#Raised wooden cat beds

[businesspilled]

i’m back in seattle oh my god thank god

[yueebby]

onsen incident  — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo satoru gets everything he wants and right now he really wants to go to an onsen with you.

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he's just a cute loser, highschool!gojo (first year), he needs to be locked up asap

notes. this is part ii to indulge me? and a piece in the series, but can be read alone.

you’re not sure how you ended up here. one moment you were exorcizing a grade one curse that rampaged a small town with gojo and now you find yourself back at the ryokan you had stayed at the prior night. except this time around you have an overly excited gojo, still at a high from the successful mission.

“suguru mentioned how nice the onsens here were,” he brings up innocently, his lips curving into a sly grin. you spare him a side glance. 

“we should be heading back to the airport to return to tokyo,” you asserted, eyes trained on the entrance of the onsen— a wooden paneled door leading to the private hot spring that came with the room you and gojo had unknowingly reserved. 

gojo stretched leisurely, his body arched like a cat as he yawns, “i don’t know about you but i’m beat! that curse wore out all my energy and a quick dip in an onsen is just what this body needs.” he opens one eye, gauging your reaction.

you don’t buy his act. “you exorcised the curse instantaneously, gojo.”

but gojo doesn’t back down easily, “yeah, well that took up a lot of cursed energy and now i’m drained,” he reasons. the white haired male solidifies his argument by collapsing on you just to show how fatigued he was. his dramatic show nearly sends you tumbling.

annoyance simmered in you, arms folding over your chest. the flight back to tokyo was in a couple of hours, and you had hoped to be able to go sightseeing. 

but gojo’s sky-blue eyes plead silently as they look up at you, unblinking. his pink lips start to quiver. it was hard to deny him when he was basically begging. as comical as his dramatics were, you could almost argue how hard it was to resist his unwavering gaze. plus, he was the one that completed the mission singlehandedly.  

“fine.” you yielded. “thirty minutes and then we leave.”

he perks up happily.

“great! let’s go!” without wasting a moment, he seizes your hand and practically skips to the entrance. 

you recoiled, nearly shrieking, “you pervert! i’m not going in there with you! i’m going to go sightseeing.” 

gojo looks at you like you’ve sprouted two heads.

“... then what’s the point of the onsen?” he looked at you incredulously. it deeply troubled you that someone so conniving could look so innocent.

your response is caught in your throat, leaving you flustered and unable to make eye contact. arms remained crossed, you mutter, “you’re insane if you think i’m stepping foot in an onsen with you.”

gojo’s tongue prodded at his cheek, lost in thought, “they do say you have to be insane to be a jujutsu sorcerer." he looks at you all enthused, "don’t be shy now, we’ve already slept together after all.” there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

“we slept in the same bed– not together! don’t you go spreading that around now,” you jump to cup a hand over his mouth. you feel him grin underneath the palm of your hand.

“same thwing,” gojo’s voice is muffled, but he doesn’t bother taking your soft hand off his face. 

“it is not,” you furrow your eyebrows. 

“it can be.” he wiggles his eyebrows, a boyish smile growing.

you remove your hand from his face, “have you no shame?” 

“not a shred,” he declares cheerfully. “come on, we’re wasting precious time standing here. i can feel the steaming water calling our names.” 

“i’ve told you already, gojo. i’m not going to a hot spring naked with you.” 

he waves his hand dismissively, “you don’t have to be naked, it’s not unheard of for people to go in with a towel.”

you sigh exasperatedly at his stubborn disposition, “it would still be highly inappropriate.”

“as inappropriate as cuddling with your classmate while he’s naked and unconscious?” he raises an eyebrow suggestively. gojo was once again referring to the previous night’s moment of vulnerability.

you stiffen. 

“it was not like that and you know it. for all i know, you were the one cuddling me,” you retorted, crossing your arms with a huff.

 gojo raises his hands in defense, “how about we call it even and hop in the hot spring together as a compromise?”

“that doesn’t make any sense.”

“it makes perfect sense. just two classmates relieving the weight of the world off their shoulders.” 

you hate that he’s starting to convince you. 

the knowing smile creeping on gojo’s face signals that he’s sensed your weakening resolve. he decides to deal the finishing blow.

“this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. with busy lives like ours, who knows the next time we will be able to visit one of the world’s best hot springs?” he gestures dramatically. reluctantly, you start to give into his words.

“fine. but if i see you indecent, i will kill you.” you point a finger threateningly at gojo. 

he simply chuckles, “kinky.”

operation satoru x [name]!!!!

gojosatowu attachment: 1 image

shoko.ieiri what the actual hell gojo.  i did not need to see a picture of you with nothing but a towel on. ts is disgusting.

getosugu where is [name]? i thought you guys were returning from your mission today.

gojosatowu heh the two of us are going to take a little dip in kyushu’s world famous onsens haha :3

shoko.ieiri WHAT

getosugu  you?? [name]?? onsen?? together?? gojo satoru explain hello?

shoko.ieiri where is [name] you dirty pervert  i swear i’ll murder you if you pull any dirty tricks answer now

gojosatowu gotta go! ive been dreaming of this day ><

shoko.ieiri  don’t you go ignoring us!!

you’re already settled in the hot spring by the time gojo arrives. with a snug towel secured tightly around your body, you are submerged underwater from the chest down. the steam curls lazily into the air, casting a dreamlike haze around you.

“for someone that was excited about the onsen, you came awfully late,” you quipped at the snow-haired boy. his signature glasses are absent, allowing you complete access to his azure eyes. on the other hand, gojo is granted the opportunity of seeing you in all of your natural beauty.

gojo enters the steaming water just a couple of feet away from you, “had to calm myself before seeing you.” he sighs contentedly when the water envelopes him. it was true. his nerves were a lot calmer when he was fighting the grade one curse than the short walk from the changing room to the hot spring.

you can't help but roll your eyes at his obvious flirtation attempt, but you decide to let it slide.

the conversation lapses into silence, an awkward veil settling between you. you were starting to regret ever entertaining gojo’s invitation to the onsen. to escape the discomfort, you divert your gaze to the steam rising from the water's surface and the surrounding rocks. the trees around you start to look interesting as you focus on not letting you eyes stray on gojo’s solid buil—

breaking the silence, gojo interjects, "did ya think i looked cool taking down that curse?"

your eyes shift from the rocks to gojo’s face, “it was quite impressive how you were able to crush the curse with your infinity.” you have heard of stories of gojo’s strength, but seeing it with your very own eyes was truly incredible.

he preens under your praise, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"perhaps i deserve a reward," he suggests, his voice taking on a playful tone.

you entertain the idea, your curiosity piqued. "i suppose you do."

a deeper flush tinges gojo's cheeks, and he averts his gaze. without warning, he points at his cheek, anticipating something. you tilt your head, puzzled by his unspoken request. he keeps pointing to his cheek, poking it multiple times.

“…”

“give me a kiss!”

the water ripples with how fast you lean back, “huh? no way.”

undeterred, gojo shakes his head. "fine then. i guess i'll have to kiss you.”

your eyes widen as he leans closer, and you instinctively scoot away, surprised by his boldness. "what? no!"

“eh?! why not? i went total snowagumon on that curse!”

“that’s your job gojo,” you respond matter-of-factly. you’re a bit taken aback by his digimon reference. how dorky.

gojo clicks his tongue, feigning indignation as he looks away. “hmph. can’t even get appreciation for keeping the world in balance.” 

you let out a resigned sigh, realizing he's being dramatic again. it almost feels like dealing with a child. but you suppose you’ll play right into his hands this time– and this time only. he has worked hard on this mission, taking on all the work while you watch idly from the sidelines.

hesitantly, you inch closer towards his frame. the distance closes as you lean towards his face. it was only a split second, but your lips placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

you watch what once was a pink blush blossomed into something deeper. gojo sits up a little straighter and you notice how the corner of his lips are slightly upward.

“gojo, are you oka–” 

“satoru. call me satoru,” he interjected, sounding breathless, his eyes locking on yours. 

you look at him, uncertain. “isn’t that a bit too informal? we’ve only known each other for a couple of months.”

“if it was up to me, we’d be married by now,” satoru closes his eyes nonchalantly, sinking deeply into the water until half of his face is under. he blows a series of bubbles. he really was a child.

your laughter rings out melodiously as you throw your head back, finding his remark utterly amusing.  “you’re actually ridiculous.” 

satoru watches you with a soft smile, his heart feeling lighter. it was criminal how cute you were. if this was his reward for exorcizing a measly grade one curse, he was willing to wipe out all special grades on the earth just to receive your praise again. maybe next time you'll even kiss him on the lips (he'll die a happy man if that happens).

"i am, aren't i?" he muses, basking in the joy of the moment.

extra notes. i lowk hate this but due to popular demand i had to write it. ps i dont even know anything abt digimon i js know gojo likes it gn (forgive me if my digimon reference was totally wrong)

[pseudowho]

It wasn't the first time Kento had bought you flowers.

Your week had started badly, and as weeks which start badly often do, had the audacity to get worse. And worse. And worse. Kento watched it with the mute horror of a husband who could do little to intervene in the particular nature of ills the universe had decided to throw at you.

Sat on the sofa on Friday evening, your week finally dragged (kicking and screaming) to a close. You slumped against the cushions, having drowned your misery in most of a bottle of wine, and you sniffled, hiccupping.

Kento approached you with gentle caution; not because he couldn't manage your anxious, ill-tempered sniping at him. But rather, because he did not want to provoke a snipeshot, just to see you add a gut-chewing guilt to your list of misery, too.

"I just--" You sniffed, rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of one of Kento's old cardigans, "--I just wanna...get back to normal. Have an easy weekend. Bake...bake some bread, or...or something..."

Kento chuckled, sitting opposite you, and pulling your foot onto his lap to stroke it. His voice rumbled, good-humoured.

"Bake some bread?"

You giggled, which bubbled into a sob, lubricated by your wine. You pressed your head into the back of the sofa, slowly falling asleep to the feeling of his fingertips rolling sweet massages up your legs.

You felt Kento shift, climbing closer to bracket over you. You felt his nose, his breath, nudging the side of your head as if a cat. Your face crumpled into a frown, grumbling.

"...Kento...stop..."

"Time for bed, beautiful." Kento whispered against your hairline. "Come on."

You resisted, a paltry effort. You felt Kento's arms slip behind your knees, around your back, lifting you with a grunt, to cradle against him. Walking you to the bedroom, he kicked the door open with one bare foot, and slipped you into bed.

You dipped in and out of sleep, to clattering noises coming from the bathroom.

"Open up." You obeyed, and giggled to feel a toothbrush begin to swish around your mouth. Floppy and useless because Kento allowed you to be, you finally fell into a fractious sleep, disturbed by the traumas of the week you had left burning in your wake.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You woke, reluctantly, to the muffled slam of the front door. You predicted the next sounds in your sleep-addled state, and heard them in perfect order: keys hung up. Shoes kicked off, placed into the shoe rack. Kento clearing his throat. A coat hanging, and footsteps past your bedroom.

You rolled, sloppy, shuffling out of bed with a yawn.

Approaching the kitchen, you noticed a wooden palette on the kitchen counter, and frowned. Inside, in neat rows, lay bag after bag of carefully colour coded...something. You blinked, bleary, and Kento smiled at you as if you were a painted beauty.

He approached you, trailing fingers through your scruffled hair with a hum. His hand dipped down to your fingers, grasping them and bringing their knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

"Good morning, lover."

"Kento, what's..." You gestured to the palette.

Kento was tying an apron behind his waist, flicking through a recipe book with carefully colour-coded notation stickers. He looked up to you, and to the palette, his eyebrows raising for a moment.

"I bought you flours."

"...flowers?"

"No. I bought you flours."

You blinked once, confused. You rolled a bag, turgid and heavy in your hand, and felt the softground shift of the contents within, and it clicked.

"...flours." You sniffled, welling up. "You bought me...flours. Flours, for..."

Kento's smile softened, turning the honey in his eyes to melted gold as he cupped your face, stroking one stray tear away with a swiping thumb. He whispered.

"Flours. For bread."

Kento reached behind himself, his eyes still on you, and a giggle chirped through you again as he lowered an apron loop over your head, reaching around in an embrace to tie it behind your back.

Hours later, sampling different hot breads, oozing with melted butter, a white sheet had draped over the week you left behind you. You left whitedust handprints on Kento's bottom. He sliced wheatsheafs into dough.

It wasn't the last time Kento bought you flours.

(bonus points to anyone who can guess the movie reference)

[ilys00ga]

𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 1k

➞ synopsis: "yoongi and reader making a meal together for yoongi's parents" with a little bit of a domestic twist.

➞ genre: established relationship, husband!yoongi, dad!yoongi, just fluffy fluff fluff, they cook together, dad!yoongi, nothing goes wrong, dad!yoongi, just pure happiness, they also call it tooth-rotting fluff lol, did I mention: DAD!YOONGI ???, they have a babygirl uwu <33

➞ A/N: first off, thank u anon for sending me this super cute prompt, I loved it and had sm fun writing it!! second, EID MUBARAK TO MY FELLOW MUSLIMS OUT THEREEE <3 this is my lil gift for yall on this eid. it wasn't supposed to be this long tbh, and I haven't written anything for over a month, so, sorry if this is kind of messy and all over the place??? im trying to get my sht together again. but I really liked the prompt and!!! had to write it!!!! kkk enjoy bbys <3

ps. any form of feedback is reallyyyy appreciated. I live for compliments :) !

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It was one warm spring morning.

Yoongi was back from a long series of concerts just a couple of days ago. Grateful to be finally home with the two people that mean the absolute world to him. Your cat was purring on his chest as the two of you laid on the bed, enjoying the quiet of Saturday that had just begun, when his mother called to announce that, later that evening, she and his father would be coming over.

One thing led to another, and there you stood with your husband in the kitchen. One was chopping ingredients up by the stove, the other handling a mixer. Your two years old baby girl, Nara, was sitting in her high chair somewhere away from the oven and any other harmful thing. What used to be your favorite playlists playing ever so softly in the background as you fixed yourselves your favorite meals, together, was replaced with the mindless blabbering of your sweet baby girl instead, playing with the wooden spoon you had given her to play with some minutes before.

“Is this good?” Yoongi dipped the tip of his finger into the mixture he’s been working on, and carefully brought it up to your lips. You hummed in satisfaction as soon as the flavors hit your taste buds, a little bit taken aback at how he nailed your mother’s secret recipe only in the first try, “Great. You’re getting so good at this, Yoonie. I think you should take over kitchen duties very soon.”

He snorted, “If that means I’ll never have to do the laundry ever again, then sure.”

Feigning annoyance, you hissed at him, “You’re so lazy.”

“No one likes doing laundry, honey. Not even you.”

"You're so annoying."

Your daily bickering banters were disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing from the other room. He left to take the call, leaving you with your noisy little baby. The chef hat she had on her head–Yoongi's idea, by the way, along with the tiny apron she wore as well–was almost too big on her. It made her look a thousand times more adorable that you immediately started grinning and cooing when she looked up at you.

"And what about you chef? Are you having fun?"

She balled her fists up and raised them in the air, wiggling in her seat to let you know that she wanted to be picked up. Being the ever so whipped mom that you were, you scooped her up in your arms right away, and peppered kisses all over her chubby face. Her giggles seeped through your skin and locked into your bones, aching with a sickeningly utmost adoration.

“Mom said they’re almost here.” Said Yoongi upon entering the kitchen, putting his phone atop the table and smiling as soon as his eyes fell on the two of you—his girls.

“Are you being a good chef assistant, baby?” He cooed, kissing her cheek, then leaning in to leave a peck on your lips.

“She’s been blabbering her life off the whole time you were gone." you hummed.

