#he won’t admit he was in a tight spot but even though he was a deer you could tell his expression was like 😰

[saetoru]

underground fighter wriothesley who absolutely melts whenever you patch him up n place the softest kisses over his bruises n stuff :((

- 🦋 anon

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ WE, NOT I — WRIOTHESLEY.

contents. underground fighter! wriothesley, gn! reader (he gifts you flowers, perfume and a necklace though, so if that is fem! coded to you, there’s your warning), mentions of foster care and being orphaned (wriothesley), mentions of blood, bruises, and injuries (wriothesley), slight angst but overall fluff ending

money’s tight—has been for a while, actually. wriothesley doesn’t like to talk about it, doesn’t like to open up even though he knows you won’t think any less of him. but you notice the small things, always do.

it’s the way you buy groceries for two, the way he’s always over for dinner one way or another, the way he seems to spend more and more time at your place than his. money’s tight, even if he doesn’t like to admit it—and you could never force it out of him, but you think letting him stay with you while he can could help ease the burden of living even if a little.

he’s grateful—a little roundabout in the ways he shows it, but grateful all the same.

and then the presents start to come.

it’s small at first: those expensive macarons you like from that bakery, the bouquet of roses that couldn’t be cheap, a nice dinner he insists he can pay for every once in a while. and then it starts to get bigger: fancy tea from the side of town neither of you even think about shopping at, perfume from a brand you can’t even pronounce, a necklace that’s more than what you can afford yourself.

it starts out slow, and then all at once, wriothesley has what you imagine to be more money than he knows what to do with. because why else spoil you like this? why else blow money on things for you when he could be putting it towards himself?

not everyone gets to have a head start at life—wriothesley is proof of that. it’s hard, more than most people realize, to be orphaned so young and move through foster home after foster home. he’d gone to jail once too—he doesn’t talk about that either, and you never ask. it’s hard, more than anyone gives him credit for, to be knocked down by life so many times and make a living for yourself.

you can’t understand where the sudden change comes from, can’t pinpoint where along the line he started getting so comfortable. it’s not unwelcome, you would never want to watch him just barely scrap by, but it concerns you how he seems to have so much all at once.

and then you get your answer.

“what—what happened to you?” you ask in disbelief, eyeing the blood caked by his nose and around his knuckles. that’s the best of it, unfortunately—the gashes on his chest and the bruises somehow look even worse.

you’d consider him lucky that his ribs don’t seem cracked.

“just a fight,” he shrugs, not meeting your eyes. wriothesley is a lot of things: resourceful, conniving at times, and braver than most. good at lying is not one of them, however—at least not with you. “just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“where were you, then?” you challenge, staring at him hard enough that he doesn’t have to meet your eyes to shuffle uncomfortably in his spot. he doesn’t answer. you’re almost fed up. “wriothesley,” you say in a warning tone.

there’s a sense of finality he doesn’t like.

“what happened to wrio, sweetheart? you’re killin’ me here, i come home to you all bruised up and you’re here beating me down harder—”

“wriothesley, i’m worried about you,” you whisper tiredly. it’s defeated—it’s almost helpless. he frowns, finally looking up at you from his place between your legs as you sit on the bathroom counter.

“you don’t have to be,” he mumbles, “i can take care on my own. i always have.”

“there’s no being on your own when we’re together,” you shake your head. your hands fall to either side of your body, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “don’t you understand? neither of us is supposed to be on our own anymore—not when the other is here.”

“yeah,” he crosses his arms—you try to ignore the wince he lets out as he moves, “and now you’re not handling things on your own anymore. i’m carrying my weight. just need to fight a guy or two.”

“you’re carrying your weight by fighting?” you blink at the realization. he doesn’t look you in your eyes, keeping them trained on the floor again. “oh my god—is that what these are from? because….because you’re fighting some punks in the middle of the night? that’s illegal—and you could get in trouble again—”

he doesn’t seem to like being reminded of his past. that’s clear when he clicks his teeth and glares at you. “and what am i supposed to do, stay cooped up in your place and eat your food?” he asks bitterly, making your brows furrow.

“not necessarily, but you can—”

“what, so i just live paycheck to paycheck and shower at your place and sleep in your bed so my water and electricity bills aren’t too high for the month?”

“wrio—”

“i’m earning, aren’t i? what’s the big deal?”

“the big deal is this,” you wave your hand exasperatedly, tears welling up by the lash line of your eyes as you stare at his bruises with trembling lips, “look at you. it’s not worth it if you come back to me like this.”

“but i come back,” he mumbles, taking your hand—he kisses the knuckles, rubs a rough thumb over the smooth skin before laying your palm against his cheek and sighing. “i always come back.”

you love wriothesley—have since the day you met him, you think. he’s easy to fall for like that, to feel your stomach go in twists and knots every time he makes a sarcastic joke and throws you a charming smile. life has been tough on the man you love, unfairly so. it’s hit him harder and harder and pushed him back to his knees before he ever got a chance to fully stand up.

he’s hitting back, now. maybe in a more literal sense than you’d hoped, but….but maybe you can help him if you can’t change him. maybe you can keep the pieces together until the plaster holds and they’re not so fragile anymore.

“i don’t like seeing you hurt,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss the broken skin on his cheekbone, “you don’t have to do all this. we were doing okay before that.”

we. he shudders at that. it’s always we and never i—even when you did all the heavy lifting. even when he was barely getting by and you were giving more than you should’ve had to, more than he should’ve needed. it’s always we. never i.

you and him.

“i know,” he melts, humming as your fingers thread into his tousled hair, scratching his scalp as he buries his face into your neck, “just let me save a bit more. and then i’ll do something real with myself. i promise.”

you pull away after a bit, taking in every bruise and every cut, every dry patch of blood and swollen patch of skin. it’s shaky at first, your voice when you finally speak.

“‘s all bruised,” you say quietly, running a finger over the marks littering his chest. he’s painfully still—doesn’t move a muscle as you lean in slowly and press a kiss to the purplish stain on his skin, gently trailing them to the next one, and the next one, and the next one. “you don’t deserve all this.”

“yeah?” he chuckles—its breathy, a little strained. your arms loop around his waist and bring him closer, “what a sweet thing,” he coos, “nobody ever treats me so gentle.”

you frown at that. the world is not gentle with wriothesley—you’ll have to be extra gentle to make up for it.

“you’ll be safe? you’ll pull out when it’s too much, right? and you’ll come back? without being too hurt, right? wrio, you can’t—”

“yeah, yeah, i got it,” he huffs, pressing his forehead to yours, letting your hands cup his cheeks. he leans closer to your touch, shudders as you slowly trace his cheek with your thumb, “just wait at home all pretty for me, yeah? i’ll bring you back something nice.”

“bring me back yourself in once piece,” you huff.

“done,” he smiles, “i’m strong, if you haven’t noticed.”

“yeah? explain this,” you challenge, pressing down on a bruise and making him wince.

“you should see the other guy,” he whines, burying his face back into your neck. you roll your eyes, there’s a scoff in your throat but a smile on your lips.

wriothesley is safe—for now, that’s all you can ask for.

“i love you,” you mumble, “so much. no matter what, okay?”

“no need to get so emotional on me, baby,” he chuckles—and then there’s a tightening of strong arms around your body, a kiss pressed delicately to your neck before a soft, “but i love you too” is murmured into your skin.

“i hope you’re ready to clean those cuts. they’ll sting for sure,” you grumble as you pull away. he grins—handsome, charming, yours.

“will you kiss them better?” he bats his lashes, making you snort.

“no.”

i might make this a reoccurring drabble series too idk yet. anyway you know what else he can beat up ?? this pussy ;)

[lyfeward]

if Serault had been a DLC instead of a lil war table mission, the Inquisitor would’ve met Posy in the woods while he was in the form of a deer. more specifically, they would have found him with his antlers stuck in a tree trynna get them out.

[sinnersweets]

Cream Pie

DogDay x Reader (lemon)

Includes characters from my story so I recommend reading that first before reading this (pinned post)

Minors DNI!!

A/N: You asked for this

“Damian! Sarahs here!” “Coming!” I could hear Damian running around upstairs. Once a week Damian would stay over at Sarahs house and spend the night there, leaving me and DogDay to have some alone time. Though I will admit that every time he left my heart ached for him, he was my little kiddo. Damian came down the stairs with his backpack on and in his left arm was his plushie of his dad. “All ready kiddo?” “Yep!” I grabbed onto his hand and led him outside towards Sarahs car. Before he entered the car, I gave him a kiss on his forehead and hugged him. “You be good now.” “I will mom.” “I love you.” “I love you too mom and tell dad I love him also.” I let go of him and opened the door for him. “I will.” I waved goodbye as Sarah drove off.  

--------------- 

I was in the kitchen when I heard the front door open. “Angel! I’m home!” “I’m in the kitchen!” I could hear the front door close and soon heard DogDay come into the kitchen. “Where’s our little boy at?” “He already left for Sarahs.” I said while finishing up some dishes. “Aw, I was hoping I’d be here in time to see him off.” I could hear him put some bags onto the counter before he walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. 

“Angel~” I smiled and said, “Yes?” “It’s our time now.” He placed a kiss on top of my head while squeezing me. “I know. I’m almost done with these dishes and then-” I stopped talking as DogDay moved his hands down and started to unbutton my pants. My heart started racing. “Let’s play a game Angel. I’m going to touch you and you try to finish the dishes, okay?” DogDay then unzipped my pants and placed his hand outside of my underwear.  

My breathing got slightly heavier. “O-okay.” Already my voice was shaky. I knew there was no way I would be able to finish the dishes if he was going to touch me, but it sounded exciting. Once I started washing dishes again is when DogDay started to move his fingers in a circular motion down there. “Already wet are we~” DogDay then bent down and whispered, “Naughty Angel~” while nibbling on my ear. 

The way my body was feeling right now was indescribable. I bit down on my bottom lip and did my best to wash dishes. He stayed in the same spot for a few seconds before pulling on the side of my underwear and moving it out of his way. “Doing good Angel. But I promise you won’t be able to focus here in a few seconds~” As I now got a better feeling of him rubbing in between my folds I let out a soft moan. DogDay chuckled as he moved from my ear and onto my neck, kissing lightly and sucking on it.  

I was holding onto a wine cup and couldn’t continue rinsing it. Without a warning DogDay placed two fingers inside of me and started moving them in and out of me at a steady pace. My legs started shaking and I arched my back and placed my head on his chest. “Ah~” DogDay got rougher with my neck and started biting down a little hard, but not enough to hurt me.  

With one arm I wrapped it around his neck, digging my nails into his shoulder and with the other, clutching onto the cup. DogDay started moaning which only turned me on even more. As his movements got faster and faster, I started squeezing the cup in my hand a little too tight and next thing you know, I snapped it in half. 

Me and DogDay looked down at the sink and both sighed when we saw that I didn’t cut myself. “Haha, guess my Angel was enjoying herself.” He took his fingers out of me and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me up to our bedroom. “I hope you know Angel that once we reach our room my lips will be all over your body.” “Can’t wait~”  

Once we entered our room, he pushed me up against the wall and started kissing me passionately. I returned the kiss and moved my tongue against his lips asking for entry. Of course, he allowed my tongue inside his mouth and both our tongues became intertwined with one another. Both our breathing grew harder and so did the kiss. 

While still kissing each other he moved us onto the bed. Without looking I untied his sun pendant. DogDay placed it onto the nightstand and then started to raise my shirt up over my head. We broke away from the kiss, our saliva connected to each other's tongue. “You look absolutely sexy without a shirt on Angel. My god how I cannot get enough of your body.” “And you are just so fucking hot; with and without your pendant.”  

As DogDay looked down at me with my bra on he got this look in his eyes. “You know what Angel? I’ve suddenly become hungry.” That threw me off. “Oh? Um what did you want?” “You.” DogDay grabbed both of my wrists and moved them above my head. He reached over for his pendant and tied my wrists together with it. Oh fuck was this about to get intense. 

My chest moved up and down a little fast. I wasn’t expecting this at all! DogDay started kissing my neck and then slowly moved down my body. I couldn’t help but moan as his kisses felt so good on my body. Once DogDay kissed under my belly button he started moving my pants and underwear off of me.  

He tossed them onto the floor and licked his lips. “Ready Angel?” I nodded my head and closed my eyes, not knowing what to expect. He lowered his head in between my thighs and kissed the sides of them before moving into the center. There he kissed up and down my area before he started moving his tongue and eating me out. “Ah fuck~” I pulled on the restraints, needing to grab onto something.  

Within minutes my legs started shaking and I could feel a knot form in my stomach. “DogDay I’m-ah~” I couldn’t talk. He was eating me out good. So good in fact that he raised himself up, somehow getting deeper with the kiss. I draped my legs over his shoulders. This new angle was so good that I soon released and the knot in my stomach disappeared. “Holy fuck.” I was breathing hard. DogDay licked up what came out of me and gently lowered my body back onto the bed. “Delicious.” DogDay then lowered himself to my ear and said, “Now for my favorite part~” Ah yes ‘doggy style.’ I smiled and while still being restrained I managed to flip myself over. “Say goodbye to your legs Angel, because I’m going to pound into you so hard you’re going to need me to carry you everywhere after this~” 

--------------- 

“How was school today kiddo?” DogDay asked Damian as we all sat together for dinner. “It was really fun! It was field day and we got to play all these games, and then for lunch we had sandwiches, and they even gave us some cream pies to smash into the teacher's face. Most of them weren’t a fan of the taste.” “You know I had some cream pie the other day and it was delicious.” I covered my mouth so as not to spit out my drink. Damian looked at me with a confused look but then looked back to DogDay. “Really? When?” DogDay looked at me and smiled before saying, “When you went over to Sarahs house.” I could feel my face heat up. I know Damain has no clue what his dad really means but still! “Mom why didn’t you save me any? You know I love your pies.” “Yeah Angel.” DogDay laughed as he spoke. “Well, you see- um your dad was just very hungry that day and ate the whole thing, haha....” DogDay busted out laughing and Damian looked so confused. I looked over at DogDay and gave him a look that said, ‘I am going to kill you’ but he just stuck his tongue out at me. 

--------------- 

“Hello my beautiful Angel.” DogDay said as he came down the stairs. “Hello my love.” It was coming close to mine and DogDays anniversary, and I was going to get him back for the little stunt he pulled in front of Damian.  In my hand was a bag and I walked over to DogDay before he finished coming down the stairs. “When you go out today I need you to return this, it’s what I was going to wear for our anniversary.” DogDay took the bag from my hands and reached into the bag to see what it was. He pulled out the only item in the bag. “Nothing in here but lipstick.” I couldn’t help but grin as it took him a while to understand what I had meant. Once he realized his ears perked up and he looked at me with his jaw slightly open. I walked up a few steps to get eye level with him and said, “Suffer~” 

[charliemwrites]

This is for the two (!) anons that asked for Keeper!ghost and kept!reader’s first time.

You wait a day after he gets back from his last trip. You’ve… missed him? It’s weird to admit, even if just to yourself. You could justify that your body misses him but it’s a bit more than that…

Not to say your body didn’t miss him, though. It did. You practically climbed him when he came in the door, made him drop his bag just to support all your weight as you shoved his mask off and demanded to know if he’s injured. He’s not, but you still gave him a day to sleep off the mission.

And now it’s morning and you’re climbing into his bed naked, appreciating how the morning light highlights his stupidly handsome features. He was awake the minute you walked in the room but he lets you get all the way up before opening his eyes.

“Well.” He says and then stops because he’s too busy starin. You huff, wiggling up against him. He’s in just a pair of underwear and you rub your body all along his, luxuriating in scarred skin against yours.

“You’re being sweet this morning,” he notes.

You hum, nip lightly at his wrist when he threads his fingers in your hair.

“You were gone too long,” you say.

“Was only a month.”

“Too long.”

He chuckles as you climb onto him, kneading at his defined chest.

“You owe me.”

He arches his eyebrows, pets soothingly up your thighs and ribs, then down again. Over and over.

“What do you want, feral?”

“You.”

