#idk if i need to tag this he's just Locked In...

[rogue-durin-16]

MIDSUMMER LOVE

Summary: in which George Luz spends no less than five summers swooning over the lovely girl living next door.

Request: Hi rogue!! Idk if you still use the prompts you have listed but if so, may I request prompt 37 (“I’ve actually practiced this.” “Asking me out?” “Yes.”) with Luz? Can it be fluffy too?

Pairing: George Luz x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny @ecompstolemysoul @torchbearerkyle @easily-obsessed-with-things @fromjupitertocentauri @luvrottt @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: smoking

A/N: I had to MILDLY edit the prompt for it to fit into the dialogue more naturally but it's still there. God this is such a change from what I've been writing these past months, kind of a breath of fresh air ngl. I wrote this listening to Forever by Noah Kahan, letting y'all know just in case you wanna get in the mood Hope you enjoy it <3

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Late June, 1941

The racket going outside wasn't exactly characteristic of a Saturday afternoon. Doors slamming, voices shouting, something heavy thudding against the wooden planks of a porch. I sat up from the couch, craning my neck toward the window just as my mother called out from the kitchen.

"George! Os vizinhos chegaram!" She wiped her hands on her apron, walking out the kitchen and into the living room. "Vai lá fora e pergunta se precisam de ajuda." She commanded, nodding at our front door.

Knowing better than to complain, I dragged myself off the couch and toward the front door. "Sim, mãe." I muttered, poorly slipping into my shoes in order not to step barefoot onto our porch.

I squinted at the house on our right. Their small front yard was cluttered with mismatched furniture. A man stood halfway in the back of a Ford truck, tugging at what looked like a lamp and getting nowhere with it. A woman—maybe his wife—was pointing toward the porch, yelling something I couldn't make out.

I looked back into our house, only to be met by my mother's quiet gestures for me to go over. "Jesus Christ." I cleared my throat, and walked over to lean on the fence separating our properties. "Hey! You folks need any he—"

I didn't finish the sentence.

The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen stepped out of the house, wearing a sundress that fluttered around her knees and a bandana holding her locks out of her face. She moved across the porch with a kind of rhythm that made everything else slow down. A box balanced on her hip, a notebook tucked under one arm.

Her landed on me, bright and curious, and I just gaped like an idiot. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what the hell to say.

So I laughed—awkward and breathy—and gave a small wave. Hopefully, that would be enough to salvage whatever dignity I wished to have. She squinted at me for half a second, then smiled.

God help me.

She walked down her porch steps and stopped at the fence, right across from where I stood. The box was carefully dropped by her side with a strained sigh before she spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey," I managed. Barely. She blinked at me, half expectant, half amused. "Morning,"

"You mean afternoon."

"What?"

"You said morning," she repeated, letting out a soft chuckle. "It's..." she checked her wristwatch and snorted. "nearly four in the afternoon."

Jesus, was she laughing at me? Did I care?

"Shit, right. Welcome—" My voice cracked. I coughed and cleared my throat. "—welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks." Her smile tilted further into amusement. "You always stare at people like that?"

"Only when they drop outta the sky."

She laughed, loud and honest, and it felt like sunlight cracked through my ribs. "I'm Y/n. Y/l/n." She held out her hand over the fence.

I stared at it for half a second too long before I wiped my palm on my shorts and took it. How much of a fool could I make of myself in a couple of minutes? "George Luz," I said, my voice a bit steadier this time. "I live next door." I added, pointing behind me with my left hand.

"No shit." She commented with a tinge of harmless sarcasm. Her grip was firm and confident. Not the dainty kind of handshake my ma always said was proper. "Well, Luz-next-door, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I gave her a wide grin. "You need help with anything?"

She tilted her head, musing the offer. "Think you can help me carry in a record player that weighs as much as a small car?"

"I've lifted worse," I half lied, already walking around the fence to enter her yard. "But only 'cause Ma makes me take out the trash every Thursday."

She let out another of those easy laughs. "You're funny. I like that."

And just like that, I knew I was screwed.

Mid July, 1942

I kicked the gravel off my boots as I came up the walk, shirt sticking to my back and fingers sore from hauling boxes at the pier. The sun was still high enough to worsen the sweat clinging to my temples on the way home, but the breeze smelled like midsummer and cut grass, and I figured I could live with that.

I had a foot on the porch's steps when I spotted Y/n, laid out on a blanket thrown over their patch of grass, book splayed open across her stomach, the shade of the tree dancing across her face. She looked like something out of a Sunday picture show—if picture shows had chipped nail polish and unruly hair tied up in a red scarf.

As if feeling my stare, one of her eyes cracked open at me, a barely contained smile twisting the corner of her lips. She marked her page with a lazy finger and sat up, brushing grass off her skirt.

"Hey, working man." she called with a grin, rising to her feet in order to wander to the fence, the book held with both hands behind her back.

"Don't tell me you've been out here reading all day while the rest of us slave away." I tossed back, tucking my hands into my pockets.

She squinted at me through the sun, both arms slung over the wood between us. "Someone's gotta preserve the nation's intellect while you lift boxes."

I puffed out a chuckle and walked over until I stood on my side of the fence, a couple feet from where she leaned. "And here I thought you were just too lazy to get a real job."

"I have a real job." she replied, faking offense, swinging idly the book to hit my arm with it. "I babysit the Terrell twins twice a week. That's worth a war medal, minimum."

I was about to quip back when I remembered what had been the hot topic at the pier. My smile fell and the quiet between us stretched for a beat. She didn't fill it with a joke—just tilted her head, waiting.

“I think I'm gonna enlist." I announced, voice a little rougher than intended.

Her brows pulled together, fingers tightening on the wood. She kept her heavy gaze on me, chin resting on her forearm like she knew the rhythm of the conversation before it even started.

"It's getting ugly," I went on, squinting at a point just past her shoulder. Maybe if I didn't look directly at her, voicing my thoughts would be easier. "And I don't wanna wait around just to get drafted."

She gave me a slow nod, like she understood everything I wasn't saying and chose not to press.

"I heard about this Airborne thing. Mendonça—he's got a cousin—says it's an elite division or something." I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my forearm. Anything to keep me from staying still. "They pay fifty dollars a month more."

"Gonna aim for that one?" she finally asked, voice quiet but steady.

I scratched the back of my ear, then dug a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it with a flick of my lighter. The smoke gave me something to focus on for a second.

"If I gotta fight," I started, exhaling, "better fight with the best, right?"

She hummed softly, eyes tracing the line of smoke curling into the sky. Her face remained the same, feigning boredom perfectly—except for the slightest glimpse of worry, delicate and tight, settling behind her eyes.

Neither of us said much after that. Just stood there in the yellow haze of summer, pretending nothing had changed when we both knew it had.

Late August, 1943

The battered porch creaked under my shoes as I leaned against the railing, half a cigarette hanging from my lips, another two snug in my pocket as backup. Inside the house, it sounded like a damn circus. Ma had made a whole spread like I was home for good, and not just on borrowed time.

Pa's booming shouts in Portuguese at the poor soul who tried to sneak another slice of roast snuck out the window and into the starlit night. I smiled around the cigarette, exhaling slow, the smoke curling into the muggy summer air.

A pair of heels clicking on the sidewalk attracted my attention like a moth to a flame. Sure enough, there she went, walking down, arms folded loosely in front of her, the hem of her dress swaying just enough to make my heart lurch a little. The streetlight caught in her hair—it seemed longer than I remembered—, and made it gleam just a little. She might as well have been an angel pulled straight from a dream.

I cupped my hand around my mouth and called, "Where's a dame like you coming from at these hours?!"

She stopped dead in her tracks, turned toward my voice. It took her a second to find me under the shadows of the roof, with only the amber tip of the cigarette as beacon.

And then she smiled.

"You're back!" she said, with enough excitement to make my stomach flip.

"Sure am." I tapped the ash off the end of the smoke. "Ma put up enough food to feed a platoon."

"And I was not invited?" she took a hand to her chest with a gasp.

"I went knocking on your door. Your folks said you were away."

"Benny from down the street took me to the movies." she informed me, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

I squinted. "And Benny from down the street didn't walk you home?"

"Nope."

I clicked my tongue and took a drag. "Does he not know how to treat a lady?"

"He's a bore." Y/n stated, waving a dismissive hand at me. "I walked him home." She strolled into the yard and stopped just in front of the porch. "Didn't want the boy thinking he was getting a kiss at the doorway." She tilted her chin up to meet my eyes, fixed on her from above. I leaned in, resting my upper body on the railing to be closer to her.

"Poor Benny," I mockingly pouted. "Didn't even know he'd been demoted mid-date from neighbor to bore."

She breathed out a laugh and reached to hold onto the railing, her pinky finger nearly brushing my thumb.

"You look good, Luz." she whispered, soft and genuine.

I pulled the cigarette from my lips and dropped it into the dirt below. "Don't I always?"

She rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. "When'd you get back?"

"This morning. Dropped right into chaos." I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. "You know 'em. Dot refusing to let go of my arm, Ma crying into the roast beef, Pa fussing over the uniform."

Y/n's pinky tapped my thumb. "They're shipping you out, then?"

"Yeah, in a few days." I swung my foot between the posts distractedly. "Gonna miss my mom's cooking."

Her gaze flicked up to mine, tentative. Maybe shy. "Gonna miss other things?"

I shrugged, a little slower this time. "Maybe."

We stood in the lull—cicadas buzzing, the muffled laughter from inside, and that quiet we never dared to break.

"You gonna write to me?" I asked, unsure about wanting to know the answer.

She looked away for a second. Then back up at me. "Dunno. Are you gonna come back?"

Just a joke. Just a joke, right?

"I'll try." I promised.

