M (18+) ↠ Word Count: 2k

↠ Summary: You always thought being friends with benefits with Felix was a dream. At least, that was until the benefits starting outweighing the friendship and your feelings got sucked in.

↠ Warnings: friends to lovers, fwb to lovers, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, praise, multiple orgasms, mutual pining

↠ A/N: hi sorry this is very unedited I might go in and fix stuff later sorry Im lazy right now and banner creds to me okay enjoy!

“So wet for me,” his deep, gravelly voice fills your ears, the room spinning around you with each buck of his hips. Teeth sinking into your lip, you grasp for the sheets beside you. His rhythm is quick, persistent, and you’re unable to catch your breath.

“Felix,” his name leaves your lips in a high pitched whine. It's getting harder to hold on with a pace like this. Had you not already cum twice just tonight, maybe your stamina would be a bit higher. But the familiar knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter as his thrusts persist. 

It's not long until you're coming undone around him. The force of his hips driving into you, the firm grip his hand has on your ass sets you aflame. Just a few more powerful ruts; he’s angling himself just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. And that's when your legs begin to shake, the force from your third orgasm taking over.

A gentle scream escapes your mouth as you ride out your high, Felix’s pace only quickening to grant himself an orgasm of his own. Oversensitivity sets in quickly causing your eyes to slam shut in dismay; mind blurry with small white stars as your pussy continues to spasm around him.

“So fucking tight,” Felix’s thrusts persist through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking and all you can offer is the tightening spasms of your pussy. You clench around him rapidly, enticing him to come to his finish. “ Fuck, baby. Such a good slut for me.”

Unable to catch your breath as your orgasm begins to subside, the sound of his voice shooting right to your core and letting out an extra gush of arousal. Felix takes this as a sign to go harder, busing himself by pounding into you. Each time his hips meet your ass he leaves a gentle slap on your supple skin. When he bottoms out your back arches instinctively. The pressure of his tip on your sweet spot drives you wild, your fingers grabbing for the sheets underneath you to hold onto. 

But him fucking you from behind causes you to miss the sweet contortion of his face as he reaches his high. You can only feel the grip he has on your waist tighten, the pads of his fingers pressing deeply into your skin as he ruts into you with such fervor. 

He doesn’t pull out, you’ve already told him that he doesn’t have to. All that's on your mind is being filled to the brim with Felix’s cum. “Fuck,” you’re aching for his release, squeezing your core as hard as you can to ease it from him, “want you to fill me up.”

With a few especially hard thrusts Felix is collapsing over you, holding you close as his cum paints your walls. The pace of his thrusts slows as soon as his hot body presses against yours, eyes fluttering shut as you both come down from your highs.

If you didn't feel his heavy breathing fanning over the back of your neck you may have forgotten where you were. The labored sound of breathing fills the room around you. His rapid heartbeat pounds against your back; it's slowing now, that's how you know he’s about to pull out.

It's the same routine every time. He comes over, you fuck, you cuddle, he leaves.

Which is okay, the two of you aren’t dating or anything. You’re friends with benefits; emphasis on the benefits half and a little less stress on the friends part. This isn’t how it’s always been. Things used to be the other way around, ironically. 

Felix was your best friend, it wasn’t until you initiated this little arrangement that things changed. 

It’s a blur how it all came about actually. Just one day you got a little too worked up while looking at his plush lips, making a move and changing the dynamic between the two of you forever. After letting him fuck you once, you never came back from that.

The Netflix nights faded into the dark as the Netflix & chill nights came more frequently. It isn’t something that you noticed at first, you were into it, gosh, why wouldn't you be? So many girls would love to be in your place – hooking up with their highly attractive guy best friend. But over time you began to miss the relationship you used to have. Watching a movie without pausing halfway through to have sex is unheard of now. You can’t remember the last time you were actually able to do that. 

The worst part is you think you might be missing something else. The more you hookup the more you find yourself longing for him – not just his touch. When he leaves, you feel lonely. Not just the ‘I’m alone’ lonely, either. You want to be with him all the time, spend time doing fun couple-y things in addition to the hot sex you have every night. You want more from this, you need to be more than friends.

