#something something. a warrior surrendering his body to you something something

[momo-kageyama]

The Empire That Curved for you

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Anime : One Piece

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Male version of Boa Hancock x R.femele.

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You, innocent, free and spontaneous, arrived at Hancock Island like a chaotic breeze that challenged the order of your controlled world.

He - the proud and lonely emperor - tried to resist... but his purity disarmed him.

First with curiosity. Then with soft touches. And finally, with full delivery.

In the bath, you provoked him without knowing it.

In the bedroom, he surrendered with reverence.

And in the climax, he made you his own, not only with the body, but with the soul.

He marked you. He took you. He sealed you.

"Now you belong to me...

Not as a prisoner.

But as part of me."

You are the chaos that tamed the beast.

And he is the god who would burn the world just to keep you by his side.

____________________________________________

— Amazon Solis Island - The Emperor's Palace

The golden sun touches the marble staircases of the palace like fire fingers, reflecting on the thin fabrics that swing between columns covered with exotic flowers. Colorful birds fly over the island. An isolated paradise, ruled by him.

Good Hancock - now a man - observes from above, from her royal balcony. Tall, imposing, with black hair trapped in a low bun, adorned with golden threads. He wears a scarlet tunic that leaves his strong chest exposed, marked by tribal tattoos and a dark gold necklace in the shape of a rolled snake.

And below, walking free like the wind, is you.

Barefoot.

Smiling at everything.

As if the world had no weight.

You run through the palace gardens, enchanted with a new fruit - something between a melon and a pineapple - and bite it with such joy that you seem to have discovered a treasure.

- "This is DELICIOUS!!" - you shout, with your mouth full.

High up there, the emperor smiles. A smile that doesn't match your cruel fame.

- "So carefree..." - he murmurs.

- "So free..."

He goes down the steps slowly, his steps echoing like soft thunder in the marble. The crowd of Kuja warriors bows to his passage, but you... no.

You look at him with big, innocent eyes, dirty with fruit juice.

- "Hi! Did you see this here? It looks like normal fruit, but it's like... explosive inside! And refreshing!" - you smile, offering a piece with your dirty hand.

He stops. Face your hand.

You offered food to an emperor with smeared fingers.

And he... accepts.

Everyone around trembles.

But him? He just licks his fingers calmly.

- "Delicious." - he says, but looking straight into your eyes.

You laugh, without understanding the double meaning.

And he feels.

He feels something dangerous growing in his chest.

—————

Later, you are alone in the main hall. The wind blows the curtains, the sky slowly darkening. He approaches behind you, and his presence is overwhelming.

- "Do you know who I am, Y/N?" - he asks, low, almost in your ear.

- "You are Hancock, the Emperor of Cobra Island! Everyone here respects you a lot!"

You turn around, smiling.

- "But I like it better when you smile like that... like, when you eat fruit with me!"

He closes his eyes for a moment.

- "You're too free." - he says, firm.

- "And you're too serious." - you reply, without thinking.

He laughs. A dry, almost cynical laugh.

- "You disarm me, Y/N. That scares me. That holds me."

You tilt your head, confused. He holds your chin with two fingers, gently.

- "I could have any woman, any throne. But all I want... is your attention. Your laugh. Your lightness."

- "I want you here. Always. On my side."

- "Like my companion."

You choke a little.

- "Partner? Like... of adventures?"

- "Kind of... bed." - he completes, without looking away.

You paralyze. He sees her confusion and closes his eyes in pain.

- "Sorry." - he retreats, but his body trembles.

- "You're too pure. And I... too dirty inside. I would destroy your freedom."

You're getting closer, now more serious.

- "You don't arrest me, Hancock."

- "I stay because I want to."

And with his fingertips, he wipes a tear that he didn't even know he had dropped.

He shudders. No one has ever touched him like that. No fear. No ulterior motives. Just... you.

He hugs her from behind, the big body wrapping his carefully. Your breath hits the back of your neck. It's a restained hug, but desperately needy.

— "Stay, Y/N. Only tonight."

You don't answer.

But don't move away.

——————

The night fell like dark silk on the island.

You are sitting on one of the soft cushions of the royal room, bare feet on the cold polished stone floor. Around, scented torches cast dancing shadows on the walls. Translucent curtains move with the night breeze, revealing and hiding the huge canopy bed covered by dark wine sheets.

Hancock watches you in silence. He is standing, with his back to the door, without armor, wearing only an open kimono on his chest. His golden skin shines under the light. He doesn't speak.

Just look at you.

The look is not lascivious.

It's dangerous because it's so contained.

You get up slowly. The curious eyes, without malice.

- "You're weird today... you're breathing heavily. Do you have a fever?" - you approach, touching his forehead with the palm of your hand.

He closes his eyes for a second.

The touch is simple.

But for him, it's devastating.

- "It's not fever..." - he says, opening his eyes. - "It's you."

You frown.

He smiles lightly. A tired smile, as if fighting against his own body.

- "You don't understand what you do to me. Your voice, your smell, the way you laugh... it destroys me. It makes me want to... take you."

You take a step back, not out of fear. For fright.

He takes a deep breath and approaches.

Touch your chin with your long fingers, but don't pull.

- "I won't force anything." - he whispers. - "But if you say yes... it won't be just a kiss."

You feel something tremble inside you. A strange heat. Curious.

You don't understand everything he feels, but something about him... attracts you.

Maybe it's the way he looks at you. As if you were the only pure thing in a dirty world.

As if, by touching you, he himself could be purified.

You whisper, almost out of breath:

- "Just... kiss me, then."

His kiss is not abrupt.

It's deep, controlled, full of reverence.

But soon the restraint begins to collapse.

He pulls you by the waist hard, sticking your body to his. You feel the tension in your muscles, the desire shaking in every gesture. His hand slides down your back, slowly, carefully, until it rests at the end of your spine. Your lips move in yours with increasing urgency.

You moan softly. He paralyzes.

- "If I do this again... I won't be able to stop." - he warns, with his forehead glued to his.

- "So it doesn't stop." - you say, not knowing what you're authorizing, but trusting him.

He lays you on the bed with an almost ceremonial care. His fingers slide through your body like someone who writes verses about living skin.

He kisses your neck, your lap, your shoulders, as if he were learning to love with his hands.

- "I'll play you as if you were made of music..." - he murmurs.

- "... and every note will be only mine."

The night becomes a whisper of sheets, sighs and fixed looks.

He doesn't rush you.

But also don't disguise how much he wants you.

Your body learns his, and his molds to yours, like waves bending to the beach.

——————

—After...

You fall asleep on his chest.

And he stays awake.

With his hand on his waist, he whispers in the dark:

- "Now that I've tasted you... there's no more freedom."

- "You're mine. Even if you don't know. Even if you run away."

- "I would expect a thousand lives... but I would never let another touch you."

And with a light kiss on his forehead, he closes his eyes.

But his desire?

This one doesn't sleep.

—————————————————————————

—Amazon Solis Temple Bath

The sound of the water falls like warm rain in the sacred environment of light stone. Small flowers float on the surface, while steam rises in soft spirals. Everything is silence, except for the light laugh that escapes from your lips as you dip your fingers in the water.

You are naked, with your body covered only by water up to your shoulders. The wet hair runs down the back.

He is behind you, submerged to the waist, his hair stuck in a loose bun, his body huge, motionless... watching.

You turn around with a smile:

- "You're very serious, Hancock! Look at this!"

You splash water on it. A splash hits his chest.

You laugh.

Not he.

His eyes follow his skin with silent hunger.

But he locks his jaw. Take a deep breath. Close your fists.

You approach, still laughing, and put a flower on his shoulder.

- "Now you look like a handsome spring general."

- "Or a rice decorated... with cherry blossom!"

You laugh at your own joke.

He remains silent.

Until your breasts touch his chest. By accident.

You don't even notice.

But he... freezes.

Breathing stops.

The flower falls from his skin and sinks slowly.

He takes a hand to your face, gently. But his look... is no longer calm.

- "You're playing with something you don't understand."

- "Huh? I'm just having fun, hey..." - you answer, innocent, laughing with foam on your cheek.

- "I think of you, Y/N." - he whispers, touching his forehead to yours.

- "All the time. Lying, wet, moaning my name."

You widen your eyes, your face blushing.

He holds his waist under the water, firmly.

- "And every time you smile like this, free... light... happy... I see a thousand hands trying to tear you away from me."

You try to retreat, but he holds you firmly against his chest.

His hot skin against yours makes your body vibrate.

- "Hancock...?"

- "I hate the world outside."

- "Because he can take you."

Silence.

The sound of the water falling in the background. The steam between you.

And his hand now goes up slowly up his thigh, underwater, almost shaking.

- "You provoke me without knowing it."

- "And one day... I won't be able to just look."

Your eyes meet.

And at that moment, you realize.

Realize the desire.

The fury.

And the fear of losing you, all mixed in such a strong man - and so vulnerable only with you.

You lean your forehead against his chest.

- "I'm not leaving." - you say, whispering against the wet skin.

- "Not today."

He closes his eyes. Breathe in your smell.

And for the first time, he lets a low moan escape.

- "Then let me touch you. Slowly."

You just nod.

And the water stops being hot.

Because the heat now... comes from both of you.

———————

The warm water runs down Hancock's wide back as he remains motionless in the stone bathtub, his eyes fixed on you - asleep now, wrapped in sheets and the steam that still fills the room. But your mind is far away. Very far away...

He closes his eyes.

And remember.

————————

Exchange Room - Hot Afternoon on the Island

You were changing for a banquet, after a training with the Kuja warriors. The half-open door, the afternoon breeze carrying the sound of her distracted humming voice.

Hancock - who had just come to get a ceremonial necklace - entered without announcing.

And you suddenly turned.

Totally naked.

For a second, time stopped.

You too.

But he didn't scream.

He didn't even cover himself.

His eyes went down, slowly...

Even him.

You frowned with a purely curious expression, too innocent to realize the impact it caused.

- "That... always looks like this when you look at me?" - you asked, pointing to the evident volume under his clothes.

He couldn't answer.

You approached, barefoot, with your hair glued to your neck still wet from the bath. He looked down, his eyes narrowing like someone who analyzes a biological mystery.

And then...

He touched.

With fingers still cold.

Slow.

Like someone who touches something sacred.

He moaned low - almost a swallowed prayer.

You didn't back down.

On the contrary... exploited.

With light touches, almost joking. Squeezed, smoothed, like those who test texture, temperature, shape.

- "It's hot... it pulses... it looks like it's going to explode..." - you murmured with wide eyes.

- "Does it hurt?"

He was tense. The contracted muscles. The heavy breathing. The blurred vision.

- "Y/N..." - he said, with a hoarse voice, almost begging.

But when you knelt - not out of submission, but out of pure curiosity - he lost control of his own body.

You looked up, still innocent, still smiling:

- "Is it possible to put it in my mouth?"

And before he could stop her, you did.

No fear.

Without technique.

But with the same sweet and intense fascination he showed when exploring new fruits, maps and stars.

And that...

It was the first time Hancock knew hell and paradise at the same time.

———————

—Back to the present...

He opens his eyes, still in the shower, with you sleeping in bed.

The desire comes back like a tide.

But now... mixed with fear.

Because you're too sweet.

And him? Too dark inside.

"You touched me without knowing that you possessed me."

"And now... even if I wanted to... I couldn't return you to the world."

He gets up, gets out of the water.

And walks to you.

Without making noise.

But with the heart roaring inside the chest.

He lies down behind you.

Kiss your neck, soft.

And whispers:

- "If one day you leave me... I won't know who I am."

———���—————————————————————

Night in Amazon Solis

He's on you.

The room is immersed in shadows, illuminated only by the low flames of the torches. His breath weighs on your neck. The strong body presses yours, but with reverence. With each slow, deep thrust, he whispers promises that go beyond the flesh.

- "You feel, don't you?" - he says through his teeth, his voice stroked.

- "The way my body looks for yours. As if... he knew that you are the only place where I want to exist."

You answer with a low moan. Your legs intertwine with his. Your eyes are watery - not from pain, but from something bigger. Delivery. A strange desire to belong.

He holds your face with both hands, gluing his forehead to his.

- "Tonight... you won't just be my lover."

- "It will be... mine."

- "My eternally."

His body vibrates under his when he continues, deeper. More tense. As if something inside him was on the verge of explosion - not only physical, but spiritual.

- "Accept everything from me." - he moans, his voice deep and hoarse.

- "My heat. My essence. My name, my curse, my love."

You hold him by the shoulders, scratching, pulling, almost crying with such intensity.

And then he stops. For a moment.

Look into your eyes.

And swears:

"I give you my seeds...

Not only to create life.

But to link your soul to mine.

So that no dimension, time or god can take you away from me."

And then he moves one last time, with strength, desire and reverence.

Your whole body responds. His too.

The explosion is not only physical. It's as if the world collapsed around.

He remains on you, panting, with his face buried in your neck, his body shaking.

And there, between sweaty sheets and whispered oaths, you are no longer two.

——————

Then, he takes you in his arms to the inner altar of the temple. Naked, wrapped only in a light mantle, you are marked with a symbolic trace in dark paint, drawn by him in the center of your womb.

- "This symbol... is the fusion between your name and mine. Now, you carry the seal of my clan... and of my heart."

You touch his chest.

- "And you carry something of mine too."

