#peaches fic

[vinvantae]

Hi all! I’ve decided to scrap Peaches - thank you all for your support with it but right now I can’t see myself continuing with it.

Keep your eyes peeled for some exciting things I’ve got coming!

[tigerpeachs]

The Directory 

the tags i use so you can find a post, all active tags are tagged on this post 

my writing ❥ # peaches fic

my inbox/answered ask ❥ # momo answers

regular textpost from me  ❥ # mo speaks

fics i’m coming back to ❥ # run it back

fic recommendations ❥ # fic rec

my mutuals ❥ # besties #(blog name)

post i’m getting rid of  ❥ # delete this

[malavera]

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

[peachesofteal]

for all of us who can't bear to read anything but CoD fanfiction (due to the 141's fat tits) do you have any all-time favs?

Such an awful, sick affliction. I made one of these lists a while back but couldn't find it so you’re in luck because I have plenty of favorites and I’m happy to share them (in no particular order. I KNOW I'm forgetting at least ten fics I've read and loved but I have a goldfish brain today, forgive me):

And please, read the tags/warnings. Your consumption is your own responsibility.

Neon Medusa Too sweet not to share Ghost and Red Fox Alford plea The Willow Maid Exfiltration The Arrangement Civilian Asset See no evil Squeeze me I squeak MildLimerence Mine & Yours Saltwater Metanoia to you I can admit (that I'm too soft for all of it) white flag blood on my shirt, rose in my hand totally platonic Surviving you imprimatura Dog all that's said in the lowlight birdsongs or advice and symphonies for your children Happiness songs that sound like sea foam down to the marrow roommate gaz Chink in the Armour Man-sized Hummingbird don't leave me locked in your heart Listening In Situationship-verse The Scottish Cabin in the Woods

Additions to this list as of June 12

Spoils of War Where Your Feet Pass Neighborly and/or not The Rear Window jigsaws pictures in frames, kisses on cheeks sirius c Spoils Cabin Fever / part one lotus flower the lies we tell Who Dares Win babytrap anthology The Hard Way Of Sea Foam and Iron bury me beneath the basswood tree Wicked Harvest Tiger balm baby blue Keeper/Kept Something Sweet Stay Away appetite

[anna-scribbles]

the end of the world began on the day adrien agreste turned thirteen years old.

(first chapter is up! happy october)

[iceandpeaches]

hi idk if you know the summer i turned pretty but there’s a scene where a character says “My chest physically hurts not being able to tell her how. much I love her” and I can just imagine luke being in love with a poseidon!daughter where her dad doesn’t approve of anyone for her. He tells percy about his chest hurting and will catch glimpses of Luke actually placing a hand on his chest whenever percy’s sister is around or walks away 😫😫😫 bonus if he actually PRAYS to poseidon angst but fluff ughhh

oh anon you cooked… the praying to poseidon part made my own chest hurt hurt.. i'm kinda familiar with tsitp but i never watched it.. sorry this is kinda long!! i hope this was good🙈🙈🙈

my chest hurts; luke castellan

for years, luke had been hopelessly in love with you. from the moment you step foot at camp after being attacked, he knew he wouldn’t love anybody other than you. he was excited he could spend time with you while you were still unclaimed, but upset when you were claimed by poseidon. he couldn’t spend every moment with you anymore, by your side, your best friend. 

he was devasted that he couldn’t see you from the moment he woke up till the moment he fell asleep. with you now residing in the quiet and slightly eery poseidon cabin, you were only part of his dreams if the gods allowed it.

and with poseidon being your father, he wanted to be in your life. which meant that with you and percy, he wanted to keep his children safe from the world and people that could harm you. which is why, poseidon declared to deny any boy who asked for his blessing to date you. upon hearing such, luke never gave up hope. he’d find a way to persuade your father, somehow. 

luke headed to your cabin to look for you, walking in since he knew it would be open. it wasn’t like there were hundreds of kids running in and out all day. 

“hey y/n– oh. is she not here?”

luke glanced down at your younger brother, sat by the body of water that sat in the middle of your cabin. poseidon kids. 

“yeah she’s.. mad at me right now. she went for a swim.”

“oh. then i’ll wait for her to come back.”

luke sat by percy, fingers tapping against the area that held a pool of water. he got bored after a while, turning to percy he stared out into the opening of the cabin door. 

“hey percy.. could i tell you something?”

“yeah, what’s up?”

“it’s just.. i want to be with y/n. i think about her all the time. and it hurts, like my chest physically hurts. to be able to tell her that i’m in love with her.”

luke gripped his shirt, thinking about every moment you smiled at him, laughed at his jokes, your eyes lighting up everytime you mention something about the water or going for a late night swim, every hug, everything you did. there was something so special about you, and he wanted you to know how special you were to him. percy watched as his friend’s grip tightened on a portion of his clothing, brows creased into a frown. 

an hour or so passed, and you’d come back from your cool off swim. luke’s lips curled into a gentle smile, noticing that your hair was wet which emphasised the curls in your hair. your expression brightened upon seeing luke, your towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“luke! what are you doing here?”

“well, you’re late.”

“to?”

“bracelet making with the hermes cabin.. duh! only the best cabin ever.”

you refrained from laughing, patting him on the back. you nod in acknowledgment, grabbing a fresh camp tee and a pair of shorts to slip into running toward the bathrooms to go change. luke smiled, feeling pressure in his chest again which caused him to grip his shirt as he followed behind you. 

for the next few days, luke’s chest hurt more than it usually did. for after every interaction with you, he had to take a moment to himself to breathe it out. several times percy had caught him with a hand on his chest whenever you’d walk away to tend to another camper’s needs. luke could’ve sworn he felt raindrops and thunder every now and then, hoping it wasn’t poseidon angry at him or something. 

luke tossed and turned in bed, the thought of you still fresh in his mind. you never left his mind, all he thought about was you. he slipped out of his bunk, then out a window to find a spot to burn an offering – not to his father, but yours. he lit a match, putting in into his tin can then burning away a piece of bread he had wanted to finish off in the morning which he’d miss most.

he watched the bread burn, tossing it into the small tin can. he fiddled with the drawstring of his hoodie, thinking of what he’d like to say as a prayer to your father.

“hi mr poseidon. i am luke castellan. son of.. hermes. i.. i don’t know how to explain this.”

he fumbled with his words, his mind incapable of configuring sentences he would’ve formerly said to the poseidon. it was messing with his brain. 

“i like your daughter. and i know that, you’d want her to have a guy good enough for her. i may not be that guy but.. i was hoping.. am i saying that right? uh.. i’m seeking for your blessing to, give me a shot?”

“i want to be that guy for her. i’ll take care of your daughter with my life, i’ll be there for her when no one else can. i promise, sir. i’ll love her, comfort her, take her side no matter what…”

he gulped, the flame dancing as he spoke. he wasn’t sure if poseidon would hear into his concerns, but it was worth trying. he hesitated to seal his promise, but he loved you. he’d do anything for you.

“sir, i’ll take good care of her. i promise.”

it almost sounded too desperate. luke blew out the flame, heading back to his cabin to not get caught by harpies. his heartfelt confession made his burden slightly lighter, actually being able to sleep this time.

"luke castellan, son of hermes. i've heard your prayer."

huh? who was that? luke opened his eyes, seeing the god of the seas in front of him. he swallowed the lump in his throat, bowing down only to feel poseidon's hand on his shoulder.

"will you keep to your promise? everything you said?"

luke glanced up at the god, nodding. yes. everything he said in his prayer. he'd keep to his promise. poseidon was staring him down, luke slightly intimidated by the death glare the god was giving him. the god's eyes reminded him of your eyes, every wave reflected in them.

"yes, sir. i will keep to my promise."

