#So much of his behavior finally makes sense

[carylmeanslove]

My thoughts on it all after a very vivid dream I had. (Thank you intuition)

(My strictly speculation, but it makes a whole hell of a LOT of sense, doesn't it?)

The truth is being hinted at. Luke & Nicola are subtly blending in some truth in the fake narrative with A looking at JV the way she did & JD looking like an assistant more than a friend in the last two days. After this week being very busy. It feels like we're ramping up to the grand finale in this whole thing.

Now let me tell you about what I think happened due in part to a vivid dream I had. I am not saying that JV & A were always a thing/dating since back in 2023. I think they were friends but do like each other very much thus the body language, behavior back then & her body language & look now.

It's evident that A wants to be famous/wants to have money more than anything but doesn't want to work hard herself & wants it handed to her. So, she saw her chance to get that with being with Luke & using him to get there. Luke is why she found a way into meeting him & wanted to be in Luke's friend group in the first place. She thought she could try to get involved with Luke only to ride his coat tails/use him to gain fame & fortune. So that's what A stayed focused on even if JV seem so great when she met him & she unexpectedly really liked him a lot, but JV isn't famous.

She didn't realize that it wasn't going to be easy, because Luke's heart belongs to someone. A didn't let that stop her trying though. I still get mad when watching the videos of the NYE 2023 party. Because he was totally wasted. He totally wasn't in his right mind that night. I can totally imagine the SoHos working on him due to his sadness over not being with Nicola due to them still being on their break & not knowing if she'd want to get back together when after reshoots it probably made him very much wanting to get back together even more. The Sohos probably using his sadness to take advantage of him. Having him drink away his sadness.

When the videos of the party leaked. A used the optics of the kiss to her advantage, but very slyly so she could remain in the Soho friend group. She probably/very likely made Luke feel bad. That she thinks he took advantage of her by kissing her while they all know he is in love with someone. When in reality it was her & the Sohos who took advantage of HIM by getting him drunk. So, Luke feeling in the wrong allowed her to remain in the group.

I have to add here that I think A was to Luke only someone in his friends group, which then after he learned of her true nature, he started calling her just a friend of a friend. If there was a situationship or any casual dating going on, wouldn't they have been standing next to each other/touching in the Sohos photobooth pictures? Remember on the WT on the Wingman question? Luke said he has friends who have tried to wingman him. But he said sorry to those friends, that he is not the one to help. It's because his heart was taken by Nic & he was hopeful that they'd get back together. It probably happened when he was depressed over Nic, that they tried to get him to maybe start seeing A, but it was a hard no. But we know they probably didn't let that stop them from taking advantage of him during NYE.

Now the tennis court cheek kiss is very telling in my opinion. He tensed up when she kissed his cheek. If they were really together, wouldn't it have been another 'on the lips' kiss? A knew she couldn't kiss him on the lips again, because he wasn't drunk anymore & he wouldn't allow it, but someone for whom he feels guilty about kissing while drunk, her kissing him on the cheek as a fake apology for thinking he was trying to take advantage of her perhaps. A taking advantage of his kind nature. That's the feeling I get anyway.

But then once him & Nicola obviously got back together, he talked to his team about the optics of the leaked videos. They probably told him not to worry about it they can use plausible deniability by putting it out there that he is publicity single. So, it muddied the water for the online fandom/GA. It can give him & Nicola some cover/privacy until they're ready to announce their relationship but also doesn't confirm something with A that was never true. A kept up her sly ways unknown or unrealized by Luke & since he felt so guilty still about kissing her while drunk, he decided to let her get some exposure for a bit. Likely here is when he even promised her the exposure.

Then when she got less & less sly (going rogue) & Nicola helped him see why A was doing it. Luke had to make sure A wasn't misunderstanding that he wasn't interested in her. But of course, she didn't like being rejected. She was losing her way, her chance at being famous, where she wanted to be. So, she worked some stuff over some people super close to Luke. She weaseled her way to the NYC premiere even though she was uninvited. After that Luke started seeing A's true motives & her true nature. Eventually his team had to step in with the NDA, because then it was desperately needed especially when there was more than just keeping his & Nicola's relationship a secret, but also a precious little one too. Luke learning A's true nature is why he was displaying more & more anger body language around A as time went on. When around the Sohos as a group it isn't as bad, because the friends are there too. But when it's A by herself he is miserable.

Someone said that A was heard saying at the NYC premiere that she wasn't given the exposure she was promised. Makes me think she was wanting him to act happy around her not just her getting to be around him. She wanted the Luke that he is when he is around Nicola. That's ridiculous of her to think he'd do. She wanted it to be truly believed they were together. She wanted to be treated like the most important person ever. Thus, her behavior at the NYC premiere. She wanted to be seen as if she was the biggest star that ever lived. (*Sarcastism activated due over this whole thing of A* Great parenting Mr. & Mrs. R!) Her illusions of grandeur & her upbringing making her that way. (Come on A, you don't have to be the same as your parents. Do better, Be better)

I think she planned the Pap moment. She wanted to trap Luke without being blamed for it. She called Backgrid or had her mother or someone else in her circle do it. She didn't look surprised AT ALL in those pictures. She wanted to make it look like they were together & that it was a hard launch, but I love that Luke ran ahead to get away from her, so fast that she almost fell. Serves her right.

