#this is fine (shaking with barely contained rage)

[rafecameronssl4t]

Game of Control || NFL Player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

Summary: Your ex who plays on the opposing team taunts you, prompting Rafe to confront him, dominating him on the field; proving his protectiveness and love.

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,301

A/n: happy new year to those who celebrate ❤️

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

The roar of the stadium crowd reverberated through the tunnel, the excitement and tension of game day buzzing in the air. Your boots clicked against the concrete floor as you made your way toward the field where the Cowboys were set to take on one of their biggest rivals, the sequined blue and white uniform catching the fluorescent lighting.

It was your element—the energy of the crowd, the spotlight, the exhilaration of performing as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Rafe was already on the field warming up. You'd caught his eye earlier during pregame routines, and he'd sent you a quick wink, a hint of the smirk you knew all too well. He thrived on the attention, your attention specifically.

But so did you in your own way—a dynamic that sometimes made your relationship fiery but always magnetic. Just as you were about to turn a corner into the light of the field, a hand reached out and grasped your arm. You froze, spinning on your heel to face the figure. “Y/n,” a voice said, too familiar and too unwanted. You froze for a moment before turning.

There he was—Ethan. Your ex. Tall, smug, and unfortunately wearing the rival team’s uniform. The bold colours of his jersey were a sharp contrast to the dim tunnel, and his smirk made your stomach churn. “What do you want?” you asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms across your chest. Ethan leaned against the wall, blocking your path with ease. “Relax. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” you deadpanned, attempting to step around him. He moved to block you again, his grin widening. “I see you’re still loving the spotlight,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as his eyes roamed over your uniform. “All dolled up, shaking those pom-poms, stealing the show. Bet you like this, don’t you? Being the centre of attention.” You felt your jaw tighten, heat rising to your face, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was anger.

“Move, Ethan. I’m not interested in whatever this is.” “Come on, Y/n,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a faux whisper. “You always liked people watching you, didn’t you? I mean, why else would you stay with Cameron? Must be nice, being his little trophy.” You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to stay calm. Ethan’s words were a calculated jab, meant to get under your skin.

“You don’t know anything about my relationship, so keep your opinions to yourself,” you said firmly. “Oh, I know plenty,” Ethan retorted, his smirk growing. “Like how guys like him only care about what’s on the outside. Cameron must be loving the arm candy, huh? But hey, if you’re happy playing the part, who am I to judge?” Anger flared hot in your chest, but before you could respond, a voice interrupted, deep and dripping with fury.

“What the hell is going on here?” Both you and Ethan turned to see Rafe striding toward you, his jaw set and his eyes dark with barely contained rage. Clad in his Dallas Cowboys gear, he looked every inch the intimidating force you knew him to be on the field. Ethan straightened, his smirk faltering slightly but still intact. “Relax, Cameron,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just catching up with an old friend.” Rafe didn’t even spare him a glance. His eyes locked on you, scanning your face as if to check for any sign of discomfort or distress. “You okay?” You nodded quickly, the tightness in your chest easing slightly at his presence. “I’m fine. He was just leaving.” Rafe’s gaze shifted to Ethan, his lips curling into a cold smile. “You heard her. Leave.”

Ethan held his ground, clearly trying to appear unfazed. “Relax, man. We were just catching up.” Rafe took another step forward, his height making the space between them feel smaller, more suffocating. “You don’t touch her, and you don’t talk to her. Ever again.” There was a long pause, the tension thick enough to cut. Ethan glanced between the two of you, then finally took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

He brushed past Rafe, but not before throwing a final comment over his shoulder. “See you out there.” Rafe stood motionless, his fists clenched at his sides, until Ethan disappeared into the tunnel. When Rafe finally turned back to you, his expression softened, though the tension in his body remained. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice quieter this time.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, placing a hand on his arm. “Don’t let him get to you.” His jaw ticked, and you could see the battle waging in his mind. Finally, he nodded, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “Go do your thing,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I’ll take care of him.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already walking away, his broad shoulders tense as he headed toward the field.

~

From the sidelines, you could feel the shift in Rafe the moment the game began. He was locked in, his focus razor-sharp—but it wasn’t just about football. Every time Ethan touched the ball, Rafe was there, delivering brutal, bone-crushing tackles that sent the crowd into a frenzy. It wasn’t long before the tension between the two boiled over.

In the second quarter, after a particularly vicious hit that left Ethan sprawled on the turf, he shoved Rafe as he got up, muttering something under his breath. Rafe didn’t back down. Instead, he said something that was lost in the chaos of the game. But the expression on Rafe’s face said it all—this was personal.

The referees stepped in before it could escalate further, but the warning had been delivered. From that moment on, it was clear that Rafe wasn’t just playing to win—he was playing to make a point. Ethan looked rattled, and Rafe looked like he was just getting started.

~

After the game, you waited for Rafe near the locker room, your heart still racing from the intensity of the match. When he finally appeared, his jersey was streaked with dirt and sweat, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to go that hard,” you said softly, though your tone lacked conviction. Rafe stopped in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yes, I did,” he said simply.

You let out a shaky breath, your emotions finally catching up to you. “Rafe, he’s not worth it.” “He disrespected you,” Rafe said, his voice hard. “I’m not gonna let that slide.” Your heart ached at the protectiveness in his tone, but there was something deeper beneath it—a frustration, a vulnerability he rarely let show. “I can handle myself,” you said, reaching out to touch his arm.

“I know you can,” he replied, his voice softening. “But you don’t have to. Not when I’m here.” The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, without warning, Rafe pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “You’re mine,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and raw.

“Nobody talks to you like that. Nobody.” You buried your face in his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm the storm inside you. “I love you,” you whispered, the words carrying every ounce of gratitude and affection you felt for him. Rafe pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand coming up to cup your face. “I love you too,” he said, his voice steady.

“And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. Always.” In that moment, the chaos of the game, the tension of the day—it all faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, standing together in the aftermath, stronger than ever.

[lazy-ahh]

DEVOTION

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

a love that’s more teeth than tenderness—jason todd doesn’t know how to love you quietly. it’s in the traps he rigs around your apartment, the way his hands shake when he pulls you close, the growl in his voice when you’re five minutes late. he’d raze gotham to keep you safe, and the worst part? you’d let him. you’d help him burn it down.

taglist @kasarian , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

you step into the apartment, kicking off your shoes with a little more force than necessary—because honestly, who has the energy to bend down after a long day?—when you hear it. a soft click under your foot. you freeze for half a second before rolling your eyes. another one of jason’s stupid security measures.

it’s just a pressure sensor, harmless unless you’re some unlucky bastard trying to break in while jason’s out doing whatever morally questionable shit he calls "work." and yeah, okay, maybe it’s overkill. maybe the six other traps he’s rigged around the place already cover every possible entry point. but that’s jason for you—paranoid, overprotective, and completely incapable of leaving well enough alone.

your phone buzzes in your pocket—third time this hour. you don’t even have to look to know it’s him. of course it’s him. because god forbid you go more than twenty minutes without him checking in like you’re some helpless civilian who doesn’t know how to handle themselves. (which, for the record, you definitely do. you’ve thrown hands with worse than some two-bit gotham thugs.)

you sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. just fondness. the kind that settles warm and stubborn in your chest, no matter how much you pretend otherwise.

"just checking in," the text reads.

you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. dramatic bastard. but despite yourself, your chest does that stupid, traitorous little squeeze—the one that always happens when he does this overprotective shit. you thumb out a reply before you can overthink it. "i’m fine, jay. just got home."

his answer pings back before you can even lock your phone. "good. lock the door."

no "hey." no "miss you." just straight to the point. typical. you huff out a laugh, but your fingers still brush over the screen like it’s something fragile. god, you’re pathetic.

of course you locked the door. you always lock the damn door—not because you need to (you’ve taken down guys twice your size without breaking a sweat), but because you know what it does to him if you don’t. you’ve seen the way his jaw clenches when he thinks you’re not looking, the way his fingers twitch toward his guns like he’s seconds from bolting back home just to check.

it wasn’t always like this. well, okay—it was, but not this bad. back when he was just your ghost, your shadow, the nameless presence you knew was watching you but could never prove. back when he was still dead to the world, and you were just the idiot who kept visiting his grave every other day like clockwork, talking to a headstone like it could talk back.

(the two of you never talked about what you used to say to that empty plot of dirt. some things are too raw, even for you. but you have a feeling he knows. no, you know he knows.)

then came that night—the muggers, the alley, the way you’d barely rolled your shoulders before he dropped out of the fucking sky like some avenging angel in a leather jacket and a stupid helmet. he’d made quick work of them, all brutal efficiency and barely-contained rage, and you? you just stood there. staring. because you knew.

you’d lunged before he could disappear again—because of course he was trying to disappear, the self-sacrificing bastard—and wrapped your arms around him so tight the plates of his armor dug into your ribs. it hurt, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care, not when his heartbeat was thundering under your palms, not when the smell of gunpowder and leather and him flooded your senses like a punch to the gut.

"it’s you," you’d choked out, voice cracking like you were some heartbroken kid instead of someone who’d spent years pretending they were fine. "you idiot. you absolute idiot, did you really think i wouldn’t know?" your fingers clutched at the back of his jacket, desperate, like if you let go he’d dissolve into smoke. "i’d know you anywhere. in any lifetime. any fucking universe."

he didn't move. didn't breathe. the kind of stillness that wasn't just shock—it was like you'd reached inside his ribs and yanked out whatever scraps of his heart he'd been stupid enough to keep for himself. (as if he hadn't already given you every broken piece years ago, back when you were both too young and too stupid to know how much it would hurt later.)

his breath came out in one jagged gasp, the kind that gets stuck in your throat when you're trying not to sob. for one horrible, endless moment, you could practically feel him shutting down—muscles tensing like he was about to bolt, hands twitching like he wanted to push you away before you realized what a mistake this was. before you realized he was the mistake.

(like hell you'd let him. you wouldn’t have let him. you’d have held on tighter. you’d have crawled after him if you had to. you'd chase him through fucking crime alley if you had to. you'd done it before.)

but then—slowly, so slowly it ached—his hands came up. trembling. hesitant. like he thought you’d vanish if he touched you too hard. when his arms finally locked around you, it wasn’t the desperate, bruising grip you expected. it was reverent. like you were something sacred. like he was afraid he’d wake up and find this was just another cruel dream.

(you didn’t let go. not then. not ever.)

now? now he’s worse. so much worse. like, next-level, should-probably-be-concerning-but-is-weirdly-endearing kind of worse. the apartment's practically booby-trapped enough to give batman pause, your phone blows up every twenty minutes like clockwork, and the way he looks at you? fuck. like you're some miracle he doesn't deserve. like if he looks away for one second, you'll turn to smoke between his fingers.

and yeah, okay, maybe you should be weirded out. maybe normal people would call this obsessive. but you're not normal, and neither is he, and that's the fucking point. you get it. you get it, down to your bones. because if you'd crawled your way out of your own grave only to find someone still waiting for you? still choosing you? you'd lose your goddamn mind too.

jason todd loves like a starving man at a banquet—all trembling hands and desperate bites, terrified the food will disappear if he blinks. it should feel like a cage. it would feel like a cage, with anyone else. but it's him. so when his arms wrap around you too tight, when his voice goes rough with "where were you?" after five fucking minutes, you just press closer. because you know the shape of this fear. you've tasted it yourself.

because here's the secret: you're just as bad. you love him with the same terrifying intensity, the same need that should probably scare you but doesn't. not really. not when it's him.

you love the way his hands shake when he pulls you close after a long night—not the dramatic, crime-fighting kind of shake, but the quiet tremble of a man who still can't believe he gets to touch you. like if he holds on tight enough, he'll wake up and this’ll all be some cruel dream. you love how he remembers your schedule, how he still hums your favorite songs under his breath when he thinks you're not listening, how he makes your eggs just slightly runny because he knows you like them that way even though he prefers his 'perfectly crisp'. stupid things. little things. the kind of things that would be meaningless if it wasn't him remembering them like they're scripture.

and fuck, the way he looks at you. like you hung the goddamn moon. like he'd carve out his own heart if you asked nicely. (you wouldn't. but the fact that he would if you were ever to ask? that gets you every time.)

what you don't say—what gets stuck in your throat like broken glass—is that you're just as fucking gone for him. you know the exact pressure needed to clean his favorite knife without fucking up the edge, which snacks he craves after patrol (those delicious spicy chili chips), how to make his hot chocolate just right—extra whipped cream, because "sweetheart, if i wanted vaguely chocolate water i'd drink batman's sad attempt at comfort food." you've memorized the way his breath stutters when you trace the scar along his ribs, how his eyes go that particular stormy green when he's blinking back tears, the exact weight of him when he collapses into your lap after a shitty night, all battered armor and quiet hurt.

and yeah, maybe you keep his favorite hoodie tucked under your pillow like some lovesick teenager. maybe you've memorized the pattern of his scars better than your own. maybe you wake up some nights choking on phantom dirt, your hands still remembering the feel of cold headstone beneath your palms, the way your voice cracked raw screaming his name into empty air.

but he's here. he came back. and some days, when the sunlight hits him just right and he smiles at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen, you think you might actually owe the universe for this one. for him.

sometimes, when the moonlight spills through the curtains just right and your breathing's gone slow and even, he lets himself be vulnerable. his calloused fingers—usually so sure around a gun, so deadly in a fight—trace the curve of your cheekbone like he's mapping constellations. it's the lightest touch, barely there, like he's afraid you'll dissolve into smoke if he presses too hard. like you're some sacred relic instead of the same idiot who once ate an entire pizza in one sitting (despite him warning you) and then complained about stomach aches for hours.

you're not fragile. you've taken punches that would knock out people twice your size, have scars that tell stories he doesn't even know yet. but in these quiet moments, when his breath catches and his hands tremble just slightly, he treats you like something precious. like you're the only thing in this godforsaken city worth protecting. you're not. but to him, you are.

and maybe that's why you don't give him shit about the excessive security measures (seriously, who needs that many knives hidden in one apartment?), or the way your phone lights up with his texts every twenty minutes like clockwork, or how his voice goes all gravelly with barely-contained panic when you're late coming home from the fucking grocery store. because you know that fear. you've tasted it—bitter and metallic—in the back of your throat every time he walks out the door wearing that damn helmet.

you love him like it's the last rebellion against a world that keeps trying to take him from you—like every breath you take is just another way to say fuck you to the universe. and yeah, maybe loving someone this much should terrify you, should send you running for the hills. but the thing is? you've never been good at walking away from a fight. especially not when it's him.

so when he stumbles through the window at 3 AM, knuckles split and that familiar exhaustion dragging at his shoulders like a second skin, you don't even blink. the blood doesn't faze you (you've seen worse), the way his hands tremble when he reaches for you doesn't make you hesitate. if anything, you meet him halfway, your fingers curling into his jacket before he can even get his boots off.

you press closer, until there's no space left between you, until you can feel his heartbeat against your ribs—too fast, too wild, but there. your lips find the scar on his mouth (the one he got that time he wouldn't stop running his mouth at black mask), then the fresh bruise blooming along his jaw (you'll ask about that tomorrow, when he's not vibrating out of his skin). and when he buries his face against your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, you don't just let him. you drag him closer, your own fingers digging into his back like you're trying to fuse your skeletons together.

you breathe him in like he's your last hit of oxygen, your nose pressed against his hair, memorizing the scent of gunpowder and sweat and him. your hands don't shake when they slide under his shirt—they tremble, tracing every scar, every ridge of muscle, like you're trying to rewrite every hurt he's ever known with your fingertips.

and when he finally slumps against you, all that tension bleeding out of him in one long sigh, you hold him up. you always will.

then when he whispers it against your skin—lips brushing your collarbone like a prayer, voice rough with something too raw to name—"i'd let this goddamn city burn for you. hell, i'd torch the whole fucking world and smile while it burned," you don't doubt him for a second. how could you? you've seen the way his hands steady when they're wrapped around yours, how his eyes go dark and certain in a way that makes your ribs ache.

your smile comes slow, private—the kind you only ever let him see—as you card your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "i know, pretty boy." because you do. you've always known. it's in the way he memorizes the rhythm of your breathing when you sleep, how he still flinches when you touch his back (too many scars, too many ghosts) but still lean in for more, how every goddamn morning starts with his lips against your pulse point like he's checking you're still alive.

and christ, it terrifies you sometimes, how good it feels to be loved this way. not careful, not gentle, but consuming. like there's no version of this story where you don't end up tangled together, blood and bone and all the ugly, beautiful parts in between. it's the kind of love that should feel like too much, except it's him, so it's never enough.