"how will i know for sure?"

huh? luke thought he'd made it clear with his intentions. but then he remembered – poseidon would deny him. poseidon would've never cared what luke had said in prayer, poseidon already deemed him unfit (like any other man) to date his daughter.

"but si–"

"you already know what i'm going to say, luke castellan."

"sir plea–"

luke woke up sweating. he looked around as he caught his breath, was that real? or was that all a dream? did poseidon really visit him in his dream? his chest hurt. his chest ached. his chest felt it was burning. for all he knew, he might've just lost his chance to love you. he didn't know if he could leave his cabin when morning came, he just wanted to disappear.

[leclerced]

dirty little secret | mv1

summary: based on this request, max is dating his rival/best friend charles's younger sister and loses the no nut november bet he made

warnings: 18+ minors dni unprotected sex. wrap your willy before you get silly!

author's note: i actually kind of hate sibling pairings usually, but i woke up three hours ago and accidentally created a mini universe around this idea and i am in love with it? i wrote 4k+ and this is 1.8k of it, let me know if you'd like to see more of peach and max. requests are open!

masterlist

This was a dangerous game they were playing. Peach had flown out for the last few races of the season to support her brother and her secret boyfriend. She hated that they made this bet a week before, that she hadn’t taken him completely seriously when they were facetiming and he said he wasn’t going to fuck her the entire month of November when she joined them for the last month of the season. He said he didn’t want to get caught, and they’d already gone so long, one more month wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it was No Nut November and he’d already agreed to do it with Lando and Charles. She scowled at the mention of her brother and changed the subject, forgetting about it until she snuck into his hotel room that night and he told her he was serious. They made out and dry humped for an hour while she reasoned with him then begged him to fuck her.

Max could have fucked her when she flew in on Halloween, but he didn’t want to be slow and gentle. He wanted to grip her hips, choke her, spank her, leave bruises all over her body. And he couldn’t do that when they would be seeing his brother first thing in the morning for breakfast. He was going to wait until they were back in Monaco and he could hole her up in his penthouse and have his way with her without anyone to see the marks he left on her. It helped that Lando had drunkenly proposed they do no nut November since they were all single, and there was no way he was going to tell Lando the reason he couldn’t was because he had a secret girlfriend. Lando and Charles were gossips, and wouldn't stop interrogating him until he gave in and admitted who he'd been screwing.

The first few days were fine, she tried convincing him to touch her, to fuck her, but he'd just kiss her while rocking his hips against hers until he felt like he was going to burst if he didn't stop, then he'd roll off of her, or push her off him and fall right asleep. She'd toss and turn with the uncomfortable heat between her legs until she fell asleep. They made it all the way until Vegas before she got him inside of her. They'd gone out celebrating another record breaking win of his, and he'd gotten lost in the feeling of her lips on his as she drunkenly stripped them both down back in their hotel room. She was on top of him and he'd forgotten about the bet until she slipped him inside of her for the first time in months and sighed into his mouth. He'd frozen, a moan trapped in his throat as he tried to ground himself when she began rocking her hips against him. She wanted to cry when he rolled them over, relieved that he was going to take over and fuck her like she'd been craving. But he just kissed her slowly and stayed completely still. She tried rolling her hips into his but he gripped her hips with a bruising forced and pushed her hips into the bed, "Stop. Don't fucking move or I'll pull out."

She whined, tears welling up in her eyes, "Maxie," she slurred his name painfully, "Maxie, please, please, I need it."

He pressed his face into her neck and shook his head, "We have eleven fucking days left. You can wait." She whimpered and he felt her fluttering around him as he kissed her neck. "Just go to sleep, peach." She sighed and sniffled, and he pulled back to see tears rolling down her temples from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away and cupped her cheeks in his hands, "You can be good for me, can't you schatz?" She nodded wordlessly as his lips brushed her cheek and he murmered, "You're always so good for me, pet." It took her an hour to fall asleep around him as he pressed kisses into her skin the entire time trying to relax her, but it was pure torture that she couldn't bare asking him to stop.

They slept like that for the next week, him finding a way to slip inside of her and lock her in his arms so she couldn't slip away in the middle of the night. They'd wake up sore and uncomfortable from not moving all night, even in their sleep they couldn't stop touching each other. He thought they would make it until a week later he woke up to her rocking back against him and he could feel his orgasm bubbling in his stomach. He tightened his grip on her to still her and bearily hissed, "Stop moving." She squirmed in his arms and didn't respond other than a sigh as his tighter grip pulled her impossibly closer. Max blinked his eyes open and felt how relaxed she was against him, her body was limp in his arms as he pulled his face away from where he'd buried his face in her back. She was still asleep as she fucked himself on his cock. He groaned as he untangled his arms and rolled away from her, pushing her onto her stomach as he rolled onto his back.

He was counting his breaths, had just hit ten when she shifted next to him. Her arm pulled out from underneath her stomach and she blindly reached out to him. her hand hit his stomach, right next to his aching cock and she froze as he fingers touched the puddle of precum on his stomach. "Don't touch me." he hissed as she turned her head to him. She licked her lips as she sleepily fluttered her eyelashes at him and took in the sight in front of her. Her fingers dragged through the mess and she teasedingly murmered why not? as she pulled her hand to her mouth, lips parting so she could suck her wet fingers into her mouth. He swiftly inhaled through his nose as he watched her hollow her cheeks around her fingers. "I'm going to cum if you do."

She sighed at the taste on her tongue and sucked her finger tips clean before she removed them and mumbled "Miss the way you taste." His cock twitched and he rubbed his face as he groaned, he was so close to cumming, the words almost did him in. He felt her fingers run across his stomach again, collecting more of his cum to taste, he assumed. He opened his eyes again just in time to see her hand slip from her lips a second time then retreat beneath her body and her eyes flutter shut as she gasped, "Fuck, Maxie, I miss the way you feel. 'M so wet for you." He watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in a sigh, and he realized she'd started touching herself. He felt his resolve crumble at the realization, at the sound of her sighing his name as she arched her back.

Max couldn't stop himself as he pushed himself up and crawled on top of her, trapping her legs on either side of his as he straddled her. He bit his lip at the sight of her glistening cunt, her fingers already soaked as she ran them through her lips and circled her clit for him, putting on a show now that he was behind her and watching. He didn't say anything as he lined up with her entrance and slowly pushed back inside. She expected him to stop when he bottomed out, but he began fucking her at that agonizingly slow pace as she swirled her fingers around her clit. She wasn't going to last, she had been dreaming about fucking him and woke up feeling her clit throbbing between her legs. She felt so good like this, still half asleep and drunk on pleasure, her entire body was sending waves of pleasure to her brain and she wanted to spend the rest of her life like this.

It only got better when he leaned down and pressed his chest to her back as he kissed her shoulder. Max could hear her breathing quickening as his lips kissed her skin and his hands roamed her body, squeezing her hips and ass before slipping under her body to grasp at her bare breasts. He was trying so hard not to cum the moment he slipped back inside her, he just needed to push her over the edge so he could feel her gushing around him and he would fall apart with her. He quickened his pace a bit, needing to feel her cum around him as soon as possible, and pulled her hips up to meet his. The newfound urgency in his thrusts and his cock hitting that spongy spot inside her made her mind spin as she suddenly cried, "There, right there, 'm gonna-" her words were cut off by a moan as she shuddered beneath him and he felt her release around him. It was a domino effect, as soon as his cock felt her clenching around him he froze in place, teeth sinking into her shoulder as he finally came.

She writhed beneath him, rocking her hips back into him as much as she could with his weight on her. She loved the feeling of him releasing inside her, it made her orgasm hit her even harder than she thought as she sloppily rubbed at her clit. She couldn't make up her mind, her fingers stilling because she was too sensitive, then circling the over sensitive bud because she needed to feel herself clench around him again to make his cock twitch inside her as it dripped more cum.