He still was under the NDA. He willingly fell on the sword for Nicola & BN. He took the heat. I still smile thinking about his 'We won't let her ruin our night' moment story afterwards & Nicola's song she shared with the lyrics "I'll be waiting for you"

So then began the "HBS" trips that I'm sure were part of the NDA obligations due to him allowing A to be around still at that point. Letting the optics of it to continue until he fulfills the NDA obligations. A getting into the GQ Heroes event even though she wouldn't have normally. R & S hiring her so she could get in is so telling.

Then comes the adorable things of Luke bringing up Nicola on Fallon with a hint of his feelings for her with 'I can be Ken for her', Also, him subtly confirming the rumors in Brazil being true about the walk on the beach. Gotta love Lukey's breadcrumbs. Then what we now know is that Nicola was in NYC at same time. L/N's teams probably cleverly arranged Fallon/KS on their schedules so they could spend some more time together between busy schedules.

Then we got another obligation (perk for A I'm sure) being fulfilled by Luke with him taking A to a Milan fashion show. Poor thing, Luke was miserable. Thank God for Holly (Girl, I love you!) But then we got another possible Luke & Nicola time with Temu Luke/Dylan B (Decoy for Luke) being seen in Paris near Luke. Holly gave us a hint about it in a comment interaction with Nicola about his look. Also adore Luke already wanting to get his curls back for Nicola. Pace yourself Lukey, I know you really love making your Nic happy, but hair is going grow as fast as it can grow.

Then we got A thinking she's smart by posting insinuations every time Nicola posted something great. Trying to undermine Nicola & Luke. Also revealing her jealousy of Nicola, because Nicola is everything A can never be. We got the amazing JVN combating A's behavior with their amazing shading talent. Love you JVN! We also got crumbs from them of L/N's 'little pumpkin' coming.

Then we noticed pieces more recently that when put together with stuff in the summer it shows Luke & Nicola went to Italy the week leading to the Sorrento ordeal. That was the final straw for Luke with the Soho crap. He left the Sohos behind. He went home to Nicola, Good thing Nicola likely warned him of some stuff about the Soho's sly & manipulating behaviors as well as the obvious danger they put him in by posting in real time his location.

Luke & Nicola were finally reunited; his summer was complete. Thank you, Emily, for your story letting us know it was done. But they still couldn't do anything like announce their happiness openly yet because Luke was still under the NDA contract, it probably stated they couldn't hard launch until a certain date. He left A behind, so he didn't really complete his obligations, but he didn't care. He was still liking her posts; that's also obligations so it counted. Nicola didn't confirm but still hinted at their happiness. They then had to work out what to do with the whole Luke bashing that was happening. The JD thing was their answer. Prove people's double standards. Or at least that was part of it. There was more to it. L/N were taking turns in the spotlight. Decoy needed.

Fast forward to a couple of almost hard launches after the 1st round of the NDA was complete in October. Each one being thwarted. First by a horrible fake red haired menace's minion & the 2nd by A lying & posting another insinuation in the form of Spain pictures. I keep telling people she wasn't there with Luke. The damn floor of the balcony is a different color. The balconies do NOT match. It's A's lying ways. Just like her stolen video of a pasta making restaurant & trying to pass it as her own, to which JVN was acting very frustrated afterward (I feel ya, JVN) & Nicola liked a posted meme of a SpongeBob that showed she really wanted to say something but not being able to. (I feel ya, Nic) Then later Gelato eating in Cyprus trying to pass it off as Italy. EYE ROLL.

Finally, after things were starting to get serious about BN which I think A wasn't able to take it when she knew time was running out on BN coming soon, afraid that they would launch any day. She got the lawyers involved because she felt she wasn't given enough. Luke tried to get her to have more chance of getting the kind of exposure she wanted by trying to rehab her image in December. Even JV got involved (Girl that is who you really like. It's plain as day. do better, be better & get it!). That was when the 2nd round of obligations started, which Luke & Nicola of course would have made sure was arranged to be when they needed the privacy the most for their little one arriving. Having those closest to them help in the believability.

I believe 2nd round is now almost over so Luke & Nicola are subtly blending in some truth in the fake narrative with A looking at JV the way she was & JD looking as if he is an assistant more than a friend & I can't wait for truth to be revealed.

That is my current thoughts/belief on the timeline.