(because here's the truth they don't tell you about love this fierce: it doesn't make you softer. it makes you reckless. it makes you dangerous. and when his mouth finds yours in the dark, all teeth and desperation, you think—with something like joy, like hunger—that you'd raze entire cities for this man. you probably would have if he hadn't saved you that night.)

"i know," you say again, quieter this time, and let him kiss the words from your lips.

because you would too. you’d carve your name into the bones of the earth if it meant he’d never have to hurt again. the real question isn’t if—it’s which one of you would burn brighter.

would it be him, with his hands stained and his heart too big for his chest, tearing through the dark just to keep you safe? or would it be you, reckless and grinning, already halfway through the matchstick before he even finishes shouting your name?

does it even matter?

when the smoke clears, you’ll always find each other in the ashes.

2.5k words of jason todd being devastatingly human—all rough hands and soft devotion, love that borders on obsession but feels like coming home. because god, i missed him. missed writing his particular brand of broken tenderness, the way he loves like it's the last thing holding him together. because it might just be. it's criminal how i don't get any requests for him compared to mark, but hey—at least this way i get to pour all my pent-up jason feelings into something raw and unfiltered. or maybe i just don't write him well enough... my pretty boy with too much heart and too many scars, who deserves the world and would burn it down for the right person. lowkey wish it's me— hope this makes someone out there fall in love with him all over again like i did. or at least makes you clutch your chest dramatically like i did writing it.

[manicmanuscription]

Just Need You

PolySJM Week: Day Two

Prompt: Reveal

Pairings: Eris / Azriel / Fem OC

Summary: When Eris is badly injured not even court politic's will keep his mates away from him.

Word Count: 1118

Tags: Angst, Dying, Attempted Murder, Drama because author can’t help herself.

PolySJM Week 2025 Masterlist | Acotar Masterlist

Eris hadn’t known how agonizing dying really was. Of course he’d witness death before and certainly stood on her doorstep more than he’d like to admit. 

But now it just felt different, more… certain. He could feel his heartbeat slowing down, his vision was hazy and his limbs were weightless and heavy all at the same time. Eris swore he could feel the poison pumping into his bloodstream with each ragged and broken gasp for air, slowly leeching off his life force.

It was excruciating. 

Healers were surrounding him, touching him, people coming in and out of his vision but he barely noticed any of it. 

Then a familiar female was there, grasping his shoulders with a panicked look in her eyes. She was speaking fast but the words weren’t quite reaching him. The bond in his chest sang at the blurry sight of her and the tall male swathed in darkness that suddenly stood behind her. 

Both of them were speaking, reaching for him but he couldn’t put the pieces together in this state. Pain was the only thing that existed throughout his entire being, consuming all his senses. 

They got closer, the intoxicating scent of cedar and mist reaching his nose, along with fresh snow and violets. A harsh tug on that living thing in his chest had his vision clearing and finally he laid eyes on his beautiful mates. 

Mates. 

The word rang in his head with such a shocking clarity that the pain disappeared for only a brief moment and he smiled. Enora reached out to touch him, holding his hand to her chest while Azriel brushed a piece of hair away from his sweaty forehead, everything about their presence was a balm to his soul. 

“You’re going to be fine.” She vowed her voice cracking slightly. The usually stoic Shadowsinger had watery eyes. Those scarred hands gripping his shoulder. “You have to be.” Enora whispered. 

Azriel shut down when his emotions ran high whereas Enora panicked with the weight of them. He wished he had the strength to comfort them, wished he had the energy to tell them he was going to be fine. 

The truth was he didn’t believe it. 

He could feel himself slipping and they could too, black dots dancing in his vision. 

Hands roughly pulled his mates away and he let out a painful whine at the loss of their touch. “What the hell are Rhysand and Kallias’ lapdogs doing here?” Adler -his head guard- hissed with a barely contained fury, his hands shaking with panic at the state of his High Lord. 

Eris let out what was supposed to be a warning growl -the only male allowed to touch his mates was him- it came out as a soft whimper when more hands moved across his skin.

Cold, he was so cold. 

The Illyrian shoved Adler when he reached for Enora. Rage burst throughout his being. Voices escalated and a high pitched ringing started in his ears. More darkness swirled around the edge of his vision and too many hands were touching him, too many sensations running through his body as they tried to fight off death herself, too many magics tugging at his soul, his body, his life.

He could barely make out Rhysand’s form, more hazy annoyingly familiar figures appearing as tensions rose. Another male with batlike wings touching his mate, murmuring something to him. Autumn guards fighting with his fragile allies. More hands reaching for Enora, tugging both of them further and further away. 

“Give them room to work….” The words all jumbled and distorted, mixing with another sentence of “It’s not our place..”

Yelling and crying blurred together, Rhysand doing his best to control the situation which only enraged Eris further, after all this was his court. Why were they here again? What the hell was going on? Azriel shoved Cassian away taking another step towards him, his heart fluttering as the Spymaster did his best to reach him once again. 

His mate’s were the only clear figures in his line of vision, their distressed expressions pulling painfully on his slowly beating heart. Too many people hauling them further away. The bond unraveled with each harrowing second. It was all too much.

“Stop-” He gasped, panicking. 

He didn’t want to die, at least not without the loves of his life. 

He liked to be in control of his fate, of his choices, too many times had it been taken from him and now the Mother seemed to be laughing at the stability he had fought for. “Stop it…” His voice weakened with every syllable. Everything was falling apart in front of him, a ball of yarn disentangling before it all crashed and burned. 

More unfamiliar and misty faces crowded above him, touching his bare skin while strong magic yanking on his very being. He didn’t recognize them, didn’t understand what was happening as time slowed and sped up all at once and not at all.

He wanted his mates. 

“Stop.” Eris finally roared, the strength briefly being returned to him in the healer's dance of life and death, his soul being shredded, remade and shredded again in a vicious cycle. Venom burning through him just as fast as their magic did. 

“Stop touching my mates and Let. Them. Approach.” He wheezed out the last part, air knocking out of him in the same sentence. 

Enora and Azriel rushed to him immediately, pushing his shocked guards and the frozen Inner Circle out of their way. 

The Spymaster was the first to reach him, grabbing one of his hands and pressing a kiss to his cheek, tears slipping down his face as they both pulled on the weakened bond.

Enora was next to arrive, sitting down at the other side of him, helping him lean up further against the wall his court had hastily sat him against and pressing her forehead against his as she cried as well. 

He ignored the whisper’s, ignored the stupor radiating off his mate’s family and his own court. He didn’t give a damn about their opinions anymore, as long as his loves kept touching him, kept pulling on that wild and sacred thing that connected them. 

They backed up slightly to let the healers work but not much and Eris decided to fight harder, hoping his infected magic would somehow help him. 

He’d stay here forever as long as they kept touching him, as long as Enora kept whispering soft motivations in his ear, as long as Azriel kept pressing lingering kisses to the juncture of his throat. 

The political consequences of his little revelation would be absolute hell to deal with; he just needed to survive this first.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Chokehold

Label Mature 18+

Benny x You One Shot

Summary

When Benny decides to take a thrill ride before a thunderstorm, you chastise him about his safety. With his free spirited nature, he flat out dismisses you as “causing trouble,” riding off on his bike and setting off your short temper.

When he returns from his ride cockier than ever, you hurl an insult his way, frustrated by his recklessness. Benny enjoys your fiery and overbearing nature, knowing you can never tame his wild side. He playfully puts you in a chokehold until you submit to his will and carries you to the kitchen to tame the temper right out of you.

Established Relationship Bennys Girlfriend

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥

manhandling•fiery female•chokehold• male dominance • edging•fingering •dirty talk •pxssy taming•“good girl”•neck pinning•sex over a kitchen counter •overstimulation•simultaneous orgasm •cream pie•aftercare

🫦Smut consultant @purejasmine

Choke Hold

“You’re seriously going to ride out in this weather Benny?” you question, your tone laced with frustration and a hint of anger, as you eye the dark clouds gathering overhead.

“C’mon baby don’t be such a buzzkill,” Benny replies, sliding on his riding gloves, his grin only adding to your irritation. “I’ve ridden in worse.”

“But it’s not just about you,” you argue your voice rising slightly. “What if something happens? What if you get hurt?”

Benny shrugs, seemingly unconcerned by your worries. “Baby your always stirring up trouble relax, I’ll be fine a little rain never hurt anyone.”

You clench your fists, struggling to contain your frustration.

“Fine Benny do what you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you get caught in a downpour and end up stranded somewhere.”

Benny laughs and with a swift motion he kick-starts his Harley, the loud roar of the engine grating on your nerves.

“I’ll be back before you know it, baby. Try not to miss me too much,” he says with a wink.

His casual dismissal only serves to fuel your anger, and you feel the words bubbling up in your throat, ready to spill out in a torrent of frustration. But you bite back the retort swallowing it down with the bitter taste of resentment. You know all too well that once his mind is set, there’s no changing it back.

Benny, seeing your restraint flashes you a cocky grin and revs his engine drowning out any further protest. Then with the flick of his wrist, he rides his motorcycle out of the driveway and speeds off into the distance.

Your frustration mounts as you watched him embark on his thrill ride into the horizon with the ominous storm clouds.

You can’t help but feel a surge of anger rising within you. It was his casual dismissal of your opinion on several recent decisions that ignited your spark of defiance. Benny had a way of underestimating your insights, and though he meant no harm, it grated on you to no end.

A while later after the first crack of thunder, cutting through the air like a warning, you strain your ears and hear the familiar sound of Benny’s bike approaching. The rumble of his Harley growing louder with each passing second until finally he pulls into the driveway and abruptly cuts the engine.

You come to stand in the doorway and lean against the frame, your arms crossed in displeasure as you judge him.

"See? I told you it was fine," Benny quips, his grin unapologetic as he dismounts from his bike.

He approaches you and leans in, planting a kiss on your forehead before walking past you through the front door. Your hidden rage in striking contrast to his relaxed demeanor from the recent ride. With a practiced ease and without a care in the world he hangs up his riding gear.

You watch as heavy droplets of rain begin to patter on the driveway as a streak of lightning fills the sky. A roll of thunder rumbles, shaking the ground beneath your very feet. The storm is going to be severe, Benny barely made it in by the skin of his teeth.

"Your fine Benny ?” you retort closing the door. “You were practically going to ride through a monsoon out there! It’s like you’ve got a death wish or something." You say as the sound of heavy rain suddenly pelts the house.

Benny brushes off your concerns with a casual shrug “Come on, you worry too much” He says nonchalantly.

When he sits in the lounger and pulls off his boots, your frustration boils over, and you can’t hold back any longer. The insult that’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue bursts forth.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you had half a brain to go with all that brawn Benny, you’d actually listen to reason for once!” you snap.

Benny looks up at you and tosses his boot aside rising from the chair. His tall and imposing frame towers over yours as he stands, his muscular build only adding to his presence. His grin widens, mischief dancing in his piercing blue eyes.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth,” he says, his tone laced with amusement as he approaches, each step exuding his confidence and a hint of challenge.

Coming to a stop before you he gazes down, his eyes trailing over your smaller stature.

“But I guess that’s all you’ve got when you’re lacking in the brawn department,” he adds, his tone tinged with a hint of superiority.

Though his authority is infuriating it arouses you, and you find yourself fighting the urge to touch him, to feel the strength of his grip. Even as you resist the idea of giving in, his dominance is overwhelming.

You can’t deny how attractive he looks, especially in his muscle tee. The ruggedness of his appearance, combined with the confidence exuding from his every movement makes you crave him deep inside of you.

But this time, you’re not going to let him have his way. You double down on your resolve, determined to make sure he knows you won’t be easily swayed.

As you stand in a face off the air is charged with tension. The sound of rain pounds against the house as thunder shakes the foundation. You glare into Bennys eyes, your resolve doubling with each passing second. You choose your words precisely, knowing this is the moment to show him your strength, your words laced with determination as you answer.

“Brains beat brawn any day, Benny, you should kno-,” before you finish, Benny grabs you by surprise.

His grip is strong as he pulls you to him whipping you around in his arms and holding your back to his chest.

“Come on troublemaker, you think you can take me?” Benny chuckles, his voice deep and vibrating against your ear as he wraps his impressive bicep around your throat.

“You’re asking for it, Benny!” you retort in anger as you put up a fight pulling and struggling against his vice-like grip.

His strength is unyielding, every muscle in his arm flexed and tense, holding you firmly in place. As you struggle, you can feel his chest pressed against your back and his breath warm against your ear.

“Got you good now, don’t I?” Benny murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “Think you can break free?” he asks as his bicep clenches even harder around your throat. The pressure intensifies against your windpipe and a wave of panic sets in.

Your struggle turns into genuine resistance as you realize he is overpowering you with his strength in a chokehold. The air quickly grows thin and your movements become desperate. “Benny..-ease up a bit!” you manage to gasp out your voice strained with effort.

Benny remains calm, his grip firm yet controlled as he exerts his strength. “Don’t worry baby I’ve got you” he says, his tone firm yet reassuring. “Just surrender to it.”

Your vision begins to blur and your body starts to go limp as you cling to his forearm for support. Exhausted and gasping for breath, you reluctantly give in and weakly tap his forearm, signaling your surrender as you see stars.

“Looks like you’ve had enough, huh?” he chuckles as he releases you on your easy submission.

You stumble forward unable to gain your footing and he quickly reaches out grabbing your waist to prevent you from falling and pulls you back to face him.

“Guess brawn did beat brains this time,” he murmurs low and seductive, his eyes locking with yours in a heated gaze.

“You win this time, Benny,” you say, your voice laced with the hint of threat as you glare back at him. “But payback’s coming.”

Benny’s face lights up with a big grin at your threat of revenge.

“You look real adorable when you’re mad, baby,” he admits, his voice laced with charm. His eyes wander over your body, as he takes in your fiery demeanor.

“I’m not here to be adorable, Benny,” you retort, your voice edged with defiance. “I’m here to be respected.”

As you speak, your eyes hold his, conveying your determination to stand your ground.

