#the top left face was a first attempt at drawing him

[nugulover69]

Assorted Tusk scribbles 🐘💚

[swordgrace]

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ gwayne hightower x wife!reader.

SYNOPSIS: After your husband returns from Rook’s Rest, mostly unscathed, you are quick to indulge him to make up for lost time.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 5.1K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), first time writing for gwayne, please be gentle, gwayne is very cunt-struck in this fic, sub-ish gwayne, armor removal descriptions, mild wound tending, making out, both of them are desperate, unprotected sex, p in v sex, bathtub sex, riding (fem on top), handjob, oral sex (fem!rec), hair pulling kink, choking, breast play, cockwarming at the end

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I absolutely adore Gwayne and I felt like this was a really good way to warm up and get used to writing for him! I’m really glad that I’m seeing more Gwayne requests, this was ridiculously fun to write! ❤️ Thank you all so much for your love & continued support, it means more to me than you realize!

At the precipice of the gates of the Red Keep, emerald banners flew, embellished with the golden sigil of a dragon — the King’s dragon, laying half-deceased in the Dragonpit and the King himself, ripped apart and scorched beyond recognition.

A horrible thing, to be sure — your sister-by-law had become miserable and despondent when the news of her son’s maiming reached her. Whatever comfort you attempted to offer had been dismissed, but it was commonplace, not that you minded. You understood her desire to be left alone.

It was a cloudy, dismal day, marked by the overcast of gray and gloom, a dour portrait that only seemed furthered by the King’s potential demise. Rook’s Rest was outwardly displayed as some great victory, a vanquishing of Queen Rhaenyra’s forces and her allies.

Yet, the countenance of your Knight Hightower told a different tale altogether.

Becoming betrothed and wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower had been the hallmark of your family’s importance, a union of prosperity to further your standing in the realm, but it meant more to you than that. Gwayne had grown on you with the passage of time, witty and sharp-tongued, a proficient fighter with a calm rationality.

As the gates swung open to welcome those survivors of Rook’s Rest home, you desperately searched for the velveteen tabard and copper mane, wringing your hands together beside the Queen Dowager.

His armor glistened beneath the sheen of clouds, dingy and speckled with cruor and mud, his visage stained in dried crimson and soot. He was so comely and debonair, yet he seemed rather sour when he dismounted from his gelding, swiftly tugging his helmet aside.

Your feet moved before you could summon any logical thought, rushing to him across the Keep’s courtyard and into his expectant embrace. Plate-clad arms held you close as he inhaled a gust of your scent, marigold and honey, just as saccharine as he remembered. “My love.” He sighed, loud enough for only you to hear.

Before you could cage him within your own embrace, he let out a strenuous grunt, attempting to be subtle with the painful noise. “Husband,” It delighted you to see his face again — it had been weeks. “Are you hurt?” You fussed, brows knitting together as you inspected him for any critical wounds.

Gwayne bore the scars of battle beneath, save for the cut upon his lip and bruising around his cheek. His body was undeniably sore, riddled in bruises from falling, muscles aching from wielding a blade and weeks on the road. “You needn’t worry yourself into a stupor, dearest. I will survive.” He sighed.

“You do understand that it will only prompt me to worry more, instead of less.” Begrudgingly, Gwayne decided to let you dote over him — he quite enjoyed the attention whenever you did. “Perhaps we shall draw you a bath, and a proper meal to accompany it.”

Relief settled within his features, knowing that he would be well cared-for. He counted on you to ensure that he was pampered after every conflict — it was a habit you had developed. Despite the dull throbbing that consumed his body, he offered his forearm to you, delighted to have you at his side again.

He was rather captivating in his armor, shimmering and broad, a true Knight of the realm. Despite the tarnish and wear of his plate, he still seemed flawless, as if he were incapable of possessing any imperfections.

The Red Keep loomed overhead as many soldiers fought to lick their wounds, much of it from the angry bite of dragonfire. Gwayne was fortunate to remain mostly unscathed, aside from his pride. He could not stomach another day with Criston Cole, whose overconfidence often felt like a burden.

The sight of men being obliterated into nothing more than ash and bone was a harrowing sight, one that he desperately attempted to purge from his memory. It was good to be here with you, holding you again, giving him a worthwhile distraction.

Gwayne sought the solace and sanctity of your shared chambers within the Keep, but he missed Oldtown above all. Your marital quarters there far outweighed those here in the capital in terms of lavishness and comfort, but whatever lodgings offered to him now, he wouldn’t refuse. A feathered bed and pillow seemed heavenly after weeks of sleeping on rock and coarse rags.

Pale cerulean hues appraised you with a subtle hunger, finding the supple curves of your physique through the sage silk of your gown. Once you were in private corridors, he made his desire known, manifesting it into reality. “I must say, you look rather fetching, my dear.” Gwayne hummed. “Did you know of my return?”

“Perhaps,” Countering his flirtation with a teasing smile of your own, you gently nudged past the set of heavy oaken doors, making your way into your chambers. The servants there acted at your beck and call as you had them prepare a bath. “Perhaps I simply prefer to wear lavish silks each day.”

With a bemused scoff, Gwayne ogled you through half-lidded eyes, and as soon as the doors slammed shut behind you, he coaxed you in for a kiss. His mouth tasted like the bitter sting of copper coupled with brimstone and woodland musk, but you didn’t care in the slightest.

He cared little for prying eyes, desiring to claim your mouth for himself — it had been far too long. Passion and want were interlaced into each stroke of his lips, and you matched his caliber of desire, palms seeking to perch themselves atop his chest.

Gwayne exhaled, savoring your saccharine taste, the insatiable warmth of your pliant mouth. “I missed your mouth, wife,” He groaned, pearlescent teeth greedily capturing your lower lip as he caged you in against him. His blood ran hot even still, the adrenaline of war still lingering, yet you spurred him on. “Perfect as ever.”

“Gwayne,” His eagerness surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome, not in the slightest. “What about the servants?” You mumbled, skin crawling with heat as he insistently tugged you closer, auburn brows furrowing together.

A twinge of desperation followed from your Knight-husband, watching as he palmed at the swell of your hips. “What of them?” He murmured, caring little for the wandering eyes of handmaidens. They were like a flock of hens, squabbling after any scrap of gossip. “Surely, you would not deny your husband a kiss.”

“I would, if my husband vexed me.” You were able to both get a rise out of Gwayne and charm him all in the same turn, turning your head at the last moment. His mouth fell against your cheek instead, much to his disgruntlement. You would make it up to him.

Once the servants finished pouring a bath for your husband and preparing a hearty meal that transcended field rations, Gwayne felt as if he could relax, the tension in his shoulders unfurling. He stepped toward the washroom, unceremoniously falling against one of the velvet-cushioned chairs.

The wooden frame groaned in protest, rickety and barely able to bear the weight of his armor. He tossed his head back, finally able to breathe and relax within the sanctuary of his own quarters. No muddied tent above his head or the swaying of trees, no rancorous men, and no Dornishmen to tell him what to do.

With a steady exhale, he began to unfasten the innumerable amount of buckles and straps upon his armor, beginning with his gauntlets and vambraces. His brow remained creased with concentration, strands of copper stresses glued to his temples, lip curled with inklings of mild irritation.

“Would you like help?” You inquired, knowing that Gwayne would be too stubborn to accept it, but you were pleasantly surprised when he became subservient. With an indignant huff, he sat back, sluggishly offering you his body with a low hum.

“If you feel that you must toil over my armor, I suppose you can lend your assistance,” Gwayne prattled on, though his breath hitched slightly when you neared him, standing in between his legs as you went about freeing him. Cerulean hues traced over your form, desperate to see your naked flesh. “Hm.”

His quick tongue and eloquent speech once irked you, but now, it was simply him. You rather enjoyed when he regaled you with his flowery words and streak of arrogance, a haughtiness that seemed to run predominantly within his family.

As you set yourself to the task of unburdening your husband from his armor, Gwayne busied himself with ogling your bosom, jaw tense and tight. A warm coil formed within his stomach, the onset of arousal as he carefully admired you, his enchanting paramour.

Unclasping his cloak, Gwayne shifted enough for you to remove it, neatly folding it into a rectangle as you draped it over the arm of the lounge. “I missed you,” You confessed, knowing that his ego would momentarily swell tenfold — it was simply in his nature. “These past few weeks were rather tense, wrought with strife.”

“Allow me to guess,” Gwayne guffawed, a smirk toying at either corner of his mouth. “Something to do with my nephews, or perhaps my sister.” Admittedly, you were lonely without him — the capital didn’t suit you, nor did any of its hostile inhabitants.

A soft huff of amusement escaped you, but you happened to shake your head, lifting a wet cloth to his lips as you dabbed at the dried blood. “One would think,” With an amiable smile, you rid your husband’s stunning visage of cruor. “I yearned to have my husband by my side, that is all.”

Gwayne’s gaze became soft in your presence, fluttering across your captivating features and gentle smile. Knowing that you missed him happened to evoke some semblance of delight, filling him with a familiar warmth that eased his aching bones.

“I am here now,” He assured, reaching for your hand as he cradled it within his own. Rough lips pressed themselves against your knuckles. “You shall have your husband for as long as you please.”

Stepping inward, your lips moved to bury themselves into his disheveled tresses, presenting him with a kiss. You always feared Gwayne riding off to fight in a war, coming to terms with the painful idea of never seeing him again. “As long as I please? That is forever, then. Cole cannot take you from me again.”

You were an excellent wife, perhaps the best — he had gotten incredibly lucky with you, a rare jewel, resplendent and glittering all for him, something to covet. He watched as you unfastened the leather straps with haste, placing each piece down atop the footlocker at your side.

Gwayne winced when you happened to tug just a touch too hard, body wracked with aches and pains, pale flesh flourishing with the wounds of war. “Gently, wife. I am still needed in one piece.” A low grunt tore past his lips, one that happened to come across as a suppression of mild agony.

Perplexed, you reached for the collar of his gorget, attempting to be as gentle as possible in its removal. It was difficult, given how much he wore — plate and chainmail weren’t exactly comfortable to wear. The relief he felt was visible, scrawled into his handsome features as he reclined into the cushions.

Broad-shouldered and corded with taut muscle, you often found Gwayne to be beautiful in some ways, painfully handsome to behold. When you’d gotten rid of his upper armor, you noticed the battlefield of flourishing bruises littered across his flesh.

The somber, softened stare you’d given him happened to temper his tongue, copper brows beginning to slack, visage contorting into more of a concerned expression. “They do not feel as horrid as they look,” He assured, smoothing his palm across the swell of your hip. “Such is the nature of battle.”

With a tender hand, you lightly traced your fingertips over each bruise, some angered and dark, others lighter in complexion. Gwayne shuddered at your delicate embrace, bluish hues glued to where your hand traveled — over his throat, toward his collarbone, and then cascading across his chest.

“Where does it hurt, my love?” The silky resonance of your voice stroked his mind in a perfect way, one that brought him to heel. Your doting attention happened to subdue him, cock stirring in the confines of his linen breeches.

He often pondered what went on in that beautiful head of yours, the way your mind operated. You were an intelligent woman, thoughtful and poised with a comely grace, becoming of a maiden. Gwayne swallowed the growing lump within his throat, feeling your palm smooth across the plate of his cuisse.

“Here,” He briefly motioned to the series of marks tangled along his collarbone — he was fortunate that it hadn’t been shattered. You stooped inward, mouth carefully hovering above the ugly bruises dotted along his collar, and kissed the injured flesh. “Hm — here.” Gwayne tapped his right pectoral.

You kissed where his hand gestured to, pliant lips akin to a gentle caress as you showered him in your sensual affections. Enraptured, Gwayne watched you, hunger swelling within him, a ravenous gnawing that he felt for you. It burned his loins, filling him with the ache of desire.

If it weren’t for his damned tasses and greaves, he would’ve had you slotted in his lap. Gwayne’s hands tightened around the back of the settee, digits curling into the wooden embellishments. “That’s all?” You murmured, gingerly caressing along his chest, watching as he immediately straightened.

Gwayne grit his teeth together, motioning toward his bruised bicep. “Here,” The soothing softness of your mouth soon followed, filling him with a warm rush of dull ecstasy. You kissed his bicep, peppering your lips upward until they landed atop his shoulder. “Here.” At last, he motioned to his mouth, marred by a cut.

“Here?” With a gentle hum, you smoothed the pad of your thumb against his lower lip, carefully avoiding the cut and any bruising. Gwayne kissed your fingertips, hand still poised against your hip, groping into your pliant curves and soft physique.

“Damnable vixen.” Gwayne muttered, though his cerulean hues oozed with warmth and ardor, a gallant love reserved only for you. It was a loving jab, and he immediately hauled you closer, bringing your mouth to his for a fiery kiss. The honey-sweet embrace of your lips were ambrosial, making his head spin around.

You reached for his auburn tresses, raking your fingers through his mane, kissing him hard and without an ounce of hesitation. His hands lowered themselves to your derrière, sinking into your supple flesh, treating you to the fervor of his hold. A low moan emerged from your throat when he nipped at your lower lip.

Gwayne relented, tongue seeking entrance into the warmth of your mouth, forcing you to part your lips. In a hurried clash, you kissed him again, open-mouthed and deliciously hot. Your stomach began to churn, arousal seeping from your core, slick between your thighs.

“Gwayne,” You whimpered, attempting to catch your breath as he parted from you, licking at his lower lip. “We needn’t carry on if you are hurt.” You insisted, but he scoffed at the notion, gazing at you with bewilderment and a clear dismissal of your concerns.

“Nonsense,” Gwayne countered, clearly feeling his blood sing with lust, bitten by desire. It was a fire that you had so diligently stoked, and now, it needed to be extinguished. “I would suffer through torture unimaginable if it meant I could have you properly.”

With a bemused huff, you pressed your lips against his bruised brow, watching as he stood up, chest bumping into you. The closeness only seemed to intensify, tension crackling between the both of you. “Are you still in-need of assistance?” You hummed, tone indicative of your lascivious wants.

Gwayne’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smirk, catlike and salacious as he released an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose,” Truthfully, he basked in your affections, even if it was all playful, a steady buildup to more lewd proclivities. He allowed you to do it all as you unfastened his cuisses and tasses, placing them aside. “Perhaps I should take you along to the next conflict. I will have need of your skilled hands, sweet wife.”

Seeing your striking husband in nothing more than his linen smallclothes made you itch with ardor, desire beginning to fester within your heart. His necklace, adorned with his mother’s ring and yours, hung around his throat, relics resting against his sternum.

A battle was certainly no place for a lady, but you digressed, lowering one hand toward the slight bulge in the front of Gwayne’s trousers. “Is that so? I’ve become quite proficient, husband.” A silky purr escaped your lips as you kneaded one hand against his erection.

Seven Hells, you would be his undoing.

With a sharp exhale, Gwayne let out a husky groan near the shell of your ear, hands steadfast atop your hips as you caressed him over his clothes. “Quite proficient, indeed.” He uttered, teeth grazing along your neck as you let your hand slither beneath the coarse linen. The warmth of his cock met your palm, and he shivered.

A breathy sigh escaped you as you bared your neck to him, palm encircled around the base as you dragged your hand from bottom to tip. The pad of your thumb stroked along the head of his cock, causing him to jerk forward into your embrace.

He had sorely missed your touch, the smell of your skin, the plush feeling of your body beneath his capable hands. Gods, if you kept touching him like that, he felt as if he would explode — and so quickly, too. Gwayne refused to resign himself to such a thing.

“I would be delighted if you’d join me,” Gwayne murmured into your neck, lips suckling just beside your jugular. The mark he left flourished, soothed by the lap of his tongue. “Only after I’ve ravished your sweet cunt, of course.” Even crude words sounded so pretty upon his tongue, and you felt your skin crawl with warmth.

A sharp inhale escaped you, anticipation churning within the pit of your stomach as Gwayne found the laces of your gown. You nodded several times over, lips parted as you sought his mouth for a blazing kiss. With dextrous fingers, he tugged on the silken ties, loosening the garment with ease.

The fabric pooled around your feet in a heap, and you hastily kicked it aside, standing in nothing more than a sheer slip. It was nearly translucent, made of a shimmering gossamer that left little to the imagination. Transfixed, Gwayne allowed his hands to travel along your body, kneading and caressing wherever he pleased.

He coaxed you toward the settee he’d been situated in minutes prior, allowing you to sit as he stood above you, hand slipping against your thigh. “Gods, you are divine.” Gwayne sighed, roughened fingertips stroking at your silky skin, like warm velvet. “Lift your skirts for me, dearest.”

Kneeling as a sacrilegious individual would, as if begging for forgiveness within the boughs of a sept, Gwayne sought his peace between your thighs. He observed in quiet rapture as you brought your slip to your hips, revealing your body to him.

Broad shoulders bullied their way between your legs, hands more than happy to have their fill of your haunches. “Gwayne,” You whimpered, feeling him adjust your hips to a proper angle, cunny glistening with a thin sheen of your arousal. “Please, I need your mouth!” Hapless at the talons of your husband, you pleaded with him to taste you.

There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to oblige you, lips pressing all along your legs, mouth steadily finding the apex of your thighs. Gwayne took care in spreading you apart, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt, your taste ambrosial.

A stirring fire of lust roused him, cock twitching within his breeches as he delved deeper into your core. His mouth was a thing of beauty, tongue sluggishly tasting you from your clit to your entrance. Your chest heaved with wanton pants, hands gliding toward his tresses.

Tangled within his copper mane, you coaxed him closer, digits digging at the base of his skull. Gwayne released a groan into your core, hands clamping down on your thighs with an ironclad grasp. Your nectar fell heavy upon his tongue, the sweetest of honey.

Gwayne thoroughly reveled in the feeling of your hands within his hair, hips occasionally stuttering and bucking forward, desperately seeking his mouth. He was attentive, lapping at your cunt with a fervor, allowing his mouth to drift to your clit.

Silk bunched up around your belly, thighs quivering like leaves as you continued to move inward. Most of your writhing was done unconsciously, pleasure continuing to wrack your body whole. Arousal pooled between your legs, spilling onto your husband’s tongue — and he consumed every drop.

Gwayne found his place between your thighs, as any devoted husband would. Every sound that he evoked from you, every shudder of your body, the slick of your arousal, he knew that it all belonged to him. Your needy moans filled your chambers, reverberating off of the walls.

“Gods, Gwayne!” You huffed, countenance screwed into a look of complete and utter bliss, lips agape and eyes fluttered shut. Without shame, you rode your husband’s face as best as you could, wrestling with his auburn locks as your knees squeezed at his head.

Perfect — it couldn’t have gotten any better than this.

His calloused palms ran along your thighs before finding their purchase against the swell of your hips, drunk and delirious from your cunt alone. He was positively whipped, a notion that he rarely admitted aloud, let alone shared with himself. The way you took his mouth with glee filled him with pride.