Neither of them said anything for a long while, he kissed the bite mark he'd left on her shoulder then rested his cheek on her back while they caught their breath. "Couldn't last four more days, huh?" She finally teased and he laughed.

"Woke up to you fucking yourself on me, can't blame me. Almost came when I woke up, barely stopped myself."

She whined and he felrt her clench around him at his words, "You should have just fucked me awake. Rude of you not to wake me up by filling me."

He groaned and pressed his face into her warm, soft skin. "You're going to get me killed." She giggled as the bet he'd made with her brother and their friend resurfanced in her mind.

"Guess this means you lose. Can I tell Charlie?" She was teasing him again, he knew it, but it made him nervous.

Max stiffened on top of her, "No. No. You are not telling your brother. We are not going public by saying you made me lose this fucking bet."

She giggled gleefully and reached back to curl her fingers into his hair, "Better shut me up then, if you wanna keep me your dirty little secret."

[fangirlingpuggle]

Half asleep Bowuigi idea where Luigi gets kidnapped and somehow castle chef is not able to make food and Luigi volunteers because these kids are hungry and they need to eat!

He makes a massive Italian meal, Kamek doesn't even know where he got the ingredients from but he eats a bit and is not complaining, all the Koopalings eat it and are instantly like ‘we are keeping him’.

Suddenly all the minions are actually really really trying to stop Mario it goes to Kaizo levels hard and Mario is not having a good time, but he is getting his brother back. Peach is not sure if she should be offended or not that they’ve never been this bad when it was her kidnapped.

Bowsers confused why it’s taking Mario so long (He’s a bit happy though because the green one is kinda nice to talk to NOT THAT HE WILL EVER ADMIT THAT)

Bonus: The Koopalings met Polterpup and lose their minds because IT’S A DOG! IT’S A GHOST DOG! HE HAS A GHOST DOG WE ARE KEEPING HIM AND THE DOG! WHY DID YOU KEEP KIDNAPPING THE PRINCESS DAD THIS GUY IS SO COOL AND HE HAS A DOG!

[peachsayshi]

───⋆⋅THE WAY YOU LOVE ME (LINK TO FULL STORY)⋅⋆ ───

summary:  breaking up with your ex-boyfriend left your love life in a rut. so, you decide to start a physical relationship (no strings attached) with your close friend, satoru gojo. despite setting up rules, the two of you can't seem to keep your boundaries in check, and the lines that he's so carefully put in place blurs as your worlds slowly collide the deeper you both fall.

note: the entire fic is available on AO3. I originally had this fic posted on Tumblr, but have decided to stop updating on this platform. I do not use wattpad or any other platforms for my fics. If you see anybody else posting this story it has been plagiarized.

fic status: complete

[starstrvckfool]

Calls and Commands

Based on this Fic:

‼️WARNING: before reading this fic make sure to check the tags because this story contains very heavy topics and it gets heart wrenching‼️

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈

🍑peaches world (and the men that just exist in it) masterlist🍑

summary - the beginning on how you were kidnapped by the king of koopa kingdom, buckle in your seatbelts and enjoy the ride, because this will be a smutty rollercoaster.

warning - mentions of cock, kidnapping, inappropriate feelings/thoughts, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif isn’t mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You watched your kingdom from above, it was a peaceful day as your people walked around and lived their lives happily. Usually, things were more of a ruckus. With a smile you turned and began to walk out of your room and down the hall, your pretty pink dress falling gracefully to the floor and sways with each step. You were happy, Lloyd and his brother Tangerine were currently out helping the people, so you had the castle to yourself.

You were wondering what you were going to do with your free time. You had many options, you could improve your parkour, do some painting that you always wanted to do but pushed to the side, you could go outside and tend to your flowers. The possibilities were endless and just as you were about to take the last step, a hand wraps around and covers your mouth. Your eyes widen, your hands immediately go up to try and pull whoever it is away. You freeze when they speak, feeling their massive body pressing against you.

“Shh, little Princess. You don’t want to warn the guards now, do you?” Ari Bowser Levinson is the one currently holding you. Your enemy, your rival. The King of The Koopa Kingdom. “That’s a good little Princess, staying nice and quiet for me.” You try to fight the shiver that runs through your body, knowing it’s wrong to feel this way when you are with someone. “Do you know how shit your security system is, Princess? I managed to slip right in, I mean. Someone really bad could’ve broken in and taken you for themselves, don’t you understand how dangerous that is.” He whispers like he isn’t the really bad person. You wiggle, trying to move away but you end up brushing your arse against him instead causing him to groan. “I wouldn’t do that, Princess. Unless you are wanting me to take you right here.”

You stop abruptly and your eyes widen, suddenly everything goes black. You don’t remember anything after that, and when you finally wake with your eyes fluttering open. You look around, confused. The walls and floors are grey, you tilt your head as you notice a large screen resting against the wall. Your attention is brought away from it when Ari enters the room. “Good morning, little Princess! Has my little Princess made herself comfortable in her new home?” He towers over you as he’s around 8 feet tall. He stalks closer, bending over to stare at your sitting form. “I sure hope so, because if I get my way, you will be staying here for the rest of your life!” He grins, and you shiver as it comes off evil-like. His eyes holding something much darker behind them. 

“Screw you and your plan, Ari! I’m sure Lloyd and his brother are already on their way to come rescue me!” You huff, arms crossing over your chest unknowingly pushing your breasts together and giving the older man/monster a lovely view. Your bottom lip juts out and you try to glare at him, failing miserably with how small and cute you are compared to him.

Ari coos, “You are correct, my smart little Princess. As far as I’ve been informed, they are already on their way!” He watches you jump with joy, your breasts bouncing with each movement, and he feels his cock twitch, licking his lips as soon the fun will begin. 

“Really?! They are coming?! That’s great!” You continue to jump, clapping your hands as a giant grin appears on your face. 

Ari laughs, shaking his head and moving closer to you. Backing you into the wall. “Not so fast, little Princess. Not everything is going to be easy for you.” He grins, placing his arm next to you against the wall. Ari directs you toward the screen, his arm wraps around you, making you feel even smaller, those darn tingles appearing again, and you try to push them away knowing how wrong it is. His hand reaches into his pocket, receiving a remote and you eye it. Your eyes move from the remote to his hands, wondering how they can still look so good with the claws. 

You had always heard stories before Ari turned his attention toward you and your kingdom. (Mostly you, but you didn’t think someone would be so obsessed with just you.) He was once a man that got his karma, being turned into half of a turtle. His already big build helped him mutate into something more monstrous. Horns in certain places, claws, sharp fangs, a larger cock. (Not that anyone got to see, but I guess it’ll be your lucky day.) 

Ari snaps you out of your thoughts, smirking when he catches you staring at his hands. “Two days have passed since I kidnapped you, little Princess. Where do you think Lloyd and his brother are now?” He hums.

“I presume they should be knocking at the door to enter the castle, right about now. I think…” You blink up at him, brows furrowed. 

Ari boops your nose, smirking wider than before. “Alright, if you have that much hope in your little boyfriend. Let’s watch it live to see how they are doing, shall we, little Princess?” You both face the tv, his large finger pressing the on button and he grins at your wide tear-filled eyes. 

“They’re at the beginning?! But how?! What are they still doing there?!” You yell in disbelief. Sure, the brothers were a bit slow sometimes, but you would’ve thought that saving you would make them go a bit faster. You begin to scream at the screen, hoping that they would be able to hear you. “It’s been two days, and you are still there?! I’m not even in that fucking world!” Ari chuckles behind his hand as he hears you swear, you look so cute as your cheeks puff out. “I’m in Bowser’s castle! Everyone knows it’s the biggest and most guarded of them all! Those are just fucking decoys!” You stomp your foot, practically throwing a tantrum, not noticing the big bad King sneaking closer behind you. “You fucking idiots! They’ll kill you now! Fucking watch out! That’s just the first Goomba of that level! Don’t let him touch you, you idiots!” 

