#i feel like i will always be thought of as a woman for the rest of my life i feel like i will never pass as anything but a woman i feel like

[laceycoffins]

HERE LIES THE LIAR / LEON KENNEDY

1.9k words

cw: dead dove, noncon, age gaps, infidelity, toxic relationships, attempted murder, drugs, mild somnophilia, p-in-v, grinding, choking, re6 leon, allusions to other characters, suicide

You know how people have a custom, one of a kind built-in alarm system loosely called the 'gut feeling'? Except unlike Peter Parker who wields it to scarcely escape Death's touch– among its many purposes– women used it as a 'is he cheating on me or am i crazy'-o meter. In the common tongue it was also labeled as intuition, but really, was it that if you found a stray hair tie in his dress pant's pocket? When paired with this newly found evidence, along with a singular strand of long, blonde hair entwined with it, you were emboldened to give in to your suspicions.

You knew men were trouble. That he, was trouble. Your hot, older blonde boyfriend whose eyes always wandered even with your arm you linked with his. Thought he was cha-cha-real-smooth as he tried to play it cool when caught, futilely defending himself with generic responses of wondering how their clothes would look on you, or that he'd like to see you with a similar hairdo. Pure nonsense– he was no different from the other men you've dated. But you'd anchored yourself with hopes that he was poles apart because of the ring he'd slipped on your finger.

The footsteps upstairs snapped you out of your thoughts. Was he searching for you? Hastily, you tossed his pants into the laundry machine, along with the rest of the soiled clothes and bedsheets. So much for making it up to you after a month's leave. Now those passionate memories were soiled too, drowning like the laundry in the machine as water filled up the container.

"There you are. I was wondering where you went," he croaked at the doorway. His blonde cowlicks curled upwards, his gunmetal blues heavy with drowsiness. Even half-awake he was a stud. How unfair.

"You could've done that tomorrow, y'know?"

You folded your hands behind your back, the hair tie clutched tightly. A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, and your lips pressed into a thin smile, "Yeah, but I figured I'd do it now than later.

"Well hurry back-" he yawned, "-it's lonely without you." Leon murmured as he shuffled away, dragging his bunny slippers with him. You looked down at your feet. The button eyes on your own pair stared back at you, dark like the thoughts creeping into your head.

"Yeah... I'm right behind you."

It wasn't even a month later when you found another piece of evidence; a fuzz of lint on the inner lining of his jacket. It was entangled with red, likely a loose thread from a sweater. Could it have been from the blonde, or another woman? You wondered what had transpired during his out of town business meeting.

With the wedding drawing nearer, your patience ran thin and Leon was unknowingly threading on thin ice. You tried to pay no heed to the implications of your findings– perhaps it was truly a misunderstanding. Maybe a girl had asked him to hold it for her and she forgot to retrieve it. And maybe that lint was just... well, you could get creative with the excuses. Unfortunately, the final straw was when Leon broke his promise of returning home early for your anniversary, claiming he had 'work' to do. If work was code-named 'another woman', it perfectly explained the vanilla-scented fragrance clinging to his suit that night.

So you found your hands hovering over his neck one night, your knees dipped into the mattress as you straddled his waist. Under ordinary circumstances he'd awake as years of training kept him on his toes and forged him into a light sleeper. Earlier today you made sure to mix some meds with the Italian style dinner you'd made. His last meal, a salute to his heritage. You were glad he stomached the lasagna, because this way you could quietly end your misery without much fuss. His hands were handcuffed to the bed frame too, a girly, heart-shaped pair that you bought on Aliexpress during the peak of your relationship. When you bought it, it never crossed your mind as a tool for murdeing your cheating fiancee.

But you couldn't do it. The pads of your fingers ghosted against his neck and he flinched, startling you. You lowered yourself onto his torso and his brows twitched, but the dosage was stronger than his will to awake. You knitted yours; you wanted to kill him. Years of both bitter and sweet memories, and this ring, too– you glanced at his ring finger– meant nothing to him in the end. He deserved to be put in his place, humiliated for playing you like a fiddle.

A devious idea slithered into your fuzzy mind, like the serpent as it offered the forbidden fruit to Eve. You repositioned yourself to hover over his crotch, lowering yourself until you sat on it. His blonde brows knitted in recognition– something was sitting on him. But the sweet song of the siren known as sleep lulled him further from consciousness, yet he could feel it in his spirit as you ground against him. With your hands on his chest, you rutted against the appendage beneath his sweats, panties bundling between your folds as you rocked against him.

A dissatisfied hum filled the roam as you groped yourself under your tee. Your fiancee's thigh twitched underneath you as you applied more pressure against his growing hard-on. Even in his sleep he was feeling it. The thought elicited a dry chuckle, and you discarded your panties and shorts. You wanted to feel him better, closer. When you failed to connect with him emotionally, you always could physically. But maybe it was a facade since he had to chase other skirts to meet his needs.

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, letting yourself go to the sensations possessing you. You gripped his shirt when you rubbed a little too hard, your clit burned from the friction, and you soothed it with your fingers. A whine fell from your parted lips, and his eyes shivered open to fix his gunmental blues on you.

“Sweetheart–” he grimaced, eyes shot to the hard-on under your swollen mound. The damp patch on his sweats glistened in the moonlight. He tried to reach for you, but the cuffs yanked him back. His expression darkened. What was there to be angry about? The audacity. He wasn’t the one who’d been cheated on.

“What the hell are you doing?” the syllables jabbed your heart. The handcuffs clinked in protest again.

“I know what you’ve been up to, Leon. You– Shit,” your back arched as you pressed harder against him, “You think you can screw me over and just walk away?”

You squeezing the plaint mounds on his chest, fixing your eyes on him in the darkness of the room. He chewed on his lips as he jerked under you. Something in those eyes was burning. Could he feel your throbbing through his sweats? Could he feel the pain he’d inflicted to you? Nah, as if he would know. You chewed your lip, swallowing back your voice.

“Three years with you. Was it all for nothing?” Your voice trembled a little, pathetic for the show you were putting on. You lifted your hips and yanked his sweats down with one hand but struggled to free him from his boxers. A curse slipped out of you as you fumbled.

“What are you talking about?” His forehead wrinkled in confusion. He searched your expression for answers but found nothing besides your glassy eyes. The thick fog in his brain and the throbbing in his balls influenced his dissection of the situation. Then he held his breath. Had you found out about your best friend Ashley? And about the one-night stand with the double agent he could never let go? Had you just found out?

“I can explain-" a gasp interrupted him. His eyes fell on you as you stared into his while you stroked him with a tight grip. Your fiancee inhaled shallowly– he didn’t know you had it in you, so gentle and delicate with your touches until now. He kicked out, “Christ- just listen to me!”

“Shut up. This is the last pussy you’ll ever get, Kennedy,” you spat bitterly. You tapped his leaky head against your slippery slit as you bit your lip. Kennedy. You were almost a Kennedy. Your heart panged.

“Be grateful it’s mine.”

Before he could protest, you sunk yourself down on him. The stretch burned, the lack of prep chastised you with a pain you thought you’d never imagined you's relive. You whined, a hand still griping around his girth as you guided him deeper into you whilst the other traced the outline of his pecs. The older man’s jaw clenched, straining against his handcuffs. A pillow princess like you could never have imagined to be in this position, but all you could see now was red and the blurry silhouette of Leon writhing beneath you.

A smile snuck onto your face. You giggled, a muted sound in your cottony head as you wrapped your hands around his neck. You squeezed like you had aspired to earlier, a tight one that choked out a cry from him. Wide and startled blues stared back at you in horror. The ache in your heart was much like the pain between your legs, and now that you'd finally gotten what you wanted; you were happy. So happy.

When your tears fell, they pattered onto his chest. You leaned in to whisper.

"Til death do us apart, right?"

When you opened your eyes, he was already gone. The cuffs were broken, dried specks of blood decorated the bed and pillows. You expected the closet to be emptied out, but it was still occupied with hoodies, tees and the suits you’d complimented and helped dress him in. His belongings remained too, that figurine of a miniature motorcycle he'd won at an auction was still in its glass casing.

You wandered aimlessly, upstairs and downstairs, flitting from one room to the other in search of Leon. When you returned to the bedroom, you found a note on the bedside table. It was right under your nose all along. As you laid back on bed, with your thighs sore and hair matted to your sticky face, you gingerly unfolded it.

I’ll explain everything when I’m home.

A note in this day and age? He could’ve sent a text. You cackled as you shredded the paper. A scoff from you before you chucked the remains towards the ceiling. Strips of paper fluttered aimlessly above you. You laid on the bed, curling up to hug your bruised knees. You failed to kill him, and now he would kill you with the truth. Oh, who were you kidding? The girl that loved Leon Kennedy was gone the moment she found that hairtie.

Your eyes flitted to the balcony. The sun was oh so bright, so dazzling. Too dazzling for someone like you. You scraped at the crust in the corners of your eyes. Your gaze moved to the ivory railing outside. The paint had chipped off from the strong rains lately, black spots peppering its thin body.

You wondered what it’d be like for you to stand on it instead. You blinked, and you found yourself staring at a crowd below you. Huh, weren’t you in bed a moment ago? You stared at them as the wind tickled your tear stained cheeks. And in that crowd you thought you saw him once more. Your heart thumped. And so you smiled.

content by @laceycoffins. do not plagiarise, edit, translate or feed to ai. requests and commissions are indefinitely open.

[munsonsmixtapes]

I Can Do it With a Broken Heart

Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: you and Buck go your separate ways only for fate to pull you back together

cw: miscommunication

part one part two

Two Months Later

The restaurant was pretty empty when you entered it but that only made it easier to look for who you were meeting. You spotted them and made a beeline for the table, setting your purse down on the floor before taking a seat.

Nervousness was coursing through you as you rested your shaking hands on the table as a way to steady them. You didn’t know why you were doing what you were doing, but felt like at least someone should have known what was going on.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” you said, finally looking up at the person.

“It’s my pleasure,” Athena replied, taking a sip from the mug in front of her. “Now what’s going on? You sounded very nervous on the phone.”

You almost didn’t want to answer her. You could feel bile climbing up your throat as the words sat heavy on your tongue, weighing it down, almost making you unable to speak.

You were terrified to think about what Athena would think about you once you told her the news. You brought your hands to your stomach and rubbed up and down as you felt tears prick your eyes. You had gotten so close in the short time that you’d known her and you’d hate to lose her over something like that.

But you wouldn’t have lost her. Athena would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do and you make you feel good about whatever decision you decided to make. She was going to be there for you every step of the way.

“I’m pregnant,” you told her and she almost choked on her coffee as the words came out of her mouth. She let out a few coughs and then took a few sips of water before clearing her throat, composing herself to assess the situation appropriately.

“How did this happen?” She asked and you eyed her, knowing that she knew exactly how it happened.

“Well, when a man and a woman-”

“I mean, who’s the father?” You took a deep breath, your anxiety sky rocketing again, but you took a sip of the water that was sitting in front of you to ease your nerves.

With the way she was asking a question, you made the assumption that she already knew what was going on and had already gotten her answer before you could get the words out of your mouth.

“It’s Buck.” Bobby had told Athena about your night with the guy so she wasn’t surprised in the slightest. She just wanted to hear you say it.

“Have you told him?” You not telling Buck was for your own selfish reason, even though you were going to convince yourself that he was the bad guy so you had a reason to hate him because it made the whole thing hurt less.

“No. And I don’t think I want to.”

“That’s your decision, but don’t you think he has a right to know?”

“Yes, but I’m just afraid that he’ll just be mad at me. He didn’t want me, Athena, so what makes you think he wants this baby?” Buck had ghosted you when he found out that you were Bobby’s niece, so how the he’ll was he going to react to a baby?

“Then you clearly don’t know Buck as well as you thought.”

“Athena-”

“That man has been hurt time and time again and he still has nothing but love in his heart. You know that if you decided to keep it that he’d love that baby more than anything in the world.”

“Everyone in my life leaves, Athena,” you told her, feeling a sob getting caught in your throat. “I already lost Buck and I can’t let him leave again.” Everyone that mattered in your life had left except for Bobby and Scarlett and Buck was just an addition to the list.

