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unintentionalseductress · 22 days ago

Note

Hi just dropping by to say I really love your work and wanted to ask about a request. If it's not your style then please delete.

I want to see a fic with Geto and a priestess! reader where Geto has to sleep with her to get benefits of her jujutsu power but it has to be witnessed as a rite in front of other members of the temple.

What do you think?

Well hello there! You've come to the right place! Nothing more delicious than some exhibitionism and freaky power exchange as a plot device to get the brain running!

Inner Sanctum

Warnings: MDNI, sex, exhibitionism, oral (female receiving), slight dominance, degradation, and LOTS of dirty talk A/n: I'm glad to be writing for JJK again, I know it's been a while. This fic idea gave me life. Not really proofread.

The room is dimly lit, illuminated by candles as a throng of elderly sorcerers quietly watch what is happening on the bed placed in the center. A naked pair leisurely kiss, their limbs erotically tangled with each other.

You were the strongest jujutsu priestess of your order. It was no surprise when the leader of the Star Religious Group requested a meeting with you. He had discovered an ancient book on sorcery, one that spoke of how divine feminine cursed energy could fortify a man’s. And of course, no one else had come to his mind except you.

It helped that you and Geto were familiar with each other, that you’d had that teasing love-hate relationship all these years. Often, you’d joked about him eventually giving in and admitting he needed you; and what a delight it had been to see your prediction coming true. With Geto’s rise to power it became increasingly apparent that while his jujutsu abilities were formidable, it would become even more so when paired with feminine energy.

Geto nibbles at the hot skin on your throat and you comb your fingers through his luxurious black hair that falls over his shoulders in waves. You catch the eye of the Elder sitting nearest to you and though they don’t look away, their composure remains intact. You huff at the lack of reaction but then again, you’re not sure why you were expecting one.

The Elders were there only for the sake of making sure nothing went horribly wrong. The entire ritual was a nuance of minor instances that could ruin the whole process if any of them went wrong. Although Geto’s ability for curse absorption made this process easier, there were no guarantees that the energy not not destabilize since it momentarily wouldn’t have a vessel once drawn out of your body. Though rare, the aftermath could be gruesome, hence why this group of stuffy ancients presided over you.

You were aware that this tryst would be monitored, but the lack of enthusiasm made it almost pedestrian. Observing the look on your face, Geto grins from between your breasts. “Something wrong?”

“I was promised an audience but I wasn’t aware they would be so boring.” You gasp as Geto bites a perked nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue as he suckles it into his mouth. He releases it with a wet pop and scoffs as you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Come now, priestess. Surely my presence should be more interesting than theirs?”

You roll your eyes at the comment but you’d be lying if you said Geto’s physique wasn’t impressive. As you’d disrobed before getting into bed together you’d seen his hard, chiseled, chest and abs, and the trail of curly hair from his belly button leading down to his cock. Even semi-erect, it was spectacular to look at. His face wasn’t bad either. Handsome, with a straight nose that ended in a cute curve at the tip. Having broad shoulders was a plus too; it meant you had something to grab onto.

“I suppose you are. But I almost wonder if we’re not being interesting enough based on the lack of enthusiasm.” You pause, as though hoping one of the Elders would break the silence but all that can be heard is the chirping of birds from the outside. Geto chuckles darkly.

“Oh. I didn’t realize we had a little exhibitionist on our hands here. Who’d have guessed?”

“A lady must maintain some form of mystique.”

“A lady?” Geto’s calloused hands tighten on your waist, fingers indenting into the soft flesh. “Now why would a lady be complaining that no one seems happy to watch her get fucked like a 2-cent whore?”

You’re about to retort but the words die in your throat as your brain registers what you had just been called. Geto smirks as he sees your demeanor change. “Aha. Now I see. You’re not interested in being a meek, accommodating priestess. No, you want to be used like a little slut in front of all these people, don’t you?”

His words are a smooth purr in your ear and despite the crudeness of it, you feel yourself getting turned on, your body responding powerfully to the verbal humiliation. Geto’s face looks positively delighted. “All these years of knowing you…how did I miss this?” He rolls off you and sits on the bed, dragging you in between his legs.

“Geto!” You call his name and you hear a chair shuffle slightly in the background and still, remembering what you’d been told about this ritual. The transfer of power worked as long as the woman was consenting. Your willingness was what allowed the flow of cursed energy from your body into his, and Geto’s curse absorption ability allowed him to assimilate it as you had sex. However, the slightest notion of consent being withdrawn meant an elder intervening to prevent a disaster.

You gather yourself, then allow Geto to maneuver you so that your back is against his chest. “There there,” he coos reassuringly at you, and the silky, sinful way the words roll off his tongue causes your heartbeat to quicken. The room's atmosphere changes, and you feel attuned to Geto’s every small move, from how his hands graze your flanks, to the gentle tickle of his hair as it slips over your shoulders like it’s your own. “It’s going to be ok little priestess. Let a more experienced man guide you hmm?”

He cradles your breasts in his large hands and pushes them up so that they’re right on eye level with the elder seated directly in front of you. “The Elders are forbidden from speaking during this rite, in case they upset our flow,” he murmurs in a sultry whisper. “But do you want me to tell you what they’re thinking?” He skims the pads of his thumbs over the hard peaks and you let out a tiny gasp. You watch the impassive face of the Elder even as Geto continues his wicked seduction. “He was probably thinking what pretty tits these are. And how he wishes he could be the one holding them right now.” He kneads the soft mounds and you moan quietly.

Instantly, Geto feels a change in your body, that slow, uncertain transition into a state of tentative surrender. Satisfied, he continues his filthy descriptions in your ear. “And these nipples of yours…” He gives them a soft twist, sending a rush of heat straight into your loins. Your clit pulses in response, and it feels uncomfortable to sit with your legs together. “Look at how they perk up, so ready to be tasted.” Geto’s head drops and you feel a swift lick on one of your nipples before the tip of his tongue teases you by not quite drawing it into his mouth.

“That’s right…give in. You’re just a needy little priestess. You want to be naughty so badly.” His fingers stroke a line between the valley of your breasts and you feel his erection brush against the base of your spine, hot and hard. You try to buck against him, your ass falling a few inches too short to grind against him. A sinful chuckle resonates in your ear.

“Can you possibly be any more desperate?” He loosens his grip and pushes you forward so that you’re kneeling. A surprised yelp flies from your lips as Geto smacks the round globe of your ass, leaving it red and jiggling. “Perhaps…you’d like this better if someone could see how wet this is making you.”

He moves so that your rear is visible to the group of Elders sitting behind him. He strokes the tender flesh, pushing your head down into the mattress and raising your hips higher. “They must get the best view after all.” You bite down on your lip, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how arousing this was for you. Each spank echoed across the room, punctuated by a lewd comment from Geto each time.

“You know it’s not uncommon for an orgy to occur after the two main sorcerers have finished their rite?” Your resolve slips and you let out a whimper as his hand comes in contact with your skin again. “They fuck in the same room, sometimes even on the same bed, to try and absorb the last vestiges of the strong energy that was exchanged. But if you’re not gonna get wet enough for them to reap the benefits…then what’s the point? Maybe we should check? Show them you have enough for everyone?”

You pant, saliva dripping from your mouth onto the sheets as your mouth hangs open. Any sorcerer worth their salt could sense how much of your cursed energy was being willingly given to Geto right now; the energy almost thrummed in the room, passing vibrations, and you could sense his aura, a mix of him and you, completely unique. Your eyes widen as you feel Geto’s hands rest on your abused rear.

“Shall we take a peek?”

Utterly exposed, you bury your face into the mattress as Geto spreads your ass cheeks and reveals the whole of your drenched pussy to the other side of the audience. You can feel their stares now, and unlike earlier when their presence had disinterested you, you now can’t stop thinking about Geto’s taunting descriptions and they looped through your mind like a song on replay. Was everyone internally turned on and doing their best to hide it? Were they really going to take off their clothes and have an orgy here after you were done? On this bed, which would be covered in your sweat, and with Geto’s cum and your slick juice?

Your thoughts are disrupted as you feel Geto stroke a finger in between your folds, gathering wetness from your core and sliding it over your throbbing clit. You let out an unbidden whine, your hole already clenching from imagined anticipation.

“Oh, that’s plenty. What a good girl, getting ready to make a mess on the bed.” His finger circles your slick entrance, dipping the tip inside and withdrawing, the negligible friction making you yearn, your abdominal muscles tightening from the sensation. After a few teasing strokes, he inserts the whole digit into you and your head whips up, uninhibitedly vocalizing your pleasure. The crowd silently watches you, witnessing how embarrassingly easy it was for Geto to break you.

Your fingers fist the sheets as he curls inside you, stroking the upper spongy walls, creating a sensation that seemed to crawl from deep within into your legs and toes. Your limbs quiver as he builds up the rising wave of heat tempering in your belly, biting down on the mattress to stop yourself from crumbling into a pile of lust.

How was this man so unfazed? Wasn't he naked too? His cock was standing proudly, weeping precum from the slit, his tip engorged and pink, obviously wanting to be buried inside you but yet you were the one on the verge of losing sanity. An impatient growl emanates from your throat, and just when you thought you could find some semblance of control, Geto inserts a second finger into you, scissoring inside and pistoning his fingers in and out of your lewdly squelching flesh. The noises of slick wetness seem to grow louder within the silence of the room. Your voice keens as Geto continues to stroke your inner walls, finding the perfect rhythm and playing with that little patch of nerves inside you.

“You're leaking all over me priestess.” The raven-haired man taunts as he withdraws his fingers and you collapse on the bed in disappointment, feeling empty and pathetically unsatisfied. Fingers drag through your hair, gathering it at the base of your head and pulling it back so that you can glimpse what he's trying to show you. Geto's fingers glisten with your essence, sticking ever so slightly and forming strings in between his fingers. Your mouth hangs open as you try to catch your breath, the sight so perverted and yet arousing at the same time. He brings them up to your lips. “Taste yourself.” The fluid is smeared onto your tongue and you taste the tangy salt of your pussy, mouth closing around him to suck, coating his fingers with saliva. You see the Elders’ eyes flick briefly to Geto’s face before they fall back onto you, ever impassive once more.

“Ah, they’re jealous of me. Jealous of the effect I have on you.” Geto continues his deviant storytelling. “Bet they’ve never had a woman so wet and eager for them in their whole life.” Almost tenderly, he pushes away the hair obscuring the back of your neck and trails his lips down, leaving little ticklish sensations along your spine. You gasp as his teeth sink into your shoulder blade, then into your neck, his hand cupping your chin and directing it away so that he can leave a mark. He huffs in satisfaction as the little red hickey blooms on your skin. “You give the most sweetest reactions to me.”

You’re caught off guard as Geto suddenly flips you onto your back, gazing up at his face. He looms over you, a predator surveying its iitsprey. “I daresay you’ll never make the mistake of being more invested in the reactions of some stuffy old sorcerers than me from now on.” He straddles your hips and captures your wrists, pinning them over your head as you writhe underneath him.

“From now on?” You manage to ask.

“Yes. Is it audacious for me to say I don’t think any other sorcerer is worthy of this body after I’m done with it? Or that I don’t think anyone else will fuck you the way you want to be fucked?” His head dips to suckle at your breast. Moaning and unable to deny him, you part your legs, arching your body upwards to catch the tip of his cock between your folds, wantonly rubbing it against your sensitized flesh. The denied orgasm was still on your mind and you grind your worth on your clit, the soft friction doing barely anything to ease the ache. Soft laughter is heard against your breast.

“See? This is what I mean. You’re a woman of varied tastes. Can you live for the rest of your life always being fucked like a princess? Can you be satisfied knowing no one can draw out the whore in you like I do? Look at yourself, so desperate to cum and make a mess all over me.” Geto licks his way down to your bellybutton. “Can you sense how eager your body is to exude all this cursed energy for me? It’s responding to me, little priestess. The more I can bring you to the edge and drown you in your desire for me to fuck you, the better. Your aura is ripe with the scent of unmet need. Are you surprised?” He nibbles your pubic bone and you realize what he’s about to do, a jolt running through your body.

“You’re only doing this for your benefit,” you choke out unsteadily. “The more cursed energy I produce, the more that is available to fortify yourself.” Geto pauses, his eyes gleaming up at you hungrily from between your legs.

“Is that so? Well, then for my benefit, you better cum like your life depends on it. And trust me, priestess, I’m not letting you out of this bed until you’ve cried out my name begging for mercy.” His breath ghosts your soaking folds before his thumbs push them apart. Your clit throbbed with heat and need, your arousal staining the sheets as your hole fluttered. The first lick of his tongue has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your world is upside down, the order of Elders all flipped the wrong way as your hips rise in frantic need to meet his mouth. Those soft, wet, strokes were pushing you to the brink, a pleasant skitter accompanying each movement.

You sob and push against him, his flow unfaltering and consistent, and against your will, his name falls from your lips. “Geto…” you whimper as your hand tangles with his long hair, tugging hard enough to bring a tingling pain into his roots. He doesn’t stop but you could've sworn you heard a muffled growl of triumph before his lips seal around your clit, sucking possessively. The noise you make is positively animalistic, the fresh pull of tension coiling your belly like a snake waiting to strike. It was too much. Pops of color form behind your closed eyelids as Geto drives you to the peak. You feel yourself staring into the abyss, then with a final breath, leap off the edge.

The candles flicker as cursed energy pours from you, and Geto is enveloped by a purple aura as he continues to feast on your sweet flesh, power pouring into his veins at your submission. He feels each spasm and quiver of your clit in his mouth and sees the way your core trembles with the lack of being filled. When the tremors stop, he wastes no time.

You’re in a daze, floating on a cloud when Geto kneels in between your legs, sinking into the mattress as he draws your legs up under your knees, and brings them back up onto your chest. You look at him questioningly, and for the first time throughout this ritual, he offers you a reassuring smile. “Keep breathing for me.” He strokes your cheek before aligning himself with your entrance, holding back a hiss at how tight you feel as his tip notches into the empty space. With a groan, he sinks his cock into you, marveling at the way your part for him, the slick, heated velvet filling his senses. The aura surrounding him now enfolds you too joining your bodies as the cursed energy begins to flow freely.

Your sighs mix with his grunts as he sheathes himself, his hips lying flush against yours as he bottoms out, the invitation too tempting to not lose himself. He withdraws, then pushes forward, setting up a pattern that brings ecstasy into his veins. It was almost mind-numbingly painful to remember the point of this ritual. He struggles as he keeps his cursed technique active, swallowing the portion of power you’re sharing with him greedily. The overwhelming need to not have to focus on this task, to bury himself deep inside you and fuck you till he came gripped him like a beast, its claws digging into his being. Even as both energies mingle and resonate within him, he’s reduced to his base desires like a common man rather than a special-grade sorcerer.

“Fuck,” he bites out, his teeth gritted as sweat beads on his forehead. “Pussy sucking me in like that…sure you want me taking this energy?” His eyes darken as you whine and moan underneath him, then nod. The willingness displayed in your expression, and your body humbles him. “Shit priestess. Gonna make me lose my goddamn mind.” He gathers you to him, his hands holding onto you so tightly as the cursed energy surges. His nails dig into your flesh and you realize he’s on the verge of losing control, his technique barely maintained at its current level as he struggles with the raging desire inside him.

Even as his technique feeds on your offering, you can feel the fluctuations in his cursed energy. With a curse, Geto abandons his last attempt at trying to absorb more. His mouth covers yours as he kisses you, both your sounds of pleasure swallowed by the other as he chases his orgasm, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of your slick channel. Your hands slide up to hook over his shoulders and you cling to him, the only solid thing your senses could perceive. The noise of skin slapping on skin fills the room, the thump of his balls hitting your ass punctuating his movements as he tries to get himself to climax. His belly tightens, and he can feel his balls scrunching up in anticipation as he prepares to empty himself.

The candles snuff out, plunging the room into darkness, and a primal noise is all that can be heard as Geto finally succumbs, his cock twitching inside you as thick jets of cum paint your walls. You stay locked in his embrace, the purple aura glowing mysteriously around you both and as Geto starts to come down from his high, it flickers and eventually vanishes.

Your face is buried in his shoulder, your breathing unsteady, and then your eyes crack open at the sound of applause. The Elders are on their feet, clearly celebratory at the success of the ritual. You gaze up at Geto who seemed to be in a trance, his softening cock still buried inside you. His eyes glance at the elders before he issues a single command.

“Out.” The word rang sharply through the room and the Elders falter, clearly confused at his lack of excitement. But with the menacing look that appears on his face, they retreat, leaving the chamber and shutting the door behind them. Once the room is empty, Geto turns his attention back to you. He eases his body out of yours, and you feel the perverse slip of his cum trickling out of you. You lie back on the sheets, spent and exhausted.

“I thought the Elders were going to have an orgy now,” you tease as Geto flops onto the sheets. He grins lazily at you.

“Not yet. I’m not done.”

“Not done?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “But the ritual was a success.”

“Practice makes perfect. I wasn’t quite prepared this time. Lots of energy to still be collected.”

“You want more?” you ask incredulously. “There’s a fine line between ambition and greed Geto.”

“It blurs with you.” He pulls you against his sweaty body. “Besides, it’s not like you’re lacking for cursed energy. You made plenty of it just now.”

You roll your eyes. “Do we have to bring those old geezers back in here again?”

Geto laughs nodding. “Unfortunately. But not today.” He kisses your hair. “Didn’t I say I wasn’t letting you out of this bed until you were begging for mercy?”

“But…what if something goes wrong and…” Comprehension suddenly dawns on you and you smirk. “Oh. I see. You don’t want to activate your technique again.” You giggle naughtily as Geto rolls onto his back and you rest your head on his chest. He looks amused at your realization.

“I just want to fuck you like the slut you deserve to be. And then maybe once like a princess too.”

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 8 months ago

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Worship

a/n I won’t say anything because what is there to say… Also, this is fiction idk why but I just feel the need to wave that flag here.

Summery: Just on stage shenanigans between you, the back singer, and the boys.

warning: no full on smut because there’s so much of that as it is but they are sex on legs so this does have sexual implications. I’m just a girl. And I feel like I should go confess my sins to someone.

All of them x reader

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nothing truly beats the feeling of the stage lighting beaming on you. The radiant atmosphere and the beating of the crowd in front of the stage. It got addictive fast. And the rush of both adrenaline and freedom you never truly got over. Most of the time, it still felt like a dream. Like you weren’t there. There weren’t four other people. A whole band that people swooned over.

You still remember the notification of the private message in your DMs. “We’ve seen your videos. The voice is to die for. Up to back us up?” You had stared at it for hours. Pressing the profile over and over again, convinced that one of the times it would take you to some scammy account, but it didn’t. So you took that leap of fate, and the roller coaster that unfolded still made your skin tingle at times.

“How you don’t break an ankle in these is beyond me," II grumbled, gesturing to the high heels you were strapping around your legs. Before throwing the towel he had just used to dry his hair with, at you. You huffed back, “Of course you wouldn’t know; you sit and look pretty the whole show." You shot him an overly exaggerated smile before flipping him off. “Put the claws away, baby," he said, lifting his hands up, “I would love to keep my eyes for some time longer." You lifted both of your hands, making sure to flex the black coffin-shaped nails, only earning a chuckle in return from II.

“No form of violence is allowed backstage," III cut in, putting the mask over his face, “Unless it’s consensual, of course." The three of you snickered. There was never a dull moment with them. You weren’t sure exactly why you imagined them to be all cold and unapproachable, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. From the silly hats they happily took from the fans to messing around on stage barking. “We’re out in thirty," IV's voice cut through the snickering. “Vess?”, you questioned, standing up only to still feel tiny among them. It was unfair how even killer heels had you feeling minuter. “In his element, ready to go," the usual then. You turned to the mirror while doing the last checkups. Fiddling with the straps of your dress.

“Headset feels good?”, warm hands slipped up your beck, fidgeting with the wires as if he even knew what he was doing. “You just needed an excuse to put your hands on me, sir," you said, pushing back against IV’s chest. He already had his mask on, but from the way his blue eyes flickered, you knew he was smirking at you. “You can’t call the man guilty if you haven’t caught him red-handed, darling," he muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “And to my defense, the wire wasn’t plugged in," he snickers before pulling back. You shook your head as you watched him follow after the boys out. Reaching for your mask, you take a couple of deep breaths to steady your heartbeat. It was going to be a night to remember. You could just feel it.