“This is going to take a while, little Princess. So… Why don’t we have some fun while we wait.” Ari smirks as you turn with a confused look on your face. Before you can react, he rips your dress from your body, and you stand there with wide eyes. “Oh, we are definitely going to have some fun, little Princess.”

would you like to follow the game? if yes, please click round 1 when the link is avaliable.

𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 1

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[bowserphobia]

SPM sketchessssss. Mostly from the fic i'm working on so sorry if they don't make any sense. I like the idea of Mr. L traveling with them :-)

[istadris]

"There is no way out of this situation", Bowser growled out, pacing in the throne room. "I will not let Peach see me like...like this. And let's not even think about asking Mario. That plumber hates my guts, and the feeling is mutual, there is no way he would ever help me." "Well, there is still his brother, Your Pridefulness." Bowser stopped in his tracks, utterly baffled. "Mario has a brother??"

[Next]

.

Or : a plotbunny for a fic where Bowser had no idea of Luigi's existence, until he faces a delicate situation requiring a human's help and the green plumber is his best choice. If he manages to convince him. But that shouldn't be too hard; from what Kamek is telling him, Mario's brother is a cowardly little shyster. Easy to strong-arm him into helping the Koopa King, right?

(Except this is Luigi with his Paper Mario personality. AKA a cowardly yet sassy lil punk)

[peaches2217]

“You’ve gotta take a nap, bro.”

“Then I’d have to stop looking at her.”

“She’ll be here when you wake up.”

“But I gotta make sure, yeah?”

“That’s what I’m here for, you big doofus. You know I won’t let anything happen to her!”

Luigi knew better than to take it personally, his brother’s protests and the silences between them. Reasoning with Mario when he was short on sleep was always an ouroboric cycle; the key to victory was to wear him down, tail him relentlessly in endless verbal circles, until at last he was tired enough to believe that dropping everything for a quick break was his own idea, at which point he would happily concede.

He’d always been stubborn like that. And as Luigi was quickly learning, the only thing more stubborn than an exhausted Mario was an exhausted Mario with a sleeping newborn in his arms. But he’d procured a nap himself and was armed with an endless supply of coffee and a foot-tall stack of Better Toads and Gardens. He could play this game all night long.

When another silence fell over them, he peeked over from an article on propagating winter roses and watched for a moment. Nothing new to observe. Mario still cradled his daughter’s head to his heart, his thumb stroking her cheek; his eyes were heavy yet soft and full of wonder, an equally soft (if slightly dopey) smile on his lips.

Luigi felt a similar smile creep onto his own face. He’d be lying if he tried to deny how precious the sight was, or how it made him want to melt into the loveseat they shared like gooey candy left too long in the sun. Fatherhood looked good on his brother. He’d always suspected it would.

Of course, it would look a lot better once Mario wasn’t visibly on the verge of passing out. And maybe after he took a razor to the stubble prickling his chin and cheeks and neck. And a good shower wouldn’t hurt, either. But for now, one hurdle at a time.

“Remember that talk we had?” Luigi leaned to his opposite side to fetch his drink from the end table, overcrowded with magazines. “You’ve gotta take care of yourself if you’re gonna take care of anyone else.”

“I know,” Mario groaned, dragging the last syllable out like a petulant child who’d been asked to clean his room, “and I’m gonna! You know that! But I gotta make sure she gets rested up first, yeah? All these new sounds and sights; that’s hard work, taking it all in! She’s too little for all that excitement.”

That dopey smile widened, and as Luigi polished off his fifth cup of coffee, Mario began cooing beneath his breath: “Sì che lo sei! Mia bellissima principessina! Mia albicoccetta sonnolenta! Papà adora così tanto la sua bambina! Sì! Sì!”

That was a good sign. A babbling Mario was a Mario desperately trying to keep himself awake, and thus a Mario mere minutes from giving into sleep. Luigi set his cup back onto the table and draped his reading material over the loveseat’s arm so he could commandeer baby duty at a moment’s notice.

“You can barely even keep your eyes open. It’s not safe to fall asleep holding a baby,” Luigi reminded him. “I’ll hold her for you. She’ll probably still be snoozing away by the time you wake up!”

Mario’s smile gradually faded, and he squinted down at his little girl, as if contemplating every divot of her visage. Luigi swore he could hear the squeak-squeak-squeak of rusty, overworked cogwheels rotating deep within his brother’s brain.

“What if she isn’t?” Mario eventually asked.

“Isn’t what?”

“Snoozing. You know? What if… what if she wakes up before I do? What if she needs changed, or…”

“Then I’ll change her. No sweat.”

Mario shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Mario, I’m a plumber. You think dirty diapers scare me?”

“No, I mean—” he gulped, catching a quiet, heavy breath. “Won’t she be scared? If she wakes up and she needs something but her mama’s asleep and her papa’s asleep, she’s gonna think she’s all alone, and—” His voice cracked as he spoke, and as soon as he stopped talking, his bottom lip began to wobble, fat tears pooling in his eyes.

That was also good. A weepy and irrational Mario was a Mario on the precipice of surrender. This would be over soon.

“No!” Those tears leaked out as he buried his face into the crown of her head, planting little kisses to her hair between affirmations. “No no no, Papà non andrà da nessuna parte, albicoccetta! Non ti abbandonerò mai!” Mwah! “Mai!” Mwah! “Mai!”

“Stars’ sakes, Mario, you’re not abandoning her.” Luigi made a point to keep his voice even and sympathetic as he scooted closer, draping an arm around his emotional brother’s shoulders. “I can wake you up if she needs anything,” he promised. “But you know she’ll be okay! As long as she’s clean and cozy, she’ll sleep like a— well, you know.”

Mario sniffled. “You’ll keep her cozy?”

“The coziest. She’ll be so cozy she won’t even know you passed her off to me!”

“...But we don’t smell the same! She’ll smell you and know it’s not me!”

“Bro. She’s a baby, not a dog.”

“But she’s so talented! So smart!” Mario hiccupped and turned to wipe his face across his shirt sleeve, already stained and crusty from the fifteen times he’d used it as a snot rag prior. “She stopped crying as soon as she heard her mama! She opened her eyes when I talked to her for the first time! She knows these things!”

If she already knows your smell as well as she knows your voice, then you really need that shower. Luigi bit back a chuckle and cleared his throat. No, he’d be every bit as incoherent and emotionally raw in Mario’s shoes. Comfort now. Snark later.

“Look at me, bro.” He pulled back just enough so that Mario could look up at him, and that alone was a victory, because he hadn’t looked away from his daughter in hours. And looking into his eyes now, red from tears and foggy with fatigue, Luigi knew with even greater conviction that he was on the right track. “If she wakes up — the second she starts acting scared or sad or needy, I’ll wake you up.”

“You promise?”

“On Polterpup.”

“You won’t just grab a nurse, or make Peach—” Something like horror flickered across Mario’s face, and suddenly he leaned in, his brows scrunched and his tone sharp. “Swear you won’t wake Peach up. No matter what. Don’t even think about it! Swear that on Mama’s grave!”

Luigi blinked. Well, if he’d been entertaining thoughts of waking a new mother after she’d spent all day in labor (which he wasn’t, at least not too seriously), those thoughts went flying out the nearest window. Mama Mario would personally descend in a chariot of angels to smack him with a rolling pin for committing such an act in the first place; what wrath would he incur if he also spited her name in the process?

Yeesh. That was an intense request, even (or maybe especially) for Mario.

Still, he clapped a hand against his brother’s shoulder, nodding firmly. “Sulla tomba di Mamma. Lo giuro.”