ETA: Added something I forgot in the A being in the Sohos friend group, NYC premiere, Sorrento & Lukola's August sections. Also rewording a few things & fixing typos.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 48

(Grim has a certain preference towards Leona given the fact Leona is a Nemean Lion and a feline species like Grim. Though he teases Leona often and has gifted Leona the nickname Lion-a-guy, Grim is actually extremely fond of Leona and enjoys spending time with him. Leona is fond of Grim- not only for his bond to the Human, but for his personality and temper- so he will often be much more patient with Grim than he would any other child. Leona also feels a kind of Kingly Pride when it comes to protecting the kit as it is the male's job in a Lion Pride to be the defender.)

Warnings; yandere, arguing, protective behavior, short creepy moment, cuddling, eavesdropping, more yandere behavior from the guys, Hellcat, Nemean Lion, Harpies, Shinigami, Dragon, Drider

~~~~~~~~

"So... Tell me how this happened?"

You stood looking at the absolute mess that was Vil, Eric, Leona, and Grim tangled up in the branches of a tree. Though you had been determined to give Grim space to spread his wings and learn to fly from the Harpies, the loud yelling that drew you in was impossible to ignore. There were several shouts that had drawn your attention and drew you over to the group, now you could see that the males and your kit were stuck in a tree.

"The stupid bird wouldn't let me give your cub a bath after he got covered in dirt!"

"Say that to my face, Leona! I'll give you another scar to think about!"

"Piss off, Birdy! If you just let me give the cub a bath, we wouldn't be in this mess."

You frowned, looking away from the two arguing Housewardens and over at Eric who seemed more than a little embarrassed about being stuck in the tree. If anything, he looked more put out than Vil or Leona by the whole situation. It would make sense, he had been extremely regal and refined whenever you saw him prior, so he was likely more embarrassed that you saw him stuck in the tree than if someone else saw him.

Malleus stood over your shoulder, observing the several males tangled in the tree. He seemed rather amused by the nonsense that must have taken place to result in the two Harpies, one kit, and one Lion being stuck in the tree.

You were almost amused by the situation as well before you realized Grim was extremely quiet and worry began to build in you. The Kit's eyes were glassy and he seemed to have a small hitch in his breathing that only became more pronounced as you looked at him. He was crying.

The second your brain registered the Kit was in tears was the second the humor you felt at the situation died. You were quick to act on instinct and not on sense as you immediately began scaling the tree, ignoring the splinters and cuts you got on your hands as you hurried up the tree to where the Kit was stuck. He began openly weeping when you got to him, gently disentangling his tail and wings from the branches and pulling him close to your chest.

"M-Mama!!"

"It's okay, Sweetheart. It's okay..."

"M-my wings hurt!"

"We can have Papa Hades take a look at them to make sure nothing is broken. I think we are done with whatever adventure you were having today. How about we go home and rest for a bit?"

"Okay..."

As you began to look at getting down, you realized Malleus had also scaled the tree behind you and was keen to keep you close. He had been trying to untangle the still hissing Harpy and Nemean Lion duo when Grim had begun to sob. The others went silent as Grim cried and set aside their argument to give you and Grim quiet.

The Kit snuggled into your shoulder as you got him to stop crying, rubbing his back and slowly swaying to help him calm down. The Kit finally began to relax which gave you the chance to look over his wings, only seeing superficial scratches and no swelling. It was likely he was crying in frustration and from the sting of the scratches on his new wings. Odds are he was terrified of ruining his wings right after he got them back.

"May I help, Mademoiselle Trickster?"

You almost jumped in surprise at the sudden voice of Rook who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Despite how he startled you, his offer was certainly not an unwelcome one as you looked back at the base of the tree and realized you were actually rather high up. The height paired with holding Grim made it obvious that getting down from the tree would be difficult.

"If you don't mind helping me."

"Of course, Mademoiselle! It would be my most esteemed honor."

The Drider gently lifted you and Grim from the branch, easily using a spindle of silk to lower you down to the ground without jostling you. Malleus abandoned his prior goal of helping the Harpies and Lion to join you on the ground, his leathery wings helping him glide down next to you.

Vil and Leona seemed to finally be able to untangle themselves and were quick to try and join you on the ground. Vil paused to help his father untangle from the tree as the three managed to finally return to the ground. Despite how embarrassed the three looked, you were more focused on Grim instead and that seemed to help soothe the others.

Grim was much calmer than he was prior, still cuddled into your chest as he mewled gently to you. His cheek was pressed into your chest as he continued to slowly move his wings in pseudo-flapping motions. It was likely that he was trying to self soothe as he nuzzled close and tried to relax himself as much as possible.

As you pet his forehead a sound in the back of your mind drew you attention. It was a deep rolling noise of breathing that seemed to overpower everything else. You slowly turned to look towards the nearby treeline and saw an odd shape staring out at you from the darkness.