“Alright then trouble maker” he says and before you can regain your composure, he surprises you by lifting you up over his shoulder with effortless strength and carrying you off.

“Benny where are we going?” you protest, your voice a mixture of surprise and anger.

“To a place where I can tame that temper of yours,” he responds, giving your backside a playful swat.

He carries you to the kitchen with determination his grip firm and unyielding as he sets you down gently in front of the center island. You look up at his intense gaze with a flutter of excitement coursing through your body.

“You know, you’re not as tough as you think,” he teases as he cups your jaw in one hand. When you open your mouth to protest he pulls you into a deep kiss.

Your arousal instantly wins over reason and you find yourself melting into his touch, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest grabbing his shirt pulling him even closer.

He smiles against your lips at your neediness for him and you feel the soft press of his mouth intensify as it moves against yours in a tender deliberate rhythm.

You respond eagerly, matching his pace with a hunger of your own. You feel the softness of his lower lip beneath yours, the gentle tug of his teeth as he teases and tantalizes, drawing out every moment with precision.

You arch into his touch, craving more of his kiss as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours.

He presses himself against you, backing you to the edge of the counter and pulls his lips back in anticipation. You are breathless and exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest as you gaze into his eyes.

“What were you saying about payback?” he murmurs, as you feel his impressive hard on touch between your legs as he pins you against the counter.

You meet his gaze with a mischievous smile, your eyes filled with seduction as you respond, “I think payback can wait.”

Benny chuckles softly, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer.

“Because you know you won’t win against me,” he responds, his voice laced with confidence and a hint of challenge. “Even if you tried, you’d never get your revenge.” He says as his eyes trail seductively down your body “I’m too good at this.” He confirms making your heart race with excitement.

He swiftly grabs your waist, effortlessly turning you around and bending you over the counter. His strong hand presses your chest to the cool tile surface pinning you down in place.

He brushes your hair aside and you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine.

With a knowing grin Benny leans in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his voice low and soothing. “Let’s bring down that fiery temper of yours hm?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

His tongue darts out and traces a tantalizing path along the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. As he sucks gently, his lips create a sweet, tingling sensation. Each movement of his mouth against your skin ignites a fiery passion within your body.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure, completely lost in the sensation of his tender kiss. His hands strong yet gentle trail down your body, caressing every curve with a delicate touch.

He leans back to standing, his grip firm yet gentle as he guides your legs apart with ease. With a confident touch he lifts your dress over your back exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the kitchen.

A rush of heat floods between your legs as he slides your panties down, the fabric grazing against your skin before settling just at the folds of your thighs. His fingers, warm and skilled, trace intricate patterns against your heat teasing you mercilessly.

“You’re getting so wet for me, aren’t you baby” He smiles feeling your arousal on his fingers “It’s like you can’t resist my touch.” he says punctuating his words with gentle strokes.

“You think you can …make me lose control that easily, Benny?” you pant against the tile, trying not to give in. “You haven’t even …done anything yet,” you say, a hint of defiance in your voice as you try to hold your resolve.

Benny chuckles softly “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with confidence. “I haven’t even begun to show you what I can do.” He glides his fingers over your folds and traces them around your sensitive entrance with increasing pressure until your arousal intensifies as you become wetter under his expert touch.

Then with his fingers fully soaked he trusts them into you pushing them deep inside as he continues to tease and explore. His fingers move in and out of you with deliberate thrusts to drive you wild with desire.

Your body tenses with effort as you try to resist the intensifying sensation. Every muscle is coiled with anticipation with each passing moment until you give in to the urge and surrender to the pleasure building within you.

Just as you moan in acceptance against the counter, he withdraws his hand, leaving you craving more, your body still tingling with desire. Your anger rises within you once again “Your such a tease Benny” you say taunting him in frustration.

“Just a taste of what’s to come,” he says with a smirk as he takes a step back leaving you wanting more.

You hear the faint sound of his zipper being lowered and feel his hand return reassuringly on your back, as he lines himself up.

He presses his hard tip to your entrance and runs it up and down your folds collecting your arousal for penetration. Your back arches from the extreme sensation and he gives your backside a playful slap, the sound echoing the kitchen. “Look how quiet and docile you are for me now,” he says with a grin.

“You’re impossible,” you gasp, your voice breathless with desire as you resist the urge to give in completely again.

Benny chuckles huskily, murmuring, “And you love every minute of it.”

With a slow deliberate push he thrusts his large cock into you, the sensation is overwhelming yet undeniably pleasurable as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

Your body trembles as he presses you firmly against the counter, the cool surface providing a stark contrast to the searing heat of your body.

His strong hands grasp your hips with a primal need, pulling you back as he presses his cock completely into you stretching you full. You moan as he sets a relentless pace thrusting you forward into the counter.

Each movement sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, the force of his thrusts driving you deeper into ecstasy. Your muscles clench around him with each powerful stroke, your senses consumed by the overwhelming intensity of his plowing cock.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” Benny teases, his tone playful as he observes your response in his thrusts.

“I am not …a girl… Benny!” you retort firmly. “I am…a woman.”

“Is that right, darlin’?” he asks, his playful demeanor unwavering. You nod determined to stand your ground as he thrusts into you.

Benny responds by placing his large hand on the back of your neck, pinning you in a submissive pose as he guides his movements. With each snap of his hips, he thrusts into you hard with a raw, primal energy that consumes your every thought and sensation.

You moan against the tiles with your face pressed to them as every collision of him against your body thrusts his cock deeper against your cervix. After several aggressive thrusts in a row a deep moan escapes from you as he breaks down your resolve. Benny revels hearing the sound of your pleasure.

He begins to clap his hips against you, deepening his thrusts until the intensity builds to a fever pitch. You can feel the tension of the coil inside of you winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Leaning over you he grabs your waist and changes the intensity of his thrusts, driving his movements slower and deeper until you gasp in pleasure as your core throbs from the sensation. His grip on your waist tightens as he leans in to whisper, “You sure are taking my cock like a good girl.”

Overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s giving, all you can do is moan, your body completely surrenders to his will. Benny sits up and pulls your arms back lifting your chest from the counter using them as leverage to bounce you on his hard, thrusting cock.

With each slap of your bodies meeting, your loud moans fill the air as his grunts of exertion echo the kitchen. Your walls begin to flutter around him and you cry out his name like a prayer, he smiles to himself, relishing in the sensation of you fully surrendering to him.

“There’s my good girl,” he says, his voice husky with desire. You let out a guttural moan losing all your anger as the pleasure surges in your core.

And then with one final, explosive thrust, you both orgasm to the overwhelming waves of pleasure. His ropes of cum painting your fluttering walls.

“Benny!” you cry out trembling as he holds you against him standing up. You pant for several moments as he presses his cock deep inside releasing every once of his sperm. He kisses along your neck as he holds you to him savoring your shared connection.

When he begins to soften he pulls his hips back grasping his cock at the base sliding it from you as you feel the loss of contact.

He turns you to face him and pulls your lips onto his softly kissing you once more before he leans back to gaze into your eyes.

They are filled with satisfaction and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips

“You look real pretty when you’re not being a little trouble maker baby” he teases as he smiles caressing your temple.

With a mischievous grin, you respond, “Dont get used to it Benny trouble is my middle name.”

You both share a laugh and he holds you close, his strong arms wrapped securely around you. The rain outside begins to subside, the soft patter against the windows gradually fading away.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, a comforting embrace in the aftermath of the storm. As you smile to yourself, a sense of satisfaction washes over you knowing that while he may overpower you physically, you’ll always find a way to turn the tables with wit.

⛈️END⛈️

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🏍️ Full Four Part Benny Fic TBA this month

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[justablah56]

ok guys after meticulously undoing 7 truly absurdly complicated rows. I did in fact fuck up somewhere. fuck man.

I am going to kill this pattern.

[dorabellingham]

My woman

warning: verbal attacks, anxiety

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when after england loses a game, a player freaks out at you, but he defends you.

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You were in the middle of the stands, near the reserved area, where you always waited for the end of the games to greet Jude or, sometimes, another player. The cold wind cut your face, and the stadium was starting to empty. England had just lost an important game, and the mood was heavy. Even though you were discreet and trying not to draw too much attention, you felt the eyes of some frustrated fans around you.

Suddenly, you heard quick footsteps approaching and, before you could react, you felt firm hands holding your shoulders. The fright was immediate, and when you turned to see who it was, your eyes met a player from the team, visibly out of control. He was holding you tightly, his face red with anger, his jaw tense and his eyebrows furrowed with pure frustration.

—You! —He shouted, his voice full of desperation and hatred. —What do you think you’re doing here? Do you think this is a show, that you can just come, smile and pretend everything is fine?! This is no joke, you're just a bunch of self-interested whores!

Paralyzed, you tried to pull away, but the player held you tightly. The pressure on your shoulders was uncomfortable, and you felt despair growing inside you. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. Your body was tense, and fear began to take over. You had never been treated like this before, you never expected to be the target of such an irrational outburst.

—You come here, with those smiles and shitty shirts, and you think you're helping? You only make everything worse, since you're a bunch of little women waiting to be fucked after the game, and that's all you care about!

He continued, spitting furious words.

The people around you began to realize what was happening, but no one seemed to have the courage to interfere. That man's mental chaos was palpable. You, still without reaction, tried to remain calm, but the fear grew with each word he shouted in your direction. You looked around, looking for Jude or someone who could intervene, but no one you knew was around.

Suddenly, a loud sound cut through the air. It was a voice you knew well.

—Let her go, now!

Bellingham came running, his face completely altered with rage. He barely managed to register what was happening before he intervened.

The player hesitated for a second, but soon let go of your shoulders, throwing his hands to the side with a sudden movement. Jude immediately placed himself between you, staring at the player with an expression that mixed fury and protectiveness. You were panting, your eyes wide with fright, but now you felt a little safer with your boyfriend in front of you.

—Have you lost your mind? —Jude shouted, his voice firm. —What the hell do you think you’re doing?

The player, still seething with frustration, shook his head and took a step back, but not before casting one last look of contempt in your direction. He seemed to want to say something, but he simply turned and left, still muttering under his breath words that he couldn't understand.

Jude quickly turned to you, his eyes worried and his voice much softer now.

—Babe, are you okay? Did he hurt you?

He placed his hands lightly on your arms, checking to make sure nothing physical had happened.

You, still processing what had just happened, tried to speak, but your voice came out weak.

—I... I don’t know what happened. He just showed up and started yelling...

You said, still scared, but trying to stay calm.

Jude pulled you closer, hugging you tightly, trying to reassure you. He could feel your body shaking slightly, and that only increased your anger at the situation.

—No one has the right to treat you like this. —He said, his voice lower and full of repressed tension. —I’ll never let that happen again.

You nodded, still recovering from the shock, but feeling much safer with Jude by your side.

Time Skip

As you rode in the taxi back to your London apartment, the heavy silence inside the car contrasted with the faint noise of the city outside. Jude was focused, his jaw clenched, still clearly irritated by what had happened at the stadium. You, on the other hand, were beginning to feel a familiar pressure in your chest.

Your thoughts were racing, your heart beating faster with each passing minute. The image of the player yelling at you, the look of fury in his eyes, the cutting words still echoed in your mind. You tried to control your breathing, to focus on the noise of the traffic, but the feeling of panic was growing, threatening to take over.

You knew he would notice as soon as he looked at you. You knew Jude wouldn't react well if he knew that this confrontation had caused a panic attack. What the player had done had already made him furious, and he would probably go after him if he knew his girlfriend was having a crisis because of it.

Trying to look as calm as possible, you looked out the window, but your fingers were already shaking, and your breathing was starting to become ragged. You felt your chest tighten again, as if the air was disappearing.

Take a deep breath, take a deep breath...

You thought, trying to hold back the tears. But the feeling of being trapped in that moment, unable to free yourself from the anguish, only grew.

—Sweetheart, are you okay?

Jude asked suddenly, turning his head to you, his gaze worried. He had noticed the prolonged silence and the way you kept your face turned away.

You tried to smile, but it came out forced. Your eyes were already starting to shine with the tears you were trying to hold back.

—Yeah... just... tired, I guess.

You answered, your voice low and slightly shaky.

Your boyfriend frowned, sensing that something wasn't right. He knew you well enough to know when you were hiding something. You avoided eye contact, and your hands were shaking slightly in your lap. He took one of your hands gently, trying to comfort you.

—Y/n, I know you. What’s going on?

He asked, the concern in his voice becoming more evident.

You tried to take a deep breath, but your breaths came out fast and shallow, and at that moment, you knew you couldn’t hide it for much longer. A panic attack was setting in, and you hated it. You didn’t want Jude to worry, or to get even angrier than he already was.

—No… it’s nothing, Jude. I just… I’m… Your voice faltered as you tried to find the words. You squeezed his hand tightly, trying to use that contact as an anchoring point.

He looked closer, seeing the sparkle in your eyes and noticing the way you tried to control your breathing, but to no avail. It was then that he realized what was happening.

—Hey, stay calm... —Jude said, moving closer in the seat, his voice lowering, trying to bring a sense of calm. —Babe, are you having a panic attack?

You bit your lip, unable to hold back the tears that were now falling silently down your face. You nodded, lacking the strength to say anything else. Your body was tense, as if you were about to collapse.

—I... I didn't want you to know, Jude. I don't want to worry you. I don't want you to go after that player.

You finally confessed, your voice shaking as the tears flowed faster now.

Bellingham felt a pang of pain in his chest when he saw his girlfriend like this. He knew you had dealt with panic attacks in the past, but he hadn't expected that confrontation to trigger something so strong. He squeezed your hand more firmly and, without hesitation, gently pulled you closer to him, wrapping you in his arms.

—Y/n, look at me —He asked, his voice soft. —It doesn't matter what caused this. I won't do anything stupid, okay? I'm just here for you. We'll get through this together, like we always do.

You buried your face in his chest, sobbing softly as you tried to control your breathing. The sound of Jude’s heartbeat was the only thing anchoring you at the moment.

[kokonoisgf]

Cold - Chuuya Nakahara (m)

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

❀ character: Chuuya Nakahara

❀ tw: MINORS DNI 18+ sexual explicit content (fem reader) : pet names, cursing, slight bondage, praises, 'baby', 'princess', he's so in love w you!!!

❀ note: Getting back into writing woooo!! let me know what you think hehe, more Chuuya stuff coming, because I am forever in love with that man (っ˘ڡ˘ς) (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

❀ word count: 3.5k

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

‘I thought I told you to stay home’ Grumbled Chuuya from under his blankets. His forehead shone with a thin layer of sweat, his eyes glistening with sickness. His gaze was inevitably glued to you who leaned near his bedside table preparing what seemed like his medicine. He thanked whatever god was out there for the warm, thick blanket covering him, because the way you bent over measuring his medicine would be the death of him. The short skirt you wore left little to none to the imagination. He tried desperately to look away, but the curves of your ass were barely covered with that baby blue lace, which only made it harder for him to pry his gaze away.

It was as if you were doing this on purpose, trying to rile him up. As you neared him holding the cup containing the foul smelling liquid, he propped himself up, blanket pooling at his waist. His chiselled chest exposed, he could feel his heart trash around his chest. His cold really wasn’t that bad to be honest, it was more so the way your every move or glance had his heart leaping that kept him on edge.