And before you know it, Felix’s body is relaxing as he pulls out of you slowly, a trail of cum following in its path beginning to drip down your thigh. A deep sigh leaves your lips when the weight of Felix’s body flops down onto the mattress next to you. You want him to know you’re bothered, you’re just too scared to bring it up on your own.

It doesn’t seem that he notices, though, he just lets out an exhausted grunt in return. In a split second reaction, you sigh again, trying to cover it up by extending your limbs to look like you’re stretching. The second one may have been a bit too dramatic; Felix noticed it this time, the look on his face riddled with confusion.

“Something wrong?”

Oh, great. Well, you got what you wanted, not having to start the conversation but you’ll definitely be the one to ruin it. You could just deflect, say ‘nothing’ and carry on the way you were – but that won’t do much to help your own feelings. 

“Actually, yeah.”

The phrase surprises you just as much as it surprises Felix, you just do a better job of covering it up than he does. His eyes are wide, head turned in your direction now as he begins to sit up. Luckily both of your clothes were in close vicinity – this probably isn't a conversation that neither of you wants to have naked.

Or have in general, for that matter. But getting dressed is a nice way to avoid eye contact, which seems to be the only thing you’ll be able to avoid in this awkward moment.

“What’s up?”

The concern in his voice is prevalent. He’s doing what he can to stay calm but deep down he’s worried. The meek thought of you cutting him off crosses Felix’s mind briefly; a pang of anxiety cuts through him like a knife. And he doesn’t do a great good job of hiding it, but thankfully you’re too caught up in putting on a shirt that you don't notice. 

Guilt starts eating away at you once you realize what you’re doing, what you’re about to tell him. This could ruin everything between you. You don’t think he’ll cut you off, no; but chances are you tell him and things will change forever. The second you speak up about it will determine your future with Felix – if there even is one.

“Have you ever thought about,” your voice stalls, letting a deep breath pause your thoughts in an attempt to ease your mind, “not just having sex anymore?”

“You wanna stop hooking up?” 

“N-no, that's not what I meant!” The words fly out of your mouth more forceful than you intended, and before you're able to stop yourself from spilling them. A puzzled look quickly crosses Felix’s face as he waits for you to continue. There’s a strange tension beginning to surround you, making your palms sweat and stomach twist. 

The air is feeling heavier as thoughts are flooding through your mind. The longer you prolong this conversation the more it's going to hurt you in the end, “Things have just...changed.” 

His head nods along with your words, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his face sinks. Somewhere along the timeline of between being best friends and friends with benefits, that friendship you had was lost. It isn't just you who realized that.

“Because I have feelings for you?”

“Y-you what?” 

You have to pinch yourself to make sure that this is real and what you heard Felix just said was true. But he finds humor in your response, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as your jaw slowing drops. All this time and you both have been oblivious to each other's feelings…

“I thought you knew that…” His voice is soft, trailing off at the end as embarrassment creeps up. A rosy blush tints his freckled cheeks, soon covering them as he buries his head in his hands. 

“You never told me that,” you chuckle endearingly, butterflies pounding at your chest as heat rises to your cheeks, “did you know that I have feelings for you?”

“Noooo,” his voice is playful, head sinker deeper into his hands as small giggles leave his lips.

It a split-second reaction your hands are taking hold of his wrists, gently moving them from his face to look at his eyes. They’re narrowed into squints, his face squished into a smiling mess as his ears are red with embarrassment. 

“So were you just not gonna tell me?” You say in a joking tone, doing your best to ease Felix’s nerves. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

The mood of the room suddenly shifts. Felix’s smile is quick to fade, his cheeks settling back to normal as his eyes slightly widen. Your heart twists with his words – the thought of losing him to something so silly hits you like a million bricks. Sucking in a deep breath, he reaches for your hand, noticing the change of your expression and giving a sympathetic smile. Your eyes follow the trace of his tumb over your hand, stroking the skin lightly as you sit in silence. 

