#that you’ve viewed as signs of weakness

[muttzteef]

get urself a partner who helps u let ur guard down <3

[sttoru]

can we get a pervert toji? as nasty as possible :3

“ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ! ”

ෆ note. yehahshsbe yeeass please i love perv!toji.. :3 actually any perv!character s my weakness hehdhen i went a little wild writing this oopsie this is so detailed ohmyogddd anyways….. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

ෆ tags. perv!toji x female reader. somnophilia, age gap (reader early 20s, toji mid 30s), panties stealer, m! masturbation, daddy kink, implied threesome, cunnilingus, breeding (talks of pregnancy), manhandling, overstimulation, size difference, cum play, boob job, name calling (slut), cervic fucking, mating press, calls you ‘baby, little girl, doll’, uhh anyway toji’s just a big pervert who gets turned on by anything. includes compilation of seperate, small drabbles.

toji, whom you wouldn’t have guessed was a pervert of any kind at the start of your relationship. your first intimate experience with him went as expected; it was soft and slow vanilla sex. you were just getting to know each other’s preferences in bed, so for the first few times there were almost to no signs of toji’s sexual perversity. all you remember was him being the dominant one. nothing more.

but oh, there was so much more to that. it was just hidden from your view in the early stages of your relationship. you didn’t have any knowledge of what toji was doing behind your back or what his actual thoughts were during the times you’ve been intimate.

toji, whom you didn’t know wanted to get straight into business from the very beginning of your sex life; to have your wrists pinned above your head, his hips slamming into your small cunt and molding it to remember the shape of his big cock. toji needed to see your helpless body moaning, screaming, crying and drooling from underneath him. but he couldn’t achieve that just yet; he needed to take it easy on you at first—to build up the trust between you two in bed. especially because you weren’t as experienced as he was.

toji, whom could only count on his imagination to fulfil his secret desires. he does this whenever you’re staying over and are asleep in his bed next to him. the entire apartment would be dead quiet except for toji’s muffled grunts and the faint wet sounds of him jerking off underneath the blanket.

you’d be in deep slumber with your back facing him and he’ll pleasure himself at simply the sight of your body. the older man loved just how vulnerable and innocent you seemed in your sleep—leaving your figure open and accessible to his view.

the strokes on his cock would get faster each time his eyes land on the shape of your ass. toji always imagines how it’d look when he’s giving you backshots, how the fat would jiggle with each thrust or smack of his hand. he wants to see your plump ass bounce back on him and maybe even have it covered in his cum.

toji, who sometimes stops palming himself just to turn your body around to face him. that way he can have a great view of your tits and fantasise of putting his cock between them, having the pair swallow his entire length once he squeezes them together. he’s never talked to you about it, but he will one day when you’re ready to explore more kinks and stuff in the bedroom.

toji, who keeps a pair of your panties in a secret drawer. those are his special panties, aka, the ones he uses to jerk off when you’re away. he’s done the filthiest of stuff with them; he has sniffed the insides-as if the scent of your sweet cunt lingered on the fabric- he has wrapped the cloth around his thick cock and even came multiple times all over it. he always imagines it being your pussy that he spills his load in; not his fist nor the panties.

toji, whose switch gets flipped the moment you (accidentally) call him ‘daddy’ in bed. it slipped from your mouth in the heat of the moment and the older man had to stop all movements to stare down at you— the scarred corner of his lip twitching and eventually forming a full on smirk.

not only that: it was like his entire demeanour changed. toji got more arrogant, cocky, confident and especially more dominant ever since then. that slip up of yours was the reason toji decided to let go of any restraints and just fuck you like he was always meant to do: nasty, dirty and roughly.

“yeah? mhh, fuck— say that again f’me, little girl— c’mon. if ya won’t, i’ll pull out and leave y’r cunt empty, so you better hurry up.”

toji, whose libido only increases with age rather than the opposite. you’d think dating an older guy in his mid 30s would mean that he’s going to be less sexually active. well, toji was your living proof that that wasn’t the case.. at all. he gets his dick hard just by seeing a tiny bit of your cleavage, never says ‘no’ to fucking you no matter where or when and has so much stamina that he can go on until you’re passed out. sometimes you’re fucked so full of his cum to the point that it’s impossible to push it all back into you— the white liquid just keeps leaking out of your poor pussy no matter what.

it makes toji super proud whenever you’re passed out on the bed, body still twitching and quivering in your sleep whilst he finishes himself within a few more pumps. he’s proud that he still has it in him and can last way longer compared to you, who’s still young and full of energy.

“aww, poor little baby— fucked ya right to sleep, hm? c’mere.”

toji, whose secret drawer slowly piles up with raunchy pictures of you in all kinds of comprising positions. most of them are images taken from his point of view which he captures between videos. some of them are of your ass with his dick visible between your folds, others are pictures of your fucked out self— the state which toji thinks you look the most beautiful in.

his cum dripping from your cunt, your hair a mess, sweaty skin glistening under the dim light of the room, cheeks stained with your own tears; that afterglow was something toji liked to admire. that’s why keeps those memories in his drawer (but also to masturbate to them when you’re not around, of course).

toji, who’s on cloud nine whenever he gets the chance to drown your fertile womb in multiple loads of his hot cum. he was already over the moon once you told him he could hit it raw— but then you were begging him to cum in you? that man was not going to stop at just one round. that was set in stone.

the mating press is his favourite position since it allowed him to penetrate you deep— pink tip almost painfully hitting your cervix over and over again. toji also likes it because he can get to see your pretty face whenever he shoots ropes of his potent seed inside of your womb.

toji, who’d never admit it out loud, but desperately needs to see you grow a little belly full of a new life. one which you carry with you everywhere— even whilst attending your college lectures. he can’t get the image out of his head; you wearing those skintight shirts or materinity clothes that show off your swollen stomach. he’s gonna be so proud walking next to you on the streets, knowing you’re his baby mama.

“mmh, shit— gnna fuck a baby into you, yeah? haah,, wanna see you carry my child ‘round and have you be my baby mama. hmm, you’d like that? i knew you’d do, slut— i bet everyone at y’r college is gonna know who knocked you up.”

toji, who has dirty fantasies of sharing you with his agent. he’s never thought about it before, but there was one single moment that changed his mind.

shiu visited his place once to discuss a business deal and you coincidentally were over at toji’s as well. you were kind enough to serve the two men a meal while they were discussing something which you didn’t understand. you sat down and joined them anyway (much to shiu’s dismay since it was confidential information he was sharing, but toji insisted you’d stay or he won’t take on the job. he could be petty every now and then.)

toji’s mind began wandering to some dirty thoughts as he looked at you, peacefully sitting between the two men, your fingers playing with toji’s out of boredom. your lover was instantly intrigued by the idea of having you sandwiched between shiu and him—your holes stuffed with two cocks at the same time. or just you sucking toji off while shiu was pounding your tight pussy. that alone made toji’s dick twitch in his pants.

once shiu was gone, toji wasted no time and pinned you against the wall near the front door— kicking his sweatpants and underwear away whilst his calloused fingers pulled your panties to the side;

“c’mere, lemme put that cunt to use— did y’know how close i was to jus’ fuckin’ you right in front of him? to let him see how good of a girl you can be f’me? mhmm, might even call him back so he join us.”

toji, who eats pussy like an absolute madman. he’s obsessed with eating you out and making it messy—his spit and your body fluids are always all over his lips, chin and cheeks when he’s done with you. one moment you’re chilling on the couch in your shorts and in the next you’re arching your back as toji’s head was nestled between your thighs.

he’d moan and grunt against you, his voice creating vibrations against your cunt which only adds to the pleasure that his mouth and tongue were giving you. toji’s nose would rub against your wet folds, his big hands holding your thighs apart while his tongue was lapping up all that it could. he definitely sniffs your pussy as well from time to time;

“mmm— aw, gonna cum already? do it, wanna taste you so bad, wanna see you cum all over my tongue. c’mon, you can do it—mhmmm, yes you can. do it for me, doll. cum for daddy. give it to him.”

[princesssmars]

making abby squirt with the nails she just paid for…nsfw.

you had seen the cutest nail set one of your friends got on her instant story, and after complimenting her and getting the techs account you couldn’t stop your eyes from widening a little at the prices.

but you only get time to pout about it for a few minutes before abby is prodding you about what’s wrong, scoffing at your complaint about the expensive service and telling you that she’ll ’handle it’.

you almost thought she was kidding until she urged you to book the appointment, even driving you to the location and putting the cash in your hand with a kiss.

so what better way to admire your new nails and repay the favor to abby then to make her go crazy with pleasure beneath you?

well, technically in front of you, trapped between your legs as the both of you face your floor length mirror. convincing her to not only completely bottom for a night but to also use a mirror was a challenge, but with some pleading and batted eyelashes she gave in.

it’s funny to think about, how she tried to be so tough and act like she she didn’t want to be on the bottom like she wasn’t currently moaning and twitching like her life depended on it. you bring up a hand that was grasping her large thigh up to her breast, lightly pinching her left nipple and giggling at the broken sob that leaves her lips.

“please, please, ‘s too much.” her begging is raspy, throat strained by the constant use of her voice. her hands are tied up behind her back and you can feel her trying to free them by the jabbing of her shoulders into yours.

“aww, poor baby.” you coo, pressing sweet kisses to the side of her cheek and neck, heart warming when she pushes her head back onto your shoulder for more affection.

“you’ve only had three, and you always give me at least five. what’s wrong, can dish it but can’t take it?”

she lets out a groan as you simultaneously bite her neck while moving your right hand back down to her pussy, not bothering with teasing her further and instantly going to rub over her clit until she’s the one biting into your neck, hips jerking and mumbling words you can’t make out other than that she’s so close, she’s so god damn close-

you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing as a steady stream of liquid ejects from her, squirting onto the sheets, the floor, even the fucking mirror, giving you the perfect view of the sight of her cumming with your hand still rubbing between her legs, too weak to close her legs to stop you.

all too soon her body calms down, sweaty heap of muscles resting into your chest as her chest rises and falls while she tries to catch her breath. her eyes are closed while she tries to bring herself back, only opening when she hears the telltale sign of you sucking your fingers, hoping it doesn’t show on her face that the heat is already growing again between her thighs.

“can i pay for your nails every time if you do this?”

“of course you can, baby.”

“great. really great. geez, what’ll happen if i pay for your hair appointment next?”

“i’m getting you pregnant, is what.”

“wait, what?”

sorry i thought the ending was funny. idk why i’m writing so much bottom abby am i giving fake pillow princess. ok bye.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Idk if you watched the movie Were the Millers?? But can you do imagine where reader never had a first kiss and charles and lando give her her first kiss ?? Like the scene with Jenn Anniston, will poulter, and Emma roberts ???

Grounded || LN4 & CL16

AN: Been a while since I watched it but this was fun to write ☺️ virgin!fem!reader

The backseat to Lando’s Range Rover was spacious and you stretched your legs out to settle in for the drive. A snow storm had grounded the planes in London and Lando had offered to put you both up for the night. As Charles assistant you had tried your best to find a hotel but with Christmas right around the corner everything decent was booked out.

Lando had said to call him if you ever needed anything, but you hadn’t been brave enough to use it until now.

“Are you sure it’s okay to drive in the snow?”

“It’s 4 wheel drive,” Lando replied as he looked at you in the rear view mirror and reassured you with a smile. “We’ll be fine, but if we get stuck at least we can huddle for warmth.”

Your eyes widened at the departing wink in the mirror and your cheeks could have melted all the snow within the greater London area. It would have been a service to the city worth a damehood by the King himself.

“Stop teasing my assistant, Lando,” Charles said with a laugh. “She accidentally deleted my calendar the last time you flirted with her.”

You wanted to argue but he had left you so frazzled you hit the wrong buttons on your iPad. It had been mortifying and the fact your boss was bringing it up again only made you slink lower in the leather seat. It was hard enough to work with such a handsome man, but the fact that his friends that he competed against were just as handsome made your life much harder. At least Charles paid you so there was a line of employee/employer relationship that kept things professional, but there was still the occasional comment that crossed that line - and you never knew how to handle it. Mostly, your brain just shut down.

Shoving your AirPods in, you started to open Spotify to find a distraction from your embarrassment and they both noticed it.

“I can’t help it, you cannot tell me that you don’t find the innocent vibe hot?”

Your fingers froze over the song you were about to play and realised they thought you were already listening to something.

“She’s my assistant.”

“That’s not a denial.” Lando was grinning from ear to ear. “I bet she’s still a virgin.”

You spluttered indignantly and both men looked at you, Charles over his shoulder and Lando in the mirror. Tugging the AirPods out you narrowed your eyes and lied, “I am not a vir-” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it but you swallowed and took another attempt, “virgin.”

The weak lie caused a crack in the press of lips, until both men laughed outright. Huffing, you crossed your arms and looked out the window. “Does it really even matter?”

“Aren’t you even curious?” Lando shot back.

“I know all about sex, for Christ’s sake, I do read.”

“I’m not sure reading is quite the same as doing in this case,” Charles said, remembering the many times he caught you slamming a book closed at his entrance. He was even more intrigued about those thick volumes now.

“Reading doesn’t threaten to leave me disappointed as I have heard men tend to do.”

Lando scoffed and shook his head. “I haven’t had that complaint. Charles?”

“No, no complaints either.”

“I’m sure it’s less romantic than the books describe too, like kissing. What is so good about possibly chipping a tooth, or sharing saliva?”

The SUV screeched to a halt into a rest stop and Lando turned in his seat. “Wait. You’re telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Charles asked, before he turned and saw the telltales signs of your discomfort. “No, really? How? You are beautiful.”

Your mind went to that place of thoughtlessness, where every neurotransmitter misfired and your heart seemed to find itself beating in two places. “Uh…” you scrambled for an answer that they patiently waited for. “I don’t have any time to date so it just hasn’t come about.”

Charles certainly utilised your availability to be on call 24/7 but he hadn’t thought about the personal cost that took on you. He assumed you didn’t have or want a social life, not that he was the cause for it. Maybe that was why he next words slipped out without censoring, or so he told himself. “I will kiss you, right now.”

“Or I can, and I’m not your boss so there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it,” Lando countered, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “Everyone deserves a perfect first kiss.”

You gripped the seatbelt across your chest as you tried to understand why they were both unbuckled and opening their doors. Cold air rushed in as both backdoors opened and they slipped in beside you, mist billowing from their breath before the warmth was sealed inside once more.

Your lips felt dry and they watched as the tip of your tongue peeked out between to wet them. Your fingers were gently pried off the belt until each hand was laced with theirs but you still stared ahead at the unhappy quiet road. “What if I don’t want to be kissed?”

Lando scoffed but Charles turned you to face him with one curled finger under your chin and a look that made breathing impossible. “Then tell me you don’t want to be kissed,” he whispered as his lips drew nearer, his breath fanning your cheek. The touch of his lips were chaste at best, a caress on cheek before trailing closer to the place where words failed. Your toes clenched in your boots and you trembled with anticipation until the air burst back into your burning lungs. Your lips parted with the intake and he struck.

Your stomach that had been knotted suddenly erupted in the explicable feeling you had only read about. Butterflies, chaotic and energetic, fluttered joyously around your insides and a foreign sound escaped your lips that danced with his.

“I think she likes that, Charles.” A hand on your throat stole you from the taste that you certainly wanted more of and when you opened your eyes you found the pair change from green to blue. “My turn, gorgeous.”

Lando didn’t tease. His hand squeezed and you gasped in response, a sound so similar to what Charles had drawn from you. He took the opening you gave him and devoured you with the hunger of a starving man. His tongue dominated yours as he tipped your head back and deepened the kiss further until you were certain you were going to be consumed by him.

You welcomed it.

You weren’t adept enough after two kisses to know whose was better, both left you yearning for more. But they were parked on the side of the road and you were all too well aware that losing your virginity in the back seat of a Ranger was not what you wanted. Even if your body screamed yes.

“How do you feel?” Charles asked as he eyed your swollen lips and your dilated pupils between your flustered blinks with pride.

“Uh…” You told yourself to think but it was nearly impossible, and the men chuckled with the knowledge they had kissed you stupid.

“Just think of what other ‘firsts’ we could be,” Lando offered as he ran a thumb along your bottom lip, wanting another taste. “We could be snowed in for a while.”

“Wait, what?” They cut through your mental haze with clarity and you sat up straighter. “No, the airport said tomorrow…”

Charles shrugged and your brows pinched. “The storm’s worsening, it might be a few days until the planes can take off.”

“It’s okay,” Lando assured you with a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll look after you.”

[xozombiee]

“𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝒀!” | C. KAMO

✫| synopsis: emoboy!choso who works at spencer’s sees how nervous you are about trying out a new toy, so he offers to help!

warnings: sex toy usage, pet names as always :3 (sweetheart, honey, baby, etc), lowkey switch!reader, braindead!choso at the end LMFAOO, little hair pulling, no protection used..wrap it up. uhhh idk what else

notes: uhh guys pretend that batteries are included for vibes LMFAOO and..do i have a thing for car sex?

your feet ache as you walk through the mall. a friend was supposed to meet you half an hour ago to go shopping for dresses, only for her to text and say ‘sorry gotta cancel’.

the public chatter of others fill your head as you walk. since you were already here, you figured you’d look around. it’s been a while since you’ve shopped for yourself, and you were in desperate need of a new vibrator.

a colorful sign from the distance catches your attention. it read ‘spencer’s’ in orangey-yellow words. they sold sex toys right? the last time you checked they did. your eyes light up, figure walking a little faster toward the store.

when you enter, you’re met with the sight of shirts on display against the wall, a rack of hoodies and sweatshirts with ugly anime designs on them, and the section with shot glasses with corny messages written on them.

you pretend to be just shopping for a few minutes, not wanting to immediately go to the back of the store. as you pick through some of the clothes on a rack, a voice startled you from behind.

“need help finding anything, ma’am?” the voice asks lowly.

turning swiftly, you’re met with the sight of a taller man. the name on his tag read ‘choso’ with a small sticker next to it. he was young, had piercings along his ears and one on his lip, and a faint pink scar along the bridge of his nose that stretched out to his cheeks.

and he was kinda cute.

you find yourself staring for longer than needed. with a quick nod, you advert your gaze to something else.

“no, no. i’m fine. thank you though.” you reply nervously.

“well, if you need anything just let me know, yeah?” he replies, sounding uninterested.

you give him another nod before he walks off, tending to other customers. watching him out of the corner of your eye, you sigh a little.

this was the reason why you needed a new vibrator immediately. any attractive male that approached you was in danger. you’re surprised you didn’t jump him when he first walked over.

when you make sure no one’s watching, you quickly make your way to the back of the store. the small pink and purple bullets and vibrators come into view as you try to casually approach.

after hiding your body between the shelves by the wall, you look at all of your options. a bullet? nah, you’d already tried that. maybe go for something bigger?

your gaze catches on a cute, pink 8.5 inch vibrator with a ‘rabbit’ attached. before you can even stop yourself, you reach for it. the box made seem like the size was nothing. with a small shrug, you clutch the box next to your thigh. you had to find something else to buy with it.

yes, buying sex toys was normal to society, but it wasn’t normal for you.

after maybe ten minutes, you cautiously make way to the cashier. your eyes are glued to the floor as you put your things up on the counter. hopefully no one would see you walking out the store with a pink dildo in your bag.

“find everything alright?” that voice says again.

you look up with wide eyes, the pierced man with two space buns staring back at you. choso held no amusement in his eyes like you thought he would; he was nonchalant if anything. you give him a nod, looking to the snacks hanging from the counter.

your voice was weak, “a little..overwhelmed, but yeah.”

he flashes you a small smile, putting the toy and socks into a bag. “overwhelmed? this your first time shopping for—” he pauses, glancing down at the bag.

it was obvious he was just trying to make conversation, but you weren’t all that interested. still, you tried to be respectful.