‘You didn’t have to do all this, I'm fine.’ Chuuya muttered, his voice raspier now, almost sounding like a growl. His slight fevered state only heightened his awareness of you, and your every movement truly only seemed designed to torment him.

You gave him a small, teasing smile as you handed him the medicine. ‘I couldn’t leave you like this,’ you said, your voice soft and sweet, but there was a knowing gleam in your eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, how much power you held over him in this moment. Chuuya’s hand trembled slightly as he took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He mentally cursed himself for being so reactive, his whole being putty in the palm of your hand. He downed the medicine quickly, wincing at the bitter taste, his eyes falling back on you.

Sitting on the bed next to him, you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, leaning forward. A concerned expression covered your face as you checked his temperature. Chuuya’s gaze flickered to your exposed cleavage, feeling himself get dizzy for a hot second. Scoffing, he turned his gaze away, cheeks almost matching his fiery hair.

He fought so damn hard to keep his gaze elsewhere, anywhere but there. But it was impossible. The way your shirt dipped, the curves of your breasts… He squeezed his eyes shut, frustrated by the growing storm raging inside him.

‘Chuuya you’re so red, are you alright?’ He blinked, looking back at you, the same sly smile covering your features. God- You were so close, he felt as if he was hallucinating. His heart raced as you leaned in, your face hovering inches from his. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin, making his already fevered body feel like it was burning up from the inside out. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything but the way your eyes sparkled with amusement.

‘I told you I’m fine,’ he muttered, though his voice betrayed him with a slight tremble.

‘Just… feeling a bit hot.’ he added quickly, though he knew it wasn’t just the cold making him feel this way. You smiled, your fingers gently brushing through his ginger locks .

"Maybe you need something to cool down then, take your mind off this cold." you teased, your voice soft and soothing, but there was an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore. Chuuya felt torn between wanting to pull you closer and trying to maintain some level of composure.

‘You're… making this hard,’ he said, his voice shaking slightly. He was rapidly losing his composure. His eyes flickered, desperately searching for a distraction, but you had him completely cornered. His body felt heavy from both the cold and the undeniable tension crackling between the two of you. You were close—too close—and every fibre of his being was aware of it. The sound of your soft breathing, the scent of your perfume, and the warmth that radiated from you made his pulse quicken.

‘Oh really? How so?,’ you replied, your tone light, but your eyes betrayed a deeper understanding of the effect you had on him. Chuuya gulped, his sapphire eyes completely lost in yours. His cock was hard, oh so embarrassingly hard after not even a single touch from you. The blanket somewhat hid it a little, but he fidgeted under the covers, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his composure, but your proximity and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief weren’t helping.

‘You know exactly what you’re doing,’ he growled softly, the frustration in his voice evident. He wasn’t just battling this stupid cold anymore; he was attempting an unwinnable fight against his body right now. It was utterly betraying him, the blanket now doing little to conceal his hardening cock. He shifted, trying to find some comfort, but every movement only seemed to create delicious friction that his body desperately craved.

‘Maybe I do, but do you mind?’ You cooed, your hand softly cupping his cheek as you leaned forward again, your gaze catching his. His cheeks caught on fire at the softness of your hand and your cleavage once again in full display for him. Your touch felt both featherlight and electrifying at the same time, and Chuuya knew he was damn well already under your spell. It was no news to him though, he had always been fond of you.

‘I-’ He paused, silently cursing himself for how utterly desperate his voice sounded ‘I… don’t mind’ He admitted, gaze quickly looking off to the side as if avoiding yours trying desperately to hide his feelings. His chest tightened, and for a moment, panic seized him. Did he really just admit how much he wanted you?

He feared the cold had lowered his defence, fearing to spill even more of his heart to you in the midst of something happening. It wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing, it was quite the opposite actually. He couldn’t even recall the number of times he found his gaze drifting to you naturally, wondering how your lips would taste on his, how you’d feel clawing at his back as he made sweet sweet love to you, but more importantly how it would feel to call you his.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut a knife, as you gazed at him intently. Your teasing look subtly transformed into one of pure admiration hinting to something much deeper, your feelings for him shining like a lighthouse into the dark sea.

‘Chuuya, can I… touch you?’ Your voice was sweet, contrasting with your other hand trailing down his chest, deliriously close to the hem of his underwear. There was no mistaking the tent in his boxers by now, visible even through the thick blanket. Chuuya felt his face heat up, feeling completely exposed, his throat dry. Mind reeling, he nodded eagerly — a little too eagerly — eliciting a small smile from you. There was nothing more he wanted on this earth than to to feel the subtle touch of your fingers against his skin, or your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick. Stop.

God— He was so desperate, for your touch feeling as if this cold only intensified the sensitivity of his body. His hands clenched the blanket, desperate for something to ground him, but nothing could quell the ache. He felt like his mind was spinning, insides twisting as his eyes were glued to your hand, and how with each passing second it neared where he needed you most.

‘W-Wait-’ Chuuya’s voice trembled as his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting you in your movement. His mind snapped, actions registering before he could even wrap his mind around what even he was going to say. His body was on fire, every nerve alive conflicting with both his sickness and the sheer desire for you, but there was something prevailing on his mind. He couldn’t let himself give in, not without saying what had been on his mind for so long.

‘I can’t… I have something to say.’ His voice was low, a rough whisper full of frustration and vulnerability. He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for feeling so exposed. This wasn’t how he imagined pouring his heart out, no never in a million years. But the cold, the heat of your body, your soft touches—it had all stripped away his usual defences.

Your expression softened, your hand still resting on his chest, fingers curling lightly against his heated skin. ‘What is it Chuuya?’ you asked, your voice gentle.

He opened his eyes, sapphire depths meeting yours, and in that instant, something broke free inside him. ‘I… Fuck- I care about you okay? Like, really care about you. And not just in the way you’re probably thinking right now.’ He glanced down, his face flushed with both fever and embarrassment, but he forced himself to meet your gaze again and keep on going. He could not allow himself to get intimate with you if you did not return his feelings — he was not like that. The memories would haunt him for life if he did.

‘I’ve thought about this moment—I mean, us—more times than I can even remember. And it’s not just about wanting you physically, though Fuck- God knows I do.’ He paused, exhaling a shaky breath, his length straining against the thin material of his underwear as if to prove his statement. The words were spilling out of his mouth before he even had time to think about them, but his heart was being truthful right now, so vulnerable.

‘I can’t stand the thought of someone else with you - I need you all to myself. I want all of you to myself, not just tonight, not just because I'm sick and you’re there. But for real’

He let out a sigh of frustration, feeling as if he couldn’t express the depth of his feelings properly. Running a shaky hand through his hair, his eyebrows furrowed, cheeks reddening as he looked off toward the dim light of his bedside table.

‘I just… I love you a lot, that's what I'm trying to say..’ He admitted, his voice cracking slightly at the end, and his grip on your wrist loosened. He let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he swore he felt like he was on the verge of a heart attack. There was a silence and Chuuya swore that these were the longest five seconds of his life. He had battled the most fearsome enemies in Yokohama, but nothing scared him more than meeting your gaze right now, to be faced with the truth of your feelings.

‘Chuuya…’ your melodic voice rang through his ear, and he bit down on his lips, feeling your hand cup his cheek once again. Leaning into your touch, his lashes fluttered close for an instant, basking into your warmth. It felt good really, to pour his heart out, like an indescribable weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

‘I love you too, I always have. I wouldn’t have come here to take care of you, or proposed this, if I wasn’t feeling the same’ Chuuya’s gaze flew to meet yours. Did he heard you right? Or had the fever finally gone to his head making him hallucinate? His face now matching with his fiery hair, he exhaled another shaky sigh, mouth parting and closing trying to find the right words to say.

‘I- Damn it- Need’ you so bad’ It was like he had been given the golden key that unlocked the gates to heaven, and he knew he couldn’t wait anymore. Knowing that you felt the same, his long fingers intertwined with yours, pushing you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you. Pining both your wrists above your head, his body faintly glowed red, his gravity-manipulation ability forcing a gentle weight on your wrists, rendering you unable to move them.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on the way his cock absolutely strained against the material of his underwear. A wet spot adorned the front of his boxer, the shadow it created only amplifying the wetness between your legs.

Struggling against the invisible restraints, your doe eyes met his. ‘Chuuya, you’re the one who should be resting. C’mon let me touch you..’ You cooed, desperately wanting to pleasure him first, but he was not like that. Even if he was at death's door you would come first, so it was not like a silly little cold would change any of that.

‘Waited too long, need to have you. This cold can go to hell.’ He mindlessly babbled, as his lips found refuge in the crook of your neck, before capturing yours in a heated kiss. His fingers grazed your skin as if he was afraid you might disappear any second, the scene unfolding before him feeling like a dream. He was so afraid that he’d wake up to square one, needing to ground himself deeply into reality.

The kiss was desperate, full of the longing he’d kept hidden for so long. He poured every ounce of his feelings into it, his lips moving against yours in a tender yet demanding way. Your body arched beneath him, pressing into his touch, but his ability kept you pinned down firmly against the mattress. You moaned in the kiss, tongues twirling as he pulled away, thumb resting on your bottom lip.

‘Open up for me, would you, doll?’ A hint of command prickled in his words, your lips parted almost instantly and before you knew it, he had leaned forward his spit dribbling down into your mouth.

‘Good girl, such a good girl to me’ His voice was hoarse, rough with lust, his gaze almost midnight blue by now. He could tell he had long gone and lost his composure, his raw instincts taken over. Swallowing his spit, you moaned, lifting your legs to wrap them around his hips. Chuuya felt his brain short-circuit when your clothed core pressed against his length, the warmth and sheer wetness making him see stars. Cursing under his breath, a strand of his ginger hair slipped past his shoulder as his cheeks flushed. Fingers digging your skin, his knuckles turned white, his tongue darting out to wet his pink lips. Lashes fluttering shut, your head fell back against the pillowcase, beads of sweat trickling down your cleavage. Your skirt had riled up, exposing your panties and bare juicy thighs, your voice resonating through the room.

‘Need you inside me’ You whimpered out, and Chuuya swore he could cum from your pleading voice alone. Your pussy was quivering begging for any type of friction, feeling your walls clench around nothing had you going mad.

‘Fu-Fuck yea okay- I got you princess’ Normally he thought he’d have made you wait a bit more for it, but he truly didn't have it in himself to make you wait. Was it because you looked so utterly vulnerable beneath him under the spell of his ability, or maybe it was simply because he had daydreamed about this moment for so long that he felt like waiting was not even an option. He had no idea, but he knew he needed your soft walls around him. Positioning his length, Chuuya shoots you another bashful glance.

‘Hey.. you sure you’re okay with this?’ He asked, as if trying to ground himself that this was really reality, that you truly wanted him. It still felt surreal to him somehow. You nodded, arching your back

‘Please Chuuya’ Your begging felt like sweet music to his ears, his long fingers quickly discarded your panties, his eyes glued to your soaked cunt.

‘So wet- God, you’re so beautiful” Rocking your hips against his, Chuuya hissed, his eyes rolling in the back of his skull. Pressing his body forward he gently started filling you up inch by inch. He felt small whimpers threaten to escape his parted lips, his breathing uneven already. The stretch felt delicious, your walls fluttered against his cock nestling comfortably inside you. The ache was so good, his cock filling you up so perfectly. Leaning his forehead against yours, he never once broke eye contact as his hips started moving.

‘Takin’ me so well, look at your pretty pussy’ He rasped, his sapphire gaze glued to the way your cunt swallowed him whole, a thin ring of cum already coating his dick. He felt like he was floating. Building rhythm, Chuuya couldn't help but moan seeing you so vulnerable under him. As much as he absolutely loved seeing you struggle against the invisible restraints of his ability, he desperately needed your hands all over him. The faint crimson glow of his ability subsidised as you regained control over your arms, as a dusted blush covered his face.

‘Touch me.. Please’ He begged shyly, and you couldn’t help but comply. His shy side was so endearing to you. He never showed it to anyone, considering it somewhat of a weakness, but it made you want to do anything and everything for him. Legs wrapped around his waist, your hips met his at a rough pace, your hands leaving no skin untouched. You were impatient. Impatient to have him coat your walls white with his cum, needing him all to yourself. Your hands trailed up his chest, nails clawing at his skin before bringing him down for a passionate kiss. Your tongues danced with each other, saliva mingling as his hot breath fanned against your lips. He broke the kiss from time to time to release whimpers and grunts, mindlessly blabbing how much he loved and adored you.

His pace was ruthless, never once stopping for a breather, before his long fingers gripped the underside of your knees angling you up. You yelped as the Executive’s pace increased tenfold, hitting your sweet spot instantly as if he’d known your body since the beginning of time. You were completely impaled on his cock, the sudden thrusts of his hips making your eyes water in pleasure, moans of his name endlessly pouring from your lips.

Feeling the inevitable coil in his stomach about to snap, his thumb met your pearl needing to make you cum on his dick before he could even begin to think about releasing deep into you.

‘My pretty girl.. C’mon give it to me’ His soft words doubled with the way he looked at you were more than enough to make you unravel under him. A choked out whimper leaves your lips as the overstimulation from his dick’s relentless pace and thumb over your clit has you gushing beneath him.

‘That’s right- cum on on my cock baby-’ His breath fanned against the shell of your ear, his hot breath tingling your skin like wildfire. The feeling of your walls fluttering around his length inevitably sent him spiralling as well as he halted, cockhead kissing your cervix, hips stuttering. Mind hazy, a silent cry escaped his parted lips, as one of his hands grasped yours in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Intertwining his fingers with yours he huffed and puffed heavily.

‘I-I’m gonna-’ He stuttered trying to warn you, beads of sweat dripping down his fair skin and you swore that in this moment he never looked this beautiful. It wasn’t long until your pussy was filled to the brim with his cum, feeling him softly collapse on top of you, his head on your chest.

Your heartbeat was so soothing as he tried catching his breath. Your fingers tangled in his orange locks, gently caressing his scalp. Looking up to meet your gaze, he felt on cloud 9, one of his hands coming to caress your cheek.

‘I love you so much..’ he whispered earnestly, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. Eyes falling on your exposed cunt, he couldn't help but notice the way a mix of both your juices dribbled down your thigh. A surge of heat rushed over his whole body at the realisation that he released deep - deep inside your pussy. Something primal light up inside him, his eyes darkening again. Long fingers tilting your pretty fucked out face to meet his, he looked at you silently. He needed more - He had waited way too long to have you and now he was insatiable. He could be greedy right? Just for tonight?

Feeling his dick harden again at the sight before him, Chuuya looked off to the side at the clock on his wall. 1:07 am, it indicated.

He had all night after all, he’d just rest tomorrow. This cold truly could go to hell.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

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[writeriguess]

I need some comfort (whenever you get to mine in the que and what bit) I just became a single mother of two under two so do you think you could write shoto todoroki or Toya todoroki x reader who is in a custody fight with her POS baby daddy and he starts talking all this shit to her and they stand up for her once she starts crying

Fireproof

Custody battles weren’t about truth.

They weren’t about love, or who deserved to raise a child. They were about power—who had it, who didn’t, and who could manipulate the system better. And right now, your ex had all the power.

You hated the courthouse. The walls felt like they were closing in every time you had to sit through another meeting with your lawyer, listening to legal jargon that all boiled down to the same thing—you weren’t winning this fight.

Not yet.