“Mom is going to have a good time conversing with her this evening.”

“We’re almost done cooking now.” You reminded him, “Honey, check on the oven please.”

“Right.”

A wave of heat hit his face as soon as he opened the oven, but he smiled once he checked on the muffins, “they are done.”

When he took the tray out and swiftly put it on the counter, Nara erupted in a fit of loud blabber, flailing the arm that clutched on the wooden spoon in the air and almost smacking your face in the process.

It had your husband giggling, of course. He couldn’t help but join in and engage with her blather, how could he not when he got such an adorable chatterbox for a child? “Huh, Nini? The muffins are done! Yeah!”

He took her into his arms, allowing you to go check on the stewpot that was still boiling on the stove, before bringing her to have a look at the tray of the mouth watering muffins, and cheered, “look!”

Your heart, yet again, swooned, almost oozing out of your ribs with how tight your chest grew to be at the sound of your baby’s joyful squeals. She was all excited as her daddy showed her around the process of cooking the dinner for her grandparents.

Nara was having the time of her life. For some reason, she's always loved being in the kitchen. Yoongi once made a comment about her becoming a successful chef, which then turned into a long, heartwarming talk about your daughter and her future. The gentle smile Yoongi had on his face throughout that was one to die for, especially when he sulked about not wanting your babygirl to grow up. His pout was so intense, you ended up engulfing him in a bone crushing hug for almost half an hour.

It was moments like this one that you wished were pictures so you could cut them up and hide them. Somewhere deep inside your heart. Forever. That's how you often found yourself observing and admiring every single interaction your husband made with your baby, and that’s how you ended up listening attentively as he continued to talk so passionately and earnestly with her, while simultaneously attempting to work with his free arm to the best of his abilities.

She, at one point, got so ecstatic that she accidentally thrusted her arm forward and hit him in the face with that spoon. But he only turned to look at you with an affectionate smile.

Struggling through a fit of giggles, you slipped the wooden object from her grasp and gave her a big kiss; making sure to squish her doughy cheeks—a trait that she definitely got from her father, “No more hitting mama and papa for you!”

The little girl’s squeaks only got louder as she reached out with her arms towards you, addressing you with more words of her very own and special language.

“Family hug?” you asked, glancing at a grinning Yoongi.

“Family hug!” He wrapped his free arm around you, bringing your body closer so that Nara could get a hold of you as well, then added, “but let’s make it a short one or else my parents are going to come to a burnt dinner.”

[awkward-walking-potato]

Claws and Whiskers

Sequel - Claws paws and whiskers

What happens when you bring a cat home to logan.

wolverine x reader

My inbox is open to requests for any X-men

The day you brought the cat home, you weren't entirely sure how Logan would react. The little furball had shown up at your door one rainy afternoon, a scrappy-looking tabby with a fierce attitude and a pair of bright, defiant eyes. It reminded you of someone you knew all too well.

Logan was out when you arrived with the cat tucked into your jacket. As you dried the little creature off and set up a makeshift bed in the corner of the living room, you could already picture the scowl on his face. Logan wasn’t exactly known for being a cat person—or much of an animal person, for that matter.

When Logan finally walked through the door, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor, the cat immediately bolted under the couch, hissing as it went.

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the couch. “What the hell is that?”

“His name is Scratch,” you said, trying not to laugh at the irony of the situation. “I found him outside. He’s staying with us for a while.”

Logan crossed his arms, his expression dubious. “You sure that’s a good idea? Looks like he’s ready to tear my face off.”

“He’s just scared. Give him some time,” you said, moving closer to place a hand on Logan’s arm. “Besides, I think you two have more in common than you realize.”

Logan snorted, but didn’t argue. “Right. I’ll be in the garage if you need me. And try to keep that thing from scratching up my bike.”

The first few days were tense. Scratch seemed to go out of his way to avoid Logan, glaring at him from across the room or darting out of sight whenever Logan entered. Logan, for his part, gave the cat plenty of space, though you caught him grumbling under his breath more than once when Scratch knocked something over or decided to use the corner of the couch as a scratching post.

But despite their rocky start, you noticed small changes over time. Logan would leave the room with a plate of food, only to return later with the plate empty and Scratch sitting suspiciously close by. He started talking to the cat in his gruff, no-nonsense way, like he was trying to make a point about something important. And Scratch, ever the stubborn little creature, would sit there with his tail flicking, pretending not to care.

One evening, you came home late from work, exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. As you walked into the living room, you froze, the sight in front of you almost too good to be true.

There, on the sofa, Logan was stretched out with one arm draped over his eyes, fast asleep. And curled up on his chest, purring softly, was Scratch. The cat’s tiny body rose and fell with Logan’s steady breathing, his claws kneading gently against Logan’s shirt as if he had finally found a safe place to rest.

You couldn't help but smile as you quietly set your things down and moved closer. The sight of the two of them together—both tough and rough around the edges, but undeniably soft when it mattered—warmed your heart. You leaned down to brush a kiss against Logan’s forehead, careful not to disturb him.

Logan stirred slightly, his arm slipping from his eyes as he blinked up at you. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late,” you whispered back, your fingers running through his hair. “I see you two have made peace.”

Logan glanced down at the cat, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well… turns out he’s not so bad.”

You chuckled softly. “I knew you’d come around. You’re more alike than you think.”

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his hand coming up to gently scratch behind Scratch’s ears. The cat responded with a deep, contented purr, snuggling closer into Logan’s chest.

You watched them for a moment longer before straightening up. “Come on, let’s get you both to bed.”

“Nah,” Logan murmured, settling back into the couch. “We’re good here. You go ahead.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, leaning down to kiss him again, this time on the lips. “Goodnight, Logan. Goodnight, Scratch.”

As you walked down the hall to your bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Logan might have been tough as nails, with a lifetime of scars to prove it, but there was no denying the softness he kept hidden beneath all that gruff exterior. And Scratch—well, he was just a cat. But in some strange, wonderful way, he had managed to find a place in both your hearts.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that the three of you—claws, fangs, and all—were exactly where you were meant to be.

[holybibly]

Today's unholy hours, bunnies

"This is exactly what you wanted, doll. Isn't it? Just what you need. Am I right?" Yeosang whispered in your ear, his deep, husky voice sending a shiver down the length of your spine.

The sound of your soft, half-choked moaning rang out in the evening silence of the practically empty library. The corner behind the tall bookshelves provided enough privacy for the two of you at this late hour, hiding you from the staff and other students who might accidentally wander into the most remote section of the Ancient Korean Literature section.

Yeosang's sneering laugh is accompanied by a particularly hard thrust of his hips while his cold, hard hands press you more firmly against the wooden table.

"And what? I'm not going to get a single sarcastic comment from you to answer that, bunny? The cat's got your tongue."

Any attempt at a reply or contradiction is cut short by the powerful, deep thrusts of Yeosang's hips as he drives his thick, wiry cock deeper into your screaming, needy cunt. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that it practically knocked all the air out of your lungs.

You hated him. You hated him so fucking much, but the feeling was stronger than you. Yeosang was making you crazy, and trying to deny feeling attracted to him was just stupid.

You wanted to turn away from the wicked, sneering grin on the handsome blond sempai's face, but he wouldn't let you. Yoe kept your fierce, defiant gaze on his angelic face, digging his fingers into your soft cheek and covering your mouth with his palm, so that you could barely breathe, choking on your own moans as Yeosang continued to fuck you mercilessly.

"Such obedience; I like you much more like this, doll~"

Your hands clutched at his shirt, crumpling the once perfectly ironed fabric, your nails scratching across his collarbones and the bulging muscles of his chest, leaving bright red scratches on his skin, when you rolled your eyes at the feeling of the orgasm that was about to come. Fuck, it was too good to be true, and you knew full well that you'd be kicking yourself for it afterwards, but fuck, Yeosang was fucking divine.

Who would have thought that your angelic sempai, Kang Yeosang, could be a real freak in bed?

You couldn't even make a sound of protest—just a whimper as he slowed his movements, denying you pleasure for the third time today. Fucking bastard. Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you squirmed in your seat, letting out a muffled, frustrated moan that was too loud, even though Yeosang was still covering your mouth with his hand. The sharp sensation of your orgasm slowly began to fade into a small, pulsating stream of pleasure.

You were so wet you were probably sitting in a puddle of your own slime, judging by the nasty squelching sound you heard when Yeosang's cock was halfway out of your cunt. The amusement that danced in his foxy hazel eyes was so obvious and only grew as you raised your tearful puppy eyes up to him, and your coarseness and defiance dissolved into a silent plea for him to finally let you cum.

"Oh, wilful little slut wants to cum? Not such a cheeky little thing anymore, Y/N, eh? I told you to be quiet, doll. If you want to finally come on my cock, be quiet; otherwise, I'll be the one who cum tonight." That's how deep and sultry his voice was; it was just illegal. How could you resist him?

You nod desperately at what he says, and Yeosang responds by smiling smugly. The sweet expression on his face hides his sinister intentions as he begins to move again, this time with an even harder and more brutal thrust. His taut balls slap against your pussy with each rhythmic movement, and you bite his hand, causing the handsome sempai to hiss slightly in pain.

"You little bitch..." Yeosang hissed, changing the angle of his movements so that the head of his thick cock was now hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, and this time he had no intention of stopping.

You tensed, feeling the almost painful throbbing of your approaching orgasm, your eyes rolling back as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over you, shaking you to the core. For all your hatred of Yeosang, it was worth it. His cock was made of fucking gold.

His moans were barely audible as you clenched around his cock, his warm, thick seed staining the walls of your womb, and your pussy seemed to pull him even deeper in and hold him there, clinging tightly to the velvety length of his cock. All your senses were overloaded with pleasure, and every heavy sigh and every growling wheeze that Yeosang emitted seemed to prolong your orgasm, driving you deeper and deeper into a state of euphoria until you felt no connection to your body and black dots began to dance before your eyes.

When you finally managed to regain consciousness, you were lying on his lap, and your clothes had been returned to the tidy state they had been in before. You looked lazily around, still feeling heavy and unable to move. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as your still slightly unfocused gaze fell on the book in his hand.

"Are you serious, Yeosang? Classical poetry? You've just fucked my brains out, and you're still behave yourself like a good boy? Of course, the exemplary sempai, Kang Yeosang."

"Ah, now that cheeky mouth of yours is back again. I guess you haven't learned your lesson, doll; you have to be quiet in the library."

[m4rv3l-girl]

“You Made a List?” - (Knife Play)

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N made an interesting to-do list, Bucky wants to tick them all off..

Requests Open!

Warnings: Smut. Knife play. Blood.

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed in the quiet apartment he shared with Y/N. The room was a stark contrast to his tumultuous past; white walls, a simple wooden bedframe, and a single framed picture of them together on a shelf. He stared at the floor, his mind racing with the day's events. He had been out on patrol, a routine mission that had ended with him saving a cat from a tree. A small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it brought him back to the comfort of their shared space.

Y/N walked in, her hair still damp from a recent shower, a towel wrapped around her body. She noticed the tension in Bucky's shoulders and the furrow in his brow. "Rough day?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness.

Bucky looked up and offered a forced smile. "It's nothing," he said, not meeting her eyes. He didn't want to burden her with his past, not when they had worked so hard to build their life together. But she knew him too well.

She saw right through the facade and moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Her touch was electric, grounding him in the present. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of her hand seep into his skin. "I found something," he began, his voice low and tentative. He reached under the bed and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Her eyes widened as she recognized her own handwriting. "Oh, that," she said, her cheeks flushing pink. "It's just a little list I made, you know, for fun." The words 'Things to try in the bedroom' were scribbled across the top in a playful scrawl.

“You made a list?” He mused. Scanning the items, his eyebrow raising at each suggestion. "Knife play," he read out loud, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "That's the first one?"

Y/N looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, it's not like we're going to try all of them in one go," she said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "I was just….curious"

Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. When he found none, only excitement and trust, he felt his own anxieties dissipate. He had faced worse than knives in his life; this was a game they could play together, safely. "Alright," he said, setting the list on the bed. "But I'm stopping if I think you don’t like it.."

Y/N leaned in, her damp hair leaving a trail of coolness against his cheek as she whispered, "You’ll do it?”

The air grew thick with anticipation as they prepared for their evening adventure. Bucky's heart raced in a way it hadn't in a long time, not from fear or battle, but from the thrill of exploring something new with the woman he loved. As they moved closer, the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of their shared space and the promise of an exciting night ahead.

Bucky pulled out a velvet-covered box from his nightstand, Y/N’s cheeks still flushed. Inside was an impressive assortment of knives, each one meticulously chosen for their varying sizes and shapes. They were not the weapons of war he was accustomed to, but tools of passion - items he had collected for enjoyment not for use in combat.

He picked one out, the metal cool and smooth in his hand. The blade glinted under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement.

He turned to Y/N, who had dried off and donned a silk robe that clung to her curves. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation. He gave her a reassuring nod, and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she felt the tension in the room shift. He approached her, the knife held delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

Tracing the line of the knife along the edge of her jaw, he watched as her eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

His touch was feather-light, a stark contrast to the cold steel. He moved down her neck, the blade barely grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Each stroke was precise, calculated, as if he were mapping out the landscape of her body with the sharp tip.

Her heart thumped in her chest, the rhythm echoing in her ears. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he whispered, "You're sure?" Y/N nodded, the anticipation building like a crescendo. Bucky continued, the knife moving in a gentle pattern down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts, her body responding to his every move with a symphony of goosebumps.

With the utmost care, he slipped the knife between her robe and her skin, the cold metal pressing against her hardening nipple, drawing out a soft whimper. He watched her closely, reading her reactions like a book.

When she didn’t flinch, he began to feel more at ease.

He knew he could trust her, and she knew she could trust him. They had been through so much together, and this was just another chapter in their story – one of exploration and growth.

He continued to trace her body with the knife, the sensation both thrilling and terrifying. But with each pass, the fear melted away, leaving only desire in its wake. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that coiled around them, tightening with every shallow breath she took.

Y/N’s eyes remained closed, lost in the sensation of Bucky’s gentle touch. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a dance of control and vulnerability that brought them closer together. The coolness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat building between them, and she felt every inch of her skin come alive.

As the tip of the knife circled her navel, she gasped, the sensation shooting straight to her core.

Bucky paused, looking for her consent. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, nodding again. He continued, the knife gliding over her hips, her stomach, each movement a silent promise of what was to come.

When the tip of the metal finally slipped past her pubic bone, it grazed the sensitive peak of her clit, she inhaled sharply.

The feeling was indescribable, a mix of excitement and trepidation that had her body trembling. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, as he began to carefully stroke her with the cold blade. The pressure was just right, not too much, but enough to send waves of pleasure rushing through her.

Her knees grew weak, and she reached out to grip the edge of the bed for support. Bucky noticed her reaction, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her vulnerability. He stroked her clit in a slow, deliberate motion, the knife serving as an extension of his touch. The metal was cold against her hot, wet skin, sending shivers through her body that only heightened her sensitivity.

"Sit still," he murmured, his voice gruff with need. "I don't want to hurt you."

Y/N whined softly, her body straining against the delicious torment he was inflicting. The combination of fear and pleasure was intoxicating, a heady cocktail that had her teetering on the edge. She knew Bucky would never harm her, but the thrill of the knife’s serrated edge up against her delicate flesh was undeniable.

Bucky watched her closely, his own need growing with each gasp she made. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the way her nipples pebbled against the silk of her robe. He knew she was close, so he decided to give her what she wanted – a little more. He teased her clit with the blade, moving it in a slow, up and down motion that had her hips bucking and her breath coming in ragged pants.

Her eyes snapped open, and she met his gaze, pleading for more.