You wonder if that thought has weighed heavy on his mind for a while, how long he’s had feelings for you. It must have hurt him feeling like this was nothing more than sex to you; if only he knew.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s eyes light up at your words, his hand gripping yours a little firmer now. The butterflies you first felt are still there, flapping away in your stomach each time the corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Just when you thought you couldn’t fall any harder there he is, cheeks blushing as his head turns to face you. A swift hand is brought to your neck, holding it as he effortlessly moves in towards you. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as he moves closer, focusing your eyes on each of his features; catching his tongue swipe across his bottom lip. His face is just centimeters from yours, his eyes staring down at your lips and his hot breath fanning across the soft skin of your cheeks.

“I love you,” his deep voice whispers over your lips. You aren’t given enough time to return the words before he’s moving in closer.

Time stills in slow motion when his soft lips meet yours; the world could stop turning but all that would matter is that you are here, right now, in this moment with Felix.

‘More Than Friends (With Benefits)’ is copyright 2020 @chaangbin​​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[steviespanties]

Since Steve’s parents are out of town so often, he and Billy have a habit of hooking up at Steve’s place. Steve’s room is nice and all, but Billy has a thing for fucking Steve in his mom’s bed;; ((HI I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOUR STORIES THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH MASTERPIECES💖💖))

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH AND ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS!!! (This sent me down an interior decorating rabbit hole trying to figure out what Steve’s mom’s bed- and then her own room might look like😅😂 Please imagine a layout similar to this, but with another window on the other side of the bed for more light. The ‘sofa’ and bed look a lot more like this, but the colors and style are more similar to this and this room.) 2.2k words, rated E. Steve POV, some manhandling, some frottage, some rimming and dirty talk. Anal sex. Ya know. My usual.

Steve’s parents have a big enough house (and are rich enough) that his mom has an entire bedroom for herself. She calls it her boudoir, because it’s where her walk-in closet is and where she keeps all her fancy makeup, lesser used jewelry and perfumes. There’s a massive four-poster bed with floor-length drapes matching the curtains, a chaise lounge, a vanity, all in creamy white and bathed in warm lamp light. 

Before he gets together with Billy, Steve doesn’t even think about it’s existence. It’s just another empty room, after all. The most he sees of the house are the entrance, kitchen, living room and the walk upstairs to his bedroom with his own bathroom. Hell, sometimes it slips his mind that he technically lives in what counts in Hawkins as a mansion.

Billy, however, becomes obsessed with the ‘boudoir’ in particular. 

The first time he's supposed to really stay over, not just crash in Steve’s room and fuck him into his bed at 3am, he steps through the front entrance, whistles after a survey of the hallway and goes “Aren’t you gonna show me around?”

“Yeah, sure. Just take a pair of house shoes from over there.” Steve gestures towards the shoe rack in question and Billy’s expression goes from amused to disbelieving.

“Seriously?”

Steve glares at him. “Yeah. Seriously. My parents put in new flooring over the summer and now everything has to look pristine for the two times a year they have visitors over.”

It's such an unnecessary, stupid rule to enforce all of a sudden when Steve has rarely worn shoes around the house anyways. 

He’s barefoot when it’s warm outside and leaves his shoes by the front door to change into thick wool socks during the cold months. And somehow, his parents still have found a new way to make him feel like he’s walking on eggshells in his own home.

Still, he watches Billy sullenly take off his shoes with growing amusement that gradually lightens the bad mood Steve’s gotten into just thinking about it. He figures he can give Billy a quick tour of the house and then order pizza. Watch a movie, fuck in an actual bed instead of getting each other off in the cramped backseats of their cars.

What happens instead is that Billy spends a ridiculous amount of time dragging Steve through his own home. He looks into guest rooms. Shoves his nose into cabinets. Looks out of windows like he’s staking out the neighborhood. (Woods. The neighborhood is mostly woods.)