He rubs his thumb at your hip. “Yeah? You’ve got me here. All my attention, my love, my energy.”

You flush down your chest. “Yeah and I want it all fucking me.”

He blinks, just once.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” You hiss the ‘s’ sound, grinding on his lap. “So gimme.”

He chuckles, palms gently but firmly holding you still. “Alright, pretty, but I’ve gotta get you ready.”

“Nooooo.”

“It’s not a negotiation, little one. If you want my cock inside this gorgeous pussy, you have to cum twice on my fingers first. Not going to hurt you.”

And you bite him for that, but he’s not going to budge so you let him. It’s not like you’re going to complain about extra orgasms after all. He’s brilliant with his hands, petting and stroking at your soaked walls, stretching you so perfectly while toying with your clit.

You cum twice easily - almost reach a third before you whine and scratch at his biceps, little nails leaving livid marks behind.

“Want it, gimme, you promised, Si.” You chant. “Want it, it’s mine.”

“Yes it is,” he coos, sitting up so that you can hold onto his shoulders, brace yourself up on weak knees. “Easy now, don’t rush.”

He won’t let you rush, damn him. Settles you down inch by torturous inch, distracting you with licking kisses and teases at your swollen clit. You flutter around him, so wet that you’re dripping down his shaft, his balls, pooling on the blankets.

When he finally bottoms out, you instantly try to start moving, want to feel him ruining you. But he holds you down, squirming and whimpering, pressed tight against him.

“Not yet, you’ll hurt yourself,” he reminds.

He only shushes you when you protest that you don’t care. When he finally eases up, you push your weight forward, flattening him against the bed, hands braced on his broad chest. It changes the angle just so and makes you see STARS.

“I’ll do it,” you say, voice only shaking a little.

He murmurs encouragingly, palms light on your thighs as you start to rock. It feels so fucking GOOD.

“Like you were made just for me,” you babble, delirious.

He croons that of course he was, he’s here for you, to take care of you. Helps you find a good rhythm that has you grinding your clit against the downy blond hair above his cock. It’s a lot - too much really after already cumming twice - but you don’t stop even as tears slip down your cheeks, highlighted by the soft sunlight.

He feels so so good, fills you up so nicely. The head of his cock curves against your walls and rubs so perfectly against that spot inside you. You moan and gasp with it, nipping absently at his neck and collarbones.

Ride the edge for what feels like hours before you make a whiny, high pitched noise.

“What is it, pretty? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Simon asks, genuinely concerned.

“I can’t…” you huff, trying to improve the angle but no that’s worse. “I can’t…. Si, I wanna….”

He catches on, croons gently to keep you from tipping into genuine distress.

“Can I help?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration. And then he rolls his hips. A slow filthy grind that presses and rubs just right.

“Yes, that!! Again again, please,” you breathe.

You come apart barely thirty seconds later, jolting and shaking, collapse on his chest with a wet sob, back still arched to keep him inside. He strokes your spine through it, eases the aftershocks as you squeeze him so, so tightly.

“O-okay,” you murmur after a minute, sitting up a bit and looking utterly ruined.

“Done?” He asks, about to help you off.

The sound of you whacking him echoes through the bedroom. He stops, tilts his head at your glare.

“Finish,” you demand, clenching down and smirking when his eyes flutter. “C’mon, I want you to cum in me before breakfast.”

You stay on top, but three mind-shattering orgasms have basically turned you into a ragdoll. He easily drags you up and down his cock and you’re happy to laxly follow along and squeeze down every time he pulls out, milking him. You stare dreamily at his jumping muscles and make little noises at the oversensitivity, freely crying but clinging to him.

When he cums, you moan like you’ve finished again too, tilting your head back as he twitches and spills, overflowing onto his own thighs. You fall limp against him while he shudders through the last of it.

“That what you wanted?” He asks.

“Mhmm”

“Are you alright? Not sore?”

“Mhmm.”

“A bath while I make breakfast?”

You consider that offer, then shake your head and press your forehead to his chest. “Bath and then breakfast.”

He catches your meaning instantly. “Alright, little one. Let’s get cleaned up.”

[fishermanshook]

F!CK BOYS GONE SOFT

( mercenary , batter & prospector ) + gn!reader

# MINOR WRITING SMUT , #ihatewritingdialouge , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

It was a mutual agreement between the both of you that you were fucking for the pure reason of letting off steam after being stuck in this hell hole. 

No feelings were supposed to be caught. No hearts were meant to be thawed. And yet, they find themselves yearning for your touch long after your last session.

꒰wc꒱ 1.7k ( longest fic so far !! )

✦— THE MERCENARY

If being between your legs was where he wished to be, then who were you to deny him access to the most private part of your body? Where Naib works his magic and milks you of your essence while paying you back in waves of pleasure.

The Mercenary looks so lost in his work that you think he doesn’t notice the change in pitch. That you’ve adjusted your grip on his hair to a softer, gentler hold. Your moans are light, airy, and not at all the ones that left your throat hoarse and raspy the night before. No, that can’t be right. And it doesn’t take him long before he finds the spot that pushes you over. The spot that has your back arching off the mattress. The spot that has you screaming his name like it’s going out of style.

And god does pleasure look good on you, as Naib refuses to remove his eyes from you as he watches the aftermath of you coming undone in front of him. Such a passionate and intimate thing for his eyes and his eyes only as your essence coats his hands and tongue. To think he’d pull his head away after you came is just stupid. Have you not learned from previous sessions? You coming only gives him more reason to drop down there and give you more, but Naib holds himself back.

The next few moments are a blur as you try to calm down after your orgasm, but it seems Naib won’t let you. The sound of something being unzipped and his pants hitting the floor pulls you from your recovery. He’s prepped you enough, hasn’t he?

“It’ll hurt a little, but only for a second.” The Mercenary whispers in your ear as a warning to brace for what’s about to come. It makes him wonder, and only for a split second, if you ever realized how much he loves you. The amount of thought and care that goes into every move he makes towards you. Maybe you’re just dense, or maybe it’s not like that. He won’t know until he tells you. Or, until you tell him.

Your hands rush to clamp themselves over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans flooding from it. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this (and certainly not the last…), but it’s always a tight fit. A tight fit that neither of you can get enough of. Your hands don’t last though, as the Mercenary is quick to rip your hands away from your mouth. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You don’t need him to say anything else.

It’s not long before you feel the familiar warmth strengthen between your legs. By now, Naib’s memorized your every tell that you’re going to come. By the way your legs tighten around his waist and the way your hands reach to clasp his biceps to try and hold on. It’s the way you attempt to not pass out when you feel everything just snap.

“God, I love you so much,” Naib admits before even realizing what he just said. You’ve never seen the man freeze so fast, or go so red. Before his hands cover his mouth you pin his wrists down to the bed.

“Wait—! H-hold on,” you say, still recovering from your orgasm that happened just seconds ago. “What did you say?”

The Mercenary stares at you before opening his mouth to say: “I didn’t say anything.” He’s trying to play it with a convincing tone in his voice, but it’s hard to believe when he practically shouts it.

“No, Naib,” you huff out “Are you playing me?” You question. Your face molds into worry and concern. Instead, he avoids your gaze. There’s nothing else for him to do in this situation is there.

“Fine. If you won’t say it, then I will.” You state before grabbing Naibs face and pressing it into yours. The Mercenary tries (and he really does) to do anything but melt into your touch. In the end, it proves to be no use. Pulling away, you say: “Naib, there is no one else I love more than you.”

“Thanks for confirming what I already know, babe.”

✦— THE BATTER

Not every affair starts with a heated make-out session, but every heated make-out session ends with the two of you having sex. With your lips entwined as your fingers roam through his hair, the two of you make a mad dash to whoever’s room is closer as playful giggles slip out along the way.

It started as just another way to let yourself go and cut loose a little after another night of terror from Ganji. How could you not tell that the Batter saw you as more than just some fuck buddy? That his eyes weren’t only filled with lust, but love for you and you entirely?

Maybe this can be his way of showing you, whether you get it or not. Whether you understand the soft kisses he lays on your chest. Whether you understand the praises that fall from his lips. Whether you understand it's taken him too long to finally muster up the courage to confess to you.

You’ve stripped each other of your clothes leaving both of you bare naked. The only thing covering you are the multiple hickeys decorating your chest as well as between your legs. The pleasure overrides any pain felt from when he initially pushed his way inside of you. Before you know it, you're babbling all over his cock while he presses gentle kisses all over your face. You look so cute like this—all flushed out and pink.

Ganji's smart, but overlooks your cock drunkenness and traces his finger along your jaw and other places. Eventually, his finger meets your back and traces along your spine. His finger does weird swoops along your backside. It's all just a simple way of telling you 'I love you.' without having to utter a word.

Maybe it's the way you moan out his name as your hips move up and down on his cock. Or maybe it's the look in your eyes when he meets them. The Batter's not sure where the courage comes from, but all he knows is that he can't stand another moment of you not being his.

"[name] I- fuck, I love you." He barely manages to grunt out, snapping you from your thoughts to look at him with wide eyes.

"What-?"

It's then he thinks he fucked up. That he has demolished all of the hard work he put into this relationship. This is it. This is the end of your bond.

"No, shit I'm sorry just forget what I said," Ganji mutters out, immediately flipping you over so that your lying down on your back. "I'll make you come real hard if you just forget everything I just said, 'k?" Ganji says with caution in his voice. Maybe you're not the only one oblivious in this relationship of yours.

"Really? You love me?"

Ganji tears his eyes away from wherever he is looking at looks right at you. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If not for you I don't think I'd ever get the chance to say this," you chimed, pulling him in for a long and passionate kiss first. "Ganji, I love you more than the stars themselves."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR 

The bed will break long after the Prospector, Norton Campbell, has had his way with you. He won’t stop until his sheets are soaked in your combined essences until your scent has been embedded into his mattress, and until he can get the words out to tell you how he feels.

For too long has Norton been labeled as your “fuck buddy” and he wants out of it. Every round feels like another chance to prove he’s perfect for you. How many people know your favorite book? Your favorite place to relax? Your favorite position? The sensitive spots on your body? Who else knows exactly where to touch and what to say? All he needs you to answer is if you like him or not.

“Shit—always feel so good,” Norton manages to grunt out after thrusting into you. He knows he’s found your sweet spot (again…) when he pulls a loud moan from your sweet lips. So attentive to your wants and needs that he can’t help but hit the spot again and again, listening as your moans grow louder with each thrust.

The Prospector mutters something under your breath he thinks went by unnoticed. Pulling you from your aroused state to ask him what’s wrong. All he can do is sigh and shake his head as his arms wrap around you. A bit tighter than usual, but not uncomfortable.

“Norton—! What’s the matter?” You manage to huff out. It’s obvious something is plaguing his mind, but the Prospector is as stubborn as ever and refuses to tell you. “Fine then,” you tell him “I guess I just won’t let you come.”

Now that gets his attention, and he instantly slows his pace. You allow him to keep going, but only if he starts talking.

“I’m too scared to say it,” Norton states.

“Why?” You ask.

Norton looks down at where you're still connected. It’s only then you notice he’s stopped. “Because I don’t want it to ruin whatever we’ve got going on. I don’t want to lose everything.” He admits through gritted teeth.

“Do you think it’s that bad that you’d lose everything?” You ask, concern now seeping into your voice.

All he does is sigh before bringing his face closer to yours. “God, is it seriously not obvious enough? Shit, [name] I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I didn’t want to say anything in fear of ruining—“ he gestures using his hands to the both of you. “this. A-and I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me after this but you asked so—“

He doesn’t get to finish as you cover his lips with yours. “Silly prospector, I love you more than you could imagine.” You confess before feeling Norton melt into your kiss once more.

note: hiii fish nation…sorry about the random hiatus, it will probably happen again 😆😆😆. thank you all so much for 100+ followers! it means the absolute most to me knowing there are actually people who enjoy reading what I have to write. I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you for everything so far. 🩷🩷🩷. this is so ass oh my gosh

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness 3

Find the series masterlist

The aftermath of being attacked, and some familiar faces from a previous assignment. 

AKA I couldn’t resist sneaking a couple more people into this fic. :D 

Warnings: Swearing, mild possessive behavior, mention of bruises and head injury, more world building. 

Eventual John Price x f!reader

Word count: 2.8k

By the time Gaz knocked on your door, you were ready. Still sore as hell, but ready.

“Morning,” you murmured, picking up both bags.

“You alright?” Gaz looked you over quickly. “Didn’t see you at dinner.”

“I was nauseous,” you told him truthfully. “Didn’t want to risk it. I’m fine, sleep helped.” Sleep had also helped the bruises form, but. You weren’t going to tell him that. 

“Still.” His jaw clenched for a moment. “You’re a guest and you were injured.”

“Already told off your Alpha for this,” you huffed. “You are not to blame for this. I didn’t expect any violence, and things escalated quickly. It happens. Definitely not the worst I’ve been hurt on the job.”

The look Gaz shot you very clearly said that was not as reassuring as you hoped. But he nodded once, either accepting that or at least not fighting you on it, and walked you out to the air strip. There was a small military plane there waiting for the pack, and you stifled a sigh. Lovely. 

“Here, I’ll load these for you.” Gaz took your bags and whisked them away before you had a chance to protest. 

Leaving you standing off to the side watching the bustle, unsure what to do with yourself.

This time, Price approached you from the front, rather than sneaking up on you. You were grateful for that - you didn’t think your head would thank you for any jump-scares today. 

“Feelin’ alright?” he asked, doing the same visual sweep Gaz had. 

“Better,” you agreed with an easy smile. “I have to admit I’m not used to protocol with military transport, so you’ll have to tell me if there’s anywhere I shouldn’t sit.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Price said with a low, amused rumble. “Sit anywhere.” 

You nodded and hid a wince at the throb of pain that inspired. Right. No more moving your head today. The flight was definitely going to be super good for your head.

Not.

Somehow, it took no time to get everyone on board, and you picked a spot where you hoped you’d be out of the way. 

So of course Soap dropped down next to you with an easy grin, soothingly warm in the chilly interior of the plane. 

“Didja bring a book?” he asked, pulling his phone out. 

“Yup.” But you had no idea if you’d be able to focus on it, not with the way your head felt. 

“Good. Won’t be too long in the air, but long enough to get bored.” 

“Not everyone has the attention span of a pup,” Gaz called, teasing. 

“Oi! Rich comin’ from you.” 

Price sighed and looked up as if asking for patience, and you stifled laughter under your hand. “Soap, make sure she’s in tight.” 

“Rog.” Soap paused before he touched you though.

“You’re good,” you murmured, granting him a pleased smile. 

He returned the smile easily before he checked that you were securely in your seat and gave his Alpha a thumbs up. 

After that, it wasn’t long until the plane was in the air, and you leaned back, closing your eyes. Your head ached and you were still tired. 

“Alright there?” Soap leaned in close to ask you, his hand touching yours briefly.

“Head hurts,” you admitted, though you hated to do it. 

He hummed, and one gentle hand tipped your head forward carefully. “Got a bit of a goose egg there.”

“From yesterday,” you agreed, keeping your eyes closed. “I’m fine, it just hurts.”

“Be better to rest your head on me than on the plane,” he offered easily, already gently guiding your head down to his shoulder.

“You don’t mind?” you checked, not fighting him. You did shift in your seat to make it easier to lean on him, his warmth comforting. 

“Not a bit.” His hand left your skin slowly, as if making sure you weren’t going to move. You weren’t even tempted - his shoulder was definitely more comfortable than the plane, and you sighed slowly before relaxing fully. 

Gentle nudging was pulling you from the warm comfortable space you’d made for yourself, and you groaned your protest. “Few more minutes,” you mumbled, barely lucid. 

“We’re landing,” Soap said, humor clear in his voice. “Gotta get up now.”

You cracked open one eye and huffed, displeased. But you sat up carefully. Your head definitely hurt less now, which was good, and you felt less tired. You blinked a few times, carefully not looking at his packmates. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“You needed it.” His smile was easy and he patted your knee. “‘Sides, can’t get bored while you’re asleep. Figure you had the right idea there.”