He could see the desire in her eyes, the impatience warring with the fear. With a smirk, he flipped the knife in his hand, the handle now pointing upward. He held it out to her, the metal slick with her arousal. "Suck it," he ordered, his voice low and firm.

Y/N took the handle into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his and she moaned around it as she took it deep. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrist, guiding him as she sucked and licked, her tongue swirling around the handle. Bucky's grip tightened, his own excitement growing as he felt her mouth enveloping the knife.

When he was satisfied with her preparation, he slowly removed the handle from her mouth and brought it back down to her clit, now slick with her juices and her own saliva. He teased her again, the wetness from her mouth adding to the sensitivity. She was panting now, her body begging for release.

"Bucky, please," she whimpered, her grip on the bed tightening.

With a wicked smile, he positioned the handle at her entrance, the metal cool and hard against her heat.

Y/N took a sharp breath as Bucky pushed the handle of the knife slowly inside her. It filled her in a way that was both strange and incredibly erotic. She felt stretched, the sensation of cold steel penetrating her, and she knew that he could feel her tightness around it.

Bucky's eyes never left hers as he began to move the handle in and out, his movements deliberate and controlled. The coldness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat of their shared desire, and she could feel her body begin to adapt to the intrusion. It was a delicate dance of pain and pleasure, each thrust bringing her closer to the precipice she desperately sought.

Her breath grew ragged, her moans muffled by the fabric of her robe as she bit down on the material. She could feel the knot in her stomach loosening, the tension building as he fucked her with the handle. His hand was steady, his gaze intense, as if he was watching for any sign that she needed him to stop.

But she didn't.

Instead, she pushed back against him, her body begging for more.

The sound of the knife handle sliding in and out of her filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to their harsh breaths. Each thrust was a silent declaration of their love and trust, a testament to the bond they shared. Y/N could feel herself losing control, her hips moving in time with his hand, her body straining for release.

Bucky's eyes never left hers, his pupils dilated with desire. He watched her face contort in pleasure, the way her mouth opened in silent screams, and he knew she was close. He increased his pace, the slickness of her arousal making the handle glide in and out with ease.

She was so wet, so ready for him, and the thought sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin.

With a final, desperate thrust, she shattered around the handle, her orgasm ripping through her body like a supernova. Her nails dug into the bed, her back arched, and she cried out, her voice hoarse and raw. "Such a pretty slut, doll," Bucky murmured, his voice thick with approval. He watched her ride the wave, her body quivering with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Y/N's eyes flew open, meeting his gaze as she came down from her peak.

She felt a flush of pride at his words, her heart racing with a mix of love and lust. He had called her that before, but tonight, it felt different. It was as if he were praising her in the most erotic way for trusting him, for letting go of her inhibitions. She knew he meant it as a term of endearment, a declaration of his admiration for her openness.

Y/N nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Yes, I want-…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "What do you want me to do?"

The words came out before she could even think them through. "Carve your initials into me," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I want to carry a piece of you with me."

Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt.

When he found none, he took the knife in his hand, his movements deliberate and precise. He leaned over and kissed her softly, his breath mingling with hers. "Where?" he asked roughly, his voice thick with anticipation.

"My thigh," she murmured, pointing to the spot she had chosen. It was a place she could easily hide if needed, but also somewhere she could see every day, a constant reminder of this night.

With a deep breath and a moment of contemplation, Bucky took the knife and pressed the tip to her skin. “Tell me to stop, Doll.” He pleaded feeling a depraved arousal at this.

“Don’t you dare.” She stated.

She felt the pinprick of pain as the metal broke through the surface, a sharp contrast to the gentle kisses he peppered along her neck. He began to trace the first letter, the 'J', his hand steady despite the tremor that had taken hold of his body.

The cut of the knife peircing through her skin was faint but distinct, a testament to his skill and control.

The pain grew more intense as he moved on to the 'B', the sensation of the blade carving through her flesh sending another shockwave of pleasure through her.

She bit her lip, her eyes watering as she watched him, his focus unwavering. When he reached the 'B', she felt the sting of the blade a bit deeper, and she couldn't help but gasp.

Immediately, Bucky's mouth was on the wound, his tongue darting out to lick away the bead of blood that had formed. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent her spiraling into another orgasm. In an unexpected throb of agony and ecstasy, her thigh muscle clenched repeatedly under his ministrations.

He kissed the spot tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the initials 'J.B.B' began to take shape on her skin, she felt a sense of belonging, a mark of ownership that she craved. She knew that she had just given him a piece of herself, and that he had accepted it, claimed it even, was intoxicating.

When he was done, he pulled away, his eyes searching hers for any signs of regret. But all he saw was a look of pure, unadulterated bliss. He couldn’t believe the trust she had in him, the willingness she had to submit to his desires.

It was a heady feeling, one that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time.

They sat there for a moment, their bodies entwined, the room silent except for the sound of their ragged breaths. Then, Bucky leaned in and kissed her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. This was their secret, their shared moment of power and passion, and it bound them together in a way that nothing else could.

The night was still young, and they a few long hours ahead of them. But for now, they basked in the afterglow of their first successful experiment, their hearts racing in sync, their bodies craving more. They were a team, united in their love and their desire to explore the boundaries of their relationship.

And as Bucky held her, feeling the pulse of her blood beneath his fingertips, he knew that no matter where the night took them, they would face it together, unshackled by fear or doubt. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

——————————————————————————————————

Part 2 - (Temperature Play)

——————————————————————————————————So, what did you guys think? Your comments really help me to cater my writing to what you enjoy! 🫶

[v1x3n]

S T E R E O T Y P I C A L

simon 'ghost' riley x reader ⸝⸝ navigation

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺����𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : a serial killer haunts your town, but unfortunately for you there had to be one classic dumb, hot girl!

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : angst (?) - serial killer, stupid moves that would piss you off, subtle pantie stealing, knocked out.

you saw the news, all the stories online, you saw how everyone in the uk were panicked at the unknown serial killer going around. missing people rocked up dead, all around where you lived. your town was scared shitless.

you were scared, everyone had their doors and windows constantly locked. no one was out on the streets due to fear, the wind whistled and the town was near silent. weapons were handed out, you gripped hard onto a knife as you hear a loud bang outside. peaking through the window just to see your neighbours cat rummaging through a fallen bin. you groan and quickly look along to street, you knew it was a stupid move but you unlocked the front door.

stupid pretty girl move in a horror movie, right?

you tip toe outside, knife still held tight in your hand and you run over to grab the kitty. she meows and licks your fingers, you kiss the top of her head, "what you doing out here" grumbling to the cat, stomping back over to the house. stepping back inside and slamming the door back into place. plopping the kittycat onto the wooden floors so you could lock the door, "cmon baby" you coo and bend down to pet the cat. "ill get you some food, hm?" lightly walking into your kitchen.

opening up your fridge and pulling out some chicken from last night, you pull out a few pieces, placing them onto a plate and putting said plate onto the floor. clinking the side of the dish so the fluffy cat came running.

the cute little kitty was your neighbours cat, oreo, black and white little thing. her fur was fluffy and soft, slightly damp currently due to it rummaging through all the bins in the street and other shenanigans she would get up too. she was very cuddly and loved you, she constantly showed up at your door or in your garden, at your window.

you look over at the cat and smile at her chomping away, grabbing a small bowl and filling it up with cold water. placing it beside her.

sighing whilst looking through your kitchen window, glancing at the cat and you let out a second sigh. looking down at the the phone you pulled from your pocket. it was midnight, time for bed i guess.

soon you make sure the kitty is okay before heading upstairs. an eyebrow raises as you have a bad feeling deep in your stomach as you step through your bedroom door. peaking in and letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

walking back to your bed and grabbing the clothes you had scrupled up on your bed to take downstairs after your shower. the cute jeans, the small tank top, your scratty bra you needed to replace andd... your panties. which were misplaced. odd.

you look around your room, maybe you had dropped them? but after you check, nothing. you sigh, okay, that's fine. you're clumsy and had better things on your mind right now, you probably put them somewhere else whilst thinking of that psycho. yeah, thats sounds like you.

trotting back downstairs with your dirty washing in hand, oreo screeches. "hey hey, what's wrong " you mutter and bend over to pick up the kitty. cuddling her in your arms, walking through the kitchen to put away the clothes. you plop them in the washing machine and pepper the top of the cats head with kisses. "big scaredy cat, ain't ya?" cooing at the kitty , turning your eyes over to the living room before you started walking back in. "cmon kitty kitty" you softly say, your eyes look up at the front door. wait. you could've sworn you locked the door. the wooden door peaked up, a gust of air slipping through the slip in the door. you drop the cat, quickly looking down to see if the cat was okay - she was, so your eyes so back to the door. you quickly slam it shut, locking it up once more.

"hello?" you call out, stupid move. a creaking sounded from your stairs while you carefully step up them. water fills your eyes and you grab your phone, it dropping instantly to the floor as you jump, the sound of a deep booming voice pops out from behind you, "hello sweeth'art" you turn around and you sniffle, going to step back but the man steps forward you, "don't be scared" he mockenly coos.

you take a good look at the man, a scary mask plastered on his face and his whole body covered in black. fuck, he was big though. muscles making the dirty clothes almost rip, the only piece of skin showing was his eyes, gorgeous light brown eyes that stared into your soul. his pupils dialated at the sight of the poor girl, crying in front of him. so so scared. you peer down at his hand as it raises towards you, making you flinch back and run up the stairs. quickly sprinting to your room and slamming the door shut. looking down at your hand to see that, fuck, you dropped your phone. slight banging could be heard from outside, it was probably just him walking, he was fucking humongous. "hide and seek? fun" he chuckles, grabbing a lamp he found from a table in the hallway. he knocks your door and you scramble to the corner of the room, tears flow uncontrollably from your tear ducts.

after moments of silence, he jolts the door and it creaks open, you knew you should've gotten more locks. you sob in the corner as his shoes step forward.you meet eyes with him - sight trailing down to the lamp in his hand. he instantly sees you cuddled up in the corner, crying your eyes out. "love, divnt cry, to pretty f' tha'" he steps forward once more until eventually he was in front of you, he kneels down. you push your face away from him, "look at me, hun"

you sniffle once more and your fingers clench onto the ground below you. the masked man grabs your chin and forced you to look up at him, "gorgoeus thing" he hums.

"you know what?"

"w-what" you whisper.

"yer a doll, might keep you." was all you could hear before an object, the lamp, hits the side of your head. effectively knocking you out - your body slumps to the side.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Hitchhiker || Chapter Seventeen || The Proxies

tw: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. breeding kink

<— previous chapter

Tim blinked slowly, taking a deep breath as he gained consciousness. His vision was blurry, his breath jagged and shallow as he attempted to inhale. A sharp pain rose in his chest as he did so, a grunt falling off of his lips. As his vision settled he went to sit up, ignoring the overly blinding lights. “Slow down,” Jacks voice ordered, the demons large hands grabbing his shoulders firmly. He guided Tim to lay back down, his chest aching as he did so. “Y-you look like shit,” Toby’s voice commented. Tim blinked a few times, his hazy vision settling as he looked over at the youngest proxy.

“What’s the verdict doc?” Tim huffed, ignoring Toby’s comment. Jack swung his examination lamp away from Tim, allowing the brunette to see better. “Cat Hunter’s claws dug into a good layer of your muscle. Luckily for you he didn’t make it past your ribcage,” Jack explained. Tim gritted his teeth as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Meaning what?” He asked. Jack tilted his head to the side curiously. “Meaning none of your organs were affected. They’re still as edible as can be,” Jack quipped, sarcasm lacing his words. Tim looked down at his chest, thick bandages wrapped around his torso. “Toby pack your shit. We have to find Y/n and Hoodie,” He grunted, attempting to get up again. Jack and Toby exchanged looks, before returning their sights back to Tim.

“Tim relax, everything is fine.”

“Relax? That Cat fuck is still out there and so is my girl you dipshit. Toby get moving-”

Jacks harsh voice cut him off before he could ramble orders any further, “Cat Hunter is dead. She killed him.”

Tim felt his blood run cold. “S-she what?” He stuttered. He looked at Toby for confirmation, as if Jack was playing some sick joke. Toby gave him a confirming nod. Many thoughts swirled around Tim’s head. “B-beheaded h-h-him,” Toby elaborated, his neck twitching profusely to the left side. Tim’s eyes widened, his brain racking itself. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it. “Where is she?” Tim asked, throwing the lousy sheet that covered his lower half off of him. He was silently grateful he was still in jeans. “Upstairs with Nova. Brian’s watching them,” Jack said, attempting to comfort him with his words. He watched as Tim hissed in pain, forcing himself to sit up and get off of the cot.

“Tim I cannot advise you to be moving around like this. You need to lay down,” Jack told him. Tim clenched his jaw, his head pounding as he stood on his feet. “Like hell I will. She needs me,” He grunted. Toby attempted to block the stairway, his arms spread wide. “T-Tim you n-need to s-s-sit down,” He protested. Tim shoved his arm away, trudging past him. “And you need to get the hell out of my way kid,” He argued, forcing himself up the stairs. He gripped the hand rail for support, grunting in pain as he hoisted himself up. The brunette forced himself onto the main floor, his eyes scanning the room for you. “Brian? Where the hell is she?” Tim called out, his voice echoing off of the wooden walls. Brian rushed down the stairs, grabbing Tim’s arm and throwing it around his shoulders. “Tim? What the hell are you doing up?” He questioned.

Tim guided him to the staircase, the pair walking up the stairs to the bedrooms. “I need to see her. How is she?” He asked. Brian bit the inside of his cheek. “Truthfully? She’s torn up. Hasn’t left the bed she’s in. Won’t say much. Won’t eat,” He explained. They made it to the top of the stairs, Tim shoving Brian’s arm off. “Is anyone with her?” Tim questioned. They stood outside of the guest bedroom door, Tim leaning against the wall for support. “Nova is,” Brian answered. The brunette clenched his jaw. “Tell her she needs to step out,” He said. Brian raised his eyebrows. “Step out? And do what? She almost lost function in her goddamn fingers,” He protested. Tim narrowed his eyes, shooting him a dirty look. “She can go ride Jacks dick for all I care. I need a moment alone with Y/n,” Tim huffed. Brian frowned, pushing past him and opening the door.

You were facing the window, Nova facing the opposite direction. You both were lying in the bed, the room completely silent even upon the boys entry. Nova’s eyes were empty, blankly staring at the wooden wall in front of her. Heavy bags hung under her eyes, her fingers completely bandaged. They appeared to be blood soaked, Tim now trying to conceal his distaste for the sight. “Cmon Nova you need to get your bandages changed, EJ’s in the lab downstairs,” Brian said, cocking his head towards the door. What was failed to be mentioned to Tim, was the guilt Brian and Hoodie felt. Brian was a walking bag of guilt, constantly monitoring you out of fear he wasn’t taking care of you enough. He never wanted that for you, no matter how much Hoodie thought it was better for Cat Hunter to be dead. For an innocent like you to be on the other end of the hatchet made him sick to his stomach. His goal was always to protect you, not to turn you into a killer.

However Brian wasn’t good with his words, unsure of what to say to you. Especially after everything was all said and done. Instead he watched over you silently, trying to get you to eat and bathe like a normal human being. Nova emotionlessly slid out of bed, her lips cracked and bleeding from the harsh weather and being stuck together for so long. She mindlessly wondered past Tim and Brian, heading down the stairs obediently. Tim gave his partner a nod, slipping into the room. Once he heard the click of the door shutting, it took everything in him to not throw himself at you. “Princess? It’s me,” Tim said. He approached your side of the bed, your expression almost mirroring Nova’s. That is, if it weren’t for your puffy eyes and red face. The dry splatters of Cat Hunter’s blood still stained your cheeks, the crimson paint now a dried brown.