“What are you, a spy?” Steve jokingly asks when Billy lifts up a painting to peek behind, like he’s looking for a safe. Billy scoffs, all mock-offended. But Steve can see a hint of a blush form on his cheeks. Gotcha. It’s kinda sweet how curious he is about the place, even if his main complaint is that it “feels like a show house.” Steve doesn’t have the heart to point out that he’s not too far off.

It’s when they step into his mom’s room that a predatory glint enters Billy’s eyes. “Ohh, is this where Mama Harrington sleeps?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. She wanted a room to get ready ‘in peace’. I’m pretty sure she just wants to drink prosecco in peace.” He watches Billy’s fingers trail over the fabric of one of the creamy white curtains framing the window. They part and his rings glint in the sunlight he’s suddenly bathed in. When he turns back around his hair is lit up gold and frames his head like a halo. Steve licks his lips. The fun thing about dating Billy is that he not only matches Steve in terms of libido, but seems to have a sixth sense for the moment Steve’s thoughts get distracted by his gorgeous everything.

Or maybe Steve just isn’t very subtle.

That glint in Billy’s eyes turns into hungry laser focus. Sets him into motion until he’s all pressed against Steve, a hot line of unrelenting muscle pushing him closer to the bed until they tip over and onto the mattress. Half hidden by more curtains hanging from the canopy. Sunlight follows them.

White teeth flash in an easy grin, quick and sweet, and then Billy’s lips are on Steve’s. His body weight pushes Steve into the creamy white bed cover and the air out of his lungs in a huffed laugh. Underneath him the texture of the blanket- distinct raised ribbing- digs into his skin. Billy’s hands dig into his hair.

The slick heat of Billy’s mouth and his thigh shoved between Steve’s legs is intoxicating. Makes it impossible to form a coherent thought when his focus narrows down on Billy on top of him, curls just long enough to fall down and tickle Steve’s face. He makes the most delicious sound when Steve grabs his ass and pulls him closer, till their hips are lined up just right. Steve pulls. Billy pushes. Like a conversation in a language purely made of heat and pressure, hitching breaths and choked moans. Against his own growing erection, painfully trapped in his jeans, he can feel Billy fill out as well. The pleasure is maddening. Enough to make Steve feel a burst of wetness pulse from his dick into his underwear. Enough to make him roll his hips up, searching for a better angle.

“Billy,” he sighs, not sure what he wanted to say afterwards. Just enjoys saying his name.  

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” Billy complains in response, like he picked up whatever thought Steve dropped in the minuscule space between them. They break out into a familiar flurry of limbs and discarded clothes. A condom packet and a small bottle of lube make it from Billy’s discarded jacket onto the comforter next to Steve’s head. He snorts.

“You sure you weren’t a boy scout at some point? Feels like you’re always prepared to get your dick wet.”

Billy rolls his eyes, fond smile belying his annoyance. “Shut up. Turn around.” His voice has taken on that deep, rough tone indicating how much he’s turned on. Steve leans back instead, takes his dick in hand. Enjoys the rough drag of his dry palm when he drags it up in a loose grip. Just enough to tease.  Billy raptly follows the movement. “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.”

Oh, he loves this game. Put up a token bit of protest when Billy gets bossy, until he gets impatient and starts dragging Steve around until he’s nothing but putty underneath his hands.

“Show me your pretty hole, babe. I won’t ask again.” 

Steve’s dick pulses in his hand. He watches Billy with half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles shift, getting ready to move. Hungry and powerful, like a big wildcat.

In the next second, he’s on Steve. Makes him gasp out an involuntary yelp when he easily flips him and drags him up by his hips. Until he’s on his knees, face buried in the bed cover and hot breath suddenly ghosts over his hole. There’s barely enough time to reorient himself before the scratch of Billy’s mustache and the slick warmth of his tongue press into his crack.

“Ah, fuck yes.”

He’s never done this before Billy. Not with any of the girls he fucked or dated. Not with Tommy, who he’s traded sloppy, shameful handjobs and blowjobs with. He doesn’t think he can ever get enough of feeling Billy’s tongue on his rim, swirling around until he’s dripping with saliva. Pushing inside where he’s sensitive, pressure and stretch of his hole making him squirm and push his hips back immediately.