Another deliberate barrage of licks assailed your clit, causing you to shiver and moan, the sounds tapering off into a series of breathy pants. “Sweetling,” Gwayne crooned, timbre shifting into a delicious husk as he called you by that affectionate nickname. “You are incomparable.” He mumbled, nose brushing along the hood of your clit.

A pang of delight rippled through you as you preened beneath his desire-ridden compliment. Gwayne had a way with words, especially if he found himself in the mood to regale you with lewd whispers. The moment wasn’t now, but you hoped that it would be, soon enough.

That familiar coil of tenuous heat festered within the pit of your stomach, signaling the encroachment of your release. Gwayne buried himself into your cunt, spreading you apart, tongue greedily lapping at your core. His cock was desperate to be inside of you, slick with precum, straining against his trousers.

You chased after your release with reckless abandon, a low wine tearing past your lips as you tugged on Gwayne’s tresses with a sense of urgency. His lips found themselves pursed around the pearl of your cunt, suckling on that sensitive bud until you cried out.

It was an undeniable surge of utter bliss, an amalgamation of pleasure that made your thighs twitch and tremble. You threw your head back against the velveteen lounge, moaning your husband’s name as if it were the only word you knew.

Between the deliberate, timed strokes of his tongue and the stimulation of your clit, you could hold out no longer, digits curling inward, stomach sloshing with a molten warmth. “I— Gwayne!” You mewled, the sound deliciously innocuous as you approached your release.

It slammed into you with the force of a tidal wave, sending spasmodic shivers all along your body, making your skin undeniably hot. Gwayne groaned into your cunt, finding great pleasure in cleaning you up, reveling at the taste of your nectar, like a fine stout.

His cock throbbed with a pleading ache, wanting nothing more than to be inside of you. He was patient, but he could wait no longer, face appearing from between your thighs as he huffed. “I cannot continue to wait,” Gwayne murmured, voice laced with desperation. “I must have you, sweet wife.”

Still trapped within the white-hot throes of your release, you nodded, wanting more from him just as he did you. “I am yours completely.” You breathed, watching as he made for the bathtub. The water inside had gone from steaming to warm, not that he cared.

It was like a race, an eager clamoring to see who could get themselves into the basin first. Gwayne hastily unlaced his breeches, leaving them behind along the stone floor before he sank into the water, muscles unfurling almost instantaneously.

You stood, legs quivering from the might of your peak as you attempted to rid yourself of the silken slip, but Gwayne didn’t have time to watch you fiddle with your gown. “In,” With a sharp timbre interwoven with lust, you seemed surprised, but obeyed his command. “Come here.” He hissed.

Without delay, you stepped into the bathtub, still clad in your silken slip, which Gwayne paid little mind to. Eager, strong hands gripped your hips, dragging you closer until you were in his lap. Auburn tresses were slick with water, visage upturned into a look of sheer delight.

The gossamer silk stuck to your body, hitched around your hips, the wet garment clinging to your flesh. Gwayne lowered you enough to let his cock nudge against your folds, burying his face into the hollow of your throat. He pressed strings of needy kisses there, feeling you grind yourself against him.

Tugging at the thin, lace-woven straps of your slip, you revealed your breasts to him, fabric sagging along your midsection. You listened to the audible hitch of Gwayne’s breath, continuing to slide his cock along the length of your slit. “Sit,” He commanded, hands firm atop the swell of your hips. As you lowered yourself onto his length, he shivered, jaw tensing. “That’s it.”

His cock filled you perfectly — nothing of indomitable size or girth, but it was pretty, just like the rest of him. You gasped, palms moving to perch themselves atop his freckled shoulders. Gwayne groaned, slumping back against the slick, metallic wall of the tub, keeping one hand steady against your hip.

What sweet torment, Gwayne thought, tantalized and entranced by the way you began to ride him, sluggishly through the constant sloshing of water. He assisted you somewhat, guiding you along, occasionally lifting his hips to buck into you, but the efforts primarily rested with you.

“Seven Hells,” Gwayne huffed, cerulean hues drinking in the sight of you, disheveled and damp, countenance contorted into a look of pure bliss. “I missed that cunt of yours, wife. There is nothing like it.” A low grunt tapered off into a breathy sigh as you came down harshly, nails digging into his pale flesh.

Instead of cajoling him with sultry praises of your own, you kept quiet, one hand slinking toward the base of his throat. The newfound sensation left Gwayne visibly perplexed, but he enjoyed your little domineering streak, mouth curling into the ghost of a smirk.

His palm moved to cup your breast, toying with your nipple, slick from water, beginning to pebble with the cooler air. “Gwayne,” You moaned, bouncing upon his cock with all of the eagerness of a brothel whore. Enraptured, he observed you through a greedy, half-lidded stare. “You feel incredible.”

Before his cockiness and ego could come swinging into the fray, you lightly squeezed at his throat, evoking a sonorous groan from him. It was effective at silencing him, but his gaze burned for you, burned with something incendiary as he gently tweaked your breast, kneading at the soft mound.

You were divine, a goddess incarnate, made for him to worship at your feet. He simply couldn’t get enough of you, savoring the way in which his cock continued to bury itself within your tight walls, over and over again. That tenuous coil of warmth tightened within his belly, a rush of heat soon to follow.

His hips jolted again, bucking up into you until he hit that perfect spot inside of you. You gasped, mouth agape as your nails dug angry-red crescents into his shoulder. Gwayne’s own sounds of pleasure caressed your ear, feeling him lean in enough to press a string of kisses all over your breasts.

The hold you had upon his throat began to slack, thighs burning with a dull ache as you rocked yourself upon his cock, continuing to ride him. His cock bottomed out before you lifted yourself up again, only to fall right back down, letting him bury himself until he could go no further.

He looked gorgeous, crown of copper tresses lolled back against the tub, visage one of pleasure, hands continuing to grope and caress along your body. It was only when his length began to pulse and throb within you that he grit his teeth, bracing himself for his release.

A low, subtle ‘fuck’ tore past his mouth, goosebumps coalescing along the length of your spine. You didn’t relent, continuing to rock yourself upon his cock until he was bursting at the seams. With a noisy groan, Gwayne’s hips stuttered, filling you with ropes of hot seed.

Even the ache of war and sex could not spend him entirely, and if it were up to him, he would’ve had you on your back the second you stepped out of the tub. With a sigh of relief, he stroked your hip, watching as you came down with him.

“I will never tire of that,” Gwayne confessed, hand repositioning to stroke at your brow, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Will you stay and help bathe your husband?” He inquired, tone jocular and somewhat playful, but he seemed serious.

“Perhaps,” You mused, reaching for a bar of herb-laden soap, attempting to move off of him. Gwayne tutted, clicking his tongue with mild disdain as he pulled you right back down onto his cock. “Gwayne.” Issuing a soft-spoken warning, you gasped, brows furrowing together.

With a debonair smirk, he pressed a kiss against the hollow of your throat, lounging back within the tub, either arm perched along the sides. “You can stay just like that, dearest. You are well within arm’s reach.” That lascivious purr of him stoked yet another fire, and you relented, staying slotted atop him.

“You’re insufferable.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not translate my work onto other platforms, copy, or steal my work and claim it as your own.

[anantaru]

"this," neuvillette says, taking straight aim at the string of your little panties, "needs to go." before tearing til the cloth gives in beneath his rough fingers, sooner than ripping it off your body entirely until it was gone, broken and thrown on the floor.

the mysterious man sinks to this knees against the edge of the bed at last and holds you by your trembling ankles, keeping your legs apart, eyes drawing from left to right over your wet pussy, a gentle smile slowing its way to his lips.

neuvillette finds the shape of you attractive, your breasts and thighs, your lips and neck, how your chest rises and falls whenever he inches closer to your wet core— it's the end of his restraint, the decision that he wouldn't keep himself away from you and it's noteworthy to say that he had glossed over his every lust upon your figure and yet still you had clung to him, despite his attempts to keep you away, you have been there at all times and smiled brightly whenever he engaged in conversation with you— and ultimately whenever your ways parted, he was almost sweetly begging for more, for another five minutes with you alone.

neuvillette hums satisfactory, drawing his first, long finger up the inside of your warm thighs, reaching your wet hole and you arch your back off the mattress when he runs the blunt edge of a fingernail along your entrance, digging deeper, feeling you out.

his head slants forward until you could sense his breathing reach your folds, "how soft." he says, though it feels like he was making a gentle reminder for himself. "do you touch yourself like that?" your eyes shoot open at his sudden, unusual question and you avert your face in shyness, more so a subtle notion of shame as you couldn't bring yourself to answer his question.

"ah." he sighs, muffled, "no matter." quite obvious, he knew the answer, the way you had already been drenched down there, your slick messing up the bed sheets from nothing more than a finger— on top of that, he can feel your shivers and flinches spread through your limbs and into your hot, spongy core, your little hole parting as he pushes steadily, urgently working his finger on you.

you make a throaty cry and moan out, hips thrusting into his fingers, closing your doused eyes when he places a light kiss on your clit, his lips sticking on your flesh by just how wet he has gotten you, continuing to work his digit in gingerly— in and out, in and out, past the first and second knuckle until you're breathing in deep, exhaling sharply through your nose, holding in your cute noises.

you suddenly groan as he presses in you deeper, your hole contracting around nothing when he quickly removes his finger to replace it with his eager tongue instead, tasting you for the first time in this night as a glowing warmth, like an ever-burning flame, flushes over your entire body, your legs weakly resting on his shoulders and trapping him against you.

neuvillette strokes your sopping, wet cunt with the tip of his tongue, throwing his hands up to urgently knead and rub your breasts, greedily handling your nipples before lapping fast and needy stripes on your pussy, your flesh colliding— but he was all in all savoring it, his long pink tongue darting and collecting your slick like it was the finest flavor he had ever memorialized, slowly, taking his precious time, his own deep moans beginning to vibrate into you, and you bite your bottom lip back and cry out his name when you dare to look down.

© 2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝐻𝐼𝒟𝒟𝐸𝒩 𝑀𝐸𝒜𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮

info ⭑ gojo x reader. 1.4 wc. sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ teacher!reader ﾉ both gojo and reader are ~22 ﾉ gojo has taken in megumi + tsumiki

it’s the third time this month that megumi has been the only student left in your classroom. your boss had warned you that this should be something to expect, that his circumstances are special. you truly haven’t had a problem with him sticking around once the school day ended—your only issue is that you’re never certain what days he might be extending his stay or for how long.

it’s the tiniest bit inconvenient, not knowing whether you should bring extra snacks for the boy or if you can agree to plans after work with friends. you’ll never fault megumi for the uncertainties of his schedule, though.

he really is a good kid.

you’re sitting across from him now and he’s got one of the two onigiris you packed for yourself during your after-school grading set on a napkin. his hand reaches out for the last bite of the rice ball before popping the remainder in his mouth. you don’t realize you’ve been staring at the boy until his dark eyes meet yours. in an attempt to avoid any awkwardness, you ask, “how’s your sister?”

“good.” his reply is short, simple—not far off from how he usually acts in class. megumi’s not much of a talker, that much has become clear to you in the few weeks you’ve been his teacher and even more so in these one-on-one moments. it doesn’t bother you and you’ll never push him to hold a conversation he clearly doesn’t want to have.

“anything you want to do while we wait?” he’s finished his snack and you aren’t sure how much longer it’ll be until his guardian, gojo, is here to pick him up. “we could go to the playground if you’d like.”

he shakes his head, leaning down to grab something from his backpack. “that’s okay, i’m fine reading.”

it’s only your first year teaching out of college but you can confidently say that you haven’t met many ten-year-olds who choose to read over playing outside; on a playground all to themselves, at that. the sight of megumi flipping through the pages of his book to pick up where he left off brings a small smile to your face.

your initial thought is that it speaks well of his example at home. although, from the short interactions you’ve been granted with gojo, something tells you that megumi’s interest in reading came from elsewhere.

you’ve had trouble getting a read on the one called gojo satoru, partly because each of your meetings with him last no longer than a couple of minutes, but mostly because he gives off the impression of someone who doesn’t want others looking at him too critically. it’s a little strange, you think, that a man as outgoing as him is just as guarded.

you ponder on the seemingly endless unknowns that surround gojo as you clean up the small snack you shared with megumi. thoughts of him tug at the back of your mind even when you’ve returned to the table with the boy to get some grading done.

the sun’s harsh rays have started to turn a softer golden by the time gojo arrives to take megumi home. he quietly hums a made-up tune as he walks down the path that leads to your classroom. the melody dies in his throat several feet down the hall upon his realization that your door is ajar. virtually undetectable footsteps carry him the rest of the way and he stops just outside your room.

gojo spots you and megumi situated at one of the many tables, a book in megumi’s hand and a pen between your teeth. there’s a slight crease in your brow as you examine the paper on the surface that makes gojo chuckle a bit.

the sound draws your eyes up and to the doorway. there gojo stands, a grin pulling at his lips.

“gojo-san,” you greet him, standing up and wiping the palms of your hands on your thighs.

your words act as an invitation as the man only enters upon hearing them. he waves and offers you a spoken “hello” before placing the same hand on top of megumi’s head. the boy brushes it away nonchalantly and begins to pack up his things.

your gaze is focused on gojo, how he theatrically frowns at megumi’s silent dismissal and how the dark lenses he wears slide down the bridge of his nose, exposing cerulean irises framed by white eyelashes. his attire is different than the uniform he typically dons when you see him at the end of the day, something you’ve noticed holds true every time he shows up late. this time around, he wears a plain white button-up and sandy brown linen pants.

you’ve never questioned it before but the trend has started to make you wonder what exactly he gets up to on these days. although, you don’t think about it too hard. as long as he’s here and megumi makes it home safe, there isn’t much beyond that that you need to know.

“yoo-hoo,” the sing-songy call rings through the air. you reckon that it came from gojo, if his toothy smile is any evidence.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize for spacing out (and for something so trivial, at that) before painting on your practiced smile. “did you say something?”

“i was just asking if megumi here gave you any trouble.” gojo tries, again, to ruffle the boy's hair but a smaller hand is there to knock his away, as if megumi expected the bothersome gesture. 

you hold back a laugh at gojo’s continued efforts being met with even more denial by the fifth grader. “not at all.”

“good.” the white-haired man nods, strands of the silky hair brushing the tops of his glasses. his gaze flits from megumi to you in a split second and even though most of his eyes are hidden, you can feel the intensity his stare holds. “sorry for keeping you so late, i had a bit of extra work to handle today.”

“i don’t mind,” you reassure him with the wave of your hand. “but…”

a thought crosses your mind that leads you to bend down and grab a sheet of paper from the table. you fold the parchment into a square before picking up the pen you had been grading assignments with earlier and scribbling something on the page. gojo and megumi watch quietly as you do so and wear similar expressions of confusion when you hold the paper out to the former.

gojo takes it without hesitation and angles his hand so that he can read what you’ve written. it looks like your phone number and name followed by a wonky smiley face. his eyes widen ever-so-slightly before he looks over his glasses at you. “what’s this for?”

“oh!” you seem to have forgotten to tell him the intent behind sharing your number. you can feel your cheeks heat up as you explain. “just so you can text me in advance if you know you’ll be running behind.”

for a short moment, gojo had interpreted it as something different, though, he opens his mouth in the shape of an understanding “ah” at your clarification while stuffing the square in his pocket. he doubts he’ll ever have the time to actually do so but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “got it, will do.”

your lips curl up in a tight smile as you silently berate yourself for coming off as unprofessional.

“we’ll be out of your hair, then.” gojo’s voice breaks through the thick silence between you. you simply nod in acknowledgement.  “thanks for staying late with megumi.”

the dark-haired boy politely parrots his thank you.

“you’re welcome. see you both tomorrow.”

on their walk home, megumi glances to his side at the man towering over him. he’s pulled out the piece of paper you gave him and is happily saving your number in his phone. megumi may be young, but he’s nothing if not attentive.

“why do you keep stopping at home to change?” he asks gojo.

clear blue eyes stay glued to the device in his hand. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

megumi scoffs. “you put on cologne, too.”

“i always smell this good,” gojo argues, finally stuffing the things and his hands in his pockets. he looks down at megumi, wearing the smile the boy finds annoying. 

something about it feels like confirmation to his suspicions.

“are you trying to impress my teacher or something?”

the fall of gojo’s smile is all megumi needs to know that he’s right.

lithe fingers reach down to pinch the boy’s cheek. “shut it, kid.”

sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[murdrdocs]

after those photos i keep thinking about beach sex with luke 😔 the hot send on ur back while he eats u out to the sounds of the ocean

this is loba btw + side blogs kinda suck

eating from the back; public (?) sex; mentions of luke's big ass nose MDNI 18+ gasped when i got this btw w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

it's like a scene out of a movie.

the sun dipping below the horizon in front of you. the waves crashing against the shore, reaching closer and closer towards your outstretched hand with each cascade as the tide grows. the smell of sunscreen and saltwater sticking to you just like the sand stuck between your toes.

there's so much happening, so many sensations surrounding you, attempting to draw your attention away from the pleasure filling up your body. if anyone other than luke were between your legs, maybe you would be focused on something else. maybe you would focus on the hermit crab searching for a new shell just off to your left. or the breeze blowing up the corner of your beach towel.

but since luke is the one pleasuring you, you can't focus on anything else. he has your complete attention, even if you can't see him.

with your ass perched in the air, your bikini pushed to the side in luke's haste, leaving you just exposed enough for his eyes and his eyes only. you're alone on this beach, both of you know it, but you always tell luke "just in case" and he always does what you say.

likely, because it gets him this: your hands digging into the sand as he buries his head into your cunt, his big nose reaching towards your entrance when he dips his mouth down to focus on sucking your clit.

he bought you out here for an impromptu date, that was his reasoning to chris. but the way luke slung his arm around your waist was a clear indicator of why he was really dragging you out here in the middle of the day. it's so he could have alone time with you.

so he could put you on all fours and fuck you until your cheeks clapped and he finished on your back. so he could keep you in that position, pull your ass towards him, and eat you out with the orange glow of the sun setting painted directly in front of your eyes.

it's all you can see when luke gains more vigor. he's been uncharacteristically quiet from behind you, and just as soon as you think about it, he opens his mouth.

it's not like you're upset with him, though, even if he's taking away the one thing you want from him to talk to you. but his words, combined with the sound of his voice, is enough to keep you pushed towards the edge.