Your eyes met his, your orbs glassy and filled with sorrow. You threw the blanket off of you, throwing your arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” You mumbled into his shoulder, nuzzling yourself into his neck. Tim’s face scrunched up in pain, the brunette using all of the strength he had left to conceal painful noises that threatened to claw their way out of his throat. “Me? I’m glad you’re okay,” Tim replied, emphasizing his worry about you and you alone. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. Your hair was unbrushed and unkept. You knew you looked like shit, but Tim seemed to see right through it. He slowly pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. “When I was lying in the snow, watching you run off, do you know what I thought to myself?” He asked you softly. You blinked as you looked up at him, your emotions running so high you didn’t notice your waterline flooding with tears.

“I thought I was dying and all I could think about was how I never got to tell you that I love you. And I do. I really fuckin do,” Tim said. The salty tears escaped your waterline, traveling down your cheeks. Tim wiped them away with his thumbs. “Tim-” You started, at a loss for words. He placed his thumb over your lips, stopping you. “Dont. Don’t say anything. You don’t have to say it back. I just have to let you know. I love you,” He whispered. He stroked your cheeks with his thumbs lovingly, admiring you as he looked down at you. Unsurely you brought yourself closer to him, your eyes fluttering shut as you planted your lips on his. Tim never thought of himself to be a greedy man. He never thought he’d allow himself to have you. But Tim realized he would gladly earn the title of the greediest man alive if he allowed himself to have you. All of you.

He kissed you back passionately, his hands lowering themselves to your hips. He pulled you closer, ignoring the pain that throbbed in his chest as he pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, combing your fingers through his hair as you kissed him deeper. You rolled your hips against his, the brunette groaning in your mouth. “I usually take the lead during things like this princess,” Tim said, his lips refusing to stray from his. You swallowed his words eagerly, grinding down against him. “I don’t think you’re in any condition to,” You countered. You softly pushed him back on the bed, his back hitting the mattress as you shoved your shirt over your head. Tim’s pupils became blown with lust at the sight of your bare breast, your nipples growing perky from the cold air.

“Fuck me,” He mumbled, forcing himself to sit up. He brought his mouth to your left breast, sucking on your nipple. You rolled your hips against his, letting out a desperate moan as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud. He brought his hand to your right breast, prodding its nipple with his index and middle finger. “Fuck, Tim,” You moaned, a wet patch forming in your panties. Tim looked up at you, admiring your face as you moaned his name. He released your nipple with a pop, flipping the two of you around. He bit back a painful grunt, determined to ignore the pain in his chest. He lowered himself onto his knees, grabbing the hem of your oversized sweatpants. “You have no idea how long i’ve waited to hear you moan my name,” He confessed, pulling your pants and panties down in one swift motion. He lazily tossed them aside, spread your thighs apart with his large hands.

“Tim, please, please make me feel good. I need you,” You whined, bucking your hips upwards. Tim smirked at your pleas. “Whatever my princess wants, my princess gets,” He purred in response. He kissed your inner thighs, watching you paw at his head to come closer. Your fingers found their way in his hair, tugging him towards you. He licked a stripe up your slick, causing you to moan. Tim wrapped his arms around your hips, holding you against the bed as he attached his lips to your clit. “Fuck!” You groaned, grinding your hips against his face as best as you could under his strong grasp. His tongue was merciless, teasing your hole and flicking at your clit with ease. Your juices coated his chin, decorating the stubble that rubbed against your folds.

“Tim! So good. Feels so good. Holy fuck,” You moaned. Teasingly he grazed his teeth over your clit, causing your legs to shake under his hold. You felt a familiar knot form in your stomach, your thighs shaking against his head. He continued to lap at your cunt like a starved man, your orgasm threatening to crash down over you. “Tim i’m gonna fuckin cum, gonna cum,” You babbled. Tim held you down into the bed, forcing you to stay still as you rode out your orgasm. You moaned his name as you came against his tongue, your heart pounding as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You look so beautiful when you cum for me,” Tim praised, emerging from between your thighs. He struggled to stand, grabbing at his bandages as he joined you on the bed.

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to do this,” You say, trying to catch your breath as he laid down beside you. Tim grabbed you by your waist, hoisting you over him. “You have no idea how long i’ve waited to get this view. I can handle it,” Tim debated. You rolled your hips against his aching cock, the tough jean fabric brushing your swollen clit. “Then lay back and relax,” You say, fiddling with his belt. You both pulled down his pants and boxers as quickly as possible, before you aligned yourself with his cock. You slowly lowered your body on his cock, whimpering as you felt yourself stretch out to accommodate his size. “So fucking tight, fuck princess,” Tim groaned, his large hands settling on your waist. He guided you to go down lower, watching as you bit your lower lip.

“Taking me so well,” Tim praised, watching your cunt eagerly swallow his cock. Once you were full sunken on his cock you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. You whimpered in his mouth as he guided your hips to move, his cock brushing right against your g spot. Ever so slowly you began to ride him faster, leaning back to gain more momentum. To Tim you were a goddess, your tits bouncing and head tilted back. It didn’t matter that you were on top. Tim and his large hands guiding your hips had the real power. He began to fuck up into you, his fingers digging into your skin. “Such a tight pussy, fucking hell,” Tim grunted, watching you cling to his cock with every thrust. You tried to keep up with his thrust, the cord inside of your stomach tightening again. “Feel so good Tim. So so good,” You whined. You brought your hand to your clit, drawing fast circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“That’s right princess play with your clit. You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good girl,” Tim huffed. Any pain he felt in his chest was overridden by the pleasure your gummy walls provided. He watched mesmerized as your cunt clung to his cock, milking him for every drop of his cum. His thrust were merciless, abusing your cunt as he pleased. “I’m gonna cum, Tim, i’m gonna fucking cum,” You whimpered, your body so close to the edge. He gripped your skin harder, desperate to bring you to your orgasm. “Go on. Cum on my cock. Need you empty so I can fill you up,” Tim huffed. He felt your walls flutter around him at his words, his eyes widening. “You like that? You wanna have my kids? You filthy girl,” He chuckled darkly. You met his lustful gaze, whimpering. “Yes Tim, wanna have your kids,” You whined.

Tim pounded into you ruthlessly, finally bringing you to your orgasm. “So then cum princess,” He barked. His command made your body shake, your thighs trembling as you creamed around his cock. Euphoria washed over you, your heart pounding in your chest. With a few more thrust Tim was right after you, cumming deep inside of you. His warm seed flooded your cunt, filling you to the brim. You collapsed on top of him, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. He placed a kiss on your forehead, your curious eyes meeting his.

“Wanna go for round two?”

—> next chapter

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

So much planning

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Fyodor Dostoevsky

Description: Dazai and Fyodor still don't get along. But they have few things in common. Both are genius. Both have twisted morals. And both will turn to dust anyone, who dared to hurt you.

Warning: OOC. Mewing Dazai. Fyodor sings lullaby to reader. Nightmares. Slight religious fanaticism. People threw rocks at Reader, Neuvillette do some damage on Reader. English is my second language.

"SINNER!"

A rock was thrown at you. You tried to dodge, but braces on your legs and rope around your neck, that was tied to a wooden post. The rock hit your shoulder. You can't even scream or beg. A metal construction in your mouth won't let you close your mouth, or make any sort of sound.

"MONSTER!"

Another rock was thrown at you. This one hit your chest.

You were cold. You were freezing. The rugs they forced you to wear couldn't stand against Shezhnaya's wind and snow.

"PAY WITH YOUR BLOOD!"

More and more rocks were thrown at your direction. And you can't do anything to stop them.

Yet, you knew, that they won't let you die now.

Not for the next week.

Each day, you will be transported to a different city. And, starting from dusk to dawn, you were chained in the main square. And people were taking their anger out on you.

You were in Snezhnaya today.

Six more cities left.

Six more days before your execution.

Your life will end before Creator's eyes.

________

You woke up, sobbing. You blinked your tears away and look around. You were home. In your room. Not in Teyvat.

You took a quick glance at the clock.

11:00 pm.

You went to bed 30 minutes ago.

You put your head back on the pillow, trying to fall asleep again. And then you heard it.

"Meow"

You sat up on your bed.

"Meow"

You looked down.

You saw Dazai.

He sat on the floor, before your bed. He put elbows on your bed, resting his chin on his hands.

Dazai looked... soft. He had a small smile on his face. His eyes sparkled.

And you saw, that he was worried.

Dazai meowed again.

"Meow."

You can't help, but smile. Back then, before you... were transported in... Teyvat, you jokingly called Dazai a cat. Because every time he had a smile or a grin on his face, he looked like he would start meowing.

Dazai remembered that.

That's why, after every time you had a nightmare about Teyvat, Dazai, among other things, would meow, to make you feel better.

Meanwhile, Dazai put his face closer to yours and rub his nose against yours.

"Mrrrrp."

You laughed quietly, raising your arm. You scratch Dazai behind the ear. He started purring.

"You knew, that you shouldn't do the cat act, right?" ask you. Dazai hummed.

"I want to do that. It makes you happy." Dazai pet you on a head. "Want some company?"

You shifted a little, making some space for Dazai. You were sleepy. You lay your head back on your pillow and close your eyes.

Through sleep, you felt, how someone lay down next to you. A familiar scent of almond, rum and cherry filled your nose. Dazai firmly pressed you against his chest. You felt safer. Safe enough, to try to go back to sleep again.

______

Dazai was listening to your breathing. You didn't have a new nightmare. For now. Dazai hopped, that it will stay this way. Still, he won't bet too much on it.

The door to your room was opened again. Dazai didn't turn his head. He knew who it was.

Without saying a word, Dazai pressed you harder against his chest and carefully moved, changing your position with his.

Now, his chest was touching your back. Now, there was an empty spot near you on your bed.

Fyodor carefully lay down next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

They didn't talk.

For now, they were making sure, that you are okay.

"General nightmare. Didn't remember someone in particular." Dazai squeezed your hand. Fyodor slowly played with your hair.

"Panic attack?"

Dazai shook his head.

"No. Just startled."

Fyodor nodded.

"Good. At least, it is something."

Fyodor and Dazai became quiet again.

Dazai broke silence again.

"Others?"

Fyodor hugged you, scooting closer to you.

"Want revenge."

Dazai looked at you with pity.

"Nikolai?" whispered Dazai, listening to you breathing.

Fyodor closed his eyes.

"Still blames himself."

Fyodor and Dazai became silent again.

Despite working together to get to the real world, they still weren't friends. They do play chess together, or have overcomplicated games in their own minds, but, they won't call each other friends.

But, there was one exception.

You.

For you, they were ready to go beyond any possible goals.

All you need to do is ask. And Fyodor and Dazai will make a plan.

But, even their combined intelligence weren't enough to find you, during the month you were missing.

And their emotions went awry, when they saw you on the barn's floor.

Beaten. Tortured. Bloody.

Dazai's eyes shrank, looking somewhere in the distance. The scenes, of what he will do with people, who dared to hurt you, flash before his eyes.

"So. What should we do next?"

Fyodor's gaze was heavy. Similar thought of future massacre flooded his thoughts.

"Let's discuss some ideas. There is so much planning to do."

_________

You can't breathe.

Your heart was beating heavily, your lungs were burning, your legs refused to move.

But you can't stop. You must run.

Or he will get you.

The storm was at its peak.

Rain water greedily licked your skin. Each drop felt like lava.

The river was close. Its waters looked like they were boiling. You jumped on the first wet stone. On the second. On the third.

And your leg slipped.

Immediately, hydro energy curled around your feet, dragging you underwater.

You managed to hold your breath right before waves closed above your head.

*****

It was a torture.

Hydro dragon was playing with you.

Letting you go, letting you breathe in some treasured air. Before dragging you back underwater.

You lost the number of times you almost drowned. You only tried to grab something, that let you stay above water.

Finally, Neuvillette got tired of this game. He dragged you on the riverbank. Right to his feet.

A pair of hands... No... Draconic hands grabbed your shoulders. Sharp claws sank into them, drawing blood. You screamed, when Neuvillette moved his arms to make you stand.

Your vision was blurry. Yet, you manage to make out a pair of draconic eyes and abnormally sharp teeth.

Neuvillette put his face closer to yours.

"Got you, dirty sinner."

Sharp teeth chomped on your left ear.

Your screams and draconic satisfied rumble mixed together.

You were in pain.

Neuvillette spit something on the ground.

You tried not to look at what remains of your ear.

Neuvillette put his face closer to your second ear.

You closed your eyes. You didn't want to look.

You didn't notice a familiar girl, who was running towards you two. She was accompanied by melusines.

Before Neuvillette can tear your second ear off, Furina plunge her sword in his side.

Draconic roar made you stumble back. Falling into the river.

The last thing you saw were Furina and melusines fighting with Neuvillette.

________

You were sobbing.

Your blood was boiling.

You wanted to scream. To run. To hide.

You tried to touch your shoulders and left ear, to call for Furina and melusines. To do anything.

The hand was placed on the top of your head.

And familiar voice start singing.

Fyodor was singing.

"Котя, котенька-коток,

Котя — серенький хвосток!

Приди, котик, ночевать...

И [Т/И] качать,"

You blinked your tears away. You felt, how Dazai embrace became tighter. He started running his fingers up and down your arm.

Fyodor rubbed your tears away.

"Уж я котеньке-коту,

За работу заплачу:

Дам кусочек пирога

И кувшинчик молока."

You didn't want to protest. You didn't care, that you are too old for lullabies. You wanted some comfort. Some stability. Feel safe.

Fyodor put his chin on the top of your head.

"Платок беленький свяжу

И на шейку повяжу;

Шубку новую куплю

И сапожки закажу.¹"

You hide your face in the crook of Fyodor's neck. Dazai's forehead pressed against the back of your neck. You were warm. You yawn.

When Fyodor finished with this lullaby, he started a new one. Then another. And another.

Until you fall asleep.

*****

You were sleeping soundly for two hours now. Fyodor and Dazai weren't sleeping. They choose to look over you tonight.

And, in the dark of the night, they were planning.

Planning a revenge on people of Teyvat.

And on someone, named Neuvillette, whose name you screamed in your last nightmare.

Dazai looked Fyodor in the eyes.

Brown eyes met purple eyes.

"Vampire outbreak."

"Economy crisis."

"Arahabaki and Demonic Beast Guivre"

"Cannibalism"

"Lovecraft"

"Spare someone?"

"Only if Iris Flower want it."

"No letting Myshonok near portal or Teyvat."

"Not even the smallest glances."

Word after word.

Slowly, the plan of Teyvat's destruction will be finished.

For now, they will simply exchange some ideas. And make sure, that you are safe.

______

1. Russian lullaby.

Kitty, kitty-cat,

Kitty - gray tail!

Come, cat, spend the night,

Rock [Y/N]

Kitty, kitty-cat,

I will pay for your work:

I'll give you a piece of the pie

And a jug of milk.

I will knit you white scarf

And I’ll tie it around your neck;

I'll buy you a new fur coat

And I'll order you boots."

******

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - minors/ageless dni i will block you. yami sukehiro x f!noble reader. oral sex (m&f implied), inexperienced but ambitious reader, slight age gap (yami is early 30’s, reader is mid 20’s) implied.

“Knew I’d find you here, kid.”

Your primly crossed ankles dangle off of the edge of the bed, hands resting atop your knees, and you turn to Yami with the prettiest snarl he has ever seen etched into your face.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? You aren’t that much older than me.”

Closing the wooden door behind him, he chuckles and slowly unbuckles his belt with one hand, letting the leather and pouch attached to it fall to the ground with an unceremonious clang. His katana rests in his other hand, given the reverence of being placed on the small desk in the corner of the otherwise unimpressive space.