“Oh, baby,” Athena rested her hand on top of yours. “Nobody’s gonna leave you. And even if Buck isn’t on board. You have me and Bobby and the 118 is going to love that baby as one of their own. You have a family here, y/n. Always.”

“Thank you, Athena.”

“No need to thank me. That’s what family does. They’re there for each other.” She took a sip from her coffee and you felt the weight on your shoulders lessen as you realized that you had a whole support system behind you.

“I want to keep it.” You had always wanted to be a mother and it didn’t matter to you that the baby was a surprise. That made you love them even more than they had came out of nowhere. Just another thing to bring you joy.

“And we’re going to be right here with you.” Out of all the uncertainty in your life, that was one thing that you knew for sure.

-

Buck hadn’t seen you since you had left him at the fire station not only was he hurting from that, but also because of all the things he was going through from work. Bobby had been working him like a dog when the department wasn’t out on a call and he still wasn’t sure why. Every day for the past month, he either had to clean the bathrooms, do the dishes, or even clean the engine all by himself.

The other members of the 118 all watched in curiosity and whenever they asked what was going on, Bobby would just tell them that it was between him and Buck. That didn’t stop them from trying to intervene, though, helping Buck because they didn’t think that it was fair that he was having to do all of that by himself.

At first, Buck was unsure as to why he was being treated differently, but one morning, when he was doing the dishes, it suddenly hit him. There was only one reason as to why Bobby would have been treating him like that. He must have somehow heard that Buck had slept with you and now he was punishing him for it. But who would have told him? The only person he told was-

“Eddie,” Buck called from the kitchen and thankfully the man was sitting at the table, sipping on his coffee. Eddie turned around to look at his friend and Buck waved him over so they could have the conversation in hushed tones.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked and the way Buck was looking at him was almost accusatory.

“Did you tell Bobby about what happened with me and y/n?” Eddie hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t feel like he had a right to. Especially when Buck was telling him in confidence because he trusted him.

“Why would I do that?” That was a fair question. Eddie was the kind to take secrets to the grave.

“I don’t know, but he knows. That has to be why he’s punishing me, right?” Eddie agreed. Buck hadn’t done anything else that would have warranted Bobby to behave that way.

“Actually, that’s not why I’m punishing you.” Both Eddie and Buck turned their heads and there was Bobby standing on the other side of the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Who told you?”

“No one. I overheard you two talking. And I really couldn’t care less about your sex life since you’re adults, but you hurt my little girl, Buck.” Bobby shook his head in disappointment. He knew Buck was better than that and needed to make him pay in some way even if he knew it was wrong.

“I know, Cap,” Buck rounded the counter to stand in front of him. “And I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Buck felt like a goddamn idiot for what he had done and he just hoped that Bobby would have let him clean up the mess. And that it wasn’t too late to do so.

“I don’t think I’m the one you should be saying sorry, Buck,” Bobby gave his shoulder a pat just as the sirens went off and Buck headed to the stairs, only for him to be pulled back. “I’m benching you today.”

“Bobby-”

“You have a lady to catch.” With that, Buck rushed down the stairs and made a beeline for his jeep, waiting for the engine and truck before heading to the hospital where he knew that you worked, hoping that you were on shift.

Buck couldn’t believe he was going to let you slip through his fingers just because of who your uncle was and now you hated him. You hated him because of what he had done and now you were a part of the long list of women who never wanted to speak to him ever again. But he was at least going to try to make amends this time.

He got to the hospital and raced to the maternity ward, stopping once he got to the desk, latching onto it as he caught he breath from all the running that he had done. He held up his hand to the woman behind the desk to signify that he needed a minute then finally was able to get his breathing right so that he could speak.

"I'm looking for y/n l/n. She's an employee here."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it doesn't look like she's working today." Of fucking course.

"Thank you," he replied and rushed to the elevator, pressing the button rapidly as if that would make the thing show up faster. While he waited, he fished his phone out of his pocket and rang Athena.

"Buck, what a surprise." It wasn't really since Bobby and Athena had set up the whole arrangement to get the two of you together.

"Athena, do you happen to y/n's address?" Buck stepped into the elevator and pressed the button that was going to take him back down to the parking garage when he had parked.

"Well, it's about time," she laughed. If he hadn't messed everything up, he could have had her address a month ago. But, if he hadn't messed everything up, he wouldn't have been Buck. "I'll text it to you now. And Buck?"

"Yeah?" He knew that he wasn't going to like whatever Athena was going to say, but he listened anyway.

"Don't mess this up again." Before he could reply, the line went dead and the doors opened onto the parking deck. He raced to his car and once he was in it, he got out of there a quickly as possible as he typed the address that Athena had sent him into his navigation app.

-

Athena had been the first person you told that you were pregnant and now you were honestly nervous to tell anyone else. Scarlett had just called you and told you that she was on her way home from work and you told her that you had some big news, but didn't give her a hint.

You paced back and forth in the living room, wondering why you were more nervous to tell your best friend than you were to tell your uncle's wife. Scarlett was your ride or die and would have done anything for you, even if that meant helping you raise a baby if you asked.

The door opened and you turned to see Buck standing there, looking like he had just run a mile. You made eye contact with him and his face lit up as he made a beeline for you.

You backed away from him, feeling your heart rate quicken as you realized why he was there. He had found out and Athena had told him. You thought she was going to let you do it, but you supposed that you didn’t mind letting someone else rip off the bandaid.

“So you know?” You asked, and he nodded furiously.

“Yes,” he said. “Found out this morning.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“I mean, I was a little upset at first, but I think it’s okay.” Okay? Okay? That was his response to being a father? You were beginning to think that Athena was wrong, but it actually seemed like you and Buck were talking about completely different things altogether.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” You asked and his eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer to you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Buck, what do you think this conversation is about?” You wanted to hear the words from him so you didn’t accidentally reveal your secret too early.

“Bobby overhearing our conversation and punishing me for it.”

“He did what?” That didn’t sound like your uncle, but considering the situation, you guessed that of did. But you were still allowed to be angry with him for it. He didn’t need to fight your battles for you.

“Don’t worry about that right now.” He rested his hands on your shoulders to hold you back. “What’s your news?”

“I’m pregnant.” You watched his eyes widen, but his face didn’t pale like you were expecting. He just stood there, stunned.

“But we-we used a condom.”

“And it’s a very slim chance but pregnancy can still happen.”

“I just-I don’t understand.”

“Me neither, but the damage is already done. And I just want you to know what I don’t need you, okay? I can raise this baby all on my own and I don’t need-”

Buck cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, wanting you to stop talking. You gasped against his lips, but found yourself melting into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was filled the feelings for each other that you had been bottling up for over a month, but it was still soft and sweet.

“I’m so sorry for leaving the first time. I was selfish and a dick and a coward and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I’m here now and I’m ready to support you in whatever you want to do.”

“If you’re going to support us, then you have to prove it. I want to know that you won’t just walk about again when things get hard. That you won’t just slip out in the night when they’re ten years old just because you felt like you couldn’t handle it anymore.”

With the way tears were forming in your eyes, Buck was beginning to think that that last part was personal. He knew that you had lost your mom, but he was beginning to think that you lost your dad to. That one night he just walked out on you and your mom and never returned.

So that was why him ghosting you hurt so bad. Well now he really was a dick and he was going to prove that he was never going to be like that man. He was going to be there every single step of the way no matter how hard.

“I promise.”

“I have an ultrasound appointment on Tuesday and I expect you to be there if you’re serious.”

“I’m so serious. I want to be there when they take their first steps and say their first word. All of the milestones and even just to put them down to bed. I will be there. Can I?” He asked, his hands reaching out and you grabbed onto them and pressed them to your stomach gently, resting your hands on top of his.

You watched his face light up as he looked down at your stomach, the baby growing inside of you being the product of your one night together. But he couldn’t have been more thrilled. It wasn’t exactly the way he had planned it, but he couldn’t have been more happy to be a dad and was ready to start this next chapter with you.

[nomercymaster11]

In his presence

@SuuNemuii

A/N: Law x you, afab!reader, R-18! NSFW PART ONE

The alarm you set last night jolted you awake. As you turned over, your heart sank a little—Law wasn't there, and the loneliness crept in. But then, your eyes caught sight of something that made you smile: his long sword, Kikoku, resting beside his desk. Relief washed over you; he was still in the submarine, and the night you spent together wasn’t just a dream.

You stretched, feeling the comfort of having slept so deeply. Law must have left quietly to let you rest. After a moment, you got up and changed into your suit, ready to tackle another day. Grabbing your cleaning supplies, you headed to the narrow hallway you were assigned to tidy.

Before starting, you decided to check the control room to see if Law was there. The metal door was slightly ajar, and you peeked inside. There he was, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed and one leg draped over the other, deep in discussion with the crew. You watched him for a few moments, taking in the sight of his focused expression.

He seemed so engrossed in the conversation that you figured he hadn’t noticed you. With a small sigh, you looked down and turned to leave. Little did you know, as you walked away, Law had indeed spotted you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze briefly following you with a hint of recognition.

As you reached the area where you were supposed to start cleaning, your mind was a storm of thoughts and emotions. You couldn't help but reflect on your relationship with Law. With all the missions he undertook alone, a sense of unease had taken root in your heart. You didn't want to dwell on it, but you were beginning to feel neglected. Questions about your place in his life swirled around your mind.

Law was a pirate captain with immense responsibilities and a whole crew to manage. On top of that, he was always busy. There was no doubt he loved you, yet you still found yourself questioning everything. A part of you longed to be his top priority, just like any woman would wish for. But you couldn't even bring yourself to talk to him about it, afraid he'd see you as inconsiderate. The last thing you wanted was to argue over something that seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things. Anxiety crept in, and you frowned, feeling overwhelmed.

Suddenly, a tap on your shoulder snapped you back to reality. You turned to find Law standing there, concern etched on his face. Your eyes misted over, betraying your inner turmoil.

"Is something the matter? You seemed deep in thought," Law asked, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes squinting slightly as he tried to read your expression.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

"I was... uh...," you stammered, struggling to find the right words. "I was thinking about what to do next after this," you added, trying to sound convincing.

Law wasn't fooled. He slipped his right hand into his pocket while his left hand gently cupped your face, turning it so you had to look at him. His touch was tender as he caressed your jaw.

"I'll wait for you in the bathroom," he murmured, his thumb brushing softly over your lips.

A flutter of nerves stirred in your stomach at his invitation, and you nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and relief.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

You walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. You hung your towel on the rack and placed your clean suit on the counter, ready for later. Law was already in the tub, lounging with his arms resting on the edges, his body slightly slouched. His eyes were closed, and his back was pressed against the cold metal wall. As a devil fruit user, he had to be careful not to get fully submerged in the water; it could drown him.

You approached the tub, the water cloudy and scented with the vanilla and butter bath bomb you'd bought. His eyes opened slowly as you drew nearer, and he straightened up, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Finally decided to join me…" he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "Thought you were gonna leave me hanging."

"Sorry, couldn't just leave my work unfinished," you replied, your eyes meeting his. His gaze was intense, filled with a raw desire that made your heart race.

"Strip for me," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. You began to unbutton your suit, slowly pulling down the zipper, your eyes locked onto his the entire time. Left in your black shirt and lace undergarments, you pulled the shirt over your head, feeling his gaze heat your skin.

Law's smirk widened. "Come here." You stepped closer, and his right hand slid to your waistband, gently easing off your last piece of clothing. Once you were completely bare, you stepped into the tub and sat in front of him, leaning back against his chiseled, tattooed chest.

"That's more like it," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, making you feel both vulnerable and protected in his embrace. The scent of vanilla and butter enveloped you both, mixing with the heat of the water and the intensity of the moment.

Law gently moved your hair to the side and kissed the back of your left ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Mmm... you taste so good,” he whispered, his lips trailing along your delicate, sensitive skin. His right hand moved to your breast, caressing it tenderly, teasing your nipple until it was hard and erect. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. You could feel his arousal pressing against your back.

“How does this feel?” Law asked, his voice a seductive murmur as he continued to grope your breast. You moaned in response, lost in the sensations. Any lingering worries melted away as you decided to save serious talk for later.