And your gut wasn’t wrong. The crowd was wild tonight, and that always set the bend into a different kind of frenzy. For most of the shows, you were usually up there on your pedestal. Looking like a vision cloaked in both light and darkness, there were some songs that Vessle liked having you down there with him. But you always felt almost guilty. You didn’t want the fans to feel like you were there to change the dynamic. Let alone take up a spot that wasn’t yours to take.

So when you noticed Vessel striding towards you, you couldn’t help but silently shake your head. They had already all been all over each other all night. But you don’t get to run through all of your reasons as to why this was a bad idea before Vessel was in front of your pedestal. Hands reaching up for your ankles before he pointed for you to get down. You shook your head at him, continuing to sing your part. Not wanting the interaction to seem odd, you sank to your knees so you can touch his face, only realizing how wrong this move was once Vessel's hands grip the sides of your hips and you’re airborne before you can even blink.

A small shriek slips past your lips as you hold onto his shoulders. But no matter what your reaction to this was, he was all smug about it. His white teeth bright against the black paint covering his body. “I don’t like it when you put on unnecessary fights," he mused before turning back to the crowd. So, you let the thrill of the beat take over. Playing into the role of the masked goddess. A siren. That was the beauty of the mask. Such little thing making the biggest difference. Giving one the chance to feel way more confident.

And it’s II your legs take you to first. His eyes follow your movements all across the stage. With the drum set taking most of his platform he was sat on, playing games with this man was tricky. But it wasn’t impossible. So you slither behind him. Placing your hand on top of his head, you carefully make him look up at you. That same moment, the heel II was so found off finds its way between his parted legs. Without missing a beat, his face is pressed into your upper thigh, fingers dipping beneath the mesh overlay of your dress. And you know there will be hell to pay later on from the way he’s gripping your ankle. You push his face away from your body, throwing him a lighthearted kiss as you hurry down the platform stairs. The roar of the crowd filling all of your senses.

III is left to your mercy next. And since his eyes were all over you, you knew that even if you were to walk right past him, he would follow you across the stage. So you stand there, motioning with your fingers for him to come to you. Right as your part of the solo vocals came. Ones that boys even called your siren song. You let the melody pour out of you. Watching III sink to his knees in front of you. Your brain blanks for a moment as he leans forward, and you just know why the crowd erupts in chaos. So your fingers find his head, pulling him even closer. Let him paint the picture of devouring you. Worshipping you. And you’re yet again so thankful for the mask covering your face because you know that your face would be as red as the paint on his skin. Especially after he stands back up. Fingers moved to brush over his lips as if he was cleaning them.

You can feel someone’s eyes burning holes in your body, and you’re not even one bit surprised to see IV with his eyes blazing. He was the one you flirted the most with backstage as well. Since day one, there was just that mutual fire you both shared. So the back and forth between you both was never-ending. But if there was one thing IV avoided, it was making any move towards you while everyone was on stage. And while boys took their sweet time being lunatics when it came to you. His play pretend ended with his bandmates. Yet you didn’t miss the glances he threw your way. Or how he would find himself close to your pedestal, close enough to touch but never leaning in.

And while your head was telling you that maybe he just didn’t want to get involved, your heart was telling you to take yet another leap of faith. So you two stood in front of each other for a heartbeat. And right as Descending’s you came crawling back to me, filled the stage. Your finger hooked beneath the bottom of his mask as you pulled him closer. No matter the blast of sounds around you, you could still make out the growl that slipped past his lips. And since his eyes promised hell, you threw all caution to the wind as you leaned in, smashing your lips against his. You didn’t let it linger for too long; there was little fun in having two masks between you both, but it got the point across well enough.

IV’s hand reached for you as you moved back away. A freaked-out giggle slipped past your lips as you darted towards your last victim for the night. Well, and shelter now, considering that you had to get away from IV. Vessel was someone you knew had to be worshipped in front of the fans. You weren’t living under a rock. His hands and fingers had separate fan blogs, not to mention his carved-out chest muscles. So you slipped behind him. Letting your fingers trail the sides of him. Finding the sweat-drenched skin. Dragging your nails over the paint, no doubt leave claw marks in its way.

You rested your head against Vessel’s beck for a heartbeat, hoping to slip from behind him with ease. But you couldn’t have been more wrong because the moment you took the reassured stride away from him. A firm hand gripped your hair as he carefully, yet rather possessively, dragged you back to him. Pulling your head back so he could look down at you, shaking his head. But the smile gave his controlling demeanor away. “Whatever will we do with you, little Vixen?" You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. Playfully pushing at his chest, you slipped out of his grip. Swaying your hips as you slowly climbed back to the steps of your pedestal. Not letting your brain think of the hell you just set ablaze.

#sleep token x reader #sleep token imagine #sleep token x oc #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token ii x reader #sleep token iii x reader #sleep token iv x reader #sleep token vessel x reader

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gurugirl · 5 months ago

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THE COUNT | {vamprry} a preview

Series Summary: Count Styles lives on an island you’ll not find on any map. He’s lived in relative solitude for ages and is happy to have the rare occasional guest who accidentally runs into his small slice of the world, though they may not be as thrilled by his intentions once they find out what he is.

When Y/n's weather vessel crashes into his island one stormy night he greets her and offers her shelter in his castle while she waits for someone to help repair her boat. She soon comes to adore the strange and charming man and grows a worrying attachment. But she cannot help herself. No matter how much she learns about the Count and how strange her world has become she cannot seem to pull herself out of the haze of his alluring spell.

Even when her life depends on it.

Short preview below.

NOTE: this preview is from part 2

. . .

Pressing her ear closer to the door she closed her eyes and there was a distinct male voice, a sobbed moan that, after a loud thud, turned into something like a pitiful crying. But then she heard another voice and there was something familiar in the way it cooed and teased almost. She could not make out words but the sentiment was clear. There were two people in that room having sex and one of them was Harry. The other sounded to be a man.

Stepping back from the door she realized her mouth was hung open in surprise. Perhaps the Count was into men. Well, he was quite pretty. She could imagine that she supposed. Before she could even turn around the sounds behind the door stopped and the silence that suddenly surrounded her had her heart picking up a beat. Had she made a noise?

She swallowed and turned her head to see her door open down the hallway and wondered if she could make it quickly before anyone knew that she’d been listening in.

But the moment that thought popped into her head the door opened up and there was Harry in a long white cotton pijama, the top unbuttoned and nearly draped off his shoulder. She glanced over his frame and back up to his eyes but he was different. His irises were almost black and his mouth was set strangely, like he had swollen gums, “Would you like something, Y/n?”

Shaking her head she stepped back, “No. Sorry. I… heard something… nothing. I’m going back to bed. Sorry!”

She turned to move away but he stopped her, his hand wrapped around her upper arm, making her twist back to face him, “Are you sure don’t want anything?”

She darted her eyes behind him to the room he’d been in and it appeared to be lit by a fireplace. She saw something move across the doorway but couldn’t make out what (or who) it was.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you. That… I was just worried…”

He smiled, his lips covering his teeth as he closed the door behind him and stepped in dangerously close, holding her arm to keep her from inching away. He looked down at the dirtied material tucked under her arm and he grunted softly, “Oh my. What is this?”

Letting go of her arm he plucked the defiled sheets and nightgown from her and dropped the sheet to the floor, his hands crumpling around the white fabric, thumb dragging into the slippery wetness where her arousal had dripped.

She felt herself flush hot with embarrassment as she watched the Count inspect the damage she’d done to her nightgown. It was obvious what it was he was looking at.

“Poor, Y/n,” his dark eyes met hers as he lifted his thumb to his mouth and ran the pad of his digit against his tongue, eyes fluttering closed when he swallowed.

All of the breath in her lungs was caught and now the flush of heat was forming in her tummy as she watched him enjoy the taste. Her taste.

His jaw clenched as he opened his eyes and looked down at her, dark irises raking over her frame and then back up to her face, a deep exhale escaping his chest, “We’re all carnal beings, Y/n. There’s no shame in the body’s natural reaction to an arousing dream. All you have to do is call for me next time and I’ll make the emptiness go away. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She couldn’t blink or look away from him. She was trapped by his haunting gaze as he drew a finger from her jaw up to her temple and then back down until he’d gently scraped his nail over her pulse point, pressing in just enough to make a small indent bite into her flesh, before lifting and pushing his nail in crosswise against the same spot.

“X marks the spot. Doesn’t it, Y/n?”

She gulped, “What’s that mean?”

Harry lowered his face close to hers. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, “If you ask politely,” he wrapped his hand around the side of her neck, thumb dragging against her jaw, “I’ll show you what it means.”

. . .

This series will only be on Patreon! If you liked this preview, consider joining my Patreon for more exclusive content like this.

xoxo

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ghost-in-the-hall · 11 months ago

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Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VII

*inhales aggressively* VESSEL CHAPTER!!!!!! FINALLY!!!! Reader has a talk with the boys about what exactly happened with the night's kissing incident, after so much time of him being a bit distant towards reader Vessel decides to let his softer side show, plus more moments with III because I'm in love with him and I can't help myself sorry not sorry hehe I can't wait to know what you all think of this chapter thank you all so much for all the wonderful comments. If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!!

WARNINGS: discussion of boundaries, proposals of a polyamorous relationship (I tried my best to make it realistic but I, myself, am not polyamorous), fluffy stuff per usual. NOT PROOFREAD

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Part VI - Part VIII

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The sight before you almost made you want to laugh. The four grown men that sat in various seats around your living room almost resembled a group of school kids waiting anxiously outside the principal's office. “I’m sorry.” III was the first of them to speak up.

“No, if anything I should be the one apologizing.” II quickly follows, both of them unable to even look in your direction.

“I’m not upset at either of you, I’m just… confused.” You respond softly.

“It started off as simple crushes; me, IV, III, Ves.” You noticed Vessel’s shoulder tense as he was dragged into this conversation as well. “We all think you’re beautiful-”

“And very sweet.” III adds on. You can’t help the subtle smile that finds its way to your lips at their compliments.

“We could tell things had gotten a little more serious between you and III so we all decided to back off. But, I can’t lie to you,” II chuckled, “I’m a very jealous man. So when someone tries to keep me from what I want I don’t typically respond the best.”

“And I don’t feel right asking you to commit solely to me when you clearly have feelings for II, as well.” III adds his piece. You found it odd, there was no anger in his voice at the thought of you with his friend. “I guess what we’re trying to say is, um…” he trails off, looking to II as he searches for the right words to say.

“How would you feel about dating all of us?” Vessel breaks the thick tension with his blunt question. You felt like all of the air had been punched from your lungs, your heart jumping into your throat as your head snapped in his direction.

“Vessel, you can’t phrase it like that!” IV groans from his spot on your couch, dropping his head into his hand.

“What? She's a big girl, you don't need to beat around the bush.”

“Dating… dating all of you?” You finally mutter after a few moments of shocked silence.

“Obviously only if you're comfortable with that.” III stands from his seat, slowly stepping closer to you. “You don't have to say yes to any of this. It doesn't matter if you want to date only me, or if you would be okay dating all of us. Hell, after dropping this on you, there's a chance you might not want to see any of us ever again.” You didn't miss the nervousness that laced its way into his laughter. III was genuinely scared that this was going to fully push you away. “But, it's about what you want, that's the important part.”

“And you're all okay with this?” You would be lying if you tried to say you didn't find the offer very appealing. Every member of the group that sat before you drew you to them in one way or another, they were definitely an attractive bunch to put it lightly; III with his subtle intensity, who was always making you laugh, II who would turn you into a flustered mess with his sweet words, IV who’s easily excitable nature and blind confidence when it came to complimenting you made your heart thrum in your chest, Vessel who lets his hand linger on your waist as he maneuvers around you doing restock days, who holds your gaze for perhaps a little longer than necessary when wishing you goodbye at night. But, could you really handle four relationships?

“The way we see it, we’d rather share you with others who we know are going to take good care of you than to be forced to hold our tongues about how we feel about you.” II explains.

“I…” you trail off as you look between the four of them. “I need some time to think.” Your voice shook slightly as you spoke.

“Of course.” Vessel responds. Without another word II, III, and IV stood, quietly said their goodbyes to you and left your apartment. Vessel hung back for a moment, waiting for III to fully shut the door behind him before breathing out a sigh. “I'm sorry that all of this happened the way it did. I kept telling them to wait to bring it up.” His gaze drops to you, who was silently fidgeting with your fingers as you leaned against the wall.

“I can always tell them to back off, love.”

“No, you don't have to do that.” You brush him off. “It's nothing to do with any of you, you're all incredible. It's just- it's me, that's what the problem is.” You tried to force a laugh to prove to Vessel that you were fine, his unchanging expression let you know immediately that he saw right through you. “You're all so wonderful, and the fact that you would be willing to make such a huge compromise.” You stare through the slits of his mask, believing you were meeting his eyes. “What if it's not worth it?”

You didn't have time to register what was happening before Vessel was in front of you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I know I might not be as… prominent with my acts of affection as the others.” He pulls back slightly, one large hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as your eyes instinctively rise to look at him. “But, considering II put things out in the open, I need you to know that I care for you viscerally.” The soft growl that found its way into his voice made your cheeks grow warm. “I don't want you to feel pressured into anything you don't want, but I need you to understand that there has not been a single moment since I met you that would make me think any of this wasn't worth it.” You blink slowly as a hand comes to rest on the top of your head, comfortingly patting the spot. “Would it be alright if I came and checked in tomorrow?” You nod, reluctantly letting your hands fall away from their position pressed against his chest as he stepped back, his warmth fading away with it.

“Goodnight, Ves.” Your voice cracked slightly as you tried to keep your overwhelming emotions in check.

“Goodnight love, rest well.”

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You watched the second hand on the clock tick, bringing you closer to when Vessel would usually make his nightly supply runs. You hadn’t managed to sleep at all the night prior, tossing and turning as you played through every scenario you could think of as you made your decision. At the sight of the familiar pick up truck rumbling into the lot you felt your heart race. “This is it.” You muttered out loud to the empty store. “No going back now.” He poked his head through the door before fully entering.

“You still open?” He offers you a playful smile.

“No, but for you I'll make an exception.” You giggle in response. He slowly steps inside and approaches the counter.

“How’d thinking on things go?” He rests his elbows on the counter, bringing him closer to face level with you.

You set a hand down on the counter, Vessel cautiously reaching out to take it in his own. He hesitates for a moment, his hand drawing back slightly as if he was preparing to pull away. His fingers were rough against the soft skin of your hand when he finally decided to take his, his thumb running languidly across the peaks and valleys of your knuckles as he waited patiently for your response. “I want to take things slow… but the thought of having all of you to myself is a little too good to pass up.” He breathes out a chuckle, flashing you a sharp smirk that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Is that so?” He mulls over how to respond to your statement for a moment. “How about I make us dinner and we can sit down and talk about how slow you want to take things, just so we can make sure everyone is on the same page.”

“You want to cook me dinner?” You shoot him a playful smile. “Is it going to be edible?” He bellows out a laugh in response.

“You're funny, you know I've been told I'm a wonderful cook.” He points an accusatory finger at you, standing up to collect what ingredients he needed from around the store. “Just you wait and see, this is going to be the best damn meal you've ever eaten.”

The whole thing was a bit strange in the best way. If he hasn't told you so directly you would've sworn that Vessel thought of you as little more than an acquaintance. But now, you were sitting on your kitchen counter, a glass of white wine swirling around in your hand, rolling your eyes playfully at all of Vessel’s terrible jokes as he made the two of you dinner. He asks you where you keep your plates, you easily reach into the cabinet behind you and produce a pair, holding them out to him with a soft smile. He carefully plates the pasta he made, penne with bacon and spinach and some type of cream sauce he had pulled together with odds and ends from your pantry. “It smells incredible.” He saunters in front of you, trapping you on the counter by placing a hand on either side of your waist.

“And here you were questioning my culinary skills.” He feigns a hurt tone before a soft chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Come on beautiful, let's go eat.” He pulls away from you, your body trailing after his warmth. You pad your way into the living room, Vessel close behind as he carries your plate for you. You sat close together on the couch, angling yourself to better face him. “So, define slow.” He jumps in immediately.

“Let me at least get a couple bites in.” Vessel can't help but smile at your teasing tone. “I just… I don’t know. This is all so different I don't think I can really tell you what going slow even means.”

“Well, I can assure you that all of us care a lot about how you feel during all of this.”

“And I know that.”

“I think you're worried about more than just taking things slow, love. What's on your mind?” The softness to his tone immediately lulled your anxious mind into a sense of safety.

“I'm worried about things developing quicker in certain relationships than others, I just don't want that to cause any of you to fight.” You absentmindedly twisted your fork around in your fingers, studying it as you tried to put into words what was racing through your mind.

“That might happen, but if it does it's alright. Unfortunately that's just something we have to deal with.” He chuckles. “There's no doubt in my mind that you would be more comfortable moving a bit quicker with III than you would with me, he started flirting with you from the start. We all know that you're in various stages of getting to know us, we're more than willing to give you time to figure all of that out.” Hearing him being so reassuring made the heaviness weighing in your chest lighten considerably. “Is there anything else I can do to ease that pretty little head of yours?” You slowly shake your head no before pausing. You looked at the man before you, swallowing thickly as you mulled over an idea. Vessel was an enigma to you even after months of knowing him. He was aloof, quiet, but the few rare instances he let part of his personality break through you could tell just how wonderful he could really be.

“Dance with me?” The question hung in the air for a moment before Vessel wordlessly rose to his feet.

“I will warn you, I'm not much of a dancer.” He chuckles, outstretching his hand for you to take. His palm was warm against your fingertips; the smudged edges of his paint were a stark contrast to the pale skin underneath.

“What a shame, neither am I.” You giggle in response before he pulls you to your feet. He looks around the room, making a small sound of affirmation to himself before pushing your coffee table out of the way to open up the space. You walked over to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, clicking on your radio and letting the soft tune crackle to life. Vessel stood in the center of the room, hands shoved into his pockets as he waited for your return, a soft smile settling onto his lips.

“You look really beautiful today.” He says softly, one strong arm reaching out for you and wrapping around your waist when you were within reach. Your fingers intertwine with his, Vessel watching carefully as each delicate digit slotted between his own. Your cheeks grow warm as you timidly accept the compliment. You had never been this close to Vessel before, feeling the way his muscles tensed and shifted under the hand that rested on his shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. You were unable to tear your eyes away from him, the intricate detailing along the edge of his mask highlighting how wide and bright his smile was as he gazed down at your flustered form. The music you had turned on was non existent at this point, the only thing mattering at this point in time was Vessel finally allowing you the briefest glimpse inside his walls. You managed to trip over your own feet, yelping slightly as you stumbled into him. “Easy now, I got you.” He chuckles, helping to steady you on your feet. “If you're going to faint at least wait until I kiss you for the first time.” He jokes

“Already thinking about kissing me, huh?” You smile coyly

“It'd be hard not to with a pretty face like that.” You let out a flustered laugh, your eyes dropping to the floor. You jumped when there was a sudden knock on the door. You reluctantly pull out of Vessel’s grasp, his fingers trailing across your waist as he tries to remain connected to you until the last possible moment. You slowly open the door, not knowing who to expect on the other side so late. You froze when your eyes landed on III, who was nervously swaying his heels on the creaky wooden landing outside. The moment he realized you had answered he immediately began to ramble.

“I'm sorry, I know you said you needed time to think and I absolutely respect that. I just, I know we kissed, and if you decide you don't want to go through with this I don't want it to make things weird-”

“III.” His mouth snaps shut as you softly say his name. You look back into your living room, Vessel’s head rested in his hand, he seemed mildly annoyed to be interrupted. Not knowing how to respond, you simply pushed the door wide open, III’s attention immediately drawn to Vessel. “We were actually just talking about that.” His eyes widen slightly, his gaze switching between you and his friend.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt-”

“I was just leaving, actually.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. You turn to face him as he walks up to you. He cradles your face in his hand, “tonight was wonderful, I hope we get to do this again soon.” He swipes his thumb across your cheek, leaving a thin black streak in its wake. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, Ves.” You respond breathlessly. You turn to face III, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before reaching out and taking his hand, tugging him inside your apartment. His eyes stay locked on you as he follows you through the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “I really enjoyed, um… kissing you last night was really nice.” You let out a flustered laugh. “I don’t want you to worry that you made things weird.”