It’s certainly nothing compared to your quarters at home. You imagine Yami sandwiched between your crisp, perfect linen sheets in all of his oversized glory, wiping your release off of his lips using the gauzy fabric of your canopy. A chill zips down your spine, you play it off by shifting your hips and raising a brow.

The quiet while he goes through the motions unnerves you slightly. Silence indicates comfort and that has never been part of the deal for either of you. This is fun for him, something you graciously allow him to have at your expense. For you, it’s simply a tutorial on how to be a good wife.

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself every time you hear the utterance of his name and decide to press your luck by showing up at this same old inn in the same old room the two of you have now darkened more times than you can count.

“You’re not a kid, no.” He confirms, brow raised to mirror yours, shuffling with his thighs slightly spread while unlacing the ties keeping his pants closed. This mountain of a man looms and you glance up at him over the curve of his impressively defined chest, equally curious and afraid of what he’ll say next. “But compared to me? You’re nothing but green.”

The lack of elegance elicits an eye roll from you though your eyes still and quickly to fall at where his hands are working, thick fingers teasing you with every movement. You haven’t yet reached this intimacy with him yet, instead being treated to lessons in how a man should make you feel with his mouth and fingers and by allowing you to grind against the corded muscle of his thigh. Yami has seen you completely nude, spread and wet and ready for him.

Now it’s your turn.

Blood pounds in your ears, cheeks warming at the sight of the coarse hair growing just below the waistband of his pants. You swallow, hands pressed to your knees, glancing up at him with those eyes that remind him you are both cat and mouse in your own game.

Mouse for obvious reasons, even beyond the sweet way you squeak when enough pressure builds between your thighs and in your stomach that you drench his knuckles. Cat because you keep tempting him just the same, a predator beckoning toward him sweetness that could eventually be his undoing. It’s not his problem either way, he chides himself internally.

Besides, you are positively mousy right now, eyes wide as the moon outside the one window in this room while glancing at his now visible cock. The man can’t be sure what you were expecting but he has a feeling it may have been slightly less than what he’s working with, his half hardened girth bouncing against his palm as it fills with blood.

“Now tell me, little girl,” he smirks down at you, erection still bouncing against his palm, tilting his hips near your face. “When’s the last time you played with a toy like this?”

A dark chuckle sends another shiver down your spine, the head of his cock waving antagonistically near your mouth and cheek. Your body is practically screaming at you to act, to touch him or run your tongue along that slit that looks so enticing, but your pride prevents it. You remain sitting primly, glancing at Yami for some kind of hint about how to proceed next.

Your cheeks burn with arousal and embarrassment, ashamed of your own immaturity when faced with this situation. This is why you’re here, you remind yourself. To learn and figure out how to avoid this ever happening.

“Judging by that quiet mouth I have to guess, hm, never.” Laughing at his own joke, he wraps his fist around the shaft of his cock and points it toward your mouth, brushing the head against the seam of your lips. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I’m not judging you. Just teachin’ you, right?”

Cheeks still burning, you scoff yet tilt yourself forward enough that his cock touches your mouth. A moan escapes before you can swallow it and you let your eyes flutter shut, keeping unshed tears from escaping and running down your face. He’d find that too rich and you won’t give him the satisfaction.

You are childish and immature and stupid and…the voice in your head clears, another filling your ears and telling you what to do.

“Stick just the tip of your tongue out for me.” It’s Yami, clearly bent at the waist and hovering just above your ear, gravelly voice replacing your own mocking internal monologue. “Just a little. You could keep your eyes shut but they’re too pretty for that and I wanna see ‘em.”

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile. Your lashes flutter open and hazel eyes gaze into your own, pupils dilated.

“There we go. Tongue out for me, run it along the tip.” He instructs and you follow, eyes glued to him the entire time. A groan in his throat causes one in you, a breathy whine not even a partially opened mouth can obscure.

He reaches to cup your cheek, rough thumb running over the roundest part of it, entire hand sliding downward until it clutches your jaw. The touch is gentle and you relax beneath his fingers, jaw unclenching. A smirk is your reward, his other hand tapping the head of his cock against the tip of your tongue.

“I hope you’re ready to learn a thing or two tonight because I plan on keeping you busy.”

You nod, now kitten licking him of your own volition. You’ve always been praised for your ability to pick up on most anything quickly and tonight will be no exception if you have anything to do with it.

[autumnheartsprice]

john price who knows a thing or two about taming brats like you.

(brat taming, crying, praise yet degradation, submission, you get the hint)

MDNI

getting called to price's office felt like hell on earth, one simple text during a training with gaz left you practically shaking in your boots for the rest of the day.

"my office. 10pm."

you tried to push it into the back of your mind and continue with gaz, but after continuous mess ups and unwise moves, gaz ended the session for the day. you couldn't decide if that was for the worst or best. it was only 2pm, 8 more hours to go until meeting him. why so anxious? you did nothing wrong..

well, besides the fact that a harsh comment towards soap left ghost seeking answers with price. it was a bad timing really, the whole morning went to shit and right after getting told "you look like an easy fuck" by some annoying recruit, soap decided to be all touchy and annoying like his usual self. you never did truly mind it, but it was just such the wrong timing.

"can you get the fuck off of me already? nobody needs you touching them 24/7 while yapping their ear off." you snap at him, the words leaving your mouth before you get the chance to even think about it. by the time you can even open your mouth to mutter an apology, soap has already walked away like a dog with its tail in-between its legs after being scolded. you watch as soap found his way to ghost, who is already staring at you from across the room. fucking hell.

you arrive at price's office at 9:58, too scared of being late but too scared to walk in early. you pace back and forth by his door, trying to calm your nerves. the hallways were empty now, everyone already in bed and most lights dimmed by now. by the time you check your watch again, it's ten seconds past 10:00. you quietly press your knuckles against his wooden door a few times before entering, alerting him of your presence.

price is sat behind his desk, smoking one of his cigars while looking through a folder. he doesn't look at you while you enter, you close the door behind you and stand there, not knowing what to do next. your eyes watch as he pulls his cigar away from his lips and soon blows out a puff of smoke. "lock the door and come here." he finally says, his voice a bit raspy and tired. you follow his directions and lock the door behind you, slowly taking your time to recollect yourself before padding over to his desk. you stand at the edge of his desk, watching as he continues looking over the folder and taking another drag of his cigar. he moves to close the folder and place it in one of his drawers, then closing it and pushing his chair back a bit to turn and look at you.

"snapping people's heads off now? telling the sergeant that he 'doesn't need to be touching people and yapping their ear off', as i do recall? snapping at the sergeant who's helped you god knows how many times and helped you rise up, just for you to say shit like that? want to explain that to me?" price sternly says, his eyes focused on your tense form as he starts to take another drag. you can't help but swallow the nervous forming lump in your throat and begin to fumble with your hands in front of you. your mouth opens to speak, but words fail to come out, leaving you speechless in front of him. "cat got your tongue all of a sudden? you had plenty to say earlier, 'cause that little incident of yours wasn't the first i heard about today." price grumbles out, very clearly not too happy about it now. you didn't have a reasonable explanation behind it, what were you supposed to say besides the fact you just had a bad morning?

"i'm sorry.. i didn't purposely mean to do it.." you quietly mumbled, barely audible enough for him to hear. he looks up at you, raising one of his brows as to silently question if that's all you got. as he continues staring at you, he sees that he's not going to get anything else out of you. "c'mere. and don't make me repeat myself." he grumbles, pushing his chair back a little bit more and pointing towards the edge of his desk. you take the few steps forward to reach to him before standing in front of him, your ass pressing against the edge of his desk before he places a hand on your hip and forces you to turn around. you hear the creek of his chair as he stands up, the hair on your arms start to stand up. you feel a large, warm hand find it's place on your lower back, before slowly pushing it forward, bending you over his desk. you feel his hips press against your ass as he leans forward over you, his lips pressed against your ear.

"you know what i do to bratty girls, don't you?"

you slowly nod your head, being a victim of one too many of his punishments already, although that never soothes your nerves of what's to come. he puts his cigar down and puts it out in his ashtray before slowly running his hands down the small of your back, pressing tenderly onto your spine at some points. his hands come running back down to your hips, rubbing the waistline of your pants before dipping a few fingers under the fabric to feel your soft skin. you whimper under the feeling of his hands slowly caressing your skin, he grabs the skin on the back of your neck and scruffs you as a result. "quiet." he spits out, pushing your face into the wood of his desk. you wiggle your hips, trying to get comfortable as the edge of the desk digs into your skin. "you know what happens every time and you still decide to act up. fucking filthy brat shouldn't even deserve my touch." he huffs under his breath, your cheeks start to heat up and turn a slight tint of pink out of embarrassment. he gives your ass a light and quick swat, causing you to suddenly jolt forward. he grabs a handful of your ass in a warning, causing you to settle.

he wraps his fingers around your waistband and reaches to the front to unbutton your pants before roughly yanking them down, your skin suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room. a shiver runs through your spine and he can't help but tsk at your reaction. you hear him rustle behind you before a large palm strikes at your ass, causing you to whine at the sudden pain. "you'll take what i give you until i decide when to stop, no counting. you'll use your safe word if you need it. do you understand me, girl?" he rasps out, grabbing a handful of hair and turning your head to press your cheek against the desk now. you quickly nod in response, causing another firm slap on your ass. "use your words, sergeant." he adds. he kneads the soft flesh of your ass as a warning. "i understand, sir.." you mumble out, trying not to whimper at his touch of my reddening ass.

he hums in approval, before striking your ass again. his spanks start off slow and methodical, then fast and hard. whimpers turned into moans, then weak and pained mewls. you clawed at his desk, only leaving for him to pull your hands behind your back and hold them there with one hand. "captain.. i'm sorry.. please, i didn't mean to upset anybody.. i'll apologize to soap, i swear.." you rasp out, voice becoming tired after constant use. his spanks become more harsh, silently telling you that your begging wasn't good enough to make up for your attitude.

you can't help the tears that start to brim your eyes, the pain becoming too much to bear and overstimulating. the amount was coming up near 25 at this point and it started to burn like hell. small tears started to roll down your cheeks, before turning into big fat ones that led to a sob escaping your lips.

this made price stop and begin to massage your skin for a little bit as you continued to cry. "shh baby.. it's okay, just a few more.. you're doing so good for me, hm? such a good girl, taking your punishment so well. what's your color, sweet girl?" he soothes you. his voice was much softer before, and he runs a soft hand along your back while continuing to massage your skin. "g-green.." you manage to mutter out. price hums in acknowledgement, letting you both recollect yourselves for a few moments as he continues to run a gentle hand along your back.

a sharp hiss escapes your lips at the sudden slap, only eagering him to continue. your fallen tears start to create a puddle underneath your face and onto the desk, yet it couldn't stop the growing arousal in your exposed panties. he continues to grope your ass before letting his palm fall against your skin. his touch was more soothing this time, but his spanks were much harder. the continuous enslaughter to your already stinging ass made you whine even more. you can feel his bulge up against your hip as he presses into your side, feeling the thickness of his hard-on even while he's fully dressed.

it felt like forever until his spanking stopped; one last slap on your right cheek ended it all, leaving you a breathless and crying mess on his desk. his palm removes itself from your ass, moving his hand to massage your hips. "shh.. shh, girl.. you're alright.." he whispers. your small cries fill the room as he attempts to soothe you, hoping his light touch will at least make up for it.

he reaches down and opens one of the drawers of his desk, fumbling through his very organized section and finding a soothing lotion. he gives the lotion a quick shake, having not used it since your last punishment, and opens the cap. he squirts a small amount of lotion into his palm and rubs his hands together to spread it before lathering it onto your ass. your body jolted at the sudden cold touch, a whimper leaving your lips. "hey, hey.. it's okay, my love.. 's just lotion to make it feel all better, okay?" he apologies, trying to apply it more carefully to not set you off. he takes a good few moments massaging and prepping your skin with love and care, even bending down to leave a light kiss on your left cheek.

he comforts you as you lie on his desk, ass red and exposed in front of him. he slowly picks you up, an arm behind your knees and back as he sits down in his chair and puts you on his lap. he hears a small whine leave your lips, and a small frown forms in his lips. "i'm sorry lovie.. c'mere.." he whispers, pulling a strand of hair behind your ears before pulling you closer.

you feel your body almost melt into his, the warmth and calming scent soothing your senses. the room is filled with a comfortable silence, only occasional sniffles being heard. "i'll apologize to Soap and Ghost, i promise.. i'm sorry for being bad.." you mumble into his neck, soft breath falling onto his skin.

it doesn't take long for a finger to hook under your chin and bring it up, forcing you to look up at him. "my love, you are not 'bad'.. thank you for saying you'll apologize to them but don't think for a second that you're bad or anything. you're still my good girl no matter what, okay?" he firmly says, leaving no room for doubt. a soft finger wipes away your remaining tears.

you slowly nod, mumbling a small "okay" in acknowledgement. price didn't think you listened to his words enough, not believing you truly took it to heart.

he pulls your face closer before pressing a soft, yet passionate and meaningful kiss on your lips. "my good girl." he says, breath against your lips.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Solace

I finished my Reader x Rengoku fic! it’s also on Ao3, but here it is if you prefer to read it here!

(Rengoku x AFAB reader, canon divergent- Akaza doesn’t show up at the end of Mugen Train and Rengoku returns home to you. Mainly smut and fluff.)

Minors DNI

Kyojuro is never quiet when coming home from missions.

In combat, the man moves with stealth and graceful speed which could put even the sneakiest alley cat to shame. But returning in the dim light before dawn, excited and elated simply to be back with you, he bounds toward you with a broad, effusive grin.

“I’m back!” he declares, as though his footsteps didn’t just shake you from the bed.

But you can’t find it within yourself to be annoyed at him for waking you. Ever.

It doesn’t matter that it’s hours before you’re due to rise, or that he and his crow probably woke the whole village on their return. Before you know it, your smile is mirroring his, and you’re crushed to him, not knowing who closed the space between you first. You breathe in the scent of battle and dwindling smoke, and the familiar comforting warmth of him.

Your fingers press to his back, sliding up towards his shoulders, your heart squeezing with the relief that he’s home. He won the battle. He survived.

Strong, sturdy, and real beneath your hands. And yours, entirely.

You could cry; the lump in your throat dangerously close to choking you, but tears would only make him worry. So you press your face to his chest, letting him hold you, rocking you from side to side as he rests his cheek on the top of your head.

You breathe in his scent again and let out a sigh. "Do you want to go and tell Senjuro and your father you're back? Senjuro was so worried."

"In a little while," he says, tightening his hold on you. "My father usually wakes after sunrise."

You can't help but smile. He’s all yours, at least for a while.

“How was it?” you ask, muffled in his embrace.

“Hm?”

You pull your face away to let your voice carry to him fully. “How was the mission? The demon on the train?”

“Ah. Good.” He smiles, raising a battle-hardened hand to gently stroke your cheek. The intensity in his fiery gaze softens as he acclimates to the safety of your shared home. “We prevailed. But it took far too long.”

“Agreed. You were gone for more than two months.” You lean into his touch. And, knowing thanks to his hashira stamina, it’s likely untrue, you add, “You must be exhausted. We could go back to bed for a while?”

He chuckles softly, catching the meaning behind your seemingly innocent words. “I should clean up first. I’m sure I smell less than—”

His sentence dies against your lips as you pull him to you, unable to delay what you’ve been craving for months. And after a muffled chuckle of surprise, he reciprocates the kiss.