Underneath the shadow of the canopy was the twisted face of a bear staring at you. The poor beast had no fur remaining on half of it's emaciated body, burns coated the creature leaving the remaining fur burned. It looked more skeleton than bear as it huffed out heavily from an obviously broken jaw.

"Mousey?"

"Hm?"

You refused to look away from the scrawny bear, hearing the sound of Leona speaking gently to you. Whatever it was he said in response was lost to you as that breathing sound only got louder as the Bear began to slowly draw back into the forest. Your legs moved unbidden as you continued to focus on the bear, not realizing how you were drawing closer to it like a moth to flame.

Something inside of you screamed as you drew closer to the beast, seeing the way it glanced back as if encouraging you to follow. Before you could walk farther towards the woods, a pair of wings engulfed your being, breaking off your stare and looking back at whoever it was that had stopped your dazed approach. Malleus had a frown on his lips and his brows were pulled together in confusion as if he couldn't understand what was happening.

"(Y/n), my Treasure, are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you were about to wander into the poacher filled forests?"

"No, I was following the bear."

"What bear?"

"That one-"

As you pointed out to where the bear had been, nothing remained. There was no sign of the bear or that it had even been in the forest before you mentioned it. The sudden disappearance of such a large creature confused you, as there was no way they hadn't heard the beast huffing if you heard it so clearly.

"... Where did it go..?"

"Perhaps you aren't as rested and healed as you had believed. Maybe we should all return to your dorm."

"But it was there! I swear it was!"

Your insistence made Rook wonder if you were correct as he walked to the treeline. From first glance, there had been nothing disturbed. As the Drider took a longer look, he could see the indentations of large paws leading into the woods from where you had pointed. Indeed, there was a set of tracks that indicated the bear had stood for quite a long time before disappearing into the woods. Why it stood there and where it had gone was a mystery to the hunter, paired with the fact that he hadn't heard so much as a twig snapping, Rook was at a loss.

Only the Undying Ursus Minors would have left such tracks, but he had believed they kept clear of the school. One being present for so long piqued the Drider's curiosity as he turned back to regale his findings to you.

"It seems Mademoiselle Trickster is correct. There was a bear in the forest."

"I didn't hear a bear though. Mousey, what was it doing when you saw it?"

You glanced back at Leona before looking into the woods once more, your head tilted slightly as if the new angle would make the bear reappear. After a moment of watching the empty forest, your turned back to look at the Lion. He seemed equally concerned and you didn't miss the look that Vil and Eric shared.

"Watching. It was just... standing there watching."

Leona frowned at this, reaching out to begin herding you away from the woods. Malleus- for once- seemed to be of the same mind as Leona as the two ushered you away. Vil and Eric fell into step with the group while you were glancing back into the woods. None of them seemed as curious as you were and they seemed more perturbed than anything.

As you all made it back to the dorm, it was clear there was something more at play with how keen they were to get you to your room. You allowed them to lead you and Grim away with the promise of sending Hades to look at Grim's wings just in case. Once you were somewhat settled, the men were quick to leave you to your own devices as a hushed conversation kicked up just quiet enough that you couldn't understand what was being said.

If they weren't going to tell you what was going on, you would just have to go and figure it out yourself.

"Grim, sweetheart, will you do me a favor?"

~•§•~

"What do you mean it just stood there?"

"That's what Mousey said. That it was just watching us."

"And none of you saw or heard it? Just her?"

Vil nodded, standing with Eric as the two considered how long the bear may have been standing. They hadn't been in the tree long, but even still, none of them had noticed the beast.

The Harpies had both crashed into the tree after Leona jumped and grabbed onto Vil in an attempt to wrestle the kit away. Leona was nothing if not protective of his found Pride and Grim was a key part of that Pride as his cherished Mousey's cub. He was not about to let the 'prissy birdy' take away Grim's affection and attention.

There was also the fact that Grim wanted to go see Leona when he noticed the Lion, but Vil had tried to hold the Kit back and away from the rival Nemean Lion. Eric tried to stop the two from fighting but was pulled into the tree by the pair. It didn't end well for anyone, and it had ultimately upset Grim.

"I saw the tracks left by the Ursus Minor. Based on the depth of the first prints, it was standing like that for a while. It was odd though. Ursus Minor are clumsy and uncoordinated when their physical decay is that advanced. The prints were clean and deliberate leading into the woods. I would wager anyone could follow them with how precise they were. It was... Unusual."

Clay spoke up then, looking over his crossbow as he cleaned the weapon. The gleam of one of his Magestones sparkling in the interior light. Though he had been rather unassuming despite his grand reputation, it became unnerving watching the expert dismantle and clean the heavy crossbow as he spoke.

"I can look into it. Met my share of Ursus Minor in my day, and the last regular bear on Sage Island died years back. This kind of behavior is abnormal. If the Ursus Minor are changing, there must be an explanation as to why."