“er..not really. i mean, i’ve had one before, but it’s-” you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “i’ve never tried that kind before.” you answer, going a little quiet at the end.

he raises a brow, “never had one with the rabbit?” he asks without really putting thought into his words.

a small nervous laugh falls from you, shaking your head in reply. with that, he leans forward a little, his eyes scanning your figure.

“i’ll show you how to use it if you want.”

your mouth goes dry, looking at him slightly appalled.a chill went up your spine from just his words. your shaky hands move to grab your wallet, brain attempting to find the words wanting to be freed from your throat.

you blink a few times, “you’ll show me? as in..”

choso looks at you, the uninterested expression still on his face. “my shift ends in twenty. i’m parked on the side by macy’s.” he says, watching a few people walk into the store.

now…you’d be an idiot to not meet him. but the contemplation was there. you could just go home, try the toy out yourself. that’d be the sane thing to do.

however, you hadn’t used that small little bullet on your bedside in months since buying a new one was always something you brushed off. so, you weren’t gonna miss this chance to get some dick.

you insert your card into the reader, feeling choso’s eyes on you. when the small device rings, you take it out, putting it back in your wallet.

he hands you the bag, your fingers brushing over his as you take it. it was like an electric current ran into your arm by his touch. you chew on the skin inside your cheek, feet staying planted in front of the counter despite your head telling you to move.

“i’ll see you in twenty.” you say, slowly walking away from the counter.

choso watches you in surprise. he partly only said that for a reaction, the sadist in him wanting to see your cute little eyes widen from his words.

when you exit the store, turning around the corner and leaving his sight with your cute skirt flowing, the crotch in his sweats begin to harden. it left little for an imagination choso wouldn’t need now, and every tomorrow, he hopes.

twenty minutes seem to pass quickly. you stand outside the macy’s entrance, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. the doors slide open, the sound catching your attention. you look up to see choso, space buns and all.

he nods toward the parking lot, motioning for you to follow. and you do, like a clueless puppy. choso leads you to a black colored toyota parked in the back of the lot.

his thumb presses one of the buttons on his keys, unlocking the car with a noise. he pulls you to the passengers side, opening the door for you. his hand finds your lower back as you climb inside. when he assures you’re in all the way, he closes the door.

you watch him from inside, his legs carrying him to the drivers side slower than you’d prefer. when he gets in, he settles into the seat with a soft groan. his hand finds the ignition, slotting the key in and turning it to start the car.

it rumbles lightly, the sound filling the silence between you two. you watch as he turns the wheel with one hand as the car starts to move.

minutes start to pass as you watch him, not even questioning where you were going. he could’ve been taking you somewhere to kill you..would you care? not really.

when he finally parks, you’re in a more secluded area of the mall parking lot. he was near the empty sears that had been closed for about five years, the blue sign still hanging high up.

choso glances over at you, or rather the bag in your lap that you clutched tightly onto.

“open it up.”

you blink at him for a second before complying, hands moving to unravel it from the bag. your delicate fingers try to tear the tape off of it, but struggle as it’s not letting up against the box.

he notices, lip twitching at the side as he watched. one of his hands come up to your wrist, taking the box in his other. you watch as he slowly pulls a blade from his pocket, cutting through the tape with ease.

choso notices your expression, the confusion written all over it as your eyes continue to look at the blade.

he chuckles, closing it and putting it back into his pants. “i was opening some new merch that came in the store today. forgot to give it back to yuki.”

you let a small ‘oh’ fall from your lips in understanding. choso takes the box back into his grasp, unraveling the toy from its packaging. the sight of something pink comes into view, and your eyes widen at how small it looks in his hand.

choso fidgets with it, “you said you’ve never tried one of these?”

“no.” you reply, keeping your eyes trained on the object in his hand. “i’ve only ever used one of the bullets.”

he sighs a little, looking up at you. “get in the back.”

you look at him, brows raised in surprise, “what?”

the pierced male leans forward, his face inches from your own. “get in the back.”

despite the music from the car’s stereo playing lowly in the background, your audible gulp overpowered it. you let out a shaky breath as you move to your knees, climbing into the backseat of the car.

he watches you, the skirt you wore lifting up as you shoved yourself in the back. choso followed soon after, moving to sit beside you in the closed space.

you watch him from the other side of the backseat with your shoulders pressed against the window. one of your legs propped itself onto the seat between you two, the other on the floorboard.

choso glances down at your underwear that was shying underneath the cloth on your legs. a small wet patch adorned the lacy piece you wore. his hand slowly moves to you ankle, his thumb moving back and forth against your skin.

“is it okay if i touch you?” he asks in a whisper.

a quick nod comes from you in response. your eager eyes watch him, expecting him to move closer to you.

his hand trails up further on your leg, “words, sweetheart.”

“please, choso.” you whine, enjoying that electric feeling from his skin on yours again.

choso gives you a sympathetic look. “please what? need you to be specific, honey.”

“touch me.”

he lets his hand move up your leg, making its way to your upper thigh. one side of your skirt pushes up, giving him a clearer view of your underwear. he smiles slightly at the cute purple lining that stuck to your lower stomach.

you feel his hand pull you down a little by your hip, back fully against the seat. his hand moves back to stay planted on your stomach, the fabric of your skirt now in his palm. his other hand picks the dildo back up that sat on the console, pressing onto the ‘on’ button.

the sound echos through the car, making the anxiety in your stomach build up. choso looks down at you, his hooded eyes boring into your soul.

he doesn’t give you a warning before he’s pressing the baby pink toy to your underwear. a small gasp evokes from you, back arching against the seat. choso slowly moves his hand on your stomach down to your hip, keeping that side in place.

everything felt heavenly. vibrations moved into your cunt, making your chest heave. your thighs want to shut together, but choso’s body keeps you from doing so.

“shh. you’re okay, baby.” he mutters, continuing to press the vibrator into the fabric.

you let out soft groans and gasps when the toy hits against your clit just right. when you feel that euphoric tightness in your lower stomach, your hand moves to clutch onto choso’s wrist.

“wait-” you whisper out, “want more.”

choso raises his brows, continuing his movement with the toy against you. your head falls back, hand clutching onto his wrist as the pressure builds up.

your jaw slightly hangs open but no words were escaping your lips, just soft cries. choso watched the scene intently as you squeezed your eyes shut and your body spasmed. you came hard, drenching those lace panties even more with your cum.

the sound of your heart beat in your ears lets you know you’re still alive. you listen as choso turns the toy off momentarily. “that was quick.” he comments as your heavy breaths fill the car.

you open your eyes to shoot a meaningless glare at him. he doesn’t say anything, only rubbing small circles on your hip.

“it was barely anything.” he says with a small shrug, “we should test it out with the panties off.”

with a small nod and ‘yes’ requested from him, his fingers start to dip underneath the band of the purple underwear. choso slides them off with ease after letting you lift your hips to get them closer to the ground.

you feel the somewhat cool air hit your pussy that was glistening. a sudden burst of vulnerability comes over you as you press your thighs together to hide from the man that sits in front of you.

his fingers move up your calves, up to the side of your thighs. he brushes them gently, keeping eye contact with you. “don’t need to hide from me, honey.”

at that, you slowly return to your state from before. he watches your pretty pussy come into view, his gaze going sinister at the sight. choso moves one of his hands to the edge of your core, hovering his palm just above your clit.

“so gorgeous.” he mutters, mostly to himself.

the sound of the toy starts up again. you’d figure he’d give a warning before putting it in, but he doesn’t. choso watches your eyes widen as he inserts all four inches of the dildo inside, the rabbit moving along your clit.

an unfamiliar hunger overtook his existence as he watched you squirm underneath him. choso slowly slotted the pink toy back and forth inside of you. you struggled to find something to hold as the pleasure took over your senses.

your hand is suddenly enwrapped by his, that electric current returning to your skin. he moves it to rest beside your head, his other hand maneuvering against you.

the sound of your pleasure almost makes choso’s head spin. he wants nothing more than to throw the plastic toy out of the window and shove his dick all the way into you. but he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. you seemed like such a sweet girl, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

“mm..’m close, choso.” you rasp, looking into his eyes. “don’t wanna cum with that.”

choso looks at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words. he watches you reach for his hand, pulling the pink toy away from your pussy.

you lean up, pressing your forehead against his. “would you fuck me if i asked nicely?”

“don’t bother.”

not even a millisecond passes after his words before his lips are attaching to yours. choso discards the toy to the front seats, pulling you closer to him.

you feel the hardness under his sweats pressing into you. with a small wiggle of your hips, he lets out a sigh into your lips. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you up from laying against the seat.

choso places you into his lap, hands curled around the back of your thighs. his head moves upward to keep the connection between your tongues. you bite down onto his bottom lip, and his hands squeeze your flesh.

“please.” you murmur against him, “don’t tease, choso.”

he pulls his mouth away from yours, looking into those gorgeous irises you held. “i like the way you say my name.” he whispers.

you feel his hands remove themselves from you, going to the waistband of his sweats. within a moment, they’re pulled to his thighs. choso looks up at you in anticipation.

“goin’ at your pace, baby.”

your hands fall onto his built chest as you sink all the way down on him, driving the entirety of him deep within you. his hands fly to your hips when it you flutter around him, but then grabs for your wrist on his chest, intertwining your fingers with his.

a moment passes before you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through you. your movements, your warm skin, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming for choso. his head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like you’re milking him, intent on making him fill you to the brim.

choso looks up at you, his brows furrowed with sweat building between them. his face is flushed, highlighting the scar on his nose. you almost cum right then and there from the sight of him looking so desperate.

when you speed up, he groans loudly. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

moving closer to his ear, “that was the intent.” you whisper.

he unsuccessfully stifles a groan when your breath meets his ear. his hands are loosely closed around your thighs, not even wanting to press you tighter against him because his brain is practically melting.

you tug on the buns in his hair, forcing him to lock his gaze with yours. the pain in his scalp doesn’t phase him, in fact, he feels himself getting closer from the feeling. he watches your expression change with each thrust, holding him in your hand like a puppet.

“so fuckin’ pretty, choso.” you gasp, kissing up his neck.

he inhales sharply from your praise, “fuck—”

you looked godly--his savior, and your pussy was one squeeze away from sending him to heaven. you were giving him this gift of riding him and god he was so grateful for it--for you.

“feels ‘s good,” he whimpers, looking at you through half lidded eyes.

when you feel him twitch inside of you, your legs find what’s left of the energy you have left to quicken your pace even more. "come on baby, come on," you whisper to him.

he isn't used to this. he isn't used to being guided to his orgasm first, but he his brain is dissociating. he can't think of anything else--he's lost control over his brain and he feels himself tip over the edge of an orgasm.

choso groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with a newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans intercepted with apologies.

hours could’ve gone by, and you wouldn’t realize it. your body lays atop of him, hands lazily gripping onto his shoulders. choso doesn't pull out his cock, keeping it buried inside of you.

his hands are locked together, circled around your waist. his breathing has evened out along with yours, and the only thing filling the silence is the radio that’s barely above zero on the stereo.

“so..did you like the toy?”

[icyg4l]

PAC: How Does Your Higher Self Define Womanhood?

Hello, beautiful people. Today marks the last post of the Women’s History Month series & one of two posts made today! I am excited to continue to create content for you guys. And I am even more grateful for the support I have received as of lately. Because of this, I will continue to post creative tarot readings. So, without further ado, please pick your pile.

Left-to-Right: (1-4)

Pile 1: Pile One, your story reminds me of the Miss Congeniality plot. Basically, Sandra Bullock plays a detective that goes undercover as a beauty pageant contestant. At first, she rejects the ideas of what it means to be a “girly girl” but eventually conforms to the standards. She viewed femininity as a sign of weakness and did not like being around other women because she felt that she had to prove herself to be tough. But she gained respect for the girls who worked in these pageants as she worked undercover because she began to acknowledge the hard work it takes to be in the pageants. By the end, she is closer to her womanhood. You have a similar story. I doubt that you’re a detective reading this but I feel as though you may have the tendency to thoroughly investigate any piece of information. To your higher self, womanhood means constantly being on the search for answers to placate the inner child wounds that lie within you. I feel like when you were younger, you may have been an outcast or a tomboy, maybe both. Because of this, you have set a lifelong quest to figure out what being a woman means to you whether it is intentional or not. Your higher self wants you to know that being a woman comes with all types of trauma, but remembering that you do not have to face it alone. You do not have to carry the burdens alone. You see, women are conditioned to be demure for the sake of keeping the peace but that’s not what works for you. Embrace the messy parts of yourself because if you don’t, life will get boring. Part of your mission is being aware of your multifaceted nature; reject conformity, embrace the abnormal, babe.

Cards Used: The Sun, 4 of Cups, 4 of Swords, 5 of Wands, Ace of Cups, The Magician, 5 of Cups, 3 of Cups, 3 of Swords.

Signs: Aquarius, Libra, Leo, Sagittarius.

extras: money getter. cash grabs. “low hanging fruit.” airhead. wallpaper. phineas and ferb. “sharon.” beetles. s.o.s. by rihanna. “tinge of an accent.” sweet. mirrors. coconut trees. hawaii. stubborn. radioactive.

Pile 2: Pile Two, there is a similar vibe that you have to Pile One, except I don’t think that you have problems with accepting your femininity. I think that you have problems with how masculines function in society. I am sensing a Lori Harvey type of energy here. This is likely related to the way that you operate when it comes to love. People tend to want to possess you so that they can show you off like a trophy. But your higher self wants you to know the difference between users and the genuine thing. I feel like you’ve developed this flighty persona to protect yourself from harm. While experiencing the many tribulations of womanhood, you have adopted the “flights over feelings” type of mindset. How has that been working out for you? No, really. Is it actually working or have you convinced yourself that it has. As a woman, your higher self thinks that womanhood is finding love in a loveless world. This isn’t necessarily about romance, but it’s just a mindset that you should adopt. It will save you from falling victim to the cycles of toxicity that plague society. It’s a cold world out here, babe but it doesn’t mean that you have to be as cold as the world. Part of your mission is forgiving yourself and those who hurt you so that you can see the beauty in the world. With this newfound sight of beauty, there comes true inner power.

Cards Used: The Devil, 7 of Discs (RX), 8 of Wands, The Hierophant, 3 of Swords, 3 of Cups, 10 of Discs, The Star, 10 of Cups (RX).

Signs: Capricorn, Cancer, Scorpio, Virgo.

extras: two can play that game. all about love by bell hooks. renegade. open arms. country music lover. tony montana. archer (2009). “logan.” phoenix rising. “marcus.” ashy. corny. cerebellum. stupendous.

Pile 3: Pile Three, your higher self defines womanhood as something that is both sweet and sour. It is something that she takes for granted but it is also something that she takes pride in. It’s a strength but also a weakness. I feel like I am talking to someone who has an ingenue/youthful spirit. I channeled the character Darla from The Little Rascals but I also channeled Charlotte from Princess and the Frog. You seem to be very in tune with your inner child and there is nothing wrong with that. Your inner child is heavily protected by the teenaged version of yourself, which seems very angry. These different versions of yourself often clash with one another, which can lead to bouts of depression and confusion. Your higher self is a woman who pours into herself through movement and self-expression. You need to channel these negative energies into creativity or else you will be stifled by your own thoughts. You honestly need to get out of your head. Your higher self feels as though there is a flip side to every coin that you get. For example, if you are having period pains, it may hurt but at least you’re not pregnant! Looking on the brighter side of life is how you can be closer to your higher self.

Cards Used: 5 of Swords, 6 of Swords, Page of Swords, Justice, 4 of Cups, Ace of Cups, Ace of Discs, 5 of Wands, The Hanged Man.

Signs: Leo, Pisces, Aries, Gemini.

extras: janet jackson. “i’m da man.” we will rock you. parties. diva. elle magazine. shapely. “how’d you figure?” honest answers only. maya angelou. glorilla. lola bunny. fatigue. body aches. deodorant. small bowls. annual. prayers. mark on the cheek. boot camp. “your highness.” shredded cheese. livelihood.

Pile 4: And last but not least, Pile Four. I feel like you are well sought after in the most lusty way possible. This has its perks, but lately, you feel like it has more cons than anything. I feel like you’re someone who always seems to feel isolated because of this. As a result, your higher self views womanhood as foreign. The amount of power that you hold as a woman is beyond explanation. There are so many ways that you can present yourself, Pile Four. I don’t think you have realized your true potential. Yes, you have gone through trauma because people assumed that you could handle the weight of the world but this means nothing to your spirit. Wake up! Don’t you realize how unique you are? Pile Four, womanhood can really only be defined by you, not by anyone else. The prioritization of yourself will help you make a name for yourself. You could be in your 20s, tired and just wanting a change. Well, your higher self wants you to know that change will come once you begin to change the narrative yourself. If you believe something about yourself that was told to you by someone else, then it means that you’re easily moldable. Being a woman means rising to the top even through the facings of opposition. You are a fighter. So the question is: when are you going to jump in the ring and fight for your sense of self, Pile Four.

Cards Used: Ace of Cups, Queen of Wands, 3 of Discs, Knight of Discs, Ten of Swords, 4 of Discs, The Hermit, Queen of Swords, 9 of Discs.

Signs: Gemini, Pisces, Cancer, Virgo.

extras: “tart.” “fresh out the shower.” burgundy. melons. net worth. SWer. dollar bills. illegal documents. molly. friendless. stoned. be your own boss. cake baker. sister, sister. wiseman. silly goose. fall. saturn.

[shibaraki]

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

“Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waste a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

[saintbarou]

𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓

tags: diluc birthday fic - fem reader, size difference, accidental creampie, temperature play, possessiveness, established relationship, the first time being intimate, marking, knight of favonius and cryo vision wielder reader. 6.k

synopsis: 𝐖𝐇𝚬𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝚶 𝐌𝚬𝚬𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐘𝐑𝚶, 𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐓 𝚶𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒.

You regret taking upon this assignment - more like a favor. The next time you see the blonde alchemist, you will freeze over all his ink pots. A small revenge for the suffering he put you through to head to his camp on Dragonspine for research notes he left behind. You sigh, tucking away the wind glider that you had used to descend the mountain, and think back to why you were sent - Klee is currently sick and has monopolized Albedo’s efforts, and you have always been weak to help the needy so you had readily agreed to the errand despite the blistering cold of the haunted mountain.

It seems your time under the tutelage of the Acting Grand Master has done you more harm than good.

Misfortune smiles upon you as you walk down the path that veers off the snowy side of the mountain, to the small river that leads onto the familiar view of tall grass and proud trees that decorate the land of the Anemo Archon. You are still shivering, and there is still some powdery snow on your hair that melts in the presence of the sun but as soon as you blink the sky darkens. You feel a small drip on the top of your head, and your shoulders drop in defeat as the scent of wet earth fills your nose and the sky is bloated black by the clouds - rainfall.

Just your luck, huh?

Your breath still mists over your lips and you shudder - fresh off the mountain and now getting soaked through by the rain a fog settles over your vision and you curse at how it blurs the sights together. Sucking on your teeth you ponder your options, it would be dangerous to use your wind glider now - you can’t see well, the mist of the mountain and the rain clouding what you can perceive even with your goggles. All you do is sigh and tug on your bootstraps, you are going to have to climb down the mountain.

It was easier than you expected if you discount the chattering of your teeth and the loss of feeling in your fingers despite your gloves. As you jump, climb, and trudge down the woods of Mondstadt you fail to notice that you have gone too far to the left of your map, and as you can begin to see the telltale sign of small, modest houses and crystal flies among grape vines; there is a flush that blooms across your face that isn’t from the nipping cold.

You’ve taken a big veer to the left and found yourself at Dawn Winery, subconsciously and purely by coincidence of course. A certain redhead flashes in your mind’s eye and you groan, bringing a hand up to your face in embarrassment. Even during your duties as a knight, your heart still leads you to the man you’ve recently started to court after having a harmless crush on him since his time in the Knights at the tender age of 14.