It’s almost embarrassing how greedy he is for Billy’s mouth on him. His lips wrapped around his dick. His tongue shoved deep into his hole, held in place by those warm hands on his asscheeks. Holding him open so Billy can get even deeper, making him moan and drool into the blanket beneath him. It’s like a pulse, curls into him till his dick pushes out another spurt of precome and he can feel himself twitch, heavy and aching between his legs.

A slicked up finger joins Billy’s tongue. Makes the stretch just a bit more intense, but still so, so good. Billy only comes up for air when he adds a second finger. Steve can feel him rest his cheek on his ass, probably watching the movement of his fingers up close. He seems to have a thing for the sight of Steve’s rim stretched, his hole filled up and glistening.

“Gonna make you a complete mess in your mom’s bed,” Billy huffs into his skin. “Gonna make you cry and cream yourself all over her sheets.” He thrusts deeper and stretches his fingers until they tug at Steve’s hole and he groans with the ache.  “Better get going then,” he tries to taunt. It falls flat with all that desperation laced through his words.  The thing is, provoking Billy only gets you so far. Steve can tease him into impatience, but once he’s fully grasped control, he revels in it. Basks in Steve’s frenzied, futile attempts at irritating him. Like he’s had his chance, but the game is already won.

Steve doesn’t mind losing that much anyways.

“Just you wait,” Billy says fondly.

All Steve can focus on for a while is that glorious, slick movement of Billy’s fingers. The way he pushes in and out of him, stretches his rim and his insides, rubs over that spot inside of him that makes him frantically claw at the textured bed cover underneath him. Just long enough to make him whine and push back, pulse around a third finger that stretches him even wider.

At some point, when he’s reduced to a sweat-slick line of tightly wound pleasure, he finds himself empty. Barely registers the sound of a ripped open condom wrapper. Warm, humid breath over his spine that wanders up up up until there’s lips and teeth on his shoulder and Billy’s cock slowly pushes inside.

There’s a growing spot of drool-wet fabric his face presses into that swallows some of his moans. When Billy moves, satisfied sighs and barely coherent praises tumbling from his lips, Steve grasps the bed cover tight. 

Billy’s hips find a rolling, unrelenting rhythm. The drag of his cock is a drug Steve can’t get enough of. Dreams about, just as much as he dreams about the tight heat of Billy around his dick.

He wishes he could turn around and admire Billy’s flushed face. Hold him between his spread legs. Get lost in his eyes and dizzy from his freckles. But Billy’s weight on his back and his mouth sucking hickeys into the back of his neck isn’t bad either. He tries to hold himself up, tries to concentrate on carrying that weight on his back, but with each thrust inside it’s like his knees spread wider and his elbows sink down until he’s pressed flat onto the bed. And then his dick makes contact with the bed cover and gets pushed right into it right along Billy’s thrusts.

“Ah!” The moan is embarrassingly loud. Louder than any other noise he’s made so far. Of course, Billy picks up on it.

“You gonna be a good boy and blow your load all over your mommy’s sheets?”

“Shut- shut up, fuck.” Billy just laughs, voice shot to hell.

Even if Steve wanted to, he can’t escape that mouthwatering pleasure the additional drag of rough fabric against his dick provides. Because even if he wanted to try, he can’t pull away from Billy’s weight on top of him. His heavy, thick cock inside of him that holds him open and fills him up.

He comes with a sob. Pushes his face harder into wet fabric. Pushes his dick through his own mess. Pushes his hips back to meet Billy’s thrusts, even when it becomes just a bit too much.

Billy rests his entire weight on him when he comes with a deeply satisfied groan. Through their aftershocks, he buries his face in Steve’s hair and they rest in companionable silence.

It’s not the last time they end up fucking on that bed, no matter how many times Steve complains about the laundry with flushed cheeks.

...