He smiles. Not with arrogance. But with peace.

—————————————————————————

[velorvm]

FINGER GAME can i be predictable and ask abt phainon hehe

FINGER GAME BC IM NOTHING BUT PREDICTABLE LMAOO anyway, phainon huh

let me preface this by saying, i'm not caught up to the story, so details might be ooc <//3

in some way, i think phainon loves touching you in general. loves tracing your facial features and letting his fingertips hover over your fluttering pulse (will definitely use this to his advantage ngl), almost like he wants to make sure you're alive and well and existing within his orbit. he has to be touching you in some way, always. his favorite way is to intertwine his fingers with yours, to him, it feels like one could not get any closer than that (unless he's doing other stuff ofc, but he cant just do that LMAO) he also loves it so much when you're the one initiating touching him. loves the way your fingers feel against his skin, warm and firm. to me, he loves it the most when you're caressing his neck and throat, as those spots are the most vulnerable ones for a warrior, meaning he trusts you fully and truly, leaving his life in your hands.

in my mind, he's a fingering fiend. just wants to touch you and watch you squirm under his touch, to get you limp and pliable underneath him as he works you over and over again. he takes such good care of you, knowing how to touch you to get you where you need to be. he works you open so well, because his fingers are big and rough and calloused. ngl, also loves to taste you afterwards, licking your juices off of his fingers. in the same vein as the vulnerability, he cums so fast when you're to one touching him and wrapping your fingers around him. it just gets him going when you're so careful with him as you take care of his needs. is totally willing to surrender himself fully to you as you work him to climax after climax. the fact that you can easily make him unravel with a few strokes and touches is something he cannot get over, ever.

ngl, he loves sucking your fingers and he's so messy with it, too. it's the loyalty and the fact that he wants to serve and please you. so he gives it his all, kissing, licking, biting. he gets so incredibly into it, especially if he can taste you or himself on your fingertips. will groan and begin to dryhump when he's sucking your fingers and drools all over you. not even your palm is safe, as he will lick between your fingers and over your hand. gets even harder if he can leave bitemarks or small bruises over your hands during it. also, he will get incredibly hard if you're the one sucking his fingers. it's the fact that he surrenders himself to you completely combined with the wetness and warmth, which makes his imagination wander. if you leave some marks on him, he will be so hard he might explode and he will carry that mark like some kind of trophy.

(fingers <3)

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

𝜗ৎ. 🍓 FALLING FOR WAR ?!

ໃ𑄺. paring : god of war mydei x mortal warrior male!reader

ໃ𑄺. synopsis : You are nothing but a mortal warrior—fragile, fleeting, and yet, you have defied the God of War himself. Mydei has crushed entire civilizations under his heel, yet no matter how many times he cuts you down, you rise again, bloodied but unbroken. He should end you, make an example of your defiance, but instead, he finds himself enthralled. Your stubbornness is infuriating, your resilience intoxicating. So, he decides to break you in a different way, to make you surrender, not to war, but to him. And when he finally has you beneath him, trembling and breathless, you realize that even the strongest warriors can fall.[GOD OF WAR SERIES.] ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

ໃ𑄺. warnings : nsfw/smut, man handling, size kink, rough mydei, anal sēx, mild dumbification, multiple of rounds, semi-public sēx, creampie, blowjob, face sitting (reader reviving), praise, degradation, squirting, mild dubcon and slūt shaming.

ໃ𑄺. note : this took forever to write because its my first time writing male reader.

You should have died days ago.

Maybe weeks.

Time blurred together in the haze of blood and broken bones.

Again and again, Mydei’s sword had torn you open. Again and again, his fist had driven you into the dirt like a nail.

And yet — every morning, you rose. Breathless. Shaking. But unbroken.

A mortal.

Frail. Weak.

You shouldn’t have been able to survive this long.

"You don't know when to fall, do you?" Mydei snarled today, golden armor gleaming with the blood of your comrades, his towering form looming over your battered body. "Pathetic little thing. You should be begging me to finish it."

Instead, you grinned up at him, cracked lips pulling into a bloody, stubborn smile.

"You’ll have to try harder...god."

Something inside him—something dark, something ancient—snapped.

In an instant, he was on you, sword clattering to the ground as he grabbed your throat, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. His hand nearly wrapped around your whole neck, the size difference dizzying.

"You want harder, little mortal?" he growled against your ear, breath hot, hungry. "Then beg for it."

You tried to speak—tried to curse him—but your vision blurred from the pressure.

And gods, you hated it—hated the way your body reacted, cock stirring against the ruined fabric of your pants, heat pooling deep in your gut.

Mydei saw it.

Of course he did.

A slow, predatory grin stretched across his face. "Tch. Look at you. Getting hard just from being manhandled like a filthy little slut."

With a crash, he slammed you against a nearby stone pillar, the impact rattling your bones, the world tilting. Before you could recover, he shoved you down to your knees.

"You’re not a warrior," he sneered, grabbing your hair and forcing your face against the bulge straining his armor. "You’re weak."

You whimpered, shame burning under your skin—and still, you opened your mouth obediently when he tugged open his belt.

His cock was massive, just like the rest of him—thick, heavy, the kind of thing that would tear a man apart.

And yet... when he tapped it against your lips, smearing precum across them like a brand, you leaned in.

"Tch. Desperate little thing," Mydei growled. "You pretend you're strong... but all it takes is a real god to put you in your place."

He forced himself between your lips, groaning deep in his chest when your throat struggled to take him. You gagged, eyes watering, gripping his thighs for balance as he set a brutal pace, fucking your mouth without mercy.

Each thrust made your vision dance with stars, your nose pressed against his musky skin, the taste of salt and sweat flooding your senses.

"My stubborn little warrior..." he rasped, voice thick with arousal. "Look at you. All that pride... and you're drooling over my cock like a common whore."

Tears ran down your cheeks—whether from the choking or the humiliation, you couldn't tell.

You hated him.

You hated him so much it hurt.

And yet—your cock was throbbing, dripping precum into your ruined pants, aching for more.

Mydei pulled out with a wet pop, letting you collapse forward, gasping for air.

Before you could even think, he grabbed you again, turning you roughly, shoving your chest against the pillar.

"You wanted to fight me?" he snarled. "This is your reward."

With a brutal, merciless thrust, he speared into you, splitting you open in one stroke.

You screamed—half in pain, half in desperate, shameful pleasure—as he bottomed out inside you.

He was too big, stretching you until you felt like you might tear, the sensation riding the line between agony and ecstasy.

"F-fuck—!" you choked, fists pounding weakly against the pillar.

He just laughed, low and cruel, hips snapping forward with brutal force.

Each thrust knocked the breath from your lungs, his cock hammering deep, claiming you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the ruined temple around you—obscene, loud enough that anyone wandering nearby would hear.

And gods, the thought of it—of being caught like this, used like a ragdoll by the very god you tried to defy—made you clench around him, shame flooding you.

Mydei felt it.

"Filthy," he growled, slapping your ass hard enough to make you yelp. "Tightening up like a fucking whore just ‘cause you’re getting bred by a god."

You could barely think anymore—words slipping from your mouth in broken, needy sounds.

"F-fuck... please...!" you sobbed, hips moving on their own now, chasing every punishing thrust like an addict.

"That's it," Mydei growled, voice dark and triumphant. "Knew you’d fall eventually. Knew you’d break."

You didn't even notice him lifting you at first—didn't realize he was carrying you, impaled on his cock like a trophy, until your back slammed into another stone slab.

You whimpered, trembling in his grasp as he pounded into you even harder now, using his full strength, fucking you so deep it felt like you could taste him in your throat.

You were nothing but a ragdoll in his hands now, babbling, eyes rolling back, pleasure white-hot and brutal in your veins.

Your cock throbbed between your bodies, untouched, leaking precum in thick spurts against his stomach.

"You gonna cum, little warrior?" Mydei mocked, rutting into you with savage intensity. "Gonna cum just from getting your guts rearranged?"

You nodded frantically, unable to form words.

He laughed, low and cruel.

"Pathetic."

With a final, vicious thrust, he pushed you over the edge, and you screamed—squirting, cock pulsing, white spilling messily between your bodies.

You spasmed helplessly in his grasp, body clenching around his cock, milking him.

Mydei groaned deep in his chest, hips jerking erratically as he finally found his release, flooding you with hot, heavy ropes of cum, so much it leaked out around his cock and down your trembling thighs.

You slumped against him, boneless, mind numb and broken, gasping for breath.

And still, he held you there, impaled and stuffed full, grinding lazily into you, like he never wanted to pull out.

"Look at you," he murmured against your ear, voice almost tender now. "Mine."

You shivered—whether from fear or something darker, you didn’t know.

But as Mydei began to move again, slow and punishing, it became clear:

You had fallen.

Not to war.

Not to death.

But to him.

And you would never escape.

Mydei didn’t let you rest—not truly.

Every time you thought he’d had his fill, he dragged you back onto his cock, bruising you from the inside out, claiming you again and again.

You were his now.

Not a warrior.

Not a hero.

Just a conquered thing.

He lounged atop his fallen temple throne now, one powerful thigh thrown lazily over the stone armrest, golden armor glinting.

You were spread out across his lap, legs dangling over his knees, chest pressed to his stomach, stuffed full of him once again.

The god of war was massive underneath you, thick and twitching inside your ruined hole, still leaking hot seed from the last time he'd emptied himself into you.

"You’re lucky," Mydei rumbled, dragging a heavy hand down your back, the touch both mocking and fond. "Most mortals die screaming beneath my heel. You? You get to be kept."

You whimpered, grinding down helplessly, the tip of his cock pressing against something devastating deep inside you.

"Still hungry, are you?" he chuckled darkly. "Tch. Filthy little thing."

He grabbed your hips, lifting you easily, nearly pulling out—before slamming you back down again.

You cried out, body jerking, hands scrabbling weakly at his chest for balance.

"You belong here," he growled, bouncing you lazily on his cock, his hands gripping your waist so hard you knew you’d have bruises in the morning. "Split open on my cock where you were meant to be."

The worst part?

You loved it.

You fucking loved it.

Your cock throbbed between your bodies, smearing precum across the hard plates of his armor, soaking the golden sheen with your desperation.

"You were never a warrior," Mydei snarled, thrusting up into you so deep you screamed. "You're a fuck toy. A seat for your god."

As if to prove it, he shifted you—pinned you down against the throne now, forcing you onto your back, legs folded up to your chest.

The new angle made his cock drive impossibly deeper, battering your prostate with every brutal thrust.

"Take it," he hissed, sweat dripping from his temples. "Take your god like the desperate little thing you are."

Your mind was mush now—body shivering, drooling, mumbling incoherent prayers as he rutted into you like a beast.

Somewhere distant, you heard voices—soldiers passing the ruined temple gates, perhaps—but Mydei didn’t stop.

If anything, he fucked you harder, proud of ruining you where others could hear.

"You want them to see you?" he sneered, voice sharp as a blade. "Want them to see what happens when you defy the god of war?"

You could only sob and nod, your body betraying you completely.

With a growl, Mydei grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, the other spreading your thighs even wider, hips snapping like a piston.

"You’re mine now," he snarled into your mouth. "Say it."

You choked on a moan, words tumbling out between ragged gasps.

"M-mine—yours—fuck—yours—!"

He roared low in his chest, slamming into you one final time, cock twitching violently as he spilled inside you again—hot, thick, endless.

You felt it flood you, dripping out around him, filthy and perfect.

He didn't pull out.

Just stayed buried deep, panting against your neck, hips rocking lazily to keep you stuffed full of him.

"My pretty little ruin," he rasped, nipping your throat possessively. "I'll make sure you never walk again without remembering who broke you."

You whimpered brokenly, trembling in his grasp.

And when he shifted again—lifting your weak, pliant body to straddle his face, dragging you down onto his mouth—you didn't even fight.

Just sobbed out a needy, humiliated moan as he began to devour you, tongue forcing you into another helpless, overstimulated orgasm.

Squirting against his mouth, against his smirking lips, against the god who owned you now.

You had fallen.

Not with glory.

Not with honor.

But on your knees, trembling, broken—and utterly his.

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[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has a plan of action, but he needs to make sure you're a little distracted before he can proceed.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Today was exhausting," you whispered, pulling your legs up so you were sitting on Bradley's lap on the couch. His flight suit was a little scratchy, and you were still wearing your dress, but you yawned and nuzzled against his chest in surrender. "Please don't make me move yet."

You could feel and hear his laughter as one big hand came up to squeeze your shoulder before gliding down your side to your waist. "Make you move? I want to keep you with me forever, Gorgeous."

Did he know the extent to which his words excited you every time he said forever? You tried to play it cool, wrapping your arm around his waist, but as soon as his lips met your forehead in a gentle kiss, you whispered, "Forever sounds really good."

His posture stiffened a little bit as his fingers flexed on your waist. You could feel him fighting the urge to jump to his feet with you in his lap.

"What's wrong?" you asked, stifling another yawn.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, but you could tell he was antsy. "Just getting hungry."

"Of course you are," you murmured, letting your hand rest on his flat belly. He only took a quick lunch break earlier during Career Day before pulling off the flyover surprise that had your whole school buzzing with excitement. "I don't think you ate enough today. Let's remedy that."

"No," he insisted, pulling you back down when you tried to stand. "I can wait a bit longer. We were just getting comfortable."