Law's kisses trailed sensually down your neck, his left hand sliding down to your stomach. He caressed your folded legs, moving from your upper thigh to your knees and back up until his hand brushed your inner thigh, dangerously close to your center. He teasingly touched your folds with his thumb but quickly pulled back, making you ache for more. Frustrated, you turned your head to look up at him, eyes pleading.

“Babe, I’m just getting started,” Law said with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with promise.

Without wasting any time, Law’s long finger found its way to your sensitive core, his middle finger circling it expertly. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, your breath hitching as he stroked you back and forth. This was what you had been craving for so long.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured in your ear, nibbling lightly on your earlobe.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice deep and commanding, “did you touch yourself while I was away?”

“Well... almost. Just thinking about you makes me want to,” you admitted, lifting your left hand to cup his face and trace his lips with your fingertips. He opened his mouth, and you slid a finger inside. He sucked and licked it, his eyes locked onto yours.

Suddenly, his fingers moved faster against your sensitive core, drawing a sensual moan from your lips. He increased the pressure and speed, while his other hand continued to tease your breasts, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your eyes hooded, and you bit your lip, overwhelmed by his expert touch.

“Oh, fuck yes!” you moaned, as Law suddenly slid his middle finger into your needy pussy, quickly followed by his ring finger. You grabbed onto his thighs as the arousal built up again, your body craving more.

“Kiss me, Law,” you murmured, your voice almost a plea. He stopped caressing your breast and used his right hand to turn your face toward him. Your kiss deepened, his tongue darting out to explore the depths of your mouth, dancing with yours. Both of your tongues twirled and swirled together, sending waves of sensation through both of you. You moved your hips in sync with the thrust of his fingers, placing a hand above his to guide him as he pleasured you. Law felt your muscles tense as you neared climax. With a final thrust of his fingers, you shuddered and screamed again, your body convulsing in pleasure.

“That was... fucking good,” you said, your breath coming in labored gasps.

“We’re not done yet,” Law replied, his voice low and commanding.

With a show of strength, he pushed himself up, and you followed, stepping out of the tub before him. “Do you need help?” you asked, holding out a hand as you noticed him struggling slightly. Law frowned.

“You mocking me now?” he smirked. “I’m just a bit weakened.”

As he rose from the tub, your eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his erect member, anticipation swirling in the air between you.

You looked at him, starting from his disheveled black hair dripping with water, down to his nose and lips, across his hard, toned chest and abdomen, tracing his V-line down to his erect member. He looked ten times hotter, sexier. As you moved your hand to touch his shaft, he immediately grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t do anything until I say so,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. Law liked to be in control.

“But I want to make you feel good too,” you pleaded, your eyes full of desire.

“You already have,” he replied, closing the gap between you. Effortlessly, he lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

“Hold on to me,” he ordered in a low, sultry voice. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pushed you against the flat, tiled wall of the bathroom. He hoisted you up to his eye level, leaning forward until his lips brushed gently against yours before increasing the pressure. Law tilted his head, moaning into your feverish kiss, deepening it further. You ran your hand through his hair, feeling the intensity of the moment.

Breaking away from the kiss, Law trailed kisses along your jaw with such desire that it elicited another moan from you. His lips moved down to your neck, sending shivers through your still-trembling body. The heat radiating from both of you was almost overwhelming. Your legs spread apart instinctively, wrapping around his waist, ready for whatever came next.

Law pressed his erection against you, moving his hips slowly back and forth, building your arousal as his shaft rubbed against your folds. He teased you like this for a few moments, the friction driving you wild.

“God, Law! Please!” you begged; your voice filled with primal desire. With his free hand, he guided his member to your aching sex.

“Keep your eyes open and on mine,” Law commanded as he entered you slowly, savoring every inch. You still flinched at his girth every time he entered you, always in awe that you could take him fully. You moaned as he filled you completely. He hooked his arms behind your knees, spreading your thighs further to give you both a better angle and to help you feel at ease. He kissed you deeply and held that position, your bodies joined but still, driving you crazy with anticipation.

Law's demeanor suddenly shifted to a serious one. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered,

"Don't ever doubt my love for you, (y/n)-ya."

The emotions you'd been holding back spilled over, tears streaming down your face. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes full of intensity. "I'm sorry," you whimpered, your voice barely audible.

"Shhh... don't," Law murmured, silencing you with gentle, feathery kisses on your cheeks, wiping away your tears. "You're important to me," he said, his words becoming your lifeline. "I need you more than anything," he added, his voice brimming with love and sincerity. Your body ached for him to start thrusting, but he didn’t. You squeezed yourself around him, desperate for him to move, your breath fast and your heart pounding.

Then, he began to thrust, agonizingly slow and deep, almost pulling all the way out before thrusting hard back inside. Each thrust was intimate and claiming, making you feel every inch of him. He kept this rhythm, his eyes never left yours, the connection between you both deepening with every moment. The passion between you was intense, as if your love for him had been renewed. The feeling was liberating, and in that moment, the two of you were truly one.

Your eyes momentarily slid to the side, catching your reflection in the mirror opposite you. You saw his movements, his back muscles flexing, his buttocks moving and tensing with each thrust.

The sight of him, the feel of him inside you, the intensity of his gaze—it was overwhelming.

Law let your feet touch the floor. Your legs were weak and trembling. He guided you toward the sink, turning you around to face the mirror. His hand slid around your hip and dipped between your legs, his touch making you cry out as the pressure on your sensitive core intensified. You tried to ease his hand off by gripping his wrist, but you quickly gave up, overwhelmed by the sensation. Just as you were about to cum, he removed his hand, leaving you aching and frustrated. You bent over, your ass up in front of him, desperate for him to fuck you again.

Both of his hands gripped your hips, and you felt the blunt head of his cock at your entrance. He penetrated you slowly at first, then suddenly pushed in with a breath-taking plunge that made your body instinctively move forward to soften the impact.

Law looked at the two of you in the mirror, feeling a surge of desire. His pace quickened, and your body responded, moving in rhythm with his. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoed inside the bathroom. You felt your climax building again, and you knew he could too, if he kept up this fast rhythm. Law's thrusts became more deliberate, each one driving you closer to the edge, each one claiming you as his.

Your eyes met in the mirror, and you gripped the sides of the sink.

“Oh! Har…der!” you hissed, your voice filled with need.

“I’ll give you what you want, babe,” Law growled. He pulled you back down and thrust even deeper and harder. He groaned, squeezing your waist, and cupping your bouncing breasts, fucking you relentlessly.

He locked an arm under your breasts, hauling you backward, your body jerking with each sharp thrust. Your hand reached down to your sensitive clit, circling it desperately as you chased that ultimate pleasure.

“That's it! that’s my fucking babe,” Law grunted with every thrust. The intensity of his movements drove you wild, both of you teetering on the brink of an explosive climax.

“Babe, I’m about to cum,” you told him, your voice breathless.

“Don’t hold back,” Law whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

“Let go, baby. Let me hear you scream.” You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. Law picked up the speed, feeling your body tighten around his as you approached climax.

“YES!” you screamed, and as the orgasm exploded within you, Law continued to plunge his cock deep inside, moaning with relief as he emptied himself into you.

As you both came down from your high, Law leaned over and kissed the back of your neck, leaving tiny hickeys along the way. He held you tightly, your bodies still joined, both of you trying to catch your breath. Slowly, Law pulled out, and his cum dripped from your contracting pussy, running down your legs.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing. Law wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. "You’re incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

You smiled, still feeling the aftershocks of your shared passion. "So are you," you whispered back, turning your head to steal another kiss.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

After some time, Law opened the shower, and you joined him. He scrubbed your back with a small towel. He bent down to clean your legs, sticky and sweaty with both of your cum. His tender aftercare made your heart melt. When he was done, you let him sit on a small wooden stool so you could scrub his back. Your fingers traced his battle scars, and you sighed, the worries already etched on your face.

Law stood up and turned to face you, his concern evident. He gently pulled you into an embrace.

“Let’s talk later,” he said, his voice filled with care. He could see right through you. You nodded in response.

After taking a final rinse, Law dried his hair with a towel and then draped it around his neck. He pulled up his boxers, his pants and put on his shoes. Grabbing the doorknob, he gave you one last glance.

“I love you,” he mouthed silently. You read his lips, smiled gently, and blew him a kiss.

^^^ a few minutes later ^^^

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you bumped into the trio.

"Hi!" you called out, your hands full with a bucket of cleaning supplies. Bepo, with his keen nose, sniffed the air around you.

"You smell nice!" Bepo said, taking a long inhale. "We just saw the captain a few minutes ago," he added. "And he smelled just like you." Bepo sniffed again, innocently curious. Penguin and Shachi exchanged a knowing grin as they noticed your cheeks flush red. Bepo, being an innocent Polar Bear mink, cocked his head in confusion, not understanding why the other two were smiling.

Before Penguin and Shachi could tease you, you set down the bucket and pushed them away.

"G-go away!" you stammered; your voice filled with embarrassment. The two bursts into laughter.

"Why?" Penguin asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

"We didn't even say anything," Shachi added, grinning.

"I know exactly what you guys are thinking just by looking at your faces!" you replied, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"You don’t have to feel embarrassed around us, you know?" Penguin said, still chuckling.

"Even so!" you insisted, giving them another light push.

"Whatever you say, Ms. Shy Girl," Penguin teased, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

Feeling flustered, you couldn't help but laugh along with them despite your embarrassment.

"Alright, alright, enough teasing," you said, trying to regain your composure.

Penguin and Shachi finally stopped laughing, though their grins remained. "We're just happy for you," Penguin said with a more sincere tone. "It's good to see you and the captain so close."

"Yeah," Shachi added. "You two make a great team."

Bepo nodded enthusiastically. "And you both smell really nice!" he repeated, still not understanding but wanting to be supportive.

You smiled, touched by their words despite the teasing. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

With the cleaning supplies still in your hands, you decided it was time to get back to your duties. "Alright, I’ve got to finish up here. See you later!"

As you walked away, you felt a warmth spread through you, not just from the recent moments with Law but also from the camaraderie of your crew. It was moments like these that reminded you how much this team meant to you.

^^^^^^^^

Later, as you finished cleaning and headed to your quarters, you found Law waiting for you. His expression softened as he saw you.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“Yeah, just had a little run-in with the trio,” you said with a smile. “They’re happy for us.”

Law nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Good to know.” He pulled you into an embrace, and you felt the comfort and strength of his presence.

"Spend the night with me," Law whispered in your ear, his voice low and inviting as he embraced you. Without waiting for your reply, he broke the embrace and reached for your hand, gently pulling you towards his cabin.

The evening settled into a peaceful quiet as you and Law shared a moment together. You lay next to him, your left-hand tracing gentle patterns on his chest, while his left arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

In the quiet of his cabin, the two of you began to talk. You discussed the things that needed to be addressed, your voices low and sincere. There was a new level of openness and honesty between you, a deepening of the bond that had been growing for so long. You talked about your worries, your hopes, and your dreams, finding comfort in each other's words.

The warmth of Law's embrace and the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat lulled you into a state of contentment. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you were not alone. You had Law, your crew, and the unbreakable bonds that held you all together. And with that comforting knowledge, you slipped into a restful sleep, wrapped in the warmth of love and friendship.

[khunyuki]

"I've lived my life with blade and you always in my mind"

ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ: 𝙰. 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖

Synopsis: Kagami was given an option she didn't want and she felt like going crazy. After all, the pressure and expectations that keeps crushing her already messed up her mind and health. So she decided that she's going to be selfish for once.

Pairing/s: Soshiro Hoshina x Fiancee!OC

Notes: This part is just the introduction with the OC's background and way of thinking so there aren't any moments between them yet. Still, this is quite heavy and all over the place just like her mind.

Warning/s: Depression, bullying, somehow eating disorder, anxiety, abuse, mentions of cheating

Genre: Angst

Masterlist: TOC, Side Stories, 1, 2

The Hoshina clan of swordsmen has always been active in kaiju-killing since its origins, with its current members serving in the Defense Force or being close to it. The Hoshinas have been cultivating their personal blade style, this still being used by the family members on the battlefield against kaiju.