Lightning flashes, thunder booms, and the wind picks up whipping the hood of your outerwear back, you are so caught off guard you take a misstep sliding down the rocky side of the natural f formations of the mountain until you land at the base of the evergreen trees that reside on the paths that lead to the front door of the manor. It’s almost as if the Anemo Archon was pushing you toward the front door of the man you have loved since childhood. Picking yourself up, you swipe at the mud that mars your sleeves and trudge your way up the first paths that have turned into a mush of mud and rainwater. Arriving at the door you use the knocker, beating on the dark wood once and twice. You don’t have to wait for long when you see the familiar face of the head maid Adelinde, her blonde hair shines in the light of the lamp she holds in her hand. You wave timidly when she gasps your name, worry painting her face as she pulls you inside.

She’s rather strong for a maid, you think amused.

“What in the name of Barbatos were you doing out there?” She asks, lighting the fireplace in the drawing room and taking your outerwear away from you. You wince at how it drips onto the expensive wood flooring and how mud stains her sleeves. Your hair drips down your neck and you shiver, she hands you a towel - kept in the cabinet near the fireplace for emergencies at the table that is first seen when you enter through the front doors of the winery. She drags you to one of the fine chairs in front of the fire.

Before you could answer, a deep masculine voice rings from upstairs, calling out for Adelinde. Steps can be heard on the polished wood and you nervously tuck a stray hair behind your as the all too familiar scent of smokey wood and lampgrass fills your senses.

“Master Diluc, it seems we are having a special guest stay with us for the night.” The head maid says eyes flickering between the two of you as you squawk from your place in the chair. Diluc turns the corner, red eyes wide when he sees you, soaked through and shivering like a stray left in the rain. With the speed you’ve seen him exhibit in battle, he is by your side, his hand outreached to touch you before he freezes and drops his hand, still gloved by his side. Touching you so early into your budding relationship wouldn’t be proper -  and Diluc is nothing but a gentleman first and foremost.

“What happened?” He unknowingly parrots Adeline from before and you shudder before answering him, tentatively looking up at his eyes that flicker like the flames in the fireplace.

“Master Albedo asked me to retrieve research notes he left on the mountains.” You confess and wince at the scoff that leaves your lover and quickly fill him in as to why you went,

“Klee is ill so Albedo couldn’t go - I agreed to go.”Your stammer, feeling hot as the stern look on his handsome face fades to worry, you can still catch a subtle “The Knights are incompetent as ever.”

“You still shouldn’t have been sent alone.” Diluc murmurs, eyes flicking away to the flames in the fireplace. He sighs and goes to remove a red palmed glove, you watch the small action with wide eyes and swallow when you see his hands - pale and scarred, faint red hair glows in the low light of the fire and he says your name softly.

“May I touch you? I can use my vision to warm you.” You nod, wetting your lips as his hand comes to rest on the side of your face, warm and gentle in the way his palm molds to hold the weight of your cheek - red eyes glint pleased by how your shoulders drop and your eyes flutter shut by the comfort his body heat gives you. He smiles, cheeks tinged pink when he hears the small sigh that you puff out.

“I’ll have Adeline run you a bath and set some clothes for you. Have you eaten yet?” Your eyes, cloudy and relaxed, meet his eyes and he feels his heart might burst at how you look at him so trustingly - you shake your head to show that no, you haven’t eaten yet. 

“Some supper will be served for you then.” You think it’s from your long exposure to the elements but you usually would stammer and sputter at such treatment - telling him that he’s spoiling you too much but now you relax like the cat in the sun into the palm of his hand and let him do as he pleases.

“Send her to my quarters after her bath. We’ll eat there.” He instructs, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb into your cheek. Diluc’s blush darkens at the soft sound you make when he releases his hold on your face, he steps closer and your mind clouds as he becomes your world. He settles before you, tucking a stray hair from your face as he takes in your tattered form,

“It appears I’ll have to exchange some words with the Chief Alchemist. I can’t have him sending my love away on such dangerous tasks.” You wince at his words but your heart softens at the worry in his voice and the pet name he regards you with. Clearing your throat you try to soothe him,

“It’s alright Master Diluc - I should have been wiser and not agreed given the circumstances, the mountain has always been dangerous,” Your rambling is cut off by another pleased sound you make. He had momentarily moved away to remove the other remaining glove and pressed his now free hand to your forehead. Warm and dry, you feel the callouses from wielding the claymore against your skin but you could sigh at the touch. The hair there is still wet and you can feel how he gently tucks away the damp strands as he slowly increases the temperature on his hands to keep warming you up.

 “It’s only Diluc when you refer to me, dearest.” He rumbles from his position in front of you - something sweet in his smile as he recounts a fond childhood memory.

“My mother would refer to my father as Master Crepus when she was cross with him so,” Red eyes as warm as the embers in the fireplace before you dance so joyfully and you can’t say if it is the fire that warms you from the inside out or by how Diluc speaks to you as softly as the bat of a crystalfly’s wings. You find that you can’t bear the weight of his loving eyes so you duck, tucking your head into your chest and letting your wet hair block your view. 

“O-of course, Diluc - I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles at you, the name he is so proud of sounds so sweet coming from your lips and he can’t but give into his lesser nature and hurries for you to say it again. Pushing and tucking away the hair you used to hide your flustered state, the skin where his hand had rested almost aches from his presence,

“Say it again, say my name one more time.” He asks, and you concede with a shy smile - stuttering over the proud syllables of his name. You find yourself unable to meet his gaze, eyes wide and face hot. You hide your face with the back of your hand, from behind the fire cracks. Anything that Diluc wishes to say, from asking you to say his name again or a comment on how you can’t bear his gaze Adeline calls from the staircase - “The bath is prepared, please head this way.” She says, smiling kindly to you as you rise but not without reaching out to squeeze his hand once then twice. 

“I’ll be back, okay?” You manage to squeak out - still timid but ever eager to be at his side. He smiles in that soft way where you can’t help but think he really hasn’t changed since he was a boy that would smile so freely. Adeline leads you to a much more private and grander bathroom than the one you have been directed to use before during your previous stays at the winery. The bathtub is filled with steaming, bubbly water, and the scent of flowers is heavy. Adeline instructs you to strip, turning for privacy and you tentatively begin to under the belts that keep up your trousers and armor.

You soon are undressed, and you are careful to submerge yourself as quickly as possible - clearing your throat timidly to allow Adelanine to turn over. The foamy surface of the bath allows you some privacy and the head maid smiles at you as gently as she usually does, collecting your muddy and soaking clothes into a wicker basket.

“I will set these aside to be washed in the morning - there will be a change of clothes brought to you when you are ready. The supper will be in the Master’s room as well.” She parts with those words and you don’t know if the heat you feel in your body is that of the bath or of the prospect of being in Diluc’s bedroom, alone with him. All the times you have spent with him were under the eyes of the staff - shared dinners and chess games, you playing the lute for him as he rested his eyes and listened lovingly. You don’t think that Diluc allows the staff into his room anymore, he is no longer a young lord that needs help being dressed so as you wash the mud and snow from your hair you can’t help but think of the private affair of dinner. Even the lovely scent of flower soaps and perfumes can keep your mind off it, you tilt your head back until it meets the rim of the tub.

You begin to observe the room around, all dark wood and gold - you see the engravings of grape veins and owls and it’s hard to not let your mind wander to your redhead lover.  You blink once, then twice, and sigh from your heart as you think of his vermillion eyes and delicate touches. Your hand, silky from the soaps and still toppled with foam rests upon your chest where the heart lies and you feel its steady beat rising as you sink further and further into your thoughts of the only man you’ve loved your whole life. The sea of your thoughts and the satin water of the bath have become one - you don’t realize you are in a trance until there is a knock on the door. You call out to let the person in, thinking it to be the ever-so-helpful blonde maid, who holds you in high esteem for making her lord smile so sweetly and boyishly.

Instead, the one who peers through the door is the object of your affection - broad and towering from your position in the bath, holding onto delicate fresh clothes in his arms. Nothing is said as he finally catches wind of your position, dewy and slick with soap studs barely giving you any sort of decency of your more personal affairs. Wide eyes framed by dark lashes from the water gaze at him and if Diluc was a lesser man his resolve would have collapsed to bone and dust. He most certainly found you beautiful but here, served in the luxuries of his home Diluc can’t help but find you divine.

“I have brought you clothes, a nightgown, and something for extra warmth,” He said, eyes to the side as he could hear the splashing of the water - you were raising your arms to cover yourself. DIluc swallows around nothing and lowers his gaze to the corner of the bathroom.

“I apologize, I should have knocked.” He utters his voice uncharacteristically soft and he hopes his ears don’t match his hair. You tuck wet strands of hair behind your ear and shake your head even if he can’t see it.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” You say, and it is true. He is your lover. These types of things are bound to happen if your relationship is to continue. You eye the clothes in his hands and bite your lip as you confront the reality of the situation.

“Diluc,” You say his name, and something hot runs up his spine. You say his name so softly it is almost like prayer and he can not deny the pleasure of hearing it be sung too sweetly. “Could you help me out of the bath?”

He wonders if this is his last day on this earth. Diluc lets his eyes flicker to you - eyes bright and hopeful as you look up at him with all the adoration in the world. Clearing his throat he can’t help but think he will never be able to deny you anything if you look at him like that.

“Yes, if that is permissible by you.” He agrees and you smile from behind the water, directing him to where you had seen the towel that the maid who most likely planned this happening had set them. The towel was fluffy and white, encompassing his form as you slowly rose from the now tepid bath water - you saw how Diluc scrunched his eyes shut and tilted away his face until you were wrapped in the white fabric. Clearing your throat was the sign to let Diluc lift his head and you were so close you could see the soft pink flush on the tips of his ears. Nothing was said for a moment - the moment was too precious to spoil, Diluc thinks you must be something divinely made and you can’t seem to wrap your head around how safe he makes you feel.

Is this how the jovial city of Mondstat feels knowing such a gentleman guards her walls with the ferocity of The Four Winds?

“Get dressed when you are ready - the nightgown should fit you comfortably. I’ll wait outside to take you to my quarters.” Diluc explains, eyes on the floor to avoid staring at the exposed skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Your knuckles were wrapped in the fluff fabric of the towel - you brought one up to wipe at your lips as you nodded at him. 

“I’ll be quick, promise.” The words are earnestly said, you mean them wholeheartedly and Diluc fights the urge to clutch at his chest when you speak to him in that way. In a manner that is too stiff but it’s all he can do he nods and departs from you only to bring his hand to his face and groan softly into the gloved palm. How cruel is it that you are so unfairly endearing - how is he supposed to be the gentleman he was raised to be when every action you take seems to erode his resolve?

 You are quick to change - giving yourself only a moment to gaze at the ornate nightgown you have done. It was made of a nicer quality fabric than you owned, silken and white it shined in the candlelight and was tied in the front. It was a bit loose around the shoulders and dragged behind you a tat and you can only assume that this was meant for a taller and more mature woman than yourself. After hearing a knock at the door you hurry to dry your hair some more - only for it to still be wet, sticking to your neck. You go to the door and smile when you see Diluc, a flush to his cheeks and an uncharacteristic wide-eyed look on his face when he sees you like this - dressed in a pretty little fabric that does not hide any of the curves of your body the way your uniform armor does. 

“Ah, do I look odd in this? I don’t really own anything of this sort of style - ah that’s not to say I’m not thankful! This is really pretty and it’s so soft on my skin-”

“You look wonderful in it.” Your rambling is cut off by his comment, there is something devoted in his voice that makes you timid. Face flushed from either the heat of the bath or from his praise you chose not to think of it, keeping your eyes on the dark wooden flooring and letting your hair fall into your face. Diluc can’t help but study you, a dangerous game and maybe it suits a man like him who has always invited danger into his life but right now you turn him into half of a beast and have a stumbling kitten. Lust is not a foreign concept to the Master of the House but it is one he had often thought he could without.

How foolish is the young Master? How foolish is Diluc, who ravaged the lands of Snezhnaya because the want in his chest told him to? Lust is passion, hatred is passion - Diluc though stoic and hard of face is still at the mercy of his passion. The heat of his vision pulses in time with the heat at his core; the one that makes his eyes linger on the swell of your chest for too long and it’s the same heat that makes him think of what your form would be like under his hard hands.

 You, who is kind and loving, who loved Diluc when he was a boy barely capable of picking up the claymore at the shy age of 10, and that you love him now who is dressed in pristine whites and smell of cecilias - how could his passion try to keep itself away from you? As you walk next to him, your elbow crossed with his after Diluc had offered you his arm. You are in his private quarters sooner than you had believed and chills break onto your skin as the scent that always clings to his skin is doubled in the presence of the room. Lampgrass and smoke, grapes on the vine and pine - the smog of the scents are pleasurable as the hand he places on the small of your back to press you forward. The door shuts behind you and it does nothing to break you from your spell until you feel the breath of the one behind you, voice deep enough to be commanding; “Go sit down, the table is set.”

It makes you smile when you see the spread - Goulash, Northern Apple Stew, and Moon Pie are the main dishes. You tilt your head as you near the small table and you can see the smaller dishes that you have mentioned to him that you like. Mondstadt Hashbrowns, Satisfying Salad, and even Mint Jelly. Diluc comes up from behind and blushes when he catches your eye instead of focusing on pulling out a chair for you. He gestures to sit and you do, smiling in that all too delicate way you do when you feel spoiled. 

It’s his favorite smile of yours - he hopes he can keep it on your face for as long as he lives.

“Here let me serve you,” He offers and you nod, watching how he passes you a dish of Goulash, a soup known for warming up those who have recently left the mountain of Dragonspine. It would make your tail wag if you had one as he cares for you and fills your plate as soon as it is empty. Dinner is filled with small moments that keep a smile on your face - wiping the sauce on your cheek and even taking your seat in one hand, tugging it closer to his side so your thighs brushed and pressed against one another. It’s almost romantic, here in the safety of the winery dining with him as you both discuss the simplest and most casual of topics that one only shares with their most loved ones.

You mentioned how the cecilia blooms seem to have doubled this season from the heavy rain and Diluc mentions being interested in a board game similar to chess from Inazuma named shogi. You take note to ask the traveler how to purchase a set and Diluc thinks of bringing you a bouquet of cecilias - the flower you love so much. 

Dinner is over sooner than you’d like but your eyes are half-lidded, the exhaustion of your trip to the mountains and the warmth of the meal making you weary. He notices, laughing softly when he takes note of how you sway side to side in your seat. Faster than you can blink you find yourself whisked away until your back is against the plush mattress and a wine-red comforter is tucked to your chin. With lidded eyes, you realize that he isn’t joining you to bed and you say his name in a voice that is just a tad whiney though you will never admit it.

“Where are you going?” You say with something needy in your heart and Diluc who leans over you, red hair cascading like the waterfalls that litter the landscape of Liyue in the few times you’ve crossed through Stone Gate comes to mind. His face hovers over you, you can see the faintest blotches of freckles over the noble bridge of his nose and you see how the cupid’s bow of his top lip is the slightest bit uneven. He doesn’t quite smile, lips only twitching in a soft way that conveys his affection and his hand - he abandoned the gloves for the meal, comes to rest at your brow and his gaze turns soft like a cloud when he brushes your hair away.

“I’ll sleep in a guest room, you can take my bed.” He speaks softly as if his voice grows in volume in any way you would break in his hold. Your own hand goes to his fingers and palm molding into the grooves of his knuckles with your thumb rubbing at the bare skin. Your hands aren’t as soft but they dry and even at the tips of your fingers Diluc can feel their strength. The fire is dying but something is coming to life inside of you - it makes your heart ache as a new type of heat blooms in your stomach that does not come from any soup or hearty meal. The same heat that pours in Diluc’s vision, the same that fuels his passion, and the same that brings you to your knees.

“I’m still cold.” You say but your eyes say what your heart wants -  “Don’t go, stay with me, don’t leave alone, I want you.”

“Oh?” Diluc speaks after a beat of silence, vermillion gaze ablaze with so many questions and you read them all. Your gentleman in red is installed to care for and protect the weak, the vulnerable, and the needy. You know what he wants to say - “Are you sure? When I start I won’t be able to stop.”

You’ve tilted your head, bringing his hand to your lips to press a kiss to the scared, rough palm. Strength pulses through each digit, much like your own and your eyes are like snowfall. All pure and gentle, he finds it hard to refute you; hard to leave you in bed all alone when you look at him with sweet eyes begging him to stay. How could he say no to you? How could he deny you what it is you desire when all this night he has been attending to your every whim?

His lips are on yours and his hand heads south, cradling your jaw in his vast palm he tastes of apple cider and you taste of mint jelly - his mouth turns ravenous as if it didn’t have its fill at the dinner table. Diluc is still not satiated, his tongue warm and silken in your mouth traces the grooves of your teeth and you sigh into his mouth. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, blunt fingers curling into red tresses and you can’t help but tug the slightest bit. He groans softly at the slight sting and he finds himself tugging back the comforter until you are bare to him, your skin breaks into goosebumps at being exposed to the open air again. 

Diluc pulls away for air and spit strings connect you two until they break, the drops dripping from your chin to your neck. The milk light of the moon breaks through the curtains and Dilu can’t help but give into his lesser nature to drink you greedily with his scarlet eyes. Your face is warm, your breath condensing into steam from the difference of temperatures and he can’t help but find it lewd.

“I suppose I will have to stay with you tonight, won’t I? I can’t have you going cold under my care.” His voice is deeper, ravaged by the lust in his veins and you nod letting your fingers curl into his fur-lined jacket. You nod, head spinning from a simple kiss and you return the gesture to his thumb that rests on your swollen lip.

“Take it off - take it all off and join me.” You mutter, voice sluggish and the flame of your lust turns your mind to mush. Diluc can’t help but laugh - utterly breathless and enchanted by you, his hands leave you to push away his jacket and as it falls to the floor you bring your own hands to his face to keep kissing him. You press your lips to him, to his chin and cheeks panting and mewling into the brief space shared between you both as he can’t help but tease you.

“Haven’t I spoiled you enough? Do you still want more?” You whine and shake your head, eyes hazy by your own inability to be suave and smooth when faced with the enormity of your wanting.

“More - please, please give me more M-mast-”

“Diluc. Say my name and my name alone, you’re my lover only.” He cuts off your begging with a tone that leaves no room for argument. You nod to him hastily, whining as he grabs your wrists in his own hands. You are lovely like this, panting and chest heaving. If he had better lighting he wonders if he could see the hearts in your eyes as he lets his hands go back to unbuttoning, unbuckling, and pushing away the clothes on his form. His vest, shirt, and tie have all been removed and his chest is bare to you - the sight of a thick, burly chest covered in a thin layer of red chest hair makes you moan. When morning comes you are sure to be embarrassed, ashamed of your wanton and lewd behavior but that can come in the light of dawn.

You’re fine with acting like a cheap whore rather than the refined knight everyone knows you as if it’s for Diluc and for Diluc alone.

Everything happens so fast it’s hard to keep up with - his hands are under the skirts of your nightgown, broad fingers meeting the sticky lips of your cunt and mewling under him when they run down the seam of the folds. Your slick sticks to his knuckles and he laughs breathlessly and without mirth when he tilts his head to get a good look at how you whine - bringing the back of your hand to cover your face that grows hot with your own desire. It feels like you are melting, the heat of his hands is nothing compared to the heat of his fingers that sneak their way into you. Index and middle fingers curl inside of you as his other hand curls around the one that lays helplessly amidst the plush pillows and blankets of his bed.

“So demure, so lovely - my sweet knight, how pretty you cling to me.” His face does not leave from above you, lips only a breath away as his words like candle wax, hot and cling to your ears. You brush your lips to his panting and hungry as you nod almost mindlessly only to jolt with a moan when you feel his thumb that was not idle begin to swipe at your flushed clit at the rhythm of your heart. Diluc can’t help himself, tilting his head as he ponders the matter of his mind letting his fingers search for what it is he seeks; hounds sniffing for the rabbit in the meadow. You squeal suddenly, your thighs threatening to shut when the blunt tip of his fingers meets the softer, tender spot of nerves on your upper walls. A flame dances in his eyes as he smiles - a cold and victorious as you moan his name again and again as you melt under him.