He chuckles, “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He stuffs his hand in his pockets, shifting his weight awkwardly. “I hope that talk you guys were having was a good one.”

“I think you’ll be very satisfied with the outcome.” You giggle. He gazes at you curiously, the usual playful sparkle back in his eyes when he realized he hadn’t scared you off.

“Is that so?” He saunters closer to you, his towering height and intense gaze threatening to make your knees buckle. “You let me know if any of this is moving too fast, okay?” He says sweetly, gently cupping your jaw.

“Okay.” You smile up at him. He trails his thumb over your bottom lip, his bright blue eyes darting around your features as he drank in the sight of you.

“You are simply gorgeous, love.” He whispers after a moment of silence.

“You flatter me too much.” Both hands slide around your waist, gently pulling you flush against him.

“I'm only telling my girl the truth.” He smiles. Your eyes flash up to meet his, the declaration of being his girl making your heart flutter in your chest. “Well, it seems like we have the night to ourselves. What would you like to do?” Wordlessly you take one of the hands that had settled against the curve of your hip, guiding him towards your couch. You threw on a movie, something mindless that you didn't need to pay attention to. Tonight was about spending time with III. No distractions, no hidden feelings, just you and someone who made you feel like a girl experiencing her first crush all over again. III takes you in his arms, laying back and pulling you on top of him in the process. One arm resting comfortably behind his head, the other slung over your waist as the two of you cuddled in a comfortable silence. “You know, I was really worried all of this would make you never speak to me again.” He speaks up after a while through a quiet chuckle.

“I was definitely a bit nervous about the idea, still kind of am if I'm being honest.” You laugh softly, absentmindedly tracing shapes against the soft material of his sweatshirt on his chest. “But, none of you have given me any reason not to trust you, so despite being nervous I feel like this is the right choice.”

“How you feel about this is very important to me, okay? If there's ever anything I can do for you love, just let me know.” He rubs his hand soothingly up and down your back, keeping you pressed close to him almost as if he was scared if he let you go you'd disappear. The two of you stayed up talking late into the night; you learned that III is more of a cat person than a dog person, his favorite color is red, and he would willingly disappear into the woods without a trace if it meant never folding laundry again. “It's such a dumb concept, I'm going to put the damn clothes on anyways. Why do they have to be folded and put away?” You hid your face against his shoulder, trying to hide the fact you had tears forming in your eyes from laughing so hard. You look up at him with a bright smile, the tangent dying in his throat as his eyes meet yours. He slowly sits himself up on his elbows, your body responding as it gradually slid into his lap. One of his hands pressed into the small of your back, keeping you held as close to him as possible, the other moving to cup your cheek.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about kissing you since last night.” You admit in a tone barely above a whisper.

“Trust me, I wasn't doing much better.” He chuckles, his gaze briefly flashing down to your lips. “Everything about you… everything about you is just so perfect, and for the life of me I can't figure out why you give me the time of day.”

“Because you make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world.” Your voice shook as you spoke, you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears and you were nearly positive that III could hear it too.

“Because you are the only girl in the world for me.” He admits without a second thought. “I haven't been able to get last night out of my head. Of course I want to kiss you again, but this time I want to kiss you and mean it.” Trembling fingers rose to the edge of his mask, glancing up at him through your lashes asking for silent permission to raise his mask enough to kiss him. He nods, studying your nervous expression as you gently took the edge of the fabric and raised it to just below his nose. Your breath was snatched from your lungs as III crushed his lips against yours, your mind immediately swimming in the overwhelming sensation that was him. His lips subtly sweet as he eased your mouth open, his tongue carefully caressing yours, making sure to take things at a bear agonizing pace in order for you to be able to back away at any time. Your hands slid up his torso, III shivered under your delicate touch. You felt lightheaded as the kiss took over your senses; the euphoric feeling of his warm lips against yours, the deep, earthy smell of his cologne, his massive hand kneading at the softness of your hip. You both pulled away equally breathless, your hands coming up to his mask in order to readjust it into place before he had a chance to.

“I think you definitely meant it this time.” You giggle, your forehead falling to rest against his.

“There's going to be plenty more where that came from.” He winks playfully at you.

III decided to leave you for the night when you could barely keep your head up anymore. He scoops you up in his arms. You grumble in annoyance despite the fact you immediately begin to nuzzle your face against his chest. “Where are we going?” You ask through a yawn.

“I’m taking you to bed sweetheart, you need to rest.” He chuckles.

“-’m not tired.” You try to protest, your actions only make him laugh again before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Says the woman who can’t keep her eyes open.” You could hear his smile in his voice.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You admit softly.

“I know love, but you have a store to run, I’m afraid I’ve kept you up more than I already meant to.” He carefully maneuvers himself so he’s holding you in one arm, pulling back your blankets with his now free hand. He lays you gently into bed, his knuckles trailing across your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His head dips down, allowing you to share one more chaste kiss before he left you to fall into a dreamless sleep.

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satorusugurugurl · 4 months ago

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Maze of Fears

Summary: What Happens when you finally decide to get over your irrational fear of haunted houses? Your girlfriend’s drag you to one of the most notorious ones in the country! Only Scares aren’t the only thing that awaits you when you enter. A Rekindling romances as well. Good thing you’re into men wearing masks!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, role-play, chasing, mentions of machete and chainsaw (fake!) haunted house, primal play, masked men, public sex, locker sex sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 3.9K

A/N: Kinktober day six: Haunted House! Masked!Geto! God this took on a life of it’s own! I need him your honor! 🥴

“I hate you! I Hate you all. I hate you all. I hate you all!” You curse at your girlfriends, Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki, who all turned their attention to you. “I fucking hate you.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, and I know I’m not, but this is your idea. You’re the one who wanted to get over this irrational fear you have haunted houses,” Shoko interjected, stopping the seemingly ending word vomit that spilled from your lips. “We just decided to be friends and come with you.”

“I hate you.”

This wasn’t your school festival, haunted house—the ones you and your classmates would make during school festivals. The cheap ones were all handcrafted with shitty special effects makeup. If it were something similar to that, you could handle it. Unfortunately, this was in high school, and you weren’t at some shitty haunted house. You stood before Japan's scariest haunted house: The Maze of Nightmares. They are notorious for their top-notch actors, scary effects, and disorienting lights.

This specific haunt has been featured on the Travel Channel and several different YouTube accounts. It was also the haunted house that Shoko thought would be the perfect place to walk through to get over your fear of them, which, in all actuality, seemed like the worst idea ever.

“Come on, you gotta get over this fear,” Shoko commented as you inched closer to the maze.

“I suggested the lowest rating haunted house!” you snapped, glaring at the dark-haired beauty nuzzling Utahime.

Before you popped a vessel in your forehead, an arm snaked over your shoulder, pulling you into their side. “Oh, come on!” Yuki whispered, pressing her glossy lips to your cheek. “It can't be that bad.”

Cut to twenty minutes later, Yuki shoved you out of the way, abandoning you as a masked man chased her towards one of the exits. You sputtered and squealed, grabbing onto Shoko, who was jumping at every scare the slaughterhouse-themed maze had to offer you. This was the worst idea she’s ever had!

“Look, we'll be fine!” Shoko’s words did nothing for you and Utahime, who clung to you. “We’re going to be okay!”

Chainsaws reeved around you, the smell of gasoline nauseating as you struggled to see in the darkness of the room. Shoko was right—you guys were going to be fine! Everything was going to be okay. A creaking door sounded from behind you three, and slowly, you all turned, meeting two masked men. One of them was wearing a black wolf mask and wielding a prop machete. The other wore a white wolf mask, holding a chainsaw.

The three of you froze, all looking at the men before the white-masked man reached the chainsaw, heat and the smell of gas resonating from him. Your mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as you struggled to scream. But Utahime managed to scream loud enough for the three of you.

“Heh~ you cryin’?” The white wolf asked, stepping forward. The black wolf stepped closer, closing in on you.

In a snap, the two meant charged at you, the white wolf focusing on Shoko and Autahime, chasing them down the corridor as the black wolf chased you. You tripped but regained your balance, rushing forward and looking for places to hide to escape! But it was hard to think with the thundering footsteps behind you, accompanied by the whooshing of the fake but very real-looking machete aimed at you.

You rushed into a room designed to look like a morgue, slamming the door shut, only to have a booted foot stop the door. The man entered, looming over you, a smirk tugging at his lips as you backed up against a wall. Fuck this was crazy! This felt too real, even though you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

You needed to get out of this! And what was the phrase, flattery gets you everywhere in life?! It's time to put that to the test!

“Oooh, my god!” you said, trying to come off more cheery than you were feeling.“Y-You're so tall! And h-hot!” That had your stalker freezing, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “Yeah, so hot, totally my type!”

The initial shock wore off, and your wolf stepped closer and closer until he dropped the machete, slamming his hands against the wall and making you squeak in shock. The heat of his body radiated off of him, warming your skin as he leaned in close to your neck, growling, sending shivers down your spine.

And they weren’t shivers of fear or anxiety; they were the good kind of shivers as he did the same thing to the other side of your neck. This was another one of the reasons you had been so hesitant about going to a haunted house like this. You were so into masked men it wasn’t even funny. You read loads of books and fantasized about it. If you had a partner, you’d ask them to chase you around your apartment. There was just something primal about it that turned you on. You wanted to be a prey; this wolf seemed to sense that.

“S-Sooo hot!” You cooed before whimpering as he growled into your ear. “D-Do you work out?”

“Yeah.” He answered. “I get to chase pretty little sheep like you.” He pulled back, staring into your eyes. Violet iris’ glimmering in the low lighting of your room.

Being called a sheep didn’t bother you and wasn’t why you were speechless. It was the sound of his voice, once that you knew and loved, but it was mainly the eyes. Violet eyes you had fallen in love with when you were in middle school. While you had been so memorized by the familiar eyes, the wolf had a chance to look at you.

He recognized you in the lighting. You were the girl he regretted not keeping in touch with when he moved to Tokyo. Without much thinking, Suguru pulled back, staring down at you.

“Princess?” He asked hesitantly before you snapped your gaze up to him. It was the nickname Geto often called you.

“Suguru?” You asked, winning a grin as Suguru reached up, taking his mask off. Revealing the man that haunted your dreams, the one that got away: “Oh my god!” You laughed, looking him up and down. “Hi!”

Suguru chuckled, grinning as he placed his mask on a table. “Hi yourself.” He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. “God, it’s been so long!” You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him back just as hard.

“Holy shit, you look good!” He did; his hair was pulled back in a bun, he’d gotten taller, and he was even more handsome.

“I could say the same about you. He whispered, brushing some hair out of your face. “I never would have expected to see you here. I thought haunted houses weren’t your thing.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pushed yourself off the wall. “They aren’t, but I decided to get over my fear.” Suguru hummed, grinning at you, taking in the curves of your body and admiring how you had grown up. “So you’re an actor.”

“Yeah, just seasonally, I was sort of talked into it.” He eyed you up and down. “Fuck I am, so glad to see you.”

“Oh really? Do you think about me often?” You both were inseparable in middle school before he moved away. He was your first love; in a way, he always had been.

Suguru nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course I do; you’re the one that got away.” He didn’t even regret saying that because it was true. You were the girl that got away.

“Oh, r-really?” You flushed at his comment, feeling the same way. You both had dated others, but no one ever brought out the spark in you as Geto did. “I guess I feel the same.”

There was a burning desire in both of you. I need to rekindle the flames that once burned brightly for you both. Ones that you wanted to reignite. Suguru grinned, biting his bottom lip.

“Well, since you feel the same way, what are you doing after this? I get off in the next thirty minutes. Would it be okay if I took you—”

“Suguru, where are you?! We got fresh meat heading our way!” Another familiar voice roared with laughter; you could practically see the smug smile on his face.

“Fuck was the white wolf Satoru?!”

“Uhm yeah, he’s the one thag talked me into doing this gig with him.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s that pretty princess of yours was with the last group! I scared the fuck out of Shoko and Utahime! I bet you got you childhood sweetheart good too!”

Fear settled in your stomach like spoiled food, making your stomach churn at the idea of the Gojo Satoru chasing you with a fucking chainsaw. “H-He’s uh, he’s really into this, isn’t he?”

You whispered in fear as Geto shifted nervously. Due to the height difference, your head was shoved into his chest. You were hit with a musky and earthy smell—one that reminded you of warm spring days in middle school before he moved away before you lost contact. You smiled softly, not minding him pressing against you. His being this close allowed the toy to inhale deeper, taking in his scent. This was Geto Suguru's scent, and you loved it.

“Yeah, he gets a little too into it.” Geto pressed further into you close, readjusting his legs, causing you to hum happily. “Huh?” Violet eyes looked down, and Geto just noticed how close he was to you. “Oh crap.” Geto reached between your bodies, lifting your chin to look at him. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

You mindlessly stared up at him. Finding him looking back at you, swallowing hard as he clenched his jaw tight. You just smiled before nodding as he shifted again. But as he did, his elbow brushed against the curve of your breast as he attempted to find a more comfortable position for the both of you.

“Y-Yeah. Are you okay?” You finally mustered the courage to ask as he shifted again.

The veins in his neck throbbed as he cleared his throat. Fuck he was a goddamn actor! He should be able to play it cool. “Yeah, I just don’t want to suffocate you.” he whispered, a slightly seductive tone in his voice, “Are you sure you’re okay? This isn’t too weird for you, is it?”

“Mhmm, I’m perfect right now, just like this.” His body tensed as he stared into your beautiful eyes. Fuck you were so pretty, prettier than he remembered. Suguru mindlessly stared as his arms slid down the top of your shoulders, resting on your upper arm.

Both of you stayed like that, panting softly, not from the adrenaline of running through this haunted house or the prospect of being caught. It was the tension, longing, and years of lust. Geto Suguru had been your lead actor in your masturbation sessions for years, and you were the VIP member of his jerk-off material. All those nights alone, pleasing yourselves to the idea of each other finally came to a head. The desire was too hot and real to deny.

“Fuck it,” Suguru growled, losing his control as he slammed his lips against yours.

Your eyes went wide but slowly closed as you kissed back. It started slow and sweet, his lips slowly grazing against yours. Before it turned into more, his thumbs gently rubbed your bicep as your lips moved feverishly together. Suguru slowly pulled away, breathing heavily as you opened your eyes, looking up into pools of violet. He didn’t say anything, but from the look in his eyes, it was as if he was asking if kissing you was okay.

“Suguru,” you whispered, standing on your tiptoes, kissing him a second time, and giving him the okay to continue. His hands reached down farther, grabbing you by the wrists, pulling them above your head, and pinning them there with one hand. His mouth moved against yours, taking your bottom lip between his lips and nibbling it softly. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue access. His tongue slid between your lips and began exploring your mouth with it.

His jean knee-clad pushed your legs apart, resting there between your legs and hovering just below your throbbing core. You lost yourself in the temptation, slowly rocking your hips against his knee, desperate for some sort of friction. Taking the hint, Geto, his free hand, slowly trails down the sides of your body. His thumbs grazing the curve to breasts, his hands move down the curve of your body. Your fingers twitched, wanting to reach up and grab handfuls of his hair as you deepened the kiss. His free hand grabbed your hips, rocking you against his denim-covered leg, giving you the friction you desired.

The longer you kissed, the more intense things came between you. His fingers dug into your hips so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave bruises, but you didn’t give a damn. The heat was pooling between your legs, your panties wet as Geto’s clothed erection was pressing into your thigh.

“Suguru,” you panted as he finally broke the kiss. His hands moved up the curve of your body, finding the slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Weren't expecting his were you? Coming here to get scared but meeting me again after all these years?” He growled in your ear, pushing his hand further up your shirt. “Tell me, are you one of those girls that get off by masked men? Is that another reason you came?” You pulled away, giving him room to slip further up your shirt, trailing up over your stomach.

“If I said yes, what would happen? Would you think lowly of me? Or did I happen to run into just the right guy?”

“Ooh~ Princess, I’m gonna make all your fantasies come true.”

His warm hand finally reached your breasts. Making you gasp, arching into his touch as he squeezed your breast in his large hand. You tilted your head back, allowing Geto to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck. All the while, his hand kneaded at your breasts.

It was a hundred times hotter in this haunted maze that smelt like latex and gasoline mixed with fog machines. But you didn't mind, thanks to the minty musk of Suguru. His hands and mouth were on you, distracting you. Fuck you were soaking wet and desperate to feel all of him. You reached between your bodies and palmed his erection through his jeans, drawing out a growl that vibrated against your neck.

“Fuck Princess,” he whispered, lifting you by your ass, “you’re making it hard to control me.” he groaned, rocking against you softly, his erection now pressing against your clothed center.

“I-I don’t want you to control yourself, Suguru,” you gasped, unbuttoning his jeans.

Just before you could, the door to the area you were in was kicked open, and a chainsaw reeved. “I know you're hiding!” Gojo Satoru reeved the chainsaw again, making you seize up. Not wanting this to end, Sughrh hissed through his teeth. His hand gripping your wrist fell, grabbing a handle to the metal locker you were pressed against. Suguru pushed you inside, causing the two of you to stumble into a locker closet.

Once inside, Geto kicked the door shut with his booted foot before he slammed you into the back of the almost too-cramped locker. You winced slightly before pressing your lips on his, shoving your tongue in his mouth as he unbuttoned your jeans, sliding his hand inside it. A needy gasp filled his mouth as his finger began rubbing fast, hard circles around your clit. You bucked your hips into his chest as he slid his hand further down, shoving two fingers inside of you, pushing the thick fabric of your panties in as well.

It felt so good, but it left you needing even more. Sliding your hands further down his well-built chest, you returned the favor unbuttoning his jeans, sliding your hand inside, and stroking his cock. Suguru pulled away from your mouth, gasping softly, resting his forehead against yours, moaning slightly, thrusting into your hand. His dark hair fell over his shoulder as they both moaned softly against each other's mouths as you both worked on each other.

“Princess,” Geto whispered, your nickname coming out of his name, “Fuck that feels so good.”

“I need you, Geto; you have no idea how bad I need you.” You pleaded, watching as violet eyes stared at you. It looked like he was hesitating, not wanting you to feel obligated to go further. You moved quickly, placing your pointer finger over his slightly swollen lips, “If I weren’t sure about this, I wouldn’t be asking. Are you okay with this?” He nodded, placing you on the ground just long enough to rid yourself of your jeans and maroon lace panties.

Your heart pounded as you leaned against the wall, watching Geto reach into his back pocket to pull his wallet out. You swallowed hard as he took a condom out, tearing it open with his teeth. His jeans and boxers were the next to go as you pushed down slightly just below his ass. Allowing his erection to spring free.

“Princess,” he whispered, rolling on the condom before lifting you and pinning you against the cool metal of the locker. “Princess, I’ve wanted this for so long. Are you sure you want this?” He asked, his erection pressing ever so slightly against your slick opening, “If you want to take things slow, we can--” You grabbed a handful of his raven hair, tugging it and forcing him to look at you.

“Geto Suguru, shut up and fuck me.” You slammed your lips on his. He moaned into your mouth, sliding inside of you. You whimpered into his mouth as his cock filled you, stretching your pussy. God, he felt a hundred times better than you imagined.

Geto moaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he slowly began thrusting inside of you. He groaned, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin of your neck as his cock moved in and out of you. You moaned, rocking your hips slightly to meet his thrusts, trying to find the perfect rhythm. An action that had Suguru tightening his grip on your hips, holding them still.

“Princess asked me to fuck ‘you,’ remember?” He growled, nipping at your earlobe. He thrust deeper, causing you to inhale sharply in pleasure, “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Geto ensured you didn’t move; he did all the work. Spoiling you like the Princess you were to him. His thrusts were deep and fast inside of you. His cock hits your g-spot with every push. All while his lips moved against yours, swallowing every moan you offered as pleasure flooded your body. His movements and the thrill that you could be caught brought you closer and closer to your orgasm.

All that you could hear in the locker was Geto’s grunts and growls of pleasure. You managed to whisper things such as ‘right there,’ ‘faster,’ and ‘Suguru.’ You completely forgot you were in a haunted maze. More concerned with the familiar burning and tightening in your lower abdomen. You were close to your orgasm, and Geto could tell from the way you were clamping down on him.

“That’s right,” he whispered huskily in your ear, “cum for me, Princess cum for me.” You inhaled sharply as he slid one of his hands between your bodies, rubbing your clit. Each stroke of his fingers across your bundle of nerves shook you as you heard an announcement that the maze would close soon.