"Mmm," you hummed. "Did you notice Marty and Ms. Masters earlier? I think there might be something there."

"I did notice," he whispered. "There has to be something there. He was looking at her the way I look at you."

With a smile on your lips, you felt yourself succumbing to the warmth of his body and his deep voice and his big hands.

Soon your eyes were closed, and you were drifting to sleep.

---------------------------

Bradley's growling stomach was the least of his concerns as you dozed in his arms and drooled on his Golden Warriors patch. You were clearly exhausted from how busy and emotional this week was. He'd only just returned from a mission where you and he hadn't spoken for weeks, and then you hosted Career Day at work. Hell, he was still tired, and he'd taken the week off from work.

He thought he had himself under control. He thought he would be able to bring you home and let you have a relaxing Friday night. After all, he was in no hurry. But as soon as you told him forever sounded really good, he felt his muscles coil with anticipation. His body told him to get up and prove to you that forever was what he needed. All he had to do was walk into the bathroom and get the engagement ring.

You seemed to be able to feel the energy he was trying to reel in even as you started to fall asleep. Tonight was not the night. Truly all he wanted to do was hold you until tomorrow morning and let you rest, but his foot was bouncing gently. There was always the chance you'd say no or that you weren't ready to be engaged yet, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. But previous conversations indicated otherwise, and he knew he was ready for everything.

His head tipped back against the couch in frustration. He should have told Nat that he wanted to propose sooner rather than later, but she didn't even know he actually had his mother's ring. His best friend would have riled him up more before helping him calm down.

After kissing your forehead a few times to test how asleep you were, he unzipped the side pocket of his flight suit and carefully removed his phone. You shifted a bit, and your nose twitched in the most adorable way, but you dozed on while he texted Nat to see if she could help him out tomorrow. She already told him numerous times that she liked hanging out with you.

"Bradley," you mumbled, arching your back and stretching as soon as he set his phone down on the couch. "You need dinner," you told him with a soft kiss before standing and reaching for him. He took your left hand in his right one, hoping this might be the last night that you weren't wearing the ring that would signify to everyone else that you'd be his wife someday.

"I came up with a plan while you napped," he said softly. "Dinner and then a shower together and then we'll get in bed early. You look so tired after nailing Career Day, Gorgeous. You need a little break."

His stomach growled obnoxiously. "And you need to eat," you told him with a laugh. "Come on. I'll make you something."

"Nope," he replied, gripping you tight as he stood up with you in his arms. "I'm going to take care of it."

You held on as you guided your legs around his waist. Your lips on his scarred cheek took him all the way back to the early days of those flirtatious emails. "Okay, handsome," you whispered, kissing him softly. "I'm not going to argue with you tonight. It's our first weekend with you back home, and I've been missing all of this. I'm finally off tomorrow, and we can relax all day."

When Bradley set you down on the kitchen counter with a kiss to your perfect lips, he heard your phone vibrating on the coffee table and tried not to grin as he asked, "Want me to grab that for you?"

"Please," you replied, looking beyond cute perched between the stove and the wilted bouquet in the makeshift Miller High Life vase. When he backtracked and picked up your phone, Bradley saw that the text notification was from Nat, and he knew he was going to have to take her out for another steak dinner soon as a thank you.

"Oh," you said when you tapped your screen. "Natasha texted me."

"Really?" he asked, feigning surprise as he took inventory of what the refrigerator had to offer. It was honestly a little scary how much he'd eaten since Monday.

"Yeah," you murmured, eyes skimming the message. "She thanked me for inviting her to Career Day. And," you added, giving him a cautious look, "she wants to know if I want to hang out with her tomorrow afternoon. We still have money left on the winery gift card."

"You should go," he urged, pulling everything out to make pancakes for dinner. "I love that my girl gets along with my best friend."

You were chewing your lip nervously. "Yeah?" you asked, thumbs poised like you were ready to type back. "Even though I literally just told you I can't wait to relax with you tomorrow?"

Bradley chuckled, knowing he was leading you in the direction he wanted you to go. But of course you'd be in good hands. "Gorgeous, we can still sleep in late. And as soon as you get home, I'm hoping you'll feel so in love, you'll want to cuddle with me for the rest of the night."

"I always feel so in love with you, Bradley."

He abandoned the eggs and butter as he whispered, "Say my name again?"

"Bradley."

It was another hour before the pancakes were ready.

-----------------------------------

"I thought we were going to sleep in," you whispered, lips brushing Bradley's as his hands explored your naked body. It was around the time you usually woke up for work, and you were still tired. But his words had you pushing him onto his back.

"I missed you so much, I'm still making up for lost time."

His hands were big and rough as you took them in yours and pinned them above his head. His body was beautiful in the early light, all muscular angles and ruddy cheeks. You kissed his biceps and then his stubbled cheek and then his lips. He was already hard, you could feel him. Bradley was strong and sexy, and he was yours.

"I'm not going to lie... I love how much you missed me," you told him before kissing your way along the side of his nose. "Because that's how much I missed you, too."

Bradley's kisses were sweet, yet they lingered. Your hips moved slowly against his body, setting the pace exactly how you wanted it. Your reaction to him was always effortless. His wide pupils let you know it was the same for him. 

"Baby," he whined as you tightened your hold on his wrists. He was rubbing himself up against you, looking for the friction you needed as well. Slick with arousal, your pussy welcomed the tip of him, and you rolled your hips slowly, taking him inch by inch until you were full. "Oh, fuck, Gorgeous," he rasped, lips parted as he looked up at you with those pretty brown eyes. "You feel so good."

You went slowly, and your hands eventually found their way to his shoulders. Bradley coaxed you closer until you were kissing him as you worked your hips in a steady rhythm that you knew would give you both what you wanted. You thought about every cold morning you woke up here without him while a bead of sweat rolled down along your spine. You got lost in the way he smelled and how his hair felt between your fingers. He was yours.

"I love you," he groaned. "Oh, I love you so much."

You came on his cock as your movements turned jerky, and he filled you with cum as you whimpered his name. Then you eased your body down so you were laying on top of him. "This is how I want to spend the rest of my life," Bradley whispered. "Loving you and fucking you and cuddling."

With a soft laugh, you relaxed enough to fall asleep again while he ran his fingers along your back.

The next time you woke up, it was three hours later, and Bradley wasn't in bed. He wasn't even at home. After you pulled on his sweatshirt, you found a note on top of the sandwich he made for your lunch in the refrigerator. 

Out for a quick run with Nat, and then I'm stopping at Home Depot for Edith. I love you.

You enjoyed your sandwich quietly in the kitchen while taking inventory of the grocery situation. Bradley already ate everything which made you smile. It would take a few weeks, but you'd make sure he bulked up again. Maybe you could get him to go shopping with you tomorrow morning.

When you sat down on the couch with your phone, you were pleasantly reminded of how sore you still were from the past few days with Bradley back from deployment. The gentle ache brought with it the memory of how much better your orgasms were with him than alone. You really needed to start getting dressed since you were sure Nat was going to want to head to the winery after they finished their run, but you stayed sprawled out on the couch until Bradley walked back inside.

"Hey, Gorgeous," he rasped, still a little sweaty in his gym clothes and carrying a bag from the hardware store. "You got enough rest?"

"I did," you giggled as he tossed the bag onto the coffee table and straddled your waist. "Do you think we should buy a bigger couch at some point?"

"Nah. This one's more fun," he replied as your fingers threaded through his damp hair. "Means I can get nice and close." 

Would this needy feeling for him ever go away? You hoped not. But just as soon as he really kissed you nice and hard, he was pulling away. Bradley smacked you lightly on your rear end where he spanked you the other night.

"You better get ready to go with Nat. And I need to fix Edith's mailbox and get my free piano lesson."

"And then when I get home, we're cuddling and watching a movie right here," you told him firmly, patting the couch cushion.

"As long as you still want to."

You rolled your eyes. Of course that's what you were going to want to do. Maybe you and he could even enjoy some more wine after you had wine with his friend. You were smiling as you thought about the plethora of wine you might be enjoying today as you got dressed in some jeans and an oversized sweater. You skipped makeup, because it was Saturday, and when Natasha arrived, you walked outside with Bradley.

"I love you. Call if you need me," he crooned, kissing you and waving before turning toward Edith's house.

You must have been watching the sexy way he walked for a little too long, because Natasha honked her horn and yelled out the window, "I want some wine!"

"Sorry!" you told her, laughing as you climbed in the passenger seat.

She was pulling away from the curb when she replied, "It's nice to see you so happy again. You seemed to have a good time at Career Day, and now you're all smiles for your boyfriend."

"I missed him so much," you said, watching Bradley get smaller in the side view mirror as she drove. "I felt instantly better when he got home from Norfolk."

"You're going to freak out later," she mumbled, making a left turn.

"What?" You weren't sure you'd heard her correctly.

"Nothing. You ready for some wine?"

"Absolutely. We can finish off the gift card," you told her. "And I found another winery for us to try next time that serves frozen wine slushies."

"That sounds like heaven. Thank god you fell in love with Bradley so we can have girls' days."

That put a permanent smile on your face. Just knowing that Natasha thought you and he were a good match really meant a lot. She'd known him for a long time.

"How was your run earlier?" you asked, settling in for the ride.

"Running in February is always better than running in July or August," she replied easily. "I might have to start bringing headphones again though, because the man will not shut up about you the whole time."

You covered your face with your hands while she laughed. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was so bad at times before he met you, I used to have to put my earbuds in and pretend I was listening to him complain about his exes. It was always the same thing. Nat, I don't know how to break up with her, but she's kind of mean to me. Nat, I can't keep taking her to the bar, because she flirts with everyone else. Nat, why is she being so selfish? Nat, I feel like she's just using me. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat." Her voice softened as she said, "It's not like that with you at all. Now he just wants to know if I think his date ideas sound stupid or romantic. And if I think he's crazy for already having you move in."

"What did you tell him?" you asked immediately.

She grinned as she switched lanes. "Trust me when I say I've given him some solid date ideas. And I told him he would have been miserable if he waited any longer to ask you to live with him. That man is so solidly in love with you, it is disgusting."

"The feeling is mutual," you whispered as your cheeks burned.

"I know. Now let's enjoy some wine while we talk shit about him. I've been way too nice today up to this point."

------------------------------------

When Natasha dropped you off after four hours of wine and conversation, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You were already looking forward to hanging out with her again soon.

"Want me to tell Bradley you'll run with him tomorrow morning?" you asked, leaning back in the passenger side door as you stood next to her car.

"Nope," she replied, shaking her head. "There's no way he's going to want to get up and run in the morning. Tell him I'll see him at work."

"Okay," you replied, confused by her thought process. Bradley usually liked getting his cardio workouts in with a partner rather than alone. You'd follow up with him about it in a minute. "Thanks for driving. Wine slushies next time?"

"Wine slushies next time. Enjoy your night," she said with a wink.

You waved as she drove off, the sky getting dark and the air cooling down even further around you. Edith's mailbox next door looked perfect once more, so Bradley must have finished that project. You shivered as you hustled up to your front door ready to get inside and into the warmth of his arms.

The living room was a little darker than usual when you walked in, and then you realized it was because the only light was coming from your candles which had been placed around the room. You were about to call out for Bradley and ask him why he was burning every single candle you brought with you when you moved in, but then you froze.

"Oh my god," you gasped, taking one stumbling step further into the room to get a closer look. The flickering light illuminated dozens and dozens of paper airplanes all folded up and taped to the dark blue wall above the couch. They were arranged beautifully, and you swallowed hard when you realized they spelled out a message.

MARRY ME?

It was just two words, but they took up the whole wall. Your fingers were shaking as you brought them up to your lips, and then you heard Bradley's voice.

"Hey, Gorgeous," came that familiar rasp. You turned to face him as he stood there in one of his tropical print shirts and his worn out jeans with a nervous smile on his face.

"Bradley?" You glanced at the wall and then back at his face. You weren't even sure if your words were intelligible as you muttered, "Paper planes?"

His smile widened. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He nodded toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

"They did?" you managed as he took a step closer until he was right in front of you, and then and sank down onto one knee. 

"They did." He was all vulnerable brown eyes and sincerity as he looked up at you and said, "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up his right hand, fingers curled in a loose fist. You watched as he carefully unfurled them, revealing a ring resting on his palm. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern." He was rambling, but you could barely breathe from the butterflies which were fluttering hard against your ribcage. "Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping. I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

"Bradley," you gasped, trying to hold back your tears as you sucked in shallow breaths. "Are you serious?"

You'd known him for less than a year, but you never felt this comfortable or safe around another person before. You never felt so loved. When he raised his hand a little higher like he was ready to hand you the ring along with his heart, he said, "I'm serious. You told me forever sounds good to you. It sounds good to me, too. I think we should do it. Will you marry me?"

There was really only one acceptable answer when you knew he belonged with you. When you were certain your future and his matched up perfectly. When there was no chance you could love anyone else like you loved him.

"Yes."

-----------------------------

Yes. Yes. Yesss! Thanks kiddos, for making it extra special. I don't think any of them will be surprised to find their teacher sporting some new jewelry at school. Bradley plus Gorgeous equals forever.

PART 27

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[eiralunaire]

The space between you was minimal, just a few centimeters. Damian's breathing mixed with yours, creating a heavy atmosphere, charged with unspoken emotions. His hand slowly rose, as if he was hesitant to touch you, until his fingers brushed the line of your jaw.