Steve isn’t enough of an idiot to not understand that Billy likes to fuck him in his mom’s bed because he likes the conquest of a room that’s ‘forbidden’. He’s the same at parties, likes to sneak into rooms he’s not supposed to be in. Likes the thrill of doing something nasty with Steve in a place his mom will walk into and never even suspect what’s happened.

And Billy? Billy doesn’t want to admit it, especially not to Steve’s face, but... the way Steve’s hair looks against the creamy-white sheets in his mom’s bedroom? The soft yellow glow of light, the blush that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, to his chest faster than it does anywhere else- it’s addictive.

The best part, the one they both like a little too much is what happens afterwards. When the raised ribbing of the bed cover has left indents on Steve’s face where it’s been pressed down. On his arms and knees. On his back, where only Billy can see and trace it for the rest of the night, reverent and sweet.

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

[inseongsfoxybae]

It’s okay

Pairing: Optional bias (H/N) + Female Reader

Genre: Angst + Fluff

Warnings: Desperate cries(?)

Words: +1,5k

Author’s message: Hey, foxies! Here’s a little message for our boys who are suffering because of Kingdom. Hope you like it ❤❤ Foxy kisses 😘

P.S: As english is not my mother language, it may contain misspelled. Also, sorry for any other mistakes :)

~

It's Kingdom recording day and all of you were super excited about SF9's performance - you, your boyfriend, the boys. All of them have been worked so hard for this episode and you couldn’t wait to have news from your babies.

H/N left early this morning, giving you a tight hug and a passionate kiss before closing the door behind him. You knew it would take a long time, so you just did your things, trying not to think too much about your excitement for this special day. 

It was late at night when he messaged you: Baby, you can sleep. We still don’t finish here. You tried to fight your sleepiness and wait for him, but soon your tiredness washed over you and you fell asleep on your bed, your phone resting right next to your hand. 

Hours later, you opened your eyes and turned around to his side of the bed only so see yourself still alone, the sheets beside you cold and untouched. You reached for your phone to check, but there were no messages from your boyfriend, so you texted him: Babe, where are you? Is everything okay with your recording?

For the first time, you felt something bothering you, a discomfort you didn’t know, a sudden sadness growing into your chest. You got up and tried to focus on doing simple house tasks, like cleaning your room and preparing one of his favourite meals for when he got home, but that heavy feeling was taking control over you. 

Afternoon comes and he didn’t have answered back yet. You even texted their manager, but no response as well. So, you just sat on your comfy couch in your small living room and waited for him, glancing at the phone all the time to not miss any notice he could give to you. But nothing happened. 

~

It’s already night when you finally hear the beep of your door opening. You immediately get up, but your numb limbs can’t move more than that. From your spot in the living room, you hear his bag being thrown on the floor and a deep sigh leaves his lips. You listen to his heavy steps, carrying the weight of his exhausted body and heart. 

Once he enters the room, he finds you waiting for him with a small smile on your lips but teary eyes before he can say anything. He hesitantly walks to you with the saddest expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hey”, you quietly say, unable to keep your smile as you saw him so miserable.

"Can you hug me?", his voice cracks and he breaks down when you wrap your arms around his waist. 

H/N sobs desperately in your arms, hugging you tight with all the strength remaining on his aching body, helplessly gripping your shirt as his cries fill your small shared apartment. 

You let him cry, pouring all of these bad feelings out of his heart, slowly running your small hands over back, reassuring him he’s not alone, he has you and you’re here for him. Seeing him like this breaks your heart in a million pieces and you can’t barely control your own sobs when his legs lose their strength and his body weight supports itself on your small frame.

“Baby, let’s go to bed. You’re exhausted. Can you walk?”, you mumble onto his shaking shoulders, struggling to lead him to your bedroom.

You carefully put him sit on the mattress and help him to get off his clothes and wear his comfortable pajamas. Then, you gently lay him down and take your side beside him, pulling your big baby into your body. H/N rests his head in the space between your neck and chest, his warm tears soaking your flesh, while his arms loosely embrace you. 