“S-Sugu—!”

“You can cum when I get to one, understand?” you shook violently, holding off on the pleasure before nodding. “Five,” You wrapped your legs tighter against Geto’s waist, “Four,” his thrusts picked up in speed, making you dig your nails into Geto’s back, “three,” Suguru pressed down harder your clit, rubbing faster, “two,” you threw your head back as he thrust hard right against your g-spot while rubbing your clit, “one.”

“Suguru!” You screamed as you came, not giving a fuck about who heard you. Feeling your convulsing walls left Suguru grunting as he picked up speed fucking you through your orgasm before reaching his own, growling as he came. The two of you panted, resting against the wall.

After a minute or two, Geto pulled his head back, grinning at you. He kissed your lips gently, slowly placing you on the floor and steadying you as you regained your footing. You kissed back gently, quickly gathering your clothes and sliding your jeans on, while Geto pulled the condom off, tying it up before opening the locker and tossing it in a trash can.

“Fuckin hell, that was so good” You picked your panties up as Geto pulled and buckled his pants up, “I wanted that for so long.”

“Yeah, me too.” He slipped his wolf mask back on, adjusting it. “What do you say we go out for drinks after this? Then maybe dinner on Friday?”

“Oh, that sounds great.” You were so excited, but a chill ran down your spine as he picked up his prop machete, holding it in one hand and smacking it menacingly into the palm of his other hand. “U-Ummm-what are you doing?”

He stepped closer with a dark chuckle. “Finishing my shift.” as if he wasn't stalking towards you.

“Let’s talk about this! I thought we were good! You don't have to chase me! I know it’s you!” You threw your panties at his masked face, which he caught with ease. He stared at the flimsy maroon fabric before giving it a sniff. It was a perverted action that left you eager for another round. But as he slipped them into the back pocket of his jeans. His lips pulled back, revealing his teeth. “S-Suguru!”

A combination of fear, excitement, and adrenaline rushed through every nerve in your body as he stepped towards you. You didn’t want to talk about this. You wanted him to chase you, and the man himself knew that.

“Run little sheep.”

He didn’t need to say another word. You whirled around, nearly tripping over your footing as he began stalking towards you. Maybe haunted mazes weren’t as bad as you thought. Especially seeing that this one, in particular, brought you back one guy you could never get over. Paving the road to a very long and very happy life together. Even if he was going to scare the shit out of you tonight, he was an actor. After all, this was his job.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

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annwrites · 5 months ago

Text

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part four. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you begin to get a better idea of just how deeply damaged john truly is & he stakes a claim to you. · tags: lactation kink · tw: possessiveness · word count: 2,618

You sip on your iced coffee, typing away on your laptop, near to completing your essay for one of your classes, which is due in two days.

“God, he’s so hot. I don’t get why you don’t think so,” Emma says.

You glance up to her from over your laptop screen with a raised brow, watching as she stares down at her cellphone with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“Huh?”

She looks at you, then raises her phone, showing you a recent livestream of John. No, Homelander.

No, John. You hate his moniker.

He smiles charmingly at a reporter, who speaks into her microphone with an excited look on her face. “I’m here speaking to the one and only Homelander, who just—with the aid of his fellow supe, A-Train—saved a family of three from a near-fatal car accident.”

She holds the microphone toward him. “Can you tell us what happened here, Homelander?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at the obnoxious name.

“Yeah, me and my buddy and fellow supe, A-Train,” he nods to the smiling man at his side who waves to the camera. “Were just doing some patrols of the area—just something we try to do every now and again across the state to keep our people safe,” he says with a shrug.

“When we saw the driver over there,” he continues, pointing to a man standing near a blue sedan. “Run a red light here at the intersection. Just—�� He purses his lips, shaking his head. “Carelessness.”

He sighs, continuing on. “But, thankfully, A-Train and I were able to step in and rush the injured parties: a mom, dad, and their sweet little girl, to the nearest hospital. I mean, to wait for an ambulance…there’s no telling what might’ve happened. What precious lives might’ve been lost.”

The camera pans back to the reporter. “What would we ever do without you—either of you? We are all so lucky to have heros like the two of you—like the Seven—saving and protecting America every day.”

The camera returns to John who shakes his head, waving his hand. “No, it’s the people of this great nation who are the real heros. We’re just here to do our jobs and use the gifts God gave us to protect and save our fellow man.”

“And save them you did,” the reporter replies, continuing on before Emma locks her phone, looking at you, resting her chin atop both her fists.

“I want him so bad,” she mumbles with a smile.

You grin, shaking your head—sweating nervously.

She’s loved the man for as long as you can remember. Used to have a poster of him—ok, multiple posters—stuck to her bedrooms walls growing up. And she’s seen all of his movies probably an unhealthy amount of times.

If she had any idea that he’d had his head shoved between your thighs just a few nights ago—that you know his real name, his childhood story—the real one—that you’ve had him in your bed, crying in your arms, sitting at your dining table as the two of you eat together…that he’s called himself ‘your man’ more than once now… You’re pretty sure she’d pop a blood vessel, grill you relentlessly on everything, and then never forgive you.

You tell her everything, but this…you can’t.

Honestly, you wonder if she’d even believe you if you tried, anyway.

“What do you think he’s like in bed?”

Your head shoots up. “What?”

She grins. “Not like you want to know how many times I’ve thought about it, but…he’s like the American Dream, right? I mean, he’s definitely my American wet dream.”

You snort.

She continues. “So do you think he’s vanilla, then? Only missionary? Or…oh, I bet he loves creampies. He seems like he could be the type to have a breeding kink. Nuclear family and all.”

You lay your head down. “I don’t want to know.”

You know he’s incredibly good at oral, if nothing else. And he’s a boob man. He’d spent the entire night with his face resting between both of yours.

And he really loves to cuddle. He’d held you like a human-sized teddy bear all night. But, you suppose it makes sense: being desperate for affection. Every time you’d thought today about what he’d told you last night, your heart had broken all over again. You’d actually had to hide yourself away in a restroom today between classes just to cry.

Maybe your period is going to start soon…

God, who would’ve thought in a million years that you would feel sorry for Homelander? But you don’t see him as that now. Not when you’re alone together. Now he’s just…John.

Honestly, in a million years you would’ve never imagined letting him into your bed. Holding him. Calling him baby. Or sweetheart…

“Just guess,” she insists.

You groan in irritation, raising your head. “Maybe he’s a boob man.”

She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling, thinking for a moment before looking back to you while nodding. “Yeah, I can see that.”

You shake your head while smiling. “I have to get this paper done.”

You don’t bother keeping your balcony doors closed this evening. Not while you’re up and idly watching TV, at least.

Watch, you think, the one night you leave them open—as a reluctant invitation—will be the night he finally decides he’s grown bored of coming here and he never returns.

You’re entirely okay with that possibility.

You’d do anything to pass him off onto Emma. Then again…no, you wouldn’t. You most certainly don’t like the idea of him doing to her what he did just a couple nights ago to you on your kitchen counter.

But, she also wouldn’t have even thought about fighting back like you had. She would’ve been completely willing.

You wonder if that would’ve made him all the more angry. Maybe that’s the part that turns him on the most—resistance; a fight.

You jolt when you hear a soft thump to your left. You, begrudgingly, turn your head in that direction, met with the sight of the one and only Captain Asshole.

You feel guilty after thinking that, though. Especially after last night.

He’s just…emotionally stunted. And you’re not even sure at what specific age. Maybe there isn’t a particular one, because for his entire adolescent life…he’d been locked in that room with no one and nothing to interact with.

Tears sting your eyes.

He steps over the threshold, and you merely gaze up at him.

You’re not offering to willingly make him dinner like some trained pet. Not that you feel like it to begin with. You’ve already eaten. He can fly down to the local McDonald’s and pick up a Big Mac if he’s hungry.

Fly down.

He can fly.

What an insane thing to be able to do.

But also fantastical and amazing.

You wish you could do that.

He slips off his boots, setting them beside the door, before padding over, seating himself heavily beside you.

You flip the channel to some trivia game-show then.

“You ever seen any of my movies?” He asks.

You roll your head to the side, staring at him. “What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, looking at the TV. “So, you’ve never had a favorite supe?”

You face forward again as well. “Not really, no.”

“Never had so much as a poster of me?”

You shake your head.

He smirks. “Maybe I should gift you a Homelander pack of panties.”

You look at him with a raised brow.

“Of course they sell those,” you say with a shake of your head.

He leans over you, sliding a hand up your thigh. “I could be with you all day long that way. Right between your legs.”

You shake your head yet again, but in disapproval. Even if your lip twitches in mild amusement.

He leans back again. “I’d like a glass of milk.”

You huff quietly—the playful moment clearly over—and stand.

Once you’ve given him his requested drink, he takes a brief sip, then speaks before you seat yourself once again.

“Well, you’ve gotten to see me undressed. I think we should make things even.”

You still—the hairs raising on the back of your neck—while you simply stand and stare at him.

“C’mon,” he says, motioning with his hand, taking another drink. “Strip.”

“You’ve already seen me without…bottoms—”

“So now I get to see the other half.”

The part of you he’s most interested in, he thinks.

You cross your arms, frowning, heartrate slowly beginning to climb.

His eyes go red and you jump slightly, arms falling to your sides in surprise.

Shades of blue return to you then, and he smiles sweetly, which serves only to make your stomach turn.

“I’m waiting.”

With trembling hands and stinging eyes, you grip the hem of your shirt, slowly tugging it up and over your head. You bunch it up, then hold it shyly against your middle.

“All of it,” he states, taking a long drink, licking his lips as he looks you over.

Your chin wobbles. “I don’t want—”

He sighs, leaning forward. “It’s just us. So slip it off, then climb into my lap.”

You waver.

“I’m not going to rape you. If I wanted you on your back with your legs spread, you would be.”

Not that it’s an unappealing idea to him.

You reach behind you, undoing your bra one clasp at a time. You slip it from your shoulders, tossing it onto the coffee table, then clasp your hands over your naked breasts.

He makes a beckoning motion with his index finger, so you step forward. Hesitantly.

“Straddle my lap.”

You swallow thickly, then do so, settling bent legs on either side of him, resting back on your calves.

He glances to your hands, then into your eyes with a raised brow.

You’d been right in what you’d told Emma that morning—your assumption about him having an appreciation for breasts—apparently.

You lower your arms, resting your hands in your lap, and he abruptly wraps his own around you, leaning forward, taking a nipple into his mouth.

Your eyes widen in shock, your body growing warm all over as he begins to gently suck, his eyes fluttering closed while he moans quietly in the back of his throat.

You, meanwhile, remain still and silent, unsure what the hell to do with yourself.

He releases your breast for a moment, taking a drink of milk, then immediately dives back in.

The TV plays softly in the background, so you choose to instead focus on mentally participating in answering trivial questions instead of…this.

Until he leans back, sliding a hand up your back, gripping your neck.

Your eyes meet his.

“Touch my head.”

You slide trembling hands atop his shoulders, lacing your fingers into his blond strands, and he returns his attentions to your chest.

You gently rub your fingertips against his scalp and he hums in contentment, taking another sip of milk, then sucking on your other breast.

It’s then that the metaphorical wheels begin to turn.

Constantly switching between taking drinks of milk and sucking on your breasts… Oh good lord, he has a breast-feeding kink, doesn’t he?

He just grows more and more interesting the more time you spend with him.

And then your heart breaks all over again.

What if it’s not, entirely, a kink? You know it’s at least half one with the feeling of his erection pressing against your shorts.

He never had a mother. Never had any form of maternal comfort growing up.

Showing up and asking—rather, demanding—dinner, your attention and approval, nearly threatening you last night after a moment of extreme vulnerability… He’d held you to his chest the entire night. Like a child does with a toy for comfort when attempting to sleep.

And now…he’s pretending to breast-feed.

You decide on another small experiment—he liked it the other night when you gave him affectionate touches—and begin to quietly hum a nursery rhyme.

This feels like some fucked-up psychological experiment: you trying to read him and gauge his reactions to this and that to get an exaction on his true nature. But, in reality, he doesn’t seem terribly hard to get at.

He goes to switch breasts again and you grow silent. Until he looks up at you, and tells you, “Keep singing.”

The two of you are lying in bed again with John’s head resting between your breasts as he takes even, steady breaths.

You run your fingers slowly through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

You’re nearly on the edge of it yourself when he stirs before leaning over you, slowly sliding his hand up your chest, then along your neck until his large, heavy palm comes to rest atop the soft, delicate skin.

He stares down at you, and you cup his cheek, brushing your thumb along it.

He smiles gently, tightening his hold, and you swallow nervously, your brows furrowing.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You belong to me now. Do you understand?”

Your eyes flit between his and your heart begins to hammer in fear.

“You understand me,” he continues. “Like no one else has ever bothered to. We’re together now. Got it?”

He can’t really mean it. Someone like him…he must be expected to carry on with who Vought and the press choose for him.

“We…we’ve known each other for four days, John. That’s not enough time to—to know how you feel—”

“It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t asking. You’re mine.”

He presses his lips to yours and a tear slips from the corner of your eye.

He lies back down then, snuggling close to you for comfort. “If I find out you’re seeing anyone else, you won’t like what happens to him. So, I suggest staying loyal. Not that anyone else could ever compare to me, anyway. I mean, you should be happy about this—that you’re the young woman I’ve chosen for myself. It makes you special. Being mine, that is. A rich superhero. The supe.”

He closes his eyes, softly smiling. “The greatest man in all of America—the world—and I’m all yours.”

He tightens his hold around you.

“Doesn’t that make you happy?” He asks with a flat, slightly-threatening tone.

Your fingers tremble against his scalp. “What about Maeve?”

He snorts. “She might be my equal—for the most part—but you have your own appeal. There’s nothing I can give her that she can’t already get on her own. Whereas you should be grateful I’ve spared you a second glance or thought. That I’ve let you get this close to me. I’m a gift, really. Come to add interest to your ordinary life.”

A narcissist is what you are, you think.

Does he think, by stressing how special and one-of-a-kind he is, that you’ll…what? Agree? See how blind you’ve been all these years to have shirked the prospect of idolizing him, and finally fall on your knees, beginning for his attention?

You already have it.

The roles are reversed here, in truth. He’s the one desperate to have yours.

You know you shouldn’t speak further, but you want to hear his response to you laying the truth plainly before him. “If I’m so ordinary and you’re so…extraordinary, why bother with me? What is my ‘appeal’, as you put it?”

He grows quiet, listening to your heart pounding in your chest.

Finally, he curls his fingertips inward against your back. “Go to sleep.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, terrified of him. Of what’s happening to you.

Dear God, why couldn’t you have skipped just one day of class? Or come halfway through the day instead?

Now… Now you would be paying for it until he chooses to call this sick game quits.

#fic: the boys (homelander x reader)#homelander x y/n #homelander x you #homelander x oc #homelander x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n

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vivalas-vega · 8 months ago

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unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

howdy y'all - we've got another rooster fic. i feel i've neglected this man too much on my blog and wanna start writing for him more so here we are with a fleet week fic inspired by my own journey onto a navy ship yesterday!!! (the similarities between my fic and the real deal start and end with waiting in line. my guide was cute but let's just say he was no bradley bradshaw). it was very cool and educational and if your city does fleet week i highly recommend checking it out! this fic will have maybe three parts total. anyways hope you enjoy :)

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

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word count: 3.2k

warnings: slight language, naval inaccuracies!! (even tho I just did my own fleet week tour I still don't know shit, I'm just a girl)

The ocean breeze filtered through your hair as you stood off to the side, eyes fixated on the impressive carriers in front of you. The sun felt hot on your skin and excitement was buzzing through your veins as you listened to your best friend in your ear… well, half-listened.

“We’re brunching! Come on, meet us at Malibu Farm,” Maggie said and you sighed.

“I told you it’s Fleet Week, I’m already down here,” you replied and you could feel her eyes roll on the other side of the phone.

“I would be supportive if you were trying to bag one of those Navy hotties but come on… bottomless mimosas and all the dirt on Stephanie’s breakup are better than some boats,” she said.

“I will see you for drinks tonight,” was all you replied before hanging up. You’d tried (very unsuccessfully) to convince some of your friends to come with you, telling them about how cool these carriers were and how you only got the chance to see them up close and personal once a year but they had zero interest… you were the only one in your circle who found this sort of thing interesting, and you would have been bummed except for the fact that you were more than okay doing things by yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to a concert or a museum solo, you actually enjoyed it… you loved hanging out with your friends but it was nice to not be tied to what the majority of the group wanted to do (or didn’t want to do), and as you waited in line you were actually a little glad none of them had taken you up on your offer. If Maggie were here she’d be ogling the cute officer who appeared to be getting ready to take your group on board, and she’d spend the whole tour trying to flirt with him instead of listening to what he had to say.

You were content to wait in line as long as it took, taking in the beautiful ships to your left before switching to people watching, you knew this week drew all kinds of visitors and you found it entertaining to see such an eclectic mix of people all in one space… there were the obvious ex-Navy types, returning to their roots and reliving the glory days, there were couples who looked a little out of their element but excited for something new to do as a date, and families with kids… you even spotted an entire elementary class on a field trip. Spare your friend group, most people were more than interested in the opportunity to spend a day aboard multi-million dollar vessels and you were one of them.

Across the way Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw was chatting with his teammates about how much they wanted today to be over… it wasn’t that he hated Fleet Week, because he did enjoy it for about the first hour, but after that it became tiresome to give the same spiel over and over and over. They’d all tried to get out of it, Natasha had even gone so far as trying to manifest a deployment, but according to the higher ups there was no excuse for the Navy’s best and brightest to not make an appearance at an event happening so close to their home base.

But then he saw you and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you seem so enamored by everything around you… you didn’t hold an ounce of annoyance over the fact you’d been standing in that same spot going on half an hour now, something he’d seen from other visitors a dozen times already, and when a gust of wind kicked up your hair and sent it fluttering around your face you gave a half hearted attempt to tame it, but really you were just enjoying the breeze and the sun on your skin and he knew he had to know your name. He watched Jake getting ready to take your group aboard and he had to know if you’d abandon the formal tour in favor of letting him take you up instead.

You were eavesdropping on a conversation between a sailor and a kid just ahead of you, a soft smile on your lips as you listened to just how excited both parties were to be talking about the ship in front of you and you were so focused on them that you didn’t notice a person approaching you, not until his shadow cast across your face and when you turned you saw a man who nearly knocked the wind out of you… he was tall and solid, arms straining against the short sleeves of his khaki uniform and you thought that no one should look good in that color yet here he was proving you wrong. His golden brown waves glistened in the direct sunlight and he had a slight smirk beneath a mustache that you really wanted to hate, but you really didn’t… he was handsome, potentially one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen, and here he was standing directly in front of you and you looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am,” he introduced, extending his hand for you to shake which you did as you gave him your name and a smile. “What brings you out today?”

“A bizarre fascination with ships the size of planets,” you replied and he laughed. It was warm and a little rough around the edges, much like you’d appraised him to be in your short interaction, and you wanted to hear it again.

“Well, my day wrapped up not too long ago and I couldn’t help but notice you waiting for a tour…” he started, leaning in slightly with a mischievous look on his face as if he was about to tell you a secret, “and between you and me, your tour guide is a dud.” he finished and you looked towards the man, tall, blonde and oozing charisma and you had a feeling Bradley was lying to you as you watched him charm the entirety of your group with one sentence… but you weren’t feeling too keen on calling him out on his fib.

“Oh no, is that so?” you replied, disappointment lacing your tone.

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I think you oughta let me take you up, make sure you get the tour you deserve,” he propositioned and you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I think that might be for the best… for the sake of a thorough Navy education and all,” you said and he nodded, gesturing towards the ramp and he held out his hand for you to take as you pulled yourself onto the steep landing. His hand was warm in yours and all-encompassing as he held it and made sure you made it safely before letting it fall back to your side and you were almost a little disappointed when he did.

He led you into the cargo hold, a massive room filled with so many things your eyes had a hard time adjusting at first. You trailed alongside him as he explained everything to you, sparing no detail as he went and you were particularly fascinated by the boat that was rigged to be deployed at a moments notice, positioned right in front of a hatch door, and he told you it was primarily there for search and rescue missions as he rattled off information about how long it takes to get it down into the water and pointed out the crane used to move it around as needed.