Kyojuro kisses like he fights; with every damn fiber of his being, burning you up as he drives you backward, pressing you to the wooden frame of the door and pinning you to it with his body. At once, you’re lost to the world, and all that matters is his lips, his fingers tangled in your hair, and his muscled thigh pressing between yours. Your body reacts to him so quickly you become lightheaded; heat pooling everywhere he touches.

Yours. He’s yours. And he’s home.

A sigh escapes you as he takes your hand in his, and pins your wrist to the door frame above your head.

You could list a thousand reasons you love this man, and one of them is the way he can snap in an instant from dazzling light and exuberant warmth, to an altogether more blistering, primal sort of flame. And you have always reveled in that blaze.

You slide down a couple of inches, pressing your core to the sturdy length of his thigh as you tug his lower lip between your teeth. A quiet groan escapes him, those gold and crimson eyes of his half-lidded as he drops his hand to the opening of your robe.

Kyojuro can– and has– spent all night undressing you and letting your excitement build before granting you release after release. And every time you’ve basked in that drawn out pleasure, trusting him entirely as you do, that the delay will be more than worth the reward. But not tonight. Not after two lonely months of nothing but your hands on your cunt, and gasping his name into the pillow.

“Kyojuro,” you whisper, parting the robe yourself until your breasts are exposed. “Please.”

“You’re so eager this morning,” he says, keeping his breath and voice so level you’d almost think your exposed skin wasn’t affecting him.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” His lips part as he cups your breast, stroking a calloused thumb over your nipple. “If I’m honest, I spent a lot of time thinking about you. About this.”

Pride and pleasure blossom in your chest and snatch your breath, earning you a chuckle. He drops his hand lower, dipping it between the pillowy softness of your thighs.

Where it stays.

Firmly.

“Patience, Little Flame,” he tells you as he takes his thigh from between yours, leaving your pussy aching and wanting. “Let me clean up. I want to be the best I can be for you.”

God, this man. Even after being denied you by duty, he still relishes every second with you, drawing it out and savoring it. You may as well weigh less than a feather as he scoops you into his arms, putting his strength and training to use as he whisks you away to the wisteria-guarded private hot spring at the back of your house; another perk of living with a hashira.

He sets you on the wooden boards at the side of the steaming water, stepping away to leave nothing but the cool morning air to caress your burning skin.

“Let me bathe first,” he tells you, unfastening the cape from his shoulders and folding it carefully beside you.

You’re about to protest that he doesn’t have to; you’ll gladly take him smelling of smoke and spattered with demon blood, but Kyojuro is ever the gentleman. And besides, as his strong fingers begin to work open the buttons on his corps uniform, any protest you can conjure simply collides with your pounding heart and withdraws, defeated.

Because as beautiful as Kyojuro is in his uniform, covered entirely and bursting with pride, he’s somehow even more beautiful out of it. His body is sculpted by discipline, battle, and a love for food; strong, sturdy, soft and firm all at once. Every scar and bruise which marks his skin has no doubt served as a lesson; a reminder of how he could have reacted faster, fought better, improved somehow (and it’s Kyojuro, so of course, next time he will).

The sun breaks over the horizon, casting beams of golden light through the wisteria blossoms as he sets his uniform neatly on top of the cape beside you.

“Are you getting in?” he asks, stepping into the water until it reaches his hips. He turns to face you. “Or are you content with watching me?”

Your face prickles, surely as red as the tips of his hair as he grins and waits for your response. And thank God for the wisteria, hiding you from prying eyes as you sit, bare chested and flustered on the warm, smooth wood, fighting the urge to put your hand between your thighs and finish what you started against the door frame.

He seems to sense it too, his gaze dropping lower, to the epicenter of your aching desire. And for the first time since he got home, you notice his breath hitching in his throat as he wades toward you, placing his wet hands at either side of your knees and pushing them together, pressing a kiss to the seam of your thighs.

His eyelids close as he rests his forehead on your lap, his breath hot against your skin as your mouth becomes dry with anticipation and need. But he simply stays there, breathing you in, and, if he’s feeling at all the way you are right now, torturing you both.

Placing a hand on the back of his head you let it sink into soft golden hair and stroke down the back of his neck, enamored with the way he melts against you as you do.

“There were moments…” He’s quiet when he speaks, so quiet it worries you.

He turns his head to the side, eyes still closed as he rests his cheek against the pillow of your thighs, still holding them together.

“Moments?” you say, hoping to clarify. Your hand delves lower, into the firm valley between his shoulder blades. The corner of his mouth rises into a contented smile. You can spend every waking moment touching Kyojuro and he will never get tired of it. Fortunately, neither will you.

“Moments during the mission… when I was afraid I would not make it back to you this time.”

“Oh—” You snap your lips shut, pressing your unoccupied hand to them to ensure their silence. A weight in your chest presses against your ribs; the agonizing knowledge that this man you adore with every cell in your body feared for his life.

You can’t tell him that you imagine that very thing every time the kasugai crow summons him. Every time you awaken to find he didn’t return while you slept. Every time the sun rises and stains the morning sky red.

And no matter how blissful the time you spend together, no matter how bound to his soul you find yours, the fact will always remain that demon slayers rarely live long lives. To love a hashira, is to welcome death to loom above your happiness.

But you know Kyojuro well enough to know there’s nothing you can say to make him quit the corps. You'd have as much success telling him to walk away from you, or asking the moon to come down from the sky. Nothing can quell those twin flames burning in his heart; one for you, the other his duty to lend his strength to those who need it. Even in a world without demons, he would find some way to fight to protect the helpless.

“I believe in you,” you say, truthfully. Even if your heart torments you with thoughts that one day his crow will return without him, you have never doubted his strength or indomitable spirit. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

"Thank you," he says, with heart-shattering sincerity.

In an instant his hands are on the boards beside your thighs, his arms taut and arrow-straight beneath him as he lifts himself partway out of the water until his lips are level with yours.

"I should be thanking you," you tease, hoping to lighten the mood and help him forget the fear. "You're putting on such a pretty show for me."

Loud laughter bursts from him, and God, it feels so good to see him happy and carefree. It warms your heart to know that you can give him that solace, this man who fights and faces death for people who don’t even know he exists.

“I need you,” he says with a smile, leaning into you and snatching your breath with a kiss before drawing back. “ Your belief, your strength, your warmth. I need you. In every way.”

You can't stand it anymore. Cupping his jaw in your palm you lean closer, bringing your lips tantalizingly close. "Hurry up and bathe, Kyojuro. I'll make certain those needs are met."

He laughs again, although this time quieter, holding your gaze as he lowers himself back into the water. “Beloved, when have I ever allowed you to meet my needs without ensuring yours are satisfied first?”

His touch sparks embers across your skin as his strong fingers skate between your thighs, finally allowing you to part them. You spread wide for him, letting him see you fully, knowing that you’re already wet, glistening with need.

“Mm,” he sighs hungrily, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue.

He draws closer as you fight for breath, running your fingers through his fiery mane as you lean back and angle your hips toward him.

The wisteria blooms sway in the breeze as your skin pebbles.

Kyojuro begins as he always does, by kissing a path along your inner thighs, snatching the air from your lungs as your anticipation builds. He nuzzles the soft flesh of your pussy with the tip of his nose, and when his lips finally reach your core, he tastes you slowly, eyes closed and face perfectly serene. And he savors you.

He drags his tongue over your tingling flesh, tasting every bit of you and sighing softly as you gasp and buck your hips beneath him.

But soon, any semblance of hashira discipline crumbles as he grows drunk on you. His hands skate over your thighs, hooking behind your knees to lift your legs onto his broad shoulders. And you know you’re done for.

Kyojuro relishes you like you’re his last meal, his tongue voraciously lapping your clit until your fingers in his hair curl into fists.

Afterall, he never knows when he’ll be called away from you. So he makes it count.

It’s no secret the flame hashira loves to eat, and being his favorite meal is pleasure like you've never known. You gasp as he presses his tongue to your entrance, licking a stripe through your labia to your clit, before surrounding it with the wet heat of his eager mouth. His tongue flutters against you; insatiable, skilled, and hellbent on driving you to climax.

"Kyojuro!" You cry out as your trembling legs wrap around his back, holding him to you.

That earns you an appreciative groan before the wet sound of his mouth on you fills the air once more. Your back arches as he pushes a thick finger into you, stroking you inside as he continues to devour your cunt.

His gentle moans vibrate against your clit as he licks and licks, and he whispers a reverent, "Delicious."

His approval drives you wild, lifting your hips to grind your pussy against his face as shivers of pleasure roll through you, driving you closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy.

“M–more…” you whimper.

Far be it from him to deny you.

You gasp as he slides another finger into you, his other hand spreading your folds so he can lick you harder, deeper, while sucking your clit as though it sustains him.

You come undone with a cry, legs trembling against his back as your fists unfurl to press his face into your pussy. You know he adores this, when your control fully snaps and he knows he has done well, that eager mouth still working you. He groans as your pussy throbs and pulses against his tongue, squeezing his fingers as they continue to pump into you, emerging only so he can put them into his mouth and taste you again.

“Umai,” he whispers, smiling as you lay shattered and delirious with pleasure beside the hot spring.

You chuckle as you ride the ebbing waves of your orgasm, vaguely aware of the flame hashira climbing out of the water and wrapping you in his arms. Before you know it you're inside, lying on the bed.

"Are you ready, Little Flame, or do you need more time to recover?"

You shake your head, gazing at him as he positions himself between your thighs. His broad, muscled chest is flushed pink with a combination of warm water and arousal.

He'll wait as long as it takes if you need it, but there's no denying his excitement. He holds his cock firmly in his strong, scarred hand, gently sliding his thumb through beads of clear precum weeping from the slit. He shivers as he gazes down at your semi-naked body, teeth tugging his lower lip.

God, there's so much you want to do to this man, but if the world is kind, you'll have time for that later. Right now you need his cock inside you. You need simple intimacy, his body against yours.

"Now," you tell him. "I need you now."

You gasp as he slides his dick between your folds, coating it in your slick wetness before teasing your entrance with his tip. And when he enters you, there's no resistance; you're already so wet and ready for him. His back arches as you take him all, your bodies slotting together as though you were made with each other in mind.

For every hour Kyojuro has spent studying flame breathing, he's dedicated the same to studying you. He’s noted your reactions every time you’ve been together this way, memorizing exactly where to touch you, the speed you like best, the pressure, the intensity.  When Kyojuro fucks you, it's an art form, and he’ll spend all day dedicated to it if you let him.

That's when it becomes apparent that those muscles aren't just for show. The control he has over his body is almost supernatural, rolling his hips against you, making sure that with every stroke your pleasure builds so that all that's left for you to do is...

"Breathe," he tells you, as if he isn't the one driving the air from your lungs.

But you try, for him. You try your damned hardest, fingers pressed to his shoulders as you pull in a breath.

"That's it," he sighs against your ear. "Good. So good."

Your face grows hotter. "Is it good for... ohh God."

Kyojuro’s lips part around a silent gasp as he pushes deep into you and your body shivers beneath him. Sparks of pleasure shoot through your lower belly as he thrusts. Your grip on his shoulders slides to his broad chest and around his back, pulling him to you. He yields to you without resistance, closing the space between you until his body is flush with yours; hot and heavy, pressing you into the mattress as he kisses your throat.

"Is it good for you?" You continue, not because there’s any doubt, but because his praise and approval only adds to your pleasure.

He knows it too. "So good, Little Flame. You're taking me so well."

You could spend eternity with Kyojuro and never stop craving him.

Basking in the soft warmth of your cunt, his throat flexes as he parts his lips around a desperate whimper, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds his hips against yours. Tingling heat builds between your thighs as he pumps his cock into you, arching forward to suck your nipple between his lips, strumming it with his tongue.

And you know too well he’s holding back. Kyojuro won’t come like this; he’ll have you on top bouncing on his cock when he’s good and ready for that. No, this is for you, and it doesn’t matter how long it takes; the hashira’s stamina is apparently limitless. But his cool is most definitely crumbling. And when he gets excited he gets loud. Every thrust is punctuated by a desperate moan, the feral sound of it making your toes curl.

“So warm, and wet for me,” he practically growls into your ear as he grinds his hips against your clit. ”I was away for too long. I wanted you so badly. I couldn’t take care of you like I wanted to, but I’m making up for it now, aren’t I?”

You cry out in pleasure as his movements become deeper and more urgent, “Yes.”

“My Little Flame,” he whispers. “All mine.”

Your second orgasm spills through you like molten iron as you cling to him, riding the waves of your release.

“That’s it,” he whispers as you shiver beneath him. “Oh, god, that’s it, that’s it. That’s my girl.”

This man. This man and his damned mouth. You’re no sooner back on earth than you’re craving him again, pushing against the firm wall of his chest and angling your hips to roll onto him. He picks up on your cue immediately, pulling his cock out of you and flipping the pair of you over.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his breath coming in short, sharp pants just for a moment or two before he reins it back. “I can keep making you come until you’re fully satisfied.”

“I am satisfied. And I want you to come,” you tell him, lowering yourself onto his dick. Your head tilts back involuntarily as you take him once more.

As you start to ride him, his amber eyes are trained on you, awestruck as his hands grip your hips, not guiding your pace (he's completely at your mercy in that regard) but holding on to you as though he's afraid you'll somehow slip away from him.

You may not be able to fight away the demons which threaten to hurt him or the horrors those eyes have witnessed. You may not be able to expunge every worry and burden from his life like you want to. But you can give him this. You can give him solace in simple pleasure.

And, if you’re honest, there’s something about watching this man melt beneath you. There’s nothing like seeing your powerful, indomitable warrior reduced to a whimpering wreck as he loses himself in you. It’s a power which only serves to heighten your pleasure.

"I thought about this every night," you tell him. "About riding you like this and watching you come undone."

His throat flexes as he swallows, his gaze following the movement of your chest as you bounce on his cock. There's no doubt he's enjoying the view, but it's impossible to resist doubling over to kiss him, letting him moan against your lips as you slowly rock on top of him. Your heart squeezes with the knowledge that you’re making him feel good, that right now, he’s content and safe and gasping with pleasure because of you.

This is one of the few times Kyojuro is lost for words, but words are unnecessary. You know how good it feels from the pink tinge on his cheeks and blossoming over his chest, from the way he loses the battle to keep his eyes open, closing them and throwing his head back to moan as his fingers dig into your hips. You know he’s close from the way he arches his back, lifting his hips so he can thrust into you as his grip on control slips entirely.

You know all this because he is yours.

“I’m going to come–” he whimpers, his golden irises barely more than a sliver beneath his heavy eyelids. His breath blows hot and hard against your skin as his body undulates beneath you.

When he comes, it’s with a cry, thrusting up into you so hard it forces the air from your lungs, his grip on your hips so tight it will surely leave bruises. And you ride him throughout, driving him into over-stimulation as the sounds of his pleasure fill the room. All that power, all that strength and firm muscle quivers beneath you but you know him well enough to know not to stop.

You ride him as he bares his teeth. “Yes. That’s it. One more,” he whispers, taking your hands in his and pulling you down to his lips. “I know you have one more for me.”

He places his hand between you, sliding it down your body until his fingers brush your clit, sliding through the warm concoction of his spend and your wetness. He teases your swollen flesh, the blush on his cheeks growing darker still as you continue to grind against his overstimulated cock. Your legs burn, your pussy aches. But God, you need this, you need him. It doesn't matter that you’re spent and more than satisfied. You need more, more, more, the two of you trying desperately to claw all the pleasure you can from a world which demands so much sacrifice.

Your orgasm tears through you quickly, your exhausted body giving you just enough pleasure to earn rest for both of you.

He holds you. His lips are cool against your burning cheeks, showering you with gentle kisses as his hands stroke lazy paths along your back.