"taste so good, angel. so, so fucking pretty, too. you feel good? yeah? 'm making you feel good? can't get enough of you like this," he smacks your ass then, watching the cheek ripple before stopping the motion by gripping your flesh in his hands once more. he spreads you open again, and when the warmth of his face disappears for a second, you wonder what he's doing.

until you feel a warm glob of saliva fall onto your puckered hole and dribble down towards your entrance. if it even needs any help at all, luke sacrifices his grip to guide his spit towards your cunt, where he gently pushes a single finger into you, and then drags it out to smear the rest of his saliva along the rest of you.

and then, he's back on you, twice as messy as before if even possible.

since you two got down here, luke was messy. he stayed off of you long enough to hide his true intentions, wading in the shallow end of the water with you until you both started to prune and his curls became soaked with salt water, and then he was on you. kissing you sloppily, coaxing you back onto the beach towel, not even letting your bikini begin to dry before he was peeling the bottoms to the side and slipping the top down.

your first orgasms ended with your arousal coating your cunt and luke's cum spurted on your lower back, and this orgasm ends with your cum on the lower half of luke's face.

he's completely undeterred by it (just like you were with his cum). when he flips you around, his lips kiss from the top of your cunt—right above your clit where you thought you would be tired of having him but your body proved you wrong—all the way up to your lips. and even after he kisses you like he has something to prove, when you separate, his face still shines in the orange light.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part ten —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter kicked my butt. thanks for the patience~

An ear-splitting gunshot bites the ground near your boot, close enough to feel the heat simmer through the worn leather. It takes everything in you not to freeze in terror. You grab Blue and run. 

Adrenaline kicks into high gear once again, but with her dead weight and your lack of strength, you know you can't get far. You manage to tumble behind a stack of rusted bins just as another round fires. 

Blue clings to you. "He's following us!"

Your heart sinks as your fingers reach for your bow— you left it.

"Give me your gun," you sputter quickly.

She shoves the unfamiliar weapon in your hands. A tremble consumes your body as you peek over the barrel to find your target. For a second, you see your attacker as he passes by one of the jeeps. A young man no older than yourself. 

Without hesitation, you close an eye and go for his heart, but the bullet grazes the top of his shoulder with a spray of blood. Used to a bow, you aimed too high.

He barks out a swear and then lifts his rifle in retaliation. Before he can shoot, a Grey bursts through the window of the jeep, clamping down on his neck. His throat turns to gore. The gun falls from his grip as screams of pain quickly turn to muffled groans.

Relief and horror pound through your veins. That was close. Too close. You have to get Blue out of here. But how—

There is no chance to decide. Suddenly, she screams again. You whip around to meet the slash of a long knife and the flush of cold air as your coat is torn. Someone has snuck up behind you. You fumble with the gun but the attacker knocks it out of your hand, then fists your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. It happens so fast. You can't even get a good look at him— only the wild stare of his eyes and the strength of his stature. Whoever these people are, they are certainly better fed than that man in the woods.

You thrash against him, hurling saliva at his face. Apparently, he didn't expect that because he hisses, "Fuck."

You use the distraction to grab your own knife, the only weapon on you, and blindly drive it into the taut muscle of his thigh. He howls, letting go of your hair, and you slip away just enough to dodge the next swipe of his blade.

The fight is short-lived. You've grown stronger, but not enough to fight a man. He is skilled and bulky. Your attempts to hit him are futile. His knife catches you in the forehead, sending a curtain of blood down your face, and he grabs hold of your hair once again.

"Gonna cut your throat first," he murmurs, low and gravelly. "Then your little lamb's."

He will kill you. Then her. You can't let him. You won't. Something animalistic takes hold of you. You do the only thing left you can think of— bite. Hard. The sickening taste of human flesh and hot blood fills your mouth as you rip out a chunk of his nose.

"You bitch!" 

He clutches his oozing face. Blue shouts at you, her finger jutting toward something— the Grey. Done with its first meal, it draws toward the scent of fresh blood. Before your attacker can recover, you throw all your weight at him, which isn't much, but it is enough to make him lose his footing and veer into the Grey's path. It grabs hold and sinks another bite into his face.

Suddenly, two more gunshots ring out. One to the Grey's head, and the other through the man's eye. Both bodies flop dead to the ground. Before you can panic, a wild-eyed Ghost returns in long strides. 

"Blue!" he bellows. 

"Dad!" she yells back.

He heads straight for her, quickly dipping down to check her bandaged leg and search for any other wounds. Fear has forced her eyes to stay open, her body stiff and alert. There is a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans. 

"They tried to kill us," she cries.

“I'm here, baby. I won't leave you again.”

You wipe the blood off your face and glance around, panting so hard your lungs hurt. The air reeks of carnage and gunpowder, but the firing has ceased. 

"They attacked us," you speak in a raw shout. “Two of them. Did you— Are the rest gone?"

He nods. "Could be more nearby. Let's get out of here before we find out."

He slings the rifle over his shoulder and scoops up Blue without an ounce of the effort it took for you to do so. 

He moves fast. Retrieving your bow, you push hard to keep up with him. 

Twilight tints the sky purple. You make it past the fence and zig-zag through the medical tents when movement catches your eye again.

"Ghost, to the right!" you scream.

You knock an arrow onto the string, aiming for the distant figure. But the movement multiplies, more shadows lurking towards you with uneven gaits. Not people. Greys. The realization forms a pit in your stomach.

"They can fucking smell us," you choke out. 

"Hit the faster ones!"

Arrow after arrow, you aim for the ones that move with the stamina of a more recently infected. To your right. To your left. Ghost carries Blue with one arm and shoots with his handgun. More and more crawl out like cockroaches, no doubt catching a whiff of the blood that stains all three of you. 

Two built like linebackers run wildly up to Ghost from either direction. He shoots one, while the other grabs him by the shoulder. You launch an arrow at its skull, your aim more precise now that you're not shooting bullets, and it lets go of him with a squeal. 

When the trees grow thicker, it becomes harder to see them. Despair pushes a cry up your throat when you slap a hand back to your quiver and feel two arrows left. 

A slippery mix of mud and leaves suddenly takes you down to the ground, your knees landing on a hard tree root. You swear under your breath, fumbling to get back up, when a Grey you hadn't noticed behind you lunges on top, slamming you back down. Pain shoots through your ribs as you frantically roll around, thrusting a forearm against its throat to avoid its opened mouth and kicking your knees into its chest. Then, a fiery bullet lodges into its forehead, the Grey going limp on top of you with a splatter of brains and coagulated fluid. 

"Get up, Twix!" Ghost barks. 

You shove the body off and scramble to your feet, legs feeling like jelly, but you force them to keep running. 

You whip a brief look behind you. 

"There's too many— I'm almost out of arrows!" 

"The river," Ghost throws over his shoulder. "Those fucks can't swim."

You realize his idea when the roar of water greets your ears. Ghost doesn't hesitate to sprint onto the rusty rebar, slipping his gun away to hold Blue with both arms. 

You follow behind, forcing your eyes on the bank ahead as you slow down to keep balance. All you have to do is get across and the river will take care of the rest. Heartbeats pound in your skull, each step requiring an unfathomable amount of focus that you struggle to muster. You're about halfway there when you hear the splash of Greys falling in, and a brief glance below causes your footing to falter. 

This time you fail to grab the beam.

Cold water envelops you like a million needles.

A mouthful of water burns down your throat, and for a moment, you can't move. Can't breathe. Everything spins around you. It's not until your feet collide with something hard - the bottom of the riverbed - that your brain registers what's happening and you kick out to propel yourself up. 

You break the surface for a gulp of air before the current pulls your head back under. Your arms flail around in search of something to grab. Just when you latch onto what feels like a log, a hand seizes your ankle with a hungered screech. You slam your foot back, over and over, more water filling your mouth as you struggle to kick the Grey and hold on at the same time.

Finally, the rotten skull caves in and the current sucks it away. With your leg freed, you haul yourself up the log toward the edge of the river. You begin climbing up the cliffside, using the twisted roots as footholds, your hands digging into caked soil. You're almost to the top, but you feel numb and weak. So weak. You can't find anything else to grab. The wet sole of your boot begins to slip.

"Grab on!"

A gloved hand stretches down. Ghost is crouched above, Blue now on his back so can he lean over. You grip his hand and he pulls you up, until you collapse on the ground, wet and shivering. 

You cough up water and bile. 

"Bloody fucking hell.” 

It's been a while since you've thought about dying. You've made it this far, instinct always taking the reins and pushing you onward. But now, as the reality of the cold, wet clothes clinging to you sets in, you consider asking Ghost to just shoot you. It would be quicker than freezing to death, and a much better fate than drowning or turning Grey. At least you know Blue will be safe now.

Before you can form the words, you hear the shuffling of fabric. A jacket, a beanie. Set on the ground beside you.

"Take off your clothes. Put these on."

The rest turns into a dream. You don't remember putting the clothes on, or standing up and moving your heavy limbs. You don't remember getting to the hunter's cabin, but the next thing you know, you are curled up on the floorboards beside a small fire, inhaling the musky smell of Ghost's oversized jacket, with the blanket you brought tucked around your bare legs. You don't feel cold anymore. Your head pounds. You can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, slow but present. Behind you somewhere, Ghost tends to Blue. You know this because you hear him whisper to her as her sobs are muffled by biting onto a shirt. Amelia, Amelia, he says to her. A name you've never heard before. He must be cleaning the wound, the pain of it causing her to thrash and kick. Then, the sounds fade, and you know she is asleep. 

When your eyes finally tear away from the flames, you spot Ghost hunched over, lifting up his shirt. Dark blood and ink stain pale skin. 

"You were shot?" 

His eyes snap up. He regards you for a moment, and it is now you notice that most of the white of his mask has been stained with red from his kills. 

"Knife," he says.

You don't know why you offer, or why he silently accepts. Somehow you end up knelt beside him, your cracked fingertips cleaning the puncture wound in his torso without a single word exchanged. It's not deep enough to need stitches. You clear the blood and dab on antiseptic. The only sign he feels any pain is the flex of corded muscles beneath your touch and the occasional sharp inhale through the mask. His skin is oddly warm, a temperature that does some to ease the tension in your muscles.

When you're done, you roll the shirt back down. He doesn't say thank you, not that you expected him to. 

You break the silence with a voice that barely hovers above a whisper. "You could've let me freeze."

His brows lower. "You could've let them kill her."

"I would never do that." When he doesn't respond, you glance at her sleeping form. "She's okay?"

"Just a graze," he confirms.

"She lost quite a bit of blood. She might need a few days to rest."

Your gaze shifts back to his. You quietly add, "Did you recognize them? Were they a part of the military?" 

"Maybe. Their gear was. Didn't know them, though."

"Why did they try to kill us?"

He gives you a look. Of course. He tried to kill you for the same reason once.

"They have a camp nearby," you murmur the answer, more to yourself than to him. "Something to protect."

He gives a slow nod, then moves to grab his rifle and a hoodie to slip on in place of the thick SAS jacket he lent you. As he moves to the door, you realize what he plans to do. Keep watch.

You slip the beanie off and run your fingers over the cut on your brow when he says something just before leaving.

"For someone who once asked me to kill them, you fight hard to survive, Twix."

You don't know what to say. Just hours ago, you almost asked him to kill you again.

There's a beat of silence and then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you fight so hard."

A breath sticks in your throat, and you stare at the floor. You're not sure why he is asking this, or why the answer is so hard to give.

"I... I don't know."

With that, he leaves. You watch the fire turn to dark embers. The faded adrenaline has left you with a fatigue you have grown familiar with. If you weren't so tired, maybe you would still be scared, your mind filled with fresh memories of gore and death and screaming. But you fall asleep quickly, scooting beside Blue and sinking into the warmth of his jacket. 

[leaentries]

let them eat cake | nico hischier

SUMMARY: when mrs.cap learns that cake can serve more than one purpose

WARNINGS: food play, slight boob worship, slight nipple play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, swearing, not proofread

WC: 2.97k

A/N: guess who’s back from the dead ! i hope you will take this nico fic as a form of apology for my lack of content recently !

the captain’s girl masterlist!

The familiar blaring of an alarm broke through the warm, golden atmosphere of the bedroom. Sunlight bounced amongst the beige walls, as the air slightly blew against them. Realizing Nico must have left the balcony door open, you managed to peel an eye open to gaze at the sleeping man beside you. 

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths, signaling he was still locked in his restful slumber. You took a moment to admire the youthful lines of his shaven face, taking note of every mark he had. The straight swoop of his nose, or the curve of his eyebrows; you swore to commit them to memory. Your eyes trailed down to his neck, where his chain dangled loosely to the side. A sweet smile found home on your lips as you watched his nose scrunch slightly in his sleep. 

However, your morning bliss was interrupted by Nico’s phone, which, once again, began to scream with that god-forsaken alarm. 

Very carefully, you lifted your body onto your left arm, maneuvering yourself to grab his phone and hit the “stop” button. As it would be, you didn’t quite make it that far before collapsing halfway onto the sleeping boy.

Nico’s body jolted at the sudden weight, hands immediately going to hold your hip and the arm that now lay limp across his chest. 

“Jesus, schatzi,” His voice rumbled with sleep, “What are you doing?” 

You sheepishly grinned at him, “‘M sorry, Neeks. I was trying to turn off your alarm so it wouldn’t make you cranky this morning.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Cranky? I’m never cranky in the mornings. I think you’ve got me confused with someone else, baby.” 

“Ah, so you're not the guy who almost chucks his phone at the wall every morning because his alarm is so obnoxiously loud?” 

Nico gave you a deadpan look. 

You shrugged at him, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Yeah, yeah” He quickly flipped you over, his heavy body now pressing into yours, “I’d be careful with what you say.” 

His lips placed slow, hot kisses down your jaw, only stopping once he met your earlobe. He bit lightly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. 

Nico’s voice came out in a rough whisper, “After all, I’m very cranky in the mornings.” 

Nico removed himself from you, taking away the warmth of his thick muscle. Making his way to the bathroom, he gave you a quick wink and a smug smile. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to control the ache that now resided in your core. 

“You suck, Hischier!” 

Well, happy birthday to you.

  -

While Nico took his time in the shower getting ready for the day, you took it upon yourself to start making a big breakfast for the two of you. 

Although it was your birthday, you still wanted to do something sweet for the both of you to enjoy. You had been looking forward to sharing an intimate meal with him first thing in the morning. Yet, if you were being honest, you never cared to make a fuss over your birthday. 

It just never occurred to you to care so much. 

As you scraped the last bits of your breakfast out of the pan, you heard Nico’s heavy steps approaching the kitchen. 

“Mmmm,” He sniffed the air with a dog-like fervor, “Something smells good.” 

You nodded towards the two plates, that now sat full, on the island top. “I made us a big breakfast this morning. I thought it would be nice to spend some time together today. Especially since you’ve been busy with all the away games the past few weeks.” 

Nico walked up behind you, hands circling your full waist with a squeeze. 

“That sounds perfect, schatzi.” 

Grabbing your hand, Nico helped you make your way into the high-top seat, carefully pushing you in before finding his way next to you. He gave you a quick peck, reaching to pull your legs to drape across his lap. 

Your stomach argued with hunger, prompting you to finally satisfy your morning needs. You closed your eyes in bliss at the warm taste of your favorite breakfast. Ever since you were a child, you had this same meal every year. Yet, it never failed to bring back the same excitement and nostalgia as it did when you were little.

“Fuck,” Nico mumbled under his breath, “Don’t make that face, baby. It’s too early for me to be hard.” 

You fluttered your eyes innocently, “I don’t know what you're talking about.” 

However, you most certainly did. And the evidence was currently pressing into your calf. 

A low groan escaped his mouth as you dragged your legs slowly from his lap. Grabbing the empty plates, you made a show of your hips in the short walk to the sink. Carefully placing them in the metal confinement, rough hands came to pull you back. 

“Oh!” A squeal echoed into the kitchen as Nico walked your body back to the counter. His large fingers gripped your wrists, pinning them to the cabinet above you. Nico’s face dangled teasingly too far for your aching lips. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, schatzi.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, “Swaying that pretty ass in my face.”

Nico shook his head in disapproval, “‘S not fair to me, baby.” His deep eyes only seemed to grow bigger, “Why are you being mean to me?”

You furrowed your brows in a pout, “‘M not being mean.”

“Oh yeah, you are.” He moved one of your hands back down to cup his heavy length straining against the fabric of his sweats. “Think just because you’re the birthday girl, you get to be a brat? Is that it?”

You huffed in annoyance. You should have known Nico wouldn’t give in to you so easily, even if it was your special day. Deciding to continue your ploy, you gave him your best puppy eyes, “No, Neeks.” You bit your lip, “I just want my favorite birthday present.”

Nico didn’t miss the way your eyes scanned his body, your orbs lingering on his throbbing erection. He could feel his resolve faltering at your sultry gaze, his body naturally leaning in to press against yours.

Although, just as Nico’s lips were about to finally slot on your awaiting ones, his phone blared loudly for the umpteenth time that morning. Nico’s forehead dropped to your shoulder in defeat.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He mumbled, “Gotta go to morning skate.”

Even though you knew he had to leave, you couldn’t help but feel slightly dejected. You nodded understandably, acknowledging his predicament.

Nico picked his head up, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, “I promise, I’ll make it up to you when I get back, birthday girl.”

-

As soon as Nico had left and the remnants from breakfast had been cleaned up, you easily found yourself falling into a peaceful nap on the couch. Yet, as quickly as your eyes shut, they opened again at the feeling of warm lips trailing your shoulder. 

“Wake up, schatzi,” Nico’s warm voice soothed your sleepy mind, “I brought you something.” 

Intrigued, you lifted your head to meet his gaze. 

‘Wha’dya bring?”

Nico’s mouth quirked up, “Come with me to the kitchen and find out.” 

Giving in to the curiosity, you rose from the couch and followed your boyfriend into the homey room. You felt your breath stop for a moment at the lopsided cake that now sat center on your island. It wasn’t the prettiest or the most shapely, but you didn’t care. With the icing slightly running down the sides and the half-cut strawberries, it was perfect. 

“You made me a cake?” 

Nico shuffled bashfully, “Yeah, I tried to, at least. I-I know it’s not the best, but-” You cut him off before he could finish. 

“It’s perfect, Neeks.” You looked at him with sparkling eyes, “Thank you.” 

“Anything for my birthday girl.” 

You turned back to admire the pink cake once more. Nico’s warm body came to lean against your back, his arms wrapping around to cage you in. You watched as his right hand moved to swipe some of the fluffy icing from the side onto his finger. 

“Open up, baby.” 

You obliged gratefully, taking in his sugar-covered digit. You swirled your tongue to gather as much of the sweetness as possible, sucking lightly. 

“Fuck..” Nico’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper. 

You could feel his hardening length pressed snuggly against your cheeks, taking the opportunity to tease him a bit. Jutting your hips backward, Nico groaned at the pressure. He pulled his finger from your mouth, a trail of saliva still attached. His hand moved to grasp onto your heavy breast through the material of your t-shirt.

Nico’s fingers danced across your peaked nipple, before quickly turning your body in place. He swiped another bit of the icing, letting your mouth eagerly accept his offer. His eyes grew with dark lust at the sight. Nico’s cock twitched with desire at the feeling of your tongue. 

He removed his finger suddenly, drawing a whine from your lips. However, you were quickly cut off by Nico grabbing your thighs to hoist you onto the countertop. The cool sensation of the marble ignites goosebumps all over your skin. His mouth immediately found your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down the supple skin. His hands toyed with the hem of your t-shirt, before managing to discard it completely. 