You laughed quietly and stretched your shoulders. “You make a good pillow.”

Interestingly, that caused him to blush a little, cheeks going pink. Aw. That was adorable. 

You did wince when the plane set down, but quickly smoothed out your expression again. Soap hopped up and offered you a hand up, which you took. Gaz had already stolen one of your bags and you grabbed the other, which ended up being the blanket. Aka the lighter bag. 

You stepped out of the plane into sunshine and moved out of the way, looking around. This… looked familiar. Very familiar, actually.

“Oh.” You blinked as you turned towards the barracks, shading your eyes. If you were right… Yes, that window was the pack room, and the curtains twitched. You couldn’t hide your grin.

“Oh what?” Price asked, coming to a halt next to you. 

“I’ve been here before,” you said. “For this pack.”

The door to the barracks burst open and a giant stepped out. Easily inches taller even than Ghost, König was quite distinctive. 

And then he was barreling towards you.

Seeing the potential disaster before it happened, you jogged a half dozen steps forward so you wouldn’t be right next to the Alpha when König got to you.

And then you were swept up into a tight hug, literally lifted off your feet as König rumbled at you. 

“Hi, big guy,” you said, laughing a little, patting the top of his head over his hood. “Where’s your Alpha?”

“Waiting.” He squeezed you so carefully, always aware of his strength. “I could not wait.” 

“It’s good to see you too.” You stiffened at the low growl behind you. Oh shit. Right. The other pack. “Put me down, please.”

König frowned at you, you could tell, but he set you down. You patted his arm and then took a step back, holding up one hand to ask him to wait. 

“Alpha Price,” you said, turning to find the other three clustered behind their Alpha. Closing ranks. Well, this was off to a great start. “This is König, of the local pack. I worked here before, thus the enthusiastic greeting.” 

König grumbled behind you, a distinct noise demanding your attention. You flapped your hand at him. 

“Alpha Horangi will undoubtedly be here momentarily.” You finally spared a glance back at König, one eyebrow raised.

König very innocently pointed off to the side, and you sighed. 

“Horangi, please, for the love of me, don’t do this to me today.” 

“You are no fun.” Horangi slunk out of nowhere, mask and sunglasses in place. 

You sighed and looked up at the sky. You couldn’t murder Horangi, he’d murder you first. 

Horangi stopped a couple feet away from you, head tipped as he surveyed the other pack. For a long moment there was tense silence. 

Then Horangi stuck out one hand. “Be welcome on my territory,” he rumbled, the greeting traditional. 

Price took his hand, shaking firmly. “We appreciate the welcome.” 

“This way.” Horangi led the way to the barracks. König grumbled again and reached for you, and you swatted his hands. 

“No,” you said sternly. “My head hurts.” 

“You are injured?” Instantly you had a very concerned shifter leaning down over you, protective and worried.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, shooing him ahead of you. “I swear to you we will catch up later, but I have to help them first.” 

König narrowed his eyes a little, displeased, but nodded once. He looked behind you to the current pack with a soft rumble before he turned, jogging after Horangi to catch up with his Alpha. 

“There are days,” you said to no one in particular, “that I wonder about my sanity.”

“Aye, me too,” Soap agreed, fingers light on your elbow. “Head still bothering you?” 

“Some.” You grimaced. 

“I’ll check once we’re inside.” Price’s voice left no room for argument, and you were too tired anyway. 

“Sorry,” you murmured carefully. “I honestly did not expect König to react like that.” 

Price shook his head. “Not your fault,” he murmured back. He glanced back at you over his shoulder, a quick flash of teeth betraying his amusement. “Didn’t you just berate me about this?” 

You laughed, leaning a little into Soap. “More or less,” you agreed. The sunlight was quickly becoming too much, making you grateful when you stepped into the barracks. König had vanished, but Horangi had waited. 

He didn’t say a word, just silently turned down a corridor, going to the very end and pushing open a door. 

“This should be sufficient for your pack,” Horangi offered, stepping out of the way. But his gaze snagged on you, which you only knew because of the smirk you could hear in his voice. “Your room is still open from last time.” 

“Ah.” Well. That was… somewhat problematic. “I’ll–”

“She’ll stay with us.” Price stopped behind you - you could feel the warmth of him bleeding through your clothes, sending a shiver up your spine.

Horangi tensed, just a little, hands twitching at his sides. But he nodded, curt and silent, and strode away again. 

“I can handle him,” you said on a sigh, looking back at Price. 

Price just grunted, his hand gentle but firm around your elbow as he led you into the room.

Well. Suite of rooms, really. Clearly this was meant for either visitors or someone higher up, because the sitting room area was decent, with a kitchenette. Through an open doorway you could see a bathroom, and you guessed the other two were bedrooms. 

Price deposited you in a chair, and you eased back carefully. Your bruises were reasserting themselves now - just what you needed on top of your head aching. Big fingers tipped your head down, just a little too close to the bump, and you hissed. Price froze for a heartbeat before he continued, much more carefully. 

“Might have a concussion,” he murmured, hand sliding down to cup the nape of your neck, soothing you. 

“Only a mild one.” You closed your eyes with a little sigh. 

Price rumbled a displeased noise, but his hand didn’t move. “You didn’t mention the concussion yesterday.”

“I was keeping an eye on it,” you grumbled back. “I know what a bad concussion feels like.” 

He huffed, and a moment later his free hand was tugging up your sleeve to check your arm where Keyes had grabbed you. That had bruised, and you didn't need to see it again, so you just stayed put. 

"It's not bad," Gaz murmured, though he sounded upset. Probably still unhappy that you'd been hurt in the first place. 

"It's fine," you assured him with a sigh. "Just bruising, it'll heal." 

Price let your sleeve fall back into place, though he kept his other hand on the back of your neck. "You'll be able to rest while we're gone." 

"When do you have to go?" You leaned back a little into his hand. It was soothing, that was all. 

"Briefing in an hour, not sure when wheels up is." Price leaned closer to you, not quite looming or hovering but some other third thing. 

"Got it." You snorted softly. "Turns out you don't need me here anyway, this base is well trained." 

Price merely hummed. "You'll stay here while we're briefing, so I don't have to find you." 

"You could ask a question, you know," you grumbled, finally tipping your head back to glower at him. "I might even say yes." 

Price huffed while Soap and Gaz snickered quietly. "Please." It was flat, absolutely no question to it. 

"I'll think about it." You smirked.

Price shook his head, though he couldn't entirely hide his amusement. He released you, and you blinked at the flash of disappointment before forcing your gaze away. 

You stayed quiet while they did whatever they did to get ready, mostly quiet. 

But you were surprised when Soap and then Gaz grabbed you in one-armed hugs before they left. 

You weren't sure if those were meant as comfort, claiming, or both. Whatever the intention, they left you warm and skittish and a little anxious. 

It was your job to get personal. To understand their needs and anticipate them. With some packs it was simpler than others. 

And, sure, there had been some packs before where you maybe could have stayed, could have deepened the bonds and made it work… 

But that niggling anxiety wouldn't let you. Because they'd get tired of you eventually. 

People always did. 

Breathing a little unsteady, you shook yourself out. Clearly this mild concussion was just messing with you, and you just needed to walk it off. 

But you did leave a note for the pack telling them you'd gone on a walk, at least. 

The base was the same as the last time you'd seen it, still bustling with activity. But this time most of the soldiers already knew you, nodded to you in recognition. 

You weren’t entirely sure how long you'd been wandering when Horangi fell into step next to you, easy as anything. 

"So that's your new pack." 

"You say that like any of the packs I work with are mine and not just work." 

Horangi hummed quietly, keeping pace with you. "Not a great showing for them, bringing you here injured." 

"It's sometimes part of the job," you reminded him. "Not like I left here completely unscathed, either." 

Horangi shrugged. "König is happy to see you." 

You slanted a look at him, amused. "I'm happy to see him, too." That went for both of them, but you were used to Horangi hiding his own emotions behind the bigger man. 

"Should be three days or so," Horangi told you, and you blinked, caught off guard. "If all goes well." 

"When do things ever go well?" You asked, mostly habitually. 

His chuckle was low and rough, not unlike the chuffing of his other form. "Good question." 

You laughed quietly, shaking your head, but you did finally start to head back toward the barracks. "Leaving tonight or tomorrow?"

"Tonight. Timeline got pushed." Horangi shrugged. "You'll be on your own after dinner." 

Something, some soft part of you, ached at being left alone again. You hid it well - that little part of you had refused to die, but you refused to acknowledge it. "Got it." 

Horangi nudged you ahead, and when you blinked back at him, he merely motioned for you to keep going. You shrugged but kept walking, figuring he wanted some alone time or something. 

Then you spotted Price standing outside the barracks, arms crossed.

“I didn’t mean to be out for that long,” you said as you approached, eyeing him carefully.

Price shrugged once. “Wheels up after dinner,” he said, pulling open the door and waiting for you to enter. “You’ll sit and eat with us?” 

At least he managed to make it a question this time. “Sure,” you agreed after a moment of thought. Actually, food sounded good. 

Price nodded and opened the door to the suite again, ushering you in first. You side-eyed him, unsure where this was coming from, but you didn’t object. 

The rest of the pack was working quietly to get packed up, moving around each other easily. You stayed out of the way, jotting down things you could do over the next few days to keep yourself busy. 

Gaz nudged you when the others were done. “Ready to go eat?”

“Sure.” You tucked your phone away again, surprised when Gaz stuck next to you. The pack even sat you between them at dinner. Why, you couldn’t say for certain. It was mostly endearing. 

And you tried not to think too much of it when Gaz and Soap grabbed you for hugs again before they took off. Ghost nodded once to you, following the two sergeants, and Price paused in front of you. For a moment, you thought he’d say something, but he ended up just patting your shoulder and leaving. 

Leaving you confused and staring after them.

[starlitmark]

Summary: Trying something new with your boyfriend is always a thrill. Pairing: Mingi x fem!reader Tropes: established relationship Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language Smut Warnings: nipple play, bondage, protected sex, safeword discussion/check-ins Word Count: 1,012 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye February Filth Masterlist Before You Interact

Listen to ♡ Blow Your Mind by Monsta X

“You’re one hundred percent sure about this?” You ask again.

“I told you, sweetheart, I’m sure.” Mingi smiles sweetly at you, “I trust you, and we’re always safe when we try new things.”

You still feel a bit apprehensive about the entire situation. Yes, you and Mingi always experiment in the bedroom, but you’ve never ventured into physical restriction yet. Different kinks and games have always been fair game, and you’ve talked about them before. Physically stopping someone from moving feels like a different level to you. Mingi notices your still nervous state and pulls you against him. You easily sink against his body and the couch as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” He calls sweetly.

Looking up at him from your place, you see that same adoring look he always gives you. There’s not a single bit of worry or fear about the situation. It puts you a bit more at ease with everything. Still, Mingi can feel a bit of tension in your body and disposition.

“If you don’t want to, we won’t. Okay?”

You shake your head, “I want to. I think it could be really fun.”

“But?”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You admit.

Mingi pulls you tighter against him for a moment, “We always do our research to ensure we can be as safe as possible. We have a safe word for a reason, and if one of us needs it, we know what to do to help each other.” He reassures, “If you’re still really uncomfortable with it, we won’t do it. Consent is the most important thing.”

You nod and think momentarily, “We’ll research what we need to do to be safe and make a plan.”