You pushed through the heavy courthouse doors and stepped into the cool evening air, trying to breathe, trying to stop your hands from shaking. But just as you thought you’d finally gotten a moment to yourself—

"Well, that was humiliating," came a voice you wished you could forget.

Your whole body tensed.

You turned, already bracing yourself. Your ex stood a few feet away, arms crossed, smirking like he had just watched you get kicked to the ground.

"You really thought that meeting was gonna go differently, huh?" he scoffed. "Thought maybe you’d finally get the upper hand? That was sad to watch."

You clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. "I'm not giving up."

He let out a laugh. "Of course you’re not. You never do, do you? You keep dragging this out, wasting time and money when we both know how this is gonna end." He took a step closer. "You’re broke. You’re barely holding your life together. What judge in their right mind would side with you?"

"I can take care of my kid just fine," you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Oh, really?" He tilted his head mockingly. "With what? That shitty apartment? Your dead-end job? Hell, even if you do win, what happens then? You gonna cry every time things get hard?"

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stand your ground. "At least I actually care about our child’s happiness. Unlike you."

His smirk disappeared.

"You think you're better than me?" he asked, voice suddenly colder. "Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a failure. A weak little girl who can’t even keep it together long enough to fight her own battles."

Your throat tightened.

"And that’s why you’re gonna lose." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Because you don’t have what it takes. You never did."

The words sank in like a knife to the gut. You fought so hard to be strong, to prove you weren’t the weak, helpless girl he wanted you to be. But the way he said it—so sure of himself—made that doubt creep in again.

You swallowed hard, fighting the tears burning at the back of your eyes.

"Aww," he cooed mockingly, "did I hit a nerve?"

"Hey, asshole."

The voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a blade.

Your ex froze.

Slowly, he turned, his expression shifting from amusement to confusion as he took in the man standing a few feet away.

Touya.

He had been there the whole time, leaning against the courthouse wall, watching. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his usual lazy smirk in place, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to his gaze—a simmering, barely contained rage that made the air feel hotter.

Your ex frowned. "Who the hell—"

Then recognition dawned.

The color drained from his face.

"Shit," he whispered.

Touya grinned. "Took you long enough."

Your ex took an instinctive step back, hands slightly raised like he wasn’t sure whether to run or try to talk his way out of this. "You—you’re Dabi."

Touya rolled his eyes. "No shit, genius. What gave it away? The scars?"

Your ex didn’t even acknowledge the sarcasm. He was too busy staring at him like he had just come face-to-face with a rabid animal.

"You’re with him?" he snapped, turning to you, disbelief twisting his features. "You’re seriously fucking dating Dabi? The lunatic who burns people alive? The guy who doesn’t care about anything except bringing down his old man? Do you realize how easy you just made this for me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off.

"The second I tell my lawyer about this, it’s over," he said, practically vibrating with excitement. "No judge is gonna let our kid be around him." He gestured wildly toward Touya, voice rising. "He’s a fucking terrorist, for Christ’s sake! He kills innocent people! He’d burn the whole damn world down if it meant getting back at his daddy!"

Touya let out a low hum, seemingly unbothered. "Man, you sure talk a lot."

Your ex ignored him. "This case is done. I don’t even have to try anymore. The second I tell the judge about this, I—"

A hand shot out, grabbing his collar and yanking him forward so fast he barely had time to gasp.

The smirk was gone.

Touya’s blue eyes burned with something dangerous, something unhinged.

"You so much as breathe my name in court," he said, voice eerily calm, "and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out."

Your ex froze, his whole body locking up.

Touya tilted his head slightly. "You ever heard what it feels like?"

Your ex swallowed hard, but Touya kept going.

"I have," he murmured. "Apparently, the pain’s so bad you wish you were dead. But the worst part?" He leaned in, lips curling into something cruel. "You can’t even scream properly."

A flicker of blue fire licked at his fingertips.

Your ex twitched. "Y-You wouldn’t—"

Touya’s grip tightened. "You sure about that?"

For a second, there was nothing but silence.

Then—your ex nodded. It was small, barely a movement, but it was there.

Touya held his gaze for a few seconds longer before suddenly letting go.

Your ex stumbled back, almost falling, his breathing ragged. He stared at Touya like he was looking at a monster.

"Now," Touya said casually, stuffing his hands back into his pockets, "be a good little bitch and run along, yeah?"

Your ex didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and bolted, practically tripping over himself in his rush to get away.

The second he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your whole body still felt tense, your heart pounding from the adrenaline.

"Hey," Touya said softly, turning to you.

You looked up at him.

"You alright?"

You exhaled, wiping at the corner of your eye. "Yeah. I think so."

He watched you for a second, then reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist. His touch was warm—not from his fire, just from him.

"You know," he murmured, "I could make this whole custody fight disappear if you wanted."

You let out a breathy laugh. "As tempting as that is, I’d rather not have to explain why my ex suddenly vanished."

Touya chuckled. "Fair enough."

His arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you in close. You let yourself sink into his warmth, letting the tension in your body finally ease.

"You’re not weak," he murmured against your hair. "You never were."

For the first time in a long time, you actually believed it.

[deadhands69]

In The Stacks Part 1: Thunder, Rain, & a Boy Who Doesn't Know His Name

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

A mysterious library patron catches your eye, seeking information about his past life. You help him, stirring up your own past in the process. Contains: gn/afab reader, SMUT, cussing, mentions of injuries/violence, obsessive/yandere leaning behavior, spoilers.

this is part 1 [next] [series masterlist]

"Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle?"

- Nitya Prakash

The storm rages outside, rain pummeling the old windows. In contrast, it’s a quiet night at work. Nearly everyone was sent home early, with the exception of you and your manager who is covering the circulation desk four floors down. Floods are expected to block bus lines for most of the night, but that’s fine. You live two blocks from here anyways so you offered to stay until closing in case anyone comes in. 

Barely anyone does. It’s not just the staff missing, the library is also void of most patrons tonight. You figure that’s to be expected with weather like this. A sudden crack of thunder nearly makes you jump out of your skin, but you keep walking. There’s someone you need to find and you get the feeling he’s not so easily put off by a storm.

The orderly rows of books on one side of you stretch from floor to ceiling in their carefully constructed places. They're in stark contrast with the rain flowing organically down the windows to your left. Another clap of thunder shakes the floor beneath you, but this time you're not so easily startled. You take a deep breath and focus on your task.

In his usual spot sits a man with long white hair and deep red eyes. The oversized hood of his sweatshirt is pulled up, nearly obscuring his face. He’s a bit odd in a way you find absolutely fascinating. For the past month he’s been spending time here, he has never checked out a book or used one of the computers. The books you do see him reading jump between genres almost daily and he never seems to finish any of them. He’ll skip from books on prison design one day to Shakespearean theater the next. You still aren’t sure what he’s doing here all the time. 

Yet you see him every day, like clockwork. He arrives fifteen minutes after you’ve punched into your shift at four pm. Sitting in the same spot on the fourth floor until ten minutes before closing, when he promptly leaves and disappears into the night.

After watching him from afar for so long, you were ecstatic to have an excuse to finally talk with him last week. You were shelving books, as you typically would at that hour, when a gravelly voice spoke behind you.

“Hey, uhm” he said tentatively, waiting for you to turn around, “I, uh, need help finding the next book after this. I forgot where I found it.”

You were surprised to see him on that floor. It was the fifth floor when he usually sits on the next one down. In any case, you jumped at the opportunity. Setting the book you were shelving back on the cart, you gave him your full attention. 

“Absolutely, which one is it?” 

He handed you a book. A very dry looking text on evolutionary biology, part one of a five part series. Gesturing to a shelf, he continued “It should be here, right? It’s not though.”

“Oh, I see what happened,” you reply. “It’s confusing, but you were close. You see these numbers on the bottom line? They don’t work the way the ones above do. Instead of being one full number, they’re separate digits. So, we find six, then eight, then four, then five. It’s not very intuitive. This means the next part should be,” you drag your finger over the shelves to the bottom, “right around here.”

“Huh,” he adds, standing remarkably close to you for someone you’ve never seen speak to another person before. “You seem to know a lot about this.” 

Then he smiled at you, stretching the scar that splits through the side of his lips. A pretty smile. One that would certainly make its way into your dreams for the rest of the week. Blushing slightly at the compliment, you leaned down to the bottom of the bookcase, busying yourself more than necessary. 

“How long have you been working here, anyways?” he continued.

“As long as I can remember,” you mumbled.

“As long as you can remember,” he repeated. “That’s a while to stick with a job. You must really like it here.”

“Yeah,” you said, coming to your feet again.

“Ever think about doing anything else?” he asked, likely just trying to keep the conversation going.

“No, just this,” you replied, a little too cheerfully. It’s a lie but you weren’t about to tell him you switched jobs after an injury stopped you from being able to continue at the last one. That’s not a conversation you wanted to have, at least not yet.

“Interesting,” he smirked, staring through you. You got the feeling he knew you weren’t telling him the whole truth, but he didn’t say anything else about it. You suddenly remembered why he was talking to you in the first place and shoved the book in his direction with a little too much force.

“Sorry,” you laughed awkwardly. Wanting to keep the exchange going, you scrambled at the next topic of conversation you could find. “Interested in protostomes?” you ask, glancing at the book in his arms.

“Not really.” Pink dusts over his cheeks as he scratches the side of his neck through the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I uh. I mostly just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

His eyes continued to pierce through you as you processed what you just heard. He wanted to talk to you? 

“I’m y/n,” you said with a smile, “what’s your name?”

He stared at you for a moment, chewing the rough skin on his bottom lip. His eyes fell to his feet for a moment before his mouth parted. Looking back up at you, he stated matter of factly: “I don’t know.”

The mysterious man talked to you a few more times in the days that followed. Little things like asking where he could find a water fountain or re-explaining how call numbers work. A few days ago, he left an address with you, asking for more information.

“I remember this and know it’s important, somehow,” he explained. “But when I went there it’s a vacant plot. Can you help me find more about it?”

“Of course,” you said without hesitation.

And now, here you are. Copied article in hand, searching the library for someone who doesn’t know his own name. Your hands shake slightly, nervous about what he’ll do or say when you finally hand him the story of a family mysteriously disappearing in their demolished house, but you’ve put it off for days now. Maybe it’s for the best that you waited to do this while the library is practically empty.

However, when you approach him in his usual spot and hand the article to him, he has almost no reaction at all. He glances over it blank faced, folding the page neatly and tucking it into the front pocket of his backpack.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“No problem,” you reply. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay,” he replies. 

Not knowing what else to say, you leave – going back to organizing the books on this floor. A few rows over, you find the wooden tab you marked your place with. Starting at the book before, you begin reading through the call numbers. 

Three-hundred fifty five point oh two…

“y/n?” a familiar voice grates behind you.

You turn to find him walking towards you, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Your heart pounds in your chest. His presence is enough to fill the whole room and he's not even trying. He approaches you, once more standing closer than most people typically do. His forehead tips towards yours as his stark white hair hangs on either side of his face. You can practically feel his breath on your skin as he quietly speaks. 

“Thanks,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into half a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “As a thank you, can I–” An untimely clap of thunder rings out, shaking the whole building. You jump, startled, straight into his arms. He feels warm. Everything about him envelops you and before you know it your body is leaning in closer, without thinking. 

He is too. 

His beautiful red eyes flutter shut, chapped lips smashing into yours without hesitation. They're much softer than you expected and less fragile than they look. His backpack drops to the floor, immediately forgotten. One of your hands slips into his hood, tangling your fingers into his hair. The other grips his sweatshirt, desperately pulling him in closer. You've been waiting for this moment for so long, now you need every bit of him you can get. 

His lips move with yours, rolling his tongue over your own with confidence. One of his knees slides between your thighs, further intertwining the two of you. It's been a while since you've done anything like this, but you jump back into it quickly enough. With him, it's easy. Of course it is, you've never wanted anything more in your life than kissing him right now. 

His mouth moves down your jaw. Every breath you take is filled with him, something like fallen leaves but sweeter. You grip his hair harder, eliciting a gasp. He looks up at you while sucking in a breath, pale skin flushed and pupils blown wide. He's so hot like this and you certainly know what you'll be dreaming about tonight. 

Moments later, his teeth graze your neck. Not biting, but he kisses you with so much force that you feel it in the rest of your body. One of his hands cups your face while the other wraps around your lower back, holding you as he presses you back into the bookshelf. Wrapping your leg over his hip, you pull yourself in.

Footsteps echo up the stairs. Someone's coming. 

It takes everything in you to pull away, pressing him back. He goes willingly, grumbling slightly as he takes a step away. For a moment, his hands linger on your hips as he stands in front of you, eyes closed. He takes a few deep breaths to pull himself back to reality. His lips are swollen and his nose is pink from kissing you so hard, it's cute. 

The footsteps continue up a few floors, but it's close to closing time anyways. He steps away, picking up his backpack and adjusting his hoodie. 

Say something, you think. You know you're supposed to but your brain is elsewhere and slow to find the words. “Uhm, I’ll see you around…”

“Tenko,” he says, patting his backpack where he stashed the article.

“Tenko,” you repeat. He moves a strand of your hair behind your ear before giving you one last kiss, pulling on a mask, and turning for the stairs to leave.

Shortly after, your manager calls for you. The other floors are all clear of patrons, you’re free to go home a few minutes early while she turns off the lights.

“Get home safe,” she says, back turned to you as she gestures at the tree branches bending in the wind outside the window.

“You too,” you yell up the stairs before grabbing your belongings and exiting into the storm.

The rain is falling so heavily, you’re drenched through your jacket before you make it to the end of the block. There’s a thick layer of water over the sidewalk which you wouldn’t mind if you weren’t also in a thunderstorm and at risk of being electrocuted. You start to run.

On the way to your apartment, you can see the signs above the bus station in the distance. All of them are all flashing ‘delayed’ with at least a three hour wait on them. Tenko walks just ahead of you. Wherever he’s going, he won’t make it far.

“Hey,” you shout after him, “Tenko!”

He turns, white hair in clumps from the rain. “Hey, y/n,” he smiles back at you, as if the bad weather is nothing. 

“You should come with me until the storm dies down a bit, I live near here.”

Tenko looks surprised then considers the offer for a moment before responding, “yeah, sounds great. Thank you.”

You run a little to catch up to him, before pulling him through the door into your building half a block down. The warm air surrounds you, invitingly. 

“Come on,” you hit the elevator button and it dings immediately. “You can warm up in my apartment until the buses are running again.”

The sight of yourself on the reflective elevator wall is almost alarming. Your hair’s a mess, lips puffy, and your neck is reddened where he was kissing you. All that on top of being drenched from the downpour. Still, you feel almost giddy. 

As Tenko enters the elevator, you notice the way his sweatshirt clings to him under his backpack. The fabric stretches over the muscles in his back and chest, flexing as he moves. Everything in you wants to jump on him again. But you've waited too long for this and don't want to fuck it up by making him think that's all you want from him. Plus, you invited him back to your room to warm up and don't want to make him feel uncomfortable if the two of you have different expectations. 

You tap your keycard before hitting the number 16 to your floor. Taking advantage of the sliver of self control you have left, you continue. 

“Uhm,” you clear your voice, “about earlier. I-I don’t usually do things like that. I mean, I do, just not that fast.”

“Oh,” Tenko’s eyes widen, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you or anything. I don’t either. Usually. It’s just… you’re different. I feel like I’ve known you for a while, even if it’s just been a week.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “I feel like that too.” 