“I found something, didn’t I?” Diluc is not one to tease but he can’t help but to as your pleasure folds over his hands like syrup. The release of your cunt clings to his fingers like it too, tastes just as sweet. You are open now, wet and darling with the pretty nightgown he gave you rucked up to your stomach and he can see how you twitch for more. The hand that held yours goes to his belt and you mewl from his departure making something smug in him grow three times over. The ever-kind and independent knight you reduced to a spoiled soiled pet, you really are an endearing darling to have his own.

His own, the thought makes him sweeten, pressing a kiss to your pliant and drooling mouth as he frees his cock from the prison that is his trousers. His mouth hovers over your lips and he asks you with his cock pressed between your bodies. It drools onto your thigh as you look down at it, your head swimming as you think about how it will be inside you if you permit.

“Are you warm enough now?” Diluc asks - still playing the game from before and you shake your head reaching down with a blind hand to take the shaft of his cock in your grip.

“No - no I’m still cold, warm me up some more please.” You say and he groans as you squeeze your hand around him with your thumb coming to swipe at its ruddy head. He whispers to you a rugged and breathless “okay” and he slips inside you like you were made for him. Birds have wings, lions have claws and he has you; Diluc not once believed he would ever find completion in his life but now he feels inside of you when you squeeze around the thickness of his length.

Breath-like steam brushes past your face as his hand goes to grip the headboard with a fierceness you’ve only seen from him twice. You are panting, almost going cross-eyed at the stretch, the heat, and the fullness you are feeling. Beads of sweat fall down your back and wads of tears make their way to your eyes and down your cheeks as you begin to hiccup at the first, second, and third thrust he gives you. You moan his name, say it like it's the only word you know - the first one to grace your lips and shape with your tongue. It is what makes lust dance along his spine like lightning, how you squeeze and drip and moan; Diluc is helpless to you, growing more enraptured by your hedonistic beauty with each thrust he gives you.

His grip on the headboard tightens and he feels the wood splinter and smoke, steam rises from his back as he moves faster and faster. It’s almost like you are the metal in his workshop and Diluc the blacksmith; forging you into something new, something whole with the weight of his cock and the blistering heat of his lust. You come without warning - a surprised shout of half his name as you squeeze tight around his cock. The tightness is unexplained and it stops him from thrusting with a sudden washing tide of his own completion. A mix of your own slick and his spent spills from around the walls of your cunt that flutter around his flushed cock as you tremble in the aftershocks of your pleasure.

Dilcu only watches, mouth agape and wide eyes as he takes you in - soaking and sopping, moaning, and whining beneath him. Your cunt leaks, dripping down his balls with the milky white combined release of the two of you and he finds that it isn’t enough. No, he wants more, vermillion eyes drink in the patheticness of your state; the drool that makes your lips shine in the low light and the tremors in your chest. His mind is set in stone, cum still hot inside of you with his cock twitching that the idea of filling you again and again his hips roll back and then forward into you. Gasping, your hands that had hung limp and useless at your side come to clutch at his biceps leaving lines as red as his noble hair - you are helpless in his grasp just like the headboard that smokes from above you.

“Diluc - Diluc wait, too much, too much!” You want to gasp, you want to warn but all you can hear is the wet skin of your ass smacking against his pelvis and his grunts that echo in his room.

“I’m not warm enough, not yet.” You wither and collapse on your back letting go as he pleases moaning when you release in the back of your mind that the ache in your gut each time he fucks both his and your cum back into you. Your head tilts back, empty and so far gone all you can do is hang onto him as you take note of the small specks of melting ice that hangs above the headboard that he grips with all his might.

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | don't let me drown

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 2.4k

warnings: drowning, hurt/comfort, angst, lil bit of nude cuddling for warmth reasons but nothing steamy, strong language, inspired by ep six but i changed it up so the bridge is unsteady for the purposes of *drama*. hint towards age-gap with reader in their thirties. they/them pronouns. no y/n.

synopsis: in which the reader falls into the river of death, and it's joel's job to save you and find shelter. featuring ellie. not requested!

You used to think snow was pretty. Magical, even. Now, you only think it’s a bitch to travel through, especially on foot with the harsh mountain winds blowing off the river.

Of course, you can’t complain because the fourteen-year-old and fifty-six-year-old aren’t, and you’re probably supposed to be fitter than the two of them put together. But inside… fuck. You’re exhausted, freezing, and desperate to get to your next destination so you can sleep on something other than ice and mud. 

When the bridge comes into view, relief washes through you. If you can get away from the open water, maybe the winds won’t be so biting and you’ll finally be able to feel your cheeks again. You puff out a visible breath and glance at Joel, who is both pale and rosy-cheeked from the cold. Ellie follows behind, watchful as ever. You can’t imagine what it must be like for her, trekking so far from where she began. Seeing so much. It’s been rough on all of you, but you’ve made it through together. Whatever comes next should be a breeze. 

“Keep a lookout,” Joel warns, poising his handgun and nodding at you to do the same. You’ve been warned that nothing good can be found by the river, and it’s left an unsettling silence between you since you started your journey. 

You dip your head, preparing your own gun as Ellie does the same. But if anything is here, you don’t see it — not on this side of the bridge or the other. It’s a rickety old thing, but if it gets you across… it’ll do. 

“C’mon,” he grunts. The bridge creaks beneath your feet, and you follow Joel’s footsteps to avoid any weak spots. Until gunshots sound somewhere in the distance. You all jump, but it’s you who loses your footing as a chunk of rotten wood disappears beneath your feet. Before you can find something to grab onto, you’re falling, screaming, clutching thin air. Joel yells your name with a fear you haven’t heard in a while, but his voice is lost as the rushing water swallows you up.

Freezing. So cold it makes you burn. The river turns your world grey and endless, as though you’re floating in a void. You thrash, trying to kick up to the surface, but the shock is jolting through you, making you numb, and you can’t remember how to use your limbs.

You cough and gulp down an unbearable amount of water, and that’s when you know. There’s no air, no way of making your lungs work. They just keep burning, squeezing for something that no longer exists. Your vision goes blurry and then disappears completely. 

***

Joel watches it in slow motion. The splintering bridge. The fall. The ripple in the river as it chews you up and doesn’t spit you out. He doesn’t realise he’s screaming your name, doesn’t realise he’s even running, until he reaches the other side of the bridge. 

“Stay there!” he orders Ellie with a warning finger, fear ricocheting through his voice, through the trees. You’re gone is all he can think. You’re gone, and he can’t fucking do this without you. 

His knees ache as he half-sprints, half-slips down the embankment, kicking snow into the river. After shucking off his shotgun and placing it down, he takes off his jacket in a moment of clarity, knowing you’re going to need something warm. And then he’s plunging into the river, cursing at its low temperature. His teeth chatter as he shouts your name, searching for any sign in the steadily flowing water. But there’s nothing. He dives under when he gets closer to the bridge, skin becoming ice as he searches the murky depths. 

He has to come up for air twice before he finds you sinking to the riverbed. He’s never moved so fast, snatching you up in both arms and pulling you to the surface. You’re deadweight in his arms, and panic lances through him when he finds you’re eyes closed. 

He calls your name again, urgency sharpening his words as he pulls you to the embankment. Despite his orders, Ellie waits there, eyes wide and afraid. He doesn’t have time to scold her. He’s too busy carrying you out, water pooling at his feet as he staggers to solid ground and lays you down. 

“Baby?” He shakes you, droplets falling from his face and onto yours as he kneels over you. “Come on. Come on, baby.” 

He presses an ear to your chest: finds no sign of breathing. 

“Shit.” He begins compressions then, counting to thirty before giving you mouth to mouth. Your lips are ice cold, and so are his, his knuckles reddening as he presses the heel of his hand down again and again and again. “Come on. Come on. Breathe.”

“Joel,” Ellie whispers, terror in her voice. 

He squeezes his eyes closed, unable to face what it means. What might be happening. He isn’t losing you today. Not any day. “Come on. Come back to me. Come back to me, darlin’.”

Your breath gutters, and instinct has him rolling you onto your side as you cough up more water than any person should be able to. 

“Fuck,” he’s saying, rubbing warmth into your shoulders. “Ellie, grab my coat.”

She does, and he wraps it around your quivering body before pulling you close. “I got you,” he’s whispering. “I got you, darlin’. I'm here." 

More coughs leave you, and he brushes your hair off your forehead to look for any sign of injury. Your lips are blue, and it terrifies him. Cold water shock can kill, and the way you went under… Shit, it’s a miracle you’re here, upright. 

You’re shivering so violently that he knows the worst isn’t over. Hypothermia. Pneumonia. Those are just some of the things he’ll have to watch for. He can’t take you anywhere like this, can’t protect Ellie or you, but you can’t stay here either. You need to warm up. You both do. 

“We need to find shelter. Somewhere to light a fire and get warm.” 

“I saw some rock overhangs deeper in the woods,” Ellie said. 

“Can you grab the bags?”

“Yeah.” She slips a backpack on each shoulder and then props Joel’s shotgun under her arm. Not ideal, but he can’t think about that now either. Not when you’re barely opening your eyes. 

He breathes your name and then: “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

A faint nod. 

“Good. That's good. We're gonna get you warm.” He pulls you into his chest, hooking an arm under your knee and the other around your back. You sink into his warmth, but you’re so limp that it terrifies him as he carries you up the embankment, following Ellie’s lead. 

Sure enough, she guides you both to a deep overhang beneath snow-topped crags, and he dips his head to fit in the low space. He places you against the wall, already unravelling the bed rolls.

“Get a fire going,” he says. He’s certain that he had a few matches left last time he checked, and Ellie rifles through his bag before producing them. With shaky hands, she gathers a pile of sticks and surrounds them by rocks just like he taught her before lighting the match and letting it spread. 

The twigs are damp and produce a lot of smoke, but sure enough, an amber glow lights the dark shelter a moment later.

“That’s it. Good,” he whispers. 

Ellie glances at your hunched form warily. You’re so pale, so cold you’re practically convulsing. “Are they gonna be okay?”

“Have to be,” Joel mutters. He slips off your sopping wet coat and sweater, and Ellie turns away as he gets rid of the rest. 

“You still with me?” he asks you.

You hum in response, folding into yourself in your nudity. 

“Here.” Covering her eyes, Ellie hands him a spare long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweats from her own pack, luckily from Bill’s stash of adult clothes. 

“Thanks,” he replies, urging your arms up so he can slip on the shirt. It’s an uncomfortable ordeal with your clammy skin, but he needs you warm. Now. Even when you groan, skin no doubt stinging painfully. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

He has to pull you up for the sweatpants, and then he’s rolling thick thermal socks onto your feet and tucking you into blankets and bedrolls. “How’s that? Feel warmer?”

You shake your head, and he helps you shuffle closer to the fire. 

“Now?”

A nod that has him relieved. He can’t help but place a kiss on your damp forehead, realising too late that he’s cold and shivering too. He only has another flannel in his backpack, though, and he can survive until he’s at least gotten you warm. Protecting you from his damp clothes using the bedroll, he wraps his arms around you to keep in the heat. 

“Gave me a damn heart attack,” he mumbles into your hair, squeezing his eyes closed to chase away the darkness creeping in. The thought of losing you. All the other scenarios where you didn’t end up here with him after the fall. He should have been smarter. Shouldn’t have taken you across that damn bridge.

The ghost of a smile crosses your flame-lit face. “Sorry." And then: "You’re… cold too,” you rasp between shivers. “Get in here.” 

He glances at Ellie. No way in hell is he going to strip off with her here. As though understanding, she raises her brows and shifts away. “I’m going to go find out if bears really do shit in the woods.”

“Don’t go away,” he orders. “Just… give us a couple minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” She disappears, and her crunching footfalls outside keep his concern at bay. 

His concern for her, at least. Your face still lacks colour, your breaths sounding watery and wrong even now. He grinds his teeth, reluctant to pull away from you for even a minute. But if he dries off, he can give you his body heat, so he quickly tears off his clothes and replaces them with the one dry shirt he owns. He doesn’t bother buttoning it up, instead crawling into the bedroll with you and enveloping you in an unyielding hold. You lean against him, eyelids drooping but shivers finally beginning to ease. 

He begins to warm up after a few minutes and can only hope you are too. When he notices your eyes closed, he stiffens. “You still with me, darlin?”

“Think so,” you murmur, your cool hands travelling across his bare chest. He tries not to flinch as he directs them up to his chest. His mouth. He kisses your knuckles before cupping his own hands around yours and blowing. Then, he rubs, generating friction. 

“Keep talking to me,” he pleads.

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.” Anything, as long as you don’t leave me. As long as you stay. “What was your favourite book growing up?”

You were barely fifteen when the pandemic hit all those years ago, but you smile as you remember that old bookshelf your dad put together full of worn paperbacks. “You don’t read, Joel. You wouldn’t know even if I told you.”

“So tell me about it.” He’s still using his hands, pushing feeling back into your body bit by bit. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper finally. “I’m okay, Joel. I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know that.” But he won’t stop, won’t give up, even when your cheeks turn pink once more. God, he’s missed the way you glow like that, the way it looks brighter in the snow. 

You take a ragged breath. “I liked Gulliver’s Travels.”

“Yeah? Who’s that by?”

“Joel…” Your eyes flutter shut. “Please. I’m tired. I’m warm. I’m okay.”

But he can’t trust it after he’s just put breath back into your lungs; can’t trust it to stay there. He holds you tighter, placing a gentle, terrified kiss into your hair, even if he’ll never admit that he is terrified. That he can’t breathe if you’re not breathing. He realised that the moment he jumped into the river without caring if it got him killed too. 

You’re all he has to hold onto, and he could never let you drown.

“I just need… I need you to keep talking to me for a little longer, baby. Just until I know you’re okay,” he says.

“Okay.” So you tell him about your favourite book, drifting in and out of the conversation. Soon, you stop shivering against him and the bedroll warms with two sets of body heat, just as he’d hoped. The fire keeps up until Ellie finally comes back to refuel it with more sticks, offering Joel a smirk that he returns with a gentle glare. You barely seem to notice, still muttering. 

“Sounds like a great story,” he says finally. “I think Sarah had that one.”

“Yeah.” You smile, cheeks swelling this time as you nestle into his chest. But then you cough, and he frowns. God, is this what it’s gonna be like now? One cough’ll leave him frozen with fear?

“I can read you guys a great book!” Ellie volunteers, and of course pulls out her pages of puns. 

Joel groans. You chuckle, and his heart warms at the sound. 

“Tell me the one with the penguins again,” you ask.

Ellie grins and flips through the pages, and you get a million more cheesy puns that make you laugh until you can no longer hold your head up. You’re certain Joel’s bare chest ripples with stifled amusement at some points. 

“Joel?” you ask as Ellie turns the page. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m so tired.”

Another wave of dread. He masks it clearly, examining your features. You look and feel warm, and you sound like you. If you need the rest, he can’t keep asking you not to take it for his own selfish reasons. For his own pathetic fear.

Finally, he surrenders. “Okay, darlin’. Get some sleep. We all need it.”

“Night,” Ellie says, getting comfortable in her sleeping bag.

Your eyes shut instantly and don’t open again, but your chest rises and falls smoothly against your interlocked hands. He listens to it as the shelter quietens, the fire getting lower. He listens all night just to make sure you’re still breathing. When light returns the next morning, he finds Ellie has done just the same, wide awake and unwilling to tear her gaze away from the two of you. 

“They’re okay, right?” she asks. 

Joel can only hope that it’s the truth when he says, “Yeah. They’re okay.”

“Good.” She nestles into her makeshift pillow — her backpack. “You’re a real grouch when they’re not around.”

He rolls his eyes, tempted to point out that he is always a grouch, though Ellie’s right. He needs you. He will always need you. 

And god, he hopes he never comes close to losing you like that again.

[kesujo]

Chapter 7: Miss Witch

Previous chapter here.

After their personal training session ended that day, Taeyeon left to attend a meeting with one of the many companies she was a chairwoman for. This left Seojun inside the rather quaint gym alone to do some additional endurance training on the treadmill, absentmindedly wondering about other types of ‘demons’ that Taeyeon seemed to suggest existed. Were there demons who focused on blood instead of semen? But a vampire typically wouldn’t be considered a ‘demon’, at least to his limited knowledge of that mythos. Would they also have a weakness to the sunlight but in exchange be granted superhuman abilities? Or maybe there were more brutish ‘demons’ who simply fed on the living, be they animals or humans or other demons, and were thus granted supreme physical enhancements?

If there were, then Seojun could see a secondary reason to undergo this training. For that day, he chose to remain inside the gym to train his cardio because, although he enjoyed the feeling of the wind against his face as he ran, there were many benefits to using a treadmill: he didn’t have to worry about his route or getting lost, he didn’t have to worry about ducking and weaving between other pedestrians, there were no traffic lights or crosswalks to stop him, and he had the option to slant the treadmill upwards so that he was constantly running on a slope, as normal running didn’t seem to really drain his stamina much anymore.

However, there currently was another, massive benefit to using a treadmill: the splendid view of the short yet especially voluptuous woman to his right. She had arrived about half an hour into his workout and had given him a nod in greetings, ears plugged by a pair of AirPods connected to the phone she was carrying in her right hand, before mounting the treadmill and getting started. Part of him felt bad for stealing so many glances, but her outfit was so provocative that he couldn’t help himself.

The satin red polyester of her form-fitting top had its work cut out for it, stretching across the mountainous valley that were her breasts, following her excellent curves down to just above her belly button. The plunging neckline gave way to an eyeful of cleavage and a hint at her boobs practically bursting at the seams and partially spilling out of the side, also giving Seojun an excellent view of her sideboob. Frankly, Seojun was astonished that the top was able to hold itself together.

Her milky-white skin seemed to glimmer in the bright lights of the gym, its tautness tested with every step. Seojun had only seen such large breasts in American movies and TV shows before, so to see such a magnificent pair in person was a treat for his eyes: with every step she took, her perky tits bounced magnificently, so much that they seemed on the verge of spilling out—unfortunately, no such incident occurred, which not only disappointed Seojun but shocked him as well. How was it possible that her boobs moved around so much, the elastic material of her top shifting around to reveal different parts of her boobs to him with every other step, but still manage to hold all of it in?

The eye candy didn’t end there though; her bare midriff revealed a toned set of abs, and a bit further down was her slim waist covered in the same elastic material as her top but in black. The shorts didn’t stretch much further down though, just barely covering the bottom parts of her ass. Her bottom was equally form-fitting, the shiny black material curving over her romp showing off the magnificent roundness of her butt.

Before he knew it, another half-hour had passed, by which point the beginning signs of fatigue had started to settle into the young woman beside him. That this feat most likely pointed her as also being a supernatural being completely went over Seojun’s head, as his mind was mostly preoccupied with other things. So when the silence was finally broken by her voice, Seojun nearly jumped out of his skin. “You’ve been running for an hour already? On that incline?”

Seojun’s head snapped to his right, seeing that she had slowed down to a walk, carrying her wireless earphones in her hand. “I’m s—” Seojun stopped himself after realizing that she wasn’t telling him off for looking at her so much, taking a second to regain his composure and slow down his own machine, and another to process her words and replied, “—preparing for something coming up that I need to train my stamina for. What about you?” He didn’t know why but addressing her as ‘noona’ felt right; despite how youthful her appearance was, there was something about her that seemed mature, something in her eyes that told a tale that could span centuries, perhaps even millennia. Like Taeyeon’s.

“I like exercising from time to time; by the way, you can just call me ‘Sunny’.”

Sunny slowed her treadmill to a halt, Seojun following suit, both turning to face each other. “I’m Seojun.”

“Hm…” Her eyes did a quick scan of his body, but before Seojun could even consider if she just checked him out, she continued, “Do you also know Taeyeon?”

Did that mean…?

“Yeah, she’s—” in the case that she wasn’t also a succubus, Seojun figured it was best to keep things vague. So, he ended up finishing with, “—my personal trainer. Do you know her too?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, she’s the one who invited me to start using her gym.”