"You are..." his voice, usually firm and controlled, now trembled with a mix of desire and vulnerability, "you are everything I swore I shouldn't have."

Your eyes met his, and in them you saw something raw and real, something he had never shown before. You could feel the internal battle he was fighting with himself, between the warrior who had to stay distant and the man who surrendered to what he felt for you.

"Damian..." you whispered, his name escaping your lips with a softness that seemed to melt the last barriers that contained him.

There was no warning. In an instant, he closed the distance between you and his lips found yours. The kiss was intense, like he’d been holding this moment back for years. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, like he feared you would fade away if he didn’t keep you next to him.

The heat emanating from his body was almost overwhelming, and the way his mouth moved against yours spoke of a passion held back for too long. You found yourself reciprocating with equal intensity, your hands moving up to tangle in his dark hair.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. His forehead rested against yours again, and you could feel his chest rise and fall hard.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” he confessed with an honesty that disarmed you. His voice was low, almost a growl, heavy with desire. “I don’t want to stop it.”

Your fingers gently traced the line of his jaw, exploring the texture of his skin as you tried to find the right words.

“Then don’t,” you said, and your voice, though soft, carried a determination that had him looking at you with a mix of admiration and devotion.

Damian responded with renewed intensity, trapping you in another kiss, this time slower, deeper. Every move seemed calculated, but not because he was hesitating, but because he wanted to memorize every detail, every sensation.

“Do you know what you mean to me?” he whispered against your lips, his low, gravelly voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me,” you murmured, your fingers now playing with the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your hands.

“You’re my weakness,” he admitted, his tone more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “And also my strength.”

His words, loaded with meaning, left a lump in your throat. Damian Wayne, the man who had sworn to never open up to anyone, was here, before you, completely exposed.

The night seemed to drag on as you both drifted along in a current that neither of you could stop. The tension in the air was palpable, and while every caress, every kiss, spoke of intense desire, there was also something deeper: a connection that went beyond the physical.

When Damian finally lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the couch in front of the gently burning fireplace, his eyes never left yours.

“There’s no turning back for me,” he declared with a finality that took your breath away. “If this means I lose myself, then so be it.”

And in that moment, you knew it wasn’t just attraction they felt. It was something deeper, something that promised to consume them both completely.

Part three

[knavcsblade]

haiiii! i love you works sm and i was wondering if i could request a subby!transfem!arle x f!reader oneshot wherein we ride her to oblivion? it’s totally fine if you dont wanna^^ but if you do, thank you sm!

surrender.

+18.

cw: transfem sub!arlecchino x reader. praise. dom arle turned sub. choking, if you squint.

wc: 2.0k

summary: arlecchino is awfully exhausted, so you help her unwind.

a/n: well, this was interesting to write… it’s hard for me to see arle as a sub, so i gave it a little twist, i guess... also hi! i'm back

Morning, afternoon, evening—they all blurred into the same dreadful hell for Arlecchino. Whether it was the moon or the sun high in the sky, it didn’t matter. She always found herself stuck in drawn-out journeys across Teyvat to carry out her missions.

Yes, her job as a Harbinger was practically her entire life. But if she were to be realistic, she was still human despite the powers she wielded and took pride in. It all managed to leave her drained. Weary. She would be lying if she said it didn’t drive her mad every now and then.

And here she was, after months away, dragging herself into her private study at the House. Her limbs felt like lead, every step a silent battle against gravity which threatened to pull her down. It wasn’t physical exhaustion she felt, no. She had the endurance of a warrior forged in battle. But she felt hollowed-out. Depleted beyond the bodily sense.

As Arlecchino sank into the plush material of the artfully designed chair behind her desk, which sighed and dipped beneath her weight, her shoulders slumped. She was home, at last.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going like this—but she always did, out of habit more than will.

Her mind buzzed with static, thoughts coming slow and disjointed as she analyzed her performance back in a distant nation. But then, as if on cue, the door creaked open.

Her expression remained sober as you stepped inside. It was as calculating as that of a predator sizing up their prey, as it usually was. It belied the fact that she felt like a limbless creature at the moment. The sight of anyone, including yourself, interrupting her vulnerable musings… It wasn’t something she enjoyed much.

“Is there a reason you’re awake at this hour?” She asked after a stretched-out silence that threatened to consume the room.

“I was waiting for you.”

The statement made her eyebrow arch. She hadn’t exactly informed you of her arrival. Perhaps it was your own intuition that had led you to stay up, as if somehow you knew she would be returning that night.

To clear any impending questions she saw coming her way as you opened your mouth, she spoke again. Her voice was rough, unusually so as she interrupted you. “I’m doing fine.”

She gauged a singular reaction from you. A long exhale. She could already see the gears turning in your head, the way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other like you wanted to protest.

Which you did.

“Are you, now?” You asked, quiet concern lacing those three words.

Arlecchino already knew you weren’t the easiest person to deceive. No, not at all. Somehow you managed to see past her dismissals and refusals like they were nothing more than a fragile wall of glass blocking your path. As much as it served to infuriate her, it was a nice change of pace.

She studied you for some time. Those red crosses examined every last inch of skin your robe exposed, her forefinger tapping a staccato rhythm on her crossed leg. She took in the sight of blemishes, scars, and tender flesh silently. You were a pretty little thing. If she hadn’t felt so jaded, she would’ve given you what her body was already aching for.

When she met your gaze once more, her eyes narrowed. It was an imperceptible thing, barely a twitch of her eyelids. She still was unused to the way you didn’t mind defying her so brazenly. “It seems you are quite… observant,” she remarked. “I lied. I’m fatigued.”

You nodded at her admissal, already feeling triumphant deep down. As much as you wished to celebrate this win, since Arlecchino oddly revealed such things, you couldn’t. Not when you could now see it.

The woman had stamina for days—years, even. Seeing her there, sitting on her chair, gave you pause. You saw the way her eyes hooded slightly, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed like her throat was dry, the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

You now knew you had a duty to care for her, just as she had been caring for you for months. As unconventional as this relationship of yours was, it wouldn’t be one-sided.

“I see,” you eventually said, your bare feet already beginning to lead you towards her.

She watched, transfixed, as the silky fabric rode up your thighs with each step. She was beyond caring for being discreet. As if she hadn’t had you moaning and writhing beneath her before. As if she hadn’t felt every ounce of your being under her palms and tongue in lazy mornings. There was no point in hiding her desire, and there never had been.

Once you gently guided her legs to unfold so you could straddle them, she snapped out of her daze. Your weight pressing down on her made it so her eyes flicked back to your face, all just to take in your lightly determined expression.

This was new.

Arlecchino always took the reins. She always guided, always led. This position is compromising, she thought, but she didn’t find it in herself to stop you. As uncharted as the territory was, she… liked it. As much as she could really like anything.

“What is this about?” She breathed out, her darkened hands finding their spot on the armrests of the chair the moment she felt that well-known stirring in her tailored pants.

Maybe she’d lost herself in the moment an awful lot. The tiredness she felt seeping into the back of her mind, adding the unexpected surge of want, produced a heavy cocktail in which she slowly began to drown. If you had given her an answer, she wouldn't have heard.

Not even the warmth of your hands pressed on her chest broke her out of it. Time blurred and warped right before her very eyes, and the throbbing ache she felt due to your closeness was more like a distant discomfort she couldn’t—didn’t—want to shake.

It wasn’t like anything she had experienced before. Every second of your open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of her neck was divine in its own right. It was reverent. It was all she needed and never thought she’d deserve.

And then, the sudden heat enveloping her cock hit her like a stampede.

She blinked back the remnants of her trance. She could see your barely covered body, the way your robe had fallen open to reveal the tantalizing form she had worshipped inside and out several times. She saw it in a new light now.

She took in the valley of your breasts—which she had trailed her hand through like clockwork whenever she found enough time in her schedule—. The sight of your abdomen. The way in which your pussy engulfed her length and didn’t seem to want to let go anytime soon.

The faint glow of red her eyes cast upon your features only made you look more like sin and temptation rather than the human she had grown strangely fond of. And now, Arlecchino’s usually calm heart stammered in her chest for some unknown reason, like a caged bird flapping its wings and hoping to fly away.

“Don’t worry,” you murmured, voice filtering through her ears like a purr that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ll take care of you.”

Then you moved, and her composure shattered to pieces.

The first roll of your hips was her undoing. She gasped, softly. It was barely audible to those without keen ears, but you heard it. You always did. It was as rewarding as a soft breeze on a warm summer afternoon.

As soon as your soft hands cupped her jaw just to close the distance, you gauged another reaction. A quick whimper. It was a brand new sound. A perfect, needy sound that sent a rush of desire coursing through your veins.

Arlecchino, on her end, was dissipating. She melted against your lips like ice cream under the scorching sun, like wax that sat too close to the flames and didn’t mind burning. The taste of that sweetness in your tongue was almost like an aphrodisiac to a woman like her—a sip for the parched.

Every delicious noise that escaped from her mouth, you swallowed it greedily. You bounced on her lap leisurely, which would’ve made her lose her patience on a regular day, but this wasn’t one. This was otherworldly. The feeling of your delicate fingers around her throat didn’t feel like a threat, but like the caress it truly was.

Once you picked up the pace, she moaned. Once. Twice. Then she was fully letting go. Then she was looking at the spot in which you two became one and let her hands fly to grip your hips. It was usually the controlling gesture she would give when in the throes of passion, but it was different this once. It was more relaxed.

“You’re beautiful.”

The suddenness of the comment made her gasp. Had she ever been called that? Had she ever been seen in such a vulnerable state, but didn’t feel like fighting?

She held you close, but didn’t lead. She surrendered beneath you and let you do as you pleased, because she was enjoying it. Because she could feel the knots she carried along with herself every day slowly untangling.

So there she was, eyes half-lidded as she watched her cock disappearing inside you with each movement, throwing her head back from time to time as the tip rubbed deliciously against your velvety walls. All you had to do was watch and stroke her pulse point with the pad of your thumb.

Each and every clenching sensation around her shaft made her nails dig into the flesh of your hips, merely as an instinctive reaction. She heaved, her vision blurry as she focused on the way your tits bounced so close to her face. She reached out, of course, strong hand cupping the swell of one of them before you grabbed her wrist and guided it back to your hip.

She was stunned for a beat. How dare you? She always touched. Always grabbed. But, oh my. This was thrilling. You were almost lucky she hadn’t the energy to protest.

She wouldn’t have, either way.

Even as you smirked down at her and then bit your lip to stifle a moan. Even as you leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss without permission once more. She held onto the pillowy globes of your ass and allowed you to suck on her tongue. If anything, it drew a sharp exhale from her.

Before Arlecchino even knew it, the usually silent study was filled with the sound of moans, deep breaths, and the creaking of the chair beneath your combined weight. She felt drops of sweat dripping from her temples and down her face, all just for them to disappear somewhere between where your palm met her neck and the column of her throat.

Then your movements grew erratic as your thighs trembled against hers, and she was already feeling like a live wire ready to snap. The coiled tension in her belly was almost unbearable, and so was yours.

All it took was just another roll of your hips. Just one singular movement that drew a sharp cry from the depths of your chest and a shaky moan from Arlecchino. Then you were spasming on top of her, and her cock sprung free from the tight grip of your cunt just for it to spurt thick ropes of cum.

Now you were fully drenched in more ways than one. Your body jerked in the aftershocks of an all-consuming orgasm that dripped onto the fabric of her pants, and her own fluids cascaded slowly down your abdomen.

It was an awfully erotic picture she wished to capture and never forget.

“Was this… your attempt at looking after me?” She breathlessly asked after a long pause.

You chuckled as your eyes flicked down to take in the mess you had created together. “Yes.”

She hummed. “Well… Nicely done.”

[teamackles96]

Let Me Help You

summary: You help Dean clean up after a hunt

pairing: Dean Winchester x reader (pure fluff)

wordcount: 697

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchester One-Shots Masterlists

“Sit,” you said firmly, nodding toward one of the chairs in the library.

Dean didn’t argue. He just dragged himself forward and dropped into the seat like his bones were heavier than usual.

He looked rough—worse than he ever let on. Dried blood clung to the side of his face in jagged streaks, mostly from the deep gash just above his brow. His skin was littered with smaller cuts and bruises—along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Like a man who had gone three rounds with a monster and won, but barely.

You set the first aid kit down with a soft thump and placed the bowl of warm water next to it. As you rolled up your sleeves, Dean’s eyes followed you, silent. Not wary, exactly. But unsure. Like he didn’t know how to accept what was coming.

You soaked the cloth, wrung it out slowly, and stepped between his knees.

“You really don’t ha—” he began, voice low and gravelly, already trying to shrug it off.

“Just let me help you, okay?” you said softly, cutting him off.

Your fingers tilted his face toward you, thumb resting at the edge of his chin. With the damp cloth, you began wiping gently at the dried blood. You were slow, methodical—barely any pressure, just enough to cleanse the skin.

Dean winced once, but otherwise said nothing.

His eyes, however, never stopped watching you. Not the way most people looked. It wasn’t surface-level. It was like he was trying to read every thought behind your eyes, trace the patterns of your face, memorize the slope of your brow. Like he didn’t quite believe he deserved this moment of care, but he wanted to hold onto it anyway.