"Then maybe I'll try too."

I looked at her a long moment, trying to memorize her face, the exact way her lips twitched when she tried not to smile, the way her dress clung to the soft summer breeze.

"Take care of yourself out there, George."

I gave her a half-smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Her hand left the railing to cling to my shirt, tugging me further down. My heart skipped a beat when she stood on her tiptoes, her lips pressing a kiss right by the corner of my mouth.

She didn't say anything else—didn't even look at me—, just backed away with flushed cheeks in her house's direction.

Early September, 1944

I was mid joke when the mail came. a cigarette hanging from my lips, another one tucked behind my ear as I tried to lift up the company's spirits in yet another gray English morning. Those damn powdered eggs and the smell in the barn turned mess hall weren't doing us any favors, but maybe the jokes would. The letters from home helped, too.

Yeah, the envelope dropped by my tray with my name written in Y/n's handwriting definitely helped.

The familiar perfume clung to the piece of paper made me stall a beat too long after opening it. Long enough for Skip to snatch it off my hands.

"What's this?"

"Give it back."

"Luz has a girl writing him love letters?" he said, leaning away from me with a wicked grin. "What's the world coming to?"

"Jesus Christ, Skip—"

“Let's see—'Dear George'—" he started in a mocking voice.

I grabbed it out of his hands so fast his coffee sloshed. "Mind your business for a minute." I made sure to smack the back of his neck as I swung my leg across the wood bench. "Running your mouth like you don't got Faye's letters under your pillow." I tsked my tongue at him before walking out of the mess hall with the letter in one hand an the envelope in the other.

«Dear George,

Don't faint—I finally found time to write back.

It’s been hot as hell here. I hope the weather is better in Europe. I've been helping your Ma, so there's always something that—she claims—needs doing. I think if I mop that kitchen one more time I might go mad.

Your sister Victoria's got herself a fella now. From Providence. Drives a truck and wears too much cologne. Your Ma says he's "inoffensive", which is the Luz family seal of approval, I guess.

I read about Normandy in the papers. Bobby—Nadia's brother—he died in the landings. Nadia said they told her he didn't make it past the beach. Nearly half the boys from the neighborhood are gone. No one wants to talk about it.

I check the papers for your name all the time. Pa thinks I'm in love or something. I told him I'm just nosey. I didn't tell him I miss you more than I thought I would.

Please come back, preferably in one piece.

Yours, Y/n»

Yours. God, I wish.

I carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope to tuck it into my breast pocket. Tapped it twice.

I tossed the burnt cigarette to the gravel, let a new one and went back to the boys trying to ignore the way my heartbeat thrummed in my chest.

Late September, 1945

READER'S P. O. V.

The hem of my skirt was clinging to my calves with the late summer heat, and the iron in my hand let out an impatient hiss every time I paused to yank at the wrinkled sheet beneath it. I could hear my ma somewhere over the living room, probably trying to keep herself busy.

Then, a knock came. It wasn't rushed. Just firm. One—two—pause. Three.

"Ma!" I called out, trying not to burn my fingers. "Can you get that?"

No reply.

The knock at the door came again, quicker this time.

"Ma!"

Nothing.

I rolled my eyes, set the iron aside, and wiped my palms on the front of my skirt. The bandana keeping my hair out of my face had slipped a little with the humidity, and I pushed it back up without much thought as I made my way through the front room.

"I swear," I muttered, swinging the door open with half a huff, "if this is about selling me more—"

I stopped breathing, because George Luz stood on my front porch in full dress uniform, the same roguish slant to his grin—maybe a little duller now, a little unsure. His hair was shorter than I remembered, but his eyes hadn't changed one bit.

"Jesus—"

He gave me a mock salute, a bit too proud of himself for it to be genuine. "I came back. In one piece."

My hand trembled against the edge of the doorframe. I gripped it to keep it from showing.

He was real. He was standing right there. He was okay. I stared at him for so long he shifted on his feet, clearing his throat "You're supposed to say 'good timing, soldier'," he mocked a Hollywood-like voice. "or, y'know, fall into my arms or something."

I should've laughed. Should've followed the joke, but after going two years without seeing him—without knowing if he was alive—, the only thing I saw myself capable of doing was step forward and throw my arms around him tighter than I meant to. His cap tumbled off the back of his head and landed somewhere behind him, but he didn't seem to care. He pulled me in just as tight, chin tucked over my shoulder like he'd been carrying this hug since the day he left.

Half a minute passed, or half an hour. I wasn't counting anymore. I only let go when I felt his hands twitch at my waist. When I pulled back, my eyes burned. If George caught on it, he didn't say a word.

I reached up to adjust the bandana that had slipped again during the hug, but George beat me to it. He fixed it gently, helping me tuck in the stray strands, his hands bumping my own with our actions.

"So," he said, crouching with a complaining groan to grab the cap, "This was supposed to go differently. I had a whole line."

"A line?" I blinked at him, not quite following yet.

"Yeah. I've actually practiced it. In front of a mirror. Twice." He winced. "Felt real stupid, but y'know, sometimes a man's gotta do what he's gotta do."

I tilted my head, trying to read him. "A line for what?"

"For asking you out." He scratched at the back of his neck. "It was a real good line too. Something about the war being awful and the food being worse, and missing the summers here and hearing your voice through the fence." He nodded at the barrier between our yards. "Kind of fucked it up."

"You practiced asking me out?" I questioned, half amused, half disbelieving.

"Yes! Have you gone mad?" He snorted like I was being stupid, but I didn't miss the way the tips of his ears turned pink. "You thought I'd show up here improvising?"

"You're good at improvising."

"I wanted to be better."

I exhaled, almost a laugh, but it caught at the end and turned into something softer. "Wanna go back and practice it once more? Three time's the charm."

An almost offended laugh escaped George, his shoe pivoting to do a half turn. "Screw you."

"That's no way to talk to a lady." I joked, catching his hand with mine, still shaking slightly, when he pretended to step away. "I'm joking." George returned to me without much complaining. "Just ask, you know what the answer's gonna be."

"Do I?"

"George—"

"Go out with me." The jokester attitude fell for half a second; long enough for me to realize he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. "Please?"

"Hmm... Dunno,"

"Y/n, c'mon—"

"Yes." His warm eyes lit up, and so did my cheeks when his fingers intertwined with mine. "Let me change first."

"Wait, now?" He frowned, the open-mouthed smile not once leaving his face.

"I waited five years for you to ask me out." I tossed my bandana at his frozen form, still standing at the doorway. "I'm not waiting around."

Whatever mockery was leaving his loud mouth didn't reach the upper flight of stairs when I rushed up to my room. He'd have time to make fun of my eagerness later, and I doubted I would care. He came back to me, that's all that mattered.

[gyllenhaalstories]

HONEY, YOU'RE SWEET — JAKE GYLLENHAAL 🍯

summary: jake ran out of his beloved honey lollipops that help his throat survive long hours on stage... so you help him instead!

pairing: jake gyllenhaal x fem!reader

warnings: idk how broadway works (what you know you know, except i know nothing), smut (semi public sex, pussy eating). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3080

photos credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

tag: @jakegooglyeyes ❣️

notes: long time no see, jake rpf! i thought this was a brilliant idea at like 2 am when i was swimming in gifs of jake's latest appearance on stephen colbert's show... and here i am, posting this on the last week of the othello production. sounds like good timing to me! 💛 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"Come here, baby." His voice was a low rumble.

"You sound a little rough. Are you sure you don't want me to get you some tea?" You held the hand Jake extended in your direction.

He swiftly tugged you closer so you joined him on the couch.

You sat next to the military pants that he had draped over the back of the couch. He had just gotten out of his costume. Outside of his dressing room, you could hear the theatre winding down.

Most people had already left for the night, and Jake should be outside the stage door to greet fans, but he decided otherwise. "You're sweet, but I'm alright." Jake placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. "I got everything I need."

You shared a bit of small talk regarding the evening: how the costume department quickly fixed a piece of clothing before the curtains opened or how Jake successfully avoided to walk into the column this time. You reminded him of that one member of the audience who repeatedly gasped loud enough for the entire theatre to hear and it almost made Jake break character. Almost. He was a serious actor, he assured you with a cheeky grin.

So serious, that he cracked a few jokes while he struggled to untie his shoes. "It’s so tight." He commented with a sly wink, not so much referring to the knot of laces and more to you.

And everything escalated after that. You watched him kick his combat boots off before his hands wandered over any part of your body that he could reach. Your arms to pull you closer, your neck to angle your head for a searing kiss, your thighs to pry them open.

He bunched your shirt up over your chest, to expose all that skin that begged to be marked with kisses and bites. Jake carefully dropped to his knees, on the floor between your legs. He paused to look at you, to make sure you wanted it as much as he did.

You nodded eagerly, so he leaned closer to suck a faint mark right above the bridge of your bra. With your whimpers, you encouraged him to keep going.

Jake’s hands reached for the delicate fabric that he pulled on to release your breasts from the cups. He covered as much of your chest as he could with open-mouthed kisses, before he left a trail going south.

"Wait," Jake stopped and locked eyes with you. "What if someone walks in your dressing room?"

Jake resumed to his trail of kisses, you felt his grin on the skin of your stomach. "Don’t worry your pretty head about that. They always knock first." You could easily refute that claim with a long list of times when people barged in unannounced, but Jake left you no time to contradict him. "All you have to do is be quiet for me. Don’t want anyone else to hear just how sweet you sound…"

You relaxed on the couch, only now realizing that the price tag matched with the quality of comfort from the cushions.