“As we always do.” He smiles.

~~~~

“Is it too tight?” You ask, still fixated on the red ropes wrapped around Mingi’s wrists. 

He’s tethered to the bed frame, almost entirely naked except for his boxers. The pretty, shiny balls of his nipple bars glint in the light of the room. He’s already painfully hard in his boxers but insists that it would be part of the fun to be at your will, even to expose his cock to the cool air around you.

“No, it’s not too tight.” He confirms.

“And you don’t feel like you can just slip out either?”

“Nope!”

You hum, sitting back a bit to admire your work. Absent-mindedly, you run a hand over his torso, paying extra attention to his nipples. A slight whine escapes his lips when you pinch one of the perky brown buds. Your eyes snap down to his eyes and see that they’re blown wide with need. 

“Color?” “Green,” He smiles lazily, “I need you to ride me so badly, please?”

You smirk, playing with his prettily decorated nipples more. “Is that what you need, Mingi?”

He nods and tries to pull his hands forward. His body immediately jerked back to where he was lying back after just a few inches of tugging forward. A small chuckle escapes your lips at the action. Mingi, on the other hand, pouts slightly with the remembrance that he is stuck in his place.

Luckily for him, you’re already just as needy as he is. You let your hands drop to the waistband of his boxers and toy with the elastic for a few moments. His hips jerk up slightly as you brush over a rather sensitive spot. Tapping his hip, you silently ask him to lift up to remove the last bit of clothing. He doesn’t waste a moment lifting his hips, holding onto the headboard for leverage. His hard cock bounces forward against his lower stomach. A small bead of precum leaks onto the skin. Your mouth waters like a Pavlovian response to the sight of him. You don’t let it hold your attention for too long, though. You strip your little amount of clothing off your body and reach into the bedside table for a condom. 

Ripping the package open, you roll it down your boyfriend’s leaking member. He groans at the feeling of you finally touching him where he needs you most. You straddle his lap, rubbing your lower lips along the entire length of his cock. His eyes are fixated on where your pussy is grinding against him. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, trying to exercise that last bit of self-restraint that he has. His hands are balled into fists, unsure what to do with them restricted above his head.

You finally sink yourself onto him slowly until you’re fully seated on his cock. A low groan escapes his throat. His voice quickly switches into a broken gasp as you lean forward to pull one of his pierced nipples into your mouth. You ride him slowly as you lick and nip at the perky buds. One thing you learned about your boyfriend through these experiences is that he absolutely loves it when you lightly bite his pierced chest. 

“C-color?” Mingi questions.

“So fucking green. Yours?”

“Couldn’t be any greener. Fuck, baby, fuck–”

He trails off into a string of profanities as you start riding him faster, making Mingi try to tug at the restraints again. One of your hands travels up his body to lace your fingers with his. It’s a small gesture, but you think he may need that small bit of gratification. He starts to give weak thrusts up into you, trying to supplement his need further. A moan escapes your lips as you roll your tongue around the ball of the piercing.

“B-baby,” he groans, “I don’t think I’ll last like this. You look so fucking hot riding me like this. I can’t touch you, but maybe that makes it even better.”

You chuckle, your breath fanning over his spit-covered chest, “I like this.”

Mingi moans loudly when you bounce particularly hard on him, “God– fuck, I do too babe. Maybe next time, I should tie you up.”

“That’s for next time. Right now, let me make you fall apart under me.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight

[undercoverpena]

undercover peña

javier peña x f!reader

as promised, here's a snippet (50 or so lines) from this writer wip poll game and undercover peña won! so, here we have it. it currently doesn't have a working title, but the premise is:

Javier, who has left the bureau and is now back in Texas wants a simple life. But, when Steve offers him a job to go undercover with a fellow DEA agent, posing as a married couple to gather information on a potential new player, he finds it difficult to refuse.

warnings: none, except my unedited writing.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

Wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“Try not to fuck her, Jav.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—nor that he’s happy, content. A glow to his skin, he suspects, isn’t just from the sun, but knowing his wife is able to sleep and getting the chance to watch his daughter grow older.

Javier couldn’t relate—not that he’d admit that.

Picking up a ring, he rotates it between his thumb and finger as he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side makes him grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot. Because none look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Handed a file—everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javier knows better. Suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation.

Needing too.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, the tension had been too much. Already beginning to fray him at the edges, as sleep began to be a distant friend. That had just been following the initial phone call.

It hadn't mattered that he thought he'd be okay, his body said otherwise. Remembering—it all coming back to him. The aches, the knot in his stomach. Then there was the way a space had begun to be carved inside of him, a place where a piece of his soul he suspects is meant to be, but was long lost when hunting Escobar.

All of it was made worse by the worried look on his Pop’s face.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain. That this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few weeks, at most.

It didn’t shift the expression—didn’t stop the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness in the air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy home.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand—beginning to gesture, somewhat wildly—likely about to tell him he wasn’t sure.

Javier had been told (on numerous occasions) that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, red blouse and black tailored trousers clicking their heels towards him.

It wasn't anything cliché. Time doesn't stop—the room doesn't silence. But something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters.

Because usually, a woman's figure is what he will admire first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he meets first.

And fuck do they cut into him. Practically reach towards him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, ceasefire, a chance to strengthen his facade as you turn to greet Murphy. But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say commandingly. Body turning to him, hand sticking out towards him—adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air. “Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you.”

an: dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who is lovely and wonderful, and seemed as excited about this as me.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Thanksgiving | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.6k

Juraj spends his first ever thanksgiving with you and your family

To say you were nervous would be the understatement of the century. 

This is the first Thanksgiving you would be bringing someone with you and your family was really not known for being calm, cool and collected around new people. You hated to say you were embarrassed by your family but they truly did manage to take jokes a bit too far and make situations a bit awkward before you could get ahead of them. 

“Princezná,” Juraj’s voice snaps you from your thoughts and you look over to see the younger boy staring at you with eyes full of concern. 

“Don’t worry,” he reminds you, slipping his hand into yours and squeezing it causing the butterflies in your stomach to kick up more as his touch calms you. 

“M’not worried about you,” you reassure him and he tilts his head. “I’m worried about them and I’m worried you won’t like me or my family anymore after this.” 

Anyone who watched you and Juraj for more than 5 seconds could tell he was your whole world and more. The guys used to joke that you followed each other around like a lost puppy so much they were dumbfounded when you two admitted that neither of you realized that you liked each other. It was so blatantly obvious they all thought the two of you were playing dumb. 

You looked at Juraj like he hung the stars and the moon. Juraj looked at you like he was finally seeing every color for the first time and because of it, he could finally see the true beauty in the world. He’d do anything for you, everyone knew it and he was the first to admit it. For you to even assume he would ever leave you sliced his heart clean in half at the idea. 

“Princezná I’m in your life for as long as you’ll have me,” he reassures you, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles and you smile despite your nerves. 

You finally get to your parents house and cars are already piled in the driveway and spilling out onto the curb. You park a bit away, careful so you don’t get blocked in and Juraj grabs the dessert you made before making his way over to you. He intertwines your fingers before letting you take the lead towards your house. 

The minute you knock on the front door it’s a whirlwind, your mom comes flying out excitement etched all over her features with a hint of chaos in her eyes over all the family excitement. You smile as she hugs you tight before turning to Juraj. 

“Cupcake is this him?” your mom asks, employing a childhood nickname that makes you blush. 

“Momma this is Juraj,” you say, gesturing towards your boyfriend. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you!” your mom exclaims, pulling Juraj into a hug and beaming at the taller boy. “You are just as handsome as can be!” 

Your momma’s southern accent drips like honey over her words and Juraj takes a second to process what was said before flushing a deep red and thanking her. She ushers the two of you in and the whirlwind of family continues. 

At a glance, you instantly spot your dad, four of your uncles, four of your aunts, your older brother, all of your older cousins, your two youngest cousins, and several other spouses and children of your cousins that you couldn’t quite keep up with in such a big family. Juraj looks overwhelmed as your family spots him and the whole room erupts. 

“(y/n)!” your older brother yells, jumping up from his seat and making his way over. He pulls you in for a tight hug and you reciprocate before he backs off and turns to Juraj. 

“What’s up man?” your brother says, pulling him in for a bro hug before stepping back and grinning at the two of you. 

“Y’all are cute. Don’t fucking hurt her though,” your brother threatens and you feel the heat of embarrassment rush through you. 

“Okay come on,” you say, ushering Juraj further into the house as your brother laughs at your reaction. 

The two of you make your way around the room, introducing him to aunts, uncles, cousins, anyone that wants a peek at your new boyfriend. You tried to keep the conversations short, nervous that someone would tell a horribly embarrassing story that would ruin it all for you and Juraj’s relationship. 

“Dinner time!” Your mom yells out and everyone gets settled around the big dinner table. Your dad ends up saying grace before everyone digs in and the conversations start up again. 

“(y/n) you remember when we used to take crawfish from the lake?” your brother questions and immediately your cousin Alex joins in. 

“Holy shit! Didn’t we play that terrible circle of death game?” 

“What’s a circle of death?” Juraj asks innocently and the boys gasp while you let out a small laugh. 

“Well (y/n) came up with it,” your brother chimes in. 

“Did not! Dad taught us,” you respond but your brother shakes his head. 

“Basically, you get a crawfish, draw a circle in the sand, and give the crawfish four options,” your cousin explains and Juraj nods along as he talks. 

“If it goes towards the road, you let it get run over by a car. If it goes towards the rock you kill it with the rock, same if it goes towards a stick. But, if it goes towards the water it gets to live.” 

“But (y/n) never let them live,” your brother chimes in and your mouth drops open. 

“Okay now you’re making stuff up!” you exclaim and Juraj lets out a loud laugh at the three of you as you continue to bicker and joke with each other. 

“Juraj?” your youngest cousin calls timidly. 

“Yes?” 

“How many languages do you speak?” 

Emmy was the youngest and smartest out of all of your cousins. She wanted to be an astronaut since she was a kid and had even made it into a prestigious NASA summer program this past year. She now seemed to be dipping her toes into literature and all things language. She was already fluent in English and Chinese. 

“Three, almost four.” 

“Can you say something?” 

By now the entire family has gone quiet waiting to hear what Juraj will say and what language it’ll be in. Juraj smiles shyly, looking directly at you before speaking in his native language. 

“Ona je svetlom môjho života. Dôvod môjho dýchania a som taký šťastný, že ju mám.” 

You recognize the language as Slovak, Juraj occasionally speaks the language around you but especially when talking to his family from home. Your head tilts having no idea what he said but feeling like it was about you regardless. 

“What does that mean?” Emmy asks curiously and Juraj breaks eye contact with you to look at her. 

“It’s a secret,” he tells her with a wink. 

The rest of dinner goes the same way and you find yourself smiling so much your face begins to hurt. Your whole family has noticed, Juraj constantly staring at you with soft heart eyes whenever you speak. It made them happy to see you so incredibly happy. 

“I think it’s time for a game,” your younger cousin Olivia states and the whole family looks at her. 

“Oh heck!” she exclaims and everyone cheers. 

“Oh what?” Juraj whispers to you and you laugh lightly at his confused expression. 

“A card game we learned as kids,” you explain. 

To be honest, you still didn’t totally master Oh Heck even after all these years. It was confusing, fast paced, and utterly a mess every time the lot of you played. Your cousin deals the cards and you decide to “team up” with Juraj so he can try and catch on. It doesn’t take him long though, and it seems like he’s ready to go by the second round. 

“Wait what?!” your younger cousins exclaim when Juraj has made it to the end of the game and has been crowned the official winner. 

“You’re invited to every family function from here on out,” your uncle says, clapping Juraj on the shoulder and smiling proudly almost like a father would. 

After helping clean up, bidding goodbye to aunts and uncles, promising to text cousins and one last tight hug from your parents, you and Juraj are out the door with leftovers in hand. As you walk to your car, you notice the wide smile still on Juraj’s lips and you tilt your head at him. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“How much I like your family. How much I love you,” he murmurs and your smile is blown wide. 

“I love you too,” you say, finally reaching your car. 

Juraj moves all of the leftovers into the backseat before walking over to your side of the car. You think he’s going to open the door but instead he steps forward until your back is against the door and one hand comes up to rest on the door frame while the other rests lightly on your waist. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” he says and you flush under his intense gaze. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” you respond. 

Juraj leans down and presses his lips to yours, warming your figure from head to toe and you sling your arms around his neck reveling in the feeling of his hands on you and the smell of his cologne so close and so comforting. 

“Let’s go home,” he says when the two of you break apart. He opens the door for you and helps you in before making his way over to his side. 

The minute he gets in the car his hand is intertwined with yours and he squeezes tightly a quiet “i love you” in his touch and together you head home.

[hyunsvngs]

I saw you mention church boy Jisung and it made me think about an ask I sent RJ aaages ago! It was about young priest Hyunjin tho. I hope you don’t mind it but I had kept it in my notes and I thought I’d share since it’s this week’s mood 👀

Priest in training Hyunjin who can’t help but stare at you during mass bc the rays of sun coming through the stained glass hit you just right as if you were a revelation.

Priest in training Hyunjin who blushes everytime you come get your host and when he softly draws a cross on your forehead with his thumb as you look up at him.

Priest in training Hyunjin who prays for you every night to keep you protected.

Priest in training Hyunjin who also prays every night for clarity bc he’s never felt this way. Who recites three extra Hail Marys bc he feels guilty about how many times he thought about how warm your skin would be during the day.

Priest in training Hyunjin who feels himself get hard and his heart tighten when he practices giving confessionals and you tell him "brother Hyunjin I’ve been having impure thoughts about a boy I like" "Oh?"

Priest in training Hyunjin who feels elated when you volunteer at the presbytery and gets to spend more time with you.

Priest in training Hyunjin who gives you his favorite rosary for you to keep (and remember him by, even though he won’t admit it bc it’s a selfish thought).

Priest in training Hyunjin who starts to think that there’s no way loving and coming to the thought of someone as angelic and kind as you could be a sin.

Priest in training Hyunjin who starts to think that if God made us all in His image, why can’t he worship you? Tenderly kiss the sole of your feet? Kneel before you?

Priest in training Hyunjin who feels like he could die on the spot when you tell him how pretty he is. Even worse the one time you asked him if he were an actual angel.

Priest in training Hyunjin who doesn’t move an inch when you bravely decide to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. Who turns into a literal statue when you start tracing his features with your fingertips ; his brows, the bridge of his nose, his cupid’s bow, his plump lips…

Priest in training Hyunjin whose brain turns into mush and instinctively closes his eyes and takes your finger in his mouth and sucks on it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Whose heart grows three sizes when you softly kisses his eyelids.

Priest in training Hyunjin who can feel his heart breaking when you come to him one day crying, apologizing for being such a temptation to him. The more he is with you, the more he realizes that God did give him clarity after all those prayers. You’re not temptation, you’re a gift.

Priest in training Hyunjin who keeps in a picture of you in his locket. His crucifix above his robe, and the most prized piece of jewelry beneath his undershirt, for no one to see.

Priest in training Hyunjin who comes in his boxers along with you when you end up dry humping passionately in his room. If you’re both fully clothed, it doesn’t count, right?

Priest in training Hyunjin who finally sees the light when he gets to be inside you for the first time. Whispering and breathing his thank yous in latin in your open, panting mouth. In your pretty, tight, warm, sopping wet core. You are not sinners, this is love in its purest form.

THIS IS FUCKING WOOPOOOOOOAOAHHHHH WHISPEING HIS RHAKS IN LATIN?! SHUTUURORPTPFOGG THIS IS SO JOT

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟎 | 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 (part one & two.)

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Trembling tears, a fit of chill against the garden ground and a hold so tight on your prince’s arm you wouldn’t blame him for striking you. A golden hand keeps the cry quiet and the other presses gently into your cheek, tangled in loose hair, to try and soothe you, worried red eyes so like the Champion."