Finally, Mario’s face softened, and he lowered his head with a sigh. Luigi met him halfway; he cupped the back of Mario’s head and touched their foreheads together, and there they savored a moment of quiet resignation, taking in each other’s calming presence.

Wow. It had only taken three hours to reach this point. Honestly, Luigi was quite impressed with himself.

“Alright.” With one last sigh, Mario broke free and turned his attention back to the bundle in his arms, kissing her forehead gently. “You be good for Zio, okay, sweetie? He’s gonna take good care of you.”

Even in the weariest depths of acute oxytocin intoxication, Mario knew (with minimal convincing) that his own child was just as safe with his twin as she was with him. Luigi cleared his throat again, some fluttery but not unpleasant feeling bubbling in his chest. He knew better than to take that for granted.

Zio. Oh, he loved that title.

He found himself uttering his own stream of soothing nothings as he plucked the baby from Mario’s arms, leaning back against the couch cushion so he could prop her against his chest. Stars Almighty, she was her papa’s spitting image. Her chubby cheeks, her strong jaw, her dark hair — she was Mario if he had Peach’s eyes and nose and shaved off his mustache and was also thirty years younger. A little Mini-Mario.

Luigi clicked his tongue softly at his precious little niece, resting peacefully in his arms, entirely unphased by the transfer. Another trait she’d picked up from her father, it seemed: she was one heck of a heavy sleeper.

He would tear down the sky and blow up the stars for her. Funny, how quickly one can devote their entire being to something so small.

“C’mon,” he said, facing his brother again, “let’s get you somewhere more—”

Mario was out cold. He hadn’t even laid back or made himself comfortable; he just slumped forward, his mouth open slightly, his eyes lightly shut.

Great. Speak of the devil…

“Hey.” He glanced back down to the infant in his arms, ensuring her neck remained stable as he nudged his brother with his shoulder. “Come on. Don’t do this! There’s a perfectly good sofa literally right across the room!”

His rationale went unheard. Mario swayed in place for a moment, eyes still closed, and then slouched into Luigi’s side, his head landing square on his shoulder. A quiet snore escaped him as he made contact, and then nothing.

Luigi stared down at his unconscious twin in stupefaction, eventually casting a longing gaze at his gardening magazine, still open and waiting for him on his opposite side. Mario wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. He could, in theory, free himself, but given how the hypervigilant dad-to-be had trained himself these past months to startle awake at the slightest sudden movement…

Well. Their shared moment of resignation hadn’t just been for Mario’s sake, then.

Ah well. Best not divide his attention while babysitting. With a lighthearted huff, Luigi carefully repositioned himself, pulling his legs beneath him and leaning against the loveseat’s arm (and creasing his poor abandoned magazine in the process) so he could more appropriately support Mario’s bulk. Both father and daughter remained undisturbed as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

“Starai una rompiscatole come Papà?” he whispered to the bundle in his arms. He tried to sound annoyed, if for no one’s sake but his own, but he couldn’t possibly drop the grin that tugged at his cheeks.

His niece smacked her tiny lips, nestling a bit deeper into her blanket with a quiet noise. At the same time, Mario snored again, settling against his brother in his sleep.

A Mini-Mario indeed.

“Oh, sì!” Luigi nuzzled his nose into the crown of her head, planting little kisses to her hair as she snoozed. “La rompiscatole preferita di Zio! Sì che lo sei! Sì!”

[peachesofteal]

Oh god - I’m still stuck on this.

18+ MDNI / explicit sex, dark and twisted themes

I've been thinking a lot about Simon Riley who doesn't want the divorce.

Simon who never wanted to be separated, who hates living apart. Simon, who would drag you to a tattoo artist to get your ring permanently inked to your skin so you could never be rid of him, if he could. He’s been actively avoiding the stack of papers that are waiting for his signature, staying on longer Ops, picking up extra work.

Can’t be divorced if there’s no signature.

Simon, who unbeknownst to you, still comes home. Still pushes open the back door in the dead of night, keeping his steps silent so he doesn't wake you. Simon, who stands in the doorway of your bedroom, his old bedroom, and watches you sleep on his side of the bed in those little, ratty shorts with your ass perked up in the air like you're waiting for him. Like you’re ripe, and ready.

Simon, who checks your birth control every night. Who’s pleased when he realizes this month’s pack hasn’t even been opened, every color coded pill still in place, foil glinting at him in the low light of the vanity.

Good girl, he thinks to himself, shutting your medicine cabinet with a silent click. Getting yourself all ready for him.

Simon, who agrees to meet you for dinner.

"Let's just sign and get it over with. We can catch up, too. Talk about what we want to do with the house."

"Alright, love. Whatever you want."

You're a bundle of nerves when he shows up, seated at a little table in the back, glass of wine already half gone.

Normally, he'd try to soothe you. You've always been naturally anxious, a little dependent, and in a social setting, a little high strung. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch.

But this time, he doesn't bother. He sits there with his arms crossed, watching you nervously chatter away, one hand flat on a manilla envelope. He stays quiet, letting you go on, watching your hands seek something to do, fingers finding your wine glass over and over.

You drink two glasses of wine before the entrees are served, dangerously close to your usual self imposed "three drink" limit.

One thing bleeds into another. You start to lean a little, in your chair. He nurses a bourbon, you order a shot after the meal.

"Want one?" Your tongue follows the seam of the lime wedge, dabbing along the spongy, white fibers before your teeth sink into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.

“You know I don’t like tequila, but you go on.”

You’re a bit sloppy by the time he gets you home, but still sweet like honey, like you used to be years ago. Before everything changed. Before you asked him to move out.

You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the kitchen table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.

You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.

“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He cooed, relishing in the way you moaned with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Don’t worry, I’m gon’ take care of you and this neglected little pussy.”

“You have to pull out.” You slurred, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.

Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?

“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.

To have and to hold.

“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.

“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.

“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.

“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.

“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“

“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.

“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you wanted years ago, the thing that made you cry alone in the middle of the night whenever he refused.

Well, he’s going to give it to you now.

“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.

And he’ll throw away the key.

His phone dings with a text, two days later.

“Still mad at you… Can we please meet up about these signatures?”

This became a full fic here.

[katsukiizmoon]

Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader | 18+ | Royal ! AU

Synopsis: The years have flown by with Katsuki, who fills your body and mind with fire. You'll keep him with you till the day you die and then after that, thanking whatever deities there are for him. Maybe you were put on this earth to love him, like every other lifetime.

Tags: Prince!Bakugo, Characters aged up, Reader & Katsuki are sexually inexperienced, Virginity loss, Smut, Unprotected sex, lovey dovery, mushy gushy, parents don't approve, kissing, flirting, general cute shit, fluff, happy ending, praise

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Holy fuck I wrote this in one day. I don't even know how I just kept writing and writing. I need to go get food now because I forgot to eat. This is so sickingly sweet your teeth are going to rot man. One suggestive scene, one smut scene, and a lot of praise. Kinda wanna do a part two to this...

Your feet press into the grass below you, twisting as you turn to view Katsuki. His face glows in the morning sun, specks of what looks like stardust grace his cheeks and  your breath catches in your throat. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on in your twenty-three years of existence. For a moment, you truly soak in the idea of being put on this god forsaken planet just to meet him. Him, who sweeps your feet out from under you and lets you fall instead of catching you. There’s something otherworldly about his entire being and you’re positive you’ve loved him in every over life you’ve lived.

You run, feet digging into the dirt and thin dress bouncing as you do so. And you turn again, just to look at him. Who stands tall and broad, shoulders square and eyes forward at all times. Who raises a brow at you with a scoff as your hand reaches toward him. And your feet catch up under you, tripping on one another as you plummet to the ground. Dirt smears onto the side of your leg and a sprig of grass presses into your nose. Air knocked out of you, you lay heaving and looking up to where the stars once were and where they will be again.