You kept your own gaze focused on the task. Looking at him—really looking—would’ve made it harder to stay steady. You knew what this meant to him. What it cost him to sit there and let someone else take care of the aftermath.

The cloth turned pink with each pass, and you rinsed it out again before tossing it into the bowl. The wound on his forehead had finally stopped bleeding. It wasn’t deep enough for stitches, but still raw and angry-looking.

You reached for the butterfly bandages, but before applying them, you unconsciously brought your hand up to cup his right cheek—just to steady yourself.

Dean froze. Then leaned into the touch.

His eyes fluttered shut, and his stubbled cheek pressed gently into your palm like it was instinct. No tension, no pretence. Just stillness. Surrender.

You stopped.

There was something about seeing Dean Winchester—hunter, warrior, protector—seek out comfort so quietly that made your heart ache. It was the kind of vulnerability he didn’t even realize he was showing.

Your thumb brushed over his cheek, slow and deliberate, feeling the warmth of his skin, the scrape of his stubble, the edge of the man underneath all that armour.

He opened his eyes again, heavy-lidded, soft in a way that made your chest tighten.

Then the awareness crept back in. The sharpness. His eyes widened slightly, like he’d only just realized what he’d done. That he’d let the mask slip.

You smiled. Gentle. Reassuring. Telling him without words: You’re safe here. It’s okay to rest.

With careful hands, you applied the suture strips to his forehead. You noticed the shift in his body—the way he subtly pulled back into himself, like he needed to reassemble the walls you’d managed to sneak past.

You let him.

A quick scan told you everything else would heal on its own. Bruises, shallow cuts—just time and rest.

You packed up the kit, rinsed out the bowl, and turned back to him.

“All good,” you said quietly, brushing your hands off on your jeans.

You paused. And then, before walking away, you bent down and pressed a soft kiss to the bandaged wound on his forehead.

It was feather-light. A whisper of affection against skin that had seen too much pain.

Dean didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just sat there, eyes closed again—like maybe this time, he let himself feel it.

[soulofapatrick]

We Are Everything - Rhysand x female reader

Summary: Rhys gets jealous of how close you are with Cassian and Azriel 

Words: 2.7K 

Warnings: None really

Y/N's POV

Every inch of me is on fire as Azriel and I land in the House of Wind, a dull ache spreading through my muscles from a day that’s been nothing short of brutal. Today, for the first time, I manifested Illyrian wings—the heavy, powerful weight of them still unfamiliar against my back. Each beat had been a struggle, the strain leaving me barely able to stand now. My body hums with fatigue, my bones echoing with the effort it took to stay aloft.

Azriel’s hand remains firm around my arm, guiding me as we step into the living room. I’m barely aware of who’s present, only that the comforting warmth of home surrounds me—until I hear a soft scoff.

I lift my head and catch Nesta’s narrowed gaze flicking over me, her lips curled in the faintest sneer. Her eyes linger on my trousers, the mud-streaked leather, the sweat still clinging to my skin. There's a flash of disdain that I know all too well; she doesn’t even need to say it for her message to be clear. A woman should be in dresses, not leather, and definitely not training.

But after the day I’ve had, I can’t bring myself to care. Not even Nesta’s sharp look can touch the quiet pride pulsing in my chest, the satisfaction of the wings still heavy against my back.

Nesta’s sneer sharpens as I meet her gaze, her mouth twisting just a bit more. “I suppose now you think you’re an Illyrian warrior,” she says, voice dripping with that familiar disdain. “I hope you don’t expect us all to start dressing like… that.”

I’m too tired to even form a response, so instead, I lift a hand and flip her the bird without breaking stride. I hear a scoff and what might be a muttered insult, but I’m already focused on my destination: the couch, where Cassian is stretched out, watching with one raised brow and a smirk playing on his lips.

With legs shaking and every muscle burning, I stumble forward, letting myself collapse right onto the couch beside him. A pained groan slips from my lips as I finally let my body go slack, my head falling onto Cassian’s strong, solid thighs like a pillow carved from pure muscle.

Cassian’s smirk softens into something warmer, and without a word, his hand moves to my hair, his fingers gently working through the strands. The slow, soothing strokes seem to untangle more than just my hair, easing away the worst of the day’s strain. I close my eyes, letting out a contented sigh as I feel the stress of training begin to melt away under his touch.

At the other end of the couch, I feel a soft pressure at my feet. Cracking one eye open, I find Azriel crouched by my boots, unlacing them with a care and gentleness that almost surprises me. His touch is reverent, his shadows coiling protectively around him as he works. He glances up, his gaze meeting mine for just a moment, and there’s a flicker of warmth there—softer than his usual stoicism, an almost brotherly affection that makes my heart ache in a different way.

Between Cassian’s gentle touch in my hair and Azriel’s careful hands unlacing my boots, I feel myself drifting, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under.

The fatigue in my body is overwhelming, but Cassian’s touch is a balm, gentle and soothing. His fingers comb through my hair with a rhythm that almost lulls me to sleep, and Azriel’s presence at my feet grounds me in a way that lets me fully surrender to the moment. The ache in my bones is nearly forgotten under the weight of their care, but then, something else tugs at my chest—a pull that is different, sharper, than the weariness I’ve felt all day.

It’s not physical, but it aches all the same. My heart stirs, and my eyes flutter open in confusion. There, standing in the doorway, is Rhysand. His dark wings are tightly folded, his posture rigid, his expression taut with something I can’t quite place. His eyes find me instantly, pinning me in place, and that ache in my chest grows stronger. It’s a subtle thing, an invisible thread pulling me toward him.

Cassian’s fingers stop mid-stroke in my hair, his hand freezing when he catches the tension in the air. I can feel it, too. The room feels suddenly charged, the air heavy with unspoken words. Rhysand’s jaw tightens, and he lets out a low sound—almost a growl—as his gaze flicks from Cassian’s hand in my hair to my face, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a ripple of heat through me.

“Cassian,” Rhysand’s voice is a dangerous whisper, rough with barely restrained control. “Stop touching her.”

The words hit me like a shock to my system, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Cassian’s hand stirs in my hair one last time before pulling away, his fingers trembling slightly as if reluctant to let go. The sudden absence of his touch makes my skin burn for a moment, and I fight the instinct to reach for him, to beg him not to stop.

I’m too tired to care about the tension, too exhausted to hold back the words that tumble from my mouth. “Go away, Rhysand,” I murmur, my voice thick with sleep and a quiet defiance. “I’m tired, and I’m comfy. Let me be.”

There’s a sharpness in Rhysand’s eyes, something deep and possessive that makes my pulse quicken. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for a long beat. Even Nesta, who usually doesn’t hide her distaste, falls silent, her sneer melting into something unreadable as she watches. Feyre, tucked behind her book, raises a brow but doesn’t look up from the pages, the quiet understanding in her gaze making me wonder if she’s seen this before.

I feel the tension crackle between us, thick enough to make the room feel smaller, the air too heavy to breathe easily. Rhysand doesn’t leave, but neither does he approach, his eyes still fixed on me with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver up my spine.

Cassian, on the other hand, remains still, his hand resting just inches from my hair, his touch gone but the heat of it lingering. His fingers twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to return to their soothing rhythm, but he stays where he is, a silent promise in the way his eyes meet mine. The unspoken connection between us is undeniable.

But Rhysand, still standing in the doorway, seems to fill the entire space with a tension that’s almost suffocating. I want to resist the pull in my chest, want to ignore the way he makes everything inside me tighten, but I’m too tired. And right now, all I want is to rest in the warmth of the moment, to let the world fade away around me.

With a soft sigh, I close my eyes again, refusing to acknowledge the storm brewing in the room. “Go away, Rhysand,” I whisper once more, this time my words gentler, though my resolve is still firm.

I’m too comfortable here. Too safe. Too-

Rhysand’s eyes flash, the storm within him no longer hidden. Without a word, he crosses the room in two large strides, his presence towering and undeniable. Before I can even register what’s happening, his arms are around me, lifting me off the couch in one fluid motion.

The sudden shift in position, the abruptness of his actions, has me gasping in pain. My body protests, every muscle aching from the day’s training, the weight of my wings still unfamiliar. The sharp tug in my chest grows, but it’s not just the ache from my wings anymore—this pain is raw, burning through me, made worse by his hurriedness.

I cry out, the sound torn from my throat before I can control it.

Rhys’s expression falters for a split second, his eyes darkening as if the pain I’ve felt only deepens his own anger. But there’s no pause. No apology. He holds me tighter, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscles twitch under his skin. His chest heaves with every breath, but the world around us seems to shrink with the intensity of the moment.

Without warning, the air ripples with the unmistakable feeling of his magic, and I’m yanked away from the House of Wind. The world blurs, the room fading into nothingness before I even have a chance to react.

We’re somewhere else—far from the House of Wind. The air is colder, crisper, and the scent of pine fills my senses. My eyes snap open to find myself in a cozy cabin nestled in the mountains, the dim light from a crackling fire casting soft shadows across the room.

Rhysand doesn’t put me down immediately. His grip on me is firm, possessive, and though his anger hasn’t subsided, there’s something more in his gaze now. Something… unreadable. He’s still holding me against his chest, his heart beating wildly under my ear as I try to steady my breath.

I’m still cradled in his arms, my body weak and aching, and yet, with his warmth enveloping me, I can’t help but feel a strange comfort. The pain from the abrupt winnowing is still there, but it’s swallowed by the closeness of his presence, by the way he holds me so tightly, almost as if he’s afraid to let go.

His voice comes low, rough, and edged with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking, pushing yourself like that?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens, just for a moment, and then he’s moving, cradling me against his chest as he strides toward the bedroom. Every step is measured, careful, as though he’s afraid any jostling might worsen the ache in my body. When he lays me down on the bed, I feel a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that makes my heart twist painfully.

For a brief, fragile moment, I think I might cry. There’s something in his eyes—a rare vulnerability, a glimmer of guilt and protectiveness so intense it makes my throat tighten. I’m too tired, too sore, to unravel the depth of it, but the ache that had been nagging in my chest spreads, a tender warmth and longing all at once.

Without a word, Rhys turns toward the en-suite, the sound of water filling the silence as he begins to run a bath. My body throbs with the lingering pain of the winnowing, muscles still tensed from the sudden shift. Yet, as I watch him turn away, that ache only deepens, twisting through me, begging him not to leave my side.

Almost on instinct, my hand reaches out, finding his fingers just as he starts to pull away. I can barely speak, my voice a hushed whisper. “Don’t… don’t go.” My fingers tighten around his, not caring about pride or pretence in this moment—just the desperate need for his warmth, his steadiness, here with me.

Rhysand stops, his back still turned to me, but I feel his hand squeeze mine, firm and reassuring. Slowly, he turns back, his expression melting from tense determination into something softer, something full of unspoken promises. His thumb brushes across my knuckles as he kneels down beside the bed, his gaze meeting mine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering, his expression unreadable for a beat, but his hand tightens around mine, his thumb still tracing slow circles on my skin. He lets me pull him onto the bed beside me, his weight dipping the mattress just enough that I can feel the warmth of him, smell the faint, familiar scent of night-blooming jasmine and sea salt, something uniquely Rhysand that fills the air and makes my head spin.

He’s so close now, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip. The firelight flickers, casting a warm glow across his sharp features, softening the fierce determination in his gaze. My breath catches as I study him, and I can feel the unspoken words that seem to hover between us, thickening the air.

The air between us pulses with an ache, heavy and electric, and I can barely breathe under the weight of it. Tugging him closer, I pull Rhys to me until his face is so close I can feel the whisper of his breath against my lips. His dark gaze flickers over my face, full of need, tenderness, and something fierce that makes my heart stammer.

“Is this what I think it is?” I breathe, my voice a trembling thread. My fingers brush the line of his jaw, feeling his muscles clench beneath my touch. He stares at me like I’m the only thing in existence, his eyes wild and searching, his body still but tense, as if he’s holding back a torrent of feeling.

His lips part slightly, a faint, shaky exhale escaping. “And what do you think it is?” His voice is rough, his words both a challenge and an invitation.

My heart pounds, my throat tight with the overwhelming truth of it all. I hold his gaze, each beat of silence heavy with meaning, before I finally say, “You’re my mate.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, his expression crumbles—relief, joy, and something almost like disbelief flashing across his face, only to be replaced by a fierce, desperate devotion. His hands come up to cradle my face, his thumb grazing my cheek as if afraid I’ll vanish. He leans in, his gaze soft yet blazing with unspoken words, with promises and feelings he’s held back for far too long.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his voice trembling, thick with emotion. His eyes are locked on mine, as if needing to burn the moment into his memory, to let the words settle into his very bones.

“You’re my mate, Rhys,” I say, barely more than a breath, but I pour every ounce of feeling into it. It’s the truth, raw and undeniable.

And before I can take another breath, he closes the gap, his lips crashing onto mine, and the world falls away. His kiss is desperate, searing, full of longing that has simmered for what feels like a lifetime. He kisses me as if he’s starved for it, as if I’m the only thing that can soothe the ache inside him, and the intensity of it ignites something deep within me, spreading like wildfire.

His hands tangle in my hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls me closer, holding me like he’s afraid to let go. Each touch, each press of his lips, is fierce, claiming, yet achingly tender. His kiss is everything—demanding, gentle, passionate—and I feel myself melting into him, my body surrendering to the rhythm of his, every fibre of me aligning with him.