cw (I) another impressive attempt on your life and a haunted seaside garden. much blood, a dislocated joint, nasty (does not even being to describe it) dabi skin descriptors: melting ripping bleeding blehk, and one major burn wound. y/n reminds the group that murder is her job description but does also get her shit rocked. some long awaited tenderness and a loss of faith (II) bkg gets desperate. admit that you want to live, please. 5.3k

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

You suppose you should be used to this by now. When have you ever been allowed to live for yourself?

Bakugou charges as you do, as you drop your sword from him entirely and race together to the flame mage.

You grunt and land first in attack range. There aren't enough soldiers in this haunted castle for you to expect any backup to come towards the sound of a fight.

With a heft of your shoulder you swing your halberd from your back and across the man’s head, but he sidesteps faster than any fighter should be able and leaps over your prince’s back when he aims an explosion through the trellis. The sound of the blast could deafen alone but the frustrated cry that follows chills you. Bloodthirsty. Flower petals shower the battleground-garden and perfume mingles with gunsmoke.

It’s him. You knew he was here. The man wears the dark cloak you remember and everything about him that you hoped was a nightmare, scars and rotting flesh, shines outright under the moonlight. His hair glows, his smiling teeth glow, and he drops a blue flower from between his fingers. Bakugou catapults forward with his longsword as you’re thrown back with a kick and narrowly miss getting skewered on the garden gate.

“Thought I might find ya here Highness.”

The shock of his appearance from the shadows only dulls your reaction for a second because when you drop to the ground between the mage’s legs you know that he won’t be able to dodge both you and your prince. Your prince who is bracing his forearm with another range-demolishing blast.

Why is he here– how is he here? Why does he only dodge and flutter and grin? Where is the fire? He might really be a ghost.

“Show me those flames you blue bitch!”

“Don’t need fire to kill you, princeling.”

You see what’s going to happen before Bakugou does. From your spot poised on the ground you shoot up, halberd falling from your hands, and leap into the mage’s arms to contain the knife he pulls from a holster. It cuts you shallow down the arm like you knew it would and he grabs hold of you exactly like you feared. No matter how badly you want to be rid of him, no matter how deeply it pains you to keep him and tend him, your queen would never forgive you for Bakugou’s death.

The mage’s hand is calloused when it grasps the back of your neck and Bakugou’s warcry sounds off. It dies as a growl though, when an arm wraps around your throat. Keeping you tight in the crook of his elbow, the mage, so much taller, straightens up and lifts you to tippy toes and clawing hands as you try to keep the rotting arm from choking.

“Pause lovebirds,” he grins. He smolders. He lifts his hidden knife beside your head and twirls it delicately in the free air before leaning down to speak to you. “Are you the little monkey?” Bakugou vibrates where he’s forced to stand still just a few yards away when the mage presses both his temple and his knife to your cheek, “The little monkey from the forest?”

The ghost is too familiar when he touches you but you don’t seem to be the object of his entertainment. Why does he want your prince? His nonchalance burns you with rage hotter than any part of his body now that he doesn’t quite feel like using his flames. Where are they? You’re no bargaining piece, why does he bother toying with you? 

“Fight me, coward!”

“No can do.” A rough knuckle, purple with scars and stitches, tickles down your cheek to your lips, “I suspect this one doesn’t fight that fair.”

His arm tightens around your neck and it’s impossible not to gasp and try to raise your head higher. Every time you so much as struggle, Bakugou jerks toward your captor and freezes again like he’s playing a game of statues. This wasn’t supposed to be your evening. If your stupid fucking prince could focus in a fight you wouldn’t be wracking your brain for escape routes right now, and you certainly aren’t going to die before you find his bedchambers.

“Relax,” the ghost whispers to your prince with lips at the shell of your ear, “Killing her couldn’t start a food fight.” And then with every chilling stretch of his cheeks, he grins again, “You’re the only one that needs to die.”

One flick of the knife and two of the stupid blue ribbons that tie your tunic closed, fly away in pieces on the sea wind. Bakugou very nearly explodes. Boots literally sparking where he stands, the glass beneath him splinters. The arm against your throat pulls closer.

How dare they– two boys in a pissing contest. You can land ten heartstopping shots from the back of a saddleless horse. You can cut through a man’s neck with a chipped sword in one blow. Fires in a rainstorm, poison and perfect bullseyes, broken bones, blood in your eyes, only death will stop you.

“Just step off the balcony or something,” the flame mage sighs. He flourishes his little blade and hooks his rotting arm so tight against your jaw that the flesh brushes your lips. It’s getting too hard to breathe and the garden is locked in deadly stalemate. “I just need you dead, I don’t have to be the one to do it.”

Bakugou, who doesn’t dare press forward with the knife to your temple, seethes. Barely still and entirely vibrating, he can’t contain his explosive magic and the heat sparkles around his figure like vengeful fairies.

This ghost isn’t using magic for a reason. The blood in your prince’s eyes is too thick for him to see and the mage is too excited to torture him to register you as a threat. He’s smiling, “What happened to ‘you’re mine’ huh? You gonna–”

The next sound out of the mage’s mouth is a scream to shatter heaven.

Blood fills your mouth– behind your tongue and down your throat– past your lips and gushes hot down the front of your perfect white tunic. The flame mage tastes like ash and you’re biting him hard enough to break teeth. You’ll get him to use his flames. You won’t let go until you break clean through. You’ll eat him alive before he lays a finger on your jackass princeling.

The rotting flesh pulls apart at jagged seams in your teeth and you know you’ve caught live nerves from the way he rushes to drop you. Black scars pull away from red meat and steaming blood smears your face like a smile. War is where you flourish, war is where the world slows.

The ghost drops you as you free a chunk of flesh from his arm, spitting, grinning, and his knife takes aim for your back. Bakugou has hardly processed you enough to move. The only sign of life from your prince are his ember eyes and the pinpoints of light roaring to life behind them as he leans forward into a silent charge. You can only imagine the sight, his guard painted in blood and from the feel of it– smiling. Wildly, victoriously. Is that why his eyes are so wide?

You drop heavy onto your feet and breathe a great gasp of free air as you pivot to catch the mage’s knifehand, but what catches you is a sunstone. A hot iron, molten glass.

You were going to disarm him, twist between his too-long legs and bury his own blade in his throat, but you aren’t the only person war slowed the world for.

The ghost snatches your bicep before Bakugou can even take a full step and immediately his fingers burn through fabric. His hand is big enough to wrap around your arm entirely and two things happen at the same time. “You want flames?!” He gasps. He grasps you with his ironhot hand and instead of escaping him all you can do is scream as he brands you.

There are few things in the world you can compare to this pain. To the sear that consumes the entire left half of your body– the way your body panics and pours sweat from every pore at a loss for what to do. The only breathes you can gather are between screams, soundless some, and tearful gasps from your spot held against the ground.

“Y/n!” Bakugou is airborne now and your body scrambles to flee without your permission, but the ghost uses all that desperate momentum to pull up hard on your scorched arm, face pressed to the ground– back curling– running out of– crack– until your shoulder breaks from its socket.

Your prince explodes on impact.

What you wouldn’t give to be five years old again. In a golden field, getting checked by your mother for ticks. Eight, with the queen’s hands cupping your cheeks. Eleven, pitching your own tent beside your master’s on a camping trip and falling asleep to the patter of rain. Something soft like that. Sixteen, winning your first tournament with one wooden polearm and skipping out on your own victory feast for fear of crowds. Twenty-one, above the library, under the oak. Six years old in a velvet carriage with Bakugou’s hands in yours.

Smoke consumes the garden and moving is hardly an option.

A golden flash leaps and crackles between short bursts of blue shield and even with your ringing ears you know that Bakugou howls as he fights. He bursts through his own smoke clouds like rainbow fury when the mage cuts the air with a short burst of flame, and skids sparkling to a crouch beside you. He’s waiting for something. Veins popping, fists screaming, pressed brows like he could kill with a blink. He keeps your dazed body under his own like a prey animal when the mage emerges from the black plumes. Glowing from the inside, a searing skeletal blue.

“Kacchan back!”

An unseen force throttles the ground from behind you and black lighting is unleashed from the sky. Bakugou collects you in his arms. War slows time for him too.

As the mage charges forward your prince lifts you carefully into his hold, a hand so strong against your back and another wrapped behind your head. His bicep and a flat open palm cover both of your ears and you only realize what’s going to happen as you’re blasted into the air.

Like being carried to bed, flying feels like sleep in your prince’s arms. Your shoulder is numb and your eyes are heavy until the weight of landing rockets through your fragile body and again you’re screaming like a nightmare.

You and Bakugou crash through a trellis on the far side of the garden where smoke doesn’t conceal demons, but your prince can only do so much to keep your arm from moving in what you now realize was an emergency landing.

“Where’re my little monkeys?”

On your back behind blue flowers, it’s clear now– so much easier to see, and your adrenaline is finally lending a hand in survival– Deku and the mage across the garden. Fire licks the ghost’s white hair but doesn’t burst from his fingers. Is he hiding? Is he trying to conceal himself? He could have this whole castle in seashell ashes if he wanted to but obviously he needs something else.

“Fuck– Y/n awake, stay awake–”

Hands. Cool hands on your cheeks and chest, squeezing and pulling. Numbness doesn’t last long though when Bakugou rips your burnt sleeve from your body and as you shout again, agitated blue flames burst to life a few feet away. He squeezes his palm over your mouth and when fire ignites in the flowers above you, presses the weight of his body down onto you.

Chest to chest on the garden floor you say a silent prayer. A scream sheaths itself in your throat so that the fire without eyes cannot find you and when heat dies down, Bakugou is the first to move. Just a tilt of his neck down to look at you. His expression– what he must be looking at–

Your wide eyes, both cheeks painted with mageblood and tears rolling like waterwheels between the fingers he holds against your face.

Before the prince can pull himself away like he seems so desperate to do, you jerk your good arm across your body and press his hand harder against your mouth. Don’t move, you glare and begin to reach with your other.

There isn’t a moment that your arm feels free of the fire; if only dislocation severed nerves. Prince Bakugou hovers above you on his knees exactly where you keep him and for the first time it’s not a scowl that greets you but something so much more upsetting. Shock? Awe? You reach higher. His golden face and sooted tunic place him in a painting that his mother would wear. Higher. His touch doesn’t hurt, in this second only his hands are not a threat to you. You can’t reach any further.

The riotous ache against your collarbone crescendos when you seize your limp arm above your head and snatch it back into its socket, only then allowing a dreadful sound out of your chest. Trembling tears, a fit of chill against the garden ground and a hold so tight on your prince’s arm you wouldn’t blame him for striking you. Fire doesn’t find you. A golden hand keeps the cry quiet and the other presses gently into your cheek, tangled in loose hair, to try and soothe you, worried red eyes so like the Champion.

A fight is still happening off in the distance and every now and then ‘Alderan’ echoes through the scorched flowers. Deku’s black lighting crackles– if that’s even his magic– if the gods didn’t open up night skies to save you. His gentle voice bellows, calling for the castle guards as he fights.

When Bakugou finally pulls away, blood and saliva string between his fingers from your face and you’re heaving with the realization that you couldn’t breathe at all. It’s disgusting, your panting and bruised body. A royal guard still conscious should be ready to fight not kept hidden by her prince, held together by his strong hands like the strings on a child's toy. How long has the mage been hiding in Takoba? You should have known– you did know– and now you need to fix this.

“–told you so,” you rasp between gasps and the prince immediately covers your mouth again. An anxious red climbs the column of Bakugou’s throat to his ears.

The prince is thinking too hard. Darting eyes and unsteady fingers assessing you. Too much attention. He keeps you hidden exactly behind the thickest parts of the climbing flowers and the undulating furrow of his brows tells you he doesn’t plan on letting you up. Gods, again and again you wish you knew what that look meant and of all the times you’ve been too close today he picks right now to be noble. As the battle churns up storms behind you, as Deku tries to keep the mage from stealing your prince away.

“Keep that smart mouth shut and stay here,” he growls, finally collecting the words. The shocking sore of your shoulder weighs it like lead when you shoot up to grab him, but Bakugou pushes you down as he rises and steps back into the smoky garden exactly fast and far enough away that you can’t catch him when you reach with your good arm.

He’s in a hurry to get away from you and for the first time you cannot stop him.

You can only watch as your prince bolts across the destroyed garden, over dead flowers and smoldering soil, to leap above the mage’s blindspot. While sidestepping the crackling black whips that Deku slings from his hands, the flame mage can’t find your prince in time. He’s too busy rupturing blood from the wound on his arm and dripping steaming puddles across the clearing. Why doesn’t Bakugou question the lack of flames? You don’t dare scream out to him, and give away your prince’s position. Bakugou vaults over a gate and into the air, pointing his open palms directly down and loosing a terrible twinkling explosion over the mage’s head before launching to Deku’s side to charge another blast into the bellflower dust bowl. Your halberd catches blue light on the ground twenty meters away, dead between your hiding place and the fight.

At the same time as blue flickers in the settling dust storm, thunder begins to churn somewhere deep inside the castle. If you weren’t at the edge of the garden you might mistake it for the distant sound of ocean waves. But high tide is silent tonight. Clicking teeth and the scent of ignition, the rotten taste of the mage on your lips, and not a peep from the sea. What is coming to life inside the lifeless castle?

You prince does not notice the great bellied rumbling, does not strike again to ensure the mage is dead, Deku does not pull him from the battlefield– you have to get back out there. Your pride as a guard screams to you yes, but worse than that, so much worse than that, your prince and the little Champion can’t taste murder. They wait at the edge of the dustbowl safely for the mage to collapse or emerge like proper sparring soldiers. They don’t know how to kill. They need to strike, strike and strike, until their opponent is retching blood, but they are just a prince and a champion. Princes should be pretty and should not lose. Champions protect like shiny trophies– guards kill. You kill. Kirishima hardly fights outright for fear of breaking jaws and ribs, murder is your job. Shinsou and Uraraka’s job– where are they? Your prince can’t smell what you can and it is going to kill him.

Up, up fuck, get up. Adrenaline will keep you steady if you can just fucking stand. Your body does not fight you but it does not comply. It wont move the way you need it to, it won’t stop trembling from the touch of seabreeze on your raw and bleeding arm so you’ll have to beat it into shape. Two legs standing, a proper shape to save your prince. Something is heating up the air of the cursed blue garden. You bring a fist down on your thigh to feel life in your nerves, to remind your body it needs feeling– not to hoard it in your shoulder, not to hoard it in your burn. Bakugou and Deku, green golden shapes in the distance, prepare to attack as dust settles. You don’t have time. Another beating fist at your kneeside.

From the sound of it, a storm has come to life inside the castle. A squawk here or a series of thumps there, like an animal in a box. Is it backup? Soldiers? Something deep inside, louder than the mage’s laughter and your heartbeat and the stars of your prince’s magic, is fighting to escape.

As you drop your first foot flat to the ground, the rancid air from a sudden pillar of fire propels you to standing in its periphery. It’s almost soothing. It’s almost like letting your full weight into bedding until you open two eyes to half of the blue bellflower prison up, very much, in flames. The mage alone stands in its center and every meaty part of him radiates blue. The gums between his too-big smile glow. The castle groans ahead.

“Stay back!” Your prince barks somewhere in the new smoke before you can even worry about his being maimed or mauled or burned to a crisp. Curse it all, right? You won’t waste this momentum. The rock in your ribs shifts like a hiccup and for one second– relief, rage, grief – you know that your legs will carry you at least ten good paces as you tear forward in a sprint. Curse everything. Bursting bruised from the place your prince meant to hide you, you hope it all burns and that this wretched place falls into the sea. Even as you kick your halberd to life, toe of your boot kicking the polearm from the ground into your right hand, even as you cross the burning threshold of mage’s last attack into hell, even as Bakugou drops from the sky where Deku floated them both to avoid the fire– 

“Y/n don’t–!”

What pushed the mage to use his flames again? What is it that keeps your heart pumping? What was he holding back? Who do you live for? There’s no time. Your white-haired ghost takes one crackling step towards the castle and your prince, and heat swells thick around the garden while you flutter light footed, weapon raised, to strike him from behind. Bakugou’s hands come to you again even in a time like this because the flex of your fingers reminds you of the dance of his. Horrible creature. As time slows, it dawns on you that war might not be what does it.

Fire is upon you. Deku pushes forward as if he’s fireproof and your prince has both hands raised but not enough time to charge his magic. You can feel him looking at you. The mage has unhinged his jaw like a hunched and bleeding serpent to do the sun’s job and burn you all alive. Blue spills from him, in every direction it begins to flow and eat the pathetic flowers alive. It heats up iron flower beds and trellises, it warms your face at first and reminds the bubbling skin of your arm to sear. It all happens in the span of one foot lifting in your stride and the other landing in your charge and in the second you ready the halberd’s spear at your good shoulder,  the second the flames explode from the dead star in the center of the garden, the simple castle doors fly open.