The Uzui clan of ninjas has always been active in assisting the Hoshina clan from the shadows, with a only few of its members serving the Defence Force and the rest being assigned as bodyguards for important people. The Uzuis had been cultivating their personal blade style, however, only select individuals can manage to fully exhibit its potential, thus encouraging its family members to focus on their technical skills in weaponry.

With the decline of the Uzui clan's prowess, the clan head has decided to engage his only daughter to the youngest son of the Hoshina clan. This is not only to honor the long-time friendship between both clans but also to keep their reputation.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

"The members of the Third Division that managed to subjugate the kaiju are all being met with roaring applause from the civilians! Um... I repeat, the kaiju that appeared today has been subjugated. Everyone within the danger zone, please continue to watch out for auxiliary kaiju. I repeat..."

The sound from the television delivering the news about today's kaiju subjugation could instantly be heard as soon as one walks in the cafeteria.

Uzui Kagami stops moving and watches the news. The segment was already ending but she could still catch a glimpse of the members of the Third Division before it completely disappeared.

"As expected of Captain Ashiro, she could kill a level 6 kaiju by herself with such ease."

"You idiot, of course she could! She probably could even solo a level 9 kaiju with how strong she is."

Ashiro Mina, the Captain of the Third Division which has a rivalry with Kagami's division, the First Division. Despite being known as the strongest division of the Defense Force, famous even overseas for its exceptional power, majority of them still admire her, just like the rest of Japan. Cause who wouldn't admire such a brave and charismatic woman who doesn't hesitate in saving people and eliminating kaijus.

Kagami, herself, admires Ashiro Mina and consider her as a great role model. Though she feels even more inadequate when compared, there wasn't even a use to comparing in the first place. Captain Ashiro would definitely come to the top.

"Compared to Captain Ashiro who's naturally strong, I wonder how that person become a Platoon Leader with how weak she is." Just as she thought of that, Officer#1 did it.

"Shhh dont talk so loud or she might hear you. Though it's true that she's weak." Officer#2 supported his claims, chuckling a bit. Were they talking about her?

"With how many strong officers here, choosing her amongst us all is a like making the wrong decision ever." Officer#3 further exaggerated. Yes, they were.

Well, they weren't wrong. Each officer belonging to the First Division is estimated to have a released force of 40% or higher thus making them stronger than Platoon Leader class. Furthermore, each Platoon Leader within the First Division has the potential to become a captain. For a Platoon Leader, Kagami's released force is at 43% making her a part of the bottom tier of the rankings. It truly is a wonder how she got in this position, she doesn't know it herself.

"The three of you! Extra training starting this afternoon until tonight for disrespecting your superior!"

While she was pondering over her thoughts, neglecting to touch her food, she was brought back to reality by her fellow Platoon Leader, Shinonome Rin's loud voice.

"C-calm down, Rin-chan. It's alright. They didn't say anything wrong so let's not make a big deal out of this, okay?"

The sudden attention they were attracting was a bit too much for her heart. Why would her friend suddenly act like this?

"It's because you're like this that you're being disrespected! It is an even greater disrespect to the people who placed you in that position to question their decision!"

"I-i understand. Look, I'll even train them on your behalf. Let's just finish eating for now, hm?"

Scared, Kagami tried to compromise in order to finish it faster so that the attention could move away from them.

"Just make sure you don't half-ass it or else..."

"I promise."

With that, things have finally settled and they once again resumed their meal. Other than the fact that Kagami had already lost her appetite and had been forcing herself to finish her food without showing signs that she's forcing it, it was fine.

.

.

Being truthful to her promise, she welcomed the three officers who badmouthed her earlier to the training room right after lunch.

"I know you guys have a lot to say so you can let out all of your complaints during this training. However, I wouldn't hold back since I made a promise to Platoon Leader Shinonome not to do so. Well then, I wish you good luck."

The beginning of the afternoon started with screams and shouts until it turned to grunts and silence as soon as it turned night.

.

"Alright, we're all done with the training. Good job everyone for keeping up! I'll be heading out first so make sure to patch up, have dinner, take a bath, then rest, okay~"

Uzui Kagami left the training room as if she didn't just leave a stack of corpses... I mean a stack of exhausted officers behind.

"Who said Platoon Leader Uzui was weak again? She's practically a stamina monster not even letting us rest for a bit." Officer#2 groans.

"It was Officer#1. Comparing her with Captain Ashiro thus bringing up the topic." Officer#3 blamed Officer#1 for starting it.

"Don't blame this on me! You talked shit about her too! And how was I supposed to know that her innate strength is even stronger than the released power of the suits could give?" Officer#1 almost cried.

"Let's not underestimate her ever again" they all agreed.

"She's truly so kind, not only did she defend us from Platoon Leader Shinonome, she even told us to take care still even after we insulted her behind her back like that" she wasn't defending you, she just doesn't want attention to herself😤

.

They all collectively agreed that Platoon Leader Uzui Kagami was an angel amidst the devils of the First Division. Oh how guilty they felt when they insulted such a person. They finally realized why her squadron was so overprotective of her.

If only the person intended to hear their words remained a second longer, she would've heard it. If only she didn't just listen to all the negative things being said to her but also the good things like the compliments and praises her division, mainly her squadron, sings for her. Then maybe she wouldn't have made that decision.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

The next day, it was finally her long awaited day off but this time she wasn't looking forward to it at all. Usually she would be happy having the day all to herself, however, today just wasn't it because it's a day full of with misery for her. She would usually fall asleep with a heavy heart but last night, she didn't get to sleep at all due to the mix of insomnia, overthinking, regrets, anxiety, self-deprication, and just whatever bad thoughts that keeps you up at night. It was a sign, a premonition that today would be one of the worst days of her life.

.

.

Early morning, she headed to the Uzui family's estate. If only time could stop, she even wishes for a kaiju to appear though she immediately regretted it due to guilt of wishing deaths to hundreds of lives of people. She just didn't want to go there as much as possible.

The Uzui family estate's main branch is a humongous traditional Japanese household maintained through various generations. It is said that her favorite ancestor gained this mansion from his master as a reward for his excellent feats back in Taisho era. A flamboyant shinobi who greatly contributed in killing kaijus since, along with his three wives and children, after suffering from a career-ending injury, lived in harmony. If only the same thing could be said in today's time.

Today, a family meeting is being held just like it did every month. She didn't have any choice but to attend as it her duty as the sole heir of the clan head which is something she dreaded the most.

The purpose of the meeting is to talk about the state of the estate, business and etc... In reality, the true purpose of this meeting is to pressure and persuade her to finally quit the force and get married. She's getting older so she needs to bear an heir before accidentally dying on duty.

In the first place, her family was against her joining the Defense Force after her mother's death. As there were no next heir candidate, her safety and wellbeing is more important than not.

The only reason they allowed her to join was because her fiancee, the current Vice Captain of the Third Division of the Defense Force, Hoshina Soshiro persuaded them. Back when they joined, he made a promise to her family that he'll stay by her side and protect her from harm. They placed greater trust in his words than hers so they relented. The only thing they didn't expect was for him to leave her and join the Third Division.

When that happened, they blamed her for not doing anything to stop him. They criticized his actions and how he betrayed their trust so on and so forth. But when he soon got promoted to his current position, they were like a bunch of leeches. Foxes they are for acting like they didn't do anything wrong nor talked behind his back.

Kagami is repulsed to see this side of her family. She knew her family well, after all, she grew up in this household. She was fine with them insulting, ignoring, beating her but she would never allow them to talk bad about her fiancee even if it meant another round of punishment awaits her.

She loves her family, she truly does. But she is also aware that how they kept treating her is wrong but she couldn't do anything about it. They have her on chokehold, shackles on her wrists and ankles. She was granted freedom but she's still chained to this place because she chose to do so.

She wants to preserve her family lineage as that was her responsibility drilled to her since birth. She does want to fulfill their wishes and demands but she couldn't. Just as she has a responsibility to her family, she also has a responsibility to her work and to her fiancee. She doesn't wish to throw any of that away even at the cost of her deteriorating mental health. Yet her family demands that she deem the rest unimportant and ignore their wishes to satisfy their own.

Sometimes she wishes that she was stronger than now. If she continued the act of being the perfect child, maybe she wouldn't be struggling. The failures she'd experienced kept on piling up and it was suffocating her. Her family knows this so they kept shoving it in her face, further bringing her down.

If she was stronger, she could prove it to them that she could do it all without sacrificing her happiness. She could be a proud member of the Defense Force without looking down on herself. She could be Soshiro's wife, something she wished to be ever since she was a child. She could bear his child and bring an heir to this family. But she couldn't.

She is weak and she knows this. The Defense Force doesn't need her. Soshiro doesn't need her. Her family doesn't need her. They only want to use her as a tool to fulfill their greed.

Kagami doesn't know for how long she could keep this up. They kept feeding into her brain thoughts she didn't want to hear, things that aren't real. It happened for so long that she believes it to be true. She was pathetic, useless, incompetent, a waste of space, and that everything that goes wrong was all her fault. And she believes it. Everything is her fault.

She often wonders why she kept struggling like this. She had already accepted for a long time that she had no right to do so yet she still hasn't relented. She blames herself for not giving her family the satisfaction of seeing her break.

The thing is... She felt crazy. Everyday, she's having a mental breakdown. Everyday, she felt like crying and just laying down on her bed. But acknowledging it meant that she's admitting to the people that she's a failure.

She's been an imposter for so long, pretending to be a good person in front of other people that she didn't really know what she is. Was she the useless child her family tells her she is? Was she the perfect person she tries to pretend she is? Was she the kind person she shows her comrades she is? Was she really as reliable a fiancee she thinks she is? Or was she just a recluse who wishes to hide from people? Someone unworthy of being by her fiancee's side? Just what is she?

All she knows at that moment is that she has to smile. Despite the sinking feeling on the stomach, the need to vomit out her system, scratch her skin from anxiety. Act like nothing bothers her. That's what her family taught her. She didn't know. Her mind is a mess. Her thoughts are scattered yet she still had to listen to her family's discussion.

.

"On that note, yesterday, the Third Division of the Defense Force neutralized a kaiju once more. What an amazing feat indeed!"

"Vice Captain Hoshina is truly amazing! Juzo-sama, you must be proud for having such a great son-in-law!"

"Of course, Soshiro is my true pride and joy! I've been waiting for a very long time to welcome him in our family."

.

When they noticed she wasn't replying to their taunts at all, they changed the topic of conversation. Well, of course she wouldn't be able to reply, it's already taking her all to not pass out. She looks at her father when he said that Soshiro was his pride and joy.

She remembered Uzui Juzo, her father telling her she was his pride and joy as a child when her mother was still alive. After she died, he became an entirely different person who blames her for her mother's death despite her not being involved at all. It was an accident during checkup that killed her mother and unborn brother. She wasn't there nor did she do anything that day. Yet she still accepted his wrath for he is her father.

It was fine if she's no longer his pride. It was fine if he punishes her for no reason. It was also fine if he insults her in front of other people when she's there. For as long as he respects her fiancee then she is fine. It's fine.

.

"Speaking of, when will the two of you get married, Kagami-sama?"

Once again, the focus was back to her.

"Soshiro-san is very busy with work and has no plans yet."

"We've already waited for years! Just for how long are you going to make us wait?!"

.

The same old questions. Why do they keep on rushing when they aren't the ones getting married? She respects her fiance's wishes since she knows he's not ready yet.

.

"Maybe the two of them aren't in good terms?"

"Is that true, Kagami?"

Juzo, her father asked her to which she immediately denied, cold sweat trickling on her neck.

"Not at all, father. Soshiro-san and I are in good terms"

He rubbed his beard in thought. They truly were in good terms, at least that's what she thought.

.

"As they say, it isn't about the length of the relationship. Perhaps Soshiro-sama just doesn't want to get married to her"

"I heard Soshiro-sama is in good terms with Captain Ashiro! Oh how great it must be for them both being powerhouses, they're really compatible! Have you seen how close the two of them were during yesterday's subjugation?"