“We can slow things down though. I don’t expect you to make out with me every time you see me. Especially when you're at work. That would be ridiculous," he adds, sounding more like he's reminding himself than talking to you.

Slow it is then, you think to yourself. It’s a nice thought, but you wonder how long it will last. Now that you know touching him is an option, slowing things down will be a whole lot easier said than done. 

The elevator dings and the doors open to your floor. He walks out ahead of you, turning down the hallway towards your apartment. “It's this one,” you point at a door halfway down before unclipping your keys from your backpack and letting him in. 

For a moment, your hand hovers over the light switch when you remember the state your apartment is in. The space is small, a one bedroom that feels more studio sized. In spite of this, it’s still pretty barren. Like many people, your last home was destroyed in the final war. Some fight between fire and ice, you were told. Your old job helped you get back on your feet to an extent, which is lucky – that’s not a privilege most people had. Still, you haven’t had a chance to buy new furniture or decorate. It's not quite the first impression you'd like him to have. At least it's clean.

You also have a kettle, time to lean into what you can offer. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?” 

“Sure,” he says, kicking his shoes off and peeling away his soaking wet sweatshirt. You try not to notice the way his v-neck underneath still clings to him. “Anywhere I should put this? I feel bad dripping all over your apartment.”

“No, it's totally fine! I am too. Uhm, just hang it on the doorknob.” He does so, adding to the puddles you're both creating in the entryway. You've taken off your outer layers and thrown them to dry over the backs of the two small dining room chairs you own. You'll definitely need to mop tomorrow, but that's okay. 

“What flavor of tea do you want?” you ask from the kitchen. 

Tenko joins you, still standing closer than most people comfortably would. Sifting through the options while the water heats up, he eventually lands on chamomile. The two of you settle down onto the floor of your living room in front of a heating vent, both wrapped under a shared blanket. He doesn't seem to notice your lack of typical household amenities or if he does, he's doing a great job of hiding it. Everything feels normal with him.

“What made you move here anyways,” he asks, between sips of tea. “To this area?”

“Convenience, mostly. It's close to work and everything is within walking distance. How about you?”

“I guess I just ended up here, but I stayed because,” Tenko blushes from behind your mug.

“Oh, come on.” You urge, “it can’t be that bad.” 

He raises what little eyebrows he has at you. 

“Really,” you insist. “I won't judge.”

Tenko looks at you skeptically but continues anyway. 

“Uh, this is stupid but I stayed because I liked someone and thought I’d have a chance with them.” Suddenly you regret asking.

“Oh,” you say, voice a little higher than you mean for it to be. “I uh, is that–”

“No, no, no. Sorry, uh, that’s not like– you don’t have to worry about anything. There’s not like someone else in my life or anything,” Tenko frantically scrambles to clarify. “No one will be upset with you for kissing me.”

“Well, still. I’m sorry that didn’t work out.”

He smiles, “no you’re not.”

“No,” you laugh, “I’m not. You’re right. I just hate that something didn't work out for you. I don’t want you to be upset.” It still stings a little having heard that he’s just here because he had feelings for someone, but he’s here with you now, not anyone else, and you tell yourself that’s what counts. “I can’t believe anyone would ever miss a chance with you.”

Tenko’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, he tries hiding behind the mug as he takes a sip, eyes glued on you, but you can still see how flushed he is. It’s adorable.

“Really,” he drops the cup from in front of his face, “I’m okay. I really am. It's not like that.” He smiles bashfully. His spare hand meets yours, pinky rubbing lightly over your knuckles. “Besides, I kissed someone today and I’m pretty excited to see where that goes. I couldn’t be better.”

Tenko’s eyes meet yours and it feels like he’s staring into your soul. Setting his empty mug aside, he moves yours too. Once more, he leans in to kiss you – this time much sweeter and less hurried than the last. 

“Hmm,” he mumbles, as he pulls away, “and then I kissed you today too.” You scoff, hiding a laugh pushing him back. In response, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to the floor with him, blanket still tangled around your limbs. 

“There’s no one else,” he whispers into your ear, “you don’t have anything to worry about. I'm all yours, I promise.” Tenko smiles and everything you’ve been trying to hold together crumbles apart. 

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[mrsdarkandyandere7]

oooh ok so i think something really fitting for dark luke would be him manipulating reader into joining kronos’ army and then reader realises that it’s wrong and tries to leave but he won’t let them (he perhaps might kidnap them just to keep them with him)🤭🤭🤭

Pairing: Dark Luke Castellan x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Minor Violence. 

Took me a long time to write it but here it is finally, so enjoy 😊

--

“Y/N, c’mon. We gotta hurry up.” 

You remain silent, feet fixed on the floor, bothered by the troublesome tentacles of doubt and uneasiness that have started to round you up. 

You had always agreed with Luke’s perspective on the Gods. Comforted him when Luke’s anger and anguish got the best out of him. Supported him when he rambled about the imperative need to act, to defy the Gods.

You understood him.

You had your fair share of bitterness and hatred dedicated to your own mother, something that often led to crying yourself to sleep. 

You even helped him design the plan that made sure that Zeus’ Lightning Bolt was stolen without the fault falling on Luke. 

But now… now things feel different. It feels wrong. Very wrong.

You’re not sure what changed, but as you passively observe Luke hastily stuffing some of your clothes into a small bag, you realize you can't do this.

Because it means to betray the only place that ever felt like home. To turn your back on the people you called friends. 

“I can’t go with you.”

Your words come out in a low tone, barely above a whisper and Luke stops for a moment, hands dangerously clenching around a few shirts of yours.

You think he’s going to say something, but as quick as the moment comes, it also goes away and your boyfriend resorts to ignoring you. 

“The rest of your shirts won’t fit here.” he says, with a strained voice. “But it’s fine. We can get you more clothes when we get there.”

A shaky sigh comes from you before you can stop it.

“Luke, I’m not going with you.” 

Luke tenses up and you nervously gulp when he twists his neck to glare at you with a mix of impatience, anger and exasperation and shakes his head before returning his attention to the bag, zipping it close. 

“Luke-”

“You’re not ditching me. Now right now.” he snaps at you, turning to fully face you. “You promised me you were on my side. Hell, you even helped me begin this. And now you’re abandoning me, seriously?” 

You shake your head, reaching for his hand. He lets you hold it, despite the angry frown he has. 

“This isn’t right, Luke. We can’t just-”

“But you get it, right? You get why I’m - we - are doing this, right?” he tugs you closer by the hand, his other hand wrapping itself around your other hand’s wrist.

Pulling you so close that you can practically see the rageful emotions exploding in his eyes. 

“It’s for a good cause. All of this! We’re doing this to stop the Gods, stop them from always getting away with every shitty action of theirs.” 

You look at him, pure confliction itching your heart and mind and Luke seems to notice that. 

“We’re in this together, okay?” his eyes beg you to accept it, to accept him. To be his partner in crime. “You and me against the world. Having each other’s backs.”

But as much as you want to, it’s not something you can do. 

Luke’s face falls at the tears shining in your eyes - a clear synonym of your decision.

“I’m sorry, Luke. I really am.” 

For a moment, his jaw tenses up and you think Luke is gonna shout at you. That you’re no better than the Gods. That you too have betrayed him when he needs you the most. 

But he doesn’t. 

“So am I.” your brows squirm in confusion at his apologetic words and the only warning you get is a light squeeze of his palms on your hands. 

It happens so fast that you barely have time to react. 

He shoves you hard with one of his hands grabbing the back of your head, smashing your skull against the hard wall.

The pain is excruciating, stars exploding in your vision and you feel a strange numbness disseminating through your body. Your knees give up and you’d almost fall if Luke’s arms weren’t there to grab you, softly rocking you till your back meets the floor. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” his voice sounds distant, your brain slowly disconnecting as you lean towards the darkness,

“...but I can’t let you walk away from me.”

[ruewrote]

𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡.

PAIRING: cato hadley x fem!reader WARNINGS: creepy guy, no use of y/n GENRE: angsty? SONG INSPIRATION: ...ready for it? by taylor swift WORD COUNT: 634 REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | the hunger games masterlist

the dull thud of metal meeting the target echoes through the training center as you throw another knife. the steady rhythm of your throws keeps you focused, even amidst the chaos around you. other tributes are busy practicing their own strengths, hand-to-hand combat, survival skills, and weapons training. but you've always been better with knives, finding a strange sense of peace in the precise movements of throwing them.

you pick up another blade, feeling its weight in your palm, when something disrupts your concentration. a certain presence that lingers too close behind you, an uncomfortable warmth pressing into your personal space. you try to ignore it, pulling your arm back to make the next throw, but it’s impossible to shake the sensation of someone watching you a little too intently.

before you can react, a hand grabs your arm, rough, forceful. you freeze.

"that's not how you throw a knife, sweetheart," a voice sneers from behind you, low and mocking. you turn slightly to see one of the other tributes standing uncomfortably close. his eyes are dark, leering as they trace over you. "maybe you should stick to something a little less dangerous."

you narrow your eyes, yanking your arm out of his grip, but he doesn’t back off. instead, he steps closer, the smirk on his face making your skin crawl.

before you can respond, a sudden rush of movement makes you flinch. out of the corner of your eye, you see a blur of motion as someone barrels into the guy, sending him stumbling backwards. you hear the sickening crunch of a fist meeting flesh, followed by a grunt of pain.

it’s cato.

his eyes are wild, filled with rage, as he lands a solid punch square into the guy’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. the tribute scrambles to get up, but cato is already looming over him, fists clenched at his sides. 

"stay the hell away from her," cato growls, his voice dangerously low, every syllable dripping with barely contained anger. his chest heaves with the effort of keeping himself from completely losing control.

the other tribute, now more cautious, wipes the blood from his lip and glares up at cato, but he doesn’t say anything, staggering to his feet before walking away, muttering something under his breath.

the entire training center seems to pause for a moment as everyone turns to watch the scene. but you’re only focused on cato.

"are you okay?" he asks, his voice softer now as he steps closer to you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, still trying to process how quickly everything happened. "i’m fine. you didn’t have to do that, though," you say, your voice a little shaky.

cato’s eyes narrow, clearly not agreeing with you. "of course i did. that guy was asking for it." his tone is protective, but there’s something else there, something possessive, too.

for a moment, you’re caught off guard by how much he seems to care. cato wasn’t someone who gave away affection or protection easily, and yet here he was, standing between you and any potential threat.

"thank you," you murmur, your heart pounding in your chest. cato’s eyes soften just a fraction at your words, and he steps closer again, his towering figure making you feel strangely safe.

"don’t thank me," he mutters. "no one messes with you while i’m around."

you smile slightly, despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "noted."

cato nods once, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns back toward the rest of the training center. but even as he walks away, his presence lingers, and you can’t help but feel a little more secure knowing that, in this brutal place, someone like cato had your back.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[expired-vibes]

Falling For You

DoYeong X YN , JaeJun x YN

The air between Ha Do-yeong and Jeon Jae-jun was suffocating.Y/N could feel it.

“Ye-sol is my daughter,” Jae-jun growled, fists clenching at his sides. “You’ve been playing house with her for years, but we both know she’s mine.”

Do-yeong’s expression was blank, but Y/N could see the storm raging in his eyes. “And yet, she runs from you every time she sees you,” he replied smoothly. “She chooses me.”

Jae-jun’s jaw tensed, and his gaze flickered toward Y/N. “You understand, don’t you?” His voice softened when he spoke to her, like she was something precious. “Ye-sol should be with me. And so should you.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She knew Jae-jun had feelings for her, had noticed the way his eyes lingered on her longer than necessary. But she never acknowledged it—not when her heart had already made its choice.

Do-yeong stepped closer, shielding her from Jae-jun’s gaze. “Don’t bring her into this.” His voice was dangerously low. “She’s not yours to claim.”

Jae-jun let out a bitter laugh. “Oh? And she’s yours?”

The last thread of control snapped.Jae-jun threw the first punch. Do-yeong barely dodged before retaliating, shoving him back against a parked car. It was violent, ugly—years of resentment and unspoken anger exploding all at once.

“Stop it!” Y/N cried, stepping between them just as Jae-jun swung again.

She barely registered the impact before pain shot through her shoulder, knocking her off balance. The world tilted as she stumbled, her ankle twisting beneath her.

“Y/N!” Do-yeong was at her side instantly, his arms catching her before she hit the ground. His hands, usually steady, were shaking as they held her, as if the thought of her in pain was unbearable.

Jae-jun’s eyes widened. “Shit. I—Y/N, I didn’t mean—” Then, as if realizing something, his gaze darkened with resolve. “Come with me.”

Jae-jun tries to take Y/N. Before she could react, Jae-jun reached for her.

His grip was firm but not forceful—desperate, almost. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t need to stay here with him.”

Y/N tried to pull away, but her ankle gave out, and a sharp hiss of pain left her lips.That was all it took for Do-yeong to snap. He grabbed Jae-jun’s wrist, his grip like iron.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.”

Jae-jun sneered, yanking his arm away. “She doesn’t belong to you.”

Do-yeong’s entire body was tense, his rage barely contained. “She’s not some object you can claim.”

Ignoring him, Jae-jun bent down, arms reaching to scoop Y/N up.Before he could, Do-yeong moved faster.His hand pressed against Jae-jun’s chest, shoving him back with enough force to make him stumble.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” His voice was ice, but the way his arm curled protectively around Y/N’s waist was pure fire.

Jae-jun clenched his fists but didn’t move forward again. He looked at Y/N, eyes searching, waiting for her to choose.

Y/N met his gaze and shook her head. “I’m not going with you, Jae-jun.”

Something flickered in his expression—hurt, anger, resignation.With one last glare at Do-yeong, he turned and stormed off, disappearing into the night.

The moment Jae-jun was gone, Do-yeong turned his full attention to Y/N. His hands, rough from the fight, softened as they cradled her face. “Are you okay?” His voice was raw, laced with guilt.

She exhaled, leaning slightly into his touch. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said firmly. His fingers trailed to her shoulder, gently brushing the spot where Jae-jun had hit her. His jaw tightened. “Damn it, Y/N, I should’ve stopped this before it started.”

She reached for his wrist, her touch grounding him. “You were protecting Ye-sol. And me.”

His throat bobbed, his composure cracking just slightly. And then, before she could say anything more, he pulled her against him. Y/N barely had time to react before she felt the warmth of his embrace—solid, steady, overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “I never wanted you to get caught in the middle of this.”

She closed her eyes, melting into him. “Then don’t fight for me,” she whispered. “Just stay with me.”

Do-yeong tilted her chin up, his eyes dark with something unspoken.And then, he kissed her.

Soft at first, hesitant, as if asking for permission. But when she sighed against his lips, her fingers tangling in his shirt, he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he felt into it.

When they finally pulled away, breathless, Do-yeong rested his forehead against hers, his hands still gripping her waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

And Y/N knew—this was where she belonged.

[mydearviserra]

Stones

Warning: Death, grief, affair

A whole year it took to finish his outfit

It was his favorite of all his clothing, he loved how much details and effort you took. One whole year of trying to finish this damn thing, he would often distract me from the beading pulling you away to crush his lips against yours then ultimately bed ending up on the bed. One found moment was when you were just almost done, he pulled you away again just for you to reluctantly pull away begging him your almost finished yet that night we broke the bed. Days we laughed at that day how embarrassing it was to call for a bed replacement.