You listened with rapt attention as you continued through, you added a quip or a question here and there but mostly you were hanging onto his every word as he pointed out things like their freezer and the gym, and you realized you might have been content to listen to this man read you his grocery list and you had to make a conscious effort to focus on the words themselves and not just the voice that was speaking them. As you made your way up a steep and narrow stairwell, so much so you might have described it closer to a ladder than stairs, he stayed right behind you where he could catch you if you fell and you tried to ignore the fact that his diligence almost made you want to fall.

“There’s a lot up here,” he said as he led you down a hallway lined with doors, “but it’s mostly just bunks and offices. We’re not technically supposed to show you this, but… I won’t tell if you won’t,” he added as he pushed one of the doors open and you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key as you peeked inside, taking in the modest living quarters with multiple twin beds.

“So, this is where you sleep when you’re deployed?” you asked and he nodded, brow furrowing when you looked at him, clearly skeptical about something as your eyes trailed him top to bottom before returning to the beds in front of you, “how do you even fit?” you followed up and immediately you flushed, not meaning to ask that at all but it was the first thing that popped into your head and it flew out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Not comfortably, sweetheart,” he replied with a laugh and you smiled softly at the term of endearment as he shut the door and nodded for you to follow. He talked about the photos lining the walls, telling you who was who or what was what in the ones he recognized before you went up another stairwell and before you could walk through the door frame in front of you he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned your head to look at him, an unasked question on your face, and he gave you that addictive smirk of his, “now this is the really fun part that very few people get to see,” he prefaced and you felt anticipation brimming as he kept his hands on you and guided you forward.

“Just breaking all the rules today aren’t you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you replied and he wanted to tell you that you could just call him Bradley but one look at the mischief in your eyes told him you knew that… you just liked calling him Lieutenant and he liked hearing it too much to stop you. When you turned your attention forward you were faced with two beautiful jets right in front of you and you faltered for a moment, stunned by the sheer impressiveness of the aircrafts.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, careful of your step as you approached one of them and Bradley tried to commit that look of awe on your features to memory, his heart stuttering at the sight. You instinctively reached a hand out before snapping it back, realizing you probably shouldn’t be touching things with price tags you couldn’t comprehend.

He chuckled, “go ahead, it’s mine so do your worst.”

He thought you might get whiplash with how quickly you turned to face him, “yours? How have we made it through this whole tour without you mentioning you’re a pilot?”

“Thought I’d keep you on your toes,” he replied as you returned your focus to his jet, hand trailing along the smooth metal as you walked around it.

“I never thought I’d get to see an F/A-18 in person… at least not one that’s active,” you sighed, and now he was certain his heart had stopped in his chest. “Tops out at what, twelve hundred?” you asked and he blinked in surprise, only able to nod in response because he didn’t quite trust his words right now. He knew he liked you as soon as he saw you, so much so he was taking you on his tenth tour of the day when all he’d wanted to do previously was go to the bar, but now he was worried he was in a little over his head as you appreciated his jet, having identified it immediately without any help from him. “God, this is incredible, Bradley,” you said, maybe a little breathless from how excited you were and before you knew it he was disappearing, leaving you standing at the nose with a confused expression.

You laughed when he returned, rolling a ladder to the side of his jet and beckoning you over. He hadn’t anticipated you to know anything about planes, or really have any interest beyond the first minute of being in front of it, but now that he knew otherwise he wanted to show you everything. He held onto your hand as you took each step, trailing right behind you just as he had in the stairwells and when you got to the landing he started pulling the canopy back and you let out another soft gasp.

“Can you get in trouble for this?” you asked, turning to look at him. You knew private tours with high ranking pilots were not standard for Fleet Week, and you also knew this wasn’t an area most people would be allowed in, and you worried for a brief moment what would happen to him if anyone caught you.

He shook his head, “you’re accompanied by a Lieutenant, we’re fine,” he answered, smiling as you leaned over slightly to look inside his cockpit and his heart was thudding in his chest at the sheer wonder in your eyes. He started pointing out all of the controls, telling you what they did and why, and he answered your every question just as he had with the rest of the ship. “Sweetheart, I’ve gotta be honest… I’ve never met anyone who gave a damn about these jets that didn't work in or around them already.”

You pulled your attention back to him with an incredulous look, “how could they not?” you asked, and you wanted to keep your gaze on those pretty brown eyes that were locked on you, but the novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet and you looked back inside the jet. “I mean… this is next level engineering wrapped up in a pretty package, what’s better than that?” He thought you were beautiful when he saw you standing on your own with your hair blowing in the breeze and the sun kissing your skin, he thought you were beautiful when you laughed at his dumb jokes in the cargo hold, but right now he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you slightly bent over and leaning into his cockpit as you truly appreciated the one thing he loved most in this world.

“Please let me take you on a date,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself and you looked at him a little surprised. You’d been hoping since he approached you that he’d ask, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the unexpected timing.

“Ask me again after the tour,” you replied with a smirk and though it vaguely sounded like rejection he couldn’t help but smile. If you wanted to make him work for it then he absolutely would. You asked him a question about the gauges and he told you exactly what they measured, and when you finally made your way back down the ladder he even let you sit on the second to last step as he wheeled it back to its place.

“Bradley!” you squealed when he whipped it around, hands bracing on the poles on either side of you and you were a little breathless when you were suddenly facing him, looking up at him as his strong hands gripped just above your head as he continued pushing you through the open area.

“Just wanted a better view,” he replied and you flushed at the compliment. Even though it was only two steps he still offered you his hand as you got off and of course you still accepted it, lingering for a moment before dropping it. He took you back through the carrier a different way than you’d came so he could show you absolutely everything, still narrating as he went. Truthfully, there wasn’t much difference on this route than the other but it was longer and he wanted to drag this out. He knew as soon as you stepped off the ship he wouldn’t have any reason to keep you longer than he already had, and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as he could.

When you entered the now familiar cargo hold you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, you didn’t want your time with Bradley to come to an end but it seemed it was inevitable as he led you down the ramp and back onto solid ground. Your eyes were bright when you turned to face him and you still had that smile on that hadn’t seemed to leave your face all day and it was another sight he wanted to commit to memory. You had surprised the hell out of him, turned his boring day around the second he saw you and he knew with certainty he couldn’t get enough of you… and you were in the exact same boat. You knew when you got here today you’d have a good time, that the other man Bradley insisted was a dud still would have given a good tour and you’d have gotten exactly what you came for but the man in front of you exceeded every one of your expectations and then some, and you weren’t looking forward to the moment you had to go back to your car and not have his eyes on you anymore.

“Bradley, that was…” you sighed, “that was incredible, I don’t really know how to thank you for that.”

“Let me take you out,” he replied easily and you flushed, the tour was over and he was wasting no time in asking you out again, and this time you let him.

You nodded, “I’m free tonight.” His grin was wide as he fished his phone out of his pocket for you to input your number, and you couldn’t help but mirror him when he told you to put your address as well so he could pick you up… if this was anyone else, if you hadn’t just spent the afternoon with him catering to your every query and whim, you would have told him no. You would have said you could meet him somewhere, but you trusted him. The few hours spent together showed you that you could, and that wasn’t lost on Bradley. If you’d said no he wouldn’t have even blinked, he would have suggested something else that made you more comfortable, but you didn’t say no… and that caused his chest to tighten as he looked down at your beautiful smile.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and you felt your skin tingling as he pulled away. “Wear something comfortable.”

You nodded, a little curious as to what he could have planned but you could just tell if you asked he wouldn’t say, and you were more than happy to let this man surprise you. “I’ll see you tonight, Bradley.”

“And I’ll be counting down every second.”

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maddie-grove · 9 months ago

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I have a popular post about how I don’t enjoy it when love stories act like it would undermine the central romance if one or both of the protagonists had a positive experience with an ex or former sexual partner, and I just want to say: it’s really all about the framing.

It’s totally chill if a protagonist has never been in love before, for whatever reason. Maybe they have intimacy issues, or they were literally raised by wolves in the Canadian wilderness, or they’re too busy, or they were a child oblate, or they just never clicked with anyone that way, or they were married to a grotesquely evil Renaissance nobleman. If we’re supposed to be like “awww that’s nice, they are experiencing romantic love for the first time” or “I am so happy that something nice is happening to this girl after her experiences with the horrible duke,” that’s cool.

It’s also fine, in my book, if a protagonist has never had really good sex before. Not everyone has an easy time getting into it and, to be frank, not everyone has the good luck to encounter a considerate or generous lover immediately after becoming sexually active.

Here are some examples where I do think there are problems:

The historical romance author wants to establish that the hero is not a virgin, but she doesn’t want to make him a player and she doesn’t want to give him a bad ex as a source of angst and she doesn’t want him to have been in love before. So she gives him a long-term paid mistress. But, instead of going with “Adrian enjoyed Lily’s company and thought she was pretty/clever/pleasant, but obviously it was a business relationship on both sides,” you get something like “Adrian had never felt anything for Lily. She was merely a vessel for his manly needs.” And it’s like you knew this woman for years! Yet I have warmer feelings towards the friendly lady who works at the pharmacy! What’s wrong with you?

The Regency heroine was happily married to one dude, who died tragically young. She falls in love with her late husband’s best friend, also her friend, who has been in love with her since before the husband died but he never acted on it because it would have been wrong and hurtful to his friend. They both feel a little weird/guilty about getting together, but it’s clear that they aren’t actually disrespecting the late husband’s memory and he’d probably be happy for them if he knew. This is all good and fine, until the hero and heroine are making love and the heroine muses to herself that the hero is better in bed than her late husband. This honestly wouldn’t feel so sour if it had been established at the beginning that they never clicked sexually despite loving each other, but in that moment it feels like a cheap shot at a nice dead guy. And for what? So the audience has no doubt that the hero is the best sex man in the world?

Someone writes a fanfic where Character A has a non-endgame romance with Character C, when eventually Character A will end up with Character B. The A/C romance is obviously not going to last for well-established reasons, but it’s sweet and C is presented sympathetically. Until the author abruptly makes C a bitch in a non-canonical way when it’s time for them to break up, even though that’s far from the most natural way for the breakup to happen.

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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 1 year ago

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“no purity”

❤︎ synopsis — he’s such a tease… always egging you on and irritating you. so now, he’ll just prove his point to you over and over again

pairing: vessel x afab!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: first sleep token fic! this was done per the request of my lovely friend @dead-end-fanfiction , the ask will be linked here. enjoy~

cw: nsfw content. gender neutral pronouns for the reader. thigh riding. lots of teasing from vessel. slight dirty talk. degradation.

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“you’re tense, darling,”

“shut up, i know i am,”

how did they find themself in this situation again?

y/n was currently perched up on vessel’s thigh, staring down at him with a mixture of both irritation and anticipation. their breath was haste, dripping with an unknown sense of desire as they stared down the dark, mysterious man, who only wore a pearly white grin underneath his mask.

they were both in vessel’s office. he was leaned back against his red, velvety chair, the fabric brushing against vessel’s bare thighs. he looked cozy, despite the rather sexual situation he was in with the person who’s thighs were straddling his leg.

vessel just let out a chuckle, amused by the predicament they both found themselves in.

“well?” he started out, his voice feigning innocence underneath his knowing smirk. “you gonna start moving or what?”

they could only scowl at the masked man, not appreciating how smug he was being. “with that attitude, i won’t be moving at all.” y/n hissed out with narrow eyes, but that only seemed to amuse this eccentric deity.

“oh, honey… you’re the one that started this, remember?” vessel reminded, his tone velvety smooth with cockiness laced into his mannerisms. “i can sit here all day, and not do a single thing… just watching you drip your wetness all over my thigh,”

y/n was about to retort back, but they bit their tongue. as much as they wanted deny it, vessel was right; they did start this. but it wasn’t even intentional!

they just wanted to ask vessel a question. one. simple. question. but of course, the dark figure had to pull one of his wild cards, irritating y/n and prompting them to challenge vessel.

and that challenge? well, it was a battle of self control.

stripped completely of their pants, with nothing but their shirt on, vessel followed suit, and the two of them were just staring at each other, lust clearly clouding their eyes. sheet music was scattered all over the floor because of how haste vessel had gotten with putting y/n in this position, but he didn’t care.

especially when he got to tease them like this.

“look at you… so turned on just from sitting on my thigh,” the entity mocked with a provocative tease.

vessel’s voice was slickly sweet, a hint of mischief was in his tone. he was amused; amused at how easy it was to get y/n going. they were soaking wet all over his thigh, so much so that it was shimmering in the dimly lit room.

y/n could only roll their eyes at vessel’s words, their nails digging into his shoulders a little more. “you’re one to talk about being turned on, especially when your little friend over there seems to be having a bit of a problem.”

they nudged their knee in between vessel’s legs, brushing it against his clothed, hardened erection. he let out a rather loud groan from the contact, and vessel just chuckled lustfully.

“little? you wound me, dearie. it’s not little at all.” vessel spoke with a smug tone, a smirk evident on his face. “quite the opposite, actually.”

“shut up. we’re not gonna start talking about your dick.” y/n quickly shot down, blushing when they realized what vessel’s words entailed.

“awh look at that! you’re already blushing at the thought of me being too big and thick for you to handle.” he practically cackled out, relishing in the embarrassed emotions y/n was feeling.

they could only scoff and whip their head to look away from vessel. y/n didn’t have any sort of witty comment to get back at vessel.

they hated that he was so right too.

“now then… how about we get on track again, eh?” he spoke so smoothly, but his voice had so much arrogance to it. y/n gritted their teeth upon hearing this, but they just couldn’t be mad at him, not when they were being so intimate like this.

“you’re so goddamn annoying.”

“sure i am, but you love it. that’s why you’re so goddamn wet all over me.”

y/n really wanted to wipe that smirk off of vessel’s face, but they couldn’t bring themselves to. going back and forth with vessel has only gotten them more worked up, and they haven’t even done anything to relieve themself of this aching sensation that pooled in their stomach.

and vessel definitely took notice of this.

gripping their hips more tightly, vessel’s brazen and calloused fingers dug into the sides of y/n’s hips. he bounced his knee upwards teasingly to send jolts of pleasure up y/n’s body, making them whine out loud.

“fuck!” they moaned loudly, digging their nails into vessel’s shoulders.

“ahh… there we are, there’s the little slut talking.” he chided with a smirk, knowing the power he has over y/n.

it didn’t help that the friction only caused y/n to become even more wet. they could feel their leaking juices trickle down their inner thigh and onto vessel’s skin. and through it all, vessel still just emitted a cocky and sexy aura that made y/n just want to ruin their cunt all over his thigh.

it was so humiliating, but it turned them on so fucking much.

“i won’t repeat myself, darling.” vessel spoke with a taunting, almost threatening tone that was shrouded in promiscuous desire. “start grinding that pretty pussy on me, or i’ll make you move myself.”

his words were vulgar, but his words and the way he delivered them had so much power to them it drive y/n crazy.

y/n didn’t even think twice before they slowly started moving their hips in an up and down rhythm, keeping their pace slow. it felt like time had stopped for them specifically, just a little world where vessel and y/n could let their desires spill.

y/n rutted their puffy cunt all over vessel’s thigh, smearing his ashy skin with their juices. that feeling of doing all the work to get themselves off while vessel just sat there watching, it was enough to make y/n whimper from both frustration and arousal.

“g-god fucking dammit … mmmmh…” they managed to rasp out, and vessel groaned in response.

“that’s it… move your hips just like that..” vessel growled out, his nails digging crescent-shaped marks into y/n’s hips.

he guided their hips along his bare thigh, keeping his hands tight on y/n’s body as they were grinding up and down on his leg. the way they were moving just turned vessel on even more, the sight was so hot.

“ahh.. would ya look at that? you’re moving like a fucking pornstar.” vessel spat out, his voice still holding that lustrous tone that kept y/n whining and grinding on his leg.

“where’d you learn to do that, eh? you sleepin’ around with the other band members or what?” his voice was sharp, and a bit cruel. he just kept on speaking. “going around like the bitch in heat you are, getting other mens’ dicks wet for your dripping wet cunt? such a fucking slut… you’d do anything to get yourself off, won’t you?”

but those words just encouraged y/n to keep riding vessel’s thigh like no tomorrow, their movements speeding up slightly. they didn’t even bother to respond to vessel’s humiliating words.

vessel took notice of this immediately, and let out a lustful scoff, bouncing his leg up again to make y/n moan loudly. “mmmh.. not talking now, huh? that’s fine…”

he lifted them up slightly, and changed the angle to which y/n was riding his thigh, making it more pleasurable for their nether regions.

“just keep riding my thigh and prove to me what a little slut you are.”

and ride they did. y/n was moving their hips in such an erotic and frantic rhythm, it caused both parties to moan and groan from the feeling. that’s all they could think of; up, down. up down.

y/n hated how easily vessel got to them, how his words could turn them from a prissy, almost bratty little spitfire, to a mess of nothing but lust, desire and frustration.

but it always had them yearning for more. and damn did they love it.

as they continued to spread their juices all over vessel, their frantic movements were slowly pushing them closer to orgasm, that blissful climax they’ve been craving all this time.

“v-vessel… i’m so close..” y/n mewled out, and vessel was savoring that sound and feeling.

“oh.. you want to cum? does this whore want to cum all over me?” vessel questioned with that cruel, teasing voice.

he gripped their hips tightly and forced them down on his leg more, causing them to cry out in pleasure. “say it. say that you want it,”

“i-i want to cum! i want to cum all over your thigh! all over myself like the whore i am!” y/n practically screamed, getting desperate for a release.

vessel was satisfied to hear that; and so he guided their hips more across his leg to aid them to a climax. “that’s it… that’s the slut i love so much… now cum. cum all over the place.”

it seemed that his words were on command, because y/n’s hips spasmed wildly and their threw their head over vessel’s shoulder, crying out loudly in pleasure as they came all over his leg.

warm liquid trickled down their inner thighs and all over vessel’s leg, their essence coating his leg white. y/n breathed heavily to catch their breath, and vessel just chuckled and patted their head reassuringly.

“good little pet.” is all he said, a smile can be heard from his tone of voice.

after a bit of time of calming down, y/n caught their breath and attempted to get up from vessel’s leg, but his strong hands forced them to straddle his leg again, making them whine.

“vessel…?” y/n questioned with a slightly dazed tone, but the dark entity just chuckled.

“oh no… i’m not done with you yet, sweetie.” vessel whispered. he moved his hands to unbuckle the belt on the loops of his pants, sagging the clothing down. y/n looked down with wide eyes, watching vessel’s hardened cock spring free.

but he only chuckled knowingly. this was going to be a long night.

“i hope you’re ready for round two, baby, because it’s going to just get better from here.”

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#sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #vessel x reader #vessel smut #sleep token smut #smut fanfiction #sleep token vessel #vessel #st vessel #sleep token fic #vessel fanfic #smutty fanfiction #smutty drabble #sleep token x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Congratulations on hitting over 5k followers, you deserve them all and so much more! I got so excited when I realised you're taking requests for short drabbles so I was thinking along the lines of a meet the parents sort of situation with Captain MacTavish. Maybe they're both on the same team or whatever and are now engaged but Soap still hasn't had the time to officially introduce her to the family so he does so when they're both on leave and she's just the complete opposite to him but they just fit (like a puzzle piece) and the family notices and absolutely adores it. Bonus Points if Soap is just completely whipped (cause he totally would be)

—I Can See It In Your Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

Blue eyes watch silently as you speak to his father, an easy and honest smile on your lips. John blinks at the ring on your finger as you move your hand in a display of the story you were telling—the OP in Brazil, John thinks he overheard minutes earlier—a matching band to his that had been there only a single month now. You both only ever wore them on leave, otherwise, they were stuck to the chain of your dog tags; hidden away until they could be brought back to life once more.

Truthfully, this had been a long time coming.

“She’s lively,” his mother comments, and John hums, bringing the beer in his hand up to his lips for a tiny sip from where he rests against the far wall. “Your father likes her, no doubt. Never seen him smile that much at any of the ones from the younger years.”

“Those weren’t serious,” John scoffs, scar over his eye pulling as he spares his Mum a glance through a smirk. “If they were, it’d be different, eh?”

“No,” the woman grabs at his ear, pulling it as he flinches and hides a snap of his teeth at her. “A mother can tell. They weren’t good for you—didn’t make you watch ‘em like that, least.”

A reddish sheen comes to the Scot’s cheeks, avoiding the digging smugness of his matriarch as he shifts his legs.