"Even the media kept on saying how good the two of them look together! Meanwhile, Kagami-sama seemed to be closer to her Captain than her own fiance"

Shameless, Kagami thought. These elders kept on saying whatever they want.

.

"Captain Narumi is my superior. Our relationship is strictly professional"

"Is giving another guy a piggyback ride professional though? Just the thought of being touched by another man other than my husband gives me a scare, what more of someone who hasn't married yet?"

"Are you implying that I am cheating on my fiance?"

"I never said that, Kagami-sama! How could you accuse me of such a thing?!"

Pissed off, Kagami could no longer manage her expressions. Her eyebrows were twitching turning into a frown. The smile she kept up from the moment she arrived until now dropped. She loves her family but how could they such a thing?!

.

"That is enough! This meeting had long since steered off course. You are all dismissed. Kagami, stay behind"

Before it turned into a huge fight where Kagami could be punished once more for raising her hand against an elder, her father stopped them. His eyes were closed as he still rubbed his beard, deep in thought. One by one, those nosy elders left not without leaving her a sneer or a smirk. When it was only the two of them, her father opened his eyes.

.

"I will only ask you this once. What is you relationship with the Captain of the First Division?"

"Captain Narumi is just my superior, father. I've... been tasked with looking after him for he is a bit hard to manage"

"Why would a Platoon Leader like you take care of your Captain? Isn't it the Vice Captain's job to do so?"

"Vice Captain Hasegawa is an incredibly busy man who has to manage both of their works as Captain Narumi refuses to do so. It was him who told me to make sure that the captain does his work properly"

"And why is that?"

Kagami didn't know why her father was interrogating her like this. Their relationship is only platonic and strictly professional. Never did it cross her mind to cheat on her fiance with another man. She felt like anything she says will be used against her no matter what words she chooses.

"For he only listens to me..."

Biting her tongue, Kagami didn't know how her father will react. She was sweating buckets and her throat was dry, making it difficult to gulp. It got even dryer when she notices his eyes get sharper.

"Why would he be listening to someone like you?"

Looking down, Kagami felt hurt by how sharp his words were. Someone like her... doesn't even deserve to be heard. Just like how her words kept on entering her father's ear and leaving on the other.

"I don't know father"

.

.

.

"Are you sure you haven't been seducing him?"

Ahhh, there it is. The accusation that she'd been expecting.

"I have not, father. Our relationship is strictly professional. Captain Narumi and I do not have feelings for each other. He is also aware that I am engaged"

"How would you know if he has feelings for you or not? Someone as dumb and useless as you should even be glad that someone likes you, even though I do not see why he would do so"

"..."

"Bring that man here next weekend"

"May I ask why, father?"

"I shall see if he's fit to be the next head of this family"

With widened eyes, Kagami couldn't believe what she's hearing. Was her father implying what she think he is implying?

.

"Father, I have a fiance! Soshiro-san and I have been engaged since we were children! It was you who had decided that from the start so why..?"

"You already said it. You've been engaged since you were children yet until now there had been no progress in your relationship! Not only did you not seduce your own fiance, you have also seduced another man!"

His voice was gradually getting louder and it fills Kagami with fear. Her father never believed in her words, at all. He had already decided that she cheated when she did not.

"Consider your engagement to the Hoshina's void! Forget honoring our promise to each other when my own daughter have already shamed me over and over!"

"Father, please! Soshiro-san is my fiance! We've been engaged since we were children! He is all that I have so please do not take him away from me! Hoshina Soshiro is the one that I love not any other man!"

Kagami crawled over to where her father is and clung to his clothes. Her father tried to pry her of him as he tries to leave but her grip was so strong. This can't happen. She can't let this happen.

"You can take everything away from me, just not Soshiro! Please! I'd rather let you kill me than let him leave me, father!"

She begged her father with tears falling from her eyes. She doesn't know what to do. Only letting her instincts do the work as she's already shut down from feeling anything. And her instincts are telling her to hang on, hold on to Soshiro.

"Please... I'll die, father. I will kill myself and bring this clan to ruin if you do so!"

When her tears turned to anger, she looked him in the eyes with such hatred she never thought she could feel. Soshiro is the only person that has been by her side this whole time, who keeps on supporting and encouraging her. She's been lost the whole time yet comes back everytime because he's there. He's her light, her hope, her entire life. She could endure all of the disrespect because he was there.

"You crazy woman! Is this how you treat your father after everything?!"

Using all of his strength, he slapped Kagami causing her to fall down the tatami floor with a loud thud, hitting her head. He stood up and kicked her body away from him, preparing to leave once more.

"You have never once treated me like your own child after mother died! You have never treated me like a human being and never respected my decisions! If you continue to take him away from me then i will truly go crazy and trust me you do not wish to see that"

She no longer clung to him and instead glared at him with much hatred, all the years of abuse coming out of her. Blood trickled down her face and the view made her father take a step back in fear when he looked back. She was filled with so much killing intent that her father almost peed in his hakama.

.

"Y-you... I'll give you one last chance. Leave the Defense Force and marry Soshiro at once. If you fail to do so, then consider your marriage and position in this family gone!"

He pointed his fingers at her and left without hearing her answer. If Kagami was in her right mind, she would never consider such a thing. She'd leave the family and still marry Soshiro but she wasn't. Her entire being is still chained to this family and she's drowning. With them forcing her under the water all the time. But this time, they crossed the line.

She's been running on adrenaline this whole time and once her father left, it all came crushing down on her. She lost her strength and laid on the floor, with her knees clutched to her chest.

Kagami wanted to cry. But tears were no longer coming out. She felt empty and broken. She should be used to this. Having everything taken away from her. She's been expecting them to take Soshiro away too but never expect herself to act like that.

She just want to see Soshiro.

[iliketangerines]

Hola! You’re freaking awesome and I’m loving your writing. I’m amazed you can put out so much and I hope you ain’t overdoing it. Seeing that you can do Rain I was wondering if you could do something with him meeting an Earthrealm woman with a fuller figure (larger chest, wider hips, plush thighs) you could also say chubby (definitely not me projecting). He is surprised he is kind of into that and how desperate he is to put his face in between her tits. He gets curious and wants to know how she feels and maybe figure out why he is so desperate, saying it’s just a little experiment. He manages to charm her into going to bed with him and he finds out he’s hella into it. Just loving how soft she is and how he is able to squish almost anything on her body. After that his perception on Earthrealm is that they aren’t all that bad and he will do anything just to see her again and have her in bed.

curious about your softness

a/n: was feeling rather fluffy as i wrote this

pairing: rain x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

you arrive with the rest of the Earthrealm defenders, tagging behind Raiden and taking your time to survey the surroundings of the throne room

your eyes only skirt over him, taking in his broad shoulders and mage staff before you observe the rest of the Outworlders, but he cannot take his eyes off you

you look so different from the rest of the Earthrealmers, softer and rounder, but he can see the strength in your body as you cross your arms and give Reiko a hard glare

while the rest of the defenders certainly had their fair share of softness, muscles protected by thin layers of fat, they were lean, thin, slim, just like most of the Outworlders

however, you do not fit the archetype of a typical warrior, and Rain only watches you as Raiden battles Reiko the court and wins every single fight

he wonders if you’re just as soft as you look, what you sound like, what you look like underneath all the armor, if you had freckles, moles, marks on your skin

at the banquet, he tries to sit as close as possible to you, but you’re sandwiched right between Kung Lao and Kenshi

every time he tries to get close, someone always blocks his way, and he was starting to feel desperate to even talk to you

why was he so desperate to talk to you?

Rain shakes off the thought as he walks through the imperial gardens, trying to rid you from his mind

he has plans with General Shao and Shang Tsung, and he must concentrate on harnessing his powers and not getting distracted by the curves of your body

his training had taken a toll ever since you had arrived, and he could not afford to fail his mission because of you

he turns the corner in the path toward the waterfall to listen to the sound of rushing water and trickle of water to calm his mind

the sound of water starts to fill the air along, and he lets out a breath, feeling the familiar power of water fill his veins

brushing past a bush, he freezes when he sees a figure by the water, shoes discarded and legs swaying in the water of the lake, and his heart stutters when he realizes it’s you

you turn your head at the sound of the leaves rustling, and there’s not a single expression on your face to indicate surprise when you see him in the bushes

you simply turn away from him and continue to look at the water sparkling underneath the moonlight, and Rain doesn’t know whether he should continue with his plan or retreat

he cannot retreat, if he is to have bravery to try and usurp the throne, he could not back out of his safe space simply because someone else was there

walking up to the edge of the pond, Rain puts down his staff and sits cross-legged near you but not next to you, and he places his hands on his knees and closes his eyes

he tries to meditate, to focus on the flow and power of the water rushing through him to tweak his own powers

but his thoughts are polluted by thoughts of you, thoughts of you in the water, droplets clinging to your skin and sliding down your curves

his eyes snap open as he realizes a warmth covers his cheeks, and he would not be able to concentrate on honing his powers with you around

Rain presses his lips together, not wanting to leave so early because he didn’t want to offend you, but he wouldn’t be able to concentrate with you here

glancing over to you, he sees you aimlessly staring at the water, and he can’t help but turn to stare at your beauty, how the moonlight frames your hair and your face perfectly

you look relaxed, content without the usual stress he saw etched into your face as you watched the fights or anytime you were out in public

then, your body turns to him, and your eyes stare directly into his, piercing through him and staring right into his soul, as if digging out his innermost secrets and his forgotten ambitions and dreams

you ask him if he needs anything, and he lets out a strangled sound to stall for time as his tongue stumbles for articulated words to try and impress you

except no words come to him, so he just stares at you dumbly with an expression that makes you snort

his face flushes, and he’s started to sweat underneath his hood

you hold your hand out to him, introducing yourself and giving him your name, and Rain takes it, giving you his name and hoping his voice didn’t sound too scratchy

turning back to look at the water, you ask if he also couldn’t sleep, and he wants to say he can’t sleep because you plague his every thought

Rain bites his tongue and just agrees softly, saying that he’s been troubled and the waterfall helped to calm his mind

you hum in agreement and splash your feet in the water, a silence falling upon the two of you, but he wants to hear you more, wants to hear your sweet voice

running through questions in his head, he blurts out the first one he can think of: how were you liking Outworld so far

you look back at him, humming as you think, and then you finally answer that you like the food here, it’s different from your hometown but very filling and delicious

then you go on and say that the culture here though is beautiful and full of colors, and it’s very captivating to see what you had learned about at the Wu Shi Academy but in real life

Rain nods as you keep talking, drinking in every word you speak, and he moves a little closer to hear you better

the moon passes overhead as the two of you talk and talk, and soon the sun peaks over the horizon as you two get back up to head to your respective rooms

before you can go, already back toward the bushes to leave, he asks if he can see you again here tomorrow night before you go back to Earthrealm

you face him again and nod, telling him to meet you here when the sun goes down, and then you leave, quiet as a murmur back to your room