His lips leave mine just long enough for us to gasp for breath, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with longing, with love, his forehead resting against mine as if he’s grounding himself in me.

“I’ve wanted this—needed this—for so long,” he murmurs, his voice rough and unsteady, his hands framing my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones.

“Then don’t let go,” I whisper, voice trembling with emotion.

His gaze softens, but the desperation remains, and he kisses me again, deeper this time, with a kind of reverence that makes my heart ache. It’s as if he’s pouring his very soul into me, as if his love, his devotion, is something he can no longer contain. His arms wrap around me, pulling me impossibly close, our bodies aligning, the world outside forgotten.

In this moment, we are everything.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

[xichilie]

Childe x (fem)reader

"Spoiled Rotten"

Y/N sighed, stretching her arms above her head as she walked through Liyue Harbor’s bustling streets. The scent of fresh pastries from the food stalls mixed with the salty sea breeze, creating a familiar warmth in the air. It was a beautiful day, but for her, it was just another ordinary one.

Or at least, that’s what she thought.

She had planned to spend her birthday as she always did—maybe buying herself a small treat, enjoying the peaceful harbor view, and then heading home. Nothing extravagant. No grand celebrations. Just something simple.

But apparently, someone had very different plans.

“There you are!”

Before Y/N could react, an arm hooked around her waist, and suddenly, she was being lifted clean off the ground.

"What the—?!"

A startled yelp left her lips as she flailed, her world tilting for a brief moment before she found herself securely pressed against a very familiar chest. The warmth of his body, the strength of his arms—it was unmistakable.

"Childe!" she gasped, twisting to look up at him.

He grinned down at her, looking absolutely pleased with himself. “Caught you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Put. Me. Down.”

He laughed but obeyed, setting her back on her feet—though his hands lingered just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to let her go.

Y/N crossed her arms, suspicion flickering in her gaze. “What are you up to?”

Childe feigned innocence, pressing a hand to his chest. “What? Can’t a guy just be happy to see his favorite person?”

She wasn’t buying it. “Ajax.”

His smirk faltered slightly at the sound of his real name. Damn it, she knew exactly how to make him weak.

“…Okay, okay,” he admitted, holding up his hands in surrender. “But you’re not allowed to ask any questions.”

Before she could protest, he grabbed her wrist and started pulling her along.

"Wait—where are we going?"

"You'll see," he said, eyes glinting mischievously. "Just trust me."

To her surprise, Childe didn’t lead her to any of Liyue’s grand restaurants. No Xinyue Kiosk, no Liuli Pavilion, none of the places he usually dragged her to when he wanted to spoil her.

Instead, he led her toward a quieter part of the harbor, where the golden glow of lanterns shimmered on the water’s surface. It was peaceful, away from the usual crowds, and the moment they turned the corner—she froze.

A small wooden table sat beneath a string of delicate lanterns, their soft light casting a warm glow over the setting. The table was adorned with her favorite dishes, steam curling from the bowls, each one carefully plated with obvious effort. The scents of freshly cooked food mixed with the evening air, making her stomach tighten with unexpected warmth.

To the side, a neat stack of gifts sat wrapped in beautiful ribbons, varying in size—some small and delicate, others larger, like they were meant to surprise her.

For a long moment, she just stared.

Childe shifted beside her, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… what do you think?”

She turned to him slowly, still processing. “You… did all this?”

He grinned, looking way too pleased with himself. “Of course! What kind of guy would I be if I let your birthday pass without making it special?”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again, overwhelmed by the sheer effort he must have put into this. She had been expecting nothing—maybe a quick “happy birthday” and a playful ruffle of her hair—but this? This was something else entirely.

He didn’t just take her somewhere fancy to impress her. He actually cooked.

Childe, the Harbinger, the battle-hungry warrior, cooked for her.

The thought made her chest tighten.

“I was gonna book one of those fancy places,” he admitted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But I figured you’d just scold me for spending too much, so I went with something better.”

Y/N finally found her voice. “This is better?”

His smirk softened into something more genuine. “Of course. Because it’s just us.”

Her heart ached in the best way.

Childe reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “Come on, sit. The food’s still hot, and I promise it won’t kill you.”

She let out a weak laugh, still dazed as he pulled out a chair for her.

The moment she sat, Childe immediately started serving her, placing generous portions onto her plate. He was clearly excited, practically vibrating with energy, watching her closely as she took her first bite.

The food was… surprisingly good.

Sure, it wasn’t restaurant-perfect, but it was warm, comforting, and undeniably made with care. The flavors were balanced, and even though there were small imperfections, Y/N could taste the effort.

She swallowed, blinking up at him. “Ajax… this is really good.”

He exhaled dramatically, as if relieved. “Thank the Archons,” he said, grinning. “I was worried I’d have to bribe you to say that.”

She shook her head, smiling softly. “No, really. It’s good. And… this whole thing…” Her gaze drifted over the table, the lanterns, the gifts. “It’s a lot.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She hesitated. “I just… you really didn’t have to go this far.”

Childe’s expression softened. “I wanted to.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten all over again.

“You’re important to me, Y/N,” he said, his usual playful tone replaced with something quieter, more honest. “So of course I’d go all out. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?”

Y/N stared at him, her heart threatening to burst.

He was so proud, so happy—if he had a tail, it would be wagging uncontrollably.

She sighed, reaching out before she could stop herself.

Before Childe could react, she cupped his face between her hands, squeezing his cheeks gently.

His blue eyes widened slightly. “Mmmph?”

She couldn’t help it—his startled expression was adorable.

“…Thank you, Ajax,” she murmured.

His breath hitched slightly.

Before he could say something smug, Y/N leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

For a second, Childe completely froze.

Then, as she pulled back, his entire face turned bright red.

“Oh,” he breathed. His usual confidence had vanished, replaced by wide-eyed awe. “I—I mean. Yeah. You’re welcome. Anytime. Every time.”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “You look like you just short-circuited.”

Childe groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “You can’t just do that.”

She raised a brow. “Do what? Kiss you?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean—” He groaned again before peeking at her through his fingers. “…Maybe one more?”

Y/N laughed, tugging him down by the collar.

“We’ll see.”

And despite all the extravagant gifts, the carefully cooked meal, and the elaborate planning—Childe was absolutely certain that her kiss was the best part of the night.

[emmcfrxst]

mom!reader and Laura hospitalizing Logan as an alternative ending for Logan? im not sure where I was going with this, but, I thought it might be a good idea somehow, heh.

-💟

i love that idea! my silly little brain actually thought of an alternative as well— so as we know, the apparition of a mutation can be triggered by a strongly emotional event, and seeing logan agonizing is obviously quite traumatic so what if reader’s mutation, a healing power, appears as a trauma response?

you’re putting pressure on one of the deeper wounds on logan’s chest, trembling hands stained crimson from the blood that’s soaking through the thin fabric of his wife beater. you can hear the heart wrenching melody of laura’s sobs coming from somewhere besides you even through the heavy pounding of your heart in your ears, the sound bringing a fresh round of tears to your already damp eyes. your lover is wheezing loudly, searing pain striking like lightning with every rise and fall of his chest. this is it, he thinks; this is what dying feels like.

he should be relieved— it’s all he’s ever wanted, really; a permanent escape from the torments of his past, but it feels wrong.

he can’t leave you like this— can’t leave laura like this, confused and afraid and without a father to keep her safe. he wants to fight the exhaustion that’s settling deep into his bones, he needs to fight it— but he’s so goddamn tired, and his body craves the numbness that comes with sleep; with death. laura is screaming something he can’t quite make out over the static in his ears, small hands wrapped around his bicep, shaking him in a desperate attempt to keep him conscious. you’re crying, too; he can smell the saltiness of your tears, can almost feel the painful seizing of your chest from the sobs wrecking your body, hands sticky with his blood. he coughs weakly, mouth filling with the taste of iron, his eyes finally starting to close; he’ll rest just for a minute. terror courses through you as he finally slumps against the ground— a warrior, a legend; the wolverine, finally surrendering to time like an ordinary man would. the blood in your veins turns to ice when you realize that you can’t feel a pulse anymore, laura’s wails turning feral as you kneel here, next to the man you love, feeling like you’re trapped underwater. you feel numb as shock crashes through your system, rooting you to your spot, your eyes glazing over. you come back to consciousness when you feel laura shaking you vigorously, screaming something you can’t quite understand and pointing at your hands, from where a faint white glow has started to emanate, spreading over logan’s limp form like a cocoon of light, his skin slowly stitching itself back together where the gleam enters the wounds. you and laura watch in disbelief as logan’s injuries disappear, leaving only scars as proof that they ever even existed. the sound of logan choking on his blood fills your ears again, startling you, and you watch as he sits up quickly, spitting out a mouthful of scarlet. he looks as alarmed as you feel, hazel eyes focused on the slowly dimming light enveloping your hands, a thin sheen of sweat covering his now uninjured body. laura moves first, breaking the spell of the moment, throwing her arms around her father’s neck, hugging him tightly, babbling nonsense. he hugs her back, one hand splaying across the length of her spine, eyes meeting yours, astonished. you let out a watery laugh, shaking your head— silently letting him know that you’re just as confused as he is— before joining the hug, allowing your lips to leave a flurry of tender kisses across the side of his face.

there would definitely be things to talk about later, but that could wait. you had a reunion to finish first.

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Night's Watch Lord Commander!Jon Snow and Arrogant Noble Woman!You…

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, dark!Jon Snow, kidnapping, kissing, groping, forced stripping, manipulation, breeding kink, bastard shaming, humiliation. MDNI. 

Note: Can/Does this qualify for Kinktober/Halloween?

. . . 

His bushy lips that are akin in their roughness to his fingers that ‘gently’ move your hair away from your back that he further exposes by pulling on the harness that had been holding your blouse together feel harsh against your soft skin. He pushes the mass of your soft strands over one of your shoulders from behind and a beastly arm is wrapped around your waist to pull your body closer to that of your captive so he can press his deranged and lewd kisses along the length of your spine, the sickening sensation causing for your body to curl in disgust.

Jon Snow is a bastard in every sense of the word. 

Having meticulously crafted the persona of the gentle warrior full of valiance, endurance and better sense, you now understand with a frightening realization that he tirelessly worked for the construction of his present circumstances for years so he could perform a flawless execution of his plan that you are living now.

Although for reasons not particularly aimed at the shallowness in his facade that you can see through now, it is now that you know that you had always been right in your unyielding contempt of him. That your intuition that there festered something dark and twisted behind those ‘innocent’ eyes of his that were black as night and thus your accordingly treatment of him was justified. 

Jon had taken your unrelenting shaming and insulting of his origin, your humiliating rejection of his proposal to you and your vehement refusals of any and all attempts at any kind of an alliance between the two of you with a smile for years so as to portray you an unruly beast-like daughter of an influential man only so he could do this. 

Your chapped lips curl in fury and disdain that you feel for the thought as well as yourself. You had always considered your skills in self defense and swordsmanship to be on par with any other lad your age. 

Only for your mind to not even process your abduction when it was underway let alone your combative learnings to come into play. 

Your body stiffens when one of his hairy paws reach for your bare breasts and you almost smack it away but your stomach lets out a painful growl and the lining of your stomach painfully retracts into your organs at that very moment almost as a signal to make you stop and reconsider your urges. Your body freezes and you let your eyes wander to the object of your humiliation and assured desecration. The sight causes for your dry mouth to salivate in a way you had been a stranger to before this.

A steaming bowl of stew with a jug of water. 

That is the deal. Jon says he will not force himself on you. No. Rather, you will willingly surrender yourself to his touch and mercy. You are to welcome his acquaintance with your intimates, thank him for it, moan for him, let yourself loose to his touch and enjoy everything he plans to do to you. 

Water for every pinch and grope.

Fire and warmth for every move and sway of your body like the whores you've shamed your whole life.

Food for every adulterous act. 

A treat for every ‘experimental’ position in the bed that is currently a heap of carelessly woven straws.

A possible improvement of living conditions for every bastard you bear him.

He can easily bring the appropriate means down in this dungeon that he has built specifically for you in the undergrounds of Castle Black to marry you and legalize as well as religiously sanction this depraved dynamic he has devised for the two of you. 

But just why would he do that when he can easily get what he wants from you whilst torturing you to live through exactly what you have shamed him for all your lives? 

. . .

MASTERLIST

[brodygold]

Brocessed

It was supposed to be a regular Friday night, just us nerds crowded around the table, rolling dice and fighting imaginary dragons. Our group had been together for years—me, Scott, Joey, Derek, and our Dungeon Master, Eric. We had snacks, character sheets, and an epic campaign planned for the night. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?

Except when that knock came at the door.

“Who could that be?” I muttered, looking at the clock. None of us had ordered pizza, and it was almost 11 p.m. We all exchanged looks, and Eric, the tallest of us and thus unofficial “leader” of the group, got up to answer it.

Before he could even turn the knob, the door exploded open, and six guys stormed in. They were huge—like, NFL linebacker huge. All wearing golden jerseys with a crest I didn’t recognize, but I swear I’d seen before. They had an intimidating presence, like warriors marching into battle.

“Who—who are you?” Eric stammered, backing up as the tallest of them—a guy built like a truck—stepped inside.