“Look at these, baby” His eyes were glued to your breasts, “Been thinking about my girls all day. Always sit so pretty for me.” 

His fingers were cold as they grazed over your bare nipples. Nico didn’t waste any time as he lowered his mouth to take one into his mouth. You bit your lip to suppress a squeal. His teeth bit the pebbled bud lightly, sending shocks of pleasure to your core. You leaned your head back as a whine echoed into the kitchen. 

“Mmm, fuck,” You panted with arousal, “Missed this so much.” 

Nico raised a brow, “Yeah?” He mumbled as he took in the other nipple, “Missed me sucking on these gorgeous tits?” 

His accent grew thicker as the pure need for you flooded his senses. Your body felt like it was on fire with each lick and suck Nico gave to your swollen breasts. You could have sworn you’d cum from just that alone. 

Nico pulled up, his own chest heaving with desire while he ripped off his shirt. As if a lightbulb went off in his mind, his lips grew into a wicked grin. He gripped the backs of your legs, yanking you forward on the counter. You sucked in a breath, undeniably hot and bothered by his manhandling. Nico kept his hand on your leg, while he reached to pull the platter of cake closer to the both of you. 

You watched him quizzically as he, once again, dipped his first two fingers into the icing. Nico looked back at you, smirking at your questioning face. He answered with a sly wink, before smearing the icing down the length of your chest and abdomen.

“Nico!” You exclaimed with a laugh, “What the hell?” 

“It’s okay, schatzi. I’ll clean you up.” He gave you another smirk, before bending down to trail his tongue along the stripe of frosting. “Always taste so sweet.”

 He took his time, making sure not a single bit of the sticky substance was left. The air ran cool against your skin as Nico’s tongue traveled further down your body. You found yourself panting with arousal. He pushed your shoulder slightly as he signaled you to lay back. 

You gasped, back arching against the cold countertop. He took the time while you adjusted to the temperature to rub some more icing along the insides of your thighs. Your legs parted subconsciously, letting Nico slot his body in between them. 

A whimper escaped into the air as you felt his warm muscle flex against the plush fat of your thigh. He ran his tounge teasingly closer to your throbbing core, but only to trail it back down. Your chest heaved with anticipation, the tension overbearing, and raising a sheen layer of sweat over your skin as he continued his mistrations around where you needed him most. 

Determined to have you begging, Nico pulled away completely. Watching your flushed breasts rise and fall at the pace of your rapid breathing. He had to suppress a groan at the sight of your perked nipples still covered in his spit. His eyes met yours as you looked at him desperately. 

“Nico,” You whined, “Why’d you stop?” 

He smirked at you, “I want you to beg for it, schatzi.” 

A fire lit inside of your stomach at the authority in his tone, yet you couldn’t help the bubble of stubbornness that arose with it. 

“Why should I?” You inquired, propping yourself up onto your elbows, “I mean, it is my birthday. Don’t I deserve a present?” 

Nico almost smiled at your rebuttal, but he also needed to make sure you knew who was in charge. He leaned forward, his rigid abdomen pressing into your soft one. His mouth latched onto your nipples one more, this time sucking harshly. 

You cried out through the mixture of pain and pleasure, your slick practically dripping onto the counter by now. Your hands moved to grip his shoulder roughly, your nails leaving angry red marks in response. Nico only pulled away once he heard your needy cries and felt the way your hips bucked up into him. 

“Ready to stop being a brat?” 

Normally, you’d put up more of a fight, but with Nico’s relentless teasing all day, the thrumming need that pounded through every vein in your body had you complying with his wants. 

“Yes,” You breathed, “Please, Neeks.” Your body began to squirm as he dragged his clothed cock along the wetness pooling from your cunt, “Fuck, please do something.” 

His head tilted at you, hips still moving torturously slow, “But I am doing something, baby.” 

Your head fell haphazardly against the cool marble, an exasperated sigh leaving your throat. It was agonizing what he was doing to you, and he knew it. 

All you heard was a low chuckle before you felt Nico’s body lower and the sound of his knees thumping down against the hardwoods. Your eyes fluttered closed as Nico’s lips began to leave light kisses closer and closer to your clit. 

Nico’s right arm moved across your leg to gather some more icing before prodding at your closed mouth. Right as you opened to accept his fingers, Nico plunged his tongue deep into your soaked hole. 

Your body convulsed at the sensory overload. You felt your eyes roll back as the sweet strawberry cascaded over your taste buds and the surging pleasure Nico provided pulsed through your core. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, determined not to leave a single bit of the treat left.

Nico’s fingers fell from your mouth as you moaned almost pornographically at the intense sensation of him lapping at your velvet walls. His nose nudged against your clit with every pass he made, causing the onset of your orgasm to show its head. Your hands tangled themselves into his thick hair, tugging in an attempt to ground yourself further onto his face. 

Nico moaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves up every limb. Your body felt as if it was floating, tingling with the utmost euphoric sensations. That familiar burning only increased as Nico replaced his tongue with two fingers. He plunged them brutally, not bothering to start slow. 

“Fuck!” You cried as your back arched off the counter. 

Nico’s mouth sucked skillfully on your clit, drawing fast circles. You could feel your climax approaching impossibly fast, your cunt beginning to spasm around your boyfriend’s fingers. 

“Close already, schatzi?” He mumbled against you.

You nodded helplessly, overwhelmed by the searing pleasure in your lower stomach. You could feel the blood pounding in your ears as you were hit with one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had. Your hips bucked against Nico as he continued his abuse through the duration of your high. 

Your mind felt like it was spinning, the weight of your climax taking the breath from your lungs. Your vision went white as your eyes clenched shut. Nico’s finger slowed to a stop, his mouth now leaving gentle kisses to the side of your knee where he rested his head. Your jaw fell slightly, lungs burning from the lack of air. 

All you could feel was Nico carefully removing his fingers, and the weight of his body moving to now stand. His warm hands caressed your hips soothingly, coaxing you back to reality. 

“Come back to me, pretty girl.” 

You eventually managed to peel open your lids, eyes clouded with dreariness. 

“There’s those pretty eyes,” Nico smiled lovingly at your fucked out state, “Let’s go take a quick shower. You’re all sticky from the icing.”

A laugh bubbled up, “Yeah?” You started at him accusingly, “And whose fault is that?” 

Nico just rolled his eyes at your attitude, helping you off the counter and into the bathroom. 

Once you were situated under the scolding water, Nico slid in behind you, arms wrapping around to pull you into his front. 

“Today is my favorite day of the year,” Nico stated.

You lifted your head from his chest, looking at him questioningly, “Why?” 

“Because it’s the day you were born.” 

You felt your cheeks go red, a bashful smile turning up on your lips. You shoved your face back into his toned chest, hiding away from his gaze. 

“Neeks,” You whined with embarrassment. 

Nico just laughed, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “Happy birthday, schatzi.” 

[fanaticsnail]

Shameless 3/3

Masterlist here. Part 1, Part 2

Word Count: 5,500+

Synopsis: You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. Ushered throughout the halls of the Polar Tang, you finally get to experience the raw, concentrated power of what succumbing to that type truly means.

Themes: Eustass Kid x afab!reader, p in v sex, eating, gushing, writhing, begging. Dom!kid x switch!reader, no gendered terms used, smut, nsfw, mdni, 18+ content warning, swearing, creampie, Platonic!Law x Crew!reader, "sunshine" used as a term of endearment, reader is a brat, Kid is obsessed.

Notes: And it's here! Third and final part to the series that was meant to be a one-shot because it was my first time writing for Eustass Kid. Thank you to @sordidmusings for being a saint and listening to me be very unhinged while I talk about this fic. Art link.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff @sexc-snail

The grip of Eustass Kid’s right hand never left your hip. Ushering you throughout the halls of the Polar Tang to where he assumed your crew quarters were located. His face held an unreadable emotion you attempted to decipher with your mischievous gaze. 

His lips were knit into a thin line, tugging at the corners into a gruff grimace. His brows lowering their furrow against his forehead with his eyes wild with narrowed pupils. The smaller quiver in his top lip revealed his snarled emotion further to you, a soft rumble igniting within his chest. 

Cheeks tinted pink with ignited resolve and passion, he was glowing with growing vibrant frustration. Too proud to indicate he may be in need of assistance to find your room, you chose to bite your lip to stifle the rise of your smile further as you watched him fumble down the hallway. 

All that giddiness and prior longing for one another, all the passion and grinding against each other’s most sensitive areas, came to an abrupt halt by your captain by calling to you over the shipwide speakers. That lust for one another remained all through the commemorative meal, Kid perpetually holding his eyes on your body as he sunk his teeth into fresh meat. He tore his teeth into the flesh of the steak, all the while picturing what your body tasted like beneath your boiler's uniform. 

Noticing a small stagger in Kid’s steps, halting his strides as the corridor split into a narrow ‘T’ shape. Drawing your eyes up to the metal panel in front of you, you felt the grip of Kid’s arm tighten around your waist. 

You didn’t want to ask him if he needed help, refusing to utter a single word to the broody, aggressive man beside you. In fact, it was fun to watch him get angrier and angrier within his own frustration. You deduced: the angrier he got, the more likely he was going to channel that fury with reaching your joint ecstasy within the arms of one another. 

“You’re really gonna stand there in silence?” he growled in a low rumble, “Not gonna give me any guidance in finding your damn crew cot to fuck you in?” You attempted to stifle your rising smile by clamping your teeth down on your lower lip. 

“Nope,” you popped your lips on the ‘p,’ noticing this seemed to aggravate him further. In one swift movement: he lifted you up with his flesh hand, caging you beneath the metallic forearm of his artificial limb across your chest. He held your body firmly against the steel of the cool wall, bringing his agitated expression closer to your amused grin. 

“Just wanna see me get all frustrated, huh?” he spat, his aggressive agitation showcased within the vibrant hues of his auburn eyes, “Wanna see how far you can bend me before I snap?” 

All you could do was shudder out a whimper of lustful breath beneath the cool metal arm, a smirk drawing up to your lips as you avoided his intense stare by looking down at his exposed pectorals.

In response, he pushed his metal forearm firmer against your chest, the magnetic object caging your shoulders against the wall alongside the top of your breastbone. The discomfort you felt beneath his artificial limb elevated your anticipation and excitement for him more. 

“Answer me,” he growled, shoving you further against the wall, “You had so many words earlier. Where are they now, huh?” You drew your eyes up to his, half-lidded and full of adoration for the frustrated tinkerer-captain. As your softened eyes met with his, he was flabbergasted at your unwithheld adoration for him. 

“You don’t seem like the type to require help,” you whispered, drawing up your hand do brush your fingers against his jaw, “So I won’t help you...” you pressed your chest against his metal arm to test its strength and hissed out a further declaration, “...Unless you ask me, very nicely, to offer you my assistance.”

Kid bore his eyes into yours, his brow furrowing deeper on his forehead as you looked up through half-hooded lashes. Floating your eyes between his, you goaded him with your playful expression: daring him to ask you for aid. After several moments of careful contemplation, he finally spat out his venomous words. 

“Fine,” his eyes darkened, a furious twinkle engaged within his blown pupils. Where you expected him to cave, ask you begrudgingly which direction to be led in, he shocked you by his flesh hand reaching up to your chest, and prying open your boiler suit with a skillful tear in the front of the fabric, “You leave me with no choice but to fuck you in the hallway.” 

You squealed as he skillfully removed your sleeves from your arms with his right hand, forcing his hips to staple yours against the reflective surface behind you. His broad hand drew itself up to cup your left hip, grinding his half-hard cock against your needy core. You sighed blissfully as he began to rut against your body, your eyes fluttering shut against the feeling. 

He tore through the fabric of your top binding, exposing your chest and puckered nipples publicly in a single swipe. You mewled as he pinched, licked and sucked at your exposed chest; your body wriggling and grinding against his core. 

“You truly have no shame, do you?” He growled, his lips finding your jaw as he pressed himself harder against you. You relished in the feeling of his warm lips caressing your skin in open kisses, his saliva dampening your pores with each messy parting of his lips upon you. 

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered through your unrestrained moan in response, opening your eyes to gaze into his own once more. When his eyes met yours, his lust was demonstrated in the soft flutter of his lashes, his pupils dilated into large circles and his painted lips parted in a shocked oval. 

You rocked your hips against his, the tight peak in his patterned pants raking over your rapidly dampening heat. He tore away more of your uniform, revealing more glimpses of your exposed flesh to his needy hands and greedy eyes. As you began to move your lips to expel your desires, a voice called above your expressions of wanton need. 

“Well, I'm ashamed of both of you,” your Captain’s bored and lazy tone spat with a soft grimace, “Couldn't even wait to get into crew quarters, Tinkerers?”

A joint shriek of shock expelled itself from your throats as your eyes snapped over to the darkened silhouette of Trafalgar Law. 

Your captain excused himself from the meal between the main course and dessert, claiming the excuse he needed to retrieve something from his office. What he was truly doing was checking in to see if you were alright with the attention you were receiving from Eustass Kid. He knew you were tough, and that you had a type, but he wanted to ensure the safety of his tinkerer. 

“Captain-!” you began, your voice drowning beneath the surprised grunt of Kid’s exclaim, “-Traffy!” Kid’s body hovered over yours, shielding the exposure of your chest from the eyes of your Captain. You almost pouted out a softened hum of awe at the larger man's valiance, but your attention remained captivated by Law's disapproving expression. 

As you both began to utter your verbalised defenses, you witnessed Captain Law’s smirk grow all the broader: feral and cryptid. Your eyes widened, watching as he raised his hand upwards, his fingers splayed out in hyper focussed concentration. 

“Unfortunately for the both of you, I refuse to allow such lewd acts performed in my hallways - no matter who is performing them,” he uttered in a low growl, prompting a blush to rise against your cheeks. 

Before a further explaination could be uttered in your defense, Law hastily spoke over your rising voice with two key words of his own. 

“Room,” he smirked, eyes darkening as you and Kid both felt at the mercy of your Captain demonstrating his raw power with his devil-fruit ability, “Shambles.”

Your surroundings went dark around you, your body feeling helpless within the trap of Law's displacement. Although you had experienced this method of transportation prior, the disassociation and frazzle of the world around, fading in and out, remained a difficult concept to comprehend and adjust to. 

Switching positions with two flecks of dust within your crew quarters by the will of your Captain, had your body falling unceremoniously atop Kid’s on the metal floor beneath you with a firm thud. A grunt at the contact alongside a huffed breath from your companion prompted a laugh to began simmering within your chest. 

“Well, well, well,” you managed to giggle out through your teetered laughter, “Looks like you didn't have to ask me nicely, after all.”

Kid huffed out a disapproving gruff growl, shifting your body away to take in the full view of your face above him. Although the crew quarters were lit by the hum of electrical lamplight, he strained to make out the outlines of your face in this switched position. 

Before he could adjust to exactly what was happening within the room, he was surprised at the shift of weight above him sliding down his body. As he moved his dizzying head to focus on your actions, he was surprised to hear a jingle of metal and the loosening of his pants. 

He snapped his eyes to witness the swirl of your tongue claiming the chorded strands of his pants within your mouth, skillfully tugging at the belt with your teeth to expose his briefs beneath. He sucked in his shock, hastily propping himself up on his elbows to get a more in depth look at your features. 

“F-Fuck,” he groaned, eyes unable to break his eyes away from watching you take apart his pants, “Y-You’re actually doing it with your teeth.” He whispered, reaching his right hand down to rake his fingers through your hair. You smiled, tugging one final harsh bite at his zippered fly to expel his clothed member beneath the parted split of his pants. 

“I would never mislead you,” you reassured him with a huffed chuckle, watching the small twitch of his rapidly expanding cock. The subtle damp patch of precum against the soft material of his briefs, “I despise those who go back on their word.”

With another small string of curses, Kid released your hair within his palm and lulled his head back on his shoulders as you circled your grip around his clothed shaft. Tugging it firmly beneath the material, his heavy balls began to fall beneath the elastic hem of his leg holes. 

You shifted your hands along his veiny cock. The outline of his perfect, mushroomed tip dipped in a divet within the strain against the material of the cotton fabric. His leg began to twitch as you straddled his thigh and teased the waistband of his briefs with the brush of your unoccupied fingertips. 

Reaching into his pants, you claimed his cock within your palm and attempted to circle your digits around it: the large girth having your fingertips barely brush together in their circumference. Flicking your thumb over the tip had a moan stifled within Kid’s lips. Huffing at the friction, he drew his head up to glance at you through half-hooded lashes. 

Brows knit in focus, your jaw hung ever slightly slack as you focussed on pistoning Kid’s impressive cock within your grip. The look of awe on your features as you exposed his member by flipping his waistband down had Kid’s ego swelling with pride. He smiled as you but back a moan of your own, taking in the full view of his incredibly large cock. 

“It's not going to fit,” you gasped, eyes glazed in a hypotonic, lustful trance. Kid smirked at your comment, panting at the attention you were paying to his sensitive knob and frenulum with your thumb. 

In one swell movement, he hastily flipped your positions and caged you beneath him. Your chest was fully exposed, your uniform hanging limply on your hips as his right hand dove beneath the waist of your undergarments. 

“It'll fit,” he moaned, his lips finding your clavicle bone, containing a perfect ovular circle he bit into earlier, and pressed his lips roughly against it, “Just gotta warm ya’ up first.”

He sought out your heat with his fingers, feeling the arousal he'd already caused earlier by his lips, teeth and grinding hips. His two middle fingers slotted between your walls, feeling the coat of slick over his knuckles as he spread your essence over your needy hole. 

Before he sunk his fingers into your core, he retreated back upwards to your awaiting, quivering clit. As his warm fingers began tracing delicate circles against your aching bud, he claimed your lips beneath his own. 

Your hands shot to his hair, grasping the red strands within your fingertips. Angling your chin up, you needily licked Kid's lips while whining at his ministrations. Everything was too little and too much all at once, your craving for him outweighing the need for him to make you ready to take his impressive size. 

Moans were caught within his painted lips, his own empathetic moans at your joy spread from his mouth into yours. As he swirled his digits expertly around your clit, he forced his tongue within your mouth to brush against yours. Sliding the muscle throughout your mouth, you arched your back as he continued using his hands and lips to bring you pleasure. 

Seeking out his cock, your hand grasped at every surface of his large muscles and skin on your journey downwards. Just before you managed to wrap your hand around the swollen head of his cock again, Eustass Kid’s metal hand shot down and claimed your wrist within his iron grip and pinned both hands above your head. 

Breaking his lips from yours, his fiendish smile grew wide. His teeth playfully bit your bottom lip as a wordless reprimand for your actions. You whined, your hands attempting to wriggle free from his iron grip to seek out his cock once more. 

“Not gonna let you touch me ‘til I make you cum at least once,” he laughed at you, slowly rolling circles around your needy bud. You arched your back and mewled for him as he raked his fingers down to your hole, then back up to your clit in skillful motions. 

“I let you take the lead while your Captain’s stupid devil fruit power made me dizzy,” he slunk down your torso, ripping your legs out of your pants with one swift swipe with his metal hand, “But now that my head's all clear, I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard, Sunshine.”