Jake popped the button of your jeans, the zipper opened soon after. He helped you to remove your shoes that joined his boots somewhere under the wooden coffee table. "Lift your hips, baby." He instructed, you obliged. He got rid of your jeans in one swift motion. "Can’t help yourself, huh? You love making a mess for me." He murmured, taking in the sight of the damp spot on your panties.

Your whole body responded to the way Jake pressed his thumb against you, over the fabric. He pushed on your folds enough for you to feel the pressure directly on your clit. The soft sigh that left your parted lips let him know how much you needed him.

He played with the limits of your patience, he distracted you with a line of kisses along the waistband of your panties. Jake looked up at you, a smirk formed once more on his thin lips. "These are in my way." You lifted your hips again, allowing him to discard of your panties. "Much better."

You settled on the couch, with your legs spread wide for him. You felt so exposed, now that your shirt got pushed up and the rest of your clothes piled on the floor.

Jake loved it as much as you did, to have your body so easily accessible for him. It added to the dangerous risk of sharing this moment in the theatre rather than in the safe comfort of your own home. He peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, not leaving one side more neglected than the other. "You look so beautiful."

You let out a small moan when he pressed the lightest of kisses on your clit, his lips barely making contact.

"Yeah, you do. You look so beautiful, so ready for me." His thumb replaced his mouth. He brushed over your folds and he smeared your wetness with a low hum of approval.

Your eyes were full of admiration for the man kneeling between your thighs. Awfully long work days, aside from the effort he put into preparing his next roles… And yet he always found time for you. He made time for you, to take good care of you. Whether it was with a delicious home-cooked meal or with a bouquet of your favourite flowers delivered at your door when you could not attend yet another representation… He took care of you. And this present moment was not any different.

His breath ghosted over your core. He was so close to where you needed him most… But you flinched at a loud noise coming from the hallway. He let you calm down, so you could realize it was nothing to be worried about. "All good?" His thumb continued to caress you. "Ready for more?"

You nodded, but he remained immobile until you gave him a proper confirmation. "Y-yeah, I’m ready." You caught a glimpse of the smirk that returned to his face, before he started to work his mouth on you.

Jake spoke with his tongue rather than with words. He had been on stage for well over two hours, he rightfully deserved a break from dirty talk.

You did not mind, he was just so good with his mouth. Giving seemed synonymous with receiving for Jake when it came to eating you out. The silence made room for your soft moans and sighs, for the music that your pussy made in response to the way he swirled his tongue around your clit.

Jake’s hands pried your thighs even more open, when you attempted to close them around his head. Too early for that, he thought to himself. He wanted to take his time, but he could tell you were impatient.

You were not subtle in the slightest. You bucked your hips against his face, and Jake followed your movements.

His mouth did not leave you. Jake glanced up at you, a silent but clear warning. You could almost hear him say to just relax, in this sickeningly sweet tone of his that bordered on condescendance.

His wordless demand was met. You sunk further into the cushions of the couch rather than trying to grind on his face.

He brought his hands closer, so he could pull on the flesh of your thighs. His thumbs spread you open, then he pressed a slow kiss to your core. He could taste how badly you wanted him.

Your body responded to him immediately: your eyes fluttered close, your chest heaved and you clawed a bit at the fabric of the couch. There was no way this piece of furniture would keep its pristine condition by the time Jake would be done with you…

His tongue glided over your clit. He praised you with a moan that vibrated through you.

You brought a hand to his head, where you would usually find hair to tangle your fingers through. In the heat of the moment, you had completely forgotten about Jake’s hair — or lack thereof. Your giggle quickly turned into a moan when he gently sucked on your clit.

Jake looked up at you, both amused and pleased by your reaction. You looked so beautiful, open and vulnerable. You had forgotten about the people walking by on the other side of his decorated dressing room. You were too lost in the thrill of it all. And he could only continue to fuel your pleasure with his tongue.

You struggled with words, too. You wished you could find a way to tell Jake just how good he made you feel right now. Judging by the way his lips smiled against you, he knew that already.

His hands worked hard to prevent you from squirming too much, though he loved to feel your body as it struggled to take in the attention he lavished on your pussy. His tongue worked a little faster now, lapping at your nectar.

It was so damn hard to hold your noises in, to press your lips together rather than leaving your mouth agape for Jake to listen to the symphony of moans he pulled from you. With each kiss on your folds, each swirl around your throbbing bud, it became increasingly difficult to stick to your promise of staying as quiet as you could possibly manage.

Jake’s gaze remained locked on your face. He noticed the wrinkles on your forehead from the way you concentrated on being silent, he noticed the way your eyes fought to flutter open because he made you feel so good. For every sound you could not express out loud, Jake moaned into you. It created such a delicious, but incredibly unfair, feedback loop.

You could feel how much he savoured this moment — how much he savoured you.

He allowed you to grunt without any reprimand. Even better, he rewarded you. Jake flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, incessantly, for several seconds. He kept going until your legs trembled. Until you gave him another one of those deep, low grunts.

Your legs were not the only parts of your body that got overtaken with tremors, but your hands too. With no hair to grip on to, with nothing to keep you anchored, your hands lingered near his head almost in fear that Jake would pull away too early.

Though you both knew he would not do that. He needed this more than you did. He needed to taste your sweet juices. He needed to feel you come undone for him.

You were dripping, absolutely desperate for relief. Your hips tried to grind against his face, only this time he did stop you.

"Not yet." Jake warned you, barely pulling away for you to hear his words instead of mouthing them onto your core. His breath felt hot, so hot. This break was barely long enough to reel you back in from the edge of your orgasm. "Give me a little more, baby. Just a little more…"

Your chin trembled as well. Jake’s tongue work on your pussy had you sitting at the edge of your seat, both literally and metaphorically, as he made you wait for the curtain call.

Unfair, you’d say. Selfish, even. Jake definitely agreed, but he would twist this little game up to convince you that he was being generous. Stretching your pleasure longer, for your mutual satisfaction.

"But I’m so… So close…" You mumbled in protest. You hoped that your adorable pout would win him over.

Instead, Jake chuckled. The amused rumble vibrated against your skin. His fingers pressed deeper into the flesh of your thighs. It was another warning: to stay still, to take what he was oh so generously giving you. "I know, baby." Jake said, before resuming to those agonizingly good swirls of his tongue on your clit. He did not need you to announce your climax, he knew all the signs. He was well aware that he could not make you wait much longer.

You felt like you could start floating in the dressing room, flying through the painted scenery of Venice. You took a brief pause to brush your fingers on the contour of his ever so slightly pointed ears, to caress his shaven head and feel the warmth of his skin while his mind worked so hard to convince him not to give in to you too fast.

Jake’s eyes locked with yours again, he wished you could see just how beautiful you looked right now. He held on to that thought for another time, it would be nice to put more of that dressing room to good use. His focus drifted back to you, and back on what he had left to do to make you see twinkling stars that were not the lights of the theatre's marquee.

Your back arched off the couch when you felt his lips press a slow open-mouthed kiss directly against you. "Oh, fuck…" You dragged out each syllable until you ran out of breath.

"Shh, quiet, remember?" Jake cooed at you, when he pulled back to adjust his position. "Yeah, that’s it…" He lowered his head, dragging his flattened tongue up your slit. He repeated the action another time, then another… Until the tip of his tongue dipped inside of you.

Your eyes shut tight, but Jake watched every second of your reaction. The way your jaw dropped open to release a series of whimpers. When your eyes met his again, he could feel that it made the moment even better for you.

Jake’s tongue delved in your heat, your walls gave in for him so nicely. He set a pace, thrusting his tongue in and out of your pussy just the way you liked it. Well, the way you loved it — judging by the fact you got impossibly wetter from his tongue filling you.

Your cheeks felt hot, your entire body did too. If you were not so unbearably close to the edge, you would peel off the little clothing you had left on your body. Jake’s hot breath on you only made it worse and better all at once. Your hips moved, trying to help you to seek for more of those mind-numbing sensations. And you succeeded.

Jake’s nose bumped against your clit, combining with his tongue that fucked you just right. Thrusting, exploring, licking… Jake did his best to bring you to your orgasm and you thanked him for his efforts in the best way imaginable.

The coil in your stomach tightened as the tension built up and up and up… You covered your mouth with one hand to muffle your scream.

And Jake held your other hand to keep you right there with him, to make sure you gave him everything you had. He kept his mouth pressed on you, kept his tongue working too. Unrelenting. You fell apart before his eyes and this was the only spectacle he would never get tired of.

His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your hand, the gesture was so soft compared to the intensity of your orgasm. You held on to his hand for dear life… You were about as impressed as Jake that, despite how good he made you feel, you managed to stay quiet. Sort of… Quiet enough.

Your thighs closed around Jake’s head, adding that pressure he was so addicted to you. It was all the unspoken praise he needed to know he had done everything right. He let you have it, he let you close your thighs around him while he drank from you. Your spit and his slick created this amalgam that he could not get enough of either.

You shuddered with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Jake made sure to milk every drop out of you, to leave you drained and to leave your mind empty except for the blissful warmth of your climax. Even as you began to calm down, your body felt like it was on fire as tingles ran through you.

Jake slid his tongue back up to your clit, so he could feel it pulse in satisfaction. His lips smiled into you one more time before he pulled away for good. The sight before him was the most magnificent of all…

You looked completely shattered, as you collapsed on the luxurious couch. Your legs fell down, guided by Jake who made sure to carry you through the aftermath.

Jake peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs. He stopped a few times to lick at the drops of your essence that sprinkled your skin.

After a minute or two, you leaned forward so you could cup his face in your hands. You pulled him closer to share a tender kiss.

"I am your own forever." Jake recited a line from the play, his lips moved against yours. His voice dripped of honey and silk rather than torment and drama like when he spoke the words on stage.