“Goddamnit! I told you not to go running around, clumsy ass.” Katsuki hurries over in a few quick strides and peers over at you.

And god may the heavens, the hells, and anything between save your poor soul. His hair falls from his forehead, deep garnet eyes bore into your own and you think you’re going to die. You’ll do anything for him, in any moment, for just a taste of his partially chapped lips.  His teeth dig into his bottom lip, then he releases the poor flesh, and his mouth opens. Then closes. Then it opens again and closes. This time, however, his jaw clenches as he does so. A thick palm reaches towards you for a moment and you take it.

“That was fun.” You gleam, with a toothy smile.

“No, honey, that was you being a dumbass.” He reminds.

“Oh yeah?” You grin, teeth dipping into your bottom lip as you ponder a thought. His brows raise before his eyes narrow.  The cherry irises dig a hole in your soul and call it home, planting little seeds of wanderlust there. He knows you’re planning something.

Katsuki can tell by the way your fingers twitch like you’re resisting an inch, the uncontrollable grin spreading across your face. What he doesn’t know is what you’re planning. The gods have truly blessed him with a wild one, he thinks. Of all the rules he is expected to follow within the kingdom he lives, you are not one of them. His parents threw a toddler sized hissy fit when they started noticing the blush spreading across your cheeks when he was around. Their voices raising in anger, fists smacking down on the thick oak table that was meticulously crafted for only the most exquisite dinners. He denied it over and over, still to this day does, swearing on every book of worship he can that there’s “nothing there”.

But you both know it’s a lie. Hell- everyone- knows it’s deception. His mother, who cannot for the life of her understand, and his father- whom pinches his nose in stress every time he gets home late. They can see it in the glances you steal from the world towards one another. Or the extra plate he fixes himself, only to excuse himself to his “room” and not return for another three hours. After what felt like decades of fighting, it seems they’ve began to give up, on him. On the idea that he would drop your fragile, beautiful beating heart to the ground and allow it to weep and mourn the death of your blossoming union. As he’d rather kill them both, stealing the crown for the two of you, than he would lose your trust.

Within the few seconds he spent, gawking at the beauty of your everything, he forgot something important.

You were planning something.

Were.

Your hands grip onto him, foot, sliding to the back of his ankle to sweep him off his feet and onto the ground. Katsuki lands hard and you fall atop him. With a yelp and a groan, he looks at you incredulously.

“What the fuc-“ Katsuki starts.

You do not budge, allowing your body to lay between his bent legs, pressing your hands on his chest to keep him still. Your palms slide over the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscle underneath, and up towards his throat. Your fingers make claim around his jaw area, two behind his head and thumbs directly on his jaw. It is there that your lips and teeth profess their yearning for every piece of his beautiful being. Every part of him, you want to drown in. You breathe in his essence and soak it deep into the marrow of your bone, where it will stay forever. Traveling up your lovers throat and jaw, you make your way to his lips.

Neither of you thought you’d crave someone saliva so much in your life. But his lips, his tongue- your lips, your tongue- is sweeter than any syrup made from flowers and honey. It is a miracle the two of you have not simply passed away from being without one another. It has only been a week since you’ve kissed, only one. He swore he’d be back and you swore you’d kill him if he didn’t show. And when his tooth nips the right corner of your bottom lip, something feral and raw bubbles up in your blood. It’s hot and thick and makes you want to cry and beg and confess your love all at once.

Something about it drives you crazy and you truly feel like banging your head against the thick, stone walls, of the castle would be of use. Maybe it would soothe the ache that wells deep within the pits of your  tummy and rushes down your legs and up your spine like fire. Where it controls you, takes over you, consumes you. And you’ve felt it once before, when he’d pressed you against a castle wall near the kitchen and kissed you so hard your lips felt like they’d bruise. Before he stalked down the hallway, head high, shoulders back, nodding to the person rounding the corner. He left that day, for the week- his mother sending him somewhere for swordsman skills.

A moan bubbles in the back of his throat when your hands lay purchase in the tufts of his thick hair. You pull, wanting him to be closer than ever before. His solid arms wrap around your torso and squeeze  as the two of you begin huffing thin breaths of air into your lungs. You still feel as if you cannot get enough of him, like something is missing, and you’re going to go insane. The stars above have graced you with a lot of things- patience is not one of them and never will be. So your lips begin to suck on the crook of his neck, wanting to live there for eons.

Blue and purple blossoms against the skin and electricity shoots through the marrow of your bones when a groan escapes his pretty lips. Fuck. You want to do it again, and again, and again until your lips are sore and cannot go on. So you start again and relish in his fingers pressing future bruises into  your hips. The charcoal grey top he has on turns a deeper shade, almost black, with the sweat from the both of you.

“Oh god-“ He whimpers out, as you pull your body up closer to him, thigh dragging across his crotch. His hips buck into the touch and you squeal, pulling back to take a breath.

With that, the two of you begin to call it quits, laying between the grass and stray dandelions, heaving. Your chests rise and fall sporadically and Katsuki is spending an extra moment gathering himself. The sun his high in the sky and when you straddle him he thinks he’s in heaven with the glow around your figure.

“Told you it was fun!” You giggle out, thumb grazing over his jaw as you marvel at his beauty.

Katsuki thanks the stars, the moon, the grass, the sun- everything for you. The wild spirit that told him to “take it easy” and shoved him down on the ground to claim his soul as hers. He’d spent hours training, doing anything and everything his parents asked of him. Sit up, walk straight, elbows off the table. But there was something burning in his core that begged to be fed, to be given just a twig here and there, something that allowed him to feel free. Then you, you came strutting through the castle with a basket of his clothing already folded. Muttering to yourself about how stupidly big the place was and how he was an asshole for not knowing how to “fold his own fucking draws”.

When you yelled at him for messing up your pile of neatly folded clothing, he thought he was hearing things. At first he was angry, as the prince, it was not your place to speak to him that way. But the other part of him wanted to worship you for seeing him like any and every other human being on the face of the earth. So he requested you more and slowly the bickering between the two of you became play fighting. The play fighting made its valiant transition into a peck on the lips here or there, or red cheeks while the other did even miscellaneous tasks.

His mother and father had always urged him to find love, offering him suitors of all shapes and sizes and races and kingdoms. They were all pretty in some manner, like Lillia, who made a crown of flowers for him as a gift. But he couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than angry with them. They wanted a spot on the throne, which was okay, it was the way of the people. However, Katsuki felt nausea bubble in the back of his mouth like acid reflux any time they did anything for him or attempted to get near him. Eventually, family determined he would just be without marriage, and would be required to lie with someone eventually for grandchildren.

You, however, oh lord, you. With angry words and a quick temper, soft plush lips and eyes that made him feel small. You were wild and broke every fucking rule set in front of you. He begs, for you, and only you. He’d break every bone in his body thrice and be confined to mashing grapes for the finest of wines for eons if it meant you gave him the time of the day. He’d do anything.

Later, the two of you are minding your own, going about the day without worry. You’re tending to some treats he requested for the room, a platter of sweets and fresh tea. When he waltzes into the room in a daze, amazed at your skill in pastry making once again. He checks behind him and closes the door.

“You, my love, will be the death of me.” Katsuki sighs, taking a bite out of a fresh fruit tart. He begins placing three sugar cubes into the glass to his right and one in his own, with a clink. You’re a sweet thing and your taste in tea is no different.

“Hmm? How so?” You ponder, stretching your shoulders.

Katsuki pulls off the shirt he’s wearing, a new one, to reveal multiple splotches of red and purple across his skin. Your mouth falls agape, in awe. You reach out to him, lightly smoothing the pads of your fingers over the bruising. Part of you feels guilty while something crude in your mind grins at the sight.

“Oh- fuck- I’m sorry! I got carried away.” You mumble, making a note to receive a fresh pack of ice to tend to it soon.