“Stop doin’ that, Woman,” John grumbles.

“You’re doin’ it to yourself, ya little devil.” Growling, the mighty Captain out in the field is brought low easily by his mum’s own intelligence—but it wasn’t a secret. Everyone in the family could see how he looked at you, how when you spoke, his head snapped over to hear the sound of your voice like it was a call from sea and he a vessel lost to the curtain of mist.

Even now, amid a conversation, those blue eyes couldn’t help but move back as you and his aging father bent over in laughter—a small flicker on John’s lips that usually held a cold smirk or nothing at all.

His mum hums to him, watching you.

“I like ‘er.”

“Good, else this might have been awkward.” He pushes out casually, one arm going to cross his chest to rest on his shirt collar. “There’s always eloping, aye?”

Before his mother can grab at his ear again, you call out, and, like the dog he is, John’s head swivels and his expression settles down easily.

“John, come and tell your part from Brazil! I only have my half, and I always forget the piece from—”

“From the time I catch the HVT on to the time the spider bit my fuckin’ arse, yeah, Bonnie, I know.” He smirks, waltzing over to the chair you sit in, and firmly moves you over with a grab at your arm. You hum in confusion, but it’s not long before John takes your seat and drags you atop his lap. Blinking quickly, you humph and look down at him with a raised brow.

“We’re at your parents’, John,” your face is heated, voice hushed as you slap at his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Holdin’ my future wife, Dearie, isn’t it obvious?” The man’s lips twitch. “Ah, it’s fine. Settle back and let me speak now, eh?”

You fake glare, rolling your eyes, but your legs shift nonetheless to a more comfortable position as John’s mum and dad share a soft look with one another. They really couldn’t have asked for a better match—you evened out his hard slyness, the wrinkles on his forehead, and the age that lies under John’s beard. And in turn, you seemed to beam and be about as easy a person to get along with as any.

Even from the rare letters that the two would get, they had known you were something special because you’d been mentioned in the first place. John rarely told of his work, even less so about people.

As John gets on with his side of the humorous and mostly dumbed-down tale of one of your shared operations together, they see you watch him; take in every word. The smile that peels your lips as you shake your head and say, ‘I never tripped, MacTavish, get that out of your head. You made that up—he made that up.’

“I didn’t,” John huffs, glaring at you. “You went down and got covered head t’ foot in mud, then I told you to get your arse in gear and ya cursed at me like a sailor.”

“Bullshit,” you raise your brows, pointing into his face. “You’re losing it!”

“Oh, we’ve been past that bend a long time ago, Bonnie, c’mon now.”

The parents watch on, smiling.

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #captain mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #captain john mactavish #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #x fem!reader #john mactavish

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bbunisre · 2 months ago

Text

EPISODE 1

PAIRING ☆ jean kirschtein x fem!oc! ( you can just imagine it as yourself!!! i tried to describe physical features for this purpose x )

WARNINGS ☆ no smut in this one, dirty, slowburn, lots of teasing, a little niccolo x oc, voyeurism (???), vulgar and dirty jokes lol, baddie main character

SUMMARY ☆ In which Mirabelle enters Paradis Island years before the Liberio Attack and finds herself instantly interested in Jean Kirschtein, an innocent man who is soon tied mercilessly to her womanly wiles. Jean attempts to escape her but can only run so far before he starts running back to her.

WORD COUNT ☆ 12k

TAGLIST ☆ @lakeiskewl @greenie-c @alt--er--love @kcch-ns @nobodybutnnoorr @biggityboppingboob @sssmokesignalsss lmk if u want to be added <3

MASTERLIST

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Living in the storage section of a Marleyan warship for several days comes with having my limbs squished between a box of deactivated bombs and ration packs. It’s one of the several cons of being stuck here, besides the seasickness, having to freeze up when soldiers come in to look for things and multiple hours of being bored, plotting my arrival.

Voices atop tell me there’s a disturbance up ahead the boat. Well, they aren’t telling me. The Marleyan soldiers don’t actually know I’m here at all. It should be kept that way until it’s time is what Yelena strictly instructed.

It’s been forever-and-a-half since we left Marley! We certainly must've arrived on the coast of Paradis by now. I’ve been sharpening the blade all this while like a good girl. Can something happen already?

I stretch my body after eight hours of sitting in a cramped position. The commotion above doesn’t surprise me as I feel the familiar pull in my limbs and torso. An assassin’s flexibility is unmatched, a small breeze in the air, seductive and chilling as we kill our victims.

An explosion and a loud horn cause yells on the warship but a smile on my face.

Thank you, Yelena.

I flip the dagger into my belt as I make my way up the stairs I snuck down merely a few days ago.

I have to be quick but soft.

They can’t know I’m here.

Not yet, at least.

The cool air makes contact with my skin, clearing my lungs and any mustiness that has accumulated instantly. But there wasn’t any time to relish in this moment. I’m here to get the job done—the Beast is counting on me.

The soldiers are stunned at what’s in front of them. I try to get a look at the situation from where I am, right behind, in the corner of the door where no moonlight can reveal me.

Outside is dark, but lighter than inside the storage bunker where I couldn’t figure out who was coming unless I really tried to listen through the water. The first thing I notice about Paradis Island is that the stars here are explicit, little trinkets hung on the blanket they sit on. That, and the many lights by the tents that illuminate where they must be living. Yelena did tell me when she snuck into Marley in between to pick up a couple of the supplies that the stars here shine way brighter.

It’s beautiful.

I shake my head. I can look at the stars later. I have to assess the situation we’re in first.

Beyond the vessel is rocky land and what looks like many rifles being pointed towards the warfare ship. I attempt to look for Yelena through the hunter green capes but the lanky woman is nowhere to be seen.

I roll my eyes.

Looks like I’ll have to get to work.

Cracking my neck, I slide behind the soldier closest to me.

I slink my arms around him, one coming up to cover his mouth and one around his torso and arms. I whisper in his ear, “Make this easy for me.”

He whimpers against the palm of my hand, making me smile.

That’s cute. He’s scared of me.

The power thrills me, sending goosebumps through my skin. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in action.

I snake up his chest, up his neck. before he can move or do anything, I twist his neck. He falls onto my lifted foot like I wanted, noiseless and efficient.

The rest of the soldiers are paying attention to the rifles pointed at them and a Paradis person screaming through a megaphone at how excited they are to see Marleyans on their grounds and how they want to invite all of us onto their island.

Is that supposed to be welcoming?

I snatch the pistol off of the soldier I just injured, popping a few bullets into the barrel. The soldier opens his mouth, heaving in to scream but I smash my foot onto his face, glaring right down at him.

That was a close one.

They’re all blindly focused on the Paradis soldiers so I make the decision to move.

Now or never, baby.

I cock back the pistol, gaining the attention of the Marleyans.

Their eyes widen.

I clear my throat, “Hi!”

“Who are you?!” the captain of the ship hollers at me.

I kick back the face of the soldier underneath me and walk towards the Captain. The soldiers pull out their guns rapidly, only to cause me to laugh.

“Don’t shoot, men.” he orders them in his husky tone.

“Doesn’t matter if they only got dummy bullets in them.”

The Captain hesitates, puzzled by my response, “Excuse me—”

“You’re too slow, Captain.”

I launch the dagger into his neck. Blood splatters out of his throat and mouth as he lands with a thud. He’ll be dead soon. I stabbed the artery after all!

Slipping my dagger right back out, five men charge towards me, hostility swimming through them.

I kick the first one on the side of the face, sending him towards the side. The next two with simple dagger slices in their necks like their damned Captain. The next one is a dodge—I let that one fall over the boat and into the water.

The last soldier grabs me by the shoulders while I’m cackling at the soldier who fell overboard. He shoves me against the boat’s railing. My head hits the metal, a weird vibration making the world spin in a way seasickness could never.

Said soldier grabs his pistol and shoves it into my mouth.

I cry aloud. He yanks my hair back so I can properly taste the coarseness of the instrument almost hitting the back of my throat.

I’m going to pass out from suffocation or a dummy bullet.

It’s going to be the end of me.

“I’m going to choke you out, whore.” he says.

It’s then that a lightbulb goes off in my head.

He gets off on the fact that he’s in power right now, that at any moment now he can push me off the boat, shoot a bullet down my throat and touch me however he pleases. The sinisterness in his eyes illustrates his devotion to his job, the real grotesque that comes with it.

I’m dealing with someone much like me—a sadistic fuck.

With all my strength, I discreetly pull out my own pistol that I stole earlier, tears slipping out of my eyes.

Just one push, just one push—

I heave my knee into his manhood and shoot him in his abdomen.

He flies back, along with his pistol.

Coughing, I grab my dagger and kick his chest to send the man flying down onto the wooden board. He yells in pain, a cry that is my favourite sound a human’s ever made. It’s washed out and terrible, sending a chill down my spine.

I swear I hear cheers from the island but it could just be my near passing out from the pistol down my throat.

I straddle the crying soldier and raise the dagger above my head.

“Please,” he blurts out, “Please spare me, ma’am.”

I throw my head back, laughing, “Oh God…no!”

The dagger sinks into his face. Right in between his eyes, at the beginning of the slope of his nose.

One stab renders him deceased.

However, one stab doesn’t satisfy the assassin in me.

Two, three, four, five, six—blood splatters onto my face and clothes, a forced strength coming out of my arms and the target’s face absolutely unrecognisable.

Finally, when I’m about to take the seventh, someone pulls me away from the body forcefully. I launch the dagger backwards but it’s caught for the first time by a hand right above their head.

Instead of trying to pull it out, I yelp in surprise.

“Yelena!” I huff out.

“About to kill me too?” she jokes, nothing in her eyes. As usual.

“Yelena~!” I repeat and wrap my arms around her torso.

“Gross.” she sighs at all the blood of two Marleyans rubbing onto her ironed, white shirt.

Yelena kindly puts a towel around my shoulders.

That’s right. I didn’t even think to check on myself.

I’m breathing so hard, there’s blood all over my hands and clothes and I’m super excited that I completed my mission to perfection again.

“Oops.” I chuckle, pulling out, “I can’t believe you guys left me!”

“Not my fault someone slept through their alarm on the day we left.”

I punch her playfully, glad I finally see someone I’m familiar with after so long.

“Let’s go.” she says.

“Oh, the sailor! I haven’t killed him yet!” I tell her, pointing at the back of the ship,

Yelena shakes her head, pulling my bloody arm towards the dock, “That’s enough killing for you today. We’ll handle it from here. Let’s go get cleaned up first.”

As I walk down the wooden dock, impressed, blank faces stare back at me. My breathing slows down to a steadier pace as I stare right back, unsure on how to react to this weird attention. What I just did is equivalent to a murderous performance.

I don’t think they’ve seen a massacre happen so quickly in front of them. I don’t blame them. I set a record in Marley. Especially working for the Tybur clan, I was trained to be the assassin I am today. However, I’m not particularly used to doing it in front of people.

That’s the thing about assassins, we’re supposed to take one’s life in private.

“Get to work!” one of the Paradis soldiers yell, “Stop staring, brats!”

A few soldiers walk down the dock, presumably to get the sailor’s head. One of them stands out—extremely tall, brown hair and a sparkle of innocence as he watches me intently. There’s curiosity within that innocence I discern easily, a little mouse coming out of its hole, respectfully.

A smile forms on my lips.

He blinks at me, blank, yet he knows I’m looking exactly at him.

He walks right past me, avoiding eye contact once he’s close.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

The image of gooey blood splattered on her face paired with a bewitching smile from the newcomer has Jean Kirstein confused on one side and intrigued on another. Confused because when the Marleyans said that one of their people was delayed back at Marley, he was expecting another male soldier who’s higher ranked, which is why they wanted him here to help out. Intrigued, because now that he knows it’s a woman, he wonders what kind of situation she was put in to create a flawless combat style.

As the moonlight flashes on her face, reflecting the glossy blood and the glimmer of her teeth. She looks incredibly insane and proud of herself for what she’s done.

Taking down six men in five minutes? Jean has never seen that happen before. The most impressive stunt he’s seen pulled off was Captain Levi taking down five Titans in under a minute—a whole other thing if he was to compare the two. It’s not comparable. By far, Captain Levi is the best he’s seen before.

But, still.

The woman lingers in Jean’s mind.

As he walked back to the tent him and Conny were sleeping in, he couldn’t help but wonder about her. The way she made eye contact with him as if she could read his thoughts then and there was sufficient to know that she’s seductively dangerous. Almost as if her sole purpose was to lure Jean in—

“Sorry,” he mumbles incoherently as he bumps into someone.

“Are you okay?” Mikasa asks him.

Jean blinks up at her, escaping his trance. He’s never been the distracted type before.

It’s rare for Mikasa to ask her comrades, it’s often she presses that question towards Eren Yeager. Deep down, Jean wishes Mikasa would be concerned with him the way she was with Eren. He really likes her and wanted to sought out for her ever since he came to know her. Eren took all her time, energy and love, now, Jean remains in the immovable comrade-zone.

He forgets the mesmerising aura Mikasa has that made him fall for her in the first place, “Fine.”

She walks off without another word. All she needed was that little ‘fine’ to let her keep going about her day.

After all, she had to go tend to Eren like she was some servant.

Jean sighs as he enters the tent, lamenting about Mikasa and knowing there’s nothing he can do about her or her so-called duty to Eren. He can’t help his attachment.

He gets ready for bed and the moment him and Conny turn off the lanterns to sleep and darkness fills his sight, the Marleyan soldier comes to mind again. It’s like she cast a spell on him the moment they locked eyes on the dock.

Her smile, he thinks.

It was beautiful amongst the slaughter on her face.

How can one make the wretched so beautiful?

☆

Conny and Jean are in charge of putting away the deliveries the camp receives from the Walls. The cart is full of food, weaponry and other things that would make living here easier.

They’d discussed that the Marleyans should be doing the labour here but Hange countered, arguing that it wouldn’t be right for the cause they were fighting for. Jean agreed—they had a point. They were trying to do good for the world. What would be the point of making Marleyans do all the work when they were fighting for equality?

As time goes on, Conny and Jean become exhausted and settle into the carts themselves.

“I need a drink.” Conny groans, leaning his head back on the cart.

Jean hums in response. The sun was burning their backs as they slaved the day away, barely breaking in between to keep this damn camp going.

“Conny! Jean!”

They lift their heads to see who’s calling their name.

It’s none other than Onyankopon, walking towards them with a great, big smile on him, a wave and a guest in tow. Jean wishes he was as positive as Onyankopon looked right now. He’d be getting through these deliveries in no time.

He looks over at the guest Onyankopon brought along.

Right then and there, chills run down his spine.

There’s no way.

He straightens up effective immediately.

“Wanted to introduce you to someone new!” Onyankopon says as he arrives at their cart, “She arrived last night.”

Jean’s eyes are plastered at the Marleyan soldier, eyes wide, consuming her presence. She’s piercing with caramel tones and charcoal hair, illustrating her humanity. Nonetheless, her eyes tell him something else. There’s a certain depth in them, a void that can suck you in if you look too long.

She steps up.

“Mirabelle.” she states, ample confidence, “Mirabelle Windrider.”

Sultry voice that coats strawberries with chocolate. The woman stares straight into him, taking words right out of his mouth and stomping them on the ground before her. The corners of her lips quirk upwards into a minute smile as if she knows exactly what she just did to him.

“Conny Springer.” Conny responds, “Weren’t you the chick that killed all those soldiers last night?!”

She laughs, “May have been.”

“You were so cool!” Conny continues and Jean would’ve looked at him but he’s currently too occupied with the newcomer, “The way you knocked them all down. Jean and I were talking about you last night! Everyone was.”

“Were you?” Mirabelle’s eyes easily wander to Jean. “Who’s this?”

He has nothing to say. He can’t say anything.

“Cat got your tongue, Jeanie-boy?” Conny calls. “You know staring at a lady is rude!”

Jean will deal with Conny later. Right now, her slightest provocation forces Jean to give her his name. “Jean Kirstein, ma’am.”

“Jean…” she utters and his eyes widen with fear? Anxiety?...desire?

Onyakopon comes into frame and she leans against his arm which she somehow can despite the man’s height. “Ma’am? She look that old to you, boy?”

“N-No! Of course not, just didn’t wanna disrespect her.” Jean blurts out as Mirabelle laughs.

There she goes again with that smile like she likes watching him twitch under her glance.

Onyakopon sighs, looking down at Mirabelle, “At it again?”

“What’s wrong with a little fun, Onya~”

Before he could think about what she meant by that, Onyankopon says to them, “We’ve got to attend some meetings. Hope you gentlemen do well.”

“Bye!” Mirabelle waves at them.

“Bye!” Conny replies.

“...bye.”

When they leave, a sigh leaves Jean. A couple seconds of silence passes them until Conny finally speaks up, “Hot stuff, huh?”

“What?”

“Ma’am.” he mocks.

Jean furrow my brows, “Shut up, Conny.”

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Paradis Island is a blast.

Besides sleeping inside a tent, I’ve had fun the last couple of days, getting to know the nation’s people and growing the bonds I already have. What Marleyans say about Paradis Island is nowhere near true but honestly, you’d have to have a brain to know that. They’re anything but devils, they’re humans trapped in walls and know nothing of the outside world.

Hange Zoe, Commander of the Scouts, has created a timetable for me this week so it’d make it easier for me to settle in.

How kind of them. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten close to this treatment back in Marley, even as a respected assassin.

The next thing on my schedule is a team building session with none other than Hange Zoe leading it. I’ve done a couple the past few days and it’s my favourite so far—something lighthearted amongst all the tedious soldier work.

As someone who’s not a soldier, the training style is different from what I’m used to. I mean, it is still combat training but it’s coarse, explosive training rather than the elusive, cunning style I’m used to.

When I pull up to the grassy patch a hundred feet from the camp, Hange is waiting with a group of Marleyans and Eldians, animatedly chatting with the group.

That’s one thing I love about Hange so far. They see no difference in our races unlike other members in the camp.

“There she is!” they exclaim as I join the circle, “Our final member.”

“Hello.” I greet everyone, looking around the circle.

I stop almost immediately. Two people over is none other than the starer.

Jean Kirstein’s eyes widens at seeing me join the circle.

There he goes again.

“Now that everyone’s present, today we’ll be playing a fun, little game I’ve conjured up when working with Cadets! Heard you Marleyan soldiers had no fun when in military, so this will be a little refresher.” Hange explains, “Now, sit down, sit down.”

We all do as they say, plopping onto the grassy land.

“This game,” they start, “Is called, ‘two truths, one lie’. It’s just as stated. We will go around the circle, telling two truths and one lie. The point of this game is to decipher the lie through the three statements told. It’s going to help us understand tidbit information about each other and hopefully, bring us closer as a team. Sounds easy enough?”

The group agrees. We take some time to think about our statements before Hange goes first, telling us that they are the example round, “Okay, so I’m the Fourteenth Commander of the Survey Corps, Captain Levi Ackerman is my best friend and I hate Titans.”

“I am not your best friend.” Levi responds indifferently, “That’s the lie.”

Hange chuckles, “Yes, you are, silly.”

Aw.

Levi rolls his eyes, “You’re so obsessed.”

They hit his shoulder, “You’re mean and short, so you’re just as bad.”

He glares right back at them.

“You’re the Fourteenth Commander, that’s the lie!” a Marleyan speaks up.

“No,” I interrupt before they can give away the answer, “It’s that they hate Titans.”

All eyes are on me.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve stayed quiet during team building sessions, only participating when absolutely necessary. No matter how lively I am around the Marleyans, being thrown into a completely new circumstance can make anyone nervous. So, staying quiet and observing is the best way to be until I’m comfortable enough.

Now I’m comfortable enough.

“Yes!” Hange answers, “How did you know, Mirabelle? I don’t remember telling you.”

I purse my lips and look down on my lap, a little embarrassed, “Not directly, but I overheard you telling other Marleyans that you had two Titans called Sawney and Bean. You said you adored them like they were your children. Plus, you don’t seem the type to hate Titans.”

Hange’s eyes light up.

“Sawney and Bean!” they gasp, “Bless them. Can we have a moment of silence for Sawney and Bean—”

“Those asswipe Titans? No.” Levi interrupts, raising an eyebrow, “Get on with the stupid game. I don’t know why you insist on these timewasters.”

“Ugh,” they groan, “This is not a waste of time! Having team building sessions helps people get along and build bonds. Like you care about any of that stuff, grumps!”