"Trying something new for tomorrow’s performance?" You teased him, a subtle hint at the night when he believed it was a brilliant idea to take on a questionable Italian accent. He rolled his eyes at your playful mockery.

Jake's tongue danced with yours, sharing the taste of your pleasure that he loved so much. He sucked lightly on your bottom lip as you broke the kiss.

The sigh you let out when you fell back on the couch earned you a chuckle. "What?" You asked Jake, incredulous about the reason behind the mischievous smirk on his face.

"I didn't run out of lollipops." Jake confessed. "I hid them in the drawer." His thumb pointed in the direction of what you assumed was the actual makeup room down the hallway — not the decorative desk that only served for its aesthetic purposes. Of course, he did. He made up this excuse just to get you to give him a taste of what he craved.

It was your turn to chuckle. You should have known. Jake was adamant on two specific things in regard to his ritual before his performances: the tightness of his shoe laces so he would not send a boot flying across the audience and those miracle lollipops that did wonders for his tortured vocal chords. "Is that the Othello in you, making up evil plans to have things go your way?"

"Oh, yeah." He snickered at the stereotypical comparison. "That's a very evil thing to do."

[boobgoogler]

klavier is a project sekai addict capcom told me (truth) and I just KNOWWWW apollo picks at his lips when he's working hard on som shit... aka... afflicting klapollo with mo'isms

[mc-tummy-blur]

I’ve been so busy with other stuff but I really want to get back to drawing WHF art so I went and cleaned up a wip. Not sure how I feel with some of the angles but I just needed to get this out of my system

Based off of this clip

Click for better quality

Check my pinned post to see links on how you can help the people in Palestine

[oneroomjestershow]

HAPPY... APRIL FOOLS???

Eli couldn't make it to a date because they are having a crisis

The back of their neck itches a lil bit...

[aqualityofthought]

Did anyone else have a younger brother (or sibling ig) whom everyone was afraid of, even your parents?

[shirogane-oushirou]

trying out procreate brushes again but with more Purpose. i found a fantastic ballpoint pen, alongside some ink-based brushes that give you Sloppy Effects... which i appreciate as someone whose ballpoint drawings always ended up a smudgy mess no matter how hard i tried to avoid it ;;;

(and a colored version to play with his fursona's colors a little + see how he looks with slightly more accurate paws and proportions hehe)

[jazz-the-writer]

YAAAAAA LEEKNOW.

There’s a STORY WHATS THE STORY???? WHERE IS IT ??? WHAT IDD I MISS !!!?

Dime PINCHE CABRON. DIME CÓMO CHINGASTEs LLEGASTEIS A ESA PINCHE NOMBRE????

Look I’m a dummy Spanish speaker. No sabo speak okay??? I’m roughly fluent cause it’s a second language and I never learned proper grammar for it so I sound illiterate.

Lee know tell me how the fuck Channie got the nickname Buchou ???

Cause it’s cute as fuck and omg can I use it ???????

My bestie hasn’t watched any videos with me since SClass era idk I can’t remember anymore it’s been so long and so many comebacks \(//∇//)\

I’m missing skz so much and my bestie won’t even watch any vids with me ✌🏼🥲

[rainybraindays]

No but the obsession with Colin's theoretical sex life is crazy to me.

Like people are genuinely upset that he could have potentially had sex?? Shaming him for doing something we know hes been mocked about for not doing? Like we see Anthony accuse him of only trying to marry because hes a virgin, you all remember that right? His older brother sees him pursuing a relationship, something he would have noticed earlier if he hadn't been so single minded the entire time, and instead of offering any like useful advice immediately goes and throws that in his face.

If he wanted to have sex just so it couldn't be used against him ever again I wouldn't be surprised. If he did that's fine, and if he doesn't thats literally also fine.

Like maybe its the fact that I also see a lot of people who talk about him needing to be a virgin talk about him being nerodivergent, so it seems kinda infantlizing to me, especially mixed in with the need to portray him like hes stupid but this rubs me so wrong.

Its literally a non-issue why are some of you so hard up on this.

[crehador]

HEY?! does anyone remember that survey where people were polled on which voice actor they would want to have voice their home appliances and ishida akira was first (naturally) and i was raging that asanuma was only 7th lmao and suwabe wasn't even IN the top 10

WELL WELL WELL LOOK WHO'S AN APPLIANCE NOW

apparently suwabe is being added in december with more voice actors coming in the future? i'm. need to. see if i can get one of these things shipped overseas lol

this was the poll btw:

[jacelys]

I casually post 1 analytical reply on twitter per week, and then decided to look at the tumblr blue lock tag and this jumpscared me

[mochinomnoms]

Please share the lewd interspecies romance.

Okay so mostly I have thoughts over the Octavinelle trio, especially the twins 🫣 but i wrote a lil something for most of them! also this was not meant to be so long idk what happened

[tags] - nsfw, AFAB-implied reader, but written gender-neutral, mentions of ruts/heats, breeding, etc

nsfw under read-more, minors DNI!

If you really compare humans to the nonhuman population of Twisted Wonderland, there's are some small physiological differences between species. Fae, surprisingly, don't differ from humans all too much. Land dwellers in general don't have anything too significant, though all of nonhuman species retain aspects of their animal counterparts.

Most of Savanaclaw goes through some sort of rut/heat during various times in the year, primarily early spring and summer. There's no logical reason for them to retain that aspect of their mating cycle anymore, not for a sentient species that have skills of logic and reasoning. Unfortunately, they didn't get to choose how their evolution worked, and so they have to deal with it in anyway they can.

They get a lot more irritable, they have throbbing headaches, their abdomen hurts, and the scent of their mate is a lot more enticing than normal. Jack probably has it the worst of them, as a wolf beastmen. Not only does he have to deal with a fever-inducing rut that will put him out of commission for a week, afterwards he has to deal with the a/b/o jokes from his classmates too, oh the horror. It is really a horror though when he's able to bend you over his bed, bite marks aligned your neck and back as his dick pounds into you till his knot swells and locks you in for at least an hour. Jack's incredibly embarrassed afterwards, though he manages to be incredibly sweet even after rearranging your guts. Wolf beastmen are one of the most affectionate partners to have with a reputation providing some of the best aftercare for their species. It's most likely to make up for their week-long copulation, stretching and tiring out their sweet little mates. Ooooh, but they'll so very sweet: cleaning up the sticky mess of fluids between your legs with their tongue, careful to not overstimulate you (unless you ask), tending to the mating mark they placed on the back of your neck with soft kisses and licks, and making sure to prop your lower half up to that your chances of taking their seed increases.

Lacking the annual rut/heat that other variants of beastmen have, lion and hyena beastmen are more similar is this regard, as they don't have the same issue of long copulations as wolf beastmen. Neither will initiate sex, rather they'll rely on their mates to do so. Ruggie, in particular, is rather reluctant initiating sex, as male hyenas are typically more submissive, so if you're shy you'll have to get over it. But once you do, Ruggie is ever so happy to service you if you're happy to give him praise. Run your hands through his hair and ears as he eats you out, he'll let out the cutest whimpers and groans as you do. Just, expect to be jellyboned by the time he's done with you, as a hyena he needs to make sure his mate won't snip back at him and you can't exactly do that if your fucked out. While he may not have the same stamina as Jack for week-long fuck session, he has a particularly short refractory period and can have several short sessions in a single night.

Leona also won't typically initiate sex on his own, it happens very sporadically, and he his the image of the lazy lion. While he never wants to do anything particularly extraneous, who is he to deny you needs? You'll have to do some preparing though, as while the barbs on his dick aren't as bad as they are in his animal variant, they will hurt if you're not wet and pliable enough. Be sure to sit on his face, don't worry you won't suffocate him and it's better you cum a few times first before taking him. Unless you want it to hurt? Once you've cum enough times, you can ride him to your heart's content. He only asks that you don't mention how he rubs his head into the crook of your neck, marking you so that if everyone couldn't tell by the sounds coming from his room, they'd know you're his from his scent. Lions are quite protective with their territory and pride after all.

Merfolk have the most extreme physiological differences between them and...any land dweller really. It comes with the territory of being suited for a completely different environment. They also behave a lot more similarly to their animal counterparts, which can be both delicious and exhausting for their humans.

Moray eels don't have a set time of the year they mate, but rather the water must be warm and plenty of food must be ready to provide to their mate. When the spring time weather above the sea starts transitioning from crisp to blazing, don't be too surprised when the twins start handfeeding you meals and snacks throughout the week, they want to make sure you're happy and full for them, getting you in the mood with a sweet, dizzying underwater dance to initiate until they get the okay from you. What's that 'okay' though? You know that yawning I mentioned before? You'll get your answer from them now, as they take your open mouth yawn as an invitation rather than a sign of tiredness. Floyd, in particular, is ready to drag you into the deep part of the pool before remembering that you need to breathe somehow. Not a problem. He'll keep your pretty head above water. You'll still have trouble breathing as his long tapered tongue worms his way in your mouth. No matter, you'll be gasping for breath as he bullies this cock into your hole, large enough that you can physically feel the bump on your stomach. Morays are awfully fond of wrapping themselves around their mates, seeing as Floyd will do his best to tangle his tail around your body and squeezing you as you squeeze down his dick. He loves the physical contact between you two, and is amused how your nails try to dig into his shoulders seeing as the mucus on his skin makes it near impossible to have a steady grasp. You're completely dependent on Floyd as you drool and cry out for relief from the overstimulation, which is oh so ever exciting.