You lie atop him, ear pressed to his chest as his heart beats against you; steady, constant, and yours. There’s so much you need to tell him, and he already knows all of it. You love him, you missed him, you hope his kasugai crow never calls. You hope that one day you’ll see that golden hair of his turn silver and that his smile will never fade as he reminisces about the days gone by where he fought for humanity; days which will seem like an absurd dream.

But none of it needs to be said.

“You’re home,” you say instead, your voice so soft you doubt he heard it.

But he chuckles gently, coiling your hair around his fingers as he sighs contentedly. “I am.”

[sarahscribbles]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝.

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤: 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟓𝐤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You know you’ve danced with the devil before you even enter your bedroom.

The double doors to the room are shut, but Loki’s displeasure seems to permeate from within, making the air in the hallway feel heavy and sending your heart thundering within your chest. He hadn’t appreciated the little game of cat and mouse that you had initiated at Nat’s birthday party - something that was all too clear when he skulked from the room an hour ago - and now you’re left to wonder if you’ve sorely miscalculated by trying to play the God of Mischief at his own game.

You had only wished to provoke him into some angry sex against the nearest horizontal surface - and maybe again against a flat one for good measure - but now? Now, you’re running through a list of what might be waiting for you on the other side of the doors

Loki, afterall, has punished you for less - the thought of which sends a shiver down your spine and a pleasant tingle between your thighs. 

When you finally push open one side of the doors, you step into a room in shadow. The only light in the room comes from the twin lamps that adorn your separate bedside cabinets, but it’s enough to see Loki sat in the chair by the bottom of the bed. One long leg is crossed over the other and a book is lying open across his lap, though you know he isn’t reading it. He doesn’t look up at the sound of the door snapping closed in the latch, or at your footsteps on the wooden floors. 

Oh. 

His silence is unnerving and makes your stomach flip in excited trepidation. He knows exactly what he’s doing in dragging this out, knows exactly how to play with your mind as expertly as he plays with your body. His soul is bound to yours, and it’s one thing he’ll always use to his advantage. 

It’s only when you begin to noticeably fidget that he decides to speak. 

“I do hope you didn’t leave the party because of me, darling.” You hear his deep voice purr while attempting to unbuckle the strap of your heels. It doesn’t budge no matter what you do, and you’re suddenly very aware of the heavy weight of Loki’s gaze resting on you. “No. They stay on.”

A brief pulse of irritation surges through you. “Loki, it’s been hours. I need -,” you begin, but the sound of his book slamming closed silences you instantly. 

Oh shit.

“It has been hours,” he replies, his voice deadly but still smooth as silk. “Hours since I last saw you at the beginning of the celebrations. Now, why would that be?”

Your painted lips quirk in the beginning of a smile, but you’re quick to bite it back. “I was only playing the game that you’re always to eager to start, my prince,” you reply sweetly, making sure to flutter your eyelashes at him. 

Loki’s gaze doesn’t leave you, and the brat slowly awakening inside you refuses to back down. You raise an eyebrow and you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I wasn’t in the mood for games, darling,” he says quietly. “I had an entire evening planned for you. One that would only end when your voice was hoarse.” 

That same tingle of anticipation, of promise, sizzles to life between your thighs again and sets your blood on fire. 

“Maybe if you had worn a different suit I might have been interested,” you reply breezily, not missing the slight narrowing of his eyes. 

“By all means, continue to be a brat, darling. You’re only succeeding in prolonging your punishment.” His voice wraps around soft as velvet, but with just enough of an edge that you know he means it. 

“Oh, no! What are you going to do, Loki? Fuck me into the mattress? Please, have mercy!” you tease him because you love nothing more than digging your own grave. 

Loki lifts the book from his lap - an elaborate hardcover that you bought him the previous Christmas - and lets it fall from his hands to the floor, the resounding thump echoing that of your own heartbeat.

“Over here. Now,” he says.

The commanding timbre of his voice lights a fire in your veins - he’s fully committed to being dominant tonight, but, unfortunately for him, you’re equally committed to being a brat. 

His eyes roam over you as you cross the room, taking in every inch - or lack of inches - on the little black dress you’re wearing. He doesn’t stop until his eyes reach your feet, still locked in your heels by his magic, and you swear you see the bastard smirk. 

Loki leans back in the chair, spreading his thighs obscenely wide while he rests one elbow on the armrest. The other is dangling loosely over the side as he appraises you like you’re a prized portrait he’s considering purchasing. 

It’s predatory and hungry, but it only makes your cunt throb. 

Elegant fingers toy with his lips as he continues to watch you, but they don’t hide the smirk that’s only grown across his handsome face. “I thought you had realised by now, darling,” he purrs, shifting his hips so you can see the faint bulge at the front of his trousers. “You don’t stand a chance of ever winning these little games.”

“Who said the game is over?” you reply, surprised at how sassy you’ve managed to sound. 

Loki’s eyes smoulder as he looks at you, a roaring flame of arousal and determination reflected back at you. The intoxicating feeling of seeing so clearly what you do to him is something you’ll never grow tired of. 

“Me,” he says simply.

It’s one word, one tiny word, but it squashes out any remaining push back that was in you. The game is over and you lost. 

You feel a sudden pressure at your back, enough to startle you before you realise he’s using his seidr to push you towards him. Each step is one that’s out of your control, and you hit his knees at the same time he reaches out to easily maneuver you across them, resting a strong arm across your upper back to hold you in place. 

“God of Overreacting much?” you huff quietly, something that earns you a firm smack to your ass. You’re still covered by the soft material of your dress, so it doesn’t hurt much, just enough to make you fall silent.

For now.

Loki’s cool fingers dance along your bare thigh, back and forth, back and forth, sending a pleasant tingle shooting through your lower stomach. His touch has the power to both ground you and excite you, it’s comforting and electrifying.

It’s Loki.

“Are you going to continue being a brat? Or are you going to take your punishment like a good girl?” he asks quietly.

Those sinful fingers are still ghosting over your skin in a silent threat, almost daring you to give a contrary answer. “I’ll be good,” you answer because, truthfully, what other choice do you have?

Loki releases a hum of approval. “Good girl,” he purrs, using one skilled hand to slide the hem of your dress over the swell of your ass. “Nothing underneath, darling? My, my, what were you hoping for this evening?” 

He’s given you the perfect opening, one that you can’t pass up even though you know you’ll regret it. Loki will make sure of that. “To see if what everyone says about Bucky’s metal arm is true,” you reply. 

You know you’ve waved a red flag to a bull, and it’s only confirmed when Loki’s hand comes down again in a decidedly harder smack. This time, it’s enough to make you hiss quietly in pain. 

“Continue to be a brat and you’ll have no release tonight. Understood?” His tone is firm, leaving no doubt that he will deny you if you push him any further.

With your orgasm potentially on the line, you’re quick to answer him. “Yes, Loki,” you reply obediently, submissively. 

Above you, all you can hear is the deep, steady sound of his breathing and the barely perceptible rustle of his clothing. The uncertainness is tantalisingly teasing, especially with how his hand is slowly caressing your ass in a wordless promise of what’s to come. 

It’s enough to have you clenching desperately around air. 

“How many, darling, hmm?” he asks finally, mischief dripping like honey from every syllable. 

It’s a cruel game he plays with you. If you guess too low, he’ll double your answer, but if you guess too high, he’ll call you his little masochist and follow through gladly. 

Because Loki can be a bastard when the mood strikes him. 

“Ten?” you answer slowly, feeling your heart thudding in your chest with anticipation. 

There’s a beat of silence after you speak, long enough that a cold fear begins to weave through you. You’ve guessed too low. You played it safe and any second you’re going to hear that velvet laugh of his before he mocks you.

Maybe, if he’s feeling particularly sadistic, he’ll make you beg for more. 

When he finally speaks, you release a quiet breath of relief. “Ten aside? I’m inclined to agree with you, dove,” he concedes. 

You bite your tongue. You hadn’t meant ten aside, but you know he’s being merciful, and you’re in no position to tease the dragon tonight. You swallow a whimper and brace for the force of his hand, but as the seconds keep ticking by, it still doesn’t come. He’s playing with you, making you wonder and wait, so that when his hand lands firm and fast against your ass, you can’t help the sharp shriek of shock that escapes you. 

“Count, darling,” Loki warns. “And remember to thank me.” 

You take a breath, steadying yourself now that the initial shock is waning. “One. Thank you, Loki.” 

Your ass stings in the aftermath, crying out for Loki’s cool soothing touch, but he refuses to give you it. Instead, his skilled fingers dip between your thighs to expertly tease your clit. 

“Good girl,” he praises you, all while you’re quietly moaning at how good his touch feels, even going so far as to try and spread your legs. Loki only chuckles. “I don’t think so, darling,” he teases and removes his hand. 

A mewl of discontent slips past your lips before you can stop it. “Please, Loki,” you plead, rocking your hips against his knees in a vain search for friction. 

He doesn’t answer nor entertain your plea, instead only brings his hand down sharply again. The sound of flesh hitting flesh seems to echo around the room, but it doesn’t mask the sound of your pained groan. 

“Two. Thank you, Loki,” you hastily find your voice. It hurts more than you thought it would, but you’re also wetter than you thought you would be. 

His little masochist indeed.

The next few are rained down so rapidly that you don’t get even a second to recover. They’re swift and so firm that you won’t be surprised if there’s an outline of Loki’s hand on your ass tomorrow morning. He isn’t going easy on you tonight, and it doesn’t take long until your ass is burning and the occasional tear is slipping down your cheeks.

He pauses after seven to let you catch your breath, blessedly caressing your skin to soothe the burn, though you know without a doubt he’s taking the time to admire his handiwork. The coolness of his touch feels so heavenly that you’re almost whining when it leaves to dip back between your thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, dove. I’m very proud of you,” he murmurs gently, teasing your clit until the first faint stirrings of an orgasm begin to lurch to life. “Only three more, but, I must warn you, they’ll be the most difficult.” 

Just like that, his fingers are gone, and you have to fight the overpowering urge to beg for him. As much as he enjoys it, you know he won’t waver tonight. You release a breath and nod, only partially hearing Loki’s “good girl” before his hand connects with your ass again. The force of it is enough to make you cry out and grit your teeth.

It also makes the ache between your thighs multiply tenfold. 

“Eight. Thank you, Loki,” you say shakily. It stings so bad, but you’re determined to see it out to the end. You’re determined to be his good girl. 

His hand leaves again, only to land with equal force on the same spot as before. Your ass has never hurt so badly. 

“Fuck!” You curl your hands into fists and groan. “Nine. Thank you, Loki.” 

You wait nervously for the final one. You know he’s going to make it the worst, the one that will likely leave a colourful bruise in its wake, and the anticipation has your stomach doing summersaults. 

But when that final smack comes, it’s barely more than a love tap to your ass. 

Your entire body deflates gratefully. “Ten. Thank you, Loki,” you finish. 

As quickly as it started, your punishment is over. The heavy weight of Loki’s arm is lifting from your upper back and he’s easily gathering you up and twisting you around so you’re straddling him. Without a word, he’s wiping the last of your tears away with the soft pads of his thumbs. 

“There’s my good girl,” he says softly, now cradling your face in his hands. “I’m so very proud of you, my darling.” 

His praise has a golden warmth bubble happily in your core. Your sore ass is entirely worth it if Loki calls you his good girl. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, love,” you say quietly. You are sorry - you know how quickly Loki’s mind can feed him lies out of something innocent, and you never want to be the source of any of his hurt. 

He hushes you and, before you can draw breath, he’s pulling you into a kiss. It’s slow but hungry, soft but filled with all the raw desire for you that’s pulsating through his blood. You wrap yourself around him easily, twisting your hands into those silky curls and losing yourself to the taste of him. 

Your god, your Loki. 

His hands drift to cup your ass, and you can’t stop the grateful hum against his lips at that soothing coolness. It’s something that Loki doesn’t miss, and you feel him smile into your kiss. 

“Would you rather this? Or would you rather I reward you for your exemplary behaviour?” he teases, smirking wickedly at you as his hands continue running over your ass. 

You pretend to think. “What does this reward entail?” you ask coyly. 

“It entails you and I in that bed for the next few hours,” he says, leaning in to begin placing tiny kisses along the column of your neck.

You hum while his lips continue to travel along your neck and across your collarbone. “I’ll take it.”

[dawnoftime22]

polaroid pictures.

| T.S

Warnings: None! All fluff!

Summary: A peaceful morning where you were simply cooking breakfast, until you notice that Taylor had found the box full of polaroids you both kept in your closet, having been forgotten and dusted away.

Word Count: 2k

Category: Fluff!

A/N: big hug to anyone who needs it, and take care of yourselves, all of you<3

| Started on 20/01/2024, 8:49 AM |

| Finished on 19/09/2024, 4:28 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“in these memories may we share, together and forever, compiled with our future memories in waiting.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Sunshine was spilling through the windows as morning grew in, casting streaks of shadows within the house. Over by the bedroom window, there was air flowing in gently, the wind brushing ever so slightly against the potted plants. The birds chirps were clearer in sound too upon the open window, which makes up a peacefully quiet scenery.

At the bed, Taylor was sitting on it with her legs comfortably crossed, looking down at an old dusty box thats been sitting in the closet for the past few months. The dust was cleared away with the palm of her hand, careful to not make any land to the bed; where you would spend your cozy cuddles.

Meanwhile, you were preparing breakfast, completely unaware of what exactly she could be doing. Your mind was starting to wander, in awaiting for her to come out the bedroom. Your agreement was for her to shower after you were done with cleaning up yourself. She was also to help you with making breakfast or join in to eat, but you were standing, already just about done with the cooking.

The sizzling of the bacons came from the pan, and the smell of it traveled the entire house, filling it with the scent of the sweet mornings at home, plus a delicacy awaiting to be eaten.

Taylor can hear the sound in the distance, and the smell had passed under her nose, absolutely causing her stomach to protest for her to get out of bed already, but her mind had become too caught up on the pile of photos she rediscovered.

You carefully get the bacons out and off to the plates, making sure everything is in their right positions. Then, you open the fridge to get a drink for you and Taylor, pouring them into glass cups.

Once you had settled with breakfast, your hands gently picked up the plates from the counter, balancing them carefully. You walk over to the dining table, placing them on your preferred seats.

The same procedure was followed with your drinks, a small clink sounding out when you accidentally hit the glass against the side of the plate. You then turn around, looking off to the bedroom. There were no sounds of the shower water, so your curiosity only piqued further when you realize it was quiet.

After a few moments of contemplation with a purse of your lips, you start bringing your feet across the wooden flooring, your steps almost as light as the cats, in case she had perhaps gone back to sleep.

When you arrived to the bedroom, you paused and leaned against the doorframe, seeing that Taylor was actually sitting with her legs crossed on the bed, her back facing you.

You tilt your head, certainly finding it odd, especially with the box beside her, but for now, you do the first thing in mind. "Hey, breakfast is ready," your voice calls out softly, reaching her ears easily for her to turn to look over her shoulder.

A soft smile raises on your lips when you see her raised eyebrows, seemingly surprised at your presence. "...Whatcha doin'?" you ask, taking steps forward to see what was hidden from your view by Taylor's body.

She smiles too, glancing at you a moment longer before looking back down. "Looking at our polaroid photos..." she murmurs, eyes transfixed upon them. Her fingertips brush over the photos as if they were fragile.

When your own eyes laid focus to them, your face brightens. You reach out to the bed, grabbing the one closest to you out of the scattered pile.

"You kept all of them?" you ask with a smile growing on your face, almost sounding out with emotion as you look to see each and every picture on the bed, some showing the back of the polaroid rather than the front, which only showed purely black.

She smiles widely, giving a nod before leaning to peek at the one you were looking at. "Of course I did," she whispers, seeing that yours was the first one; where you had spotted her polaroid camera and took a picture of her from the side, in the car. She was driving, and you were sat in the passenger seat. It was even on your first date together, and she remembered it all too well.