Seojun, temporarily distracted by how pretty Sunny’s smile was, took a second to fully process her reply. “Her gym?”

“She didn’t tell you? She owns this gym.” That was certainly news to Seojun, but it hardly surprised him considering the vast amount of wealth she had.  “And the fact that you know her tells me that you’re … her new Servant?”

Oh, so she was also a succubus. That certainly explained why she had such a tantalizingly sexy body.

“Yeah, I—” he stopped himself, wondering if he should be offering information like that out freely to other succubae. After all, wasn’t the thing that attracted Taeyeon to Seojun his scent? If Sunny was also a succubus matured enough to be able to detect his scent, then maybe he’d be in trouble of being kidnapped? Should he run? But from what he’d seen from Taeyeon, there was probably no point in doing so since she would just be able to easily catch up to him. Plus, she was allowed inside this gym; surely, if Sunny and Taeyeon were on bad terms, Sunny wouldn’t be allowed in, right?

“By the way, I noticed that you were looking at my boobs quite a bit earlier.”

Shit. She knew?

Seojun gulped, his eyes drawn back onto her impressive rack, accentuated by her arms folded beneath them, pushing them upwards. He swore he could see the polyester material jut out at the tips of her mounds but didn’t linger on them long enough to verify. Maybe she was dangerous. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude—”

“It’s fine,” she replied, the smile playing at her lips clearly present in her voice, “Do you like them? My puppies?”

Seojun’s eyes drifted back onto her chest, drinking in the magnificent sight of the smaller woman shaking them back and forth in a playful manner. “I—” realizing he was being rude again, he diverted his eyes, a flush befalling his face, “—um, yeah, they’re, uh, nice.”

Hearing his hesitation and shyness caused Sunny to burst out into a twinkling laughter. “No need to be so shy; I mean, you’ve fucked Taeyeon already, right?” The frankness at which Sunny spoke almost made Seojun do a double-take, but she barreled on regardless. “How many others besides her?”

The way Sunny spoke was a strange mixture of a male friend casually asking a question about his sex life and a curious mother just wanting to know her son better. Seojun had just met Sunny less than an hour ago, yet something about her candid nature completely disarmed him. “Two.”

“Oh, I see.” A slight pause, then, “Do you want to make that three?”

Hearing that nearly caused Seojun to choke on his spit. It wasn’t just the prospect of fucking an extremely attractive woman he had only just met, but also the frank nature at which she offered the proposal that shocked him.

“I’m guessing that Tiffany was among the two that you’ve already fucked, and while I can’t say I’m as energetic as her or as interesting as Taeyeon, I can promise you that I’ve had about as much experience as both of them.”

Those were the words that suddenly made Seojun realize something. “Are you … not a succubus?”

Because if Sunny had ‘as much experience as both of them’, that would imply they were all around the same age. And if that was the case, surely her senses would’ve been refined enough to the point where she would be able to detect his apparently extremely attractive scent; however, so far, Sunny had more or less treated him like a normal person. No hungry, predatory look in her eyes that sent chills down his spine; just a normal, albeit extremely sexy, sultry look in her eyes and an inviting smile on her lips.

Sunny cocked an eyebrow at the question. “How do you figure that?”

Hearing that, Seojun felt himself panic. Did he get it wrong? Maybe Sunny just was better at controlling herself, or maybe it had something to do with her Trait. “Um, well, I—uh, for Taeyeon and Tiffany, they reacted to my ‘scent’ or whatever, but it seemed like you didn’t at all, so I thought that, um, maybe you weren’t a succubus because of that.”

Sunny contemplated for a few seconds before chuckling. “You’re dead on. I’m impressed, Taeyeon got herself a smart one, I see.” It felt like a huge load was released from his shoulders, the tension exiting his body with a deep sigh. “You’re right, I’m not a succubus like Taeyeon or Tiffany. I’m a witch.”

Frankly, after learning about the existence of succubae a few weeks prior, the revelation didn’t even shock him that much. There was something that piqued his curiosity though. “Well, if you’re not a succubus, then why…?”

“Why did I offer to fuck?” Seojun wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get used to her blunt language combined with the playful manner she spoke in. “Since it looks like you’re new to all of this, let me give you a brief rundown: ‘witches’ or ‘warlocks’ are essentially normal humans who can draw, accommodate, store, and use life force. However, in order to use it, we need to draw it from somewhere or store it inside something else. One common place we store ‘life force’ is our bodies; the body of a succubus is uniquely modified to acquire life force via semen, but I can acquire it by any variety of means: drawing it from plants, from insects, even eating meat, anything that has the potential for life or was once alive can be a source of life force. That being the case, semen is actually one of the densest sources of life force available because that’s when it’s potential for life is the greatest, which is something that succubae take advantage of. It’s also part of the reason why I choose to acquire life force via semen, although my body isn’t nearly as efficient at acquiring it or storing it as a succubus’s. That’s why I befriended Taeyeon: her servants always have the best quality semen, and I have a pretty good feeling about you too.”

It was all a bit overwhelming to Seojun. Store … ‘use’ life force? “What do you mean by ‘use’ life force?”

“Oh, well I’m sure you’ve seen it in action as succubae use their life force to power their Traits; however, their usage of their life force is extremely limited. We can use life force in many more complex ways; you can consider a ‘witch’ or a ‘warlock’ to be what modern society calls a ‘mage’ or ‘sorcerer’.” Seeing Seojun still maintaining a perplexed expression, she proposed, “Why don’t I demonstrate?”

Sunny’s eyes dropped from Seojun’s face to his crotch, shortly afterwards a strange, warm kind of pain caused his body, and especially his upper thighs, to clench. Seojun grimaced and bent over slightly, slightly lightheaded, his hands going to his legs and squeezing his upper thighs at the feeling of an invisible force tugging at his penis in a manner more uncomfortable than arousing. As it happened, the tightness in his boxers increased ever so slightly, such that when it finally stopped, he could feel the distinctive difference in tightness despite not being hard at all. The invisible feeling dissipated, the warm pain vanishing along with the lightheadedness.

“I’ll be needing that for later~”

Seojun’s eyes went back onto Sunny, who was smiling with a jovial expression. “What…?”

Instead of answering, Sunny got off her treadmill and joined him on his treadmill. Seojun kept his eyes on her, unsure of what she was doing; when she squatted down, Seojun opened his mouth to voice his confusion but not before she pulled his pants and boxers down in one motion.

“What the—” Seojun quickly moved to cover himself, not forgetting that they were technically still in public, but Sunny paid that fact no mind, her face level with his crotch.

“This is an example of what manipulation of life force can do.”

“What are you—” Seojun stopped himself when he realized both hands were no longer sufficient to cover his half-erect cock. Small as he was, both hands were generally enough to cover himself if he wasn’t fully erect—something he always jokingly told himself that was an advantage to being smaller in size.

But, at that moment, Seojun could clearly tell he wasn’t fully erect, yet his member still managed to escape the curtains his hands tried to put up.

“You noticed, didn’t you? I made you bigger!”

What the fuck?

“I transferred my life force to you and directed it to stimulate your body into extending the length of your penis.”

“Um, OK, so can I pull my pants back up now?”

“Hmm, well now that it’s out and right in front of me, it’d be a shame to just put it away…”

Sunny’s delicate fingers gently peeled away his hands, unveiling the noticeably longer shaft nearly at full mast. Seojun’s heart was racing, panicking at the thought of someone entering the gym and seeing them; why was he even letting Sunny do this? Luckily, they weren’t in vision of any windows, but it wouldn’t take much for someone who entered the place before they noticed the two standing at the treadmill, Seojun with his pants and boxers pooled at his feet and Sunny now kneeling before him, her soft hands wrapping around his cock. He let out something like a hiss, a surge of pleasure arising from her touch, the sight of her small face next to his hardened member wrapped, incompletely, by both hands of the voluptuous woman only making him hornier.

This was so wrong. They were in public. Anyone could walk in at any second. Why wasn’t he stopping her?

“I’ll just get a little taste,” she promised, her hands beginning to twist and jerk along the length of his shaft.

“Sunny, someone could walk in…”

“That’s fine, then they can join too~”

His response died in his throat as Sunny leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on the sensitive tip of his dick. A groan escaped his mouth, his fists clenching as he felt her lips continue to plant careful, firm kisses along his shaft, her soft hands tugging and twisting and pulling at his cock. When she pulled back, Seojun finally gained the composure to speak again but was beaten by Sunny. “It’s no fair that only you’re revealing something isn’t it? Let me pay you back.”

“Hm? Pay me back…?”

Seojun trailed off upon seeing Sunny answering not with her words, but with her actions: her hands slipped under the straps of her form-fitting top and came through the neck hole, pushing the polyester material down. Her breasts swelled as Sunny shimmied the top down until they finally burst out of its precarious confinement.

Sunny’s smile widened at seeing Seojun’s wide-eyed, unabashed stare, drinking in the sight of her enormous rack spilling over the elastic material pooled underneath the mounds of flesh and fat attached to her chest. Seojun had been catching glimpses of it but seeing them in all their glory was an experience that did not disappoint. They were so bountiful, tight skin stretching over the entirety of her tits with barely a blemish in sight, that Seojun couldn’t help but wonder what they felt like in his hands, against his face, squeezing his cock even. Sunny’s areola was a light brown color, and while her nipples weren’t the inviting shade of bright pink that he had gotten used to seeing, the size of both her nipples and areola spoke to just how much bigger she was than Taeyeon, even Tiffany. Seojun had pretty skinny fingers, but he could’ve sworn that her swollen, erect nipples nearly matched the width of his pinky.

“I’ll show you my pussy later, but right now, here are those boobs you were stealing so many glances at earlier.”

“Are-Are you sure about this? Someone could walk in…”

“It’s fine,” she repeated, her eyes landing back onto his erect member while her hands cupped the underside of her boobs and lifted them. “I can handle two cocks.”

Seojun didn’t even know how to respond to that. The image of Sunny being fucked from behind while she choked on his cock or Sunny’s head bobbing back and forth while her small, voluptuous body bobbed up and down atop his cock pushed his imagination into overdrive. His cock stiffened even further, much to Sunny’s delight.

“You like that thought? Of me being fucked by two cocks at the same time?”

The sultry gaze in Sunny’s eyes locked with Seojun’s eyes, which in and of themselves reflected the desire and lust he was feeling. The fear of someone walking in was pushed away: if they liked what they saw, Sunny expressed interest in a threesome, and if not, then that person could just walk away. And why should he care what some stranger thought of him? What mattered more at the moment was Sunny kneeling before him, bringing her tits to his crotch and enveloping his stiff shaft with her tits.

This time, however, it felt different.

Not only was it strange to feel pleasure from a length he wasn’t used to, but it felt much better—similar to how it felt with Yeoreum. “F-Fuck, Sunny…” he didn’t understand what was happening, but the sensitivity of his sex organ built up the tension in his groin up at the same speed as when Yeoreum used her Trait on his member.

“Your boobs feel so good, Sunny…”

Sunny giggled at his breathless response, arms reaching backwards and gripping the arm rails of the inactive treadmill they were on. “Then what about if I add this?”

Seojun didn’t have much time to wonder what she was talking about before he felt the tip of his dick part Sunny’s lips, then proceeding to dive further into her mouth as those same lips slide along the sensitive perimeter of his newly elongated cock. He hissed in pleasure as Sunny’s tongue pressed itself firmly against the underside of his penis, her mouth sealing his dick inside tightly and creating a gentle suction. “Shit, fuck…”

The combined feeling of her titjob on the lower half of his shaft and her blowjob on the upper half pushed the hastily built-up feeling over the edge, the results shooting a strong stream directed straight at the back of her throat.

Unperturbed, Sunny masterfully captured it, allowing the sticky sustenance slide down her throat before removing her mouth, letting the last few ropes of cum splatter across her boobs and neckline. “Mmm, that’s dense stuff you got there,” she noted, swallowing the fluid while her hands moved to her chest to rub the white substance all over her bust. “I can see why Taeyeon picked you.”

Seojun, on the other hand, was feeling embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t give you any warning before cumming.”

Sunny waved it off though, explaining as she stood up, “It’s fine. A newly elongated penis is always more sensitive since there are new nerve endings on it, to compensate for the increased length, that are completely unused to being stimulated.” Now that she was right next to him, Seojun could tell that Sunny was probably just a bit shorter than Taeyeon, but more than made up for it with her assets. Despite having just orgasmed, Seojun found himself glancing at her perky tits, the top glistening in the light with the sheen of semen applied to it.

“Thanks for the appetizer~” Seojun watched in awe as Sunny pulled the surprisingly stretchy material over her chest halfway before slipping her arms back through the two slots on the side, proceeding to then push her breasts back into the thin-strap tank top. Seojun pulled his pants and shorts up simultaneously, Sunny catching sight of Seojun trying to tuck his still-erect penis into his boxers and shorts and giggling. “Having trouble with that?”

“Yeah, I never had trouble with this before…”

This brought out full-on laughter from the short, curvy woman. “You’re so honest!��

Seojun cracked a smile in kind, finally succeeding in tucking his erection into his boxers before pulling his shorts over them.

“Well, why don’t we finish our workout elsewhere?”

Sunny grabbed his hand and lead him out the gym to a nearby building. Seojun didn’t have the time to discern where she had taken him as he was too busy noticing all the stares Sunny’s provocative outfit was drawing and all the looks the two were getting. Although he couldn’t make out distinct words, his increased hearing ability let him know that they were being mistaken as an ‘indecent’ couple—and honestly, Seojun could see where they were coming from. The excited look on Sunny’s face, her brisk walk, the tightness in which she gripped his hand, the bountiful amount of cleavage on display, not to mention his own excitement and the (albeit shrinking) bulge in his shorts, labeling them as an ‘indecent couple’ was something he might’ve done himself in disdain in his previous life. In this life though, he found that he had very little concern with what other people thought of him: he was probably going to outlive them, and even if he wasn’t, it’s not like he would ever have to interact with those people in the future.

It was only after they entered a room that Seojun realized they were in a love hotel: the overabundance of red-colored furniture, the humongous bed placed so prominently in the middle of the room, the shaded lighting, it was so obvious that even Seojun, who has never been to one before, could tell.

“Is this the first time you’ve been to a love hotel?”

Despite knowing where they were, Seojun was unable to hide his awe—and embarrassment.

“Yeah.”

The witch plopped herself down on top of the bed, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap, her thin arms accentuating her ample bosom. “They’re pretty nice, although Taeyeon’s place is nicer, admittedly. Was that your first time fucking in public?”

Again, her brazenness caught Seojun off guard. “Uh, yeah,” he answered, face flushing a little.

In reaction to his innocent reaction, Sunny beamed. “Aah, you’re so cute!” she squealed, standing back up. “I just wanna eat you up!”

In the blink of an eye, Sunny was once again kneeling before Seojun; this time, they were in a much more private setting, but there was something about the ambiance that made it even sexier. However, when she pulled his pants down, this time, he was much more flaccid than the first time.

A pout formed on her face, something that was much too cute for someone with such a salacious body. “I know I’m not a succubus, but isn’t this a bit too mean?”

Seojun couldn’t help but chuckle at her playful pouting. “Sorry.”

“Hm, looks like I’ll have to reawaken this beast.” This time, Sunny removed her top from the bottom, pulling the tight form-fitting top clean off her body. Her boobs jiggled fiercely as they once again escaped their confines, Seojun once again marveling at their size and wondering how they managed to fit inside the tight upper garment. Tossing it to the side, Sunny turned her attention back onto the soft penis inches from her face. “Time to wake up~” she called out in a sing-song voice, leaning forward and planting a kiss on the tip.

Seojun shuddered, something between a groan and a moan coming out of his lips. “Sunny…”

“Sunny wants to play~” she continued, one of her soft hands cupping his balls while the other grabbed the base of his quickly hardening shaft. She planted another kiss on the tip, then another a centimeter along its base, then another on the side, continuing all the way down all the while massaging his balls and sensually rubbing the underside of his dick with her palm.

“He also wants to play,” he replied, the feeling of her velvety lips all over his cock increasing his arousal exponentially. When Sunny’s lips travelled back to his tip for the second time, she paused briefly to take a look at the product of her work: his fully erect cock, now standing probably close to twice its original length.

“Oh, you’re awake!” she squealed in an adorable excitement that sharply juxtaposed both hands gripping his length to give it a few firm pumps. “Do you want to feel my boobs or my mouth first?”

“Boobs.”

Although Sunny’s mouth felt great, he couldn’t forget the feeling of the amount of pressure that came from her huge tits smothering his cock. Maybe it was because Sunny had just elongated it, but he could tell that Sunny’s titjob were on a whole other level compared to Taeyeon and Tiffany’s. Even though their boobs were sizable, even when his penis was smaller, they had trouble completely enveloping his cock. The enjoyment from Taeyeon and Tiffany’s titjobs mostly came from feeling the smooth, supple skin rubbing against his shaft, but with Sunny, that pleasure was multiplied by the completeness in which it smothered him.

“Shit, Sunny…”

Seojun’s knees nearly buckled as Sunny’s mountains mounds once again enveloped his dick in a hot embrace. “Does that feel good?” she asked, head tilted upwards, eyes directed at him.

“Yes, it feels amazing, Sunny!”

Sunny beamed again, leaning forward a bit to dribble some saliva onto the stiff rod trapped between her boobs. “Mmm, I might’ve made a mistake.” Hearing that instantly snapped him out of the drunken lust he was feeling, but that summarily dissipated when Sunny continued, “With such a huge cock and such delectable semen, all of Taeyeon’s succubus friends won’t be able to keep their pussies away.”

The image flashed in his mind, being surrounded by hordes of horny succubae, smothering him with their warm, voluptuous bodies, eager to have a go with him. His dick twitched at the thought, eliciting laughter from Sunny. “Really?”

“You like that idea, huh? You naughty, horny boy~”

“Well, this ‘naughty, horny boy’ doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to stand because of how great Sunny’s titjob is, so can we move to the bed?”

Sunny erupted into another bout of twinkling laughter, granting him his request. Once he settled, Sunny wasted no time in climbing atop the bed with him and continuing the titjob. “I bet Taeyeon’s or Tiffany’s boobs didn’t feel as good as mine.”

“N-No, yours feels the best.”

Sunny demonstrated her gratitude by placing a firm kiss on the underside of the part of his dick poking out from her tits, shortly afterwards replacing her lips with her tongue. After giving it a long, firm lick, she playfully flicked the tip, earning another moan from Seojun, before swirling her tongue around his cock.

“Ah, shit—”

Satisfied with Seojun’s reaction, she continued the combined titjob and blowjob, her hands vigorously rubbing her soft tits against the lower half of his cock while her tongue and her lips worked its magic on the upper half. Seojun was absolutely captivated, still somewhat blown away by the fact that he was getting a titjob from someone with tits as large as Sunny’s: in his previous life, even in his current life days ago, to have someone completely smother his cock with her boobs was just a fantasy. But now that it was happening, Seojun again couldn’t thank whichever deity blessed him with the ability to live this life.

As Seojun watched Sunny bent over before him, her chest bouncing up and down and her head bobbing in the same manner, he took a second to appreciate how attractive Sunny’s lips were. Plump and shiny, they naturally formed a pout which increased the surface area her lips formed when pressed against his shaft. But, while the feeling of the warm membrane itself against his more sensitive sex organ was an amazing feeling in and of itself, but her masterful use of her tongue in combination was the primary contributor for his imminent orgasm.

“Sunny…”

As much as Seojun was enjoying what Sunny was doing to him, the selfish side of him stared in awe at her lascivious curves and wanted to feel that against his body. He wanted to feel her juicy ass smack against his groin, he wanted to see and feel her rack jiggle with the force of his thrusts, he wanted to feel her tight pussy on his cock and empty his hot load into her. But as much as he wanted to, he was unable to fight against his South Korean instinct that told him asserting his will over someone older than he was forbidden.

Luckily, Sunny noticed and stopped. “That’s right, I promised you I would show you my pussy, didn’t I?”