The Silverbacked Yeti grinned at the young yet adept hunter, seeing in him a common spirit. He had been hunting dangerous creatures for a while and was happy to impart his wisdom to the young adult. Perhaps he could even mentor the Drider that clearly had a decent repertoire of skills already.

"Shall we go follow the tracks and see just where this bear went? Perhaps it will shed some light on this recent shift in behavior that is also being seen in (Y/n). She may be healed from her illness, but her behavior of late is unusual. Sleepwalking. Frequent nightmares. This newfound interest in the Ursus Minor and Major. It could be coincidence. It could be something more."

Rook smiled brightly, seeming excited by the prospect of going on a hunt. Though he occasionally would hunt deer in the woods, he had learned to avoid the undead bears on his hunts. It was a thrilling idea to flip the script and hunt the bears instead.

"I'm honored! I shall work to be an adept understudy to your tutelage."

~•§•~

You frowned as Grim repeated the basics of what he heard to you. It was more than a little frustrating to be kept cooped up in your room instead of being able to see for yourself. Even if you went out, your collar would tell them you had wandered too far away and lead them right to you.

Of course, if you next got the chance, looking around the perimeter couldn't hurt, right?

[raileurta]

Megatron's wife

Okay there's this incomplete fanfic about Megatron getting brain damage and thinking Starscream is his wife. I'm not too much of a fan of tfp megastar because Starscream is my baby and I hated seeing him being abused in canon. I do like them from an aesthetic point of view but that's about it.

This plot however could be extremely great for angst potential. I'm picturing as Megatron slowly gets more and more of his processor repaired he starts questioning weird behavior from Starscream. He notices how jumpy the seeker is around him, how he will startle if the overlord touches him unexpectedly, and his overwhelming fear of him. Starscream desperately tries to mask it or always seemingly has a valid reason for it but Megatron does notice this. He's extremely confused why his wife would be so terrified of him. He loves his wife so much.

Megatron would never hurt him.

So one night he decides to do some research. He sneaks out when Starscream is in recharge gets into a mainframe console and starts looking through files.

Other people, mostly Shockwave, have prevented him from accessing certain data files for his “health” but he does not believe him. He's no hacker but he is knowledgeable enough to know how to get around certain locks. Coming across a large folder labeled “Starscream” he unlocks it and starts watching the videos inside.

Not even halfway through he stops looking at the console, collapses onto the floor and starts to drive heave; he can't bring himself to watch another clip. Megatron is absolutely disgusted at what he saw. There were many, many, recordings of Megatron beating Starscream, quite severely too and threatening to kill him.

He has reasonably come to the conclusion he was an abusive partner to his second in command. If cybertronians could cry he would be a sobbing mess. He finally “understood” why Starscream was so hesitant to be around him in the first place and the weird behavior when the subject of being his wife came up. He goes back to his and Starscream shared berth not even masking his loud footsteps. This rouses Starscream from recharge wondering what's going on. Before he can even get his processor straight Megatron pulls him into a tight hug making nonsensical ramblings about how much he loves the seeker and how he's never going to hurt him again. It takes a bit for him to understand but once he does his stomach drops. He starts to frantically explain away about how he's a great partner and that was made up. Megatron doesn't believe him and this just makes him feel worse.

Starscream isn't quite sure what to do.

Megatron starts talking about how he's not going to get his processor fixed if it means he'll go back to mistreating Starscream. This makes Starscream even more conflicted. He has to go along with the wife delusions so Megatron can get better but if he agrees with this when Megatron eventually gets his memories back when his self repair nanites fix the problem he's definitely going to kill the seeker. So he tries to run away to seek help from Shockwave but Megatron refuses to let him leave. Megatron doesn't want to be an abuser anymore but he's still not the best guy and he's extremely emotional right now.

They agree to sleep on the problem and figure out what to do in the morning. I don't know what would come next though but I like to think after he gets his memories back this whole thing gave Megatron lots of perspective and he starts to treat Starscream more nicely because of it. In return Starscream would stop trying to overthrow him or assassinate him.

For me personally if I wrote about this I wouldn't have it end explicitly in megastar, more in a queer platonic sense. I like the idea of them occasionally cuddling in bed ever so often because they liked it so much when they were forced to share a berth. Plus Starscream has too much trauma from Megatron to engage with him in a healthy romantic relationship I would think. If we assume this near the end of the series and he's still an overlord.

I just kinda want to just put this out into the world to see if anyone does anything with this. I think it's an interesting idea and I want to see what people do with it.

[cmdrfupa]

III. Marubo (マル暴・まるぼう)

Yakuza or police who investigate the yakuza. Used by police as a code word for the yakuza, and used by yakuza in reference to investigators

All CW and chapters can be found here.

I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

4.7k words