You stood rigidly beside Tywin's bier, your face a mask of grief-stricken composure even as tears carved silent paths through the fine lines around your eyes and down your cheeks. The red gown you wore seemed to shimmer with each suppressed shudder, the Lannister lion crest emblazoned upon your bodice appearing almost mocking in its joviality. Your hands, clad in delicate silk gloves, gripped the side of the dress tightly as you gazed down at her deceased husband's still form, his eyes closed eternally beneath the stone likeness of his own stern visage.

Though the septa chanted solemn hymns and the nobles murmured their condolences, you barely heard them. Your mind was a tempest of anguish and rage, the betrayal you had discovered mere days ago still raw and festering. After fourteen years of marriage, three sons born from your womb, and Tywin had been rutting with some common whore? The shame of it burned hotter than your sorrow

there was a fragility to your poise, a barely restrained vulnerability that belied the strength and resilience she had long since cultivated. As your gaze flicked to Cersei, standing haughtily across the aisle, you felt a surge of loathing so intense it nearly choked you.

Turning back to Tywin, you whispered a final, fervent prayer, your voice trembling almost imperceptibly. "I loved you," you said softly, the words a benediction and an accusation all at once. "I loved you," you repeated, as if trying to convince yourself he’ll hear you

leaning closer, your gloved hand trembling as you reached out to caress Tywin's cold, lifeless cheek. Your eyes shimmering with unshed tears and barely contained rage, bored into his shuttered ones as if trying to wake him, to force him to account for his heinous betrayal.

"How could you do this to me, Tywin?" You whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "After all these years, after the children we made together, how could you sully our marriage with some- some harlot?" Your breathing hitched on a sob, your fingers curling into a fist against his cheek.

"I wanted to hate you," you hissed, tears spilling down your face to splatter onto the stone covering Tywin's chest. “I tried to hate you, but I cannot. I cannot, because despite everything, I still... I still loved you, you wretched man." You choked on another sob, your body shaking with the force of your anguish and fury.

"I loved you," you repeated, your voice rising in pitch and volume, echoing through the cavernous sept. "And this is how you repaid my love? By taking some common whore to your bed? By defiling our marriage vows, our family name?" You shook your head "I wanted to scream at you, to rage against your betrayal until my throat was raw. I wanted to shake you, to make you see the pain you've caused me, caused our boys..."

Your voice dissolved into incoherent whispers and anguished cries, your body wracked with silent sobs as you leaned over Tywin's bier. The few mourners present cast furtive glances your way, murmuring their sympathy and unease. Yet you were lost in your own world of grief and fury, trapped in the prison of your own shattered heart.

“How could you forget, Tywin? How could you forget all the joyous moments we shared, all the laughter and love that filled our chambers? Do you remember the nights you worshipped my body, your calloused hands exploring every curve and contour as if mapping out the very essence of my being? I remember the way you would kiss me until I was breathless, until the world fell away and there was nothing but your touch, your passion, your love..."

You trailed off, a choked sob escaping your lips as you recalled happier times. "And the hours I spent, stitching and sewing, my fingers aching from the labor of love I poured into every stitch, every embroidered lion and golden rose. The outfit I made for you, the one you wear now in this final repose - it took me a year, Tywin. A year of my life, of my love, poured into a garment I hoped you would cherish, would honor, as much as I cherished and honored you."

You let out a bitter, mirthless laugh, shaking your head. "But you were too busy defiling our marriage, too busy rutting with some harlot to appreciate the time and love I put into your clothes, your life. You distracted me from my sewing with your kisses, your caresses, your lovemaking. And now, now you lie here in the fine garments I made for you, wearing them only to be buried in. It's a mockery, Tywin. A cruel, twisting mockery of all the love and happiness we once shared."

You leaned closer, your gloved hand fisting in the fine silk of Tywin's funeral shroud. "I wanted to give you everything, Tywin. I wanted to make you happy, to stand by your side as your wife and partner in all things. But now... now I don't know if I can even look at you, let alone mourn you as I once would have. You've taken a piece of my heart and shattered it, and I fear it will never be whole again."

Your voice hardened with bitter accusation as you confronted Tywin's corpse, your eyes flashing with jealous rage. "I want to know about her, Tywin. That harlot, that... that whore. What made her so different, so irresistible that you would betray our marriage vows, our family, for her?" You spat the words

"Was she more beautiful than I? More skilled in the art of lovemaking? Did she whisper sweet lies and empty flatteries in your ear, stroking your ego and your pride until you forgot the woman who had stood faithfully by your side for over a decade?" Your voice rose, echoing through the vaulted chamber as you gave vent to her pain and anger.

"She could not have loved you, Tywin. She could not have appreciated the man you were, the power and influence you wielded. She was a opportunist, a harlot who saw in you a means to elevate her station, to line her pockets and fill her belly." Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the silk of your gloves creaking under the force of your grip.

"And yet, you looked her way. You touched her flesh, joined your body with hers, when you had a wife who loved you, who cherished you, who gave you sons and built a life with you." You shook your head. "I will never understand it, Tywin. I will never comprehend how you could cast aside the love and loyalty of your wife for a moment's fleeting pleasure with a woman who cared for nothing but herself."

Fresh tears spilled down your face as you loomed over Tywin's bier, her voice breaking on an anguished sob as she lifted her hands again caressing his cheeks "You broke my heart, Tywin. You broke our marriage, our family, with your betrayal. And now, now you lie here, beyond reach of my anger, my sorrow, my desperate need to understand why. Why, Tywin? Why her? Why not me, your wife, your y/n ?

"If only you had loved Tyrion, truly loved him as a father should love his son, none of this would have come to pass. He was your son, your own blood, and yet you cast him aside, treated him with contempt and scorn." Your hands cupped his cheeks, your warm skin mixing with his cold flesh sent a shiver of resentment

"If you had given Tyrion the love, the approval, the support he so desperately craved from you, he would have never felt the need to seek revenge. He would have been content, proud to be your son, your heir. But you denied him that, and in doing so, you sowed the seeds of your own destruction." Your eyes blazed with a mixture of sorrow and accusation as you gazed down at your husband's dead face.

"Tyrion loved you, Tywin, as only a son can love his father. And you repaid that love with cruelty and neglect. You rode him, mocked him, belittled his every achievement. You even went so far as to have him imprisoned, to threaten his life, all for the sake of your precious honor." The tears of bitter disappointment dripping down to his face

"If you had simply shown Tyrion the love and acceptance he needed, he would have never resorted to such desperate measures. He would have been grateful, loyal, true to you and our family. But instead, your intransigence, your stubborn refusal to see the good in him, to love him as he deserved to be loved, drove him to the brink of madness."

Your rose to a anguished scream as you confronted Tywin's lifeless form. "This is your doing, Tywin! Your cruelty, your blindness, your utter failure as a father and a husband. If you had only loved Tyrion, truly loved him, then he would not have had to kill you for you to finally acknowledge him, to finally see him as your son. And now, now you lie here, beyond redemption, beyond forgiveness, and all because you could not, would not love your own son!”

You slumped against the edge of Tywin's bier, your body shaking with the force of your sobs as the weight of your anguish and fury crashed down upon her. You gripped the cold stone with white-knuckled fingers, your head bowed as tears fell onto Tywin's shrouded chest. Your voice was a broken whisper, raw with emotion.

"How could I not have seen it before, Tywin? The seeds of your downfall, the rot that festered in your heart and mind, driving you to cast aside all that you held dear? I thought our love was stronger, our family unbreakable, but I was a fool." You laughed bitterly, the sound muffled against his chest . "I was a fool to believe that a man who could not love his own son, his own flesh and blood, could ever truly love me."

. "I will have to be strong now, Tywin. I will have to be strong for our sons, for they have lost their father and must now navigate a world that will seek to take from them what they have inherited. And I will have to find a way to forgive you, to lay this bitterness and anger down, so that I may be the mother they need." The further you buried your face against his chest it made your stomach turn, the stiffness, the way his clothes didn’t even get to smell like him yet. For a moment, a split moment I was waiting for him to caress my head and call me his sweet dove.

. "I loved you, Tywin. I loved you so deeply, so profoundly, that I gave you everything I had to offer. My youth, my beauty, my fertility, my loyalty, my devotion... I surrendered it all to you, to us, to the future we were meant to build together." You rose him his chest, your hand cupping onto his. His cold empty hands once held a ring he cherished. His wedding ring now sat on my middle finger

You leaned in closer, her forehead nearly touching his. "But you, you threw it all away. You cast aside the love and devotion of your wife, your partner, your soulmate, for the fleeting pleasures of a harlot's flesh. And in doing so, you destroyed everything we had, everything we were."

"I wanted to grow old with you, Tywin. I wanted to sit by the hearth of our castle, our hands entwined, reminiscing about the life we had built together, the love we had shared. I wanted to watch our grandchildren play at our feet, to know that all we had sacrificed, all we had endured, had been for a purpose. But now, now there will be no golden years, no twilight days filled with the warmth of our love."

You pulled back slightly, your eyes searching Tywin's shuttered ones as if trying to find some semblance of the man you had once loved. "I will never forgive you for this, Tywin. I will never forgive you for taking everything I had to give and leaving me with nothing but the hollow shell of a life, a family, a love that once meant everything to me. And now, now I must find a way to fill the void you've left behind, to rebuild the wreckage of a life shattered by your betrayal."

You took a final, shuddering breath, your voice a broken whisper as you leaned in to press a kiss upon Tywin's cold, still lips. "Goodbye, my love. Goodbye, my heart. I will always love you, even as I learn to hate you for the cruelty and pain you've inflicted upon me, upon our sons, upon all those who dared to love you. Farewell, Tywin. May the gods grant you the peace and redemption you denied yourself in life."

Cersei approached the bier where Tywin lay, her emerald gown sweeping behind her as she walked. Her face was a mask of cold, aloof beauty, but her eyes glittered with a cruelty She paused beside you, looking down at Tywin's corpse with a thinly veiled smirk playing at the corners of your ruby lips

Jamie followed close behind, his hand resting gently on the small of Cersei's back. He cut a striking figure in his black armor, the golden lion of Lannister etched into the breastplate. His face was etched with sorrow and grief, but there was a hardness to his eyes, a steely determination that suggested he would not let Tywin's death go unavenged.

As they approached, you looked up, your tear-stained face a picture of anguish and despair. You knew the animosity between you and Cersei, the jealousy and hatred that had festered in the woman's heart for years. She braced herself for the cutting remarks, the barbed words of condolence that you knew Cersei would not be able to resist voicing.

Cersei leaned in close to you , her voice a low, venomous hiss. "My dear y/n," she purred, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Please accept my deepest condolences on the loss of your beloved husband. I know how much you cherished him, how devoted you were to his every whim and desire." She paused, letting the implication of her words sink in, the unspoken accusation that you had failed to keep Tywin's affections and loyalties.

Jamie stepped forward, his hand tightening on Cersei's arm. "Cersei,” he warned, his voice low and filled with a quiet menace. "This is not the time or the place for your cruelty and spite. y/n has lost her husband, the father of her children. Have some pity, some compassion."

Cersei merely smirked, pulling away from Jamie's grasp. "Oh, but I do have pity, dear brother. I pity Y/n , for she has lost so much more than a husband. She has lost the love and respect of her family, of her people. And all for the sin of not being able to keep her man happy”

"You think you have the right to judge me, Cersei? To cast aspersions on my love, my devotion, my loyalty to Tywin?" Your voice rose, echoing through the vaulted chamber. "You, who have never known the depth of love and commitment that I shared with your father?"

You took a step towards Cersei, your head held high, your chin jutting out in a gesture of defiance. "I gave Tywin everything I had to give, Cersei. Every ounce of my love, my passion, my very soul. I stood by his side through every trial, every tribulation, every triumph. I bore his children, I built his legacy, I loved him with a fierce and unyielding devotion that you could never begin to comprehend."

Your voice cracked with emotion, but you pressed on, undeterred. "And you dare to stand there, to look down at me. Your jealousy- of me isn’t anything compared to the hatred I have for you how you made me miserable yet you know Tywin love me more then he ever did Joanna. Don’t start reflecting your miserable life to make yourself feel better. Seven hells you couldn’t keep Robert happy! You walk around with bastards of your own brother don’t you dare start with me!”

[mykneeshurt]

Reflection

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut, slight degradation, slight humiliation, all acts in this fic are consensual (taking part in any BDSM acts requires strict consent, safe words and aftercare)

———

You sighed as you turned off the shower, your body once warm from the water now cold. Droplets of water littered your skin as you reached for your towel. Wrapping it around yourself you could feel the fibres caressing your skin. You moisturised, towel dried your hair and cleaned your teeth, now feeling fully relaxed.

‘Simon!’ You called out, ‘showers free!’ But there was no response. ‘Simon?’ You called out again. Nothing. Feeling a little apprehensive you walked from the bathroom to your bedroom. ‘Simon? What’s the matter?’ He was sat slumped against the side of your four poster bed. Knees bent, resting his arms on them, fingers dangling as he stared at the floor.

He was home from a four month mission, you didn’t want to think about what he’d seen. What he’d done. He often zoned out when he came home, for the first few days at least. You approached him from the side, careful not to spook him, unsure of where his mind had taken him.

Crouching down you slid your arm around his shoulders, fingertips tracing each crease of his muscles. ‘Simon?’ You whispered, your other hand cupping his cheek as you pulled him to look at you. He looked tired. So tired. ‘It’s me. Are you ok?’ As he locked eyes with you he relaxed into the palm of your hand. Eyes softening.

‘I’m fine sweetheart. Just tired.’ His voice was quiet, but his eyes lit up at your touch, finally feeling your skin on his. Kissing his forehead you held him briefly, ‘come on, shower. I’ll order pizza.’ As you went to stand he pulled you in between his legs, pinning your back against his broad chest. ‘Simon! What’re you doing?’ You squealed, unable to contain your laughter.

Burying his lips into your neck he inhaled ‘fuck I’ve missed you sweetheart.’ You hummed as he littered your skin with gentle kisses. You’d missed him too. His smell, his smile, they way he’d hold you when you stirred in your sleep.

Stretching an arm he trailed his fingers along your barely covered thigh. ‘What’s under the towel?’ He purred as he nipped your ear. ‘You know damn well what’s under the towel’ you laughed, hitting his leg.

‘Show me.’

‘Are you being serious?’

‘Deadly.’

Undoing your towel it fell to your sides, exposing your naked body. Your breasts, your stomach, thighs. ‘Open your legs sweetheart’ he whispered, his breath tickling your neck. Suddenly feeling shy, you felt a heat rise to your cheeks, subconsciously tightening your thighs together. ‘I said, open your fucking legs.’

Using his boots he hooked them under your calves, spreading you open before him. Your stomach flipped as your heart pounded within you. Blood running hot at your vulnerable position. Using his free hand he snaked it up your throat, applying the smallest amount of pressure with his palm. His fingers wrapped around your jaw forcing you to stare directly at yourself in the floor length mirror.

Dragging a finger along your bottom lip he placed a delicate kiss behind your ear, his umber eyes stared at you from behind your head. ‘Look at that’ he drawled, voice low and thick, ‘so fucking pretty.’ Your breathing increased ten fold, nipples erect in the cool bedroom air, mouth suddenly dry. ‘Si-‘ you tried to whisper but he cut you off. ‘Shh shh shh’ he cooed, ‘wanna see this pretty little pussy pulse for me.’