The mage’s glowing smile drops. His flames blink out like birthday candles and the clearing is cold again.

Spidersilk and shoreline, and the lone flushed face of the Takoban Queen. She hovers panting in the doorway, arms still up from throwing open the doors and she is so hauntingly beautiful not even your prince knows what to do with his attention for a moment.

You remember though, you know what to do, for the first rule of hunting with your Master is mercy. Kill swiftly greedy human, be thankful. The second is ruthlessness. Fire dies around you so quickly you’re lightheaded when you leap with your last thundering step, no longer silent– when the mage remembers his Alderan plaything and spins much too-late to face you.

Doused of flames like a wet cat, he catches the shaft of your weapon before your good arm and sanguinary pierce his heart, but you don’t need the spear to land. The weight of your body forces it through his shoulder as you land and you only need the momentum, because when you release your polearm the rotting man cannot stop you from riding it like a zipline to his chest and plunging a dagger up to the hilt. Bones crack.

He wants a monkey? Fine.

Before he remembers fire you hoist your body onto the halberd shaft wedged tight through his collarbone and tip yourself over his shoulder onto his back while the wheeze of his collapsing lung plays you on.

It’s almost soft, the way you press your ear to his spine and listen to the heartbeat there while securing your legs around his hips. It’s too slow to even count as living, but then a glass slipper clicks once in the haunted garden and this rotting heart comes to life for a moment. The queen takes one wide-eyed step forward and you wrap your mangled arm around the ghost’s head, driving the dagger to his throat from behind. Light glows at the back of that long empty hallway behind her. Soldiers presumably, her guards. Just how fast was she running to create such a delay? You can’t even imagine her seafoam fragility sprinting through smooth stone halls, tripping, desperate– sweating, sick– and for what?

Ragged breath now, the flame mage wheezes back a step in his effort to keep your blade from making good on its threat and slitting his throat. Your body weight, halberd and grabbing murdering fingers pull on his eye sockets and jaw, driving him another step and another step backwards. He uses both hands to keep your good arm from killing him, but there are no hands left to pry you from his back or your weapon from his shoulder and suddenly there is no more garden to back through. It’s almost terrifying how suddenly you realize that your plan tonight is to die.

If your body wasn’t completely out of adrenaline and heartache, depleted and locked in place around a furnace like the shell of a dying beetle, you would be more upset about it. You would give more time to thoughts of Takoba and your Mitsuki. You would have eaten dinner. If you were still alive, would you have found Bakugou’s bedchambers? Sat with him there? Is he capable of conversation? Would you have found out?

The salty wind is at your back again and there is still enough life in you to buckle under the pain of your shoulder and to taste the cookies from Uraraka’s first aid kit. Guided by autumn air, over the mage’s pierced collar and your beautiful polearm and through his shaggy white hair, he drops one of his hands from you and reaches ahead for something at a great distance. What good is longing in death? Fool.

He’s not quite fighting anymore. He leans backwards away from your blade but knows that he cannot dislodge you. He does not use his flames. The mage reaches silently, your eyes following the line from his long beautiful fingers, to the seashell queen. He reaches out to her as Deku dives at a sprint and your prince propels himself through the air to reach you.

The white castle finally purges itself of thunder and the first of the Takoban guards catch up with their Queen as you and the flame mage tip backwards, exhausted, over the lip of the garden and into the sea.

Bakugou will never be free of you. Not when you dropped your dagger poised to kill and reached your bloody hand out for him, right alongside the mage grasping for the frozen queen. Your eyes, pleading for help, before slipping silently off the edge of the cliff. Did you even realize?

Takoban guards trip over themselves like children but when the rocket thrusters at his hands sputter out he knows that the Takoban master is among them. The queen is swarmed by a hundred soldiers and medics who pour out of the tiny little doors into a garden half of them didn’t know existed. At their generals’ orders, some stumble through the melted flower beds to secure their Alderan guest.

“Izuku!” Bakugou wails as his momentum dies halfway to the cliff. He tears forward without magic as Deku races ahead, gaining speed, and hurdles himself off the garden after you, hiding from Aizawa’s eyes. One black whip straight up into Bakugou’s awaiting arms and the other flashing through the air to reach you before high tide can.

The rotting man at your chest does not ignite or try to slow your shared fall. You don’t cry or flail and you hate to admit it’s because you’re losing the fight with your body to stay conscious. What they don’t tell you about falling to your death is that you cannot breathe in freefall, and that your stomach screams the whole way down, and that dying is not peaceful.

You are not awake to feel relief at the little Champion’s magic wrapping round your chest and hips and you don’t feel the pain in your arm when he whips you back into the air like the arc of a pendulum for his friend to catch. No one sees the mage hit the water.

Your prince screams with determination when the weight of the whip seems almost tight enough to snap the limbs he’s wrapped it around, and at their breaking point a lurch drops all the tension from his fingers and sends both you and the Champion soaring back up over the edge of the clearing and into the air. Deku can figure out his own landing because the prince is already peeling back and rioting through incoming guards, rushing forward to try and stay underneath you.

“Don’t you drop her!” He bellows. Not after he waxed so fucking poetic about his responsibilities and certainly not after you asked him, so quietly, to save you.

Your consciousness returns when you land squarely on a group of guards all throwing their bodies atop one another for cushion and any multitude of clashing armor and broken bones, grunts and screams, ringing out, your voice among them. When you’re falling to your death they don’t tell you that landing is your reward. That surviving is the real punishment.

To feel your brain hit the side of your skull and test the flexibility of longbones meant to walk, not crumble. Grit of dirt and ash grate your raw wounds terribly in the sea of armor and hands and you don’t think you’re the one screaming until a fit of cough seizes your lungs and for a moment you’re no longer able to.

“Y/n– Move– Y/n, look at me.”

Where you expect too-warm golden hands, Aizawa’s wild hair frames your rapidly deteriorating vision. He wades through the rubble to reach you and something pink like Uraraka hovers behind him. The queen is lost somewhere under a pile of desperate guards. Where is Bakugou?

“Your arm–”

“I’m okay!” You flinch when the old guard lowers himself to you.

“Your– Y/n listen–”

“I’m okay!”

For some reason you can’t think of anything else to say or bring yourself to picture the state of your body. Rare and genuine worry for your prince keeps your heart beating but you can’t quite remember how to make the sounds of his name to ask for him. The old guard doesn’t move in the chaos. Does he look broken from lack of sleep or because he’s looking at you?

“I’m okay,” you murmur again.

He watches for a moment with unsettlingly wide eyes, both hands flat on the ground, and then nods. “You’re okay.”

Another voice above asks, “Can you walk?”

“No,” you respond too truthfully and too quickly to filter your answer. Where is your prince? Bakugou– you need him. You need the relief of your hands over his beating heart. You crane from your spot in the dirt littered with groaning guards.

“Then sleep.”

‏‏‎ ‎

Shinsou carries you on his back through the disarray, back into the castle. You aren’t awake to witness the terrified air of Takoba or the group of soldiers tasked with restraining Bakugou against the ground while they wait for Aizawa to complete his questioning.

Caught and trapped, roaring under the weight of ten bodies, blond hair plastered across his forehead as his eyes bare bloody holes into Shinsou who carries you away past him without a glance. The prince screams for you and for treachery and still you don’t open your eyes for him.

As the young guard takes you through the little doors, he steps cautiously past the half and half Takoban prince laid out beautifully and peacefully unconscious among guards on the ground directly inside.

Shinsou breathes deep for the first time in an hour and slumps with relief as he walks through the once-empty hallway that is now filled, at every corner, with jagged towering ice.

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @jctaro @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @km7474 @arayoflia @annoyingleftpinky @noomaisdone @cr33pycrawler @iced-chai-tea-latte @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tragicallygray @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @kiwifuji @mmmaackerel @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @dududubebo @falling4fandoms @katanaski @babitchsuki @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @madmayo @bakugouswh0r3 @heart-of-haunt @zukowantshishonourback @420mitskilover @ultracrii @nochuonii @carrobrumbrum @bkgthinker @chandiewashere @sleezy-axeriix @screechingdreameater @mecuryxmoonstone @onlysarcasm @ilovemushroomss @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1

couldn't tag for some reason :,( pls check your security settings!

[tickly-giggles]

Okay, so can we have lee!Dabi, ler!Hawks with "th3 safeword is tickle." Cuz Hawks knows Dabi can't say it, and he wants a go at his bellybutton!

Anon, you read my mind. The second I made that one of the options, I thought of Dabi being forced to say it~

A/N: Istg, I always put way too much romance in these lol I'm such a hopeless romantic, please forgive me. Also, this doesn't connect to any storyline, this is just fluff <3

Warning: Tickle fic ahead! Also very light bondage

Prompt: "The safe word is 'tickle'."

Characters: Dabi, Hawks

Shipping: DabiHawks, they are together!

Lee: Dabi

Ler: Hawks

Word Count: 1,187

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alrighty, ya ready?”

Dabi groaned, face flushed as he experimentally tugged on his binds that held him spread eagle on the bed. He wasn’t tied down very tight, it was only his first time trying bondage, but being unable to protect himself made him far more nervous than he would like to admit. He tried to recall how he even got himself in this situation.

Ah, that’s right. Ever since he and Hawks started dating, he had become a lot more comfortable around him. That included attacking him with tickles at any chance he got. The feeling of superiority that washed over him whenever he tickled Hawks into submission was addictive. He knew he liked it, too, so it wasn’t that big a deal. However, one day, Hawks had expressed his desire to get revenge on his boyfriend. 

“I’m always on the receiving end,” he said,

“I just want a chance to get back at you.”

“Not gonna happen, Feathers,” Dabi chuckled.

Hawks smirked mischievously,

“How ‘bout this then? If you can go a full day without tickling me, I won’t get you back. But if you can’t,”

he took Dabi’s chin in his fingers and pulled him closer,

“Then I get to tie you up and get proper revenge.”

The hot head smirked, not wavering from Hawks’ touch,

“Fine. I’m gonna win, though~.”

He didn’t win. In fact, he lost quite spectacularly.

There were no rules set in place when they shook on the bet, and there was nothing saying Hawks couldn’t provoke his boyfriend. From being a little brat to straight up asking to be tickled, suffice to say Dabi did not last the whole day.

So now, here he was, tied down at his boyfriend’s mercy like promised. He watched Hawks, who had a stupid grin on his face. That same stupid grin that never failed to steal Dabi’s breath. 

He huffed and averted his gaze, tugging on his ropes one more time, before succumbing to his fate with a sigh,

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Hawks beamed and slowly began rolling up his boyfriend’s shirt. Dabi instinctively sucked in his belly, which made Hawks chuckle.

“I haven’t even started yet! You’re so cute~.”

“Shut up, feather brain,” Dabi hissed.

“Ahahalright, alright,” Hawks positioned his wiggling fingers over the villain’s belly,

“By the way, the safe word is ‘tickle’.”

“Wait wha- GAAHAHAHAHAHA!! WAHAHAHAHAIT, NONONO NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!”

Dabi shrieked and bucked as Hawks immediately went for his death spot. Was he trying to kill him? The bed bounced and shook with his incessant struggling. Hawks laughed, meticulously skittering his fingers along the outer rim of the villain’s belly button, sometimes dipping in to lightly scratch at the skin. What really made Dabi go crazy, however, was when Hawks positioned his fingers on the outer edges of his belly button and squeezed. There wasn’t a lot of healthy skin to work with on his torso but, luckily, he never seemed to get used to the sensations.

“Awww, lookit you! You’re such a ticklish wittle baby, aren’t you~?” Hawks teased, smirking when Dabi’s laughter went up an octave from hearing the T word.

“SHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP, BIHIHIHIRDIE!!”

Dabi growled through his laughter, frantically tugging on his binds,

“STOHOHOHOHOHOP, GOHOHO SOMEWHERE EHEHEHELSE!!”

“I’m not stopping until I hear the safe word. Which is ‘tickle’, did I mention that already? Tickle tickle tickle~!”

“GOHOHOHOD DAHAHAHAHAMMIT, SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!!” Dabi whined and stuck his face in his arm, desperately trying to hide his flushed cheeks and giant smile.

All he had on his mind was revenge. How dare Hawks make the safe word a word he couldn’t even say? He had no choice - if he wanted it to stop, he had to say it. He wasn’t necessarily flustered by it, it just wasn’t a word he felt comfortable saying. Whenever he would say it, it felt like acid on his tongue, and he would feel like he committed some kind of sin. When he heard it in the context of teasing, however, he was absolutely flustered by it. His face erupted in red, his laughter got louder and more hysterical, his squirming doubled in intensity. He couldn’t bear to hear the word while being tickled, let alone say it. He figured he was doomed to be tickle tortured like this forever at this rate.

Suddenly, there was a small reprieve, and Dabi gasped for air. He looked up at Hawks while catching his breath. The winged hero smiled down at him, shimmying down his boyfriend’s legs and repositioning himself a bit.

“You seem like you’re having fun~,” he grinned.

Dabi scoffed, 

“What gives you that idea?”

“Well,” Hawks ran his hands up Dabi’s torso, making him shiver at first, then he relaxed into his boyfriend’s warm touch,

“You haven’t bothered to say the safe word at all. And I’m tickling your worst spot. Are you actually enjoying being at my mercy while I tickle you to pieces~?”

The villain shivered, narrowing his eyes at the cocky bastard he called his partner,

“You know I can’t say it, that’s not fair.”

“And when, my dear Touya, have you ever played fair, hm~?”

Dabi swallowed at the mention of his real name. He huffed and averted his gaze once more, not dignifying Hawks with a response. Another moment of peace passed before there was a sudden intake of breath, and Dabi’s entire tummy erupted in ticklish vibrations.

“GAAAHAHAHAHAA, HAHAHAHAWKS!!” he arched his back, effectively pushing his belly deeper into the raspberries,

“CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OUT, YOU SOHOHOHON OF A BIHIHIHITCH!!”

“Wohohow, you’re weak to raspberries!” Hawks laughed, squeezing along Dabi’s sides,

“I wouldn’t have guessed~!”

He took another deep breath and blew an even bigger raspberry directly on his boyfriend’s belly button, causing him to throw his head back in shrieking hysteria.

“S-STAHAHAHAHAA! PLEHEHEHEHEHE HAHAHAHA!!”

Dabi couldn’t even form full words, he was in such ticklish agony. He thrashed and writhed helplessly, wanting nothing more than to turn these damn ropes to ash.

“You know how to stop this~,” Hawks purred, readying yet another raspberry.

It took about another ten minutes of tickle torture before Dabi could finally muster up the courage to say it. He couldn’t believe how the sensations never died down, he was always just as ticklish as when the sessions began. It was absolute agony, the way his nerves were shocked with such intensity every time Hawks so much as squeezed his tummy. There were days he wished he wasn’t so ticklish.

“OKAHAHAHAY! OKOKOK, T-TIHIHIHAHAHA!! TIHIHIHIHICKLE!! TICKLE TICKLE, I SAHAHAHAID IT, HAHAHAHAPPY?!”

And like that, it all stopped. Dabi coughed and groaned, letting his head fall against the soft pillow beneath him as he regained composure. He heard Hawks chuckle, and he watched him as he started untying the ropes.

“What’s… so funny?” he panted.

Hawks shot his boyfriend a genuine, beaming smile, and Dabi’s heart skipped a beat,

“Hearing your laugh is so therapeutic. I can’t get enough of it. You’re adorable, and I love seeing you smile.”

Dabi didn’t reply. He lay on the bed, patiently waiting for Hawks to finish untying him.

Maybe being this ticklish wasn’t so bad.

[toastandjamie]

It’s the daily Tuon and Mat thoughts.

So at the end of Memory of Light we’re hot with the reveal that Tuon’s pregnant. And I mean, she’s always been pretty clear that Mat’s main role as consort is to give her heirs. Okay so like- Mat and Tuon’s kids right, let’s put aside the channeling conundrum for a minute and actually talk about them as parents. Specifically how wildly different their upbringings were and how that affects their parenting styles. Imperial Seanchen and the Two Rivers have very different takes on family and parenthood. The two rivers is a small tight knit community, “it takes a village” type place, with close families and attentive parents meanwhile the Seanchen imperial family is incredibly isolated from eachother, with Tuon rarely ever seeing her mother and her and her siblings actively encouraged to compete against each other and eventually kill each other.

From his interactions with Olver we already have a rough idea about how Mat takes the responsibility of caring for a child. He’s very responsible about it, even if he’s a bad influence at times, he prioritizes Olver’s safety and education even while they’re on the road. A core trait for Mat is his soft spot for kids, he likes being around them and does seem to enjoy the act of parenting though he’s loathe to admit it. I think it’s safe to assume that as a father he’d make sure to be very present in his kids lives and encourage a proper familial bond between the siblings. He’d be attentive and a bit doting. Though his behavior will probably be seen as spoiling by the Seanchen rather than just the bare minimum. Mat is a Two Rivers boy at heart and I think he’d find it difficult to hand off parenting responsibilities to nursemaids and da’covale shadows, especially given the high percentage of assassination attempts made on the imperial family. It’ll end up being his fear and paranoia that causes him some issues as a parent because he’ll likely end up becoming over-protective, trying to compensate for the constant dangers his children face by being over-bearing and sheltering.