You were now completely exposed to him, your naked body lying vulnerable beneath his almost fully-clothed body. Only his cock was exposed to you; the rest of his larger form remained shrouded by his cloak, buckled holsters and pants. 

“P-please,” you whined for him, panting as he pinned your writhing hips to the floor beneath his forearm. He chuckled, hooking your knees over his shoulders and bringing your glistening core up to his face after releasing your hands from his metal arm.  

“Quit ya’ squirming,” he growled, leaning his face down against your needy heat, “I know how you feel about goin’ back on your word.” He tested your reactions with a small flick of his tongue against your clit, laughing when you arch your back in reaction, “Wouldn't want you to despise me, now, do I?”

“Captain,” you gasped, feeling his breath cooling against your sticky walls as he hovered his lips over your oozing essence. He chuckled further, forcing your legs apart as he took in the sight of your arousal. His jaw shuddered at the sight, eyelashes fluttering as his smile rose up on his face. 

“I would never mislead you,” he mocked your earlier sentiment, prompting you to scowl at his taunting expression. Just as soon as your scowl appeared, it fled just as hastily from your face as he dove head-first into your heat. 

Kid's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sampled your sweet essence, rolling his tongue over your aching clit in slow, deliberate circles. You bit your lip to stifle your keening mewls, prompting Kid to groan into your glistening sex. 

“So cute,” he commented, bobbing his head as he swiped his tongue up and down, spreading your juices around your entrance and clit, “So fuckin’ cute.” 

Nodding against your heat, he became drunk with lust as you attempted to grind further against his face. He used his nose to add pressure to your clit as he dipped his tongue into your neglected entrance. Swirling his tongue, he lapped at your juices straight from the source, with grunts of praise growling from his messy lips coated in your sweet nectar. 

The coil in your stomach bound itself tight within the pit of your abdomen. You huffed into your wrist, clamping your eyes tightly shut as you had no choice but to take the tongue lashing Kid was forcing into your body. 

Your thighs began to shake as you strained against his extremely large hands, once again becoming aware of how big he was. At the mercy of the man above you, you began gushing into his mouth as the first wave of your erupting orgasm coursed through you.

“O-Oh fuck yes, that's it,” Kid's muffled voice praised you between your legs, “Cum on my face. C’mon, wanna feel it.”

“F-Fuck, Captain,” you cried out for him, tears beginning to well from the intensity in which you rode through the waves of your encumbering high. 

Attempting to writhe and wriggle out of his grip, he held you firmly in place and bullied your cunt with his face further. He dove in deeper, torturing your core with his tongue and lips as he continued to messily lap at your juices. 

“Nuh uh,” he chastised you, prompting you to sob at the overstimulation, “You're gonna take it. Go on, Sunshine. Cum for me again,” he chuckled into your tingling entrance when you screamed at the feeling of his tongue needily and aggressively lapping at you, “I know you can.”

Panic wrote itself on your face, you're cheeks running hot as your blood turned cold. Feeling the firm press of his hands against your hips, you truly felt helpless beneath the hulking figure of Eustass Kid.  He was going to hold you down and make you cum again, and you were going to have to take it. 

“This is whatcha get for being a brat earlier,” Kid leant his face away as he messily spat against your hole. Diving down immediately after, he lapped at your oversensitive heat and held your body completely at his mercy, “This is what me snapping looks like, Sunshine. Fucking take it.”

You whimpered, reaching your hands down and grabbing fistfuls of his hair within your hands. Attempting to tug his face away from you, he doubled down his efforts and elevated your hips with his strong and firm grip. He thrust your body backwards and forwards, grinding your sensitive cunt against his face as you felt him chase another of your intense highs. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh F-fuck,” you screamed, gushing your juices over his chin as another gushing orgasm snuck up on you. This was not as intense as the first one prior, but it stole the breath from your lungs and took the wind out of your sails. 

“There ya’ go,” he chuckled, grinding your hips against his face, “Fuck yes, cum in my face again.” 

He slowed down the intensity of his grinding, remaining in tempo of the rhythmic twitches of your orgasm beckoning him in with hypnotic pulses. Floating back down from your high, you collapsed onto the cool ground beneath you. 

You felt him come away from your body, fully expecting the larger man to immediately pummel his large cock into you and wincing in anticipation. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you looked down to notice Kid had raisen to his knees and removed his weighty cloak and straps from his torso. 

He smirked down at you, watching as you took in his body with your fucked-out, glazed-over expression. He tugged at the waistband of his underwear, moving the rest of his clothes down over his hips to free his balls and his legs. 

“Waitin’ ‘til you catch your breath,” Kid whispered affectionately while casting his boots, socks and pants aside, “I'm cruel, but I'm not that cruel.” 

In truth, Kid felt the approach of a premature untouched orgasm swelling in his abdomen the moment your cunt pressed against his face. It had been so long since he had taken a lover, especially one as enthusiastic as you were at the very notion of a sliver of his attention. 

You teased him earlier in the day with your unbridled lust, intrigued him with your devotion to your tinkering assignment, and had him completely smitten with your complete and utter shamelessness.

He was so completely riled up, he refused to be embarrassed by how quickly he was going to cum from the moment your cunt touched his twitching, engorged cock. He wanted to take his time, enjoy your company for as long as you were willing to share it with him. 

As your heartbeat slowed to a more forgiving pace, you beckoned him with your coaxing hands and pleading eyes. Smiling down at you, he hovered over your face and pressed needy and passionate kisses against your jaw with his lips and tongue. 

His red, fat tongue slithered against your chin, prompting you to turn your head and claim the organ into your parted lips. As soon as your mouth brushed with his, you felt the tip of his cock tap against your over prepared and glistening hole. You moaned against his lips as his tip began to split you apart, your walls moving in a wide stretch to accommodate his impressive girth. 

“I-It’s too big,” you winced against his lips, “Too big!” You cried out as he soothed you by pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, lips, temple, chin and jaw. 

“Y-You can t-take it,” he huffed, wincing at how tight your cunt was choking him, strangling him with your smaller core, “Just-... hah, fuck-... Just relax around it. You can do that for me, can't you? Relax and let me i-in.” His shiny tip pushed deeper into your cunt, his shaft twitching as he felt your fluttering walls adjust to accommodate him. 

You winced your brows up, breathing deeply as he caged your smaller body beneath him. Huffing out several strangled breaths, he fully slotted his shaft into you. Tufts of his red pubic hair ground coarsely against your swollen clit, a cry spilling from your lips the welcome he received as his cock encased itself within your warm, puffy sheath. 

“Fuck, you're so-... ngmmh-... so fucking tight,” he bit your shoulder as he buried his head within the crook of your neck. At every quiver your glistening core fluttered around him, he felt his orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“You're so fucking big,” you praised him with a hushed, needy whisper; mewling as he began to make shallow movements, pistoning his cock while remaining deep within your cunt. 

You felt yourself relax around him, the rocking of his hips enabled you to adjust quickly to his length and girth. You circled your arms around his shoulders, cradling his head against your shoulder as you felt him begin to pant. A flash of lightning hit your body as your lust hit you with its stricken intensity. 

“C'mon, big boy,” you cooed down at him with new motivation, “I know you can fuck me harder than that.” Kid snapped his head up, his eyes feral as he gawked at you. 

“You want me to fuck you harder?” Kid asked, a pink flush tinting his face as deep a scarlet as his vibrant hair. You laughed, your abdomen constricting his cock within you as you did. 

“Did I stutter?” You teased him, clawing at his shoulders before capturing his cheeks within the heels of your palms, “Harder.” Eustass Kid, who was not accustomed to be on the receiving end of orders, immediately began slamming his hips against yours in rough claps. You shrieked in joy, gyrating to match his quickening pace. 

The wet slaps of your cunt taking Kid's cock reverberated with your mutual moans throughout the crew quarters. You huffed out strangled pants as you ground your hips upwards to meet with his heavy-handed thrusts. His biceps twitched with every hard thrust against you, leaning up on his flesh and metal arms to get a glimpse of his cock disappearing within your gummy walls.

Cocking your head to the side, you noticed his brows were knit in focus, his mind still holding his body back from being too rough with you. You craved him letting go, the craving prompting you to hook your legs over his hips and lock your ankles together behind his lower back.  

“Harder,” you coax him, “Go harder, Captain. I can't take it.” As a gesture, you tug at his shoulders and cradle his body against you. He fell against you, his arms caging you once again beneath him. 

“I'm gonna break your fucking hips if I fuck you any harder,” he huffed against your cheek. He continued his rough pace, the lewd slap of his balls on your puckered ass causing you to cry out for him. 

“I serve on a ship full of doctors,” you prompt him, pressing open kisses against his collar and rocking your hips to his rhythm, “I can take it. C'mon, Kid. Fuck me like you want to.”

Kid halted his movements, his eyes immediately snapping up to meet with your own. He was immediately challenged by your utter audaciousness, searching your eyes for any hesitation for him to simply take what he wanted from your body. 

“Like I want to?” His growl sent a shudder from youd chest down to your cunt, stil containing his entire length, “You want me to show you how I want to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, biting and nipping at his cheek, jaw and neck as a further coaxing for him to propel himself harder, firmer and deeper against you. 

He broke your arms away from his shoulders, his metal and flesh hands immediately moving to the backs of your thighs and pressing them firmly up into your stomach. You mewled in shock, feeling the new depth his cock reached at this angle hitting and brushing against more of your core you never thought possible. 

“You want me to fuck you with my full strength? Feel me so fucking deep in your stomach it borders on painful?” He growled, pressing his stomach against your thighs as he allowed his full weight to sink down into you, “You want your bones to fall on the brink of shattering as I fuck into you, using you for my own personal pleasure?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed a little louder than before, following his movement with the rapid bounce of your hips in rhythm with his rough thrusts. You bit back a cry as he picked up his pace, your lower abdomen feeling the pinch of his tip kissing your cervix. 

He hastily drew down his hands, prompting you to hook your arms behind your knees to keep you fully exposed to his rough thrusts. As you held your legs back, he forced his right hand onto the pit of your stomach, pushing on the tip of his angular cock brushing against the spongy curvature of your G-spot. 

“Feel that? That's-... fuck, hhah-... how fucking deep I am,” he panted, his thrusts becoming more erratic. You cried out muted sobs in desperation for him, feeling the approach of your third orgasm rapidly stampeding towards you. 

“Fuck you like I want to, Sunshine?” He growled, repeating your taunt back to you. His speed continuing to pick up as heavy thrusts as he pressed your thighs further into your chest, “Fuck you rough and deep enough to split you apart with my cock? Like I fucking want to?”

“Yes!” you cried out in confirmation, feeling the tight call of your orgasm begin to shake at your toes to your thighs, warmth spreading in your chest with the ignition of passionate convulsions. He groaned for you, panting as he felt the first twitches of his own approach pulsate through the base of his shaft, his balls sucked into the pit of his stomach and knob twitching deep within you. 

“Oh, fuck!” he barked, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he continued to pummel, bully, and bruise your cunt with his impressive, firm cock. He felt the first wave of your pussy beckoning him with your orgasm, his mind no longer his own as he gave into his primal urge to continue claiming you. 

“Fuck, Captain. I'm g-gonna-... f-fuck-... I'm gonna cum-,” you screamed, caged beneath his body as your walls began wringing circular pulses over his cock. Kid began to panic, overcome with the feeling of your pussy milking his shaft. 

“I c-can’t pull out, I can't pull out!” He begged and pleaded as his knob began to leak with the first spurts of unrestrained precum, “Too fucking good!”

“Cum in me, I need you!” you screamed in your haze, drunk on the feeling of this larger man splitting you open with his desperation. You bounced your cunt against him, matching the pace he set while riding through your all encumbering orgasm. 

“F-Fuck!” he roared, ribbons of white release splashing against your cervix and trickling down your thighs with your own juices gushing against him. Your beckoning thumps continued wringing Kid's cock with each pulse in unified bliss. 

Growls of strangled moans fled from Kid's lips as he claimed your mouth within his, deepening the angle he was slamming his hips down against your core and slowing his erratic pace. 

He released your thighs from his grip, choosing to thread his arms around your shoulders and elevate you to a sitting position, his cock still deeply sheathed within you. Rocking back onto his heels and calves, he continued pressing open and lustful kisses against your lips as the last few, teetered, aftershocks of his orgasm spent itself within you. 

Holding the back of your neck, he continued cradling you against himself. His kisses turned soft, sweet and almost loving, his lip paint now marking nearly all of your body with the scarlet hue. The subtle tang of your juices remained on his tongue as you welcomed more of him against your lips. 

As you motioned to break away from his lips to catch your breath, he needily held your neck firmly in place, continuing to pant through his kisses planted against your lips. He rotated his head, his lips entangling themselves sloppily against yours as you both finally fell back down to the harsh reality around you. 

“More,” he whimpered against you, still under the prior hypnotic spell your words and actions cast on him, “Need more.”

Smiling, you pressed several peppered kisses against his lips and face. He hummed through his nose, whining at how affectionate you were remaining to be after taking his aggravated and almost assaulting pace with his cock still inside you. You tested his still firm cock, rocking yourself on his lap which caused a choked whimper to flee from his throat. 

“How long are you staying with us, Captain?” you managed to ask him as soon as you broke away from his desperate lips. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands moving down to circle around your shoulders and waist. 

“Couple more days,” he confessed in a whisper, his eyes glancing down at where your bodies remained still as one, “Then we leave to go on our separate ways again.” 

You both clamped your eyes shut, feeling your bodies unified together as his cock began to soften within your walls. You raised your hands to cradle his cheeks, pressing a few sweet kisses against his lips as he hung his head back within your arms. 

“And after a few days?” you whispered your question, pressing your forehead against his once more with your eyes remaining shut to conceal your emotions from him, “Then what?” 

You felt Kid's right thumb begin tracing circles against your hip, his arms sliding down to claim both sides of your body beneath his broad hands. 

“Then, Sunshine," he scoffed, playfully licking your chin with the sharpened tip of his tongue, "Every time I meet with your captain and your crew…” he teased you, tilting your face with a subtle jab of his chin to force your eyes to open, as he uttered his final confession to you. 

“... we're gonna make it everyone's problem.”

As soon as you met with his rust-colored eyes, you were once again consumed with lust for him. His enchanting smile, his scarred cheeks, his smudged face paint, his wicked grin: all bewitched you to the point where you would agree to everything he could ever pose to you.

"I'm looking forward to being shameless and embarrassing with my open adoration and lust for you, Captain," you confessed in a whispered breath. He laughed at you smoothing over your hair with his hand, smiling as he drew his face all the closer to yours.

"I'm looking forward to being the object of your shameless fucking lust, Sunshine," he uttered before he claimed your lips beneath his once more in a lengthy, sultry kiss, "Let's get cleaned up, go a couple more times," you squeaked in joy at the notion, prompting a huff of laughter to expel from Kid, "Then I'll carry you up there to enjoy dessert, just like I promised."

[tawfu]

photograph

cw: dom reader, sub childe, masturbation, face slapping, nipple play, degradation, masochism, dacryphilia, coming in pants, coming untouched, gn reader, childe is a pervert

wc: 1.2k

Summary: Your virgin, touch starved comrade finally gets some action.

The rivalry between you and Childe has somewhat turned into companionship. Everywhere you go, you’ll find him lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to cause a little trouble.

It’s not like you mind. In fact, it brings a tinge of thrill to your travels. You always end up sparring, pushing each other to the limit as you explore Childe’s tactics and weak spots. Once in a while, you like to explore one another’s weak spots a bit further.

At first, Childe thought you hated him. It didn’t do much to hinder his advances, because your passion for fighting was delightful. Holding back was never an option for you, and he loved it… A lot.

Enough to find himself in front of the mirror after every fight of yours, admiring the cuts and bruises formed by your hands. That was more than enough for him to fall to his knees, pressing on those spots and hissing in pain, thinking about the way you looked when you placed them on him until small beads of precum would make their appearance on his underwear.

He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s found himself in front of his laptop, biting his shirt and drooling on it while fisting his aching cock to whatever porn video he could find where the actor’s looks resembled yours even slightly.

Sometimes, he’d fall into a rabbit hole of S&M videos, unable to stop touching himself until he was hyperventilating from overstimulation, his whole room reeking of his smell, body covered in sticky cum and sweat. He wanted you to use him so badly.

Childe would become increasingly more obvious with his attraction towards you, towards your strength and the pain you inflicted on him. Grunts became louder, his legs would become shaky, and he’d even slip in quiet whimpers when you taunted him. 

His swings would become clumsy for only a moment while his eyes zeroed in on your body, cheeks ruddy as he observed the way your muscles flexed and the teasing look in your eye, so determined to take him down. Fuck, when will you just force him to his knees and have your way with him?!

That instant of gawking was more than enough for you to trip him to the ground, the feeling of your sharp blade pricking the underside of his jaw just enough to draw a drop of blood, snapping him out of his trance.

“You’re pretty sloppy today, Childe. I’m disappointed.”

“You can’t expect me to always be in top condition. I have yet to recover from how rough you went on me last time,” he chuckled, chest heaving as he panted loudly.

“Right. I’ll believe that when you start wearing a pair of pants that’ll actually cover your erection.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s not because of you.”

You inched closer, before stomping on his wrist with your foot, and Childe cried out at the sheer force of it.

“Don’t lie. The last thing a masochistic slut like you should pretend to have is pride,” you scoffed.

Oh, he knows. He just wants to savor the sight of you, looking down at him from above like this and mocking him.

“H-help me then. Hurt me, please–” Childe replied shakily in an attempt to entice you.

You’d be lying if you said that taking the chance to play with your sparring buddy like this was something you hadn’t imagined before.

That sitting on his stomach, ripping his shirt apart and toying with his body wasn’t in your list of fantasies. He was already arching up into you, trying to feel more of your weight on top of him.

Your hands cupped his cheek, almost surprising him with your gentle touch, before it left him abruptly, returning as a harsh smack to his face. A grin formed on your face, and you didn’t stop, alternating between his cheeks until they turned red, marked with your handprints. 

He could probably escape if he tried, but why would he? You were touching him, and after all the nights he spent thinking about you, desperate to feel you in any sort of way, what you do to him doesn’t matter.

The only sounds Childe was able to let out were wails of pleasure, as his body squirmed and arched further into you. He finally spoke after you slowed down, allowing him to catch his breath. His eyes were teary, looking up into your own with nothing but lust.

“S-shit! That’s so good!”

You smiled mischievously, letting your fingertips dance across his neck and grazing it with your nails. That gentle touch of yours, paired with the stinging on his face, was like heaven to Childe. His cock was already throbbing within its confines, just as needy as him… just as pathetic as him.

“I can feel you poking me from behind. I hope you don’t think I’d ever touch that disgusting thing.”

A retort was sitting right at the tip of his tongue, trying so hard to save a fragment of his dignity, but there was no way he could oppose you. Especially not when he felt his tip drool because of those very insults.