Jade is equally as cruel when it comes to mating. Unlike the others, merfolk tend to mate with the intention to, well, mate. He prefers you to be soft and pliant for him, as well as wholly depending as you two fuck. So, he'll happily brew you a water-breathing potion so he can actually drag you into the deep, where he found a secluded, warm grotto that will allow him to keep you to himself for hours, but close enough to the surface that he can continuously grab you food to eat between sessions. Not that those sessions will be short either. Like his brother, Jade is content to wrap himself around your body as he cooed honeyed words into your ears about how you'll make a wet, warm, soft hole for breeding. It's not like he'll have to do much either, his dick is prehensile and he can wrap himself around you, swiping kisses and nuzzling into the crook of your very sensitive neck while his thick cock continuously pounds into you with a bruising pace. He's so mean!! He likes seeing you cry from overstimulation too, and Jade will continuously scoot down to clean you up with his tongue, only to claim that too much of his seed was gone and he needed to fill you up again for another few hours. He's truly quite incorrigible, especially when he bites into your neck and shoulders to make his claim on you. Don't worry, most morays' bites aren't venomous, and even if they are, you have him to care for you. You're going to be depending on him in the water anyway, so there's no need to worry about it too much.

Something that neither probably won't mention, probably because they won't realize it's something you should know, is that they can change their sex under the right conditions. If you're ever so inclined in the future to test the waters out, the twins might be so generous to let you eat them out instead.

Of the trio, Azul's the only one with an established mating season, two actually: one in the late spring and the other in the early fall. Respectively, one during finals and the other during orientation. He's already so incredibly stressed, and he has the need to breed too? Downright atrocious. It's wonderful that you're so kind that he can take refuge in you and use you like a new octopot, so tell him how pretty he is and how much you love him and only him, so that you have the privilege fucking his merform. The moment you're entering the water, he'll unconsciously display mating signals by flashing soft lilacs and blues, a beautiful display of his need for you. He's rather large, even bigger than the twins, in his merform, so you'll need preparation as well; have no fear, his tentacles are wrapping and kneading the squishiest parts of you. I mentioned before that he can taste the salt on your skin and pulse through your wrist via his suckers. He can taste the slick from your walls, too, without even having to use his mouth as the suckers massage you from the inside. If you'd like, he technically could give you a full flavor profile afterward, though he'll probably be a bit mortified to do so. The biggest difference is his dick, or lack thereof. Instead of a dick, Azul has a hectocotylus, which is a modified, slightly shorter arm of his with a thicker spade-shaped tip that he can practically rearrange your guts with, with little effort on his part really. Most octo-mer variants will keep their mate at a distance, eons of instinct hard to forget. Azul's variant, though, will keep you close, almost dancing with you in a sweet, sensual twirl as he places sweet kissing and bites on your neck, arms, and chest. Octopi are, in fact, venomous, however, so you will be feeling a bit of a lustful high, paralyzed, and a bit helpless to the whims of a needy octopus. He's quite good at aftercare though, making sure you get an antidote and handfeeding you calorie-rich snacks to energize you back up (again, he's aware that you won't eat him, but instinct dictates that he keeps you full with both food and cum to make you a happy mate).

*collapses into heap on floor* thoughts....full.....ahahaha breeding kink go burrrrr. i was not meant to write this much and then it escaped me. also i hate tagging

[leriexoxo]

WET ‘n’ WILD

Pairing: Bestfriend! Chan x Reader

Tags: Smut, feelings realization, accidental voyeurism, subtle seduction, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, breeding (idk what’s wrong with me), oral

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Chan and you have always been best friends, sharing everything from inside jokes to travel plans. But when you take a trip together and end up in the same hotel room, things start to shift. After an accidental reveal in the bathroom—where Chan sees you in a way he never expected—he can’t seem to shake the image of you.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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

He didn’t knock.

Of course he didn’t knock.

You should’ve locked it—you knew that. But you were in a rush, hair wet and clinging to your back, steam curling around your shoulders as you stood beneath the spray, eyes closed, miles away from reality.

Until the door opened.

And in walked Chan.

Shirt half off. AirPods in. Whistling.

He didn’t even notice you at first.

You turned, shampoo dripping down your forehead, blinking water out of your eyes as his figure passed the mirror—and froze.

A beat.

Then another.

His head tilted.

And then you watched his jaw drop.

Because the shower was glass.

Clear. So fucking clear.

And you were completely naked.

“Oh—shit—” He yanked an AirPod out, eyes going wide like he was staring down a demon.

“Chan—!” you yelped, covering yourself too late, spinning toward the wall with a slap of skin on tile. “Get out!”

He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“I—I didn’t know you were in here—I couldn’t hear—fuck, I’m sorry!”

He slapped a hand over his eyes.

But not before you caught the way his gaze had dropped. Lingering.

“Chan!”

“I’m leaving—I’m leaving!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Your heart pounded in your throat.

His face when he saw you—not just shocked… stunned. Like he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you were anything other than his best friend. Like he’d never imagined you had curves, softness, skin like that.

Like he’d just discovered a whole new you.

And suddenly, sharing a bed tonight didn’t feel so harmless anymore.

You wrapped a towel around yourself with shaking hands, your skin still flushed—not just from the heat of the water, but from the look on his face.

That stunned, wrecked, “holy shit she’s hot” look.

You’d never seen him look at you like that.

You cracked the bathroom door open a sliver, peeking out.

He was across the room, pacing like a man on the verge of an existential crisis, hands on his head, shirt still bunched halfway up his chest, and his AirPods now clutched in a death grip.

When he saw the door move, he flinched like you were holding a gun.

“I swear I didn’t mean to!” he blurted. “I—I wasn’t looking!”

You stepped out, towel hitched high on your chest, dripping onto the carpet.

“Chan.”

His eyes did a quick flick—towel, legs, towel again—then snapped to the ceiling like it offended him personally.

“I didn’t know the shower was—was like that. I thought the glass was—was frosted or something!”

You crossed your arms. “You literally built like a Greek god but you’ve never seen a naked body before?”

He let out a strangled laugh. “Not yours, I haven’t!”

Silence.

Your heart thudded.

Not yours.

You watched the realization hit him in real time—how loud that sounded, how different it felt saying that out loud.

He looked at you then.

Actually looked.

And his gaze did something… weird. Like it didn’t know whether to apologize or worship.

You swallowed.

“Do you… need the bathroom now or?”

He blinked. “Uh—no. Nope. I’m good. I can hold it. Forever, probably.”

You turned, heading toward your suitcase, pretending your heart wasn’t jackhammering against your ribs.

Behind you, you heard him mutter to himself:

“Why is her ass like that…”

You froze. “What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Yeah. Nothing.

Except everything had changed.

You’d dried your hair in silence.

He’d scrolled his phone on the edge of the bed like it was going to save his life.

Neither of you spoke about the glass. Or your body. Or the way he stared like he’d seen a forbidden fruit and accidentally took a bite.

By the time you slipped into your sleep shirt—long, soft, just barely enough—he’d already tucked himself under the covers and pretended to scroll through TikTok, screen dimmed, thumb unmoving.

You climbed in beside him, careful not to touch.

The air was thick.

He was stiff.

In more ways than one.

Chan lay on his back, arms above his head like he was physically restraining himself. You could feel the heat rolling off him, the tension coiled in every inch of his body.

He hadn’t said a word since you turned off the light.

But he hadn’t stopped looking.

You were facing the wall, pretending to sleep, when you felt it. The tiniest brush of fabric—his shirt sleeve barely grazing your arm.

A jolt lit up your spine.

You didn’t move.

He did.

Another shuffle. His leg shifted. The bed dipped just slightly closer. His breathing hitched.

You rolled over.

He flinched like you caught him red-handed.

Your faces were close now. Just inches apart in the dark, your features soft in the moonlight through the window.

“Chan,” you whispered.

He stared at you like he was watching a horror movie and a porno at the same time.

“I’m fine,” he said too fast. “Everything’s fine. This is fine.”

Your eyes flicked down.

Oh.

There was no mistaking it now.

The very obvious, very hard outline straining against his sweats.

You raised a brow.

“Is it… uncomfortable?”

He let out the weakest, most pathetic laugh you’d ever heard.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the word,” he muttered, slapping an arm over his face. “I’m dying.”

“Because of me?”

Silence.

Then a groan.

“You can’t just look like that,” he hissed. “Like—you’ve always been hot, okay? I just didn’t realize you were built to ruin me until today.”

Your breath caught.

And you felt it—his restraint crumbling, the tension snapping like a rubber band stretched too far.

You shifted.

A little too close.

Your thigh brushed his.

His jaw locked.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked hoarsely.

You leaned in, your voice a whisper in the dark. “Doing what?”

He let out a low curse.

And then—your knee nudged his thigh. Just a little. Accidental. Maybe.

But the noise he made?

Absolutely not accidental.

Low.

Guttural.

“Don’t—don’t move like that,” he begged, voice strained. “I’m seriously one shift away from embarrassing myself.”

You bit back a smile.

Then shifted again.

This time, deliberately dragging your leg across his thigh, grazing right over the problem area.

His hand shot out and gripped your hip.

Hard.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Unless you want me to lose every last bit of control I’ve got left.”

You didn’t answer.

But you didn’t move away either.

And neither did he.

—

Chan had always thought of you as his best friend.

No complications. No weird tension. Just you.

But that was before he saw you in the shower.

Now? Every single second felt like psychological warfare.

He first noticed it in the elevator.

The way your sundress clung to your hips, the curve of your ass shifting when you leaned over to press the button. The little dip of cleavage just peeking out when you turned your head.

He swore he didn’t look.

But he did.

And once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He noticed it at brunch.

You laughed at something one of your friends said, leaning forward on your elbows. And he swore to god—the way your breasts pressed against your top? Unholy.

He had to excuse himself and splash cold water on his face.

He noticed it again at the museum.

When you bent to tie your shoe and your shirt lifted just enough to show your lower back. That tiny flash of skin was enough to send a pulse straight to his groin.