Rain looks into the small pond and sees his reflection and nearly cringes at the sight

he looks like a mess, dark eyebags and slightly mussed hair from taking it out of his usual ponytail, and he quickly hurries back to his room to make himself look presentable for the court

the day was long and exhausting, and he was just about over it

still, there was a festival tonight, and he had to be present for the opening ceremony at the very least

donning his nice robes and checking that his mage staff still looked presentable, Rain made his way to the heart of the town and stepped up onto the stage near the princesses

his eyes looked upon the crowd, the sun starting to dip below the horizon, and he waited for Empress Sindel to give her speech and to let the festivities start

the second they cleared him to leave, Rain nearly sprinted off the stage, feeling rather uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on him

too much studying and not enough socializing had left Rain with little to no social skills, and yet he was still able to bring you back for another conversation tonight

he rushed off to the gardens, the sky a brilliant collage of dark reds and yellows colliding into a simmering sunset

making his way through the brush, Rain spotted you with your feet in the water, wearing something much fancier than last night

it hugs your curves, showing off every bit of you, and he feels his mouth go dry when you turn and beckon him over to sit next to you

he does so gladly, crossing his feet and setting his staff off to the side, and you start with small pleasant conversation

the two of you exchange useless meaningless conversation, but he collects every drop of information he can get from you: from your favorite time of the day to your favorite color

he listens until the moon is high in the sky again, and the conversation lulls into a comfortable silence

you’re leaning back, hands in the stone flooring that encircles the pond, and Rain’s hand is right next to yours

if he just moved it slightly, his hand would be on top of yours

his heart nearly beats out of his chest at the thought, and he instead draws his hand a little further from yours

he wanted to feel your softness, your fullness, your everything

he wanted every part of you dearly, and his eyes travel over the patterns and details sewn into the outfit you have on

you sigh and hum, kicking the water with your feet and move your hand, fingers brushing against his, but you don’t move them

they’re warm compared to his skin, and Rain doesn’t move a single muscle

the two of you just sit side by side in silence until you move your arms and stretch out your back, groaning at the feeling before standing up

you say that you need to start heading back, Liu Kang was expecting you and the others to be back in about an hour, and Rain quickly stands up next to you, brushing off dust from his pants

he holds out his hand, not sure why he does so, and you have a confused look on your face, brows turned upward with a small nervous smile

you still take his hand, and Rain kisses the back of your fingers, heart beating much too fast and face much too warm to be normal

your face has gone warm as well, and your mouth is slightly parted as you look up at him with wide eyes

he asks you when he can see you again, he’d love to show you around Sun Do properly instead of being cooped up in the palace due to safeguarding

you say you’re not sure, but you take your hand away from his and dig into your pockets and hand him a small charm

in a soft voice, you tell him that you had just bought it at the market during the beginning of the festival for some reason, and now you know why

Rain holds it up, and it glows a light purple, like him

you tell him that you’ll be coming back for it, so he better be here when you come and visit again

Rain holds the charm and asks to walk you out, and you hold your arm out for him to take

the two of you walk back to the portal with dopey smiles on your faces

[hwangism143]

treat you better

synopsis: in which changbin gives you a pick me up, while making you realize your feelings along the way

pairing: non-idol!changbin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort, platonic to something else (?)

warnings: mentions of eating, starvation, fatphobia, self-hate, fatshaming

word count: 1.1k words

requested by: @kayleefriedchicken

now playing: treat you better - shawn mendes

a/n: i'm open to writing a part two, if kaylee and the rest of u want me too!

"when you could be with me instead?"

Society's view of women was so fundamentally that it led women themselves to believe that they were fundamentally flawed.

The obsession this wretched society had with a women's appearance and the amount of hatred they displayed to a woman when she didn't fit the bill was enough to ruin somebody's faith in humanity. Maybe that's why you were so wary of people.

They thought their comments were passable, needed constructive criticism. Hell, they thought their words were encouraging. But in truth, every sentence felt like a deeper stab wound, pushing you to the brink of exhaustion in an effort to just be acceptable.

You rarely made friends. Each time you did, it just took a few weeks for them at most to say something along the lines of the way you look. The distaste, covertly disguised as concern, was so familiar to you that you instantly knew it.

It was the same situation you had to suffer through at the hands of your family for eighteen years.

And so, when you met Changbin for the first time, despite taking an instant liking to him, you kept him at an arm's length. You waited, waited for him to say something and anything about your weight, your face, you skin.

Why? Because Changbin was somebody who genuinely seemed to look past the way you appeared and having never felt that, you constantly thought he was taking advantage of you. But he never was. Over five years of friendship and he was still here, with you.

He took you to the gym and helped you get on top of losing any harmful weight. He introduced you to his friends, as kind to you as he was. (Except maybe Seungmin. Seungmin was a little shit.) But most of all, he was always there, a shoulder to cry on and an ear to talk off.

Whenever you felt like you were posing to be a bother to him, he replied with a quick, "You can always talk to me, I will always be here for you."

That was why you were currently sitting on his apartment sofa, your eyes red and puffy and his full of concern.

Once again, un fucking lucky you, was regarded based on looks, not merit. You were passed over for a promotion you had worked relentlessly a whole year towards in favor of a younger, prettier college fresher.

To make it even better, you had dinner with you loving family. Your mother prodded at you, forbidding you from eating anything more than a morsel which was unfit to fill the stomach of a baby. Your father joked around about how you looked less 'whale-like' from before, but still retained some of it's qualities. Only your sister gave you a reassuring smile, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

It was ironic. Your parents acted as if you invited yourself to dinner, as if it wasn't them begging for you to join them for just one meal.

You were spiraling again.

Maybe not eating would be better.

You weren't obese. You weren't even overweight. Just curvier than the beauty standards that accompanied most women these days. But the world was so fucking dystopian that people were ready to come at you like sharks to chum.

This world was so fucking dystopian that even you were quick to berate yourself.

It had taken a very, very long time for you to finally love the way you looked standing in a mirror. It had taken a long time for you to even face a mirror. And yet, you still poked at the skin the hung loosely on you, pinching yourself until you felt like crying.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To say that Changbin was worried would be an understatement. He had seen you at your best and worst, and could say with his full chest that he preferred you at your best.

Watching you cry made it feel like his throat was drying up. Making you happy came as naturally as drinking water to him; so you not being happy had severe consequences. The repercussions were deadly, but then again, Changbin was spending a lot of time as of late with Hyunjin.

"My curves are in all the wrong places," you huffed, picking at your skin.

"I am of the humble opinion that wherever your curves are, those places instantly become the right places," Changbin retorted.

He handed you a bowl of ramen and gave you a glare that sent a resounding message of 'eat. or else you will be attacked by tickles.' You bit your lip nervously. Maybe not eating really, truly would help. But you knew that he damn well knew that family dinner meant you were coming home hungry.

Changbin looked at you, his eyes softening. "Everything will feel that's it's not okay but don't forget - you're not alone this time."

You give him a small smile. You would never be alone when you had Changbin. But you wouldn't be free from the demonic voices in your head either.

"I know, it's just-"

"Stop," Changbin interrupted you gruffly, "and eat. And let me speak."

He brought his face level to yours. "You, Y/N L/N, are beautiful. I am so sorry that you have never had anyone to say this to you, but it's true. You're so beautiful that quite frankly, the first time I met you, you took my breath away. So stop making yourself feel inferior because I care for you and I will always be here to tell you that you are an incredible woman."

He turned quickly, as if he had committed some forbidden act. You felt a blush creep up your cheek. The lined between 'just friends' and 'something more' blurred indefinitely. But that was a headache to deal with for another day.

"Changbin?" you said softly.

"Hm?" came his steady response.

"You're very beautiful too," you told him.

A smile slowly stretched across his face, his eyes still trained on the wall in front of you. You were entranced by the way his hair fell into soft curls and the way his eyes sparkled like stars were embedded into them.

You were so lost in his features that you didn't even notice Changbin reach for your ramen and take a bite, munching on it silently.

And so, two beautiful people sat on a couch. One, who slowly came to terms with how she really felt about the person next to her, the way his very presence lighting her up ignited flames that friends don't feel. And the other, who had been in love with her since the first time he saw her.

Changbin decided to ask you out on a date tomorrow.

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist (reply to be added):

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

@hongshuaknow @cookiesandcreammy @kayleefriedchicken @toomanybiasz

@seooj444 @soaplickerrr @nappynapnaps

[ducktracy]

what a fantastic transition

[rustbeltbabey]

boo hoo sad pity party posting hours LMAO but I rlly truly don't think I will ever be in another relationship again. I don't feel that I will every b desirable or deserving enough, and I don't feel like I will ever even b seen as a guy n idk. I just don't know.

[tittyinfinity]

I was hanging out at the karaoke bar, chatting with a beautiful woman, and we were really hitting it off. I threw a couple of flirtatious comments her way. She giggled nervously, but abruptly stopped and looked at the floor.

She told me that she was too nervous to hit on people because she's trans and worries that people will view her as a predator and that she might get hurt.

My heart sank. I let her know that she could hit on me in whatever way she wanted and I would LOVE it. We spent the rest of the night hanging out and flirting. We ended up making out. It was great.

But I can't stop thinking about how that wasn't the first time a trans woman has said that to me. About how unsafe it is for some women that they feel the need to give out fucking disclaimers to have normal interactions with people.

We have GOT to make the world a safer place for trans women. It pisses me off that there are men at the bar who are openly predatory towards me without fear of consequence, yet a trans woman is too scared to even fucking call me pretty. And that's because she IS more likely to face worse consequences for lesser things! Like what the fuck!

You need to always check on your internalized biases. Being queer yourself doesn't absolve you of transmisogynistic thoughts and behaviors. Being bi/pansexual doesn't mean you don't hold those biases either! If you feel differently about a trans woman hitting on you than you feel about a cis woman or a man hitting on you, you need to evaluate that.

Trans women, I love you so fucking much. You should be able to express attraction and love as freely as everyone else. I hope you can always feel safe around me. And I'll never stop fighting until you can feel safe period.

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight-kilo baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of reluctance that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[kamitv]

could you write about who you think are the most touch/affection-starved of the jjk boys? the thought of them crumbling at the slightest touch and savoring every second with us makes me 🥴🥴🥴

▷ Delicate

Sypnosis . Men who fold under your touch. / Pairings . (Separate) Nanami x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Ino x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, established relationships, fluff, begging men, sensitive men, soft sex, filth, dirty talk, etc. / wc . 4.8k

A/N: Grieving over the loss of my man right now-- Gege I hate you and the air that you breathe. This was going to include more men but due to the loss of my lover, my mood was ruined and I couldn’t finish what I had for the others… Anyway, not proof-read, hope you enjoy! ^.^ [MDNI]

★ Nanami Kento

While it may be a bit... unexpected, yes, Nanami is sensitive to your touch. Each one lingers on his skin, seeps through his clothing, and tattoos itself onto him.

He's a very stoic and, usually, stern man but when it comes to you, he's almost like putty under your touch. It's intoxicating really, the way you're always caressing his arms, grabbing his hand to hold when the two of you walk or even during sex.

You're quite the touchy woman and Nanami can't say he doesn't love that about you.

When he comes home after a long day of work, you'd rush to the door to greet him, dressed in your comfort clothes from head to toe with that bright smile of yours latched to your face. Your hands are on him instantly, helping him rid himself of his coat, his tie, hell, even his shoes sometimes if you're feeling enthusiastic enough.

It's cute really. The way you help him undress as soon as he steps into the house, asking him how his day was and reciprocating with a not-so-eventful tale of your day. He's listening to your every word though, hanging off every syllable even, but you don't notice it.

Even as you guide him toward the kitchen to show him a surprise dinner you'd whipped up, you're rambling about something concerning your cooking process and he's hearing every word but, the way your fingers slip down his arms, curl around his wrist to pull him along, release him and then press into his chest to stop him from walking-- it was truly alluring.

Nanami swears he wasn't always this sensitive to touch. He doesn't know why exactly his heart swells in while you keep your hand flat on his chest, your attention on some nearby pot as you continue to talk.

You were explaining something but he'd stopped listening, his eyes all over the side of your face and soon trailing to your arm, and then to the hand you've got on him.

Nanami's hand would be moving before he even realizes, slipping so gracefully to your wrist and moving your hand off of him just to lean down a bit and plant a loving kiss across your knuckles.

"And then I almost-," His sudden kiss would make your brain freeze, head whirling in his direction to see your husband planting peck after peck before he shifts your hand to cup the side of his face and then meets your gaze.

Those gentle brown eyes of his would be so sappy and soft with you, filled with a love you can hardly comprehend as he rests his head against your palm, grinning at you. What a handsome man you've married.

You couldn't be happier as you look at him, even with the sigh that leaves you, "Kento..."

His brows would raise ever so slightly, "Hm?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?" You'd huff out. And there's this slight frustration in your voice but he loves it anyway, completely and utterly smitten for you no matter the situation.

Nanami nods, just barely, before turning his head and kissing the inside of your palm, "Mhm," He hums casually, "You were telling me how you almost burned our kitchen down."

"Yes, and..." Your eyes narrow at the man, watching how he just kisses and kisses your palm, almost as though he couldn't pull himself away, "Ken..." Your hand slips a bit and you caress his face, "Are you okay?"