Naturally, your next stop would be his chest, cupping and fondling it the way one would a woman. He could’ve sworn that you had at some point even teased him about it, referring to them as tits. Or maybe he had just imagined it when he was–

“Fuck! Why!” he yelped, yet his hips betrayed his words, bucking into thin air at the feeling of your fingers pinching his nipples, before gently circling his areolas.

You ignored him, continuing your attacks on his chest by flicking and pulling on each nipple while your other hand moved to his neck, ripping a shaky sigh out of Childe as you squeezed it.

“What’s the point of all our training, if you’re gonna turn into a drooling, good for nothing mess the moment someone touches you like this? What if a group of samurai attacked you? Would you squirm like a little girl and let them use you too?”

Your ridiculing wouldn’t cease, but Childe could only moan in bliss, the image you inserted into his head making his eyes roll back. The grip around his neck was tight enough to leave bruises, and he was sweating profusely, hands trying, albeit in vain, to claw themselves into the floor for any sort of support.

“M-more! Please, it’s too much!”

He couldn’t think anymore. There was no point. His cheeks were already stained with tears, his hips jumping uncontrollably as he cried out in pleasure, ropey streaks of cum spilling into his pants.

Even after you let go of him, his body wouldn’t stop twitching. He was in a haze, only snapping out of it when he felt your nails digging into his cheeks as you grabbed his jaw forcefully.

“We didn’t agree on letting you cum, did we? Yet you came in your pants like a teenage boy,” you spat.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

“Looks like you’ll have to make it up to me, then.”

…

Why was this motherfucker grinning?!

[amygdalagustd]

You can always borrow me

Summary: Jungkook is busy but you want his attention.

Pairing: jungkook × reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 637

series: Tattoos and kisses

“Jungkoooook,” you whined from the bed.

Your partner sat behind the desk in the corner of the room, one leg popped up against his chest, his eyes focused on whatever he was drawing. He seemed to be unfaced by your somewhat pathetic attempt at getting his attention.

“Jungkoooookieeeee….” you repeated, even more whiny this time.

No reaction again. He didn’t even flinch, didn't even seem to hear you. It was time for more drastic measures. You grabbed the first pillow your hand could find and threw it in his direction.

It hit his head with zero force, but made him look up at you. Two glossy eyes stared into your general direction as you could practically see his brain trying to pull itself away from whatever it was doing.

“Okay,” Jungkook stated, “I did not deserve that vile attack.”

You pouted at him.

“But I'm in grave need of attention!”

He turned his chair away from the desk and towards you, showing you his full frame. He looked soft, wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Suddenly there was a smirk on his face.

You couldn't even react before the same pillow you had thrown slammed into your face at full force. Not even a second later your partner threw himself on top of you, stradling you with his thighs.

His hands quickly found their way to your sides, where he started mercilessly tickling you.

You trashed and squirmed and yelled, but he was simply no match for you.

“Jungkoo….jung…jungkook stoo…stop JUNGKOOK!” You managed to scream out. Throughout the chaos of it all the smirk on his lips never left his face.

“What?” He asked mockingly, “I thought you wanted attention?”

“I do, I do!” You yelled in between laughs. “But not like this!”

Suddenly he stopped, just as abrupt as he had started, and now his face was right there in front of yours and his hands were warm against your skin.

“Like what then?” He asked, staring into your eyes.

You gave yourself a second to stare back into the big doe eyes you had fallen in love with all this time ago. Then, very softly, you pushed him off you and climbed on top of him. He didn't resist, instead let you guide his body onto the mattress. 

“Like this,” you whispered, and you softly kissed him on the lips. 

You sunk down onto his chest and got comfortable cuddling up next to him. As he wrapped his arm around you, you absent-mindedly took his other hand into yours and played with his fingers.

“What were you doing anyway?” You asked.

“Drawing something for army,” he answered.

“Mhm.”

Your eyes went to his hand in yours, and the many tattoos on it. You rubbed over the purple heart with your thumb, and lifted his hand to your lips.

With the utmost care in the world you placed a kiss on each of his knuckles, one for each letter on them.

A. R. M. Y.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook chuckled.

“Thanking them for letting me borrow you.”

Jungkook snorted and pulled you closer to him. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and then one on your lips. Your body automatically pulled itself closer to him as you felt his arms wrap around you tighter.

“You can always borrow me,” he said.

He leaned in to kiss you again, but stopped right before his lips touched yours. 

A little smirk on his lips and then he started singing.

“Every hour, every minute, every second, you know night after night, I'll be-”

“Yeah yeah,” you interrupted him, “seven days a week, I got it.”

You pulled him closer and kissed him quickly, not giving him the opportunity to respond, but you were sure he could feel the smile on your lips against his. 

[starrykaulitz]

could you write walking in on bill and tom jerking off (separately obviously)💀

$. caught.

☆ synopsis ; you walk in on bill and tom “pleasuring” themselves (SEPARATE SCENARIOS FOR EACH BROTHER!!)

★ pairing ; bill x fem!reader, tom x fem!reader

☆ word count ; 2121

★ warnings ; language, smut (18+), dirty talk?, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation.

a/n – hi so I cannot do headcannons to save myself so here are short lil drabbles of what unrealistically would happen if u walked in on them, hope this is okay :)

☆

BILL :

your face dropped, the bag once gripped within your hand—contents including aldi snacks—plummeted roughly to the floor beside you.

bill’s face mimicked your own, instantly turning a dark scarlet. he couldn’t get a hold of the blanket beside him fast enough as he attempted to cover the erection gripped within his right hand.

the room was filled with silence, not even breathing could be heard between the two of you before bill blinked for the first time in what felt to be hours.

“i-i am so sorry…” the boy stuttered, his voice throaty and sick as he instantly shut the laptop beside him.

“no, no…” you attempted to find the will to speak, to say anything to rid of the rising tension between his crotch and the way you almost began salivating at what you saw.  

“its…” you began, though was harshly cut-off at the way you envisioned bill’s mouth hanging open, erotic moans and groans leaving his strong lungs as he watched your head bop up and down on what he once was touching himself.

you swallowed the thought, biting your bottom lip as the invisible restraints within you held you back from pouncing on the man and finishing what he had started.

“it’s my fault…” you finally let out, eyes roaming bill’s suggestive state-- sweat glistened on his fore-head, long-black locks clinging to his neck from the high he had been chasing, the way his shirt was prompted just above his star tattoo, revealing his flexed muscles as he lent against the bed-head—all making you do the rather rash thing in which your body found to be instinctive.

stalking forward, his dark eyes had not left yours once, studying each and every slight movement you made.

you felt the soft bedding beneath your knees as you climbed on top of the dumbfounded boy—god, he looked sexy without makeup.

he watched as your legs encircled his own, straddling him as you removed your jacket and threw it to the floor—he licked his lips, tongue ring present for only moments before he felt your hand at the peak of the sheet covering what you needed in your possession oh so gravely.

you shuffled backward, the blanket gripped in your shivering fingertips following in suit until it revealed his still hard cock. it was large, larger than what your eyes had first tasted.

the way the pre-cum seeped out of its tip was something you had only dreamed off—the position of your tongue licking the base of his cock something that bill had only seen within his heated fantasies.

he seethed as he watched your palm slowly spread your own spit, combined with his pre-cum, up and down his length. bills hand instantly met roughly with the blanket beneath him as he groped harshly at its soft fabric.

you couldn’t wait any longer—you needed to hear the pitiable boy beneath you whine. and as you licked his blossom-pink tip, his sounds did not disappoint. you began drawing circles around it before your throat slowly lowered to the base of his cock. you groaned as his size hit the back of your throat, eyes already beginning to water before you mentally prepared to finish what he’d started.

he cursed under his breath as his manicured hand pulled his shirt up higher on his stomach-- making sure to witness everything you’d been doing to his already close cock—the ironic situation being that he’d been jerking off to exactly what was now a reality.

your pace started unhurried as you could already feel the length twitching within your throat, figuring that he must’ve been close to finishing before you’d rudely barged in.

as your pace quickened, so did his rapid breathing. the way you began to gag on his dick only making him beyond vocal as he slurred on his words, fighting the moans which escaped his raw throat.

“fuck…” he whined again, “im s-so close…” bill’s mouth whining your name only made you accelerate your speed, instantly forcing another moan out of him.

“i-i…” his breath caught in his throat. he attempted to swallow it down with him though could only groan, teeth seething as he felt pure euphoria from your warm throat.

his head shot backward till it lent against the bed-head behind him, your eyes lifting to watch his chest rise and fall whilst your mouth dealt with his shuddering dick.

as you watched bill find the strength to bring his neck upward once-more, instantly locking eyes with your own, his mouth fell agape. the way your mouth engulfed his length so easily, the sound of your sloppy gagging on his cock, he couldn’t handle it.

“i-im coming…” his knuckles became white as he drilled them into the bed, moaning loudly as his long awaited high slammed into him, eyes rolling to the back of his head being followed by a string of curses.

you felt his warm seed hit the back of your throat, the salty taste soon fading as you lifted yourself off his dick hesitantly.

you held the taste on your tongue as your hands met with his chin, forcing his head off the support of the bed-board and drawing his attention to your mouth. you made him watch as his cum, once flattened against your tongue, now travelled down your throat. he panted through an open mouth, watching intently as you licked the excess liquid from your lips.

TOM :

“ill be right back.” you yawned, looking to bill who rested contentedly next to you, his eyes not leaving the TV screen for even a moment.

you were to make sure you were quick—going to the toilet, washing hands, and sprinting back downstairs as to not miss any of the movie—this was your initial plan.

as your feet leapt from one step too another—missing every second plank—you turned down the corridor until reaching the door in which you’d been looking for.

without a second thought, you rushed inside. immediately regretting your hasty choice, you jumped backward at the sight in front of you.

tom, leaning against the tiled wall within the shower, held his erection within his fist. as he heard the door swing open, he lifted his head instantly to the noise and jumped just as you had.

“tom, fuck!” you yelped before turning around and stamping your foot on the floor.

“how in fuck is this my fault!?” he screamed over the running water, “didn’t you hear the shower running?”

come to think of it, no, you hadn’t. you had been in too much of a rush to even realise someone had been inside the room you so desperately needed—your original motive instantly being forgotten after this crude incident.

“fuck, i’m sorry, alright?” you mumbled before making your way back to where you had just been—though suddenly something gripped at your wrist. you were met with wet, soggy fingers pulling you toward them.

tom had his well-known devilish smirk painted across his face, watching your shocked expression as you choked back a yelp once your face met with the warmth of running water.

“tom, fuck off!” it was too late to escape, you were soaked. you turned to face away from his naked body, eyes shut as his grip remained stagnant on your wrist.

the pyjama shorts and crop-top which were once white became only a transparent grey. as you realised this, your arms instantly wrapped around your body—no, they weren’t your arms; they were tom’s.

you felt his heavy, damp dreads fall to your shoulder as his face stopped beside your right ear.

“turn around.” he whispered against the delicate skin of your ear-lobe, your thighs instinctively pressing together as you felt a heat begin budding within you.

you had no choice but to oblige to his demand, and as you did, you were met with first, his naked legs, eyes moving upward until they reached his own brown-ones. his teeth were almost perfectly white, his smirk horribly irresistible as you watched him gradually lean into your neck, beginning to plant feverish kisses to it’s damp surface.

you couldn’t help but extend it for him further, allowing tom to fully take advantage of the space between you and your now soaked shirt—a good day to be bra-less.

you felt as his calloused fingers began roaming your curves, digging into your waist before your own fingers began pulling on his wet dreads—let loose and out of their usual up-do.

your thumb met his jaw, dragging his face out of your neck and toward your lips. instantly, his tongue licked at the corners of your mouth before entering. as they fought for dominance, fought for air, he had won, pushing you against the wall before he launched into groping at your exposed boobs.

he palmed at them, massaging them until his hands lowered to the hem of your shorts. you gasped as you felt his slick digit instantly enter your aching entry—he felt no need in preparing you.

“fuck, tom!” you clung to his back as your chests met one-another, slippery surfaces causing intense friction. his fingers curled inside you, causing you to cry out in pure pleasure as your nails dug into his back. you felt his mouth twist into an upward grin, he appreciated each and every noise leaving your plump lips.

then, another finger had begun pumping into you.

you whined his name against the crook of his neck, beginning to find it difficult to hold yourself upright as his pace only quickened, roughened.

then, he pulled himself away, your bodies parting making you whine as his warmth disappeared and you were hit with the steam of the shower. though as his fingers left you craving his touch, you watched tom kaulitz begin to get on his knees, his fingers swiping a group of dreads behind his ear before his hands gripped at the soft plush of your thighs.

parting them gently, soft lips trailed small kisses until they had reached your aching centre.

his fingers curled around your soaked shorts and pulled them to the floor, eyeing your clean bud before you felt his tongue lap at its folds.

again, you cried out his name amongst the sound of the running water which drummed against the tiles below.

the sensation of his lip-ring against your slick entrance caused your legs to go weak as his experienced tongue lapped up any juices he could. he was hungry, starving, eating you as if you were his prey.

“you taste…” another lick, “so fucking good.” he mumbled against you, causing intense vibrations to be sent straight to your uterus.

“keep going…” you mumbled, you couldn’t help but grip at the lose dread-locks hanging delicately around his jaw as he admired you from below—watching each erotic expression you made which only helped the hand that had begun working at himself.

he had been so desperate to please you for so long-- long enough to make him kneel to you and praise your pussy.

you looked down, watching as the hand working at himself caused his eyes to shut tightly. his free hand began to snake its way to your lower stomach, pressing down gently against it, forcing another whine out of you as you felt yourself nearing closer and closer to your end.

“im so close… please…” you begged as your head hit the fogged tiles behind you—the same tiles in which tom had been leaning on for support only moments ago.

and as his tongue entered you one final time, his enflamed lips rubbing against your sensitive clit, you felt your guts twist and pull until you’d felt your high hit you.

you moaned his name over and over as euphoria layered itself upon your heavy eye-lids, squeezing them shut as you felt tom lick your slick away, before finally his tongue glided over his lips—they were covered your juices.

you looked below, eyes meeting with the white liquid which now lay on tom’s tanned thighs. your breath was heavy, laboured, and your body felt to be on fire as you fought against the shower’s mist.

you noticed that tom had been in a similar state, his position painting him in a completely different light as he slowly lifted himself from his knees to an up-right position—you forgot how tall he was as he towered over your now pathetic, trembling body.

“take off the shirt, I can see everything anyways.”

[raysrays]

I’ve Got you

Kyojuro Rengoku X GN! Reader

CW: injury,blood, angst-ish to fluff

Scenario: Just because you are a Tsuguko doesn’t mean you get out of going on missions yourself. But what If you don’t return on time? What if you are injured?

Completing missions was never difficult for you, a perk of being a Tsuguko. Personal training by a Hashira has honed your skills. Your technique appears flawless, ensuring success on most tasks. As long as you didn’t run into any upper moons you’d be perfectly fine. Right?

That was your assumption until you reached your destination: a clearing tucked in the heart of a forest. Surrounded by miles of wilderness in every direction. You’d already spent too long traveling a different route due to the weather so you were technically a few days behind.

Upon your arrival, you immediately spotted the clearing, but to your surprise, a demon stood at its center—your target, it has to be.

You drew your sword slowly, cautious not to draw immediate attention to yourself as you approached. Upon getting a clearer view, you studied the demon's appearance intently.

It stood tall, with long white hair and a bluish tint to its skin.

But it must have noticed you staring, as it whipped its head around in seconds.

Its bright red eyes looked terrifying, and its long, claw like nails only added to its unsettling appearance.

You assumed your stance and charged at the demon, employing the breathing technique Kyojuro had tirelessly trained you to master.

However, as you closed the distance, an odd sensation crept over your body, causing everything to seem to move in slow motion.

Looking up, you noticed the demon sporting a creepy grin on its face. With a deliberate motion, it slowly raised its hand, dragging its disgusting claws down your left side.

The sudden surge of pain was intense.

Suddenly, time seemed to unfreeze as you plummeted to the ground in an instant. Looking around, you realized the demon had vanished without a trace.

Not a single hit landed, and it had slipped away.

Despite the searing pain, you attempted to stand, but the agony was overwhelming. Glancing down at your blood-soaked uniform and the wound beneath it, the fight wasn't over.

You couldn't stop now, not with the demon's still alive. That's what you tried to convince yourself.

You attempted to push yourself off the ground, but the pain held you back, causing your vision to blur and your eyelids to grow heavy.

"Am I bleeding out?" The thought flashed through your mind as your head connected with the ground.

It felt like mere seconds had passed when you were abruptly pulled out of unconsciousness by the sounds of yelling and talking.

"Y/N? Y/N?" The voice sounded oddly familiar.

"If you bleed out like this, you'll die in literally the most un-flashy way possible," the voice continued.

Ah, Tengen.

Through the small slit of your eyes, you saw him crouched down in front of you.

"There you are. Glad you're finally awake. I was worried you'd be dead for sure," he chuckled.

As you fully opened your eyes, I noticed that your side had been somewhat bandaged up, though it wasn't exactly top-tier first aid.

He frowned. "Look, I'm aware I'm not Shinobu, but it'll do until we get back."

You nod slowly and manage to push yourself back to your feet.

"How... how long was I out for?" You ask him nervously.

"Well, considering Rengoku paced around HQ to the point where the master sent him off on some pointless mission, I'd say quite a while," he rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. How long has it been?" You ask again.

He stops and thinks for a second. "You've probably only been out for a day and a half, but technically, you should have been back two days ago."

Your heart begins to race. You've been out far too long, undoubtedly causing Kyo worry. What if he's angry? Did the master really have to send him off on a mission to calm down?

Your mind races a mile a minute before you finally acknowledge Tengen again.

"Let's head back now. When will Kyojuro return?" Your voice sounds desperate. You want to see him. You need to see him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Rengoku is probably almost back by now. Like I said, it was just a lame mission to get him to mellow out for a second."

Suddenly, his hard, sarcastic gaze softens with a hint of concern. "Hey, come on, I'll help you back. I know you're probably in a lot of pain right now."

As he extended his hand to you, you finally accepted it. You liked Tengen; he was a good friend to Kyojuro, and really, that's all you cared about. He could be a complete asshole or a genuinely kind person, but you just got lucky today.

It took a while, but he was fast. Together, you both made it back to headquarters in half the time it would have taken alone.

When you finally arrived, he guided you straight to the Butterfly Mansion to get your injury taken care of.

Shinobu took you in and started to properly disinfect and re-bandage your wound.

You stare at her silently as she patches you up. Shinobu always wears that lifeless smile, yet she still looks remarkably beautiful. You know her story and admire her persistence and her invaluable contributions to the demon slayer corps.

"Y/N, you need to rest. I'll have Tengen inform the master about the demon that got away," her voice maintains its usual tone, neither angry nor particularly happy.