He kept trying to think of math. Taxes. His childhood trauma.

Nothing worked.

And then, of course, came nightfall.

He stood in front of the bed like it was a trap.

You crawled under the covers in that same oversized sleep shirt, brushing your hair out of your face, oblivious to the way his soul was crumbling.

“Night, Channie,” you said sweetly.

“Night,” he choked, voice cracking like a boy going through puberty again.

He lay stiffly on his side of the bed, hands folded over his chest like he was at a funeral.

Because it was a funeral.

Of his sanity.

Of his ability to think of you like a normal friend ever again.

He tried not to breathe when you shifted in your sleep.

Tried not to feel when your leg brushed his.

Tried not to imagine sliding that shirt up your thighs and finding nothing underneath.

He failed. Every time.

And still—he didn’t touch you.

But god, did he want to.

⸻

You were in a tank top now. No bra. Chan could see the outline when the air conditioning kicked in. He nearly spilled his drink trying to look away.

He avoided eye contact the entire morning.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded too fast. “Yep. Great. Fine.”

He was not fine.

He was edging. Emotionally.

You came back to the room early while he was changing.

He had just dropped his towel when you walked in with a bag of takeout and froze in the doorway.

Your eyes widened.

Chan nearly dislocated a hip trying to cover himself.

You blinked, then said, “Oh.”

Just—oh.

You turned around like it was nothing.

He, on the other hand, had to sit down for five minutes and reevaluate his existence.

Now she’s seen me too.

And the worst part?

He wanted you to look again.

⸻

The afternoon sun was unforgiving, golden and heavy as it beat down on your shoulders.

You adjusted your sunglasses, sipped your drink, and stretched out on your lounger—legs bare, back glistening, swimsuit snug in all the right places.

Chan sat nearby in board shorts and regret, pretending to scroll his phone while sneaking glances like a pervert in training.

You caught him once.

He looked away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

You smiled.

“Hey,” you said, flipping onto your stomach. “Can you help me with sunscreen?”

His head snapped up.

“Wh—what?”

You held out the bottle. “My back. And, like… everywhere else I can’t reach.”

You were facing away from him now, bikini riding low on your hips, legs spread just enough to make him forget his own name.

Chan swallowed.

“Y-Yeah. Sure. Of course. Yeah.”

He knelt beside you, squeezed some sunscreen into his hand, and tried not to hyperventilate.

The first touch was careful.

Gentle.

His palms gliding across your shoulder blades, working the lotion in with slow, cautious movements. You were warm beneath his hands—soft and smooth and dangerous.

He moved lower.

To the small of your back.

Then down.

To your waist.

Your hips.

He hesitated at the top of your thighs, fingers twitching.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t stop him.

So he continued.

Hands sliding down the back of your thighs—kneading, pressing, lingering.

You let out the tiniest exhale when his fingers grazed too close to the edge of your bikini bottom.

His hands paused.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

But your thighs clenched.

And his cock twitched.

He cleared his throat, voice tight. “You, uh… you want me to do your legs too?”

You hummed. “If you don’t mind.”

Oh, he minded.

He minded so desperately.

Because now he was smoothing lotion down your calves, back up your inner thighs, fingertips dangerously close to a line he shouldn’t cross—and his dick was practically fighting for freedom in his shorts.

You shifted slightly.

Just enough to press back into his hands.

His breath hitched.

“You’re playing with fire,” he muttered.

You turned your head, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses, but your smirk unmistakable.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have come near the flame.”

He sat back like you burned him.

But the damage was done.

And that night? That bed?

There was no pretending anymore.

Not when his hands had already memorized your skin.

⸻

You were only meant to rinse off.

Quick shower. No big deal.

But of course, the universe had other plans—and the tiny metal clasp of your bikini top had declared war.

It was stuck.

Tangled in the curls at the nape of your neck, pulling and snagging no matter how gently you tried to free it. You twisted, yanked, whined under your breath—but the more you fought it, the worse it got.

You were officially topless, wet, and trapped.

Awesome.

You sighed and stared at yourself in the mirror, arms folded over your chest.

There was only one option.

“Chan?” you called, wincing.

A pause.

Then his muffled voice from the other side of the door: “Yeah?”

You exhaled. “I, um… I need your help.”

“Everything okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “The clasp’s caught in my hair and I can’t get it out.”

A beat of silence.

“…Are you naked?”

You huffed. “I’m trying not to be.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then: “Okay. Yeah. Coming in. I’m not looking—I swear I’m not—”

The door cracked open and he stepped in, eyes averted, one hand shielding his vision like a Victorian maiden scandalized by ankles.

You couldn’t help laughing. “Chan.”

He peeked.

And then he froze.

Because there you were.

Hair dripping. Skin flushed. Bikini bottoms still clinging to your hips—but your top was hanging awkwardly from your neck, one arm twisted back, hands barely covering your breasts.

“Don’t stare,” you said, cheeks hot.

He blinked rapidly. “I’m not. I’m—fuck, I’m trying.”

You turned, exposing the tangled mess. “Just get the clasp, okay?”

His hands trembled as he stepped closer, fingers brushing the wet strands of your hair.

He was so careful.

So quiet.

But the moment his knuckles grazed the slope of your spine—your breath hitched.

And he felt it.

All of it.

The tension. The heat. The barely-covered body standing inches away.

His fingers paused.

You whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“I…” His voice cracked. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart pounded.

“Chan…”

He turned you around, slowly, still holding the strap—his eyes dark, jaw clenched.

Your hands instinctively covered your chest again, but he caught your wrists gently, easing them away.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered.

Your lips parted.

And then—

His gaze dropped.

To your breasts.

To your waist.

To the water trickling down your skin, beading between curves he’d only touched through fabric—imagined, fantasized about.

He was completely fucked.

And he knew it.

You reached for him first.

And when your hand met his chest, he shuddered.

The next second was a blur—he grabbed your face, kissed you like he’d been holding his breath for years, like he was starving and you were the feast.

Your back hit the bathroom counter.

His hands were everywhere—cupping, kneading, memorizing what he’d only dreamed of. Tongue licking into your mouth, hips pressed firm between your legs, his cock thick and hard and grinding against your soaked bikini bottoms.

He pulled back, breath ragged.

“I’ve wanted you every night since that shower,” he rasped.

You smirked, lips swollen. “Which one?”

He growled.

“Get in bed,” he said, lifting you like you weighed nothing. “I’ll show you.”

He didn’t make it to the bed.

Didn’t even try.

Because the second you reached between your bodies—fingers bold, cupping the heavy length straining against his swim shorts—Chan snapped.

His breath hitched, hips jerking forward like you’d electrocuted him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low and wrecked. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You bit your lip, hand squeezing gently.

“Maybe I do.”

That did it.

He hauled you onto the counter in one fluid, desperate motion—bikini bottoms dragged down in a flurry of wet fabric, discarded somewhere on the tile. You gasped at the chill of the marble under your bare ass—but Chan was hot, burning between your thighs, and he stepped in close, slotting his hips to yours.

His mouth was everywhere.

Kisses rough and endless, biting down your throat, teeth scraping your collarbone, hands gripping your thighs like he could mold you to him.

And then—he paused.

Looked at you.

His gaze dropped to your chest.

And he groaned—deep and guttural—like the sight of your tits was something he’d dreamed of too many times and was now seeing in high-def reality.

“Fuck, baby…” he whispered, reverent. “These… god—”

He dipped his head.

And feasted.

Tongue flicking over your nipple, lips wrapping around it, sucking so fucking deep you arched with a cry.

Your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging as he kissed and licked and moaned into your skin, worshipping you with his mouth like your tits were salvation and he was begging for forgiveness.

Every flick of his tongue sent a pulse straight to your core.

You were already soaked.

Already panting.

And then he slid two fingers inside you without warning—curling, pressing, thrusting slow as he suckled your other nipple—and you saw stars.

“Chan—fuck, oh my god—”

“That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “Let me hear you.”

You were shaking.

Legs trembling as he fucked you with his fingers, mouth never leaving your chest, his cock hard and leaking against your thigh through his shorts.

“You’ve been teasing me for days,” he growled, biting gently. “Walking around like you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I didn’t,” you gasped, “not really.”

He looked up at you.

And then—he kissed you.

Deep. Tongue and teeth and claiming.

“I’ll show you.”

With one hard thrust of his hips, he pressed against your center—bare, swollen, aching—and you whimpered at the pressure.

“Please,” you breathed. “I want you.”

“I’ve wanted you since that first night,” he confessed. “I can’t hold back anymore.”

He grabbed your ass, tugged you to the edge, lined himself up—and slid in.

All the way.

In one deep, hungry thrust.

You cried out—head falling back, nails digging into his shoulders—because nothing had ever felt like that. Like him. Stretching you full, stuffing you so deep your body didn’t know where he ended and you began.

“Jesus fuck,” he gasped. “You feel… you feel so fucking good.”

He stayed there a second—buried inside you, panting, trembling—then started to move.

Hard.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Every snap of his hips sent a jolt through your body, every grind of his pelvis against your clit had you whimpering his name.

“Say it,” he growled into your neck. “Say whose you are.”

“You,” you choked. “Yours.”

He fucked you harder.

“Again.”

“Yours, Chan—please—don’t stop—”

He didn’t.

Not until the counter was soaked, your thighs were trembling, and he spilled inside you with a moan so guttural it left you breathless.

And still—he kissed you like he was starving.

Over and over.

Like it was never just sex.

Like it never could be.

⸻

The silence after was thick.

Heavy.

His breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling against yours as he held you there—pressed to his body, still buried inside you.

You could feel the tremble in his arms. In his thighs. In the way he kissed your temple like he didn’t know how to come down.