“Exactly. I don’t.”

“Okay, so shut your mouth. Don’t listen to this party pooper, guys.” Hange sighs, causing us to laugh, “It’s your turn, Mirabelle. Give us your statements.”

I nod, having my statements ready to go, “I’m left-handed, I’m an assassin back in Marley and—”

“You’re not left-handed.”

It seems as if Jean is confused as to why he spoke so quickly before I finished my statements. I’m confused, too. How did he know that was the lie?

“I’m not?” I ask, trying to throw him off.

He shakes his head, right on the money, “You’re right-handed. I remember the way you held the gun at the Captain on the boat that night. You were in a right-handed stance.”

It takes me a second to digest that.

It was dark that night, how could he have seen my stance?

“Did I get it?” he asks.

I smile at him, genuinely, “Yeah…you did.”

He must’ve really focussed on me on that boat. My heart races a little. To have someone enraptured by me is a feeling I haven’t had in a while.

“Well done, Jean!” Hange compliments, clapping, “Great attention to detail! See, guys. This is the point of the game. It’s to understand each other better, so we can have trusting bonds when in combat.”

Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“You better get your lies ready, Levi,” Hange warns, “You’re after Jean.”

For some reason, Levi looks scared. He is slipped into a trance, probably trying to think of his three statements to tell everyone.

“Go on, Jean,” Hange prompts

I watch Jean think about his statements, scanning the grass below him until he lifts his head, “Alright.”

He looks right at me.

He blocks the eight others around us, part of the game and shoots his statements at me.

It’s a challenge.

“I was forced to become a part of the Survey Corps, my mom makes the best omelettes and my friends call me ‘Horseface’.”

“The first one.” I tell him before anyone can say anything. I don’t think anyone was going to anyways. It was aimed at me. He wants me to get it right, there’s a desperation screaming at me to do so.

He blinks at me, “What? How?”

“I don’t think you’re the type of guy to be forced into the Survey Corps. You probably joined it because it matched your ideals and were willing to go far enough to obtain a goal. In that sense, I think most Scouts are like that anyways…did I get it?”

Jean nods, ever so slowly.

“Yay!” I reply.

An invisible line threads between the two of us, connecting us in the moment. Jean seems lost in thought as if it was the first time he was acknowledged for his decisions.

I’m glad I was able to give him that.

The Scouts in this island deserve that more than anything. The recognition and the pride that comes with it. It’s not an easy job, after all.

We’re looking at each other until Levi speaks up at last, “Get a room, the two of you.”

☆

“Mirabelle, Mirabelle! Wait up!”

I turn around, a running bald boy coming my way.

“Hi. Conny, was it?”

He slams his hands on his knees, catching his breath, “Y-Yes.”

“How can I help you?”

“Are you busy?’ Conny asks.

“Huh?”

“Are you busy at the moment?” he repeats.

What is this about?

“Not particularly, no. Sorry, what’s this about?”

Conny straightens up and grins at me. I try to return it with a boxy grin of my own but all this seems a little suspicious to me.

“Would you like to eat with us?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you like to have lunch with me and a few other Scouts?” Conny invites.

Oh.

“Oh my God. Yes!. I would love to.” I nod enthusiastically,

“Right this way, ma’am.”

“Stop that.” I chuckle.

“I’ve never seen Kirstein act like that in front of a woman,” he says, as I follow him.

So we’re having this conversation?

“Uh-huh.” I reply, trying to stay uninterested.

Giving Conny the wrong impression is the last thing I want to do. Yes, it may be true that Jean caused my heart flutter earlier but that was for a mere moment. I’m not interested in anything except keeping things cool and casual. Imagine if he thinks I’m interested romantically.

That would send the wrong message.

“He’s really a good guy,” Conny continues, “Don’t tell him I said that but he’d take good care of his missus, if he had one.”

“I see.”

“What do you think of him, Mirabelle?”

Did Jean set him up to this?

No, it can’t be. Jean seems like he barely knows that he’s interested in me. Conny, on other hand, as someone who’s on the outside of this situation probably read in between the lines and got a grip on the situation.

“He’s nice.” I reply.

“Nice~” Conny sings, “Anyways, we’re here!”

He’s brought me to behind a tent where a bunch of Scouts are sitting on upside down crates and eating from paper plates.

“Hi!” all of them greet me.

There’s four of them, including Jean, who is just as shocked to see me there as I am him. Oh, what did I expect coming with Conny?

I look at Conny, raising an eyebrow. He just shrugs, nonchalantly. Is he playing wingman right now? There’s nothing to play wingman for!

This is ridiculous.

“Hello.” I wave at them.

“The food’s over there, by the way.” a girl with a high ponytail and a stuffed face says, “You can help yourself!”

“Alright, thanks.”

I grab my lunch at the stand and come back. Jean quickly stands from his crate and gestures for me to sit down.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, I—”

“I already finished eating.” he interrupts, clearing his throat.

It’d be rude to decline so I take the crate, muttering a small word of gratitude.

The crates are assembled in a circle so I can see the new people I’m sitting with. Conny and Jean stand nearby, joining the conversation.

“I’m Mirabelle, by the way—”

“You’re the girl that knocked down those Marleyans a couple days ago, right?” the girl with the ponytails says, “Sasha, nice to meet you.”

“You’re right! It is her.” a blonde boy exclaims.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Sasha answers, “This is Armin and Mikasa. You’ve met Conny and Jean?”

I look up at Jean and smile a little, “I have…it’s nice to meet you all.”

And the questions come instantly.

“How did you kill them all?”

“Are you a soldier? You’re not wearing a uniform.”

“How do you get your hair like that?”

“How come you came in later compared to other Marleyans?”

“Hey.” Jean interrupts the eager Scouts, “Let her eat before you talk her ears off.”

“That’s okay, Jean.” I laugh, “Let’s see,” deep breath “I’ve been trained to kill multiple people simultaneously. I’m not a soldier, I’m an assassin. My hair? Well, it’s this product I got from Marley. Totally cannot live without. I can share it with you if you like. I came late because I accidentally slept in when Onyankopon was leaving so I ended up having to find my own way here.”

They stare at me in awe.

“Any more questions?” I ask.

Shaking their heads, they go back to their food.

☆

“That’s the thing, Onyankopon. I don’t want to be trained like a soldier!” I whine behind him, “My combat style is already flawless and the way the soldiers train is so rough and not adequate for a nimble girl like me.”

“That’s a conversation for you to have with Hange, not me.” he replies.

It seems that Onyankopon doesn’t grasp my joke like he usually does. His lightheartedness and otherwise bubbly attitude has gone out of trace and is replaced with someone serious and, well, not so Onyankopon.

I slide off the horse we arrived on together as it stops before the Walls.

“Mhm, right and you know I’ll convince them anyway.” I say, attempting to bring my best friend out.

It’s not about the training anymore, it’s about making Onyankopon smile again. I miss that cheesy grin of his already and it’s been, what? Twenty-hours of this gloominess that has gone by?

“I doubt that but you can try. No one’s stopping you.” he shrugs, “Now that I’ve dropped you here, may I please go attend to my business in Wall Sina?”

“If I say ‘no’—”

“Goodbye.” he says and I think he’s about to go before he make a face and looks back at me, “Also, don’t play too much around the Kirstein boy.”

Ah.

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask him innocently, patting the horse’s mane. She has lovely hair indeed, the embrace of rich earth.

Unfortunately, Onyankopon has turned to ultimately-serious-bossman mode. He sighs, “You know what I mean.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having fun, Onyankopon. You should have some fun these days.”

“It’s not fun to be put in that position, Mirabelle. They actually have a word for that.” he says, whipping the reins on the horse.

It moves forward, forcing me to jump back with a gasp.

I cup my hands over my mouth and yell, “What’s that?!”

“Torture!”

“Who’s got his panties in a twist?” I ask myself, watching Mr Grim Reaper himself head off into the gates of Shiganshina.

My stomach twists with unease. He makes it sound like I’m going to cause pain to Jean when that’s nowhere near what I want to do. It doesn’t hurt anyone to flirt and play around a little without any strings attached. At least that’s what it’s like back in Marley.

I could do it as much as I want, until—

“I-I’m not sure.” a voice comes from behind me.

Jean.

“Oh, hi!” I greet him and point in the direction of the gone man, “Did you hear that conversation by any chance?”

He shakes his head, “Just what you said at the end. Onyankopon seems a little grim.”

“Yeah, I think the meetings are getting to his head.” I answer, admiring Jean from below.

Up close, the guy’s big, tall and broad simultaneously. He has slender eyes paired with long, thin eyebrows which exudes a feminine aura amongst the straight nose and frowned mouth. Additional to that, there are those pretty, long lashes that cave his eyes; every fluttering blink is one alike to a lovely maiden. He’s quite handsome though, a gentlemanly handsome that is difficult to find within this field of work.

“I can imagine.” he says.

It appears he's curious about why I'm staring at him. He doesn’t back down or look away from me, he stares back this time.

So he’s not the nervous wreck I thought he was?

“I thought Hange was training me…” I say, peering behind his shoulder to see no zealous Hange running around, ready to train me.

“About that.” he sighs, “Commander’s gone to a meeting so she told me to train you instead and she sends her regards. I’m gonna be showing you how to use the ODM Gear, hoping that’s okay.”

“Huh…” I respond inquisitively and before I can stop myself, my hands are touching the cool rectangles on his hips. The technology here is definitely a lot more advanced than what I was expecting. It’s so…wait, “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

I can see the alarms going off in his head.

“I don’t know.”

Has a woman never touched him before?

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, “I—”

“Jean.” I utter, holding his shoulders in my hands. He tenses up immediately, answering my question right away, “You’re gonna train me just fine. Don’t be scared. Is this your first time?”

Both of us know the real reason why he’s shaking in his boots; however, neither of us can say the reason aloud.

“My-my first time?”

“First time training someone?” I clarify with a small giggle.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then, let’s go! Where’s the equipment?”

Jean brings me closer to the Walls. A green crate is loaded with ODM Gear equipment, including the gas cylinders, blades and harnesses. After putting on the various different equipment and being safely strapped up, Jean demonstrates how to use it.

“Your turn.” he prompts me.

“Okay.”

“So, you have to—”

I press the triggers, aiming high enough on the Wall and the gear yanks me up forcefully. I gasp, thinking I’m going to smash my face on the wall but I manage to plant my feet on the Wall, keeping my stance light on the surface.

“Like that?” I ask Jean, looking down at him.

He’s about twenty feet away from me, eyes widened to the brim, “T-That’s perfect! Can you get down?”

I do the same thing backwards and climb down the wall to meet him again.

“How?” Jean asks, his eyes glistening with admiration.

I pull back the strings and they snap into the contraption they come from. I laugh, “I don’t know! But that was really fun! Kinda like rock climbing.”

“Rock climbing…?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

I forget how underdeveloped it is compared to Marley.

“It’s like a…sport, I think? People climb up rocks or walls using their hands and feet and there are these things that stick out that you use to push yourself up and climb up.” I explain, “I used to have to do rock climbing for training. It’s fun!”

He nods slowly, understanding the concept of it, “That does sounds fun.”

“When we go to Marley together, I can show you!” I tell him.

“Together?”

I want to bite my tongue.

“Not just the two of us! With everyone!” I declare, “Sasha, Conny, Armin, Mikasa, damn, even Captain Levi could climb.”

For the first time in my presence, Jean Kirstein slips out a genuine chuckle. Like he means it. There’s no nervousness exuding from him, rather the enjoyment of my presence.

“For sure, but I can’t get over how quick you grasped that. It’s not easy.” Jean replies, raising an eyebrow, “You’re good.”

I lean in slightly, dropping my voice a little, “I’m good at a lot of things, Jean…”

Just like that, the friendly air vanishes into the ether and is replaced with a drop of suggestion.

Jean freezes, dissecting my words before his cheeks turn red.

“Aw, look at you!” I point right in his face, “You’re blushing like crazy!”

“Am not!” he argues, quite defensively, “I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“You are!” I laugh, finding his coyness amusing.

What’s the point of not admitting it when I watched him come to an understanding on what I just said?

“Whatever,” he huffs and points back at the Wall, “Let’s keep training.”

I can’t stop laughing at him.

“It’s not that funny.”

☆

“Wanna go to the Marleyan restaurant in Wall Rose?” Sasha asks the group.

“Of course you wanna go there.” Conny remarks, suggestion glinting in his eyes.

She hits him on the shoulder, red creeping onto the apple of her cheeks.

I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what’s going on with that comment. I don’t question it too much, fatigued from the combat training we just came from.

To no avail, Hange highly suggested that I join combat training on the island, despite me being a combat virtuoso. They said, although my combat is adequate, there’s always room for improvement and practising on different targets would do me more good than worse.

I couldn’t argue with them there.

However, I thought I had it in the bag and could convince them otherwise, that’s what put me down, not the training itself. I always thought of myself as a finesser but I guess Hange is just way too smart to finesse.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Jean appears beside me, peering down with a cautious look on his face.

I nod, “Just a little tired.”

“I see.” he answers, “Combat training can be tiring around here.”

“Mhm.”

“Stop flirting with Mirabelle and tell us what you wanna do, Jean!” Eren exclaims, playfully punching Jean on the shoulder, “Do you wanna go to Wall Rose?”

Jean shoves him out the way, “Get out of my face, asshole…and as for the restaurant, I don’t think we should go. Everyone’s tired. We gotta go all the way to Wall Rose to eat?”

“Yeah!” Sasha exclaims.

“You just wanna see—”

Sasha slaps her hand to Conny’s mouth instantly, “Shut your ass up. Wanna come, Mimi?”

“For sure. I don’t have anything for the rest of the day either.” I tell her.

“Are you sure?” Jean asks me, “I thought you’re tired.”

“She just said she wants to go!” Conny argues, gesturing both his hands at me flamboyantly

“I’m not asking you.” Jean replies and looks back at me, waiting for an answer.

I break into laughter, “I’m fine with it, really, but a Marleyan restaurant? Didn’t know you guys would have those ‘round here.”

“Best food I’ve ever had.” Mikasa speaks up indifferently.

Everyone hums in agreement at her statement.

The last time I’ve seen people react like that towards food was when—

“Let’s catch the carriage before it leaves for the Walls!”

We run towards the carriages stationed at the exit of the camp, climbing into whichever ones were accessible to us first. I end up in the last carriages, not wanting to get in between Conny and Eren fighting to see which one would go into the first carriage. Jean follows me into the third and final carriage, presumably for the same reason.

“Have they all gone in the other carriages?” Jean questions, peeking his head out of the carriage.

“Seems like it.”

After a subtle neigh at the front, the velvety carriage starts moving. It renders me silent for a second as I try to comprehend what’s happening.

No one else is in the carriage with us. I’m going to be going to the Walls with Jean alone. I’ll have forty-five minutes of him to myself.

“I have to say,” Jean begins, five minutes into the ride, “The way you killed those soldiers when you first came…it was amazing.”

I cross my leg over the other, slinking them back to me as I lean back, “You think so?”

Jean nods vigorously, “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“I could tell.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

I take a trip down memory lane to the night before, re-imagining the look plastered on his face—the innocent intrigue and the shimmer of moonlight that swam in his light eyes. I can’t forget how he couldn’t take his eyes off of me, either. I felt so formidable in the moment.

“You seemed really curious,” I answer mildly. Offering a wry smile, I add, “It was cute.”

“Cute?!”

“Cute.” I repeat.

“Cute is not the word to describe me.” Jean retorts.

“Oh, yeah? Then, what are you?”

He rubs his chin, actually thinking about it.

I don’t know what starts it.

It must be the way his damn hair.

It falls in a way that looks incredible, it looks styled with a vehemence of boyishness. A

A sheen layer of sweat on his face, more visible when he looks to the side and the sun hits his face and rolled up sleeves to the elbow because of how hot it is out there. I've been trying to ignore it during combat but now, it’s making me squirm in my seat.

I think back to how he flung Eren to the ground as if he was just nothing to him, barely a sack of potatoes.

He’s so strong…I wonder if he can read my thoughts or I wonder if he can see how a pool of heat travels down to my womanhood and settles there like it’s its new home.

If he knew, would he let me take him right there?

“More like…handsome?”

Jean’s eyes sparkle again as he looks back at me—the same look in his face.

He has no fucking idea what he does to me.

I lean forward, arousal sticking to my clit as I mouth, “I’ll tell you what you are, Jean…”

“What’s that?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

He must think I’m joking around.

“I think you’re sexy.”

The tension in his jaw slacks, “W-What? I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain it to you.” I reply and reach out to touch a finger to his knee, drawing erratic patterns on it. He tenses up as expected and it goes quiet for a second. All I can hear is the wheels of the carriage pulling us forward and the slight breeze that enters the carriage, sending a chill down my spine.

“There’s a drive in you that I’m attracted to. Your provider mindset, for one, tells me that you bring what is important to the table and you think about others before yourself. But you do it in a way that’s not showy, it’s just who you are. And, when you like someone, you really dedicate yourself to them. The way you think about those you like is only out of love. And, my favourite,” I ease back onto my cushioned seat, the silence from him being the loudest thing in this carriage, “How you lose all power when you look at me.”

The Big Jean makes himself small in his seat.

“I’m sorry.” he almost whispers.

“Sorry? Shouldn’t you be saying ‘thank you’? I just complimented you!”

“Thank you.” he breathes out as if there’s no oxygen in here. He peers at his lap before he looks up, brow furrowed and uncertain, “I think you’re incredible too, by the way. Ever since I saw you defeat those soldiers, I—”

The carriage comes to a halt.

“Huh?”

We exchange a confused glance.

I peer outside the carriage. The carriage in front of us opens their door and out comes Sasha and Connny. They come into our carriage and get settled in here.

“What’s going on?” Jean asks disappointedly.

I nearly chortle at the tone in his voice.

“Sorry, Eren started blabbering about freedom.” Sasha replies, getting comfortable next to me, “I couldn’t stand another second of it.”

“He doesn’t get it. No one wants to listen to the same speech again and again.” Conny sighs, sitting next to Jean. He looks between Jean and me, “Bro, you’re like proper sweating. Maybe we shouldn’t have left you here alone with Mirabelle. What have you done with him?”

I laugh at his accusatory tone, “We were just talking.”

“Talking? Jean’s cooking in his clothes.”

“Shut up!” Jean says, pushing him away from him.

Jean casually throws one leg on top of the other.

It’s only when I look closer I see something peek up at me.

He catches me looking and changes the way he sits so it’s less obvious.

Little did he know, I’ve seen those countless times and it only takes time before one explodes.

☆

“Where’s Jeanie-boy gone?” Conny pipes up when we’re seated in the restaurant.

There are massive fans all around the dining area, cooling us down.

“I think he’s in the bathroom.” I answer casually as I look at the menu in front of me.

The restaurant is by far the most luxurious thing I’ve seen on this island. That’s saying a lot as someone who takes frequent strolls in Sina to attend meetings here and there. It looks somewhat familiar too, in the sense of the vibes.

“He takin’ a shit or something?” Conny remarks, causing the others to laugh.

Conny doesn’t know why he’s in the bathroom. I do. I just keep it quiet.

“What’s the best thing they do here?” I ask Mikasa who happens to be sitting next to me.

“I heard they do the lobsters best—”

It clicks right there and then.

“Hello, everyone. What are you…Mirabelle?!”

I dread it.

I dread it so bad, a morbid anguish blossoming inside me as I blink up.

In front of me is none other than Niccolo.

My ex.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

Jean doesn’t like how eloquent Mirabelle is.

Her lips move so languidly yet, manages to say everything it needs to within a short time. The way she talked to him in the carriage somehow undid him and his pants. Being stuck in a restaurant bathroom where the walls are paper thin and trying to release the pent up was more than a mere struggle.

He’s like a putty in her hands, moulded and crafted for her to use.

“You make me feel powerful” she had told him.

He hates how, for once, he cannot control what’s happening in his body. It’s like she’s found his weak spot and is stepping into it. It makes him feel powerless—nothing but prey in her eyes.

After the Marleyan restaurant and the ride home, his friends wondered what was wrong with Jean, why their constant teasing wouldn’t rile him up like it usually would.

Even when Jean slips under his covers at night, he thinks about how Mirabelle spoke to him. Her voice had an effect, she had an effect on him that he couldn’t recover from.

But he couldn’t let himself fall for her.

No way.