"I wasn't able to kill it. I'm sorry," you confess, feeling the weight of failure on your shoulders. That demon may not have been an upper moon, but it was undeniably strong. You almost feel embarrassed. Did you underestimate the demon, or were you too overconfident in your abilities?

Your thoughts are interrupted when Shinobu tilts your chin to look at her. "I assume you aren't used to failure, are you?" Her expression changes; instead of her usual painted smile, this time it seems genuinely sympathetic.

You feel embarrassment wash over you; she read you like a book.

"Y/N, not every mission will end in victory. It's enough that you didn't bleed out on the ground. I think that alone will make Rengoku very happy," Shinobu reassures you.

Shinobu could be extremely harsh, maybe even downright mean sometimes, but right now, she's comforting you. It feels good.

"Thank you, I really needed to hear that—"

You are interrupted by the sound of a crow flying around the mansion.

"Master Rengoku has returned from his mission!" it caws loudly.

Suddenly, the stress floods back over you. You've never been injured like this before. How will he react?

Shinobu notices your reaction and steps back from you.

"I'll be going now. Try to rest up while your injuries heal. I'll check back on you in a few hours."

You watch her leave, wondering if she's going to tell Kyojuro you're here. Does she already know how he'll react to the situation? Is it really even that big of a deal?

Maybe you're just overthinking this. As a Tsuguko, it's understandable that you'd sustain injuries every now and then. As a partner though…it's different.

What was only minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the sounds of the doors to the mansion open.

You recognized those footsteps; you had heard them every day of your life.

Once the doors finally opened, you saw Kyojuro. His eyes scanned you up and down, taking you in before he officially entered the room.

He looked so relieved but also worried as he walked over next to you, sitting in a chair beside the bed.

Before you could say anything, he took both your hands in his and rested his head on top of them.

"Thank goodness you're safe. I was so worried," his voice was quiet and gentle.

You didn't know what reaction to expect, but it wasn't this one.

A couple of moments of silence passed, and he finally lifted his head to look at you again. This time, his face seemed more serious.

"What happened out there? What demon did this to you?" His serious tone wasn't one you ever got used to.

"I'm not sure," you admit.

"If I'm being completely honest with you, I didn't get the chance to learn much about it at all. All I know is that it has the ability to slow down its surroundings, allowing it to attack at a normal rate, and that's how I got here." It felt embarrassing to admit your failure, but his face showed understanding.

Kyojuro knew how hard you had worked and trained, and every solo mission you went on had been a complete success up until this point. So honestly, he seemed just as shocked as you were.

Once he noticed your bandaged wound his serious face changed into a worried and sympathetic one.

"I'm so sorry, sunflower. I should've looked into the mission more before agreeing to let you go. I would never want you to be put in such a position," he said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and staring into your eyes.

The embarrassment you tried to shut out just came rushing back in that moment.

"Please don't pity me. I failed my mission. It's all my fault. I understand if you are disappointed, but once I heal, I will make sure to find that demon and take it down."

He looked surprised for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his face.

"Little flame, there is no doubt in my mind that you are a skilled swordsman. I'm grateful not only to have you as my Tsuguko but also as my partner," he said, reaching up and planting a small kiss on your forehead.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, my love. You did your best! As long as you return home to me at the end of the day, I will never be disappointed in you."

Your heart melted at his words. Kyo would never be angry with you. He loved you. All he ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy.

His bright, happy smile made everything in the world seem good again. You wanted to just wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

Then he stood up, wrapping his arms around your shoulders gently.

You finally felt the weight of the situation being lifted off your shoulders. The demon, the fear of bleeding out on the ground, the idea of disappointing Kyojuro, all of it gone.

Tears escaped the corners of your eyes. You hadn't let yourself cry this entire time, but his arms felt safe. As long as Kyojuro was there to support you, you finally felt vulnerable.

Kyojuro's arms felt so protective around you as you cried into him. He knew the stress you had been put through was probably overwhelming.

And even though he'd never show it, his anger made him vow to find this demon and ensure it would never hurt you again.

[rileyslibrary]

Where’s my pen, Lt.?

Summary: You’re PMSing, and Ghost comes to the rescue.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,110

Notes:

Angst and fluff

Dedicated to my ✨ anon

Want more?

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How can you be angry, sad, and tired all at the same time? It’s a never-ending cycle. Every month right before your period, you feel like shit. What did your species do to deserve such a cruel and recurring punishment? What a selfish b*tch that Eve was. So much for taking one for the team.

You’re standing in front of a table with a shattered drone resting on its mahogany top. Fortunately, with the right tools, carbon fibre is easy to repair. Unfortunately, this army base doesn’t have the necessary equipment and personnel for the job. It can be a complex task if you don’t have the resources, especially if you lack the energy and strength to do it just by yourself.

Ghost is sitting in the corner of the room, cleaning his handgun. He looks calm—sirene—as if he didn’t just stare death straight in the eyes a few hours ago. How does he do that?

On the contrary, your movements are sluggish, you have terrible back pain, and you lack the motivation to complete even the most basic tasks. But you have to fix that drone for its next mission.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the drone’s camera lenses. You’re unrecognisable. Your hair is acting up again, with unruly strands forming a halo at the crown of your head. Not only that, but your reflection reveals another issue. You take a closer look at your face. Fuck; another pimple. It decided to settle on your chin this time. Great—just great.

“Everything alright?” He asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Y-yes, ready to start the process.” You answer with false confidence. Can he tell you’re faking it? Probably.

He says nothing but keeps staring at you with an unreadable expression, his silence giving an answer in itself. After what seemed like an eternity, he stands up and walks towards the door, exiting the room and leaving you alone.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling in relief. Come on, get a hold of yourself. Focus.

You gather your hair up and fix it with whatever you have available in front of you. Now is not the time to be making stylistic decisions. You’re not here to compete in a pageant, anyway. What you need to do is fix that damn thing and fast.

You roll up your sleeves, grab your notepad, and open it on a new page. You pick up your p-

Where’s your pen?

You begin searching the table for your missing item, picking up drone components and putting them back in an unruly manner.

Maybe it rolled off the table!

You kneel on the floor, furiously searching for your pen as if you’d lost your most treasured asset. Where did it go? It can’t just grow legs and walk away! It must be here, somewhere.

You stumble as you rise to your feet, bumping your head on the table’s corner. Dizzy and frustrated, you stay on all fours, attempting to calm yourself with every ounce of dignity you have left.

Until you ultimately give up. So much for the confidence boost you tried to give yourself a few moments ago. You roll around and sit on the floor, drawing your knees close to your chest and burying your face in them as you let out a long, deep sigh.

“Is that part of the repair process, soldier?” Ghost asks as he re-enters the room, “do you grieve the drone first before you glue it back together?”

Today, of all days, he decided to act like an asshole.

“I misplaced my pen, Lieutenant,” you reply, still seated on the floor.

“You’re crying because you misplaced your pen.” He repeats in a deep, monotonous voice.

“I’m not cr- forget it.” You sigh defeated.

You can’t tell him what’s going on inside you. He’ll never understand. Ghost could take a bullet to the shoulder and still manage to climb a mountain while you’re whining about a minor inconvenience.

“Get up.” He commands, and you follow his orders. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and attempt to stand as straight as possible.

He stares at you with those interrogative eyes of his and slides something from across the table. You look down at the purple-wrapped rectangle in front of you.

A chocolate bar.

“I know what’s up,” he says, shrugging as he looks at the chocolate, “you tend to be like that a few days before.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “How do you know?”

“I keep a log,” he explains. “I might be confident enough setting up an ambush in the middle of the desert, but I don’t push my luck with you.”

You crack a smile and accept the chocolate. “Thank you, Ghost,” you mutter, eyeing the piece of candy. He keeps a log, huh? What a guy.

“About that pen you were looking for,” he continues, “it’s in that patty of yours,” he explains and points at you.

In the what of yours??? You stand perplexed by his last statement until he gestures toward the back of his head. You mimic his actions and chuckle in embarrassment as you realise what he’s referring to. But of course! You used the pen to secure your hair. You exhale in relief and pick the pen off to set it on the notepad.

“You’re a lifesaver, Simon.” You reply.

“Keep your gratitude for the battlefield, soldier,” he adds dismissively. He’s obviously flattered, but he’ll never confess it. “Now tell me, how’s your back doing?” He asks, “still in pain?”

You nod. “Hurts like a motherfucker, sir.”

“Let me see,” he says, and you lift your hair up to expose the back of your neck. He moves in closer to get a better look, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His fingers are gentle as he works his way down your neck, kneading the soreness and pain away with skill. You wince as you feel his touch, but the pain is nothing compared to what it was before he began to work his magic.

“Oh, and, uh, Lieutenant?” You whisper softly, almost inaudibly, as you feel the tension leaving your body.

“Hm?” He murmurs, his strong hands now carefully massaging your shoulders.

“It’s called a bun,” you say with a smirk, “not a patty.”

———————————————————————

[revehae]

behind closed doors

pairing ↠ haechan x you x jeno

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, slight noncon, (uncreative) degradation, unprotected sex (i literally forgot about the existence of condoms, oopsies), brief choking, slapping, posessive!jeno

summary ↠ to the world, you're an amazing daughter and sister who's surely only awaited upon by heaven. to your stepbrothers, you're nothing more than an actress and a whore with a secret to keep.

wc ↠ 4.5k

don't like it, don't read.

the rules set in stone for you - all three of you - were unspoken, though clear. the line was drawn and you were expected to adhere to it. 

to say you tried would be debatable. you were not as naive and oblivious as you seemed, that much was apparent to your step-brothers. you played the role well; the docile, loving sister and daughter, that followed the line drawn before her with straight steps. never gave your parents any problems, and if anything, your devotion to your academics and lack of evident rebellious nature was the sheer opposite of that. they would give you that much. but they knew all too well that behind an attentively-crafted character, a façade if not anything else, you were merely a renegade of convention.

as were they.

that was how it all began - with your façade being beaten to the ground until only your true self stood. haechan was the first to catch on. for a moment, you managed to have even him fooled by your acts of naivety. you never seemed to notice how lewd your actions appeared in the leering eyes of a man, even a man that was, by law, your brother.

haechan could name every last thing that drove him crazy. when you wore shirts around the house you sometimes tended to be braless, and your nipples would press through the fabric for a couple of reasons. other times, your tits would simply bounce if you moved around too much. how some of your underwear was always left on top of your laundry basket when it was his week to do the laundry. your innocent actions that he couldn’t help but perceive as dirty, or the skimpy clothes that left little to imagination. haechan was certain he saw your cleavage more often than he saw his parents. and you all lived in the same house. 

and that was to be brief. either you were really, truly oblivious, or you were doing this on purpose.

obviously, it was the latter.

it didn’t take haechan long to figure out. honestly, he tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but there was a creeping suspicion in his chest that kept him on his toes. and he was certain of your motive one day. 

that night, you asked him if he wanted to watch some movies with you. that in itself wasn’t suspicious - you loved your family bonding time - and haechan didn’t turn the offer down. but you were again braless in one of his t-shirts that you had borrowed a while back and had yet to return. which was fine by him; he liked seeing you in his clothes, not unbeknownst to you. you snuggled close to him, seemingly innocently, but he saw the poor attempt of hiding your grin when you noticed him shift.

and then a couple movies later, you fell asleep, your head falling against him. he took advantage of the opportunity, letting you slip entirely into slumber before gently lying you against the sofa. slowly but surely, he slipped your underwear down to your ankles, looking attentively at your face as he pushed your thighs apart just enough to move between. it didn’t surprise him in the slightest to find that you had already soaked through your panties. you seemed distracted throughout the movie, and by now it was very obvious what was plaguing your mind.

haechan tugged at his own clothes and eventually slid into you. he tried to be slow, to draw it out, and at first he did. he held his breath during the first couple of thrusts, but ultimately couldn’t help but let out a sound or three. that was what roused you. you blinked, not entirely comprehending what was happening until your eyes focused on the moving figure between you.

“hyuck, wha… stop it-“ 

haechan didn’t hesitate to cut you off, placing one of his palms squarely over your mouth. “shut up,” he said underneath his breath, watching you weakly squirm. “don’t act like you weren’t begging for this.”

you gulped, chest heaving. honestly, he had to commend you. if he hadn’t known that you were bullshiting him right now, he would have sincerely believed that your round eyes gleamed of genuine innocence and surprise. but you were nothing if not a performer.

haechan’s hand moved from your mouth to under your - his - shirt, that had already ridden up your stomach. your lower half was completely exposed to the air, and he went up to fondle with your breasts, moving at the impact of his every thrust. you stifled your sounds, not yet wanting to give him that pleasure. you could tell he already had you figured out, though, if his words were any indication.

“jeno’s down the hall,” you whispered, biting at the fear you pretended was installed within you. if anything, you would have liked it if he caught you - if he joined you. but that was a different, later chapter of the story.

haechan didn’t buy it, obviously enough, although he replied, “then, you better be real quiet for me, got it?”

you nodded in response. the most amusing part, to haechan, was that you hadn’t even attempted to fight him away. you didn’t even try to deny wanting this all along. he assumed that you would have likely put some effort into pretending as if this wasn’t what you were subtly working your way towards, but you didn’t.

save for your fake surprise. of course, you weren’t shocked to find him buried between your legs. you knew what you were doing; you had been trying to lure him there this whole time. his hungry eyes and evident arousal never went unnoticed by you. he tried to hold back, maybe because he wasn’t always sure, but he was no better than you. you knew men, and before anything else, haechan was simply that. a man could never resist his temptations.

“wore this to fuck with me, didn’t you?” he asked, voice low, though he already knew the answer. you resisted a grin; of course you did. haechan wasn’t subtle; not that he intended to be. “would do anything to get a dick in you.”

you shook your head in denial, tears emerging in your eyes. not out of pain or discomfort - as the slight addition of that was your pleasure - but out of relief. you were so relieved that the wait was over, and god, was it worth it.

haechan ran a hand through his hair and chuckled quietly. “no? so you didn’t wear my shirt on purpose? didn’t do it to make this easier for me? you don’t make sure i can see your tits every goddamn day like some kinda whore? yeah right, you fucking slut.”

you couldn’t battle the moan, clenching around him tightly. it was your dream to have him talk to you like that. 

“there you go,” he said, amused by your failure to conceal your pleasure. “you were laying all up on me, making sure i could feel you. you aren’t fucking slick.”

you whimpered, “i‘m close, hyuck,” his words very evidently getting to you. his efforts to wear at your cracking façade finally rewarded him with the treasure lying beneath the surface.

“yeah, is that what you want? you want me to make you cum?” haechan teased, watching the way you bobbed your head needily in response. 

he tried to conceal his laughter, given jeno was only just down the hall, probably fast asleep. in spite of the fact that it was late, it was a weekday. miraculously, neither of your parents were home, and if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to keep this a secret from his brother he would have gone stupid with you. it wasn’t that haechan was startled or even intimidated by the thought of jeno discovering what was happening right under his nose - he knew his brother well, details that even you couldn’t imagine - or even acting out of selfishness. even if not right away, he knew jeno would eventually catch on. he was always good at sniffing out lies and deception. but haechan simply wanted him to learn for himself, feasting on his brother’s inevitable reactions.

“cum,” haechan commanded, his voice hardly above a whisper. “before i don’t let you.”

you ultimately did reach your climax, convulsing underneath his body. you bit your lip, and too back a cry of your step-brother’s name. it was straight out of a dream, more specifically an erotic one, and you were convinced that you were dreaming as you lay there weakly, watching haechan continue to use your body.

haechan came subsequently, although not by much. in favor of not ruining the couch and leaving a trail, he pulled out, resorting to finishing himself with his fist and shooting spurts of cum on your face.

he didn’t hesitate to whip out his phone, not even bothering to ask permission to photograph you and your only warning was a “say cheese” before he was snapping photos of you. you glanced at him, almost panicked, and though he couldn’t tell if it was out of genuine concern, he assured, “don’t worry, baby. no one will see how much of a whore you are except me - for now.”

for now.

haechan was kind enough to help you clean yourself up before he left, but he didn’t leave without firmly mentioning, “this won’t be the last time.”

bearing that knowledge in mind, it was difficult to fall back asleep that night.

true to his word, that night wasn’t the last time, but the beginning of your sexcapades. it wasn’t a one-time or two-time thing; it was happening more frequently than you could count with your fingers and toes combined. haechan became accustomed swiftly, never missing his chance to drag you away for a fucking whenever you could get away with it. if it was only the two of you in the house, rest assured you would be fucking like hounds. sometimes he’d slip into your room in the middle of the night, not always while you were awake. whenever he could get his hands on you, he would.

haechan wasn’t the only needy one, though. of course not; that had already been established. more often than not, you found yourself wet and begging for his touch. your acts of seduction didn’t end there and you’d take it up a notch, sometimes walking into his room in merely a towel after a shower and asking if you could borrow one of his shirts (nevermind the fact that you were gradually developing a collection of his shirts and hoodies that you had no intention of returning). if the water glistening on your skin wasn’t enough, maybe once or twice you had dropped the towel, innocently insisting that it wouldn’t be a problem because he had already seen everything, right?

needless to say, it would end with you on his bed.

all of the sneaking around would have gone on for weeks by now. no one had caught on - that, you were almost certain. you had been doing so well, learning how to keep quiet in spite of how difficult it was. your image was still steady.

it was late when you stepped into the kitchen. yet again, your parents were out on business, and it was solely you and your step-brothers, who they expected to take care of you. nonetheless, you were confident that they were asleep, given the hour.

but when you felt someone wrap their arms around you from behind, hands steadily falling to knead your ass, you realized you were wrong. guess haechan’s not sleep, you thought, probably been up playing video games. all without sparing him a glance, you very lightheartedly told him, “haechan, stop.”

“haechan, hm?”

on a dime, you whirled around and froze. you knew your brothers’ voices’ very well, and that was certainly not haechan’s.

it was jeno that you were faced with when you turned around, who had his hands in his pockets now. he tilted his head. “you let haechan touch you like that?”

“no—”

whatever semblance of calm jeno held dissipated on a dime; he shut the refrigerator and roughly pressed you into the surface, his breath heavy on your neck as he whispered, “i don’t like being lied to - you know that.”

you had no response to offer him. jeno had genuinely caught you off-guard, and though you expected some type of confrontation eventually, not now, not like this. instead, you swallowed hard, half-feigning the fear in your eyes as you struggled to hold eye contact with him.

jeno basked in the way your body trembled, unhurriedly trailing his eyes and fingers down your figure. somehow you simultaneously amused and angered him. part of him was entertained to see your body react with something like terror, but the other was busting at the seams with ire as he noticed you were wearing his brother’s hoodie. it always pissed him off to see you in haechan’s clothes.

as cliché as it sounded, you felt like prey at the mercy of a predator, waiting for him to make his move while being painfully aware of the fact that you could never counter it even if you wanted to. he began to steadily roll up the hoodie with a single finger, and though you attempted to swat his hand away, he yanked your weak hands away with ease, pinning them above your head. it was so pathetically futile that it had to be deliberate. “at least try to be convincing,” jeno teased, using his other hand to continue his movements.

the pace was tormenting; he took his sweet, precious time to roll up your - haechan’s - hoodie, more and more of your flesh being exposed to the cool air piece by piece until your bare chest was left wide open. “nothing underneath?” jeno mimicked a gasp of mock surprise, groping your breast in his palm. “you wore this for haechan, too, huh?”

the thought of what would happen if you continuously lied to his face piqued your curiosity, however you weren’t sure if you wanted to test your luck yet. instead, you bobbed your head, whimpering at the feeling of his hands.