Tuon conversely grew up with the expectation of self preservation, you either learn to be self sufficient or you die. She’s a lot harder to pinpoint in how she’ll take to motherhood than Mat, just because she has very little experience with kids in general. It’s possible that she’d follow her mothers footsteps and try to remain distant from her children and promote competition but it’s also just as likely that Mat’s influence could convince her to have a more personal relationship with her children. Her biggest issue is that she’ll have a hard time emotionally connecting to her children, especially if she believes that they won’t make it to adulthood. She might also be more neglectful towards those of her children that she doesn’t claim as her heir, though I think Mat would likely grow a bit agitated if he believed Tuon was playing favorites. As I think he’d also be upset by Tuon not really participating in parenting their children in general.

[anlian-aishang]

Kinktober Day 11: Virgin!Levi + Fellatio

Tags: levi x reader, smut, oral sex (levi receiving), virgin!levi, gn!reader Word count: 1400

Levi had dreamt of this so many times - but it would be many more until he gained the confidence to tell you that. Your head between his legs, your mouth dwindling at his tip, eyelashes batted over your sultry yet innocent gaze: when it came to the filthiest acts, your intentions were pure. 

“Don’t worry,” I won’t bite, “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Though this was your first time together, you were confident in your ability to achieve that goal. Having imagined this for so long, having practiced in ways you were ashamed to admit, now that you had finally made your way to Levi Ackerman’s lap, you knew to make the most of the setting that countless others would kill for. 

Exhilarated exhales descended on his length as you awaited his consent, they were what enticed him to it. The sensation they spurred was addictive, a satisfying current on his skin. They communicated a shared sentiment: as Levi handed you his pleasure and as you took his body in your hands, you were just as nervous yet just as excited as he was. His arm staggered on his way to pet your head. Cupping you in his palm, he dared to pull you closer, wordlessly welcoming you to traverse that last distance. 

Your fingertips shook in their hold of his thighs, crescent divots pricked his skin in the places you pressed. Gradually, you traced your touch inward and inward, simultaneous on each side, aiming to offer predictability to an experience unpredictable for your virgin. As you crept inch by inch, you admired his precum spilled proportionately over. Glistening in his own arousal, and you hadn’t even gotten there yet. 

When you did, you made sure to move slowly, but even then - Levi’s heart rate accelerated quickly. Heels ground into the floor, legs shaking, you thought to grant him a break, but that was the last thing on his mind. Levi reached over your bare shoulders and anchored his nails to your nape. It would leave marks in the morning, but neither of you cared, grateful for them actually, as they roped you to what you both desired. Left hand pinned his hip in place as your right hand began to work him. He was still not used to another’s touch, but he clenched his teeth to subdue the evidence of that. Adorably obvious, though, was when you finally gave him your mouth. At the first swipe of your tongue, his jaw fell open, near shrieks escaping. Pressing your lips to his shaft drew harsh panting accented by mewls and whines. As you circled your lips around him, summoning even more shameful sounds, you could not help but snicker: Yeah, this is your first time.

Levi did not mind your smirk. In fact, it sparked a welcome sensation. You supposed that the most erotic contexts could be like the most platonic ones: all the mistakes you made, throughout tonight and your greater relationship, Levi had come to adore them. When you gagged on him, he relished the tightness of your throat. When you choked, he recognized your devotion and commitment: how intensely you would sacrifice oxygen for one more ounce of his pleasure. Taking breaks for air exposed him to the outside, reminders of how much better the inside of your mouth felt, helping him to enjoy it that much more. 

Between bobs, you winked one eye open and allowed yourself a selfish sight. The arc of his cock was steep, coated generously in your saliva. Veins of his V risen as blood rushed to the area of the hour. Along that journey, his nerves had summited mountains of abdominal muscles, their morning dew made in his sweat. Toes curled, chest heaving. Head thrown back, hands trembling. He was strung out from top to bottom, but in between, you noticed one area neglected. Below the base of his solidity was his most sensitive spot: a bundle of nerves you could knead in one hand. Knuckles dipped into the mattress, granting you the space to sneak your hand beneath and hold him.

Not only displaying his most vulnerable self, but letting you play with it - his head spun to understand how it brought him so much pleasure. Relinquishing control, for the man who so perpetually clung to it, somehow brought him more serotonin than ever. Ringing in his ears threatened to drown out the sounds of your love, along with all former doubts, Levi shook his head in an attempt to shoo it away. 

You mistook that motion: his strife to indulge more, you interpreted as a plea to halt. Instantly, you snapped your hand away from his middle. Immediately after, you popped him out of your mouth and apologized, panicked, “Sorry.” 

“N’No,” Levi stuttered. Briefly, he managed to see through his squint, just enough to find your hand and bring it back between his legs. “It’s just…” Levi grit his teeth in strain, “I haven’t…”

Done this before? You knew that already - all his firsts having been with you. 

His confession was different, though, and even more satiating. Levi whined, “Felt this good -” a deep sigh from his diaphragm, “- in a long time…”

Your eyes widened, shocked by the admission of his pleasure, nearly in disbelief that you had blissed him out to this end, but his body provided irrefutable proof. Calm was a typical look on Levi - a man difficult to shake, but this was the first time he had donned this level of serenity: eyes rolled back and fluttered shut, lips parted, shoulders loosened and untensed. In a world that he found so endlessly irritating, with you, in your mouth, all seemed to feel right. With his tip on your tongue, his salt on your tastebuds, even as his length threatened your airway, you agreed: this was your version of heaven on earth. By your mouth around his member, you were edging him towards his. 

Fingernails scraped your scalp in a crude massage. Not calm music, but swears and gasps its background noise. You felt him rise to the roof of your mouth, arousal overflowed and pooling. “Sh’Shit, (Y/N)...” Levi moaned. Toes pointed to the floor as he attempted to ground his speech, “You’re… You’re too good at this…”

Too good that he could not withstand it. Too good that he could not hold out any longer. You thought of those words differently: too good for the wrong reasons? You had not done this many times before, but of course your virgin would have found your oral remarkable. Mouth traded roles with your hand. Pumping him, you gazed up and smiled assuredly, “Just for you, Levi.”

“Fuck!” How that did it for him. Floodgates rose, hips thrust forward in preparation. As his first nerves began to pulse, his thoughts grew incoherent - his speech even more so, only one priority shining through:

“P’Please… your… your mouth…!”

You were a professional at reading his mind. It was what had brought you here. Even in the climax of it all, your literacy remained, understanding what he was so adorably trying to get out. Answering his plea, your smile deliberately morphed back to envelop his erection. Brows knit in determination, speed rapid with purpose. Base of your hand met the small of his back, forcing him to depths he was too compassionate to reach on his own. As his head slid down your throat, your tongue slid beneath his shaft. Bringing your head back and forth, you did the fucking for him. Lie back. Relax. Cum down my fucking throat.

“F-uck!! Oh, fuck!! (Y/N)!!” His screams and your sucking made a stark, audible imbalance to the night otherwise so sensual. With the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through his veins and the white-hot strands that warmed your insides, neither of you found fault in that symphony. His taste was too immaculate, his volume so enlightening, you swallowed everything but your swelling pride: he had been saving himself for you. Your thirst was so desperate, your body so eager, Levi groaned in fulfillment: you loved him - all of him. 

That love was left unspoken, yet wholly understood. Perhaps you two neat freaks had your own crass way - how you slowly licked and savored the messy drops off your lips, how he hoisted you atop his sweaty body and spoke against your sex, “Up for another first?”

Levi had dreamt of this so many times - but it would be many more until he gained the confidence to tell you that. Your head between his legs, your mouth dwindling at his tip, eyelashes batted over your sultry yet innocent gaze: when it came to the filthiest acts, your intentions were pure. 

“Don’t worry,” I won’t bite, “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Though this was your first time together, you were confident in your ability to achieve that goal. Having imagined this for so long, having practiced in ways you were ashamed to admit, now that you had finally made your way to Levi Ackerman’s lap, you knew to make the most of the setting that countless others would kill for. 

Exhilarated exhales descended on his length as you awaited his consent, they were what enticed him to it. The sensation they spurred was addictive, a satisfying current on his skin. They communicated a shared sentiment: as Levi handed you his pleasure and as you took his body in your hands, you were just as nervous yet just as excited as he was. His arm staggered on his way to pet your head. Cupping you in his palm, he dared to pull you closer, wordlessly welcoming you to traverse that last distance. 

Your fingertips shook in their hold of his thighs, crescent divots pricked his skin in the places you pressed. Gradually, you traced your touch inward and inward, simultaneous on each side, aiming to offer predictability to an experience unpredictable for your virgin. As you crept inch by inch, you admired his precum spilled proportionately over. Glistening in his own arousal, and you hadn’t even gotten there yet. 

When you did, you made sure to move slowly, but even then - Levi’s heart rate accelerated quickly. Heels ground into the floor, legs shaking, you thought to grant him a break, but that was the last thing on his mind. Levi reached over your bare shoulders and anchored his nails to your nape. It would leave marks in the morning, but neither of you cared, grateful for them actually, as they roped you to what you both desired. Left hand pinned his hip in place as your right hand began to work him. He was still not used to another’s touch, but he clenched his teeth to subdue the evidence of that. Adorably obvious, though, was when you finally gave him your mouth. At the first swipe of your tongue, his jaw fell open, near shrieks escaping. Pressing your lips to his shaft drew harsh panting accented by mewls and whines. As you circled your lips around him, summoning even more shameful sounds, you could not help but snicker: Yeah, this is your first time.

Levi did not mind your smirk. In fact, it sparked a welcome sensation. You supposed that the most erotic contexts could be like the most platonic ones: all the mistakes you made, throughout tonight and your greater relationship, Levi had come to adore them. When you gagged on him, he relished the tightness of your throat. When you choked, he recognized your devotion and commitment: how intensely you would sacrifice oxygen for one more ounce of his pleasure. Taking breaks for air exposed him to the outside, reminders of how much better the inside of your mouth felt, helping him to enjoy it that much more. 

Between bobs, you winked one eye open and allowed yourself a selfish sight. The arc of his cock was steep, coated generously in your saliva. Veins of his V risen as blood rushed to the area of the hour. Along that journey, his nerves had summited mountains of abdominal muscles, their morning dew made in his sweat. Toes curled, chest heaving. Head thrown back, hands trembling. He was strung out from top to bottom, but in between, you noticed one area neglected. Below the base of his solidity was his most sensitive spot: a bundle of nerves you could knead in one hand. Knuckles dipped into the mattress, granting you the space to sneak your hand beneath and hold him.

Not only displaying his most vulnerable self, but letting you play with it - his head spun to understand how it brought him so much pleasure. Relinquishing control, for the man who so perpetually clung to it, somehow brought him more serotonin than ever. Ringing in his ears threatened to drown out the sounds of your love, along with all former doubts, Levi shook his head in an attempt to shoo it away. 

You mistook that motion: his strife to indulge more, you interpreted as a plea to halt. Instantly, you snapped your hand away from his middle. Immediately after, you popped him out of your mouth and apologized, panicked, “Sorry.” 

“N’No,” Levi stuttered. Briefly, he managed to see through his squint, just enough to find your hand and bring it back between his legs. “It’s just…” Levi grit his teeth in strain, “I haven’t…”

Done this before? You knew that already - all his firsts having been with you. 

His confession was different, though, and even more satiating. Levi whined, “Felt this good -” a deep sigh from his diaphragm, “- in a long time…”

Your eyes widened, shocked by the admission of his pleasure, nearly in disbelief that you had blissed him out to this end, but his body provided irrefutable proof. Calm was a typical look on Levi - a man difficult to shake, but this was the first time he had donned this level of serenity: eyes rolled back and fluttered shut, lips parted, shoulders loosened and untensed. In a world that he found so endlessly irritating, with you, in your mouth, all seemed to feel right. With his tip on your tongue, his salt on your tastebuds, even as his length threatened your airway, you agreed: this was your version of heaven on earth. By your mouth around his member, you were edging him towards his. 

Fingernails scraped your scalp in a crude massage. Not calm music, but swears and gasps its background noise. You felt him rise to the roof of your mouth, arousal overflowed and pooling. “Sh’Shit, (Y/N)...” Levi moaned. Toes pointed to the ground as he attempted to ground his speech, “You’re… You’re too good at this…”

Too good that he could not withstand it. Too good that he could not hold out any longer. You thought of those words differently: too good for the wrong reasons? You had not done this many times before, but of course your virgin would have found your oral remarkable. Mouth traded roles with your hand. Pumping him, you gazed up and smiled assuredly, “Just for you, Levi.”

“Fuck!” How that did it for him. Floodgates rose, hips thrust forward in preparation. As his first nerves began to pulse, his thoughts grew incoherent - his speech even more so, only one priority shining through:

“P’Please… your… your mouth…!”

You were a professional at reading his mind. It was what had brought you here. Even in the climax of it all, your literacy remained, understanding what he was so adorably trying to get out. Answering his plea, your smile deliberately morphed back to envelop his erection. Brows knit in determination, speed rapid with purpose. Base of your hand met the small of his back, forcing him to depths he was too compassionate to reach on his own. As his head slid down your throat, your tongue slid beneath his shaft. Bringing your head back and forth, you did the fucking for him. Lie back. Relax. Cum down my fucking throat.

“F-uck!! Oh, fuck!! (Y/N)!!” His screams and your sucking made a stark, audible imbalance to the night otherwise so sensual. With the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through his veins and the white-hot strands that warmed your insides, neither of you found fault in that symphony. His taste was too immaculate, his volume so enlightening, you swallowed everything but your swelling pride: he had been saving himself for you. Your thirst was so desperate, your body so eager, Levi groaned in fulfillment: you loved him - all of him. 

That love was left unspoken, yet wholly understood. Perhaps you two neat freaks had your own crass way - how you slowly licked and savored the messy drops off your lips, how he hoisted you atop his sweaty body and spoke against your sex, “Up for another first?”

Kinktober Year 3 Masterlist

[levi-akerman248]

Honesty

Levi x male reader

I don’t even know what this is. Just a lot of smut I wrote. Got a tad rushed at the end cause it wrote it at like 2am and got tired after almost 4 hours of writing.

Enjoy tho 🤷‍♂️

“You missed a spot.”

(Y/n) let out a soft sigh and gave a light chuckle, “I’m aware Levi, I just needed more soap.”

As if to make his point clearer, (Y/n) reached behind Levi to grab the body wash sitting on the shelf behind him

They were currently taking a quick shower since (Y/n) had woken up feeling quite frisky.

Luckily, they woke up early and were able to have a quickie before having to attend the morning meeting set to start soon. As the Captain and Section Commander, they were expected to arrive on time.

Unfortunately, a slight set back is causing them to be a tad late.

“I swear to the walls, you are never cumming in me again.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle as his lover glared up at him, the tips of his ears slightly red.

“You always say that but we both know how much you love when I fill you up.”

(Y/n) was fully enjoying teasing Levi, how could he not when his little lover made it so easy. Though there was a small part of him that thought maybe Levi didn’t enjoy it after all.

“I most certainly do not. It feels uncomfortable and it’s a bitch to clean out. Why on earth would I enjoy it?”

‘Hmmm…’ (y/n) thought, ‘perhaps I misjudged his feelings. It has happened before.’

“…Ok then, I won’t do it anymore.”

Levi paused briefly while (Y/n) finished rinsing himself off and prepared to step out of the shower.

‘Surely he’s joking. The asshole has never not came inside me in the 4 years we’ve been together’

As (Y/n) left the bathroom to get dressed, Levi finished cleaning up and got out as well. Mentally deciding that (Y/n) was in fact not serious and the next time they had sex (y/n) would undoubtedly cum inside Levi as he always has.

Well, about two weeks later there they were. It was early in the morning, the sun had not yet risen, and the two lovers were tangled together in bed.

Levi was panting, his arms wrapped around (y/n) and his face buried in his neck as his lover pounded him ferociously

(Y/n) grunted and moaned as he slammed his cock over and over, driving it deeper into his lovers tight ass.

Levi was warm and tight around his cock, it was taking everything in (Y/n) not to cum right there but he was determined to make Levi cum first. As he always did, insisting on putting his lovers pleasure before his.

Levi was in heaven, as he always is when he’s connected so intimately with (y/n). With every thrust, he sees stars. (Y/n) was hitting the perfect spot head on with his cock, having memorized its location.

Levi’s eyes squeezed shut, his fingernails marking (Y/n)’s back as pleasure ricocheted through his groin. It wasn’t long before he finally came undone. His cock spasmed, cum smearing all over him and his lover. Waves of ecstasy washed through him as he slowly came down from his high

(Y/n) couldn’t help but smirk, he always gets a sense of pride knowing he’s the one who put Captain Levi of all people into a state of pure pleasure from his cock.

He began his pounding once again, having stopped briefly to enjoy the sight of Levi cumming. It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sporadic

An anxious feeling came through Levi, this was his favorite part. (Y/n) would soon fill him full. He could never admit it to himself, and especially not to (Y/n), but he absolutely loved the feeling of being filled to the brim with cum.