His hand, much veinier and larger than yours, would come up and cup yours over his face, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Your touch is just so... soft."

That earns a smile from you, "Is it?" You'd giggle amid your question, eyes lowering at the man before you.

"Yes, it is," Nanami responds simply. Then he begins moving your hand to the side of his neck and his head tilts as he looks at you, stepping closer and closing the slight space between you and him, "I love how gentle it is, how loving, how caring."

"Oh?" Your smile widens and you move your other hand away from the, now forgotten, pot and it goes toward the buttons of his shirt, "Should I start touching you more then?"

"I implore you to, yes," Nanami huffs out, his body leaning toward yours.

You bring your lower lip into your mouth and tip your head a bit, one hand toying with the buttons of his shirt and the other caressing the side of his neck, "Since when has my touch had you this... pleading," You question, words coming out slow as his eyes drop to your lips.

Your husband takes his other hand and grabs a careful hold onto your wrist, dragging your hand further down his body and making you feel against his abs through his clothing as he leans closer to you. His free hand then moves to your waist and he tugs you to him, closing any and all space left.

"Always," Nanami confesses to you, "Your touch makes me weak, sweetheart." He explains with that gentle yet deep voice of his, always so soft when speaking to you.

You smile, "Weak?"

"Yes, weak," Nanami whispers in agreement with a steady nod of his head, eyes doting on every aspect of your facial expression.

The man was so in love and his poured out of his every gaze, brown eyes lingering on your lips long enough to silently tell you what he wanted. So, your hand steadily undoes the first button on his shirt, moving your other hand from his neck to assist yourself.

Your eyes on his the entire time, you unbutton at least four buttons before taking a finger and grazing his bare chest, watching how his breathing stutters from something so light.

Smiling, "This, Kento..." Your voice is small in a sultry whisper as you drag your finger down and down until you pass his torso and reach the hem of his pants, "This makes you, weak?" You as tauntingly just before you begin unbuckling his belt.

His heart rate quickens and he swallows loud enough for you to hear, sighing as his head weighs to the side a little, "Hahh, yes, my love," Nanami tells you, face inclining down to your own.

Your gaze and his meet and the eye contact is heavy with tension, your fingers working his belt loose before you're teasing him by just barely unbuttoning his pants and making sure your fingers caress the area below his abdomen.

Nanami's lips twitch and so badly does he want to kiss you but he's too busy hanging off the slow words leaving your lips.

"Who would've thought?" You utter, smiling at your husband, "A serious man like you crumbling to your wife's small touches."

He tilts his head further and his lips are practically on yours as he speaks, "Small or not... they're touches from my wife." He emphasises just before giving you but a small peck on the lips.

You hum, "I suppose."

And then you're finally kissing him, lips molding into one another and his body melting to the feel of you. Oh how Nanami loves the way your lips part for his tongue to push through, the way you kiss him back with just as much passion as he approaches you with, and how warm and savory the inside of your mouth is.

Soft smacks emit from the two of your lips sliding over one another, your husband nipping at your lower lip and quick to kiss you like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Then his hands are grabbing a firm hold of your waist, silently telling you that you're his to hold and touch however he feels.

His fingers, large, veiny, and thick, feel you through the fabric of your top, unable to pry off of you once he's got you in his grasp.

Then, into your mouth so very lowly, h's grunting, "Undress me," Nanami orders as he slightly steps forward with you.

You step back accordingly and your hands are flying back up, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and feeling him up afterward as you start slipping the item off of his body.

"Like this? Hm?" You whisper back to him as his shirt hangs off of him, his hands gripping onto you tighter and tighter whilst he walks you backward and out of the kitchen.

His voice makes your knees weak as his mouth detaches from yours and drops to your neck while you move to finally get his slacks off, "Yes, like that. Good girl," Nanami praises against your neck, soft but hot kisses making you gasp.

With your voice all breathy and your feet and hands stumbling with the large eager man before you, "C'mon Ken, at least make it to the bedroom," You murmur, his pants loose on his hips as he bulge brushes against your front.

"I'm trying." He groans, breath simmering into the crook of your neck before his tongue is felt against you.

You can't help but giggle, "You're trying?"

"Yes," He huffs out, voice hinted with this tune you rarely hear from him too often.

You're walking back and back until you bump into a wall for a second, your bedroom door now to your right as Nanami marks up your neck messily. Then you snicker, "Mmmh, I like you like this, Kento," You comment, to which he sighs.

Then he's off your neck and moving you to walk backward into your bedroom, clearly no longer patient.

Cocking his head to the side, "Like what?" Nanami asks curiously.

You shrug and the back of your legs hit the front of your bed, "Desperate, almost," You hum, brows furrowing a bit.

Nanami helps you settle yourself onto the mattress completely before he's crawling on top of you, shrugging his shirt completely off of his body and revealing his full chiseled physique to you.

"Starved?" He asks, trying to find the word you were looking for.

You shake your head and then it comes to you, your arms wrapping around his neck and tugging him down to you before you whisper, "Craving."

Nanami gazes at you for a long moment, simply taking you in before nodding his head slowly, "Craving, yes." He agrees.

Then, another long press of his lips to yours is made and your legs are adjusted to wrap around his waist, Nanami wanting any and all parts of you on him now.

His lips shift to the left a little and he kisses the side of your mouth, then your cheek, and then he drops to your neck again, making you do nothing more than smile as his hands work to get your clothes off of you.

Your top is soon removed, bottoms followed soon after, all of which is discarded to the floor somewhere before Nanami's kissing you again and forcing your hands to be on him.

"Run your fingers through my hair," He murmurs, directing one of your hands to his blonde locks of hair. Then, he takes the other hand and moves it to wrap around his neck, "Scratch my back while I fuck you," Nanami whispers, works making your breathing unsteady while he suddenly grinds his hard cock down into you, "Try pushing me away when it becomes too much, I don't care, just want your hands on me, okay?"

His directions had you hot all over, pupils dilated already, breathing heavy from his constant kisses, and your hands quick to run along his tensed skin before you nod with an obedient, "Yes sir." Leaving you.

Nanami just barely smiles and you feel his heavy cock twitch against you, "What'd I tell you about that?"

"I don't remember," You whipser, your fingers slipping down from his hair to caress his jawline and then pulling his face closer to your own, "Remind me, sir."

There's a smile on his face as his lips finally near your own again, "You'll be the death of me one day." Nanami utters to you lovingly.

And maybe one day you will.

But tonight?

Tonight you are nothing more than a hole for him to fill as he soon grunts into your ear telling you how good your cunt feels around him, telling you how pretty you look taking his cock, and moaning out how much he loves the way you touch him.

★ Choso Kamo

You always knew he was sensitive to your touch. Look at him. No, literally, look at the man. He's not sensitive to everything but your touch is most definitely his weakness.

You once gave the man nothing more than a handjob and he was cumming all over the damn place. You're not sure if you've ever seen your boyfriend so... whiney.

Choso had his legs spread like a slut for you as you sat oh so prettily beside him, fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking him torturously slow. Your thumb would caress his bulging veins, fingers would twirl around his fat tip, tap and slip in between the slit of his cock, teasing him.

And since you were sitting beside him, your breasts would graze the side of his arm, making him flinch over and over. You had him so tense, so sweaty, so loud.

Choso didn't even know he could moan this much just from someone's hand. He's jerked himself off plenty of times but when you do it, it's like blood rushes to both his head and his cock, his vision would blur, and his breathing would grow unsteady.

Maybe it's because of how you had teased him beforehand, running your manicured nails along his inner thigh as the two of you tried to watch a movie together. Only for your hand to accidentally graze his dick, somehow groping him through his clothing and then turning to look at him.

That was when he began to sweat buckets, cock springing up under your palm at one measly little touch and his breath hitching.

Then he was whispering a gruff little, "Baby," Making you smile as you did nothing but innocently bat your lashes at him. To which he'd tip his head back against the couch and swallow, "Stop teasin'..."

You then scooted closer to him, your thigh touching his as your voice neared his ear, "I barely even touched you, Cho," You had whispered, watching how even in the dim lighting, his face grew red and he struggled to keep his composure.

Turning his head to you, Choso was quick to meet your eyes with a low and desperate gaze, lids dimming, brows tensing, and breathing heavy. "Then touch me more, please." He requested quietly, deep voice making your cunt jump with excitement.

You quickly switched hands so that you could turn your torso to him, which was when your breast pressed into his arm and your hand then moved to work his cock out.

And yes, in minutes he was cumming in your hand, making such an embarrassing mess of your fingers. Your hand was so soft, jerking his twitching cock off so perfectly.

Choso was groaning into the air like he couldn't control it, "H-Hahh, aagh, baby-, baby fuck, y-your ha-hahh, hand-," His voice... squeaks? as he says that last word, pitching so deliciously that you have to squeeze your thighs together as you watch him tense up yet again, "S-Shit, m'gonna cum again," Choso breathed out through gritted teeth.

He was so sexy all sensitive and tense for you, making you smile as you watched his face twist up and his eyes flicker every time you focused your palm on his tip.

"Again, Cho? You're makin' such a mess, baby," You coo softly, breath just barely hitting his ear and adding on to the numerous things he was feeling.

His head was spinning at this point and he couldn't stop himself from watching your, much smaller, hand jerk him off, from quick pulls and tugs to slow drags and caresses, to twisting and rolling-- Choso was both in a daze and high off of watching you stroke his aching cock.

God damn you knew how to use your hand. You knew where he was sensitive, knew what to do and how to do it.

His cock was wet with cum and your hand just slide up and down and up and down, the sloppy sound filling the entire space and adding onto his arousal. Cum was slipping in between your fingers, all down to his balls-- shit, he really did make a mess.

It was nasty but... he liked it that way.

"P-Princess, fuuck, please," His voice was cracking, breaking because of you, eyes tearing up as your hand only got faster and faster, "Fuck fuck, please d-don't stop." He pants out, head flying back against the couch as his thighs closed and opened, almost like he wanted it all to end and yet continue at the same time.

Watching him had your body hot, there was a pulse coming from in between your legs and you had half the urge to get down on your knees and just suck him off since he was being so damn whiney.

But at the same time, you couldn't stop your hand. Not when he was about to cum again, not when you were about to drag the sound you were looking for out of him.

"Y'like that, Cho?" Such a simple question you murmured to him and yet it broke him.

Nodding all needily and fucked out, "Yes baby, yesyesyes," He gasps, abs tensing as your hand just would stop. You wouldn't let up on him for even a second and it was killing him, "F-Fuck I like it s'much-, I like you- love you," He corrects, struggling and stumbling over all his words, "Love your fuckin' hand-"

His jaw drops and the groan that leaves him comes from deep within his throat, "Ohmygoddd, fuck," Oh he was babbling for you, thoughts whirling, voice cracking and high pitched with you.

Then his lips quivered and that's when that noice came out. Such a cute, whiney, and filthily obscene whimper slipped out of his mouth, eyes at the back of his damn skull as he came all over your hand again.

And you had the nerve to talk him through it, whispering sweet, "That's it baby," To him and making him pant and his breathing stutter, your hand still going.

Choso couldn't formulate proper sentences with you anymore, barely chanting an almost silent I love you over and over until your hand stopped and his dick finally calmed down.

★ Ino Takuma

Is this even surprising?

Of course your cute boyfriend Ino is sensitive and affectionate starved. Sometimes he tries to act like your touch doesn't faze him but the very second it leaves him, he's giving you these doe-eyes and moving to put your hand back on him.

And it's just perfect for him that you enjoy touching him a lot. You're almost always hugging him or grabbing his face to pull him in for a kiss and he loves it.

So whenever you're away for a few hours, his body aches for you. You'd have your nails done too so that was something he enjoyed feeling more than ever, loving how your fingernails would run through his hair as he laid on your thighs or even in between them, face stuffed into your cunt.

Either way, Ino loved your touches and yes he craves it when you're not around.

So whenever the two of you do meet up, you're always running up to him, throwing your arms up and around his neck, laughing and smiling about how much you missed him.

Then you'd always tug that beanie off of his head, telling him how much you enjoy it when his hair is out and teasing him about looking silly with the accessory on.