“thought you were a good girl,” jeno sighed. if it wasn’t for the fact that he had been onto you for a while now, all of this would have been shocking. you maintained such a clean image that no one would have suspected a girl like you had such a filthy secret. except for jeno; he found you as obvious as could be.

“i am,” you insisted, but you knew in your heart it wasn’t all that true.

“liar,” he hissed, shoving his hand down your shorts. you bit your lip when he cupped you through your underwear, trying your best to suppress a noise. “if you were good, you wouldn’t be wet for me.”

that alone should have been humiliating, and it was, but it being your stepbrother who had you aroused didn’t exactly stop either of you. any of you. you tried to combat a moan when you felt his fingers pressing against you, but you couldn’t resist.

which broke the last of jeno’s resolve. he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you upstairs, ignoring you telling him to “slow down,” or that he was holding you “too tight,” or that “it hurts.” you knew no pain. it hurt knowing that haechan had gotten to you before he even got the chance. and tonight, he had something to prove.

jeno wasn’t very gentle with you from that point forward. he forced you against the wall - specifically the one adjacent to haechan’s bedroom wall. he was going to use your body to make a statement, and a very loud one at that. you squirmed in his hold, but you were helpless; years of physical activity paid off on his end and your attempts to fight him off - whether you were genuinely using all of your strength or not - were effortlessly overpowered. god, was that arousing. jeno gripped you by the neck and threatened, “behave, or i’ll hurt you more than i have to.”

that made you instantly still and jeno continued to pry at your clothes until he was satisfied. you didn’t wear anything much, merely the hoodie, the least lengthiest of shorts, and a pair of panties. he didn’t hesitate to free himself from his sweats, stroking himself fully hard in his fist. you could only eye him with so much pent-up desire, begging him to end the wait.

jeno had also been a subject of your depraved fantasies, although you thought that he would have been significantly harder to crack. which was why you very strategically went for haechan first. jeno had a jealousy issue that he masked as playing the role of the protective, older brother. in that sense, he was not all too different from you. but you were aware that he despised seeing his little stepsister with other men and haechan was no exception to that. your plan was soiled - you intended to make him jealous by going out with one of his friends - but you weren’t necessarily complaining. the sooner you could get his dick in you, the better.

jeno lifted you against the wall and when you felt his dick brushing against your folds, you held on to your breath for dear life. “prove to me that you’re a good girl by taking it,” he told you, forcing himself into you with one sharp thrust.

and jeno fucked you right against that wall, doing everything in his power to make everything you were doing at the moment painfully obvious and loud; ensuring your body was thrashing against the wall, slapping you anywhere to make you squeal, or thrusting harshly into you to earn a cry from between your lips. haechan had to be awake, and you could only pray your neighbors weren’t. as gratifying as this was to jeno, he was again met with ire upon the realization that you given this experience away. not only was being inside you a pleasure, feeling the way you squeezed around him like your life depended on it, but outwardly, it was something else. he adored the way you were so pathetically helpless against him, incapable of saving yourself from being used. most especially by someone who was expected to look after you. 

in a way, he was. but it wasn’t very conventional. he wanted you, and he wanted to be the only one who dare got to have you.

there was a bit of tension amongst the three of you that following morning. neither were surprised to see you ignore it or continuing to be innocent. you sprung into the living room with a spring in your step - obviously cheerful about something -  and greeted them joyously, kissing their cheeks as usual. if you caught the mood in the room you had suddenly intruded, you didn’t show any sign, but there was really no way you hadn’t. the look on their faces was unignorable.

haechan pulled you down onto his lap, ignoring your tiny noise of surprise and attaching his lips to your neck. “mornin, princess,” he whispered.

your gaze met the sinister, exasperated one of jeno’s, eyes boring holes through the flesh of you and haechan. it was paralyzing; you could only sit there and swallow hard, shifting your eyes anywhere else.

“i see you two had fun last night without me,” haechan remarked, biting back a snicker. he could tell without sparing a glance that his brother was not pleased.

“we did,” jeno replied curtly. “did you expect an invitation?”

“would’ve been nice,” chirped haechan. “it’s all good, though. we have a lot of fun on our own, too. isn’t that right, princess?” he grinned, his eyes on you the whole time. meanwhile, he was rubbing your bare thigh - courtesy of your less than lengthy shirts - and you had to bite your lip, begging yourself not to make a sound. jeno was already on the brink of breaking something.

instead, you very reluctantly bobbed your head, not daring to glance at jeno although you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him looking at you.

haechan crooned, “use your words.”

you gulped before doing so, wetting your throat that had so suddenly gone dry during the past couple of minutes. “yeah. yeah, we do,” you stammered, doing everything in your power to avoid looking at your other stepbrother.

jeno couldn’t bear it any longer and stormed off, and you knew that you were in for it tonight.

everything continued this way - haechan would be indifferent towards your affairs concerning jeno, but he’d deliberately make his brother jealous for the sake of it. in response, jeno’s temper would manifest in the rough manners he used you, fucking every hole of your body with no remorse. it was your very definition of heaven. going back and forth between your brothers was, at one point in time, merely a dream to you.

ultimately, however, jeno’s sudden discovery didn’t deter you from your original plans. you had no clue how he maintained his composure before then - because obviously he had been aware for a while - but you were tempted to poke the dragon. and you did.

“and where the fuck are you going?” jeno asked when you strutted into the living room, checking your makeup for the fiftieth time in your pocket mirror. you were dolled up, wearing the skimpiest dress with every level of you styled. which, paired with the frequency of which you were re-checking your appearance, could have meant only one thing at this hour.

your mom pointed at him from the island and yelled, “language, jeno!”

haechan snickered and you stifled a laugh of your own, but not for that reason; because you knew he wasn’t pleased with you. “what’s it look like? i’m going on a date, dummy,” you replied, sticking out your tongue. 

“don’t talk to your brother like that, y/n,” chided your mom, hands on her hips. she had always pushed the family agenda, though neither of you were technically related, save for you and your mother and them and their father.

“sorry, mom,” you apologized, forcing your most genuine tone. normally you would have been on your best behavior, but you were very intent on provoking jeno. and though he did well at concealing it - courtesy of your mother’s presence for once - you saw right through him and knew he was seething at the core.

haechan seemingly was intent on joining your little scheme, and pressed with a stupid smile on his face, “a date with who?”

“you guys know mark,” you replied to haechan, but you were looking straight at jeno, looking for a crack in his calm demeanor. bearing in mind the potential of his anger, memories flashing in your head, it was almost scary how collected he was; or seemed. “he should be here in a couple of minutes.”

mark was a mutual friend of theirs. you were almost surprised he hadn’t mentioned to either of your stepbrothers that he was taking you out on a date, but it worked perfectly. you got to capture jeno’s reaction in real-time.

“lee scored you?” haechan, incredulous, laughed, like it was the most bizarre thing he had ever heard. jeno laughed too, but not out of amusement. it was anger. “man, good luck. you’re gonna need it.”

you giggled. for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t mark he was implying you would need luck with. “please. i’ll be fine.”

the doorbell rang merely moments later, and while haechan told you to have fun and your mother told you not to stay out too late, jeno was deadly silent. part of you was scared when you got into that car with mark, but the other was thrilled.

when you got back home, all of the lights were out and your parents' cars were yet again gone. after kissing mark goodnight, you turned your key into the lock, and it wasn’t until he had pulled off that you felt arms wrap around you. you shrieked, and their hand went over your mouth. “quiet,” jeno growled in your ear.

you complied. with jeno’s palm over your mouth, it would have been useless not to, anyways. “walk,” he ordered, and you did as told, letting him lead you upstairs. you winded up in his bedroom and only then did he release you, but there haechan was waiting, tossing a baseball into the air impatiently. that honestly took you by surprise.

“you sure took your sweet time,” haechan spoke directly to you, finally sitting the ball down. you assumed he had been waiting for a while now. “thought your mom told you not to stay out too late. or did you do that on purpose?”

from the mischievous smile on his face, you had a feeling he was trying to get you into more trouble. you didn’t answer, knowing you were in enough already. but that was the fun part. 

jeno pushed you onto the bed, resulting in another surprised noise from you. “jeno-”

“i don’t want to hear it,” jeno interjected, lunging forward to unzip your dress. the moment you tried to stop him, haechan reached for your arms and held you down. now you saw what this was; they were teaming up against you. “i was being lenient about you and haechan, you know - let you two fuck like rabbits all around this place and didn’t say a word - but now you’ve really tested my kindness. you talk slick to me, go on a date with one of my friends dressed like a whore, and then come back late. did all that to piss me off, didn’t you?”

“no, i-“

jeno slapped your cheek. “lie again.”

by now, there were tears brimming your eyes. you could only look to haechan for mercy, as if he was any better, but being of the same blood, he and jeno were as similar as they were different. what he lacked in possessiveness he compensated with his potential to be just as cruel whenever he wanted to be. maybe indirectly, he was being cruel this whole time. surely there was no way he wasn’t aware of how jeno reacted every time he noticed the two of you fucking around.

jeno seemed to notice this and laughed dead in your face. “haechan’s not gonna save you, babe. you think he’s any better than me? he wouldn’t be here right now if we weren’t the same.”

that you knew. it didn’t take a genius to tell that haechan and jeno were essentially cut from the same cloth. the main difference that you could pin was that haechan had a more verbal violence, while jeno leaned towards physical. though that didn’t mean they didn’t teeter across those borders.

“he’s right, ya’know,” haechan snickered. “this is what little sluts like you get.”

jeno took advantage of haechan holding you down, moving to remove your panties. and for someone who was squirming so much as if you didn’t want any of this, they were drenched. jeno could only chuckle at that. 

“no, no - ‘m sorry,” you balked, but jeno ignored you and haechan shook his head. 

“you’re not sorry yet,” haechan told you, ominous as ever. “but you’re gonna be.”

you were counting on it.

[awearywritersworld]

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader summary: you're cuddling in bed with your very sleepy boyfriend, except he's not exactly your very sleepy boyfriend w/c: .75k tags/warnings: somewhat suggestive but not smut. praise. "good girl" but no other reference to gender. fluff. "kitten" i can't help myself. aged up!yuuji a/n: idek! wrote this in an attempt to get inspired and to let everyone know im still alive, kicking, and most importantly, suffering from sukuna brain rot. currently rewatching so this is brought to u by s1e4. masterlist

Your favorite place to be, even after all this time, is Yuuji's arms. His embrace is warm and inviting, and it never fails to put your mind at ease, even with Sukuna in the picture. You've known him for as long as you've known Yuuji, but his snide, snarky comments never deterred your love for his vessel.

Though, after many long months, his commentary became more... unassuming? At least when you were around, anyway. The first time it happened, you'd asked Yuuji if he knew where you left your phone.

"It's on the couch," another voice answered.

You and your boyfriend stared at each other with raised brows before your eyes shifted down to ever abiding mouth on his cheek.

"What?" Sukuna actually grumbled before disappearing.

It's been a while since then. You're resting against Yuuji's chest, his arm snaked around your waist, his breathing deep and steady. Sleep nearly overcomes you, but his chest vibrates with words you're not quite able to make out and it just barely tugs you back to consciousness.

You hum drowsily, your hands grabbing at his sweatshirt in a weak attempt to pull him nearer.

"That's it," he encourages, drawing you impossibly closer.

The small noises you make as you situate yourself have the man exhaling just a little more harshly than before.

"Want me to praise you?" he offers, a sly edge to his voice. It's only then your mind registers that something is... off. This voice is more intense than the one you're used to. "It's obvious you like it when the brat tells you what a good girl you are."

Your eyes snap open, the top of your head nearly colliding with his chin as you pull back from him. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you're unable to help the small gasp that passes your lips as you take in your boyfriend's changed appearance.

"W-What the hell, Sukuna?"

There's a lazy smirk on his face and his hand settles on your hip like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"He's right, you know."

"What are you even on about? It's too late for this shit" you remark, free hand rubbing at your eyelids in an attempt to wake yourself up.

Despite Sukuna never having randomly appeared before, you're not intimidated. Well, not terribly so, even if the man before you is of infamous legend. These days his voice is a constant in your life and that keeps you from registering the possible (probable?) danger of your current situation.

"I was trying to tell you how pretty you are."

"Oh," you squeak out, warmth creeping from your neck toward your cheeks. He chuckles, but you're uncertain whether or not he's teasing you.

His fingers trail up your waist, his touch just barely grazing the skin there before catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hm, and so sweet too." His thumb extends to brush against your bottom lip.

The contact leaves your stomach swirling with one too many emotions and your hand reaches up to his bicep, as if the action might stop anything else from being said or done.

It doesn't.

He moves his arm from your grasp, but only so that he can wrap his fingers around your wrist. You finally meet his lidded gaze as he brings the inside of your wrist to his lips, peppering a few light kisses there. "So that means you're a very good girl, don't you think?"

His tone is even and low, unfeigned in a way that makes you shudder. The whole situation has you shifting restlessly and averting your gaze.

"Why are you...?" Your voice is barely above a whisper and you're incapable of figuring out a way to describe what was happening at the present moment.

He takes a few seconds before answering, studying how you've pulled your bottom lip between your teeth with a furrowed brow.

His voice quiets to match your own. "Is Yuuji the only one who can concern himself with your happiness?"

You attempt to mask the surprise that threatens your features, but still glance up at him with widened eyes. A momentary silence falls between the two of you and there's an air of suspense to it.

"I never said that."

That must be answer enough, as he tugs you back to his chest once more. You let him envelop you with ease and tangle your legs between his.

"Then stop worrying and go back to sleep, kitten."

[ervotica]

i’m on the run with you (my sweet love)

pairing; rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings; sorta dark? but not really bc this is just rafe in character lol, established relationship, rafe is insane but also cute (i <3 deranged men), rafe is violent towards r and he cries a lot, 1k words

summary; you've reached the end of your tether with rafe's bad behaviour. just how far will he go when you try to leave?

He's so loud. It rings in your ears even as you walk away from him, trying to put distance between yourself and his growling; he's almost animalistic as he stumbles against the concrete sidewalk and grapples for purchase against your bare arm, a desperate attempt to get you to stay. Rafe has never been one to ask nicely for things. His rings leave a cold bite on your forearm and you sob, snatching out of his grasp even as he wails and cries.

"Rafe, stop," you're begging, pleading with him not to make a scene. He's flushed pink right down to his toes as he shakes, hands reaching out for you in a way that almost makes you reconsider leaving.

"You can't leave me," he says. Plain and simple, as though it's a fact. He's incredulous that the thought would even cross your mind in the first place- let alone that you're brave enough to try. "You can't."

"Rafe, this is unstable. I can't live like this anymore." Tears clog in your waterline and you sniffle and gasp, the back of your hand coming up to press against your open mouth. "I don't wanna do this. You've left me no other choice."

"No-no other choice?" he laughs through tears and grit teeth, an odd sound that gets lodged in his throat and then pushed out with a sob. "No other choice?"

He's alight with fury, pacing back and forth, gnawing on his fingernails as his hands flex, desperate to grab hold of you.

"Stop, you're scaring me," you murmur; stepping backwards away from him, a rock wedges in the sole of your sneaker and you lose balance. Just as you're about to hit the hard ground, Rafe surges forward, a thick arm wrapping around your waist and pressing you to his chest. The heat is emanating off of him in waves, coursing over you as his iron grip tightens.

"I'm scaring you, huh?" You're trembling as he whispers in that snarling way that he does- the tone that's usually directed at others, but never you. You don't like being on the receiving end of his wrath. "There'd be nothin' to be scared of if you just did as you were told, baby. Why do you insist on making everything so fuckin' difficult for me?"

You start to really cry then; in the middle of the street, sputtering in fits and starts, sagging in Rafe's hold when he shushes you and presses his palm to the top of your head to draw you into him.

"Shh, shh, I know," he mumbles, a thick bicep drawing tight as he wraps himself around your neck, quiet words vibrating against your skin.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" you wheeze against his shoulder, the cotton of his jersey soft as you rub your face on it in an effort to hide. "Why does it have to be like this?"

"It doesn't. It doesn't, okay? Let's go home and we can talk about this."

His arms shift your weight until he's lifting you, hooking your legs up and over him and carrying you to the car parked a little way away. In one last futile attempt to free yourself, you kick out, squirming.

Not that it makes much difference; he has the passenger door opened despite your resistance and then he's trying to force you in.

"No! I don't want to. Rafe, stop it."

"Baby, get in the car."

There's an edge to his voice and you know if you push him much further he's going to snap. He's like a coiled spring, and he'll lash out at whoever's closest.

"No, please," you sniffle. "I don't wanna go."

"Get in the damn car!" he screams, and you cry out as he throws you through the gap; your head hits the top of the door with a thump and you moan, curling in on yourself on the leather seat.

He slams the door and stomps around the front, brow knit, lips pursed as he climbs into the driver's seat.

He takes a breath. The mist starts to clear from his eyes. You're still doubled over, fingers splayed over the forming bruise on your forehead.

"Angel," he murmurs, reaching for you. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You swat his hand away and wince at the throbbing in your temple. His breath quickens and you can feel how he convulses; from experience, he's around 3 minutes from a total meltdown.

"Rafe, calm down," you say, blindly reaching for him to placate his temper, if nothing else. "It's okay, I'm fine."

He coughs and snivels, clenched fists pressed to his eyes to conceal the tears. He's frozen with them, silent as he sobs and brings his head up to slam it against the steering wheel. You swivel in your seat, hands pressing to the sides of his neck in an attempt to keep him still.

"No, baby, no," you sniff. "Come here. I'm sorry."

He starts to turn towards you, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed as he hiccups. And then he's climbing right over the armrest and into your lap. It's comical, really; this huge, hulking boy crawling into your arms like a puppy.

He curls around you, laying between your thighs, his legs bent awkwardly in the footwell as he presses his face to the hollow of your throat.

"I'm sorry," he cries. "I just love you so much, I don't want you to go." His voice cracks and he wraps his arms around your middle, slipping cold fingers beneath your t-shirt to feel your bare skin.

"I'm not going," you murmur. Your lip quivers as you stave off tears. "But we need to get this under control, Rafe. I need you to try to get better."

"I will. I will, I promise. I'll be better for you."

You tilt his chin up and his watering eyes meet yours. You slot your lips between his and sigh when his whole body softens against you.

"I love you," you tell him. "We'll get this under control, okay?"

You suppose only time will tell.