And then, softly:

“Let me take care of you.”

He lifted you gently, careful even though you were wrecked, and carried you the few feet to the bathtub.

Turned the faucet on.

Checked the temperature.

He was quiet—almost reverent—as he set you down on a stool and adjusted the water.

Then he knelt behind you.

“Hold still,” he whispered.

You felt his fingers in your hair—delicate and slow, undoing the mess of tangles caused by your bikini clasp. He took his time, gently easing the metal free, brushing through the curls like they were something precious.

“I got it,” he said, voice warm.

You turned your head.

He smiled at you, soft and small, like you were a secret he didn’t know how to share.

“Come here.”

The tub was full now, steam curling around you, and he helped you in first—settling you between his legs, your back to his chest, water lapping around you both.

It was peaceful.

Safe.

His hands slid over your arms, your stomach, cradling you under the water like you were fragile glass.

You let your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” you murmured.

“Like what?”

“Soft.”

He chuckled. “You made me soft.”

He was hard again.

You felt it—pressed against your ass, twitching under the water, completely unavoidable.

You smirked. Shifted just enough to make him twitch again.

“Baby…” he warned, breath hitching.

You turned in his lap, water rippling, and straddled him slow.

His eyes widened. “Are you—?”

“Still want you,” you whispered. “Need you again.”

Chan didn’t stand a chance.

Not when you lined him up and sank down with a moan, not when the hot water made everything slippery and sinful, not when your tits were right in his face and you were riding him so fucking slow he thought he was gonna pass out.

“Fuck, baby—fuck, you feel—” he grabbed your hips, guiding you, panting against your collarbone— “you’re gonna kill me.”

You leaned in, kissed his jaw. “You love it.”

He nodded frantically. “I fucking love it.”

You moved faster, grinding down, letting your nails scrape his scalp as he groaned and pressed kisses to your chest like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

Water sloshed.

Steam clung to your skin.

He looked up at you, breathless and undone, and whispered like a prayer:

“Let me come with you this time.”

You nodded, hands on his shoulders.

And when you clenched around him, gasping his name—he followed, head thrown back, arms wrapped around you, cursing against your skin like he couldn’t believe this was real.

And when it was over?

He held you there.

Still inside you, water cooling, hearts pounding together.

He kissed your forehead.

And for the first time all trip—maybe ever—you felt like more than his best friend.

⸻

The soft, golden light of morning crept through the curtains as you stirred awake, still tangled in the warmth of the sheets—and Chan’s arms, which were wrapped around you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

You blinked sleepily, then smiled, feeling the gentle pressure of his body against yours. His lips were pressed lightly to your neck, breath warm and slow.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice still thick from sleep.

You stretched, turning in his arms, and kissed him gently on the lips. “Good morning.”

Chan smirked, his hands sliding down your back and pulling you closer. There was something different in the air now—a tension that wasn’t there before, but it was sweet. His touch wasn’t just comforting—it was possessive, but in a playful way.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hand gently brushing your side, his fingertips lingering a little longer than necessary.

“You’re my girl, you know that?” he said, his voice low, lips still pressed against yours.

You pulled back a little, eyes wide. “I’m your girl?”

He nodded, the teasing glint in his eyes making it clear he was serious, but also having fun with the whole idea.

“Yeah,” he smirked, running his hand down your side, his fingers grazing your hip. “You’ve always been my girl, haven’t you?”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned back, giving him a cheeky smile. “I’ve always been your girl, huh? Is that so?”

Chan’s face softened as he grinned at you, his hand brushing your hair back from your face. “Mm-hmm, but you’re really my girl now,” he teased, his tone turning almost mischievous. “And no one else gets to have you.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “Always so possessive.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Nah, I’m just saying what’s true. You’re mine now.”

You tilted your head and raised a playful eyebrow. “I’ve always been yours, Chan.”

His smile faded just a little, his gaze turning more intense, and there was a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes.

“No,” he said softly, looking right at you. “Now you’re mine.”

And then, as if to prove it, he kissed you deeply, his hands pulling you closer, his lips sliding over yours with an urgency that made your stomach flip.

For a moment, it was as if the whole world stopped, just you and him, tangled up in the sheets.

You pulled back, catching your breath, and smirked at him. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted.”

He chuckled, his hand resting on your cheek. “I always get what I want when it comes to you.”

You smiled back, that little spark in your chest igniting again, something more than just playful affection building between you two.

And when his lips found your neck again, soft and tender, but possessive in its own way, you realized this wasn’t just some morning after kiss.

This was his kiss.

And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what you wanted.

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

Authors note: Awwww! I loved this one so muchhh 😭😭❤️❤️ Chan was so cute in this fic! I’m gonna be writing a lot more chan fics from now on.

If you know you loved it more than i did, drop a like for encouragement and REBLOG! Its important

Masterlist

[rizzanon]

?

m.list | prev | next

“I want every perimeter of this warehouse locked down—now. No one gets in or out unless I authorize it. Is that clear?”

“Double the guard on every exit. Sweep the surrounding area. I don’t care if you have to go block by block—make sure none of those bastards slip through.”

“Commissioner! There’s someone here.”

.

.

.

“Quickly, get some paramedics down here. No one touches Batgirl’s mask—is that understood?”

.

.

.

“Get the paramedics to stabilize her, but that’s it—nothing more. No one treats her except Dr Leslie Thompkins.”

.

.

.

“What of the drug dealers?”

“We managed to catch most of them, sir. They were distracted by Batgirl’s appearance—probably trying to figure out what to do with her when she showed up and foiled their dealings tonight. But… a few managed to escape in the chaos.”

“Damnit. Notify the precinct to put out an APB. I want every available unit on this. We’re not letting this operation slip through the cracks.”

.

.

.

“I don’t care who’s out there or how far they think they’ve gotten. We’re shutting this operation once and for all. If Batgirl risked her life for this, we owe her this much.”

“Sir…”

“What?”

.

.

.

“I’m sorry, Commissioner…. Batgirl… she’s dead.”

.

.

.

“What. Happened.”

“Bruce, please calm down—“

“Where is my daughter?”

“Bruce—“

“Leslie. Where. Is. My. Daughter.”

“I—I’m sorry, Bruce. I tried everything—“

“Where is she? I need to see her. Now.”

.

.

.

Where did it go wrong?

How did it come to this?

Bruce swore—swore—he’d never let what happened to Jason happen again. Not to any of them. He’d built walls, created rules, pushed himself to the breaking point to ensure it. All of it was to stop this—this—from happening.

So why… why was he staring at your lifeless body now? Why was the weight of his failure suffocating him all over again? Why had he failed you, just like he failed Jason?

His fists clenched at his sides as he took a shaky step forward. His breath hitched, and for the first time in a long time, the weight of helplessness settled heavily on his chest.

“God…damnit…” he choked, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “Open your eyes. Please.”

The room was too quiet. Too still. The sterile hum of the machines was a cruel mockery of life.

Bruce dropped to his knees beside the bed, his gloved hand trembling as he reached for yours. It felt so small, so cold.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered, his voice trembling, the words breaking apart with every syllable. “I promised—I promised I’d protect you. And I couldn’t even do that.”

He bowed his head, his forehead brushing against your hand as his grip tightened. “I’m sorry. I failed you.”

so… 🫣

have this while i continue working on chapter 3 and 4 🥰

taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinosankles @vebbiewuzhere @animegirlfromvietnam @estreiiuh @simply-lovely78 @twismare @ssak-i @g4bbi3xx @buddee @alor-thes | ask to be added <3 (idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

[dollgxtz]

Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (keigo does talk ab making you a mommy tho, and you refer to yourself as his girlfriend once), reader is a civilian, this is pre-war, reader and keigo are dating, no lube no protection (all night all day), baby trapping lowk????, idk he nonconsensually cums in you and then proposes (you accept tho), creampies, cockwarming, kinda lazy ending?? idgaf GENRE: smut SUMMARY: it’s the start of mating season and keigo had just saved a mother and her child at work today, so it’s only natural for him to come home with the overwhelming need to knock you up. WORD COUNT: 2.6K 🦊’s A/N: keigo they could Never make me hate you…. anyway hope yall enjoy this fr

     not only was today the first day of his rut, meaning his last day of hero work until the spring was over, but he had also gone out of his way to save a mother and her crying child while off-duty. he’d been heading home after an eventful and tiring patrol when he ran into them being threatened by a petty mugger—nothing he couldn’t handle, especially after the day he’d had, but he can imagine having a gun pointed to your face must be scary to an untrained civilian. now, he was brimming over with emotions, barely keeping his cool as he walks through the threshold of your shared home, slamming the door loudly behind him, wings all puffed up and ruffled.

     “keigo? honey, what’s wron—” you’re suddenly cut off by a small flurry of his feathers sweeping you off your feet and carrying you from the kitchen towards where he stood in the living room, in the process of stepping out of his boots and shrugging his jacket off. you’re immediately taken aback by his serious demeanor and you open your mouth to say something, except that no words come out. what should you say?

     “how was your day..?” you ask tentatively after a brief moment of silence. 

     rather than verbally answering you, he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and shakes his head — a response you’re unfamiliar with. usually, he isn’t afraid to yap for at least fifteen minutes about how his day went, what happened, and sometimes even the people or fellow pros he talked to! so for him to remain silent…. well, it’s safe to say you’re starting to get worried. 

     had you done something wrong? was today exceptionally challenging? your heart rate increases as your anxious thoughts swirl around in your foggy mind, and you don’t know where to go from here.

     keigo knew what to do, though; he knew exactly how to relieve this stress.

     taking a step in your direction, he narrows his eyes, intense, predatory gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, he’s leaning in for a kiss as he backs you up against the nearest wall. 

     the way he kisses you is controlled and barely put together, and you can tell he’s on edge, like he’s about to snap, so you say what you think he needs to hear.