“It’s okay, darling. You can cry as much as you need in my arms. I’m here with you”, you whisper softly, kissing his forehead as your hands caress his hair and back, squeezing him tight so he can feel all your warmth and love for him. 

“Doesn’t matter what happened, I know you did your best”, you hummed very close to his ear, lips ghosting over his skin just the way you know he loves to feel when he’s too stressed. “It’s okay, baby”. 

“No”, he weakly mumbles against your chest, breathing heavily. 

“Shh-shh… Talk when you calm down. Let it all get out of you”, you try to ease him, pulling him so close that now his body is on top of half of yours. “I love you so much, H/N”.

In response, H/N tigthens his grip around, snuggling closer into your neck as he takes deep breaths. As minutes pass by, his cries slow down and he’s calming ,finally able to speak some words. 

“Babe”, he quietly calls, and you lean back a little to look at his swollen face, wiping away some remaining tears of his cheeks. “What do you think of us? Are we strong enough? Are we worthy?”, his breath getting stuck on his throat. 

“Baby, of course you’re worthy. Why wouldn’t you be?”, you search for his eyes, but he’s avoiding your gaze, so you continue. “You’re the most talented ones for us and Fantasy will love you forever, don’t matter what”, you reassure him, softly caressing his head.

“We were last today, Y/N, and none of the other groups voted for us. And now I don’t know what to do”, he struggles to tell you as tears dare to come back in his eyes. 

Hearing these words breaks your heart even more and you lost your words for a brief moment, finally understanding why he’s like this now. You take a deep breath and hold his head with both hands to make him look at you. 

“H/N, I know it's been hard for you, for all of you. I know you’re giving all of you to show your best for everyone. I know how much you guys love each other and your fans and don’t want us to feel frustrated with you. But, baby, I also know how talented, hardworking and amazing artists you are. And I’m sure every Fantasy will never abandon you, even at the worst moments. Keep faith in yourselves, love. You’re our strength, let us be yours too, huh?”, you softly say, looking right into his eyes, feeling the weight on his shoulders slowly fading away. 

“I’m afraid”, he says under his breath, not avoiding your eyes anymore.

“Of what, baby? Who do I need to fight to protect my baby?”, you ask him seriously, but it makes him chuckle softly.

“We don’t want to disappoint you all. We just wanna make you proud of SF9”, he confesses, a small pout unconsciously forming on his lips.  

"And that's what you're doing. You never disappoint us, babe, and you won't disappoint us this time either. SF9 is our everything and we love you all anyways", you reassure him while giving him a small smile and he quickly nods, resting his forehead on yours. "Also, I'm sure your performance was amazing, so you don't have reasons to worry about it".

Your hands gently caress his cheeks, leaning closer to brush your lips on his, a soft touch that makes a warm wave of love and trust run through his body, this feeling that only you can give to him. H/N moves his hand up to the back of your neck and pulls you back for another kiss, a little more passionate this time but still calm.

"Thank you, Y/N! For always being by my side and for supporting us", his voice is just above a whisper, said like a secret that no one but you deserves to know.

"I love you so much, H/N. You can't even imagine", you breathe against his lips, eyes still closed, fingers running through his soft hair.

"I love you more than anything, baby. You're my world and my everything", he says back, pulling you even closer to his body, pecking your lips once more.

Neither of you dare to open your eyes or break the contact of your heads pressed together, so you stay quiet for a moment, just enjoying each other's presence, hearts beating at the same steady pace. Until a sudden thought pops into your mind and you call him back to earth.

"I made one of your favorite meals earlier. Wanna eat it?", you softly ask, but without moving a single muscle away from him.

H/N only shakes his head negatively.

"I can make you tea. It will help you to relax", you suggest, but his answer is still no.

"I just need you tonight. Please, let's just stay like this", he weakly mumbles and you realise he's almost falling asleep.

"It's okay, my baby. You can rest now. I'm right here with you", you place a soft kiss on his forehead, hearing a low hum from him as he quickly dozes off in your arms.