“It’s fine, asswipe.” He rolls his eyes.

It wasn’t the normal for the two of you. You’d never done that before. A peck on the lips here or there, occasionally if he was leaving off somewhere he’d kiss you harder, but you’d never gone that far before. Never had you’d allowed the beast in your soul to begin taking over, for a short amount of time. But god, you craved it again, again, again. He’d never find that out though, certainly. As you’d keep it locked away tight in the confines of your mind.

You return back to your duties for the day and do indeed make sure he receives a pack of ice for the bruising. He thanks you with another eye roll but you miss the way he stares at your body as you walk away. The day is filled with miscellaneous tasks such as tidying your own cabin, clearing plates and dusting the halls of the castles. As you approach the dining area, tea cups and kettle in hand, you overhear conversation.

“And what in heavens name is that on your collar, Katsuki?” His mother inquires, clearly unhappy. The metal clinks against the glass plates as someone sets a utensil down.

“Burned myself when I was working on blacksmith skills, damn.” Katsuki bites back.

“Uh-huh. I don’t believe you, have you been with Lillia?” She wonders loudly, taking a last bite of her dinner.

Your chest stings at the thought but you remind yourself that it is not your place. The dining area smells of fresh roast and potatoes, drizzled in gravy, and light dust from workers walking in and out of the room.

“Now why the hell would I be with her? I told you, I don’t like any of them, fuck off.” He grits, taking a gulp of water as he does so.

You take this as your chance to enter the room,  tea tray in hand. As you do, you give Katsuki a pointed look, before placing the tray on the center of the table and grabbing any excess dishes to hand off to the dishwashers. Katsuki grabs a sweet off the tray and places it, not so gently, onto the smaller plate in front of him.

“These are amazing, my favorite.” He murmurs, grabbing three sugar cubes and placing them in the tea cup.

His parents watch in awe as he does so, only to see him realize his mistake and take two out, putting them back in the glass container full of the little cubes. He grabs the fresh mesh sachel of herbs, tossing them into the ceramic and slowly pours piping hot water over them. The small spoon to his right is used to stir the sugar in and he waits for it to steep.

“Thanks, y/n.” He says, and you begin walking away with the dishes after a quick nod of your head.

“Dear god the tension in this room is so thick I can cut it with a fucking knife!” His mother gawks, flabbergasted at the sight in front of her. Her own tea has began to steep by this point and you continue making your way to the exit of the dining hall. As soon as you walk through the door, a sigh of relief escapes your lips and your mouth speaks without your permission.

“Fuck.” You groan, leaning against the castle wall.

It is later, with the sun saying goodbye as it sets across the horizon, you sit after a fresh washing in a floral nightgown. A knock at your door startles you, until you hear the familiar grunt of Katsuki’s presence. Swiftly, you make your way to the door and open it with a creak.

You couldn’t really complain about your job, working at the castle. You were provided with a cabin, with all the essentials and excellent thick blankets to accommodate for winter. Your pay was small, but gave you more than enough to buy necessities and some amount of décor to keep your humble home looking alive. Possibly the best part, however, was the small garden like are that came with the cabin, fenced in. You spent all of your first pay, years ago, buying essential seeds and garden accessories. It truly helped more than anyone could ever imagine when times were tough.

Katsuki steps in, taking care to lock the door behind him as he kicks his shoes off and begins taking the unnecessary items off of his body. He keeps the earrings, though, that are shaped like moons and cling to his ears in a cuff. The thin gold chain stays wrapped around his neck, but everything else is taken off and tossed to the side. He pulls down the backpack like tote from over his shoulder and places it on the floor, along with a big paper bag that crinkles as it sits.

“Whatcha doin?” You wonder, reaching your hands around his back to pull off the thick belt his parents make him wear.

“Brought a couple things, wanted ta see you. We only got a couple  hours today and I’ve been gone for a fuckin’ week.” He grumbles and begins reaching into the bag.

You head to the small sofa to your right, picking up a steeping cup of chamomile tea off of the coffee table in front of you and sitting down.  The sofa is a little rough, but you bought a nice throw pillow or two and some plush blankets to increase comfort. You take joy that Katsuki has never mentioned the state of your home, except when you first began living there. He was an ass about it, then, but only because you had no allowance for food in your budget that week and he thought you were god awful at budgeting due to it.

He sits with you, propping his feet on the table and pulls out a fresh container full of pot roast for you to eat. Next, a bunch of seeds and fertilizer for your garden. Finally, he reaches deep into the bag and pulls out a thin, long box with velvet across the top of it. His name is engraved atop it, in gold lettering.

Your brows quirk up at that, body perking at the idea of what could be in that box. Your prayers to the stars are answered when he opens it to reveal a thin, dainty anklet. Gold, like a chain, with rubies in the shape of diamonds grace it.  There’s a thin plate, with his name engraved into it on one side and on the other, it says “to eternity”. Your jaw begins to drop as confusion and shock spreads its wings across your face. He picks it up with thick fingers, and then grabs the inside of your calf, pulling it to the side and lifting up your foot. It’s subtle, the anklet. Not many will notice what it is, or care enough to see that it’s even there.

His fingers fiddle with the little piece of jewelry and you realize he is nervous as he fixes it around your left ankle.

And oh, Katsuki is. He’s so fucking nervous he feels like his heart is going to explode. None of his lucky stars told him it would be this terrifying to do something like this. No one warned him about the way his palms would sweat, the room would heat up, and his heart would lurch into his throat and make him want to run. But you’re everything he’s ever wanted, ever needed in life. He’s never been good with words, never been affectionate, and god he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you’re around. His soul suddenly feels fragile, like it never has before. As if it is a thin cylinder of glass in the palms of your dainty hands, that could shatter at any moment. You’re looking at him, confused, pretty little mouth open and cup of tea still in hand.

When he finishes, he thinks about saying he’s going to take a bath. But his hair is still wet from the one he just took in his own home. He only had all that junk on because his mother didn’t want him walking out of the castle without it.  So when his eyes meet yours, he croaks. He means to speak, means to tell you all the things he loves about you. From your hair, your nose, lips, personality, love for nature- everything. But he doesn’t, he just wordlessly gawks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

Your lips are on his, hot and heavy. Your cup of tea is all but forgotten as you smacked it down on the table. It has taken you both 8years to get to this point, four to be exact. Never did you think you’d be launching yourself onto the princes lap and trying to press your very souls together. He gasps out in shock and you lay purchase on his chest, sliding your hands under his shirt and up, touching anything you can get your hands on. Your lips trail down his jaw, behind his ear, and the expanse of his neck.

His throat feels like it’s going to close up, blood hot from your body pressing against his. One of your legs swings over onto each side of him, pressing your middles together while you leave more purple bruises up and down his throat. Both of your middles are hot, you think you might melt into him. Like hot lava, that same electricity jolts through your body as you’d accidentally pressed your crotches together and rocked forward. And oh, that felt good. He’s making noises underneath you, fingers digging into the skin of your plush bum and he thinks he’s going to hell in a handbasket.

And he’ll do it happily if he dies like this.

Your nightgown leaves little to the imagination, which certainly doesn’t help him out in this situation. He’s as hard as a rock and never experienced pleasure on this plane of existence before. Typically pleasure for him was spending a little time tucked away in his bedroom, with his hand and his imagination. He never really thought about anything, though. Occasionally he’d think about the way your lips felt on his and begin to wander with those thoughts, before calling  himself a an uncouth man and avoiding it. His parents never really talked with him about.. pleasure so to speak. They spoke of lying with someone as a chore, a duty, never mentioning that it could be pleasurable even once.

But now? He’s addicted to you. His body feels hot all over as you lightly grind the your clothed crotch against his own. His trousers are thin, as are your undergarments and he thinks he’s going to explode because you’re wet. You’re so wet you’re beginning to seep through the thin fabric of your plain, cotton panties and he thinks he’s on fucking fire. He can feel it. Your lips and tongue are all over his neck and he’s breathing heavier than he did when training for hours in the summer heat.