     “you can rough me up a bit, kei, i promise i won’t break.”

     his eyes fly open at your words before narrowing as he nods before leaning back in with much more passion and any restraint right out the window. but he himself has said it before, he’s awful—he has no self-control; something that rang especially true when it came to you. 

     he’s spent whole evenings with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out until you’re crying and begging him to stop, saying it hurts, it hurts!, to which he always asks you for just one more. “one more” never meant one more, of course—keigo was greedy in this sense. he could never seem to get enough of you, always wanting more, more, more. if he could, he’d devour you whole, make you his entirely, and—that’s exactly what he was going to do tonight. he had been planning to propose for a while now, anyway. he had a ring and everything! he’d.. just been working up the courage to ask. so, then what better way than by deciding to knock you up on a whim. 

     well, …was it really a whim if he had fantasized about it before? the two of you had been dating since the summer of last year, meaning you haven’t seen him during his ruts yet, and, while he’s mentioned it briefly in the past, he didn’t actually expect to last this long with you so he never divulged the details of it—not because he wasn’t in love with you, but because he gave up on the dating scene because he’s always the one being dumped for being so. so. !!!! outwardly nonchalant about most things! or being married to his work, whatever they meant by that; he only worked so hard so he could have a future to relax in! no one ever seemed to understand that…. until he met you.

     something just clicked between the two of you upon your first meeting—you were probably the most interesting person hawks had ever saved, be it your quirk, your personality and mannerisms, or even something as simple as a remark you had made in the five something minutes it took to save you; he found himself unable to get you out of his head for days afterwards, eventually causing him to seek you out to ask a bewildered you on a date—just one, he had originally said.  

     you said yes immediately for a multitude of reasons—he was fine as fuck, he’d literally saved your life the other day, not to mention he was witty, and spoke his mind, too—something keigo hadn’t been expecting. he knew all of the above things, and yet, found himself somewhat nervous as he handed you a bouquet of pale red carnations, red camellias, and baby’s breath. he’d stayed up all night researching flower language and symbolism, deciding on the perfect ones to give to you, as he knew it was rude to show up to somebody’s house empty-handed, and, also, because… he’d never really felt this way about anyone before. there was something so magnetic between the two of you….

     but that’s enough reminiscing—he needs to be in the present moment, needs to focus on fucking you so good you go braindead on his dick, focus on cumming so deep in you, there’s no way you couldn’t not be pregnant with his child. keigo understood that having children as the number two pro hero would be no easy feat, but he thinks with you by his side, he can do anything. 

     sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, one gloved hand comes up to squish your cheeks enough to force your lips to part for him and he easily slips the wet muscle into your mouth, taking his time sliding it along the insides of your cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, carefully exploring every inch and committing it to memory (as if he hadn’t already). 

     meanwhile, his other hand settles on your hip, massaging it lightly for a moment before his grip quickly tightens and he’s coaxing your tongue out of your mouth and into his as he begins to suck on it.

     “mmh,” you hum pleasantly, starting to drool as you let keigo decide how to use you in order to relieve his stress. 

     “missed ya t’day, dove,” he murmurs against your lips before nipping at your tongue and you feel your heart flutter. what had gotten into him? you weren’t necessarily complaining, but you still felt a little worried about him if you were being totally honest.

     keigo, sensing your unease, slowly pulls away from the kiss to ask if something was wrong, just for you to deflect the question back onto him. 

     “‘m fine, it was just a long day is all,” he tells you in earnest, leaving out the part about the beginning of his rut. “need’a feel you s’bad, though,” he breathes out, moving to kiss you again; tilting his head, he slots his lips back over yours, and it feels like he’s going to eat you alive. and, truthfully, he just might.

     before you even realize what he’s doing, he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and carrying you into the bedroom where he’s pinning you to the mattress, wings spread wide for you to admire as you look up at him. you’re sure his words held a bit of truth to them, but he was behaving a little oddly for reasons you couldn’t put together yet. 

     him being a horny little shit wasn’t the unusual bit, but rather, his upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found—even if it was an act almost all the time, it still felt weird to see him so serious looking.

     “kei…”

     “shh, stop worrying, sweets,” he shushes you, leaning in for another hungry kiss. you oblige him of course, parting your lips and poking your tongue out to meet his as you close your eyes

     his large wings create an almost dome around the two of you, shutting out the world, only leaving room for the two of you, and not another soul. 

     perhaps it would be best to sit back, relax, and let your boyfriend play with you… so that’s exactly what you do, settling fully onto the soft bed and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer—something that had him smirking against your soft lips. 

     it’s not long before you’re both naked, having grown too hot for the unnecessary layers separating your bare bodies, and soon, you suddenly have a pillow tucked under your hips, keeping them at an angle—something that confuses you.

     “keigo?”

     “just relax, dove.”

     he leans in closer, bringing his lips to yours as his one hand grasps at your hip, blunt nails (that he has to trim daily, mind you, lest they grow into talons) digging into the tender flesh there while his other grabs at his leaky cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before lining it up with your slit and slowly pushing in, doing his best to show restraint and not bottom out in one fluid motion. you both groan at the feeling, the stretch so deep you almost feel nauseous.

     bringing two fingers down to your pulsing clit, he rubs semi-rough circles against the little bud, trying his hardest not to overwhelm you, but needing to hurry up and get you off so he can stuff you full of his cum.

     “mmmh,” you moan quietly as he focuses on working you up to your first orgasm out of many for the long night he had planned for you.

     it’s not long before you’re cumming with a cry and suddenly, keigo’s got his dick lined up with your slick little hole, easing himself in as he bites his bottom lip, trying not to whimper. 

     “fuuuck, you’re so tight, sweets,” he groans, rocking his hips into your, unkempt pubes brushing against your neatly trimmed ones. 

     your hands come up to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, before you’re tugging at his wings, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.

     “don’t,” is all he’s able to get out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he begins sucking and biting at the skin there. 

     “why not?” you grin like an idiot, already knowing the answer. you knew damn well just how sensitive keigo’s wings were—already having had this discussion when you first started having sex and you went to grab at them for the first time.

     “don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer, dove,” he warns.

     you, ever the brat, decide to start stroking on his wings, and you feel his hips stutter and teeth sink into the column of your throat. 

     “nngh–!” you whine, tugging on the bright red feathers. keigo moans loudly at this, and quickly grabs the backs of your thighs to fold you in half and start fuckin’ pounding into you—his thrusts are fast and sloppy, and the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin turns you on even more, pussy drooling around his dick.

     it doesn’t take long before keigo’s cumming deep inside you without warning, something that has your eyes flying open. 

     “k–keigo–! y– you just— you..!” the words aren’t there as panic begins to settle in. something you had both agreed on before you started fucking was that even if you did it raw, he had to pull out—kids were a big no for the both of you.

     but here was your boyfriend, fucking you throughout his orgasm and working his way up to a second as he looks down at you with a gaze so intense, you feel small beneath him. 

     tugging at his wings again, you cry out his name as he fucks his cum into you, just for him to ignore your pathetic mewls and pleas.

     “k– kei—!”

     “gonna knock y’up so good—g’nna— fuck— g’nna make you a mommy—”

     your face flushes deeply at his words—is this what had gotten into him? the urge to breed you? knock you up?

     “f–fuck!” you pull at his wings, rolling your hips upwards as best you can as he desperately ruts into you. this triggers keigo’s second orgasm, his pelvis pressing flush against yours as he cums hard. 

     “nngh—! hnnmg—fuck,” keigo moans as his hips still while he spills another load deep within you. “shit— y’feel so fuckin’ good, baby—” 

     this continues for what seems like ever, but in reality is maybe fifteen minutes of your boyfriend fucking into you until he physically can’t cum anymore, until tears are running down his cheeks from how overstimulated he is, and he’s collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.

     “k–keigo— we— we can’t—” can’t what? “‘m gonna get pregnant— y’gotta let me get up,” you try to say, shoving at his chest; but it was no use, he was dead weight. 

     “good,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

     “n–no! not good! i— we’re only dating! what would the media think if they found out the number two pro hero went and knocked his girlfriend up?!” your concern is genuine, but also stems from selfish reasons. you’re sure the reporters would hound you the moment they caught a whiff of something fishy, and—

     “then marry me.” his words are so serious sounding that they immediately break you out of your own mind and your eyes go wide with shock and awe. had he seriously just. proposed?! while still being balls deep in you!? 

     “huh!?” you sound just as caught off guard as you look, and keigo cranes his neck up to look at you, expression the most serious you’d ever seen it. …okay, so he obviously wasn’t joking around, but, but–!

     “you heard me. …i’d been meaning to get you a ring for a little while now, but couldn’t find one i thought you might like, so…..” his cheeks are flushed and face sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead as he gazes at you so tenderly, your heart can’t help but feel full.

     “i— keigo, i…” he waits patiently as you fumble with your words. “yes,” finally falls from your lips, a grin tugging at the corners of them.

      unable to say anything else, you cup his cheeks with both hands and press kisses all over his handsome face before you slot your lips over his and lean in slowly, almost teasingly.

     keigo, ever impatient, leans in to close the gap, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his hips twitch and he pushes further into you, causing the disgusting amount of cum stuffed in your cunt to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and drip down to your puckered asshole. after that, it doesn’t take much longer for keigo to fuck you both to sleep.

     and that’s how you found yourself in the exact same position one year later, having put your first child to bed no less than an hour ago, with your now husband pinning you to your shared mattress, talking about how he wants a second kid—how beautiful you looked pregnant the first time, and how he’d love to see you like that again. so, he makes it happen. and then one more time after that.

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