Frankly, Seojun barely remembered her making such a promise, so he just nodded.

Sunny retreated, straightening her back and sitting on her hind legs, facing him. “Before that, I need you to promise me one thing.”

That gave him pause, but Seojun ended up agreeing. “Sure…”

“I want to see you dominate me.” That certainly wasn’t what Seojun was expecting; he was anticipating some condition, like he not use his hands or some restriction like he not tell Taeyeon about her, but her demand only ignited his arousal even further. “OK?”

Instead of responding, Seojun grabbed Sunny’s shoulders and pushed her down onto the mattress. A twinkle of excitement shone in her eyes as she stared back up at him, her body splayed against the soft sheets below them in a show of submission.

Seojun’s eyes dropped from her face down to the beautifully glistening pink folds between her legs, already damp with her juices. “Do you like my pussy?”

“It’s beautiful,” he replied, reaching out with his index and middle finger to draw a firm line down her slit. The action caused a wave of pleasure to roll down her body, a shudder traveling from her head all the way down to her toes.

“Aah, god…”

Her beautiful, melodic moan resonated in Seojun’s ears, another filling the room as Seojun repeated the action, but this time in reverse. His dick was straining against his crotch, but he was already mesmerized; another downward stroke, and another melodic moan from Sunny’s parted lips. Her juices splattered against her upper thighs and his hand, but Seojun paid it no mind.

“Your pussy really is beautiful.”

“I think it would look better with your fat cock inside it.”

The blunt retort was what reminded Seojun of his original intent. “I bet it would.” It was extremely strange, grabbing a cock he wasn’t used to despite the fact that it was clearly his, and messed a little with his depth perception when he was trying to guide it to her entrance and accidentally dipped it inside the demoness. Sunny let out a muffled moan, her legs twitching slightly in response.

“Getting used to it?”

“Yeah, it’s so strange.”

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me, just shove the entire thing inside me.”

Seojun grinned, taking that as his cue to enter. “That was the plan!” At the last word, he pushed his member inside her.

“Ooh—ooh, oh fuck—!”

The moans gradually turned into screams of ecstasy as Seojun advanced relentlessly, Sunny’s hot, tight pussy desperately stretching to accommodate him. He could feel her fleshy, wet walls tugging on his shaft as if trying to help him, but those very walls were the ones that were too tight to advance past.

“God, fuck, you’re so big!”

Seojun never thought he would hear someone gasp those words to him, but hearing it just empowered him even more.

“Oh, fuck you’re stretching me out so much! Yeah, destroy my tiny pussy with that monster of a cock!”

It was also a completely new sensation for him; he spent the better half of a few minutes trying to push his cock inside her, but he was barely even halfway inside. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, finally deciding to pull back. Sunny let out a shaky gasp at the sensation, only to feel a guttural moan rip through her throat as Seojun pushed inside her again.

“Oh yeah! Fuck me, just like that!”

Seojun could barely hear Sunny, his lust taking control of his mind and his body, his concentration focused on the incredible tightness of Sunny’s womanhood. With every thrust, he made incremental progress, and it was when he was almost two-thirds deep inside her that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye: the fierce jiggling of Sunny’s boobs responding to the fierceness of his thrusts.

He wasted no time in leaning forward and capturing them with his hands, fondling and massaging and rubbing the soft, pliable flesh in the palm of his hands.

“Yeah, you like feeling up my boobs while you plow me?”

Seojun could only grunt in reply, his grip tightening on her boobs as her pussy tightened around his cock. He didn’t relent on her tits either, not because he particularly wanted to, but because he didn’t have the capacity to do anything else; fortunately, this only fueled the fire of Sunny’s lust. The rougher he got, the tighter and wetter she became, the more resistance was placed against him, which caused him to become even rougher. The cycle repeated over and over, escalating to the point that Seojun was suspecting he was receiving help from Sunny, but frankly, he didn’t care. All he cared about was his release, the ever-building tension in his nethers that, minutes later, finally broke.

“Sunny, fuck!”

With a final, primal scream, Seojun erupted inside Sunny’s tight cunt, never having made it all the way inside, thick rope after thick rope of semen pouring into the small woman’s vagina.

Sunny was reduced to a mewling mess, her body warming up as she struggled to take in and absorb the high-quality sustenance entering her body at such a fast rate. When Seojun’s orgasm subsided half a minute later, the two of them breathed a sigh of relief, Seojun resting his head on Sunny’s supple bosom.

“Wow, that was even better than I thought. Thanks for the meal~”

“Sunny, did … did you not cum?”

“Hm?” Sunny tilted her head to look at Seojun, who had lifted his to match her gaze. Seeing the innocent, guilty expression on his face caused her to burst out into laughter. “Aw, how sweet of you to think about that! No, I’m fine.”

Maybe he was spoiled by the fact that absorbing his semen often seemed to be enough for everyone he’s fucked to cum, but the fact that Sunny hadn’t yet somewhat hurt his pride while simultaneously making him feel guilty. “Are you sure? I can eat you out, Taeyeon—”

“It’s really fine, Seojun,” Sunny interrupted him, patting his head gently, like a mother consoling her worried child. “I really did have a great time. Maybe next time, I’ll be able to fit all of you inside me,” she said, playfully smacking his butt a few times.

“Oh … I’m sorry…”

Seeing his dejected face, Sunny couldn’t help but gush at the sight. “Don’t make such a pouty face; really, it’s OK! You know, a woman doesn’t have to orgasm to have enjoyed sex.”

Seojun pulled out, but before he could say much, the door opened. His head snapped towards it, the panic in his body quickly dissipating upon finding a bemused Taeyeon standing at the door.

“Sunny, you know, you don’t have to be so sneaky. You know you can just ask.”

Sunny shot Taeyeon a toothy grin. “It’s more fun this way! Also, notice anything different about your man?”

Taeyeon’s eyes followed Sunny’s, landing squarely on his softening cock. However, her reaction was far from what he expected.

“Really? Why do you always do this? Now my pussy and my mouth have to adjust to his size again! You know that’s more difficult to do after the Servant ritual is performed!”

Although she didn’t sound angry per se, Seojun could clearly tell that this was a less than ideal situation for her. And although she was referring to him, Seojun couldn’t help but feel a little reassured that Taeyeon liked the way she was, even though he personally preferred the way he was now.

“Well, you’re a succubus,” she replied, rolling her eyes at her, “it’s not like it’ll even be that difficult for you.”

Taeyeon sighed. “I mean, you’re right … I mean, at least it was before Tiffany did the ritual with him.”

This got her attention. “Wait. Tiffany?”

Taeyeon nodded, a proud smile now on her face. “Yep. Tiffany.”

“The Tiffany? The, ‘I-don’t-want-to-be-tied-down’ Tiffany? The ‘I-refuse-to-stay-in-one-place-for-more-than-a-week’ Tiffany?”

“That’s the one.”

Seeing Taeyeon being so proud of him made his heart swell in gratitude, but at the same time, there was a nagging voice at the back of his mind telling him that it was through no merits of his own that Taeyeon liked him so much.

“Wow … I mean, I could tell he was higher quality than most, but to be able to tie Tiffany down…” Sunny turned to look at Seojun in awe. “Damn, you really honed your life force well, huh?”

Seojun blinked, then furrowed his brows. “What?”

“The quality of your cum directly corresponds to how well you’ve honed your life force. Of course, most humans don’t really have a reason to do this, but honing your life force is mostly done by expending your life in a way that’s meaningful to you.” Seeing that Seojun was still confused, she continued, “It’s a bit more complex than this, but basically: every human being has a ‘base’ amount of life force and wakes up with some amount of extra life force. However, if you don’t refine it and control it, a buildup of life force, while healthy in small amounts, can poison the ‘base’ life force if left unchecked. This can be counteracted by expending that extra amount of life force that you woke up with, which correlates—again, this is an oversimplification—by how satisfied you feel throughout the day. However, having no small buildup of extra life force can cause your body strain, which will affect your body’s production of life force. So there needs to be a balance between spending your life force and conserving some of it, which you seemed to have done really well.”

So it wasn’t all just luck. That made Seojun feel a little better, but that was about all he got from Sunny’s explanation; he turned to look at Taeyeon, who just shrugged. “I vaguely understand what she means, and I’ve been friends with her for centuries.”

“Don’t worry if you don’t quite get it, it’s imperative for witches and warlocks to know this type of thing since it is how we survive. I don’t have a body that naturally regulates that stuff like Taeyeon’s or Tiffany’s.”

Taeyeon cocked her eyebrow at her before saying, “Let’s get home, we’ll want to give Tiffany some time to get used to … this new development before we start the Servant Ritual.”

Seojun obediently picked up his clothes, leaving Sunny sitting on the bed, still buck naked, watching him. On their way home, Taeyeon posed a question to him. “How was it?”

“It was … very different.”

Taeyeon laughed, a smile naturally forming on Seojun’s face as a result. “Different is great. If you’ve been alive as long as I have, you’ll come to realize that ‘different’ is what you live for.”

That led Seojun back to the thing he was thinking right before he had met Sunny, except this time he knew about witches and warlocks. What other types of demons would he meet in the future? And how many of them would he be able to fuck? Only time would tell.

Hope you didn't mind that little bit of worldbuildilng; not for some time, but more to come! :D

Next chapter here.

[ozzgin]

Various Predators x Predator! Reader (IV)

@avaleigh16 asked (a very long time ago, sorry for the wait!!) for a fourth part to the Predator saga, where Reader is brought to Yautja Prime. Therefore I bring a potential sequel that focuses on Predator culture, depending on who you’ve chosen as your partner!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Horror Masterlist]

Feral Predator

As promised, your new home didn’t stray much from your expectations. Feral Predator is from a different hemisphere, of a drier climate. The imposing, sprawling megalopolis of Yautja Prime is but a distant outline, fading before the marvels of raw, unforgiving nature this place has to offer. Tribal architecture and interminable tunnels are the prominent features of these ancient cities. One has no need for advanced technology. In a way, it does remind you of Earth, of your modest countryside roots. Communities are made of small family units, so days are spent hunting or training in the company of your partner. Feral Predator is a patient and caring father, guiding his offspring and showing them the ropes of survival. There will be frequent visits to Earth as he, too, favors its wilderness, especially when it comes to honing one’s skills. While he treats you as an equal, he does hold you in significantly high regards as the mother of his children.

Elite Predator

With great status comes great responsibility. Elite Predator has been eyeing the Elder status for some time now, in order to provide you with one further reason to be grateful for choosing him. That implies, naturally, that he is often on special missions to teach or rescue Young Bloods, or clear out Alien infestations. Your offspring will go through Spartan training as soon as they can crawl their way around: it would be shameful if his own younglings end up weak or devoid of skill. Although he does not worry about such outcome. He hasn’t picked you out of random chance. Only someone of his level could’ve made it as his mate, and he was certain of it from the moment he saw you. Hopefully you, too, can tell that this outcome was fated to happen. You most certainly won’t regret your life with him, he will make sure of that.

Fugitive Bad Blood

If you were hoping for an idyllic, peaceful life in a humble hut with ocean view, I have some bad news for you. Even settling on Yautja Prime is an optimistic stretch when your partner is a criminal on the run. You’ve unwillingly followed in the footsteps of your parents, watching your child grow from within the confinements of a ship, sailing through space with no ultimate goal. Not all is grim, however. Despite his ruthless nature, the Fugitive has kept his word when it comes to being a fitting partner for you. Your wish is his command and he will not allow anything endanger his family. To your great shock, he’s even willing to take risky detours on Earth whenever you feel particularly nostalgic. He will stare at you incredulously; why the hell would he have gone through all the efforts to court you if he didn’t want you as a partner? Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with already? Whatever your heart desires, he will make it possible.

Berserker

The Super Predator cannot wait for his younglings to be old enough to begin their hunt. He lives to kill and one can easily tell from his impressive collection of trophies he has gathered from all across the Universe. Truth be told, you’re somewhat afraid to see the outcome of your copulation. Berserker Yautja are much larger and much more aggressive than your species. You’d assumed his first choice for a mate should’ve been from his own kind, but for reasons unknown he’s preyed on you instead. The Berserker seems to have a fervent attachment towards you and will even growl at his own sucklings if they show any sign of disrespect. There’s not much space for freedom and sometimes you feel like you’re trapped under the suffocating affections of a savage animal ready to defend its territory. From his point of view, you should enjoy the privilege of belonging to the superior Predator. There’s no one out there that could go against him.

[itsthewritergal]

Get up Buck - B.Barnes X reader

Here it is! The final part.

I hope you all enjoy :)

TW; suicide, death, character death, swearing, (happy ending tho!)

PART 1

PART 2

“She is to be kept on 24 hour surveillance for the next four days. She is going to be tired and weak and you need to be looking after it. It is going to be hard work for everyone involved and you need to never make her feel bad for it” The Psych Doctor explained to Steve and Tony, 

“I understand, I can promise she will be safe” Tony said firmly, “Is she ready to go?” 

“You’ve signed all the consent forms?” The doctor asked 

“Everything’s been signed and paid for” Steve said, “I’d just like to get her home” 

“On the understanding that you bring her back the moment you can’t handle it” 

“I don’t need handling” Y/N said firmly appearing in the doorway of her room, 

“I didn’t mean it like that” The doctor said gently 

“You can’t keep me here so if you don’t want me at the compound I can go home” She said, and Tony felt his heart break.

“We want you at the compound” Tony placed his hand softly on hers, 

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked searching Tony’s face for any sign of uncertainty 

“Yes” Tony said, picking up her suitcase that was packed 

“Y/N, here is a few emergency numbers you can call if things get bad again” the doctor said handing Y/N a pamphlet filled with self-help book recommendations and numbers for therapists. 

“She won’t need them, but thank you” Steve said 

The ride to the compound was filled by the soft humming of Wanda to the radio, Steve and Bucky muttering in the back of the car and Nat trying to pull conversation out of Tony who was clearly preoccupied with googling all the best therapists near to the compound. Y/N had her head resting on the cool glass of the window as the compound rolled into view. It was a sight she had wanted to forget, her hands balled up in her shirt trying to disperse some of the anxiety of moving in. Tony had taken her to her apartment a few hours before to get her things together. 

“I gave Vis and Clint clear instructions for your room, your stuff will be in there” Wanda said 

“They won’t have unpacked it though?” Y/N double checked 

“No of course they won’t have” Steve said softly “We will have to check your bags though” 

“I’m not going to smuggle in anything that’s going to hurt me” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes, 

“We can’t take that risk, you can choose whoever to check through them but we have to check” Steve said in an authoritative tone

“Nat” Y/N said quietly 

“Sounds good sweetheart” Nat said with a soft smile, 

“Movie night tonight, what are we watching?” Tony said trying to lighten the mood 

“I think it’s Bucky’s turn to pick” Wanda said gently, Bucky felt his heart squeeze

“Friends” He said without skipping a beat 

“Friends?” Tony asked, 

“Yeah, I want to watch Friends tonight” He said, he knew it was Y/N’s favourite show to watch when she was feeling down. It wasn’t much but it was a start to making her feel better. 

“That’s not a movie but I guess we can watch it” Tony said with a huff,

“Y/N sweet or salty popcorn?” Wanda asked 

“Either, I think I’ll probably head to bed. So it might be a better idea for someone else to choose” She said quietly 

“I want both” Clint interrupted, as the car rolled to a stop 

“Nat can you show Y/N her room?” Tony said as they climbed out the car. 

It had been two days, Tony had kept Y/N under close super-vision. Not that she would have known it. He made sure that all the agents had been briefed to know that she was to be treated normally, just like she had been treated when she was at the compound with Bucky. 

“You need some sleep” Steve said as Tony slumped into the meeting room with yet another cup of coffee

“Everyone’s either too tired or on missions to do the over night shifts of watching her, so I don’t have a choice” Tony said “Sleep is for the weak” 

“What if I took the overnight tonight?” Bucky suggested “You’re giving her the sleeping tablets so she won’t wake up, I’m not on missions this week so I don’t mind one all-nighter” 

“What would you do if she did wake up?” Tony asked, Bucky knew it was a test. He wasn’t stupid, but there was a part of him that was insulted 

“I’d come and get you or Steve and I’d stay away” Bucky said, it was a lie, he wasn’t sure how he’d react. Wasn’t sure if he could stay that far away from her if she was hurting, but he had to try

“I don’t know” Tony said warily 

“It’s one night, then you can look after her 24/7 the rest of the week” Steve suggested, 

“Fine” Tony agreed. 

The night was going smoothly, Bucky felt a little like a stalker watching Y/N sleep on the secret cameras Tony had installed. But he took a little bit of comfort in watching her so peacefully, it had been one of his favourite past-times when they were together. Not that she ever knew about it, back then she would have teased him mercilessly if she had found out. He would have loved it, he’d love it even more if she was to find that spark again, but he knew better than to wish for that much. 

Y/N stirred a little in her sleep and Bucky felt his chest tighten, she was wearing his shirt. He was sure he had lost it months ago, yet here it was. Bucky zoomed in a little on the camera to check that she wasn’t waking up, her face contorting into a pained grimace. Suddenly she sat bolt upright and was desperately searching in the duvet for something. Bucky could sense the panic, his hand hesitating over the button that would call Tony and Steve. Until she stopped, her hands wrapped around something. Something that Bucky couldn’t believe. And so he called for Steve. 

“Is she okay?” Steve asked out of breath, 

“I need you to put me in a cell tonight” Bucky said calmly, it wasn’t a request Steve wanted to hear, 

“What’s going on? Do I need to call Shuri?” 

“She’s got the bear” Bucky said quietly, 

“The bear?” Steve asked in a dumbfounded way, he knew it was the middle of the night but his brain was desperately trying to keep up with Bucky’s train of thought

“When we were together we went to this bear shop, where you could design your own and she made a Bucky Bear” He said, tears daring to fall from his eyes “She  paid extra for her bear to have a matching arm to mine” His metal fingers flexed, “I always said that as long as she had the bear I’d be with her” His voice broke on the last syllable 

“Buck” 

“I need you to put me in a cell because otherwise I’m going to go in there and I can’t betray Tony like that” 

“I won’t lock you up” Steve said 

“Then call Tony” Bucky snapped 

“No” Steve said firmly 

“Steve I have very little willpower right now. I can’t stay away from her when she’s hurting like this” Bucky said 

“I don’t think you should” Steve said quietly, “I think she needs you” 

“She hates me” 

“She doesn’t” 

That was all Bucky needed to hear, he was soon outside her door, his knuckles tapping on the soft wood of her door. It creaked open to show Y/N with tear trails down her cheeks. She didn’t dare move when she saw Bucky, almost as though she had forgotten how to. 

“Y/N,” Bucky started but he couldn’t find the words 

“What did you want Bucky?” She asked tiredly rubbing her eyes, 

“I can’t” He took a deep breath “I lied, when I broke up with you. I lied to keep you safe, I was scared I was corrupting you. I wanted to keep you safe and I fucked up. But Y/N, I need to make it better tonight. I need you to let me hold you” he rambled quickly, 

“Bucky” Y/N started 

“I promise I will talk to you properly in the morning, you can yell or tell me you hate me, but please I can’t loose you. I won’t loose you. I need you to want to live, and I swear I will prove to you ever single day that life is worth it. Just please Y/N, if you can’t live for you, then live for me?” Bucky said he fell onto his knees begging Y/N, 

“Get up Buck” she said softly 

“Y/N” He started 

“I’ve always slept better with you in the room” she admitted. 

taglist

 @cookingdancingchick @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @olipiaa @scifinerd1818 @ordelixx @differenttyphoonwerewolf @unaxv @bumblingbamblingbandofbaboons @classyunknownlover @julvrs@scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @pigeonmama @sassyqueencowboy @callmissrogers @wintrsoldrluvr @weallhaveadestiny @almosttoopizza@blackhawkfanatic @violetwinterwidow01@abbyyourlocalmilf @am-3-thyst @buckitostan @hoomansstuff

[the-fictional-wife]

Finding Happiness (Itachi Uchiha x reader)- 1

This is the start of a series of scenarios for post-war Itachi (yes he lives) finding happiness with you! I miss fluff in Itachi's tag so why not make my own.