He doesn’t understand why but something about being cummed in gives him life. It sends him into what he can only describe as a mental orgasm. He not only desires it but craves it.

With a few more thrusts, (Y/n) felt the build up of his own orgasm. His balls clenched and his eyes rolled and just before he cums, he pulls out. He fists his cock quickly, cum shooting out and onto Levi’s stomach, Mixing with his own.

The second (y/n) pulled out Levi’s eyes, which were closed anxiously in waiting, shot open. He glanced down in disbelief as (Y/n) was coming down from his high.

Levi couldn’t process what was going on, he couldn’t believe what just happened. (Y/n) always came inside, always. Levi didn’t understand what was different this time, thinking at first he had done something to upset (y/n).

But then he remembered, his brain showing him the quick shower scene that told him (Y/n) was only doing what he said he would.

Levi didn’t like that one bit and (Y/n) could tell he was upset. He knew immediately why, as he was almost always excellent at reading Levi’s body language.

‘Oh, so he does like it.’

Deciding to test him, (Y/n) reached over and gently stroke Levi’s cheek, something he usually does after finishing inside him.

“What’s wrong my love? You seem upset.”

Levi debated telling (Y/n) the truth. That he was not only upset but down right pissed off and disappointed. But by doing that he’d have to admit he lied about hating being filled. He’d have to admit that he not only liked it, but desired it greatly.

And that was something his pride absolutely could NOT do.

So instead he decided to go along and pretend everything was fine, telling himself that there was no way (Y/n) could keep this up for long. He was bound to break and cum inside at some point.

…right?

It’s been another three weeks and here they were again. This time Levi had seduced (Y/n), an extremely rare occurrence on its own, while he was in his office shortly after breakfast.

Luckily, (Y/n) had already finished his paperwork and was about to leave for morning training when Levi came in and coerced him into a quickie. Now Levi lay bent over (Y/n)’s desk, hands gripping the edge as he had his ass pummeled.

He tried desperately to be quiet, as (Y/n) was being exceptionally aggressive this time. The back of Levi’s neck was gripped in a tight hold, the force of (Y/n) keeping him down and in place as (Y/n) took what was his.

(Y/n) had to admit, not being able to fill his lover full was upsetting him as well. He wanted nothing more than to spill his seed deep inside of Levi. To paint his walls with his cum and claim him in the most brute way.

But (Y/n) was also stubborn and determined to teach Levi a lesson. Levi needed to learn to trust (Y/n) and not be ashamed to admit what he enjoys. It low key upset (Y/n) that after 4 years of being together officially l, Levi still couldn’t be completely truthful with (Y/n).

The aggravation at Levi not trusting him, as well as the unfulfilled desire to finish inside his lover, lead (Y/n) to be slightly more aggressive than usual.

(Y/n) let out a stiff grunt with every violent thrust. Loving how Levi was now having to bite down on his hand to keep the noises at bay. (Y/n) couldn’t help but reach out and grab a fist full of Levi’s fine hair and pull him up against his chest.

Levi couldn’t help but let out an exceptionally loud whimper as his hand fell from his mouth to reach back and grab at the wrist of his lover. He could have easily removed it but he loved the sting, and he couldn’t help but enjoy being man handled.

(Y/n) let out a deep chuckle in between his grunts as he continued to pound into Levi. His other hand on Levi’s waist, keeping him still and stood against him.

Levi shivered and clenched his teeth, drool leaking from his chin as (Y/n) spoke sternly into his ear.

“You like that don’t you? You love when I pull your hair? When I take what’s mine? When I force you to lay there and take my cock like a good little cock slut huh?”

(Y/n)’s words made Levi’s cock drip with precum. He did. He loved being used as (Y/n)’s personal cock sleeve. To feel, in the moment, like nothing but a hole for his lover to fuck. It was like a form of praise to Levi. He loved to please (Y/n). It was his one main purpose. And he was doing a great job at fulfilling it.

(Y/n) was getting frustrated, he wanted Levi to admit to him all his desires. He wanted to hear Levi babble in ecstasy about how much he loved his cum. To hear him beg (Y/n) to claim him oh so roughly. To listen to Levi’s sweet sobs of pleasure as he was filled over and over to where (Y/n) cum was overflowing from every hole.

And he wanted it now.

Levi was surprised when (Y/n) suddenly pulled out of him. He was about to ask what was happening when he was abruptly forced to his knees.

(Y/n) sat down in his office chair above him, breathing a little heavy, as he gazed at Levi beneath him with a look in his eyes that Levi couldn’t pin point.

“(Y/n), what are you-“

“Shut up.”

Levi’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape. He was utterly confused but also aroused at (Y/n)’s dominant attitude.

(Y/n) stared at Levi, silently trying to figure out the quickest way for Levi to break.

“Put your hands behind your back and keep them there. If you move them even once I’ll tie them to your ankles.”

Levi’s heart was thrumming, not only from just having had a cock pounding in and out of his ass, but from the sheer tone (Y/n) was using. The one that screamed ‘Defy me. I fucking dare you.’

Good thing Levi was always great at following orders. He put his hands behind him, gripping them as comfortably at he can.

(Y/n) wanted to smirk and say ‘good boy’ but he had to keep up his pissed off look if this was to work.

So instead, he leaned over and reached out, grabbing Levi by his hair once again and bringing him inches from his face.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m getting a little tired of your pride being the reason you can’t be truthful with me. So until you can sit there and confidently tell me exactly what you want, you’re going to suck me off over and over and over again. Except you will not be swallowing a single fucking drop until you can get over the fucking false pretenses that admitting your desires to me is somehow demeaning. So if you want me to give you my cum, you’re going to have to beg me for it. Do you understand?”

Levi was frozen in shock, he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell (Y/n) how much he wanted his cum, he really did.

But, something was stopping him. A feeling in his gut that screamed at him not to. So he sat quiet, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve him losing his dignity.

But (Y/n) was not a patient man and quickly got to work of fulfilling his promise.

Using the grip he had on Levi’s head, he forced his cock into the warm, wet cavern of Levi’s mouth. (Y/n) through his head back and groaned as he forced Levi to bob up and down on his cock

Levi moaned around the cock in his mouth, his eyes already stinging and his cheeks stretching to accommodate (Y/n)’s size. His own cock dripping fluid onto the floor, saliva pooling around his lips, god he was such a cock slut. He wanted badly to reach out with his hands and fondle (Y/n)’s balls, knowing that it almost always brought him to an early end.

But he wasn’t allowed and Levi knew better than to test (Y/n) while he was like this. So he sat there, for the next two hours. Jaw gone slack, face a mess with dried spit, lips swollen, and body covered in (Y/n)’s cum.

It was times like this that Levi cursed (Y/n)’s stamina. The man could literally go all day and night and not be too tired for another round. Levi’s knees were sore, his hands had been tied back since Levi lost the strength to hold them back manually. And the new addition of a cock ring sat at the base of Levi’s cock. Keeping him from cumming.

After his ninth orgasm, (Y/n) pulled Levi off his cock, just like he had been doing after every orgasm, and checked to see if levi would finally admit to him.

“How about now? You ready to admit you want my cum?”

Levi swallowed, his throat was getting sore, and spoke with a coarse voice

“P-Please….”

(Y/n) gripped his chin gently and gazed into Levi’s watery eyes

“Please what?”

Levi licked his swollen lips, and went to speak

But his stomach knotted up once again. And all he could say was “Please….w-why do I hav-“

Before he could finished (Y/n) shoved his cock back into his mouth with an annoyed tch.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

(Y/n) furiously slammed his cock down Levi’s throat, more pissed off with every push.

“Why can’t you just say it? ‘Please (Y/n) fill me with your cum’ that’s all you have to say and I will gladly do so. I’ll fill your ass full of my seed and plug you up. You’ll go the rest of the day filled with my cum just like I know you want. I’ll pour it down your throat, fill your stomach nice and full of my milk. And I’ll do it every day if you so wish but no. You’d rather be here. Kneeling in a pool of my wasted cum.”

(Y/n) felt yet another orgasm reach him and pulled out. But decided not to cum this time. He was reaching his breaking point.

Levi caught his breath and whimpered when (Y/n) glared at him one final time. “Say it.”

Levi squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears rolling down the already carved paths down his cheeks. He begged that feeling to go away, he tried desperately to speak his desires to his love.

(Y/n) sighed, clearly this didn’t work. All it did was prove to him that Levi didn’t trust him. So he begrudgingly reached down and untied Levi’s hands and took of his cock ring.

Levi was confused at first but that was quickly replaced by panic when (Y/n) got up and walked to where his clothes were on the floor

Levi didn’t know what happened, but when he saw his lover start to walk away, the sinking feeling in his stomach, the one that forbid him from telling (Y/n) the truth, vanished. And in its place was the feeling of sheer panic. He didn’t want something as silly as this to ruin the best part of his life.

So he quickly stood, with great effort as his knees were fucking killing him and his legs tingly, and flung himself into (Y/n)’s arms. He kissed his lover hard, relieved when (Y/n) kissed him back with just as much passion

They pulled away and stared deep into each other’s gaze

“I want you (Y/n).”

Levi’s expression was that of what he always wore. Except (Y/n) could see the love and passion that shone through his grey eyes like stars shining through the clouds late at night.

“I want all of you. I want your love. I want your dumb ass remarks. I want your equally smart ass comments.”

(Y/n) chuckled and nuzzled his nose against Levi’s

“…..I want your laugh. I want your smile. I want the butterfly’s that stir in my stomach every time you touch or even look at me. I want everything that has to do with you.”

(Y/n) was holding back his tears as he felt the overwhelming love radiate from Levi.

“And I especially want your cum.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but bust out laughing, which only caused Levi to hide his face in (Y/n)’s shoulder

“Shut the fuck up, you’re the one who want me to say that.”

(Y/n)’s laugh went away slowly before he nuzzled his lovers cheek

“I know baby, it was just really cute.”

Levi huffed but before he could complain much more (Y/n) quickly moved them to their room.

“What in the actual shit are you doing!? We’re fucking naked you idiot, someone’s gonna see!”

(Y/n) chuckled and closed the door behind them quickly. Luckily it was lunch time and no one was in the halls.

“That was stupidly reckless asshole.”

Levi grumbled as he was laid on there bed, (Y/n) crawling above him and spreading his legs

“Sorry my love, but I didn’t wanna fuck you at my desk and risk slipping on the mess you left on the ground.”

Levi scoffed in disbelief, “I didn’t leave Jack shit on the ground, you’re the one who came like ten times and didn’t clean it”

(Y/n) shrugged before roughly entering Levi, affectively shutting the latter up. (Y/n) smirked and leaned down next to Levi’s ear

“Get ready cause you’re about to be bedridden for the next week.”

[bunnysbrainrot]

Hi! Could you do something with Crowley and a reader wearing a maid outfit, please? ♡

Absolutely!

————

Content: dom/sub dynamic, spanking, fingering, general S&M, praise kink

A/N: ‘Girl’ is used in this, I sincerely apologize if this isn’t preferred! I can make another version with others terms if needed.

(happy reading, my loves!)

————

“Don’t forget the windowsill,” Crowley said in a low voice. You slid the duster across the windowsill, collecting nonexistent matter from the wood. The King kept his space very tidy, meaning that your ‘cleaning’ was essentially useless in his room. Even still, he wanted to use this as a test of obedience for you. He had shared with you the other day that it would be a fulfilled fantasy to have you dressed up like this. You could admit that lately you’ve mouthed him off quite a bit. To be fair, you were testing him on how well he could handle your bratty behavior.

You finished your dusting, walking towards the door to place the duster in the caddy it was kept in. Crowley eyed you from the bed, eyes raking over your legs clad in fishnet tights, to your supple thighs shadowed by the ruffled bottom of your dress. The collar of your shirt crept high on your neck, urging you all the more to rip the damn thing off. The King’s eyes scoured your chest hungrily, before gazing at you fully, a hand sliding to his lap.

He patted his leg, his tone serious, but thick with lust.

“One more thing.”

Your short black heels clicked on the hardwood floor until you reached the side of the bed. Crowley looked at you expectantly, as if you should already know what he planned, though you hadn’t the slightest clue. You gave him a questioning look, tilting your head at him.

“You see,” he explained, “with the way you’ve been behaving lately, it would seem only fit to have a punishment. A lack of manners needs… rectification.”

Crowley’s expression shifted into utter seriousness. A coil tightened in your stomach as his gaze fell to your legs. Your thighs clenched together in hopes to add friction to the ache between them.

“Across my lap,” purred Crowley, inching a finger from your thigh and under the skirt of your dress, brushing toward your sex. You gasped at his touch, frozen with anticipation.

His hand stalled, “I hope I won’t have to repeat myself.”

At that, something inside of you shifted. Crowley sat up more fully, extending his legs to allow you to lay across them. You did so dutifully, keeping your hips on the King’s thighs. A broad hand began its journey from your calf to your upper thigh. Cold air struck your ass as Crowley flipped your dress onto the middle of your back.

“Now, you’re a smart girl,” whispered Crowley. “All you have to do is count.”

A tight sensation filled your stomach, knowing exactly what he was talking about. The King delivered a firm smack to your ass. You let out a yelp, catching your breath to remember his instructions.

“One.”

Without a word Crowley gave another smack, your skin stinging from the impact. This time your noises were less surprised, more lustful. The sensation flowed over you and sent a shock to your heat.

“Two.”

“Attagirl,” he cooed, bringing his hand down to your ass once more, the same spot becoming more tender with each hit. You muttered ‘three’ into the sheets. Though with this, the King wasn’t satisfied. He grazed a hand on your sensitive skin, patting softly.

“It doesn’t count if I can’t hear you, sweetness.”

Your breath was hot against the sheets, some drool had lazily fallen past your lips onto the bed. Mouth still agape in pleasure, you replied to Crowley.

“Three,” your tone was a bit too snarky for the King’s liking, earning you another firm smack.

“I’m giving you once chance to follow my orders,” he commanded.

As he expected, you didn’t quite listen. Shoving your face into the pillow, Crowley let out a low growl and lifted your ass higher, using a free hand to spread your legs apart. Just as he asked for tonight, you didn’t wear any undergarments, leaving your sensitive cunt exposed to him. The evidence of his teasing lay between your slick folds, practically begging for his entry. Crowley trailed a finger over your slit, coating his fingers in your juices. He hummed as he touched you before hooking two fingers in an opening in the fishnet. With a swift rip your new tights had acquired a gaping hole to expose your arousal to the King of Hell.

Crowley gripped your hips and pulled them higher, arching your back to raise your soaked pussy into the air. He repositioned to keep his hand trained above your sex, bringing a harsh smack to your clit. You cried out against bundled sheets, your sounds muffled into the bed.

“Oh, please don’t make such a fuss, darling. We both know the extent of your depravity. Don’t play coy and pretend you don’t like a little pain down here.”

Your back arched further, your body silently begging for his hands to roam your as further. Though he did oblige, Crowley had one more plan in mind.

“Since you can’t seem to follow simple instructions, I suppose I’ll have to resort to… other measures,” he said lowly. Crowley dipped a finger into your entrance, hooking downward to hit your g-spot with ease. The sensation had your walls tighten around him, drawing out a long groan from the King.

Your hips pushed back into his hand, eagerly grinding to gain more pressure on your sweet spot.

“You beg, or you get nothing,” Crowley growled. Your hips slowed, gently moving on him in a desperate plea. “My, insatiable as always. You make a perfect little whore.”

It seemed he knew exactly what made you tick. Crowley inserted another finger, stretching out your throbbing cunt. He refused to move any part of his body until you became as still as he was.

“Beg. Or, get nothing. Your choice.”

Stuffing down your pride you whimpered, “Please, sir.”

A beat passed before you corrected yourself.

“Please, may I have more, sir? Your… your fingers, I mean.” As a reply, Crowley’s fingers curled inside of you. The noises coming from you were music to the King’s ears. He dipped his head toward your rear, planting a kiss on the skin freshly exposed from the ripped tights.

His pace only quickened, pumping in and out of your pussy with a series of hits to your g-spot. The sounds became clearer to you both now - your high pitched cries in pleasure, the sloppy sounds of your cunt soaking Crowley’s fingers. A calloused palm struck against your clit with each movement, the combination of pleasure sending you to the edge of a climax.

The King slowed his movements to let your breath even out. You wriggled with the lack of touch, grinding hopelessly against his still fingers. Crowley began to resume at an excruciatingly slow pace, bringing a cry from you.

“Your next test is rather simple.”

One harsh curl to your sweet spot. A cry rung out.

“Don’t cum.”

The quick pace returned - a brutal pumping of fingers against your most sensitive area. With a pattern of alternating speeds the King kept you on edge for what had felt like an eternity. At this point your thighs had become coated in your juices, as were Crowley’s fingers and wrist. Your walls clenched down around him, fluttering as the rubber band in your abdomen threatened to snap.

A smirk tugged at Crowley’s lips, “Now.”

Another curl of his talented fingers took you tumbling over the edge of pleasure. Crowley buried his fingers deeper into your aching pussy, stretching your walls to fit him. He slowly pumped his fingers into you, helping you ride out the shockwaves of your orgasm. Whining against the sheets you lowered your shaking legs while Crowley removed himself from you. His hand found your mouth, which opened on instinct for him to stick his coated fingers inside. You wove your tongue between his fingers, lapping up everything that had leaked from you. The King of Hell hummed happily as you did so, removing his hand to fix your dress and moving it back into its proper place.

He gave you a firm pat on your thigh, “Now, I think we should both show a little more skin. Ending the night with just my fingers wouldn’t be very polite, would it?”

You shook your head, replying to him, “It… it wouldn’t.”

“Clever girl.”

————

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

-Bunny