The office at the top floor of the club pulsed with low bass from the floor below, dimly lit by amber sconces that framed long shadows that danced like apparitions across the lacquered table. Hiromi sat at the head of said table, pristine in his tailored black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to expose the gold watch on one wrist and a thin link bracelet on the other. His eyes were sharp as he scanned the documents in front of him then up at the gathered men that sat around the table.

When his presence was needed at the club, Hiromi despised being there for any longer than he needed to be. The American inspired nightclub his father was adamant about opening was too busy on the eye and the ears for him personally.

He didn’t need a crystal backdrop to commemorate his evening out but according to his father, the patrons did.

‘Too much money and not enough sense to know what to do with it’ he always thought with each feature he would see placed in.

But tonight was a little different. It was in the air the moment he walked in.

He bought a round of drinks for some young business men and asked the DJ to play something that would make him feel like he was on vacation.

He didn’t expect Nujabes, but he wasn’t going to complain.

"Someone has been talking," he spoke plainly, voice calm, almost casual. He gently placed the folder down on the table,"Feeding scraps to the authorities and whispering in the ears of men who’d rather see us dead."

The silence that followed was thick. No one moved.

"I'm giving you all a chance,”

He looked around the table. Younger and older men. Years of loyalty tied to the Higuruma name and yet it came to this. “Be honest, and maybe it ends with a clean cut."

Still, no one spoke. A few shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting to the corners of the room like answers might be found there.

Hiromi let out a quiet breath through his nose and slowly stood, the scrape of the chair legs sharp against the hardwood. He walked around the table, fingers brushing the back of each chair with a quiet deliberateness. When he stopped behind someone old enough to know better, everyone was surprised.

"Kenji."

Kenji stiffened. "Boss—"

"I know who you met Tuesday night. And now you get to tell your brothers who also.”

Kenji tried to speak again, but Hiromi had already drawn the short blade from his waist, pressing it with eerie gentleness against the man’s shoulder.

"Loyalty isn't just a word we use around here," Hiromi expressed. "It’s a debt. A bond. And you broke it. Why?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from someone else at the table, but no one dared intervene.

Then, Hiromi’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He paused, slid the blade back into its sheath, but held Kenji by his tie and pulled out his phone.

Your name lit up the screen.

His tone shifted the moment he answered, voice warm. "Hello. Everything okay?"

"Hey," you replied, your voice soft, unaware of what you'd interrupted. "Everything is okay. I just wanted to see if you still want to meet early for breakfast tomorrow to finalize some things or push it back a little?"

Hiromi turned away from the table slightly, giving you more of his attention, though his foot pressed down on Kenji’s chair, pinning him in place. "Early is fine. I like the quiet."

You chuckled lightly on the other end. "Of course you do. I also... wanted to apologize for my behavior at the church the other day. I didn’t intend on being so hostile but.. you do see how someone could be a bit pissy after you don’t respond to their emotional tell all, right?”

Behind him, one of the other men placed a plastic tarp over the floor without a word.

“I do. And I apologize for being such a piece of work in that department. We can discuss this more in the morning.”

"Fair enough,” your end of the call went silent before you spoke up again. Did you eat tonight?" you asked.

Hiromi gave a small smile. "Not yet. Busy with something, but I’ll be sure to get something in me before it gets too late."

You didn’t question it. You rarely did. "Okay. I’ll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight."

He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket, rolling up his sleeves fully now.

When he turned around, his expression was a different thing altogether. Cold. Unapologetic.

“I would like everyone to listen to me, please." he said to the others. They sat up in their chairs, Hajime grinning as he watched closely from the corner.

Hiromi skillfully pulled his blade out as he slammed Kenji’s head to the table. “Hand out and on the table please.”

Kenji knew it was better to just do it, but he had to try.

“Hiromi, please. I wasn’t trying to do anything to hurt you or the family--”

“Hand, Kenji,” Hiromi removed his own hand from the nape of the older mans neck, letting him sit up. No one dared look him in the eye as he tried to find some sort of sign that he wasn’t alone.

“I didn’t say any names, I promise you. They were asking about my affiliation and wanted to know what I knew about the stabbing near the fish market.”

Hiromi rested his hip against the dark table. “Mind if I get a cigarette?”

Trembling, Kenji reached into his jacket pocket and held the gold engraved cigarette holder out for Hiromi.

He took one, placing it between his lips before catching Kenji’s hand, squeezing it before slamming it on the table.

“You allowed them to tap your phone,” Hiromi placed the blade at the first line of Kenjis pinkie. “They had access to each and every one of your points of contact since you decided that befriending and talking shop with an informant in Gakuganji’s camp was critical. He used your fucking phone and tapped it.”

A plea so desperate, and almost child like, filled the room before Kenji gave up on trying to wriggle out of Hiromi’s hold. “Please, forgive me, big brother.”

The unlit cigarette hung from Hiromi’s mouth as he looked into Kenji’s eyes. “My mother is now a target. My father would’ve had you killed.”

Without looking, the knife came up, then down in an instance. A pain ridden yelp left the victims throat as his whole pinky disconnected smoothly from the rest of the hand, rolling to the edge of the table.