“We’re the Golden Army,” the guy growled. “And you’re all about to be brocessed”

“What the hell?” Derek muttered, his glasses slipping down his nose as he looked for somewhere to hide. Joey was frozen in place, clutching his character sheet like it was a life preserver. Scott had already backed up against the wall, hands raised in surrender. And me? I couldn’t move. My heart pounded as if I’d rolled a nat-1 on a saving throw.

“Get the gear,” the leader of the Golden Army barked. One of the guys—a muscular dude with short black hair—opened a duffel bag and tossed something onto the table. Golden jerseys.

“What... what are you doing?” Scott’s voice cracked as the jerseys landed in front of us. They shimmered in the light, catching my eye with an almost hypnotic glow.

“You’re gonna suit up,” another one of them said, smirking. “Or we’ll make you.”

I felt a strange urge as I reached for the jersey in front of me. My mind screamed no, but my body acted on autopilot. I slipped off my button down and pulled the golden jersey over my head. The moment it touched my skin, I felt a jolt—like electricity coursing through my veins.

The room began to spin. My body... it didn’t feel like mine anymore. The tight fabric hugged my chest, arms, and stomach, and I realized I was growing. My muscles were expanding, filling out the jersey as if I had spent years in the gym. My scrawny arms were now thick and solid, and my legs... they bulged with muscle. I could feel power surging through me.

“What the... what’s happening?” I gasped, looking down at my arms in disbelief. My voice sounded deeper, more authoritative.

“You’re part of the Golden Army now,” the leader smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “We’re training for the championship.”

“Championship? What... sport?” Eric asked, his voice thick with confusion.

The leader smirked. “Football.”

I blinked. Football? I hadn’t played since high school, and even then, I was a benchwarmer for the JV team. I never even made it onto the field. But now, standing in this new body, it felt... right. Like I could take on anyone. Like I was born to play.

“I... I don’t know anything about football,” Joey muttered, but even as he said it, I could tell his hands itched to throw a pass. My body was already anticipating the rush of the game. My mind was trying to resist, but it was like the jersey was seeping into my thoughts. Changing me.

“You will,” the leader said, tossing us a football. “Golden Army doesn’t lose. The brocess make sure of that.”

The transformation wasn’t just physical. It was mental, too. As my body transformed, so did my mind. At first, it was subtle—just a heightened awareness of my surroundings, a sharper focus. But then, new thoughts and feelings began to flood in. I started thinking about football in ways I never had before. Plays, tactics, strategies—things I barely understood a few minutes ago suddenly made perfect sense.

The old me was fading away, and in his place, a new Ryan was emerging. This new version of me *knew* how to play football. I could picture myself on the field, reading defenses, making quick decisions, anticipating the moves of the other team. It felt as natural as breathing, like I had been doing it my whole life. The Golden Army had imprinted these skills and knowledge into my brain, reshaping my very identity.

I glanced around the room, watching as the same thing happened to my friends. Scott’s face, once sharp and angular, was now broader, his jawline square and strong. His glasses had been discarded, replaced by eyes that gleamed with a newfound confidence. He flexed his arms, grinning, clearly enjoying his new muscular form. His mind had changed too—I could see it in the way he held the football, like he already knew he was the leader on the field, our quarterback.

Joey, who had always been shy and soft-spoken, was now looking at his reflection in the window, grinning at the sight of his bulked-up body. His usual slouch was gone, replaced by a straight-backed stance that radiated self-assurance. His fingers twitched as if he was itching to catch a pass or make a play. He looked over at us and smirked, as if he had always been a part of this, always belonged here.

Derek, the smallest of us, was perhaps the most drastic transformation. He had gone from being the least athletic among us to one of the most intimidating. His shoulders had broadened, his neck thickened, and his arms were massive now, bulging with muscle that strained against the golden jersey. His usual timid expression was gone, replaced by a fierce determination. I could tell that the mental shift had been even stronger for him. The Derek I knew was quiet, bookish—but now, there was fire in his eyes. He looked ready to bulldoze through anyone in his way.

Even Eric, our Dungeon Master, was no longer the same. The intellectual intensity he’d always carried was still there, but it was tempered with an aggressive edge. His muscles were as big as the rest of ours, and I could see the gears turning in his head, already calculating plays and strategies for our new team.

And me... well, I was fully immersed in this new identity now. The Golden Army had done more than just change my body; they had rewired my brain. My old memories—of late nights rolling dice, debating over character stats—felt distant, like a dream fading in the morning light. In their place were new memories, new desires. The thrill of competition, the rush of adrenaline on the field, the camaraderie of my team—it all felt real, immediate, and, more importantly, right.

I could feel the old Ryan—the one who would rather hide behind a character sheet than step onto a field—slipping away. In his place was a new version of me. Someone who thrived on strength, speed, and competition. Someone who wanted to win, not just in a game of fantasy but in real life. The football field wasn’t just a new battlefield; it was where I belonged.

“Ready to crush it, man?” Scott asked, tossing the football to me.

I caught it effortlessly, my reflexes sharp, my hands steady. The old Ryan would’ve fumbled it, too shocked by everything that had just happened. But the new me? I was ready. I grinned, feeling a surge of confidence I had never known before.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice deeper and more assured. “Let’s go win this thing.”

We weren’t just a bunch of nerds anymore. We were the Golden Army. And there were more nerds waiting to be brocessed.

[belit0]

can you do a smut when itachi comes back from a long mission and misses his s/o so much 😞🙏🏻

sorry for bad English

Yes, pip,

The door hadn’t even shut behind him.

He was still in his mission gear, blood on his collar—not his, but it didn’t matter—he didn’t care.

His eyes scanned the room once, once only, and then he was moving.

When she turned, he was already there—shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, eyes starved.

No words.

No hesitation.

Itachi didn’t kiss her—he devoured her.

His mouth crashed into hers with an unspoken ache, teeth and tongue and the bitter taste of distance still clinging to his lips.

He didn’t slow, didn’t test the water.

He sank.

One arm braced above her head, the other gripped her hip so tight she’d find finger-shaped bruises there in the morning.

His fingers dragged her waistband down with a speed that spoke of need, not lust—need that pulsed like a second heartbeat.

He was trembling.

His breathing ragged, broken up by every place their bodies touched, Itachi was unhinged.

Not sloppy, no—never that—but so precise in his desperation it was almost painful.

His silence screamed.

Every movement was heavy with what he couldn't say, what he couldn’t feel on the battlefield, what he couldn’t feel without her.

He didn’t ask if she was ready.

Didn’t ask if she wanted this.

He knew.

She gasped, her back arching when he forced their bodies flush, every line of her molded to every scar of his.

She was still halfway in her clothes when he tugged at them roughly, baring only enough—just what he needed.

He didn’t strip her for pleasure.

He exposed her like a starving man breaking open fruit.

They slid down together, limbs tangled, his weight pressing into her as if he needed to fuse with her spine to believe she was real.

The floor was cold but she didn’t notice.

Not when he kissed her like that, not when he gripped her hips like the world might end if he let go.

And then he was inside her in one hard, ruthless thrust.

She cried out—not in pain, but in sheer force, in surrender—and wrapped her legs around him instantly, taking all of him without resistance.

Her fingers scraped down his spine, tugging him in deeper.

He didn't ease into her.

There was no easing when you'd spent weeks pretending your body wasn't breaking, your soul wasn't unraveling, your heart wasn't starving.

He buried himself in her like she was home.

Because she was.

-You’re here,- she whispered, breath hot against his ear, trembling as he pounded into her again, rough and unrelenting.

-You’re home.

He groaned, almost violently, and dropped his forehead to hers.

Their sweat mingled.

Her breath caught every time his hips snapped forward, the rhythm erratic and desperate, driven by something not physical at all.

There were no gentle caresses.

Only bruised kisses.

Only the slap of skin and the low, guttural sound of a man who didn’t know how else to ask for comfort.

Her lips brushed his jaw, his ear, the edge of his mouth—whispers steadying his storm.

-Take what you need. -I’ve got you.

He gave a strangled noise—half-snarl, half-plea—and his arms curled tighter around her, crushing her to him as he drove deeper.

Her eyes fluttered, mouth open with each brutal thrust, each aching sound torn from him.

He was barely holding himself together—she felt it.

Felt it in the way his fingers tugged against her skin, the way he buried his face in her neck to hide whatever broke loose inside him.

And when he came—tensed, breathless, shaking—he didn’t speak.

He just held her.

Buried deep.

Wrapped around her like armor.

The kind that cracked when you finally felt safe.

She stroked his back slowly, over the lines of tension that still vibrated beneath his skin.

His breath was ragged.

Still shallow.

He wouldn’t look at her yet.

But her voice was steady.

Calm.

-It’s over now. You’re here. With me.

And slowly, finally, he exhaled.

Not like a warrior.

Like a man.

[fridaysmind]

Skybound!Starcream x Yandere!reader

I love him so much. wanna just...ok, dont mind... !Skybound spoilers!

He was beautiful.

He marveled at his dazzling beauty when he first appeared. His eyes burned like wildfire, his every movement was so precise, so light, his flight through the sky seemed like a dance, if only he hadn't grinded human bodies in his huge metal palms with that very lightness. Not that this brutality spoiled him in any way. The splattering of people's blood seemed to freeze in the air as if in slow motion, and it seemed as if the petals of red roses were flying all around him. The monstrous screams of real terror of the crowd and deafening gun shots paled before his voice, his maniacal laughter. He appeared before mankind as a true angel of death.

He remained something unimaginable even after the betrayal of his brothers, a small, quick, and extremely violent rebellion. The other grouping had not had time to clean up the robot's unconscious body, and now he hung on chains, in a secret base underground, away from the prying eyes of others. Hanging without legs and one optic, with a haggard look, so defenseless he was still deadly at the same time.

It wasn't easy to bring the fighter to its senses, it couldn't be handled like a normal machine, but the effort was worth it. Of course, for the sake of general safety, his vision is limited and the chains are pulled tighter around, causing him to cling to even more attention. How cute he is, waking up in an unknown place, seeing nothing and unable to move. Adorable. Then shouts and a wave of questions, demands, assurances, threats. Everything but a hint of neutral, not even kind, words came out of his mouth. Like a sharpened blade, always ready to plunge into another's flesh. He'd promised to contact his own, but it was worth reminding him, oh, sweet warrior, who left you in this condition? Would they not come here just to finish their business? And the rage was replaced by a much quieter anger. Is it possible to wait long enough to speak of its beauty? Perhaps this task is easy for those ignorant enough to fail to recognize art. How dare they attack you after your labors and patience? How could they betray and mob you and tear you apart like a stranger? And even after that, you got up from your knees, said you dared not surrender, even offered compromises, but you did not run away, stood your ground and fell so honorably. You were perfect.

His wings twitch, trying to move, but patting the wall behind him with a clatter. Fantastic. A proud creature. Forgetting revenge and anger, he praises himself without the slightest bit of embarrassment and says his name in passing, along with words of power and conquest. Beautiful, sonorous, pleasing to the ear and tongue.

Starscream.

He doesn't think to stop, continues in his blinded and shackled state to utter insults in the direction of all those who dare to be against him, almost tearing his voice from his tirade about the unworthy and weak that have only miraculously lived millions of years on par with all the powerful individuals of their faction.

Millions of years, one wonders… and for such creatures to live so long, the luck for a human to live a hundred years is no more than a joke, a blink of an eye. And is it possible that at least the long decades of loyalty and patience for humans would one day be allowed to freely approach and leave a fleeting kiss on those lips that love to stretch in a cruel grin? It's a senseless and utterly stupid idea for sure, but for the sake of a ghostly chance one is willing to take a risk. To save him, to fix him, to help spread his wings again. And kiss.

Oh, Lord, if you hear my prayer, grant me the opportunity for just one fleeting kiss.

[scarlett-ggv]

Do you feel that?

Bumblebee x reader (NSFW)

The most satisfying thing about having an orgasm wasn't that feeling of uncontrollable ecstasy, nor the trembling of your legs with a slight ache, nor that intense pleasure in your center. But rather, the wonderful sight you could behold when you opened your eyes.

Frowning, eyes closed, and completely vulnerable before you, that instant was enough to achieve the perfection of the moment. His body, completely defeated, was enough to make you love him more and more. He was so charming, he always had been. Especially in those moments of weakness. You could clearly see how pleasure completely invaded him and how his body couldn't contain it properly. His hips continued to thrust involuntarily, slowly, ending the brief moment of intense pleasure, prolonging the last of his climax with erratic, desperate movements, clinging to the sensation until the last second.

You felt small, but above all, you were sure you were protected. He was enormous on top of you, enveloping you beneath him while you still felt his inner heat. He was trembling; so were you. But with him, the orgasm seemed to last longer; his arms trembled, unable to support his own weight. As you lay together, he fought not to collapse completely on top of you. He lowered his head, eyes still closed, motionless, absorbing every wave of pleasure that still throbbed inside him.

You gently stroked his arm as you gave him a faint smile he couldn't yet see, feeling his metallic body burning like crazy. The subtle vibration of his cooling system tried to regulate the overload of his structure, but its fragility at that moment only made it more beautiful. He pulled out of you, and you looked down; his member, completely wet, glistening, and proudly hard, revealed itself, a towering vision of insatiable desire. It seemed incredible how much he could endure, how strong he was even in his weakness. His hand descended, without waiting too long, an immediate instinct.