I want to mainly focus on the relationship but some chapters down the line will explain more plot also the chapter sequences might not end up in chronological order^^

This will be fem reader heads up so she/her pronouns!

Even though this isn't nsfw, some things in this series won't be exactly appropriate so imma still say MDNI!

////- means pov switch

Word count: 2.0k+

Chapter 1- Grocery Shopping + Cafe Cuties Next Chapter?

“I want to help.”

“You should want to take it easy instead,” you sigh. Itachi was up...yet again to help despite being on mandatory bedrest to help his body regain its strength back. He’s restless; it’s easy to understand; he’s banned from missions, and staying home is rather dull, but...

“Tsunade strictly said you were to rest while on house arrest. That’s the whole point I’m here.” You rest your arm on the cool kitchen countertop to grab a pen and begin writing down a shopping list with a huff.

“....”

At the silence, you turn around with pursed lips to face Itachi only to stifle a laugh when you see his face: eyebrows furrowed, lips just slightly jutted-

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s pouting.

“I would argue three weeks of nothing but bed imprisonment is adequate enough rest, don’t you agree.” Itachi huffs. 

After weeks of being detained right alongside Sasuke, Kakashi made the executive decision that Itachi deserved something better than a jail cell: temporary house arrest. 

With a babysitter. 

You glance at Itachi’s mildly annoyed face, momentarily taking in the sight.

You’ll spare him...for today.

“hm...fine, the sun would do you well anyway.” You finish writing the list and hand it to Itachi, whose eyes blankly rake the paper, then folds it into his pocket.

“Well, let’s go,” You stand at the doorway where a large black seal awaits, designed to trigger the alarm around Itachi’s ankle. Weaving the signs, you both squint at the burst of light before ushering him out the door.

As the two of you walk out of the Uchiha compound, you ponder over the last few weeks with Itachi. You can’t count the heart attacks you’ve gotten from seeing an empty bed and surprise; he was admiring the fish. 

He is a quiet, stealthy patient, somewhat akin to an 87-year-old senior citizen. On the more serious end, you think back solemnly; his eyes had often reflected his concession to emptiness. Sunken in and soulless.

‘But now…’ You peer at Itachi from the corner of your eye.

His eyes sharp and attentive; the color is back in his face; sunkissed pink cheeks, his short sleeve shirt giving view to his lean muscles-

‘He’s actually kinda...’ 

////

Itachi can’t tell if it’s the heat of your gaze or the sun flushing his cheeks.

Your gaze washes over him, a captivating light he yearns to forever bask in. Domesticity is a variable of life he is unacquainted with and…undeniably undeserving of. 

And yet, the further you expose him to gentleness, affection, and peace, the more he greedily deludes himself into that he belongs.

Encompassed in a life of peace he’s desperately craved, peace he’s found with you.

Within the shinobi existence, emotions, relationships…living. All become an unforeseeable luxury.  

It’s unsettling to desire. To be human.

Itachi silently shifts his eyes toward you, observing as you conceal your face, abashed from being caught. He finds himself smitten. 

“You were looking a little pale. If you feel weak at any time, don’t be afraid to lean on me.” 

A lie, of course. An utterly endearing one.

‘Perhaps, in this life…’

He capitalizes on the chance anyway. 

‘…I can be selfish.’

////

As you head into the village, you feel something creep around your arm. 

Neither of you acknowledge it.

+++

Your arm is still intertwined with Itachi’s as you both find purchase in a decently sized everything market. Waving to the cat perched in the front, you read the aisle numbers with its affiliated products: ‘Household items- 1, Toys- 2, Jewelry- 4,...Fruits & Dairy- 5’. After detecting where you wanted to begin, you guys head to your destination, avocados. 

Itachi lightly tugs your arm, signaling your attention.

“It’ll be quicker if we split. The potatoes are within eye range; I’ll only be a minute.” Your face scrunches in; reluctantly, you let go with a poorly concealed pout.

“... don’t trust me? I promise I’ll return to you shortly.” With that, Itachi saunters, leaving a lingering graze against your skin. 

You pause, leaving the way your heart palpitates unavowed. ‘A kiss would have sufficed,’ you snicker and return to your dilemma with hunched shoulders.

You’re on your fifth avocado before you give a groan of defeat. “I can’t tell which ones are good or not; they all look the same,” you mumble, distracted enough to miss the figure peering closer.

“May I see?”

His gentle whisper tickles your ear, you force the quiver down your spine to still- even when you feel his careless lips making one too many brushes to your ear, you wordlessly nod yes.

His broad chest and feather touch of his hair against your cheek overwhelm your senses as he reaches his arm around your waist to probe at the fruit you have in hand.

You pray he can’t feel the way your heart beats.

“Hmm...this one is ripe. You can tell by the dark color and firmness...good eye.” Within a blink, the weight of Itachi’s presence vanished, and he pulled away.

Ah. That.

“R-right, thank you,” you fumbled over your wording and rushed to the edge of the aisle. “Okay, let’s split from here to make things easier; I do the first half of the list, you do the last. Capeesh?” Fingers bend into a okay sign; you give a shaky grin and rush down to the next aisles, leaving Itachi to fend for himself.

“...” Itachi blinks, idly standing before he lets out a defeated puff of air.

 ‘...It appears I’ve made a mistake.’ With furrowed brows, he peers down at the list with a harsh, focused stare.

Your mind hasn’t left Itachi as your heart physically pains in guilt; it’s his first time out in weeks, and you flat leave him. Putting your final item in your shopping basket, you haul it down Itachi’s direction, only to find him in the exact same position as before.

Tilting your head, you ask befuddled, “Itachi, what are you doing?...” Oh. 

You steer closer, and the pitiful sight in front of you makes your shoulders pull straight; Itachi’s eyes strain, glaring down at the paper an inch away from his face at a poor attempt at reading the words.

He can’t see.

‘How long has he been-’ you quickly shuffle in your bag and call for Itachi’s attention. “You should’ve said something! I had brought your glasses with me, but I completely forgot about it-” Itachi takes it with a grateful upturn of his lips.

“Thank you..” He mutters, drawing his attention back to the list. “We are still missing the tomatoes and bread; I passed them earlier on our way in. Follow me.” Itachi gingerly takes your wrist in hand and leads you down the correct aisle.

Soon after you paid, you’ve collectively decided to grab a bite to eat. “Itachi, you smell that?” You sigh out an exhale; an alluringly sweet smell wafts itself above all the open markets along the sides from a small corner amongst the buildings. A mini cafe.

You brush against the roughness of Itachi’s calloused fingers, only grabbing his pinkie to lead him down.

You’ll pretend like you didn’t see the way he flushed. 

+++

Slouching in the seat across Itachi, you flex out the ache in your fingers from the weight of the bags as you wait for your shared order of dangos.

“I’ll assist you with the baggage on our way out.”

Looking up in disbelief, you scoff,  “Hell no- you’re still in recovery.”

“Don’t overwork yourself for my sake....”

Hypocrite.

You open your mouth to respond, only to suppress yourself at the sight of the waiter approaching.

The waiter smiles while serving your drink and food, then turns over and carelessly drops Itachi’s tea, droplets splashing onto Itachi’s lap.

With a twitching smile, the waiter laughs, “Oh, how clumsy of me, you should get yourself clean. You mutt; should be easy for a traitor, always covering his dirt.” Your mouth is agape, eyes shifting from Itachi to the waiter.

Itachi remains unfazed, his gaze fixed on the waiter with an air of nonchalance. It’s almost patronizing. The waiter scowls, turning away from the stare-down, muttering his pitiful complaints about Itachi’s mere presence.

“Geez, what was their problem?” You scoff side eyeing the waiter. Itachi sits silently, sipping his tea, looking down at his plate with a vacant stare. “...Itachi, you okay? I’ll go backhand a bitch for you, they had no right to treat you like that.” 

Itachi’s eyes shift to you at your aggressive demeanor. “Don’t. I’ve made peace with my past; their hate will only torment themself.” 

A lie. For a brisk moment, you noted how his mug trembled under the tension of his grip. You make a tsk noise, propping your head onto your hand, reluctantly letting the situation go.

Glancing up, Itachi discerns how your lips are still pulled into a snarl, glowering in the general direction of the offender. 

‘Hm, that won’t do.’

Rolling back the ache in his shoulders, he figures he could relieve your tension. If it’d make you smile,

“…besides…”

He’d be a fool. 

You turn back over with an inquiring hum.

“...they just aren’t sigma enough to control themself.” He returns to sipping his tea.

“…”

“....”

“Pfft- WHAT” You break the silence, convulsing with laughter. “I-Itachi, don’t ever say that in your life again- I’m not a good influence on you.” Still unable to break the giggles, you look at Itachi’s soft stare and slowly compose yourself under his unwavering gaze.

You cough in your hand and shift your eyes away.

“Let’s eat.”

You fall into a rhyme of chewing and idle conversation. 

“See, now you’re lying! I never laughed when you put your glasses on-” The table shifts from the weight of your knee. You firmly dangle Itachi’s wrist away from his glasses as he attempted to remove them a few seconds ago.

“...you couldn’t even catch your breath.”

“I was just surprised! I’ve never seen your eyes so…beady.” You tremble, holding back a cackle. His prescription, unfortunately, made his lens the size of a brick, but thankfully, Tsunade aided in making it more suitable.

“So now my eyes are beady,” His voice barely whispers, he looks off to the side. A look of dismay washed over your face; you cusp his face between your hands, pulling his gaze back up to you.

“Hey- don’t get all mopey; you know I think you’re cute with the glasses on.” You softly look to reassure him, guilty over your tease...until you notice the subtle twitch in his lips, a poor attempt at maintaining his stoic facade.

He was joking. 

Itachi shifts his weight into your palms, eyes closed in total serenity. “Do I?...”

‘Absolutely full of himself.’ You express your annoyance with an eye roll and flop back into your seat, leaving Itachi’s head to hang.

‘...did I displease her again.’ Itachi looks down at the final dango stick and holds it to you.

“Here, a truce for forgiveness.”

“But, that’s your favorite…and we bought that with your budget-” you sheepishly add.

“Please, I insist, I...don’t think I can finish this.” Itachi gives a light smile as he hovers the stick to your lips.

The blood rising to your face makes you dazed as you brush aside bits of your hair and savor the first dango ball on your tongue with a hum.

You swear it tastes sweeter from him.

“Thank you, Itachi; consider yourself forgiven.” You say before opening your mouth for the next one.

+++

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

“All done,” you brush your hands off proudly after putting away all the supplies and produce. When cleaning up the bags, you notice a mini bag that looks different from the rest. 

‘Could this be Itachi’s?...’ You gently spread open the bag, eyes widening in astonishment; a beautiful crystal necklace sweetly lying in a small box with a small note tagged onto the front.

It reads,

‘I hope it’s to your liking, I noticed you wear this color frequently. Let this be a mark of our friendship ~ Itachi.’

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

Note: Heyyy haven't wrote anything since like 2021 but I might be back probably, probably not- This is pretty self-indulgent but hope yall still enjoyed ^^

Do I think Itachi would say "sigma" if it meant you'd laugh for him after feeling like he depressed the mood? YES. Live with my canon.

Do I think Itachi actually likes physical touch but is just touch starved? YES. I'm projecting.

Any sort of love is appreciated don't be shy to say hi and good luck to everyone during finals week!

*Also-If you have any tips on writing + writing Itachi please let me know!

[pedge-stuff]

102 degrees (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug. (:

summary: maybe it's the fever talking, but Pedro might finally be ready to go public with your relationship.

————————————————————————

It’s not a whine, per se— more like a thin, whistle-y exhale as the press tents come into view. A noise of quiet resignation; Pedro is exhausted, and the night hasn’t even started. 

There is little comfort you can offer. You’ve been careful not to touch his face or hair throughout the ride, per the explicit instructions of Mira. This has left you no option but the back of his neck, between the high collar of his overcoat and the lowest hang of his curls. You thumb rhythmically over the overly-warm, slightly damp skin. Small comforts. 

Of course he’d wake up with the flu on the day of the biggest premiere of his career thus far. “Fucking shit-ass karma,” he’d groaned between dry heaves over the toilet that morning. Three negative covid tests and a house-call IV drip later (celebrity medical care is, you’ve come to realize, very fucking weird), he was semi-functional. But fucking miserable.

This once, you’ll give your grown ass boyfriend a pass for whining. 

Though the windows are tinted, you are quick to remove your hand as the car pulls up. He is anxious enough about the evening, without having to worry about people seeing. You know the drill— low profile has basically become your middle name. The only thing worse than having the flu on premiere night, you muse, would probably be Pedro getting outed to the world. 

“It’s going to be fine,” you insist softly, squeezing his knee. “Carpet, premiere, talkback, reception. Easy.” 

He straightens out of his slump against you, taking a deep breath. “Easy,” Pedro repeated, unconvincingly. He sighs.

“Then a full cap of NyQuil and no alarm tomorrow morning.” 

You dare to grip his hand, one last time, as the car slows to a stop. He brings yours to his lips, and presses a (noticeably fever-warm) kiss to the exposed skin of your wrist.

"Only thing getting me through this is the prospect of going back to bed with you tonight."

"Mr. Pascal, are you coming on to me?"

He offers a weak chuckle. "Ask me again when I'm not about to barf in the back of an Uber."

The car slows to a stop. Another deep breath, as Pedro slips an easy mask back into place. "Carpet, premiere, talkback, reception."

— — — 

There are layers to the whole thing. You don’t begrudge his hesitancy, to publicly reveal your relationship. The few times a pap has caught you out together, the TMZ byline is something along the lines of “Pedro Pascal Seen Strolling Sunset with SNL Sidekick.” Perks of heteronormativity, you suppose. 

It’s all him. You’ve been out for a long, long ass time— frankly, never thought you’d go back in, til suddenly you’re signing an NDA and attaching yourself at the hip to a man whose hand you can’t hold in public. 

It’s not that he’s ashamed. (He reassures you of this often.) He’s just private, and unwilling to pop a bubble he’s lived comfortably in for the better part of five decades; sometimes, his perspective on (and fear of) public homophobia speaks volumes to the age gap between you. 

So you stand back, under the cover of the press tents, watching Pedro walk the carpet. You’re in good company— Mira and Coco track him beside you with narrowed eyes, vigilantly monitoring him for accidental hair touches or makeup smudges. 

He sways on his feet between interviews. Your heart clenches.

The carpet is short, much less elaborate than the ones at awards ceremonies. After a few interviews and a series of photographs, everyone starts slowly making their way into the theater.

You hang back in the lobby, a little unsure of how to proceed. There is guest seating in the mezzanine, mostly for the press reporters and various network reps in attendance. It's not a big venue. The main seating is reserved, obviously, for the people actually associated with the show. And their guests. Which is, technically, you, but... Well.

You maybe should have ironed this out prior to arrival. The whole flu thing kinda took priority.

"Yo!" There is a light shove on your shoulder. Bella, flush with excitement and fresh off the carpet, pulls you in for a quick hug. "Your man is so unwell."

They are laughing, though your heart clenches. Poor baby. "This would only happen to him," you agree. "He come in already?" You'd been scanning the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Like a fan. (A fan that spent the better part of the morning pressing a cold washcloth to his neck, sitting on the bathroom floor.)

Bella cocked an eyebrow. "You guys are so fucking weird about this shit." They are privy to the details, courtesy of Pedro. Apparently it was a hot topic of conversation while killing time on set. You'd received many a FaceTime during long stop-downs between takes; calls you'd assume were your boyfriend, but had Bella cackling on the line after you picked up.

As if on cue, a mass of black fabric appears in your periphery.

"Are you conspiring to put me out of my misery?" Pedro is still wearing his 'everything is fine and I'm doing great' press smile.

"Duh." Bella smooths down the front of their blazer. "I think it's gonna start soon? I gotta find my mom."

They wade back into the dwindling crowd, leaving you and your germy boyfriend in the corner. Pedro's eyes are closed, as he takes measured breaths through his nose.

"Oh babe," you whisper quietly. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

He softens. "It's okay. I'm okay. Gonna be honest, I'm relieved we're about to sit down for a couple hours."

"Just a few more hours left, that's all. I'll see you at the reception?" Your eyes drift to the door upstairs, behind the velvet rope separating press and attendees.

“Are we not—“ He clears his throat, voice breaking weakly. “Are we not sitting together?”

His eyes are glassy, but lack the same fever-bright quality he’d woken up with. The crease between his eyes deepens as he frowns. This feels like the start of a larger conversation that most definitely will not be happening in the lobby of the Regency Village Theater. 

“We can,” you offer cautiously. “If that is what you want.” 

A large, slightly trembly hand grasps your shoulder. “Of course that’s what I want, love. ‘M sorry. It’s dark, it’s safe, I just… I’m so tired.” The last part is admitted in a pained whisper. Your heart aches. It takes a concerted effort to not reach out and touch him. (It usually does, in public. He is a tactile aficionado– preens over little touches, forehead kisses, the brush of your hand over his hair. You offer these so frequently in private, that in public, your hand twitches regularly against the impulses.)

Pedro's manager waves from the other side of the room. He musters a small smile, releasing the grip on your shoulder. "Premiere, talkback, reception. Bed."

In the stiff theater seats, he leans so far over the armrest, you know his back will be sore later. But he tucks himself into your side the moment the lights dim, head on your shoulder. The frame of his glasses digs into your neck, and you couldn't care less. Your focus is on the lines he is tracing into your palm, large hand cupping yours in your lap.

The show is fantastic. Of course. The talkback is short, courtesy of Craig, and the reception is informal enough that you are in-and-out. Pedro makes the rounds while you make awkward small talk with Bella's mom (whose name you always forget, dammit, but she's lovely nonetheless). Take two sips of some cocktail called "Look for the Light" and wait for your cue to leave. Though you remain blissfully flu-free, you have been anticipating the conclusion of this evening as strongly as Pedro.

The Uber home has to make an emergency stop, so the star of the evening can puke water and crackers on the side of Mulholland Drive. You tip well.

And then, hours after he stepped onto the carpet, the prophecy is fulfilled. Pedro is tucked into bed, dogs at his feet, empty but blue-tinged medicine cap discarded on the nightstand beside a mug of water and his glasses.

His face is smushed into the pillow. Eyelids at half-mast, as he watches you change out of your simple suit and into a pair of well-loved flannel bottoms.

You don't need a shirt. On cue, your boyfriend octopus-latches as you slide under the covers, head resting on your bare collarbone.

"You did good tonight," you say, through a yawn. Reach up to tug the chain on the bedside lamp. Your other hand cards through Pedro's hair, detangling little clumps of hair spray he was too tired to brush out. "'M so proud of you."

"I mean it," he whispers back. "It's time. I'm sick of not being able to hold your hand."

Your lips brush his temple. 'We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Plenty of time for it," he mumbles, right on the cusp of sleep. "Since we're not leaving this bed."

[pedroshotwifey]

Bad Idea

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, sex pollen, dubcon but not rly (just putting this here bc of the pollen), piv sex, softdom Frankie, smut, fluff, friends to lovers, Frankie is a fucking sweetheart, oral sex (f receiving), breeding kink if you squint, unsafe sex (wrap it before u tap it, babes), ill add more shit later if I missed something

Summary: While on a mission, you and Frankie find yourselves covered in some kind of pollen and realize that there is no chance you'll be able to resist each other.

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to finish this, I hope it was worth the wait! I'm not really sure what compelled me to make this so fluffy, but it's there, so, like, I hope you people like fluff. Likes, comments, and reposts are extremely appreciated <3 (Also feel I would love to start getting some requests in if anyone's up for it)

***

You knew this was a bad idea. 

It always is, accepting any kind of job that Santi offers you. But the asshole knows your weakness. He mentioned Frankie would be there and you were in. Suckered once again. He, and the rest of the group for that matter, seem to be well aware of your infatuation. Except for Frankie, of course. He’s never really seemed to pick up on it. Which, honestly, you’re not sure is a good thing or not. 