"Let this remind everyone, including veterans, of what disloyalty costs." His voice was balanced, even. He pulled out a dark handkerchief and expertly bandaged Kenji’s finger up gingerly, a solemn, almost saddened expression as he patted Kenji’s shoulder. “Not just flesh for your behavior. But a sign to the world that you can’t be trusted.”

_____

The bathroom light hummed gently, the soft glow of the white ceiling lights washed over the marble counter tops as steam curled lazily from your recently used sink.

You dipped your middle finger into a jar of toner, dabbing onto your forehead then cheeks before working it into your skin in upward circles the way your dear friend Mei Mei taught you. It was part of your routine, a grounding ritual. And yet tonight, it did nothing to settle the weight twisting low in your stomach.

The phone was still sitting on your bed after you tossed it and the screen was dim. But it honestly could’ve been on fire at this point. You stared at it through the mirror like it was in the middle of judging you.

“Did you eat tonight?” you muttered to your reflection, mocking yourself as your lips twitched into a bitter smile. “Asked if he’d eaten like some worried housewife.”

A quiet laugh escaped you—dry, borderline embarrassed. “What am I doing?”

You leaned forward, letting the toner set in as you picked up serum, pumping a few squirts of your mucin into your palm as you met your own eyes in the mirror. “I’m supposed to be upset about this whole thing. I should hate this man. I basically told him to fuck off not even a week ago.” You patted the clear, viscous serum into your skin. “Like actually I’ve been traded like a bargaining chip, and I still called to check on him while he’s probably fucking some hooker?”

Your reflection didn’t answer, of course. It just looked back at you with tired eyes and a smudge of guilt on your brow.

“He must think I’m losing my mind.” You scoffed, grabbing your fan and fanning your face to expedite the absorption on your skin. “Maybe I am. Or maybe he’s just... getting under--.”

The fan froze in your hands for a moment. You didn’t want to finish that thought.

It would’ve been easier if Hiromi was cold, cruel, or even condescending. But he wasn’t. He was quiet. Attentive. That soft-spoken calm that unnerved you more than any raised voice ever could. Like he was always thinking five steps ahead. Like he already knew how this was going to end—and you weren’t sure whether you were being led or protected.

You wiped your hands and shuffled out to your room, throwing yourself into bed, phone still beside you, heart beating a little too fast for your liking.

“You called him.”

The words whispered back at you like a dare.

The café Hiromi chose wasn’t loud or flashy like you expected. It was tucked away on a quiet street corner, the kind of place where conversations were kept low and the scent of freshly baked bread softened the sharp edges of the morning.

You stepped inside and spotted him immediately. Hiromi sat near a window near the back of the space, a pot of tea already on the table, steam curling in lazy tendrils around him. He looked... calm. Unbothered. As if neither of you were tangled up in the mess of circumstances that brought you here.

He stood when he saw you, that small, polite smile touching the corner of his mouth. You hated how instinctively you noticed how he looked today — dark slacks, a crisp white shirt with a black, slim tie, sleeves neatly rolled up to his forearms, a simple watch glinting at his wrist. Every inch of him controlled and calculated, yet somehow entirely effortless.

"Good morning," he greeted you, voice low, the same even tone he always used. A small, unreadable light flickered in his eyes as you reached the table. He offered a light dip of his head.

The faintest shadow of fatigue had seeped in under his sharp eyes. As if he hadn't slept much or not at all, but wore it better than anyone should.

"Morning," you echoed, sliding into the chair. Your voice was neutral but you weren’t sure your eyes could hide how conflicted you felt.

Hiromi poured you tea without asking, the gesture smooth and automatic. You hated how thoughtful it was. Breakfast was light — miso soup, grilled fish, tamagoyaki — traditional, simple, respectful.

Hiromi plated your food and placed it in front of you. “I apologize if it isn’t enough or too much.” He began to place a few pieces of grilled fish onto his own plate. “If I need to make any adjustments, let me know.”

You looked down at your plate, “Thank you. This should be fine.”

He kept conversation easy. Your posture gave off you’d only give one word answers and he knew to keep it easy. Asking if you slept well, if your dress fittings are coming along to your liking. Small talk, polite and inoffensive. It irritated you and comforted you all at once.

At some point, while you lifted a spoon of soup to your lips hesitantly, he tilted his head slightly and broke the intermittent silence, "Thank you for calling last night."

The words stunned you more than you wanted to admit. You looked at him, finding no sarcasm or mockery in his face. Just a quiet sort of sincerity that you didn’t know what to do with.

You nodded once, quickly, and turned back to your soup.

“I’d been having a fairly rough night. Late call to fix a problem at one of the clubs had me awake far longer than I liked.”

  You didn’t reply. Instead, you slurped your soup, smiling, feeling a humiliating flame of fire in the pit of your stomach as he talked. ‘You could always tell him you don’t care. You’ve told a man that before’

  a small, almost imperceptible smile was perched onto your face as you brought your mug to your lips.

  Imperceptible to everyone but Hiromi.

  A dimple formed at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