He began to masturbate slowly, up and down, up and down, the way he knew how, the way he liked best. His breathing, ragged and heavy with need, filled the air with an echo of suppressed desperation. But the trembling in his body made him fall. His arms couldn't hold it anymore. You didn't move, allowing him to find refuge in your warmth. He was closer to you now, and he barely had time to reach out to avoid crushing you.

It was a little surprising to see him so vulnerable. You had seen him fight countless times, enduring blows that would have shattered anyone, challenging his enemies with the determination of an indomitable warrior. Never, in any of those battles, had he found himself in this position: exhausted, trying to calm himself, shaking from the intensity of what he'd felt. Not even his greatest enemies could leave him in the state you'd left him in, which was ironic, because he wasn't bad at all.

I bet he'd want to stay like this all day if he could experience even a fraction of this ecstasy.

You laughed softly as he slowly recovered, his gaze still clouded by the last vestiges of pleasure. You caught his attention with a soft whisper; the echo of your voice pulled him back to reality.

His gaze met yours, bright, lost in the fog of desire that had yet to completely dissipate. His optics scanned your face, and for a moment, he said nothing. He simply watched you, as if he wanted to memorize every detail, as if you were a secret he treasured deep within his memory.

Her eyes looked up at him, glowing with the warm glow of fatigue and contentment. A soft, almost sleepy glow, but charged with something deeper, more possessive. Her lips, barely parted, still letting out the last vestiges of her labored breathing, and then, with exquisite slowness, they curved into a smile. It wasn't just any smile, it wasn't a simple expression of fleeting joy, but something more intimate, more dangerous.

It was the smile of someone who had just seen him surrender completely. Of someone who had felt him tremble, shattered with pleasure, and fall into the abyss beside her. A smile that said without words: "I've seen you vulnerable. I've held you like this, on top of me, inside me, lost, surrendered."

He stared at your face, at the way the light played on your damp skin, at the way your lips still trembled with the echo of what had happened. He could feel it, he could see it in the way her optics flickered slowly, in the way her system was still vibrating, struggling to cool. And yet, there she was, smiling at him with that enveloping softness, with that sweetness that contrasted with the intensity of what they had just shared.

Her fingers, weak but tender, ran over the warm metal of his arm, feeling the pulse of its overload. And he, even with his face inches from hers, his breathing heavy and ragged, could do nothing but watch her… and smile back.

He moved his hand with reverent slowness, caressing you with the delicacy of someone touching something sacred. His fingers brushed your cheek, tracing its contours as if he wanted to engrave it in his memory. They went up and down in a slow caress, like someone savoring touch, like someone afraid of forgetting the softness of the skin they adore.

His thumb ran over your chin, pausing for a moment, holding you with the tenderness of a silent oath. Each touch was a wordless confession, a silent plea for this moment to never end.

"My beautiful girl," he whispered, his voice a deep, warm echo, a promise wrapped in adoration. His words slipped into your chest, tangled in your breath, igniting something warm in your belly.

You smiled, barely, with that sweetness that disarmed him. You half-opened your eyes, looking at him through lazy eyelashes, heavy with the intoxication of the moment. You said nothing, because you didn't need to. Because sometimes, love is best expressed in silence, on the skin, like two souls meeting without needing to speak.

You laughed softly, and so did he. The laughter mingled with the warmth of the moment, with the certainty of knowing he was in the right place. You hugged him gently.

<--------------------------------------------------------------->

Si Bumblebee era tan bueno por que no me detonó?

I'M OBSESSED WITH HIMMMMMMM

Shit translator

BOOM SHALAKAAAAAA YESSS GAWDDDD YES GODD

I'm working on A LOT, I have 235,654 ideas that came to me , ty.The next one will be Jazz or another Autobot.

[bubblebaththoughts]

Biting/Marking

Tsu’tey x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

kinkmas masterlist

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Biting, Marking, Very protective Tsu’tey, P in V

translation:

Paskalin - sweet berry

Tsu’tey watched from a distance, though you could practically feel his eyes on you.

From the jump, Tsu’tey had a bad feeling about the younger warrior you were training, and now he watched silently as you continuously pushed the boy’s hands off of you.

He could step in, but he warned you before the day had even begun, this was your problem to deal with.

“You’re not going to do anything?” His fellow warrior chuckled

“I told her to stay away from him.” Tsu’tey crossed his arms, a small pout on his lips

The other man put his hands up in surrender, no need to argue with Tsu’tey, especially when it came to you, of all things.

All he was waiting for was you, just a glance in his direction and he would stride over and put the boy in his place.

But you were stubborn, Eywa you were so stubborn.

Fury flooded through his veins as he saw the boys hand slip around your waist.

“Someone’s jealous.” Another friend teased, earning a glare from Tsu’tey in return

When he glanced back to you, his eyes finally met your panicked ones. In his mind, that was his go ahead.

He sauntered over, a look of disgust taking over his face.

“No! Go here, up here!” You tried to maneuver the boys arms up, to no avail

Tsu’tey cleared his throat, making the boy, look up in surprise “Everything going well over here?”

“Just fine.” The boy answered before you could

“N-no! Not fine! It’s like you’re purposely messing these forms up!” You complained

“Let us show him then, hm?” Tsu’tey suggested

You didn’t argue, so Tsu’tey manhandled you in front of him, he took a second to sweep your hair off of your shoulder, letting it fall down your back. The small move revealed a healing bite mark on your skin.

Tsu’tey watched the boys reaction to his mark on your skin. His eyes looked between you and Tsu’tey in surprise, while his face screwed in disbelief.

“I was doing that!” The handsy boy whined, gesturing to you

“You’re done for today.” Tsu’tey declared “Go home.” He waved him off, taking you by the hand

The boy stomped off, looking back every so often with a sour look on his face.

Tsu’tey’s eyes flickered around at their surroundings, “Come with me.” He didn’t wait for her answer, choosing to pull her along to a nearby wooded area, where they could have privacy.

“Are you really upset-“ You started, but you shut up after Tsu’tey gently pushed your back to a tree

“You let him touch you?” He asked, not really expecting an answer, but still, you shook your head no.

His hand rose up to your shoulder once again “I guess one wasn’t enough.” He pressed down on the bruised bite mark, making you wince. “Not enough to show them all what belongs to me.”

“Maybe I should give you more.” He suggested, his lip curled up slightly

“No!” You tried to push yourself off of the tree, but he only shoved you back.

“Oh? Why not?” He tilted his head, his hands now had you pinned to n the tree

“It hurt.” You complained

“It hurt.” He mocked you, “I think that’s the point, you know?”

“You’re such a baby, Tsu’tey.” You accused “Nothing happened!”

“But something could have happened.” His hand found your cheek, he leaned in, hovering slightly over your lips. “You didn’t think this… mark, was such a bad idea when I had my cock buried in you, what’s wrong now Paskalin?”

“That’s not fair!” You complained, trying to lean in to let your lips meet

“Maybe that’s just what you need.” Tsu’tey entertained, “My cock… To show you what’s right, yeah?”

You pressed your body against him, and he could feel the heat emanating from you. His hands moved up your body, memorizing every curve of your skin all over again.

Your breath came in quick, shallow pants as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and crevice with a hunger that made you gasp. His fingertips were like lightning, scorching your skin with pleasure.

Tsu’tey leaned your back against the rough bark of the tree, and you felt the thrill of anticipation as he moved in closer. His lips met yours hungrily, and he explored your mouth with his tongue.

You felt his hands slide down your body, and your breath caught in your throat as Tsu’tey began to untie the top that barely covered your breasts

He trailed kisses down your neck as he worked, and when he finally peeled your skimpy top away, you shivered with pleasure.

His lips moved lower, and you moaned softly as his mouth found your breasts. His hands moved around to your back, and he pulled you against him, bodies melding together as one.

Tsu’tey lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you deeper into the woods. His hands explored your body, his fingers slipping over your nipples, softly caressing the sensitive buds. Your nipples hardened in response, your body trembled as he scoffed at how easily you were already ready for him.

He laid you on the ground, his hands tearing at your loincloth, and you fumbled with his, both eventually were ripped off, joining you on the forest floor.

He looked down at you, his gaze hungry as he ran his hands down your body, his fingers tracing circles around your nipples.

You reached for him, your hands clinging to him as he bent to take your breast in his mouth. You gasped as his tongue moved over it, his teeth nipping and teasing you until you were moaning in pleasure.

He moved up to your collarbone, a sweet kiss placed there before a sharp pain. Hit bit you.

“Tsu’tey!” You groaned out, your hands pulling him up by his jaw

“Mine.” He growled, taking the second to lean it once again and kiss you.

His lips were rough, and his hands were rougher. He brought them down to your waist, roughly pulling you against him.

His hands moved lower, his fingers slipping between your legs as you gasped in pleasure.

Tsu’tey loved that you were his, and he loved to show that off. He moved over you, pushing himself down to your legs.

He slowly licked his way from your ankle to your thigh, teasing you with each stroke of his tongue. His hands moved up your body, caressing your curves as his mouth reached your center. He parted your delicate folds with his tongue, exploring your inner depths and making you quiver in pleasure. He traced circles around your clit, taking his time to make sure you were ready for him.

When he finally gave in to your pleas, he moved his tongue in circles, flicking it against you in just the right way. He sucked on your clit, making you gasp with pleasure, and then pushed his tongue further inside you, as far as he could. His hands moved up to your hips, holding you in place while he tasted you.

He moved his mouth all over, teasing you with every flick of his tongue. He felt your body tense and convulse as you reached your climax, and he smiled as he felt your body relax in his arms. He kissed it one last time, and then he pulled away, leaving you panting for more.

He moved back up, his mouth glistening with your slick and his spit as he leaned in to kiss your neck.

“Tsu’tey! Please!” You sighed into his ears

“Please what? What are you begging for?” He asked, letting his teeth graze your neck

“I want you.”

Tsu’tey’s eyes glanced down at you. “You have me, don’t you?”

A pout formed on your lips as you tried to buck your hips against his.

He pushes your hips down, “Now you know that will get you nowhere.” He tuts “You only have to ask.”

“I did ask.” You tried to pull him in by his shoulders but he stayed solid in place

He only laughed, taking a second to spread your legs and settle himself between them.

“What is it that you want?” He asked once he had already lined his cock up with your glistening pussy.

“I want you inside.” You flushed, now embarrassed because he made you use your words

“See? Look at how easy that was.” Tsu’tey smiled as he tilted his hips to line up with yours.

He gently pushed the tip in, you were holding your breath. It didn’t matter how many times you and Tsu’tey had been together, it was always a bit of a stretch for you.

“Feeling alright, yawne?” He asked, his own words trembling now

You nodded, because that was all you could do.

Tsu’tey got a mischievous look on his face “Good.” And he pushed the rest of himself inside.

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue on the forest floor. You were lying there, eyes wide, breathing heavily, feeling your body quiver with anticipation.

He began thrusting, slowly at first, then faster and faster. You could feel yourself being taken higher and higher with each thrust. He grasped your hips, pushing himself deeper and deeper into you.

You shuddered beneath him, your body trembling as he moved faster and faster. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as he drove himself into her, your bodies crashing together as you moved closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh you’re almost there aren’t you?” Tsu’tey asked, though he already knew your answer

You answered him with a frantic nod, with urged him to fuck you harder, chasing both his and your own orgasm.

As your body started to tense, you feel your pleasure growing and intensifying. Every nerve in your body is alive with sensations, and you can feel the waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Tsu’tey smiled down at you as he fucked you, hard and intense. Your eyes were barely able to stay open and keep eye contact with him.

“Come on, yawne, stay with me. You’re r-right there, I know- Yeah I know.” He caged you against him, pressing you fully in between him and the forest floor.

Your breathing deepens and quickens, and you feel your muscles start to contract in anticipation. You feel your entire body trembling with anticipation, and each wave of pleasure is more intense than the last.

Your breath catches as you reach the peak of pleasure, and your body rocks with the intensity of the orgasm. Every muscle is tensed and you can feel the heat radiating from your core. Tsu’tey could feel you squeezing around him, the feeling that kept him going, rutting into you hard, hitting the deep spots.

Your body quivers and quakes as you reach the ultimate climax. You feel your entire body trembling with pleasure, and each wave of pleasure is more intense than the last.

Your body is wracked with pleasure, every cell in your body alive with it. Every sensation is exquisitely intense, and you can feel the energy radiating through your body.

Tsu’tey was throbbing inside of you, your gushing walls suffocated him and he knew he was about to cum.

As the intense pleasure slowly fades, you feel as if your entire body is alive with pleasure. Every nerve in your body is still tingling, and you can still feel the warmth radiating from your core.

Your eyes find Tsu’tey once again, but his eyes were closed. As your orgasm fades, you feel him push deep inside you, his hot cum filling you up and sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

A sharp pain brings you back to him, his teeth had sunk into your neck, biting you again today, another mark to show you off as his.

“Maybe that’ll work.” Tsu’tey growled into your ear

Your whines slowly fade as Tsu’tey pulls out. “Don’t ever, ever, entertain that behavior from him, or anyone else, ever again.” He whispered against you cheek, leaning back in to kiss your lips before he began to clean you up.

@danniackerman @loaksslut