She slowly took the photo out from your hold, eyes completely locked on it. The date was written below it with the words, 'first date! look at how pretty she is <3'.

"I keep every one. You know I love them," she says under her breath, looking almost longingly nostalgic at the photo, her thumb rubbing off a small smudge or fingerprint near the edge.

You notice the moment, and you smile, your eyes flicking from her face and to the picture. "Our first date," you mention, your heart swelling.

She smiles softly, but sets it back down, then looks up at you. "Breakfast is done, you said?" she asks, the love in her eyes never faltering.

You were sure your heart skipped a beat as she gazed at you, maybe even skipping a second too long to answer. Even though your love for each other was clear; and you had been in a relationship for years...there never was a moment she could fail at making you fall all over again.

You finally give a nod sooner than later. "Yeah. Here, I'll help you move these," you murmured, scooping the pictures up into your hand to gather them up, making sure that none of them get folded or creased either.

"Oh, no, we don't have to--" she says, her eyes widening when she sees you finishing up by putting them back into the box.

"Nope. We can look through all of them while we're eating." you give her a kiss on the cheek, then carry the box up into your arms, turning to walk out the door.

She lets out a small laugh at your quickness, then followed you out to the dining table, seeing the plates and drinks you had already set down. Upon them were, of course, the bacon and eggs you had cooked earlier, along with toast to eat with it.

You place the box down at the middle of the table just as she sat down, and you took the photos out, placing them gently, and careful to not set any near the drinks.

When you soon got to the last of them, your eyes found the sight of Taylor's old polaroid camera, sitting delicately in the box.

She was starting her breakfast, picking up the fork and knife as she looks through the polaroids still. Once she had cut the toast with the eggs to put into her mouth, chewing with the bitten bacon, she sets the fork back down, reaching out to move a couple of the photos.

You fiddle with the camera a little, checking that it was all well and in good order before seeing that it still had some leftover film within it, and something comes up in your mind.

"Tay," you gently call out, holding the camera with a good grip in your hand. She hums, about to take a glance up when she hears a click and a flash goes by.

The shot slowly comes sliding up from the camera, and you smile, but also couldn't resist letting out a giggle when you took out the photo to see her blinking, probably from the flash that came over her.

"Baby," she giggles, coming back into reality as she realizes you had taken a picture of her, her cheeks flushing. You bit your lip with the smile, setting the polaroid on the table. It was slowly having the sight of her with breakfast, although it was still pitch black looking.

"What? You looked cute," you say softly with a chuckle, and your tone was teasing, almost just as it was when you took your first picture with her.

Taylor shakes her head, the raise of her lips lingering without a doubt. "I'm surprised it still works," she says, continuing to eat her meal.

You look at her, shrugging. "Well it has only been sitting in box...we should use it again, you know?" you suggest, playfully and sincerely, holding out the camera to her.

Her eyes travel to it, and her smile grew wider. "I'd love to." she reaches out, grabbing the beloved polaroid camera back into her hands, just how it used to be. She remembers every party (at least, the ones she didn't get horribly drunk on), and nearly every person she's taken the polaroids with. You, of course, especially.

Her fingers were careful as she held it, as if it was an old dusty camera that would break completely under her touch, but it fit perfectly in the shape of her palms. You watch with a stare that held a smile, your hands picking up your own fork and knife to start breakfast.

"Your turn," she calls out, standing up from her chair and taking a step back, holding the camera up to her eye to see through the lenses.

"Wait-- but, I--" you stutter out, unprepared and having just settled to eat, panickly moving to put down your held utensils, but Taylor already took the picture, a flash going by to blind you.

She giggles softly, catching you off guard just as you had for her, and you shook your head, joining in her soft laughter. The day goes like this; the two of you going through the pile of polaroids and adding to it with pictures of you both. You got snaps of the cats too, which caused some of them to blink as if they had one brain cell from the flash, or run away from you both.

You took pictures of just about anything precious to you too. Your intertwined hands, the cute plush she got for you on your anniversary that you loved, or her guitar.

But then, you especially remembered to take some pictures when you invited Taylor for a board game session. Although one part of it had made her forgot how many steps she had, and you already picked up the dice, causing her numbers to be untraceable.

When she tried moving forward with what she thought she got, in reality, she had another step forward without the snake, but you didn't say anything about it as you watched her fall down, getting your turn once she finished. When it reached the end, you had won the game, making her gape her mouth open.

"You distracted me! Thats cheating!" she says, pointing her finger at you. You stifle a laugh and your cheeks flushed as it was true, which only rang bells into her head that you had done something.

"No, I didn't! I won!" You shook your head, giggling and unwilling to admit it. She stares at you, squinting her eyes at you, then looked away.

"Foul play, no fair." She pouted, crossing her arms. Her shoulders fall ever so slightly, displaying an adorably upset Taylor, and you bit your lip, looking at her with your heart melting.

"Okay, okay, you did have another step that could have avoided the snake..." you say, your voice dissolving into a quiet mumbling, feeling guilty. A gasp quickly comes from her, and she looks at you, her open mouth having made the sound of shock this time.

"You're such a cheater!" She gently pushes her hand against your chest, giggles filling the room entirely, but you go closer to her.

"Cuddles. I'll treat you with cuddles for forgivement..." you murmur, bringing her into an embrace as you nuzzle into her shoulder. She continues with her pout, but this time, a little more actingly as she had a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I'm still upset," she whispers, but her body said otherwise when she leaned into you. You knew she wasn't, at least not truly, but you hug her tighter.

"I'm sorry, baby," you whisper back, trying not to laugh again and instead, going further to sit in her lap, your legs straddling her waist and your face burying into her chest.

Then, you bring your face out, only to lean up and give her a kiss on her pouty lips. "There. Is that better?" you asks softly, looking into her eyes. A smile replaces her pout, and she nods, giving a nuzzle to your nose. "Much."

(bonus pic because I loved both and couldn't pick, but also because it matches the ending<3)

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

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[reallyhatethiswebsite]

cat and mouse with Raphael and Tav for cutie anon (this got way too long im sorry)

Read on AO3

-

Making wagers with a devil were never a good idea, but Tav’s sense of self-preservation had dissolved long before a cosmic tadpole was put in her head. Besides, she had it on good authority (her own) that this particular devil (usually kind of sort of maybe) played fair, and since she was already warming his bed and wetting his cock whenever he wanted, she felt she had little to lose. Still, she’d waited until he was in a good enough mood before she proposed her idea, just in case.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” said Raphael, one fine eyebrow raised, “you want to…play. Yes?”

“Yes,” said Tav, trying not to squirm at the flat, juvenile way he phrased it. He sat squinting behind his desk in his study as she made her sales pitch, as if to say: make me understand why you’re wasting my time. “A cat-and-mouse kind of game, since you’re so fond of that metaphor. I’ll hide somewhere in the house, and you have to find me within a certain amount of time or you lose.”

“And why,” he drawled, though Tav knew him well enough to see he was considering it, had already mentally abandoned whatever he’d been doing, “would I agree to this?”

“Let’s make it a wager. If I win, I get to keep those gauntlets of hill giant strength.”

“Ah, the ones you’ve already put your pilfering hands on several times…” Tav blinked innocently. Raphael tsked. “What do I get when I win?”

She shrugged, ignoring his ‘when’ not ‘if’. “That’s up to you. What do you want?”

The devil smiled at her then, a slow, smouldering thing that lit simmering flames in her belly. Excitement raced through her blood. Therein lay the secret, the thing she truly desired from this game: to be hunted by Raphael, the cambion, the devil she’d chosen as her lover. On some level Tav was certain he knew, and she was also certain it appealed to him just as much. “Hmm…I think I’ll decide my prize when the time comes,” he said, eyes half-lidded. He rose to his full height. Tav experienced a sharp thrill. “Alright, little mouse. You have yourself a wager. Shall we begin?”

“Rules first. I get a five minute head start. If you don’t find me in, let’s say, twenty minutes, I win. And you can’t cheat, either. No using your debtors or tracking and location spells or anything like that. Fair and square.”

“I don’t need to cheat to catch you,” Raphael purred, amused. “I’ll play by your rules, as long as you keep playing by mine and stay out of the places little mice aren’t meant to be. Can you do that?”

“Of course I can.”

“Good girl. Well, then…” He slunk around his desk, gently dragging one claw along its wooden surface, staring at her the entire time. He leaned against it, crossed his arms. Tilted his head. His tail swayed, hypnotic. He was ready to play. Tav’s heart began to thunder. “Time’s ticking, pet. Better start running.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Tav spun on her heel and took off. A nervous, girlish giggle escaped her. She considered if, perhaps, she’d bitten off more than she could chew, but in for a penny in for a pound. She didn’t have a particular hiding spot in mind, aware of her lover’s penchant for reading her mind (no matter how many times she told him not to) and how that technically wasn’t a violation of their rules. Instead she’d be his antithesis right now: chaos.

Her shoes were too loud and slowed her down so she ditched them, the marble warm beneath her bare soles. She thought of him waiting in that study, a panther coiled and eager to prowl; a silhouette in the dark, clever eyes glowing as he counted down the seconds. Her stomach tightened. Anticipation set her teeth on edge. She knew the House of Hope well, but couldn’t match the knowledge of the man who’d designed it. The likelihood of her winning was low, but she’d overcome such dire odds before – and in truth, she didn’t really want to win.

Tav hadn’t been counting, was unsure how long she had left before he began the hunt, but she got as far from Raphael’s study as she could manage, finding a nook behind one of his huge, garish statues to tuck herself into. She knew better than to hunker down. She wouldn’t be staying in one spot. She crouched, sat on her haunches, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

At first, the wait was fun. She was a little breathless, giddy, tense. Every small sound startled her. She expected it to be him, yet he never appeared. She didn’t even hear the distant jingle of his stupid boots, a sign she should move. As time dragged on, Tav’s calves aching, she began to wonder: had she beaten him? Surely not. Maybe he’d juked her, pretended to indulge in her silly game and then left her to squat in a corner like an idiot. That sounded like something he’d do. She frowned, chewing the inside of her cheek, considering her options. She couldn’t tell if twenty minutes had passed.

A cold shiver went up her spine. The tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rose. Tav stiffened, suddenly aware she wasn��t alone. Slowly she turned her head to peer over her shoulder and there he was, perched like a gargoyle in the space behind her, so close she’d touch him if she leaned back just a few inches. His manic grin was all teeth. All fangs. Black and yellow eyes glittered with satisfaction. How long had he been there?

“Meow.”

“Shit!” Tav shrieked. She tumbled onto her ass in shock. The devil cackled, rich and mean. Tav didn’t think; forced herself up on her feet and fled.

“That’s it, little mouse,” Raphael crowed, “run run run, as fast as you can…”

He’d found a way to trigger her fight or flight instinct. Of course he had. Tav’s blood roared in her ears, her heart smashing against her ribs. The devil was in hot pursuit now, his stride quick and powerful, footsteps thumping on the stone.

“Your fear smells delicious, my pet,” he called out. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

Doors closed on their own in front of her, corridors sealed off with magic barriers. The devil was herding her, Tav realised, back to his study where all this began. Where there was nowhere else to run. She came to an abrupt stop, heaving for air. She turned, arousal, exhilaration and dread warring in her mind. Her cunt was wet, nipples hard, knees shaking. This was exactly what she wanted. Her devil loomed in the doorway, savouring his prey. His feast. That hypnotic waving of his tail returned. It meant something in devil body language, Tav knew, but her thoughts were too scattered to recall.

“I guess you win, huh,” she managed. Swallowed a lump in her throat. Raphael didn’t answer immediately; she couldn’t break his intense gaze, couldn’t escape, couldn’t completely place the way he was looking at her. Tav watched him scent the air, realised he was scenting her, the smell of her sex, her excitement. He released a rumble of approval, his cock already hard and tenting his trousers.

“Yes,” he finally said, his voice deep and thick. “And what a delightful little prize I’ve won indeed…”

He approached her with the finesse of a stalking predator, burning with sexual intent.

“Down comes the claw, right?” Tav breathed. The devil smirked. With that claw he effortlessly opened her blouse, a single swipe scattering buttons all over the ground. She gasped. Raphael leered at her breasts, her flush chubby nipples, before he pushed her blouse over her shoulder so he could lick the sweat from her pulse point. Without ceremony he yanked her trousers and her smalls down to her ankles, growling when he felt her slickness and heat on his fingers. Tav sighed when he touched her pussy, but it didn’t last. She was his prize and he would do as he wanted with her.

Raphael splayed her out on his desk, spreading her thighs apart to fit his bulk between them, forcing her to free her feet from her trousers – naked from the waist down while he remained fully dressed. He kissed her deeply, hard, forked tongue licking behind her teeth. One of his hands entwined with hers, their fingers linked, his other unbuckled his belt enough to free his erection. He didn't tease, just guided his cock – nudged her sloppy clit with his leaking glans – and pushed into her. They groaned in unison when he bottomed out. She felt so full. He stayed still for a moment, savouring the hot grip of her cunt. His tail kept swinging to and fro. Tav wrapped her legs around his waist, crossed her ankles at the small of his back. The new angle slid him in deeper, the fat head of his cock nudging the entrance of her cervix.

“So wet,” the devil crooned, “so warm, so tight…”

Then he began to move. Lazy, languid thrusts, if they could be called such when all he did was flex his hips to drag his fat cock in and out the way he liked. Every slick sound of his dick working inside her harmonised with her soft gasps and his rhythmic grunts. He pinned her free hand to the desk, linked those fingers too. Pressed himself flat against her, kissing and biting her damp mouth as they fucked, slow and indulgent. There was something so intimate about it. They'd never had sex this way before. He engulfed her completely. Tav wished they were naked so their skins could touch, the closest they could truly be; the closest she would ever allow him to her soul. Fleshy ridges and soft barbs on his dick snagged and rubbed in every right place. Her nerves were ablaze. He was barely doing anything – this was obviously for his pleasure, not hers – and yet she mewled and gasped into his mouth like a wanton whore each time he re-sheathed himself. She’d already been so wired from their game, and now… She couldn't catch her breath. A first in their relationship, Tav climaxed before Raphael did. Not with a bang, but a scorching whisper; humid and electric, pulsing through her veins, settling in her guts. Her moan was broken, quiet. Her devil swallowed it all.

“Yes,” he hissed, greedy, delighted, “give it to me…”

Her cunt squeezed and contracted, milking his cock for something he was almost ready to offer. Tav trembled, grasping his hands so tightly it would be bone-crushing for a normal man. Raphael seemed to relish it instead, snarling softly, kissing her again and again, sticky lingering brushes of their mouths. He sucked on her tongue, bit it, and she whimpered.

“Such a good girl. Such a sweet little mouse. So pliant. Ripe for the taking. For me to take.” The more he babbled, the closer to orgasm he was. The roll of his hips sped up, hard enough to bounce her breasts if the broad expanse of his chest had given them space. He chased his end almost mindlessly. “You played well, my treasure, but, ah, I always win…mmmm…”

The devil pressed his forehead to hers when he came. Tav got lost in the inky abyss of his eyes, framed by his spreading wings. He stared into her soul, his expression twisted in possessive lust, as he pumped her womb full with spurts of hot cum. You are mine, he declared with every movement, every single thing he did. You are mine. He was beautiful and terrible. She was his. He didn’t pull out, choosing to keep them sealed together, cock-in-cunt, as he softened. He rested in her arms, nuzzled her neck – mindful of his horns. His panting eventually melted into strange raspy purrs, and as she freed their hands to stroke his hair, Tav realized with gentle dawning horror that she loved him.