You’ve been harboring a massive crush on Frankie since the first time you were introduced. You and Santi–against your better judgment–had been longtime friends when he brought you to a local bar to meet up with some of his other buddies. You had been away on a job for the last year or so, so when he heard you were back in town he jumped at the opportunity. You hadn’t expected much, already knowing Ben and Will meant that you would only be meeting two guys you wouldn’t be familiar with. 

What you really didn’t expect was for one of them to be a devilishly handsome and ridiculously charming bachelor. Frankie had absolutely taken your breath away the first time you laid eyes on him. You two had hit it off immediately, practically separating from the rest of the group as you polished off drinks and told stories from your military days for the remainder of the night. 

Fortunately, you kept in touch through mutuals and occasionally worked together on smaller jobs–thank god for Santi. (But also fuck him.) Unfortunately, nothing ever came of it. Frankie never showed any kind of explicit interest in you, so you never pushed it. You were perfectly content to just be friends if that’s all he was willing to give you. 

That's exactly why it’s such a problem when you find yourself coated head to toe in some kind of powder, right next to Frankie, who received a dusting as well. Your walkie is going off at your hip and you briefly register Tom’s voice coming through the receiver. He is positioned right behind the two of you and got the perfect view of whatever the fuck just happened. One second the two of you were walking, looking for any signs of landmines or traps around the building you are targeting for the mission, and the next your vision was completely compromised by a soft yellow pollen. 

“Fuckkk,” you hear Frankie mutter next to you. You look at him with wide eyes as the powder settles on your skin, eliciting a tingling sensation wherever it touches. The said sensation, however, becomes the least of your problems when you feel the amount of slick that suddenly coats your panties. Your knees buckle and you have to drop your gun to hold your balance, which doesn’t seem to help much as you continue your descent to the forest floor. Frankie’s hand quickly shoots out and steadies you by your elbow but it only makes it worse. 

The feeling of his skin on yours acts as a balm on your quickly overheating flesh and you moan involuntarily at the feeling. He retracts his hand as if you had burned him and the action would have embarrassed you if not for the moan that slips out of Frankie’s lips, as if he had felt the same thing. At least it’s not just you. At the sound, you feel another wave of arousal coat your already-soaked panties, the wetness growing extremely uncomfortable as the fabric starts to stick to your cunt.

“Uh, F-Frankie,” your voice sounds weak as you call for him. You have no idea whether or not he heard you, but you take a guess based on the pained groan that escapes his lips. The sound is like heaven as it reaches your ears. 

Your vision grows slightly blurry as a sudden need to be fucked takes over all of your senses. Without Frankie’s hand to help you up, you let yourself fall the rest of the way so you can lie down on the ground beneath you. You watch as Frankie’s blurred form follows suit with a groan. You start to inch toward his writhing body until you hear Tom’s voice again, this time it sounds much clearer, like the connection is getting better as he gets closer to you. You struggle as you pick up your walkie and press the button. 

“D-don’t come any closer, we're covered in some kind of f-fucking pollen.” You have to take a breath before explaining further. “It’s itchy and it’s everywhere, stay where you’re at.” You don’t bother listening to his panicked response as you tuck the walkie back into the clip on your pants. Your skin feels tight and you can feel your clit starting to throb between your legs. It feels like the smallest amount of friction would grant you an orgasm, and as good as that sounds right now, you would rather not cream your pants in front of your crush.

“Fuck,” Frankie repeats his statement from earlier, his voice strained and raspy. “We need to get out of here.” You nod your agreement and crawl your way toward him, ignoring the way his skin feels so cool against your own as you reach out to help him up. The both of you use each other to get back to your feet. By the time you’re standing, the feeling is less overwhelming than it had been at first, enough so that you’re able to hold your balance this time. You pick up the weapons you had dropped while Frankie comms the rest of the guys to let them know what happened 

You definitely got the most of the blow, as you were the one who had stepped on whatever the fuck that plant was. Frankie had only been a few feet behind you and had been exposed to a good bit, but likely nowhere near what you had been covered in. At least one of you is lucid enough to figure out what to do next. You hear the tail end of the conversation before Frankie signs off of the walkie and bends down next to you. 

“Alright, Hermosa, I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” You hiss as Frankie wraps his arms around your sensitive skin, picking you up bridal style. 

“Fuck, Frankie, it hurts,” you whine and tuck your head into his neck, breathing in his scent. He is shaking slightly and even you can feel the way his skin has started to heat up. “I know, sweetheart, just hold on for me.” You nod into him and close your eyes, only opening them when you feel your body being set down in what you assume is the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck. He leans over you and you have to resist the urge to grab onto him as he buckles you in. 

You close your eyes again and wait until you hear Frankie get into the driver’s seat before you speak.

“I think I saw a motel a few miles from here.” Your throat feels like sandpaper as you struggle to get the words out. “I think I saw it, too.” Frankie’s voice doesn’t sound much better. The entire way to the motel the only thing you can focus on is how your nipples are rubbing painfully against your bra and how fucking bad you want to suck this man’s cock. Your thighs keep clenching and rubbing together and you have to bite down on your lip so as not to moan at the slight pressure. You feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Think you can walk, sweetheart?” You nod at Frankie’s question as he turns the truck off. His voice still sounds pained and you’re not even sure if yours will work at this point. He keeps one arm around you just in case as the two of you walk into the motel. He gets keys for two rooms and you feel a twinge of disappointment. It only lasts a second though, because you can’t think of much else than the fact that everything feels hot and sensitive. 

As soon as Frankie gets the keys, he leads you to the rooms. They're side by side so you won’t be far from him, and the fact that he will be in such close proximity, likely doing exactly what you’ll be doing, is enough to cloud your judgment again. And fuck, now you’re thinking about his cock again. You know it has to be big, there’s no way it isn’t, not for a man like him. Frankie sets one hand on the small of your back and leans over you to unlock your room for you. You gasp to cover your moan as you suddenly feel something else against your back, definitely not his hand this time. 

“You’ll be okay?” Frankie’s concerned tone cuts you out of your spiraling thoughts. You look up into his own lust-blown eyes. He looks fucking wrecked. God, you would get on your knees in the middle of this dirty hallway for him right now if he only asked. “Yeah, you?” You ask when he doesn’t. He nods slowly, and you let your eyes fall to his plush lips before trailing back up to meet his gaze again. He says your name lowly, like a warning, and you lick your lips, ignoring his tone. 

You roll your hips back against his while keeping eye contact, watching Frankie groan as you grind on him. His hands fall to your hips and he begins to guide you against him. “W-why don’t you come inside?” You ask him breathily. “Are you sure that's what you want?” He steadies your hips and brings his face down so he can whisper in your ear. “If you let me in there, I’m not letting you leave until I’ve properly taken you apart.” You shiver at both the way his words elicit another gush of slick from your cunt and at the way his tone turns dark so quickly, letting you know he means it. 

Instead of answering him, you turn on your heel and crush your lips to his, your hands going up to wrap around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair, knocking his hat to the ground. Frankie moans deeply and grabs onto you as he guides you backward into the room. His tongue finds its way into your mouth as he slams you against the door once it's closed, both of you grinding against each other like desperate teenagers. He only breaks apart once he hears you whine in pure desperation. 

He steps back and takes in your disheveled appearance, his hand flying to the front of his pants to rid himself of his belt. “Strip, get on the bed.” You don’t need to be told twice. You practically rip your clothes off as you stumble through the room. Each article removed feels like a relief, allowing the cool air to kiss your skin, sticky with sweat. Frankie does the same, both of you completely naked by the time you reach the bed. The sight of his cock hanging flushed and heavy between his molded thighs makes your mouth water.  

He quickly climbs on top of you and you both moan at the way your flesh brushes together, temporarily soothing the burning sensation. Frankie wastes no time in lowering himself to a position easiest to lick into your aching cunt. 

The first stroke of his tongue makes you scream out and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. He immediately starts eating you out like a starved man, licking and sucking and fucking you with his tongue like there’s no tomorrow. You throw your head back as your free hand buries itself in Frankie’s hair. He groans when you tug on the strands and you swear you can feel the vibrations run up your spine. 

You feel the knot in your stomach growing embarrassingly fast, your entire body tensing as you reach the edge. 

“F-fuck, Frankie, fuck-” you unsucessfully attempt to get a sentence out. “God, don’t stop, please, god!” You feel him smirk as he continues his assault, before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard. 

You think you scream as you climax, but you can’t be sure. There is nothing you can feel, see, or hear other than the orgasm Frankie is currently riding you through. It’s the most intense thing you have ever felt, and you don't know if it's because of the pollen or because it’s Frankie. Probably a good bit of both. 

He continues to eagerly lap up your release until you pull him away when the overstimulation starts to become too much. Hand still in his hair, you guide him up your body until you can look above you and into his eyes. Your heavy breathing catches in your throat when you see the sticky liquid dripping down the lower half of his face. 

“Oh my god…” you trail off as his smile widens, his tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip. “Look so fuckin’ beautiful when you squirt, Hermosa.” He brings his lips down to yours in a bruising kiss and you sigh as you taste your release on him. Needless to say, you get over your embarrassment pretty quickly. 

Despite your orgasm, your skin seems to burn even more than before, and your clit seems to throb out of control. All it takes is one look to know that Frankie feels the same way. His eyes are filled to the brim with tears getting ready to overflow and you have no doubt that your expression matches his own.

Before either one of you gets a chance to say anything, Frankie surges forward and encases your lips in his own. He kisses you sloppily as he pushes you back even deeper into the mattress. 

“Gonna f-fuck you now, Hermosa,”  he says, his voice bordering a whine. “Need to feel this soft fucking pussy.” You whine in a way you hope signals your agreement, your arms wrapping underneath Frankie’s to let your fingers claw at his back. “Just f-fucking hurry,” you manage to squeak, your skin burning as you grasp at him.

He listens, immediately scrambling to grasp his weeping cock and guide it to your sopping entrance while keeping one forearm settled next to your head for stability. There is almost no resistance as he slips in, bottoming out in one frantic thrust. The two of you moan in unison, capturing each other's desperate noises. 

Frankie wastes no time in setting a hurried pace. The force of his thrusts makes the headboard of the bed slam against the wall but you can’t find it in you to care. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he immediately starts to hit something heavenly within you. The pressure is already building up in your abdomen.

You open your mouth to scream but you find that the punch of his thrusts are restricting your ability to make any kind of sound. Your eyes close as your second orgasm sneaks up on you. With two more frenzied thrusts from Frankie, you’re coming undone around his thick cock. 

Frankie hisses as you squeeze around him, the added sensitivity from the pollen enhancing every small stimulant. 

“God, not gonna last long in this s-sweet cunt, pretty girl.” Frankie’s voice is pitched an octave higher than usual as he tries to stave off his own orgasm–damn well bordering a whine. You can feel how close he is by the way his dick pulses with need and by the way he clings tighter tighter to the bedsheets beside your head. 

“Go ahead, Frankie, need you to come inside me.” He practically whimpers at the request but shakes his head to juxtapose the noise. 

“N-no baby, give me o-one more first.” He’s shaking with the amount of effort he’s exerting to hold off. Almost as if your body is listening to his demands before you can process, you find yourself arching your back as you spasm around his cock once again. It takes you by surprise–you didn’t even realize you were that close. 

Completely fucked out, you let Frankie use your body to chase his own end. “Come on baby, mark me, come inside,” you slur your permission for a second time. He lets out a guttural groan as he lowers his head to nuzzle into your neck. His strokes get deeper with the lower position and you wince from the overstimulation, though you want more at the same time. 

“Yeah, Hermosa, that’s what you want, huh? Let me come inside this pretty pussy, let everyone know who you belong to now? Let everyone know that you’re fucking ruined for any other man?” His pace gets more frantic as his own words spur him on. You whine at the thought of the people knowing that Frankie fucked you, laid his claim on you, made you his. 

“Yes, Frankie, God please,” you keen into his ear as you bring one of your hands down to tangle your fingers into his curls, bringing him closer into your neck. “I’m yours, all yours, take what you want, baby.” 

Your words push Frankie off the edge and his teeth lock onto your neck while he comes to a stop deep inside you. You pull him closer still, encouraging him to leave his mark. As his seed floods into your cunt, it feels like you jumped into a pool of cool water. Your entire body relaxes further and by the way Frankie settles his weight onto you, you figure he feels the same way. 

After his dick stills and softens inside you, the two of you lay there for a moment. You run your fingers through Frankies messed hair while he licks over the mark he made on your throat. It feels like the most natural thing, laying there with him tangled in your arms, his head on your chest, both of you on the verge of sleep. You’re about to drift off when Frankie interrupts the silence in a gentle tone. 

“Been wanting to do that for so long, pretty girl,” he says quietly, his voice filled with sleep. Your eyes open and are immediately filled with tears. 

Frankie must sense the way you tense up because he quickly lifts up to look at you. You can see the panic that blooms in his eyes as he meets yours. Before he is able to say anything, though, you surge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting your lips onto his.

You feel a few tears drop from your closed eyes, but you ignore them as you continue to kiss him and push until he’s forced to lay on his back, pulling you with him. When you finally separate, you stare into eachothers eyes, both of you with lopsided, love-drunk smiles. 

“Me too. I’ve wanted you for so long, Fish, you have no idea.” 

“You’re right,” He huffs a laugh as he says it. “I had no idea, I never thought you could feel that way about me. You’re so fucking perfect and I don’t deserve any part of you. I'm just…” he trails off and looks down for a second before meeting your gaze again.

You give him a slightly confused look as you answer him. “I thought I was being so obvious,” you laugh quietly in return. “I’m nowhere near perfect, sweet boy. Even if I was, you deserve anything you could ever want. I want you, Frankie. Do I deserve you?”

He doesn’t miss a beat before he has you pulled into his chest. “Of course, angel, you deserve everything, I’ll give you anything.” 

You’re crying again and you wipe away your tears before saying what you need to say. “I love you, Frankie.” You look into his eyes to see that he is tearing up as well.

“I love you too, my perfect girl,” he says softly as he pulls you into a hug and rocks you, his one of his hands on the back of your head, tucking you into his chest. You close your eyes and breath in his scent, knowing that this is where you belong. 

pt. 2??

[lacontroller1991]

Come Back to Me (Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Star Wars Master List

Author's Note: So I saw one edit on TikTok of Jedi Daddy Kenobi, and then I fell in a rabbit hole and now here we are again. If you guys have any requests, I’ll be open to them, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll write for them as I am a college student, but still if you have some, I’m more than happy to hear what you guys would like!

Warnings: Order 66, Blood, gunshot wound, canon typical violence

Word Count: 1.2k

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Obi-Wan treads through the hallway with his lightsaber lit in hand, an uneasy feeling settling in as he looks around and takes in all the various bodies on the floor. “Who could have done something like this?”

Yoda frowns beside him, a heavy feeling in his heart as he extends his hand, trying to feel any sign of life but lowering it when he feels none. “A sith, perhaps.” Yoda knows the truth, Obi-Wan does too, though he won’t admit it. Who had attacked the Jedi temple being the last thing he’s worried about, right now, his sole goal is to find you. Sensing Obi-Wan’s feelings for you, Yoda turns to the taller Jedi with a terse frown. “Find her, you must.” Obi-Wan doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s bolting away from the Grand Master and trying to locate your force signature.

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You let out a hiss as you try to apply more pressure to your wound but to no avail as the blood keeps pouring, sweat dripping down your body and onto the floor. When the initial attack had started, you tried defending others, tried fighting for others, but once you saw the familiar black cape of your lover’s former padawan, you tried to make a run for cover. Even though you’re a Jedi, and a talented one at that, you knew that you could never face Anakin; sweet little Anakin.

Not so sweet anymore, you think to yourself bitterly as you tighten the piece of fabric around your shoulder. Although you had managed to escape the former Jedi Knight’s view, you unfortunately hadn’t been that lucky as not even a minute later a blaster shot went straight through your shoulder. After having quickly decapitated your once ally, you make your way to the only safe spot you know, Obi-Wan’s quarters where you rest now, hoping to stay awake long enough to pass the time or for Obi-Wan to find you.

Surprisingly to Obi-Wan, managing to find your force signature had been rather easy. Maybe it’s because of the connection you and him share, maybe it’s because you’ve never been good at hiding it from him or maybe because you’re too weak physically to close it off; but whatever the case, Obi-Wan is glad that he is quickly able to locate you, in his room.

Sliding the door open, his blue eyes immediately land on your form, leaning against his bedpost and clutching your shoulder. “Oh darling.”

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His voice causes your head to turn to the door where you find him standing in the doorway, too scared to move. “Hey Kenobi, glad to see you safe,” you manage to comment as he takes your side, looking you over with his brows creased. “I tried to fight them off, but there were so many of them.”

“Shh shh, you’re okay, you’re going to be okay,” he comments to himself and you don’t know if that’s supposed to be to reassure you or him, but you don’t really protest when he moves your hand out of the way and holds more pressure onto your wound. “Who hurt you?”

“One of the clones. Took me by surprise. But Obi, it’s Anakin. He did all this.” Obi-Wan’s eyes close in grief and betrayal. What had he done in his career, in his life, to cause Anakin to turn to the dark side. Seeming to notice his turmoil, you took his face in your good hand, running a thumb across his dirtied cheek. “It’s not your fault.”

Obi-Wan looks at you with unshed tears in his eyes. It is his fault. He was tasked to train Anakin and failed. He tasked himself with protecting you and once again, failed. “Let me get you to safety.” Being careful to mind your damaged shoulder, Obi-Wan lifts you into his arms with ease and carries you through the door and out to the ship where Yoda waits with Bail and a medical droid. “We need to get her into a bacta tank.” Bail leads Obi-Wan on board the spacecraft before Obi-Wan is setting you on a bed, hand pushing back your hair as he looks down on you with guilt and pity. “I’m so sorry, my darling. I should never have left you alone.” He continues to pet your hair as you shake your head while the droid attends to your wound.

“Obi, you were only doing what was best for our republic. No one could have seen this happening.”

“I should have been there to protect you.” You can tell when Obi-Wan is beating himself up. You can also tell when - even despite his normal cool headedness - that he’s about to do something dumb.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re going to be okay. Okay?” Obi-Wan nods his head, leaning down and resting his forehead against your damp one, both of your force signatures wrapping around each other as a peace settles over you for the moment.

“I have to stop him.” He comments quietly, trying to control his body. If he’s being honest, he’s terrified. He’s terrified to face who he once called his brother. He’s terrified of what his brother had turned into.

“I know you do. Just please, please, come back to me Obi. I already lost so many people, I can’t lose you too.” He nods quietly before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead that he wishes could last an eternity before he breaks apart, looking behind him at Bail and Yoda (who didn’t seem bothered by the display of affection, lest he won’t comment on it right now).

“Take care of her for me?” Bail wordlessly nods as he walks away, leaving the three Jedi and the droid. Turning back to you, Obi-Wan gives your hand one last squeeze as you smile softly up at him. “Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m away.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” The two of you chuckle for a moment before silence falls once more. “I love you, Obi-Wan.”

“I love you too.” He gives you one last smile before walking off the ship with Yoda in tow. “I’m not sure I can defeat him, Master.”

Yoda mindlessly taps his cane as he shakes his head. “Defeat him you will, Obi-Wan. Trust in the force.” Obi-Wan nods his head in compliance, thankful for the elder Jedi’s words of encouragement and thankful that he made no comment about the confession Obi-Wan and you shared.

“I don’t know where to look for him.” It’s a half lie. Wherever he finds Padme, Anakin probably isn’t too far.

“Trust in your senses you must.” Obi-Wan nods solemnly, taking one last look at the ship and silently praying to the stars that you’ll be okay by the time he gets back.

“May the force be with you, Master Yoda.”

“May the force be with you, Master Kenobi.”

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Author’s Note: Like I said, I haven’t written for Obi Wan in a while so I hope you guys enjoyed!!!

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