Feeling your core clench you slightly rolled your hips, feeling a pressure already building. ‘Did my little whore like that? Does she want me to touch her?’ His words punched you over and over again, hearing him degrade you ignited a fire you never knew raged within you. ‘Fuck … yes’ you whimpered, voice shaking.

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes sir.’

Pulling your head right back he pressed his lips against yours, you felt him smile into the kiss. His fingertips still lingered on your jaw, moving in tandem with the kiss. His tongue was demanding yet gentle, a clear juxtaposition, just like him. Pulling away, he left his lips lingering over yours ‘cinnamon.’

You nodded in understanding, ‘cinnamon.’

Your safe word.

‘I want you to watch as I make your pussy scream’ he whispered as he dropped his hand from your jaw, still keeping you pinned to his burly chest. He hovered his middle finger over your slit, you flinched, feeling the electricity from him already. With one long languid stroke he gathered your arousal on his finger, your jaw fell slack as a deep moan exuded from your chest. Placing his finger on your tongue, you swirled your tongue around it. Tasting yourself.

‘Good girl, so obedient.’ This time he added his ring finger, gathering your arousal once more. He then settled on your clit, it was sensitive and firm. He drew small circles with his fingertips, watching as you squirmed beneath him. You dug your nails into his thighs, breath catching in your throat with every movement.

‘Fuck … Simon, please’ you groaned, back arching from his chest. ‘Tsk tsk, begging already, such a pathetic little slut aren’t you?’ He mocked.

‘Yes’ you just about managed to say in between breaths. ‘Yes what?’ He questioned as he tapped your weeping cunt. ‘Ah! Fuck, yes sir!’ Slapping it again he used his tongue to lick along your neck, causing you to shudder.

With no warning he plunged his two fingers into you, stretching your pussy open. ‘Would y’look at that? Greedily little thing’ he smirked. He thrust his fingers at a punishing pace, using a come hither motion as he massaged your core. You tried your best to keep your eyes on yourself, but it felt so good. Throwing your head back onto his shoulder, eyes screwed shut as he fucked you with his fingers.

The sound of your arousal filled the room, followed by your moans of pleasure. ‘Fingers are fuckin soakin love, that all f’me?’

‘God yes, all for you’ you panted. The cold air kissed your centre between each thrust, adding a new sensation amongst the already sensitive nerves.

Feeling your pussy getting tighter he added his thumb to your clit, pushing, urging you to find your climax. ‘Eyes on me’ he ordered, knowing you were close. Your head felt heavy as your core began to tighten, unable to open your eyes. Removing his fingers he slapped your pussy again before grabbing your jaw, the forceful movement causing your eyes to snap open.

‘Keep your fuckin eyes on me sweetheart’ he said sternly, ‘I want you to look at me when I allow you to cum.’ You wanted to cum so badly, you were so close, so fucking close. You nodded in his grip, eyes dropping to his lips before he pointed your face back at the mirror. You could feel his engorged cock at the small of your back, desperately wanting to feel it inside you.

As he pushed his fingers back inside you whimpered, feeling full once more. ‘This little slut gonna cum on my fingers?’

‘Yes’ you panted.

‘You gonna be a good little whore and lick your cum off my fingers?’

‘Fuck .. si … yes’ you whispered as you bit your lip, eyes locked with his in the mirror.

‘Atta girl, that’s it, give it to me.’

Adding his thumb back to your clit, your orgasm hurtled towards you. Muscles tense, toes pointed, back arched, you fought to keep your eyes open as you tipped over the edge. With a final thrust of his fingers and a swipe of this thumb you came, and you came hard. There was a gushing noise as you felt liquid drip from your core, your ass and thighs were soaking with your cum.

‘Oh fuck’ he whispered from behind you. Licking your lips you smiled, feeling complete and utter bliss. Turning your head you met his lips, kissing him deeply. He removed his hand and placed his fingers in between you, as you both cleaned your arousal off together. Tongues swiping over one another as you tasted your juices, strings of saliva connecting you both.

Once he felt his fingers were sufficiently clean he kissed your forehead tenderly. Wrapping both arms around you as he hugged you from behind. ‘Now i think I’m ready for pizza’ he smiled.

[gamblersdoll]

IT'S THE MATTER OF IT.

summary: after dying of hanahaki disease, youre reincarnated.. but you are the past lover of the king of curses.

WARNING: story contains sexual content, blood, gore, death of reader in first half.

"sukuna-sama." she said, bowing to the tallest man she's ever seen. she wasnt too afraid of him, but she gave him his respect he required.

"Y/N." he said, looking down at her. "are you still sick?" he asked, almost sounding worried.

was he even caring... of course not. he is sukuna after all.

"yeah. im not sure why." she said, shaking her head in a light chuckle. "ill be okay though."

"if you say so, Y/N." he said, turning his focus to uraume. the voices of the person you loved and cared for, and the person you were acquainted with drowned out.

if only you knew.

coughing violently, you covered your mouth and witnessed a petal falling into your hand.

you're fucking with me.. right?

you couldn't allow sukuna to witness that, then he'd either call you pathetic or actually showing true concern and hunting down whoever you were in love with and making them pay. but the first thought was that he truly wouldn't care.

or so you thought when you landed in a bedridden state, the flowers consuming your lungs and making it up to your esophagus and eyes, almost not being able to speak nor see.

"why on earth didn't you say anything? you know how dangerous this is!" uraume screamed, worried that their friend would die– no, you were dying for certain. you couldn't tell sukuna that you loved him. otherwise, he'd laugh.

"its... fine." you whispered, only a whisper is what you could do. or risk you damaging your throat from the thorns. "where is ryo..?" you asked, barely seeing uraume's white and red hair.

"he said he was coming, I don't know y/n..." they said, raking their hands through your locs, the locs that sukuna somewhat admired.

"is it okay if I nap? getting really sleepy." you asked , smiling softly until you again, violently coughed up blood and flower petals.

"... yeah." uraume said, leaving you to yourself. they walked out the room to see sukuna, conversing with him about you. how bad have you gotten? he didn't know.

he doesn't care.

the door opened and closed slowly, revealing a flower consumed you, your eyes have flowered out, but still managing to speak.

"who is it." he asked, glooming over you with worried eyes, but filled with.. rage? you didn't know. you couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"i..." you trailed off, wondering if it was worth telling him. you decided against better judgment, coughing for a bit until you could feel yourself slipping away from life, deciding it was time.

"you." you had said, "it was you...." until you took your last final breath, the prettiest, bloodiest flower consuming you whole , sprouting out your mouth, and eventually, your heart stopped beating. all your warmth had gone away.

sukuna stood there with a blank expression, his hands did tremble a bit, but only for a few seconds in counting. he thought about pumping your heart, but he knew by his strength and anger, he'd crush your ribs, stabbing through your lungs from the brutal force he'd press onto you.

"ill make you pay for putting me in such a position like this, you damned woman."

—————————————

"y/n, these are your classmates slash partners, nobara , megumi, annndddd... yuuji!" gojo had announced, clapping his hands together in glee. "y/n and yuuji, you'll be great friends!"

"why would we be." you deadpanned, folding your arms and tapping your foot. "why are you so excited anyway? it's nine in the morning."

you felt a pair of eyes on you, it felt... dangerous. like a curse is watching you. you didn't recognize them, but yuuji gave you the friendliest smile and shook your hand, while in sukuna's domain, he peaked through yuuji's cheek.

there is no way you're here, you damned woman.

[eustasskidagenda]

Eustass Kid x Reader : releasing anger

Resume : Kid is almost always mad at something, but when his anger is about to turn in pure rage, he looks for you to release all his anger with brutal, rough sex. It always soothes his nerves. CW : MDNI, g/n reader, rough sex, size kink, usage of "slut", angry sex, dirty talk, cursing (well, as always with Kid…), penetration (reader receiving), unprotected sex, fluff at the end, let me know if I forgot something

WC : around 1,580 words

The door brutally slams against the wall as Kid enters in your bedroom. Anger is shining, almost glistening in his beautiful amber eyes, his hands are shaking from the rage barely contained. Well. Nothing new. Kid is like a broken glass, and it's impossible to get close to him if you're afraid of getting hurt. He's tough, rude, forged in iron, fire and impulsiveness. And, at the same time, he never really opens up and just explodes when he doesn't know anymore how to keep his emotions in a bottle. He believes that his responsibility as a captain is solely his. At times, this burden is too heavy, even for him. Today marks the end of his bottle-up.

"What's wrong?" you ask, curious to know what just causes his anger, but he doesn't answer. It's likely a random act, a small dissatisfaction, a word. However, the final blow to his weak nerves. "I want you to be naked and on all fours," he grunts, closing the door behind him and already unbuckling his belts. You notice the slight shaking in his movements, as the rage consumes his whole body. You close the book you were reading. "You don't wanna talk about what's happening?" His red hair falls off his forehead after he removes his goggles. "Don't make me wait." He growls with gritted teeth, but you can hear a slight pleading in his voice. No matter how cruel Kid can be with his enemies, he would never do anything without your consent. He desperately needs to slam into you right now, but you know he would never force you. Luckily, today is a good day. And you're kind of horny. So you just shrug. "Fine." You say as he removes his heavy red coat, and then his shirt. The rhythm of his heavy breathing causes his bare, toned chest to rise quickly. Quickly, you take off your clothes. It's not the moment for some teasing, he's already about to explode. When you finally remove your underwear, Kid glances at your naked body, his hard cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. "Ass up, chest down," he barks. You crawl onto the bed and position yourself in the desired position, mentally preparing yourself for what is about to happen. You know that you can handle the roughness of your dear captain. Kid and his large cock are both familiar to you. In a hurry, he pulls his pants and underwear down and climbs onto the bed. "You better hold onto those sheets tight, because I'm going to fucking ruin you." Kid voice is cold, rough and thick with anger and desire. His hard cock twitches in anticipation as he rubs the head against your entrance. "I can take it. Don't hold back," you assure firmly. Roughly, Kid presses your lower back, forcing you to arch your back even more. His calloused fingers are already glued to your hips and ass. And, with one powerful push, he slams into you, filling you up to the brim. Your body feels stretched beyond belief, and you grasp the bedsheets, swearing, and burying your face in the pillow. "Fuck," Kid groans, his hips starting to pump roughly against you. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, along with your moans and Kid's grunts. The way he plows into you is rough, feral, and unkind. Each thrust is filled with pure rage. "Fuck, you're so tight." His hips slam into yours in a rough rhythm as he snarls. Hands glued on your ass, Kid grip is tight, almost painful and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow. He brutally slaps your ass cheeks, probably leaving a red mark on your skin. "Mine", he growls, spanking your ass once more. "That ass is being fucked by me alone". His thickness is so exquisite, it makes you spasm down there. You crave for more. For his rough touch, the way he always leaves hickeys and smeared lipsticks on the nape of your neck. You're his and only his, and you have always shown with pride all the bites he leaves on your body. It's like war paints on yourskin, and Kid loves this view. In all aspects, he is a conqueror, particularly in love.

Each powerful stroke leaves a stinging sensation behind. He's shoving into you with even more force than before, making his pace merciless and almost animalistic. The pleasure is intense, almost overwhelming. In this position, the penetration is just so deep. Your back is arched as Kid's cock hits the deepest good spots of your shivering body. But you know he can be even rougher. "Harder, don't hold back, I can take it" you moan. The pleasure is way too good, you're not even thinking of using your safe word. Kid growls in answer. Without any more words, he begins to thrust into you with a force that makes the air rush out of your lungs. Your body jolts with each powerful stroke, and your screams echo through the room. "You like being fucked rough like that, slut?" He snarls, slapping your ass. Your own pleasure overwhelms you, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You grab the bedsheets tightly, almost painfully, arching your back even better. You look so merciless, all sprawled, chest down on the mattress. The bed is loudly creaking and the headboard is slamming against the wall. Kid hands are probably leaving marks on your back and ass from his nails digging in. But you don't care, as long as he keeps fucking you like this.

And luckily, Kid's perfect view of his cock sliding in and out of your core is causing him to become even more lustful and rougher. His flesh hand leaves your ass and grabs your hair, holding onto a fistful, using it to guide his thrusts deeper into you. Your back is suddenly pressed against his chest covered in sweat, as he pulls violently on your hair. He bites your neck, leaving lipstick marks on your smooth skin everywhere. A shiver runs through your body as you feel Kid's hot breath against your ears. His pleasure grunts are nothing more than pure lustful melodies. So low, husky, feral, damn, his voice is always driving you crazy. Under his breath, he whispers your name, shoving his throbbing cock in and out of you, and brutally turning your head to kiss you with the hunger of a predator. At this moment, you can tell how much he loves you. By the way he leaves hickeys all along your neck, by the slight shudder in his voice as he repeats your name, the look he gives to you before pressing your head back against the pillow. Yes, Kid Love is fierce, but real.

The rage in his thrusts slowly fades away when you give yourself to him, replacing it with the same level of roughness, but with a subtle hint of tenderness. He caresses your back, your ass, and firmly gropes your cheeks. "Your ass is absolutely perfect," he praises, spreading your ass cheeks to witness even more how his cock is sliding in and out of your tight body. What a view. You feel his cock throbbing inside you, his ego fuelled by the way your body swallows his member. "You love taking my dick, don't you?" You mewl in response, almost reaching a climax. "You gonna take my cum, right?" You just scream a strangled yes, you just can't talk anymore. Your body almost burns as you brutally reach ecstasy, it's so great, so hot, so deep, and amazing. Your core tightens around the thick cock buried deep inside you, as you cum. Kid let out a low grunt of pure pleasure at the sensation. He cum inside you. Hard. With sloppy and rough thrusts. His seed is both hot and thick, and it fills you up. 

You collapse flat on the bed while trying to catch your breath. Kid doesn't pull out, he lies against your back, balancing himself to not completely crush you under his heavy muscles. Proudly, he kisses your neck, runs his finger along your hips, and leaves a bite on your earlobe. His cock is slowly softening within you. He sighs and pulls out, leaving the welcoming warmth of your body. He remains silent at first, just as he always does. His seed is flowing between your thighs. But you're too exhausted to move anyway, your legs and arms are shaking, you're short of breath, and your whole body is sore and bruised from the strong holds of your lover.

He suddenly stands up and exits the room without any words, completely naked. Quickly, he returns with a wet cloth. Leaving a trail of kisses down your spine, he quietly cleans you up. You know he will never say something as soft and nice as 'thank you', but his actions show how thankful he is right now. You've always accepted him, even with all his rage. Sometimes, he just doesn't understand what he has done to deserve someone like you. "There you go. Wait for me. I'll be right back soon." He returns a few minutes later with a glass of water and a slice of the cake that Killer made earlier. You gladly eat it before lying on the bed, your head against Kid chest.

As he runs his finger through your hair, there's no more anger in his touch. He's snoring loudly in less than five minutes, and it's hard not to admire his beauty with that soft expression on his face.

And no one, but you, knows about it.

End talk : please save me, I love Kid soooo much, he's sooooo ugh, I just can't. And I had a lot of fun writing this scenario! As always, I apologize for the potential mistakes or weird sentences. My requests are also open if you want, please check out my pinned post !!