He’s spent his entire life chasing a high only to find that his one and only drug is feeling in love. And god, he needs his fix of you, or he’ll go mad and destroy kingdoms until the day he dies searching for you. His body feels like it’s been pulled on a string, the center of his chest lighter than it has ever been in his twenty four years of life, may he forever feel this.

Your break away from him to take a moment to breathe and in the process yank off his shirt. Muttering “I need to see you or I’ll die” and he swears he hears you whisper the words “so beautiful” when it finally comes off. Your arms wrap around, up under his own to drag your nails down the planes of his back. He lets out a gasp, sitting up and flipping you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t hurt. You look at him like he created the constellations in the sky and he almost cries when you moan. His cherry eyes, deep and startling, rake down the picture of you and focus on your lips.

They’re puffy, slick with spit and he needs a taste or he’ll starve to death.

By the time his lips are on yours, your lips flutter shut and he’s muttering out praise between kisses. Your nimble fingers slide into his hair and grip like you’ll float away without it. His hips kick forward at that, sliding against your covered and slick folds in the process. A moan falls off your lips and it wraps its lustful embrace around his throat because he makes a strangled noise. The deities, whomever, whatever they are must be real because he’s experiencing euphoria and heaven and hell all at once and it must be punishment and reward for his past lives.

“You’re so fucking- fuck” He gets out, and when you hear a whimper leave his lips something takes a hold of you like you’re a puppet.

Your hands move on their own, reaching down between you,  for you to do something licentious, that if anyone in the kingdom knew about they’d call you names. And they make their way between your bodies, gripping onto his erection and moving your palm up and down a little. It isn’t a lot but it’s enough that Katsuki moans like he’s desperate and almost in pain. His fingers find stability in the plush blanket beneath you and he grips for dear life.  And oh, my god, you feel the electricity in the air now. You can almost see it.

You’ve never wanted something so bad as you want him. In every meaning of that word, you want him. You yearn for him to claim your body like it is his, and only his, and you’d die happy. His fingers release their death grip on the blanket and instead, one hand trails up your night gown while the other props his thumb on your cheek. Your body is hot all over and you already need another bath after this, you think. You’re not thinking clearly, fog clouds your discretion and you begin acting rather than thinking. Inhibition lowered, you guide his thumb to your lips and palm at him a bit more roughly.

His jaw drops open at the sight in front of him. Your hair is a mess, nightgown hiked up, and you begin to suck on his thumb with spit slick lips. Your eyes peer into the depths of  his soul as you do it, half lidded, and intentional. It is lewd, provocative, and he’s on cloud nine. Your ministrations are becoming more sure, more certain with every second that passes by as sounds leave him. But he’s always been a bit competitive, a little proud, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you feel good, too.

Your lips forget their task when his fingers press between your soaked, cloth-clad, folds. A sound you didn’t know you could make tells him he should keep going and he begins testing the waters. First he moves up and down, from the top to bottom, in the center, and you respond okay to it. It feels good but like something is missing. So, he tries something new, using two fingers to work in circular motions, feeling around. Something about it feels right even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

Your hips jolt, legs shaking and you begin singing expletives in response to his movements. His cock jumps in his pants with every sound you make and it takes everything in him not to jolt forward and press the tip of it against the heat in front of him. At this point, you’re biting on your lip, when you use your hands to yank him closer to you, nails digging in. He continues working you and you find sanity by biting as hard as you can into his shoulder, hiccupping from pleasure that is so good it almost hurts.

“Fuck- I love you. God I love you .” Katsuki pushes out, voice hoarse and searching for your response.

When you say it back, you repeat it like a broken record. Hiccuping, as a tears begin to well in your eyes from how good you feel. But you could feel better and you know you could. You both know you could and fuck it. You both need this. You’re addicts who can’t stop getting high off of one another’s scent and existence. Inhaling sweet fruit tart like aromas you both can’t get enough of. Your lungs burn when he isn’t around, your body aching and begging for the love of your life to come closer again. You’ve never been a romantic, never in your life, but this has to be love because you’d rid of every star in the goddamn sky to make room for him to be the brightest.

The sun pales in comparison to what happens next.

You squirm under his touch and remove his hand, he pauses, confused. Worry walks its way across his face and his mouth opens to say something until you hook your fingers into your panties and begin sliding them down. The moment he realizes where you’re taking this, he loses all control of himself and rips the side of them so that they hang off of your right ankle. You take pride in how desperate he becomes when he searches your eyes for an answer. You confirm and he is holding onto his sanity with a very thin string.

The string is going to snap one day, and, when it does, he’s going to take everything his kingdom has to offer and give it to you. He’ll search every corner of the earth and give you anything you wish for.

“I want you inside me, Katsuki” You whimper out and the string gets pulled a little tighter, a little closer to snapping.

“Oh my god.” He groans, yanking his own bottoms off and crawling between your legs.

Katsuki figures you’ve never done this, like him, but he read a book once that said it can hurt if you’re not prepared. So he starts slow, with one finger, sliding it in and out. One finger becomes two and he begins feeling around until a certain “come here” motion has you throw your head back and gasp. Your legs begin to shake and he’s so unbelievably in love, he realizes. Because as much pleasure as it brings him, he thinks about getting you another pillow so your head won’t hurt.

“You’re-“ You gasp, and he sits back on his heels.

He grip his cock with a firm hand at the base, pushing the tip in and he’s big. He’s so much bigger than you’d thought. You’re so full, to the brim, going to spill over if he keeps going and it stings but you don’t want him to stop. You can’t fathom this high ever ending.

He begins talking you through it, while he tries to grab onto the last little inkling of his sanity.

“Such a good girl- so good- you can do it baby you can do it.” He mutters out, kissing all over your face.  When his fingers come down to work in circular motions, you’re done for. Something has you pulled up by rope and everything goes black for a moment, and you’re floating. Nothing in the world matters as much as him, to you. Nothing matters except here and now where he’s got his length fully pressed to the hilt in side of you.

When you start squeezing inside of him, repeatedly, his hips speed up, and he realizes he’s going to cum. His mouth betrays him and he starts rambling on, desperate for release. His hips frantically smacking into yours as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. You keep saying you love him, that he’s good, that he’s perfect, muttering it all to yourself and you don’t realize he can hear it all. The praise fills his veins and courses through his heart like it is made to be there. It has made itself a home in his soul and he will never let it go. He doesn’t care if he has to lock it down in a cage and throw the key away.

“Gonna make you mine-you’re mine. My pretty girl, my love, g’nna steal the stars in the sky n give ‘em to you- fuck, you’re so pretty, I love you, love you.” He rambles, filling you to the brim with cum.

The pair of you sit after and bask in post-sex glow. You’re going to take the water from the sea and find a way to turn it to wine, so he’ll understand how drunk you get off of looking at his eyes. You’re going to give him anything and everything he’s ever wanted in this world because he is all you have ever wanted.  The moon sits high in the sky, watching over the two lovers she blessed herself, gracing them. You’re going to start a shrine out of gratefulness, for him.

His hair looks like the sunrise and his eyes remind you of cherries straight off the plant, attitude like fire and chili peppers, and his body is made of only the most beautiful minerals.

He looks like he’s going to cry when he has to leave early that morning, to tend to all of his duties. But he kisses you hard before he goes, saying he’ll miss you like the stars miss their loved one when it goes nova. And when you watch him walk away flowers bloom in your chest. The thorns prick at your heart and you tell them it’s okay. He leaves straightens his shoulders, keeps his eyes forward and walks  through the castle halls later that day with a grin. His parents begin to chastise him for being out late again and he promptly tells them to kick rocks.