He'd shrug off your comment and then as soon as you turn away from him, his arms are draping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder and crotch pressing into your ass.

Your body would freeze in place as you feel something familiarly hard poking at your ass, turning your head to your boyfriend who you've barely even touched so far and raising a brow at him, "Takuma..." You'd utter softly, earning a grin from him.

"Hm? Somethin' wrong?" He'd ask casually, as if there's not a painful boner in his pants all because you'd hugged him.

"You tell me," You tease, moving out of his hold and turning your body around to face your boyfriend as you cross your arms.

He quickly raises a hand to the back of his neck to scratch, chuckling nervously, "I'm not sure what y'want me to say?" He hums plauyfully.

You tilt your head and him and sigh before moving to point at his crotch, "How about you start with explaining that."

Ino's head drops to look at where you're pointing to, laughing as soon as he sees himself, "Oh, that. Yeah, no, that's uh, that's nothing, really-," His head lifts and you've gotten all close to him again, head angled upward slightly to meet his gaze and your stare making him swallow all his words down with a loud gulp.

Your hand then moves in almost slow motion and you place but a single finger to his chin, tipping his face down some more to get a good look at him and then smiling. "Y'know you can ask me to help you, right? I am your girlfriend, remember?" You whisper.

He starts nodding like he's hanging off of your words, eyes set on your lips and his breathing picked up just because you've got a finger on his chin. "M-Mhm, I uh," He blinks a few times to gather himself, "I know."

You smile and step even closer, your body just barely touching his, "Takuma," You whisper yet again, causing a shiver to slip down his spine.

He was so nervous because of you, "Lover," He hums back.

A chuckle slips past you, "Lover? That's cute."

"Y'like that one? I've been brainstormin' pet names recently," Ino tells you happily, his voice soft with you due to the lack of distance between you and him.

"Yeah, that one's cute," You whisper as your lips near his, "But uh, we're not just gonna skip past this," You emphasize as your hand palms at his erection, making his breath hitch.

Ino's brows tense and so does the rest of his body, "Y'gonna take care of it, baby?" He whispers to you, eyes softening at you as you peer up at him so tentatively.

"You want me to?" You utter back, batting your eyes at him and feeling on his cock through his clothing.

"Yeah," Ino nods out, to which you give him this look and he swallows, quick to correct himself, "Yes... please."

Smiling, "How do you want me to take care of it, hm? On my knees? With my hand?"

Ino barely knows how to even answer your question, it always makes him nervous when you take the lead, not that it doesn't happen often but most times anything sexual between you two just occurs mutually.

There's not always someone in the lead and it's usually just the two of you trying to make the other feel good. Which is enjoyable of course but when you're like this? Asking him what he wants and yet telling him what you're going to do through your gaze?

Oh he's almost the one on his knees for you.

Which is how you ended up later sitting behind your boyfriend, head peering over his shoulder and arms wrapped around him so that your pretty hands could work up and down his cock.

He hardly remembers how he got into this position with you or what he said for you to even want to do this but, here he was; face red, moans pouring out, hips bucking up into your touch, eyes lidded and struggling to keep up with watching the way your two hands groped and jerked at his cock perfectly.

Your fingers and his dick glistened with spit and precum, the sounds of you giving him the best handjob he could ever have asked for loud throughout the room.

"Oh baby," Ino whines out, eyes nearly shut as he tries his hardest not to squirm too much, "That feels so fuckin' good, holy shit."

"Yeah?" You smile, "My hands feel good?" The taunting behind your words made his cock throb in your hands, slim veins bulging against your palms and making you snicker.

Ino nods his head needly, "M-Mhmm, fuck-," He gasps, voice lagging behind as he tries his best to answer you properly.

You start kissing the side of his neck and he swears his head is spinning. He doesn't even know what to focus on at this point. Your hands on his cock? Your lips on the side of his neck? Your breasts pressed into his back?

It was all too much for him, making his knees bend just for his legs to extend out seconds later, his mouth just open with moans of your name and not-so-silent whines slipping out. Did he want it to go on forever or stop as soon as possible?

Fuck, and then there was you heavy breathing against him, almost as if you were aroused by this too-

Holy shit you were. You were probably soaked just because you're busy getting your boyfriend off using those pretty hands of yours. Ino's on cloud nine just thinking about how wet your cunt probably is, his moans getting louder and louder as second pass.

Up until he can't take it anymore and he moans your name, "B-Baby, fuck, needa' feel you, please."

"Hm?" You giggle softly, though it's noticeably more breathy than usual, "You are feelin' me though?" You point out as your hands tighten around his cock.

Ino's head rests back a bit and he pants, babbling out his desperations more clearly for you, "No baby, your pussy, come put it on me, please." He huffs out.

You cunt twitches at his words and you whisper his name, "Takuma...."

"Please?" Your boyfriend begs, gulping afterward to catch his breath for a moment, "J-Just... oh fuck, let me feel you, taste you, fuck you, anything baby, please?"

"Shit, okay, okay," Is the last thing you say before you too folded under pressure and moved.

Then you were on top of him, his eyes glossy as he watched you above him. Neither of you are sure which was more stimulating, you jerking him off or what you're doing now.

Which was rubbing nothing more than his tip against your slick hole, dragging him back and forth and back and forth in between your sopping folds. His tip was glazed in your arousal and his own, both of you moaning softly at the tease of it all.

It was somehow almost better than sex itself. You liked teasing him like this and he loved being teased. Ino was in a daze, trying his hardest not to cum at the sight of you forcing his needy cock against your pussy.

Your cunt looked so fucking delicious, so wet, so warm, he wanted to be inside you so bad and that's what was arousing him right now-- the temptation to just thrust his hips up into you and finally sink his inches deep inside you.

There was a light wet and sloppy sound that followed your languid movements, his cock slipping inside of you every now and then and making you practically start drooling for it.

It was taking everything in you not to just plop down and start bouncing on his cock like you normally would but when you looked at Ino's face and saw him panting and quietly whimpering-- you knew he was about to cum and you didn't want to stop.

Rocking your pussy over his tip over and over and over and over again until he was struggling to gasp for air, hissing out a cry of your name over and over, trying to warn you.

But instead of stopping, you whine, "C'mon, cum f'me," And then he is, and his cock is leaking in cum before he can even comprehend it, never realizing how sensitive his body was to you until now.

You always kinda knew he was sensitive and sure, you rubbing his cock against your pussy was pleasurable but it really surprised you how much he came from the action.

Smirking as he comes down from his high, you then lean to him and kiss him before whispering, "Good boy," To which his jaw drops a bit and you're angling his cock to slip inside you, "Now, hurry up 'nd please your girlfriend," You huff out.

And he's nodding without a second thought, "Yes ma'am-, fuck, whatever you want, pretty girl."

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

[notjustjavierpena]

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

.

.

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[feral4daryl]

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

[louebel]

[ " 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆! " ] — 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): luffy, robin, law, sanji, kidd × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: not proofread 'n quick, lots of fluff! they are all babies. (i KNOW kidd's crew raid fashion stores and complain about them if they're lackin. if. if there's a fic like that pls share in the comments. i BEG you.) also some swearing with kidd!! dripping divider by @ benkeibear like always,, i live for these dividers damn.

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

"you too!!"

you swear his smile widens so much his face is stuck that way.

he is adorable. he smiles every day but hearing you say that? it's exactly what he wants!! he wants people to look at him smiling AND wants them smiling in the process (continuous cycle,,)

it's so easy to notice just how much he loves you saying that. round cheeks tinted pink, eyes shut, and set of teeth shared to the world. he is always so animated with everything he does, and this is no exception.

this little rubber man is immediately engulfing you in his arms!! you are not allowed to leave until he says so.

"i'm gonna make you smile too! forever! that way, we'll both look cute when we smile! shishishi!"

scratch protecting him at all costs. he's gonna protect you at all costs.

if you tell him again, grab his cheeks and shake him as if he were a pupper. if he had a tail it'd be wagging 'till he flies. will probably make all types of noises while you do it.

pat the boi.

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

her smile might be tender but she's giggling internally,, she's flattered!!

"is that so? i'm glad to hear that."

robin gained confidence growing up and she knew she was a gorgeous woman — but hearing it from your lips is still a surprise. sure, she gets compliments on the daily, especially by sanji, but... yours felt much more intimate. she's not blushing because she's flustered or anything, it's just because she loves you. and that comforting warmth in her chest propagated to her neck and face.

it's small moments such as this that remind her of saul's words. each day on the sunny is a reminder, but the little things reinforce those feelings. it was such a wonderful sentiment.

you had no idea what she was thinking about, but the way the corners of her lips eased, your heart jumped too.

she really did look cute while smiling.

"you look pretty, too. smile more often, dear."

she's so lucky to have you. and you're so lucky to have her.

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃. 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐖

dies

you think he looks... cute?

his eyes widen and he just. stops functioning for a moment. his heart feels lighter and funnier than normal, and his smile returns, a bit more timid than before.

"... really?"

"of course!"

he doesn't even believe it— he did notice from time to time how you suddenly just,, softened when he did it but he didn't think you'd like it that much. he doesn't smile a lot, sure there are definitely various moments where he feels at peace with the crew, but they come easier with you

when he showed you his coin collection, when you both took a stroll or when you simply cuddled. law might look scary to those outside — but inside, he is still the small boy whose curiosity shined above all. he is very fond of those he cares about, even if he has trouble expressing his emotions and thoughts to others. the confidence he wore doubled for you and his loyal crewmates, but he deserved rest every once in a while. years of trauma dulled him, however, when he felt something, it was strong; almost as if breaking out of a cage. he kept them deep inside, only to burst and even tremble when he was pampered. he didn't know how to react, and only with time would he grow used to it.

so,, please be patient and take care of him,, he looks after himself with everything else, but he's a lost puppy with love and physical affection. if it doesn't show on his face, his heart definitely speeds up at every small thing you tell him, casual or not.

"thank you."

you see him smile a bit more now. give him any type of compliment, affection, or anything,, and the "cold" surgeon of death will be nothing but putty in your hands.

"and... you too."

he really does love you.

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

dies 2.0

"o- oh... my love! you look adorable smiling, too!"

never-ending swarm of compliments. oh and he's hugging you as if his life depends on it.

he's not really used to the sweet words and might think he's undeserving of them. sure, it's a simple smile... but that's exactly why it gets him so much. something so mundane and common yet you see a unique beauty in his and his alone. others can warm your heart too, but he does it in a different way — in a special way.

if you tell him this in the middle of the night and you're both having a calm and peaceful moment he might cry. (if it's daytime and he's feeling a lil sensitive it's tears of joy mixed with laughter,, please hold him)

he's so happy. he'll smile as much as you want him too. if that gets you to do so too, it's a win-win for everyone!

it's usually clear when he feels affectionate,, he is most of the time. but now it DOUBLES. that comment made his day.

he's so giddy and adorable.

"you light my world up, mon rayon de soleil. if i can do so too with a simple smile... then i shall every day."

𝐄𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐃

mf's smile never dropped so fast.

"the fuck do you mean CUTE??"

was about to throw a fit but then he just. stares at you. so genuine...

"why you lookin' at me like that?? stop. 'm not fuckin' cute."

staaaare...

"... zero point one percent cute. happy? now stop looking like a goddamn puppy."

but you end up smiling even more. and no matter what he thought, his heart still beat a little faster. you looked pretty cute, too.

yes. he's a bit mean sometimes but you know he means well. he's your little man. like, he made you a tiny metal butterfly once so that even if he was busy with designing and crafting you had something to remind you of him. (he sputtered profanities and became as red as his hair before storming off walking in a wall but he still peeked from a corner to see if you liked it. when he saw your pleased expression, he smirked like the lil shit he is.)

plus... deep inside, he appreciated it. you and killer always managed to calm him down.

he truly is grateful.

"urgh. c'mere. let's go get killer 'n the others to raid a store."

...

bonus after the raid: he does your makeup and uses a great lipstick he stole found to really make you pop with the looted new clothes he got for you. hyped you up and grinned like an idiot. he's doing your nails next. killer gave you a thumbs up before finding more products himself,, raiding stores sure is fun!

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”