That was a death wish.

He would put a lock on his cock before he imagined how her hands would feel tugging on his hair. Or, maybe how she would sound when he pushes into her. How about how she’d feel clenched around him, all wet and tight for him?

“Fuck!” Jean shouts, sitting up in his bed.

“What the hell, man?!” Conny yells back, equally as frustrated. He sits up, flicking on his lantern, “What’s wrong with your ass?”

“Nothing,” Jean grumbles, getting out of bed, “I’m going out.”

“Where are you going, baby?” Conny asks, softening his voice, “Come on here now. Don’t leave a damsel like me in bed all alone!”

Conny makes what is a horrible attempt of a woman moaning. However, it didn’t matter if it was horrible. Jean had had it. Anything remotely sexual was going to have a horrible impact on him. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, he just knows it’s going to be bad.

He has to get out.

Outside the tent is a new world. He switches on his flashlight to guide him through the darkness to a place where he can unwind. Hopefully, a serene place where he can collect himself for a second and review what’s happening right now; somewhere with no commotion, just the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Like the rocky pools a few hundred metres from here.

He’d accidentally discovered it on a walk a while back. Whenever Jean needed to run away for a while, he’d go there. It's been his designated spot.

He walks around the tents, strictly divided between the males, females and the leaders of the place.

Some lanterns still shone despite it being past two am.

There were soldiers still planning how to defeat the enemy, coming up with constructive plans and discussing them until dawn. Hange, Levi and Yelena are likely to be awake to be a part of these discussions. They’re saving humanity, meanwhile, Jean had his head wrapped around some woman like a little boy.

Speaking of the devil, Yelena walks right up to him.

“Kirstein, is it?” she asks, getting a good look at his face in the dark, “What are you doing awake?”

Yelena’s comrade has shaken up his mind and he had to go on a fucking walk to clear his head. Obviously, Jean couldn’t tell her that.

“Just walking around.” he grumbles.

“Strange,” she notes with a subtle nod that Jean’s not sure the meaning of. Yelena is a woman of little words and sometimes those words don’t make sense, “Anyways, could you do me a favour?”

“Sure.” he accepts before thinking over it.

Jean would do anything right now to rid his mind off anything from Mirabelle. He could go to the rocky pools after completing the delegated task.

“I have tons of things to do right now and need someone to assist me. Could you fetch Mirabelle from her tent?” she asks, “I doubt she’s asleep at this hour and I could really use a hand…Kirstein?”

He cannot escape her.

She’s everywhere, at all times, consuming his every thought and circumstance and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Jean sighs in defeat.

“Is there a problem?” Yelena probes.

He will die if he’s asked another question.

Shaking his head, he replies, “I’ll go get her. Where’s her tent?”

“It should be the one that’s the top left corner.” she relays, “Tell her to come to the meeting tent.”

“Okay.”

Yelena walks off the other way.

It takes everything in Jean not to explode right there and then.

He takes as much of his frustration out on a nearby pebble, kicking it away, simultaneously being aware that there are people sleeping in the tents surrounding him.

What did he do to deserve this? This is torture, absolutely torture and he wouldn’t wish this on his biggest enemy. As if there weren't already enough problems with planning an attack on Marley, Mirabelle had to make his life miserable.

What should he do?

Oh, but she is so pretty.

Where should he run to and scream?

I want to get to know her more.

He can’t have a full mental breakdown even if he wanted to.

He’s not one for mental breakdown but this…this was a different cause.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

It’s all wrong.

He refuses to back down.

In fact, he refuses to submit to her womanly wiles.

Jean is a strong guy, scratch that!

Jean is a strong man with a strong will and numerous strongly built morals. No woman can control him like he’s her personal toy just like that. He is not easily swooned or influenced by anyone. As it happens, he is guarded.

Who is she to him?

No one.

Exactly.

He will go to Mirabelle right this moment and act as if she had no effect on him!

Yes, there we go.

That’s the Jean he knew. Arrogant, reckless and the daredevil.

Off he goes, towards the ladies side of the camp.

As he makes his way, he can’t lie, his heart is clutched in a fist.

It’s the remaining effects of Mirabelle scouring his tainted mind. It’ll take time for her to be removed from his brain but time was all that was needed.

If not, a lobotomy will do and who better than Hange to perform it? It’s a joke, that’s a joke, right? Jean forces his thoughts to still. He had to do a task first and he needed his full concentration to complete it. He doesn’t have time to waste.

As he inches to the tent Yelena described, he notices that Mirabelle’s lantern is one of the only ones that are turned on this late into the night.

She’s one of the campers that got lucky enough to have a tent to themselves. There could be a specific reason why. He softens a little, wondering what she could be doing up so late.

Maybe she had trauma-induced insomnia and she couldn’t sleep? What if she needed someone to be by her side right now?

No, stop.

He’s going to march in there, deliver a message, leave and assert the dominance that she took from him.

That is until he sees something strange.

Two pairs of shoes scattered outside the tent, thrown as if they’d been discarded in a hurry. The tent entrance itself is slightly open. Warm light peeks through like a tease.

It beckons him to get a look at what he can through the tear of the tent…and halts in place.

“F-Fuck, yes~! Right there, right there…” she breathes out, “Nngh~”

Jean’s mouth runs dry.

“You’re doing so good.” a man says, his voice low and muffled.

Jean is about to pass out.

It could be a mistake.

Maybe he’s seeing something wrong?

Upon closer inspection tells him otherwise.

A man kneels between Mirabelle’s parted legs. He hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer to his mouth, humming against her. Piercing his nails into the fat of her skin, demonstrating for anyone watching (Jean) that she is his.

The soft amber lanterns catch her breasts in the perfect angle, sitting beautifully on her chest. Of course he’s seen the anatomical body of a woman but like this? Never in a million years would Jean think he would see it tonight.

Mirabelle grabs his unruly blonde hair, pursing her lips. Her eyes flutter shut as she tilts her head back, the curve of her body arching, abdomen meeting the man’s forehead as she pushes him in harder. A desperate cry leaves her. It’s so velvety that Jean couldn’t believe it was her making those noises.

He shouldn’t be looking.

This is wrong of him.

Very wrong.

Jean is not a man, he is not moral, not strong-willed, not anything he wanted to be tonight.

As he’s about to turn away from the scene, seconds after accidentally looking in, Mirabelle’s head comes forward and her eyes lock with his.

It’s fueled with intensity. The golden flicker of the light takes a dip in her deliberate gaze. Instead of shock, all he sees is dark, wicked amusement plastered on her face like she’s won an award. She lets him watch, lets him bear witness to her, body moving with slow, languid precision, as though the very act of being observed excites her more. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, she. Gets. Bolder.

She smirks before tipping her head back and putting on the performance of her life, “Yes, Niccolo! I’m close, I’m so fucking close, baby—I’m gonna, ah~!”

Jean runs.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to get the fuck out of here.

Dashing through the dirty paths of the camp, it’s like his lungs want to jump out of his body. He’s in flight mode

“Jean?! Where are you going?!” Yelena shouts at him.

“Don’t go to Mirabelle’s tent!” he warns her

She cackles as he sprints away.

Had she known? If she had, why the hell would she make him go? He should’ve stayed in his room with damsel Conny!

After a couple minutes of running, he arrives at the rocky pools.

Far enough.

Far enough, physically.

Mentally? Never.

He leans against a rock, much taller and sturdier than he is. It’s been a while since he had to break into a full sprint like that. He never imagined catching people fucking would be the cause of it.

He places his head on the rock, sweat dripping down his face and a situation to handle.

A rock hard cock under his pyjama pants.

Jean’s heart is racing like crazy and he grabs his clamouring chest, gulping nothing but dryness down his throat. On the other hand, his cock throbs with unease. He needs to get off. His morals tell him no.

Fact of the matter, he doesn’t really have a choice in this.

Mirabelle’s face floats into his mind, her moans, her breasts…

Jean groans, sliding down the rock and hitting the hard ground with a thump.

He is so verily screwed.

He is screwed in a way that he’s never been screwed before and will probably never be screwed the way he is screwed now.

He has to do what he has to do.

Jean brings out his cock from his pants. Why wouldn’t his mind just match with his dick? What is the pain in that? He wonders, is there some part of him…a truly, screwed up, primal side of him that likes the way he’s being treated?

Does he like her having him in control?

Is he a…cuck for watching them like that?!

No, no, I can’t be. Not that.

It’s her.

It’s her long, black hair cascading in waves down her back. She tucks it behind her ear mid-conversation, focused on what the other person says. She nods, smiles and a little physical contact; usually, it’s a pat on the back or a playful hit on the shoulder.

Her skin is a soft radiance, captured by the core of the sun's embrace and light of the moon’s spirit.

Her laugh is a high-pitched melody and sounds like she’s being possessed by a banshee half the time. Nevertheless, seeing the corners of her lips perk up at something he said makes Jean swelter.

And, her body.

God, her body.

A divine sculpture—the ridges of her collarbone, the angle of her rounded shoulders and the curve of her waist; he thumbs the tip of his cock.

He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t stop himself from wanting her.

He wants to kiss her everywhere, appreciate her for existing as she is. She’s like nothing he’s seen before in a woman and there’s nothing more he’d want than to be a part of her world.

A low moan escapes his lips.

Jean’s hand travels down the shaft of his cock, pumping it slowly. Precum slips through the crack of his palm, lubricating him.

The throbbing takes a second to ease into his hand. As uneasiness turns into pleasure, the breeze waves into his face, washing over him.

Jean needs more.

He imagines her here.

He imagines her warmth.

He imagines her asking him how he got into this mess and asking him if he’d like her to take care of him. She looks up at him, sinister eyes and a grin he cannot fully comprehend. It’s in the middle of adorably charming and shit-eating. He tells her ‘yes’ with a shaky breath.

She takes his cock in her hand.

She spits on his tip, expertly bringing it down. Because Jean knows she knows how to treat his cock.

Her lips meet his in an embrace, traces of the strawberry jam she always buys from the market, a saccharine overload in his mouth. That woman has a knack for sweet things, it’s a bad habit at this point.

So is this.

“Shit—” Jean moans, biting his bottom lip.

He closes his eyes, a black screen providing a blank canvas for painting the horrid things he desires. No one’s going to be roaming here at this time. He’s free to do whatever he wants.

Then, Mirabelle climbs on top of him, her hands holding onto the blades of his shoulder like they did when he was teaching her how to use the ODM Gear. That slight squeeze and stability that she gave him was enough to send shivers down his spine.

She sinks down onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She grabs his hair, tugs it back just enough for Jean to let out another moan. He puts his face into her chest, hugging his arms around her whole body. There would be no sign of letting go anytime soon. He’d keep her to his body. He would want to stay inside her as long as possible, to keep that connection as long as possible. Because if it ended, Jean would have a missing heart and a half.

Mirabelle would ride him. She bucks her hips and mewl in his ear, making it tingle. She tantalises him, softens him and bullies him. She knows how bad he wants her.

Jean would feel so fucking full inside of her and she’d be so tight around him. Her walls surround his cock so tightly, he’s lucky he doesn’t have to breathe from down there.

He pumps his cock harder, his hips coming up to meet his fist’s demand and finally, he releases.

Strings of white fly out as Jean lets go of himself, falling back on the trusty rock that was able to support him through all this.

His sight blurs as he peers at the cloudless sky. A billion stars just watched him pathetically imagine a girl and masturbate to it.

It’s okay if he was pathetic.

He can be fucking pathetic for her.

What mattered more was that he wishes she was actually here doing all that to him.

☆

Jean hasn’t recovered.

When he’s seated at the Marleyan restaurant the next afternoon alone, there’s an air of gloom. He has no idea what to do now.

He hasn’t had much to do today, but his friends were piled with heaps to do. There wasn’t room for distraction.

According to Hange, they like to give soldiers rest days so they could reset and have an actual break. They said that it’s better for them to be different from his friends. The reason being that people need breaks from people too.

Levi full disagreed with the whole concept but Hange said it was especially for Levi since his tolerance for people was at a negative. He couldn’t argue with that.

It just so happens that today is Jean’s break day and he was stuck in the Marleyan restaurant before opening (soldier benefits), eating a meal alone.

Was it bad to come to the place where Niccolo works? Maybe. But he’s sure Mirabelle won’t turn up here. She has a hundred MP meetings to attend to.

She simply has no business here.

He had successfully avoided her the whole day. He will continue to do so as a means to escape thinking about whatever the fuck happened last night.

The Devil herself had slithered into his dreams last night. This was after he caught Mirabelle and went to fist his cock by the pools. He woke up rock hard—no pun intended.

You can imagine how scrambled his mind, heart and dick are right now.

Jean was extremely lucky that Conny sleeps like a log or else he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of that. What if it got to Mirabelle?

Double kill.

Anyways, he had avoided her the whole day and treating himself during the restaurant’s close before dinner openings was the best way to go about his day. If he stayed in his tent the whole day, he would’ve gone crazy.

He may have done something he wasn’t supposed to.

Although there aren’t any chefs running around (they gotta take breaks too!), he’s able to control himself in a public space. There was that to applaud amongst this mess.

“Well, well, well,” someone says from behind him, lightly stroking his back, “If it isn’t Peeping Tom.”

Jean freezes against the touch. Time itself stops.

She swivels around to meet his face, fingers still on his back.

He isn’t imagining her here, this isn’t a dream, she’s really here.

Jean chokes on his lobster. So hard that he doubles over his plate.

“Oh no, you poor thing.” she utters.

Mirabelle grabs the jug of water, pours it into Jean’s empty glass. He reaches out to take it from her. She doesn’t meet him halfway. Instead, she drinks the water.

Jean gulps down the cough and stares at her.

She laughs, “Here. Drink it.”

Mirabelle presses the glass against his lips.

Jean’s on autopilot, he tilts his head back and lets her feed him the drink.

Then, she sets the drink down and stares at him a second too long.

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how to process this and he can feel himself slowly getting hard again.

She’s done nothing, absolutely nothing and he’s wordlessly done for.

She reaches out and cups one side of his face, wiping a stray water drop from his face.

She punctures into his gaze and every wall he tries to set up for himself. It turns into paper and finds his real self, putting it up for display.

“Such a pretty face.” she mumbles.

And then, before you know it, she drops his face and leaves the restaurant.

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

“That’s absolutely outrageous!” Onyankopon cries, shooting up from his seat. He slams his hands on the table for effect.

I roll my eyes for what must be the hundredth time and yank him from the back of his blazer. He falls flatly on his armchair. The stress lines on his forehead aged him by twenty years.

The meeting room is silent but the faces of the MPs are tumultuous with worry. It’s not every day the Onyankopon breaks out in a frenzy. He’s easygoing for the most part.

I wish I could tell you why he burst out. Unfortunately, I’ve lost track of what the meeting was about. It’s some minute detail in the overarching plan.

When I agreed to go to all these boring meetings, what I’d been doing was dragging his ass back down and mediating the arguments that were happening. I’m only here for his comfort and support of these meetings.

I’m a perfect middleman.

I have to say, Paradis Island makes compelling insights. Yelena and Onyankopon do too. However, being the middleman, I have to take in consideration what is the best and causes the least harm and sometimes, both sides don’t seem to consider this as an option.

I appreciate my comrades for their work ethics. They’re more than comrades, they’re friends and if this makes their lives easier here in the meeting rooms, I’ll do it.

“Let’s take a break and resume later.” Pyxis instructs at last, “We need it.”

There’s no arguing there.

Everyone scours from the room, leaving Onyankopon and I alone.

“Can I bring you some water?” I ask gently.

The man is looking at his lap blankly.

Finally, he sighs, “No thank you. I would like to be left alone though. If that’s okay.”

“Sure.” I reply, standing up, “Collect your thoughts and we can talk again before the meeting. I’ll go take a breather too.”

“Okay.” he responds dryly.

I start heading towards the door.

“Mirabelle.” Onyankopon calls.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, ” he tells me, “I appreciate that.”

I smile, “Love you.”

“...love you too.”

Leaving the room, I head down many flights of stairs of the Mitras’ parliament building. I bid my respects to Queen Historia, who is visiting for a council meeting of her own and step out into the chilly night air.

There’s something about today’s air that makes it so special. The wind flirts with my hair, winding its way through the seams of my clothing.

To think this meeting was going to take my whole day? I was not expecting that.

I do hope Onyankopon is alright though. This is a lot of stress for one person to take. I want to help my friends. The only way I can do that is take on more, study more and morph into a soldier. There’s only so much the Marleyans can do here with our restrictions and such.

At least Paradis has a whole army, we’re on our own out here. I don’t know what’s going on half the time. I’m here because I hate Marley and this was a chance to go against them.

I’ve seen enough to prove that it is not an adequate place to live in. Especially as someone who worked close to politicians. Greed, hatred and sin, committed again and again with no remorse entailing their actions.

That’s not what I want to be a part of.

Assassination used to be a way to make money as someone coming from a low-income family and had to survive. I had to kill to survive—isn’t that ironic?

It’s time for me to put that behind me and turn a new leaf.

There is real happiness rooted in this island.

Coming here, I’ve realised the difference.

I’ve met it through my new friends, new life and…Jean.

“Mirabelle.”

I swivel around.

It is no one but him.

He’s standing under a streetlight like a full force manifestation of my thoughts. Slightly perplexed, a little untidy from the day’s labour but all in all, Jean.

“I was just thinking about you.”

The way we meet these days is starting to not come off as surprises anymore. It’s almost as if there’s this small part of myself that expects him there.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

“I…” he begins and drops his head, deeming the stoned ground more interesting than me, “I was just finishing up here, I was about to head back, actually.”

“Hm, must be fate,” I say, linking my arm around his. He flinches, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” he answers, a little more confidently than I know he’s feeling right now.

A simple touch must break his insides indefinitely. So I innocently smile, squeezing his arm closer to my face. His arm is tough and plush at the same time, telling me that there’s a good amount of muscle but soft enough for a lady to lay her cheek on.

“Shall we?” I ask, nodding towards the empty street, “I don’t have much time.”

“Okay.”

We walk down the moonlit street in Wall Sina.

I can feel tension in Jean’s strides. Every step that hits the ground is rough and not fully taken before he takes the other one. He’s not walking fast but there’s an impatience to the way he does this time around.

He doesn’t walk like this—he usually takes confident, full steps. It’s enough to tell me he’s still awkward from that.

It’s been a few days since Jean walked in on me and Niccolo.

Jean’s presence was nothing out of the ordinary. It was right for him to be there, to watch me and wish it was him that was between my legs like that.

I, for one, do wish that.

Since he zeroed in on me like that, I’ve never wanted anything more.

I’d take it so slow, nice and slow, fuck into him until he eases into my body and can take over. There’s nothing hotter than a man who lets me take the lead in the bedroom.

Niccolo doesn’t do that.

He’s controlling, demanding and can barely make me cum.

I have to clear this up with Jean first.

I don’t want this to get in between us.

It could start something new though…

“About that night.” I say as we stop under a streetlight, “Niccolo and I aren’t together. Like, at all. He’s an ex.”

It flickers, a constant struggle to seize the light, only for it to evade at every attempt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to walk into you and him. Yelena wanted me to get you—”

“No.” I interrupt firmly, “I know you like me and you liked what you saw.”

He unwinds his arm from mine, looking anywhere but at my face.

“I—”

He slowly backs up.

“You’ve felt that way from the start.” I continue, walking towards him, “It’s written all over your face. On the first night, in the carriage, when you walked in on me and, look, even now. Why can’t you just admit it?”

He hits the pillar of some desolate luxury motel, broad shoulders taking up the entire distance of it. Despite that, there’s this deniance furrowing in his eyebrows that I’m slowly starting to dislike. It was cute at the start but I need him to own up to it, own up to it like a man.

“...Mirabelle.”

What bullshit.

“Jean.” I state, looking up at him, “I want to fuck you so bad that it hurts.”

Like magic, the streetlight turns on. A gentle buzz maintains as I search his face. Red blossoms on his cheekbones but no words draw from his mouth.

“There you are, Mirabelle!” someone calls me.

Pyxis is in the distance, waving at me, “We oughta get going. The meeting is resuming soon.”

Talk about horrible timing.

“Right behind ya, baldie.” I reciprocate his wave.

Pyxis walks back towards the building and I turn back at Jean one last time.

One last chance…and…nothing.

I give up.

“Coming, Mirabelle:?” Pyxis calls.

“Yes!”

I walk away from what could have been.

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