  “If you do almost hate me, that phone call said otherwise to me personally. But what do I know.”

   Unsettling. Completely unsettling.

__

Itadori drove you to the ring fitting which left for no kind off reprieve or word if you did in fact want to speak with Hiromi. Itadori had something to talk about for every second that passed in the car.

  Pulling into a private entrance, the car came to a stop and Hiromi made gentle haste with getting out to get the door for you. Your low heels clacked against the gravel as you approached blacked double doors at his side. The jewelry store was tucked inside an older discreet studio, all clean lines and warm lighting as the receiving room smelled of warm jasmine and gardenias.

  The jeweler, an older man with nimble fingers and sharp eyes, greeted you both warmly. You were led to a small lounge where velvet trays were brought out, glittering with pieces made of gold, precious stones, and platinum cut so precisely they almost looked fake.

  You sat on the furthest end of the couch. Hiromi sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, but he didn’t crowd you. His hands rested on his knees, relaxed and patient while you placed your bag across your knee.

  “I can take that for you?”

You eyed the dark haired young man who approached you from a desk near the wall. “I’d rather keep my belongings with me, thank you.”

He nodded, walking backwards before turning to head back down the hallway.

  “Kamo-sama. Thank you for seeing us so quickly.” Hiromi gave another subtle head bow.

  Kamo smiled, sitting a warm kettle on the small table near you all before he came to take a seat.

  “Its a pleasure, Hiromi. The news of your marriage has spread like wildfire. Which,” Kamo bowed his head slightly in your direction. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Hiromi nodded once and then gestured toward you, offering your name with a quiet, respectful lilt. The jeweler beamed at you like you were royalty and proceeded with showcasing the jewelry on the table before you.

  “While he has already created your wedding ring, this will be the accessories you can choose from for your traditional ensemble.”

  You looked over at Hiromi, “I want to see it. My ring.”

  Hiromi didn’t tear his eyes away from yours as he slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved an emerald green velvet box. He flipped the lid then placed it on the table.

  “You’ll need to try it on in case adjustments need to be made.”

  The ring was... beautiful. A perfect blend of traditional design with subtle modern detail. The gold band curved like silk around your finger, neither flashy nor plain, just intentional. It fit too well — and something about that irritated you more than it should have.

  You tilted your hand in the light and feigned a quiet gasp. “Oh,” you said, softly. “You really have been listening to my mother.”

  Hiromi raised a brow, catching the teasing edge tucked in your voice. “I take her words seriously,” he replied smoothly. “She has very strong opinions when it comes to design.”

You glanced at him in the mirror that sat on the table, letting your smile sharpen just a touch. “And what about my opinions?”

He was quiet for a moment — not caught off guard, but considering. “I’d like to think I’ve paid attention to those too.”

You hummed, twisting the ring slowly around your finger, letting your shoulder brush just slightly against his as you stood up from the couch. “Careful. Saying things like that might give a girl ideas.”

Hiromi’s lips curved — a small, patient smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What kind of ideas?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you walked slowly around the room, pausing at a nearby display case. You traced a fingertip along the glass and shrugged lightly. “That you actually care how I feel about all of this.”

He watched you from where he stood, hands folded neatly in front of him. “Would it be so bad if I did? Though you’re the one who called me so I think you care more than you lead on.”

That stopped you. The air shifted — not heavy, not cold. Just... still. He hadn’t said it like a threat. He’d said it like he meant it.

You looked down at the ring again and gave a soft, ambiguous laugh. “Don’t be fooled. I just know how to play the part.”

Hiromi’s gaze didn’t waver. “Good. Because so do I.”

-

Kamo thanked you both profusely as you left, offering blessings for your union and bowing until you disappeared through the door.

Outside, the day had brightened as afternoon approached. The golden sunlight filtered through the narrow streets, and just ahead, a tucked-away shrine garden waited in silence.

“I thought you might like some fresh air before we go our separate way for the day.” Hiromi said quietly, nodding toward it.

You said nothing, but followed him up the stone path. The shrine was modest, ringed by mossy steps and lanterns, with a small koi pond tucked beneath the trees. Cicadas buzzed gently in the distance, and the quiet rustle of leaves felt almost sacred.

You walked a few steps ahead, letting the silence stretch, pretending not to care when you felt his gaze on your back.

“I know you’re still deciding what to make of all this,” he said suddenly, his voice low behind you.

You turned halfway, arms folded lightly. “You don’t say.”

“I’m not asking you to pretend,” he continued. “But I’m not pretending either.”

There it was again — that quiet steadiness. The unnerving calm. You didn’t know what to say, so you looked away first.

He stepped beside you, pausing at the edge of the pond. A gold band you hadn’t noticed before was now sitting on his left ring finger.

“I think the ring looks good on you,” he said, softer this time.

You scoffed lightly, turning your face away. “That makes one of us.”

But your hand didn’t move to take it off.

And his eyes didn’t leave your face until the approaching car signaled him to turn away.

The room was beautiful. That was undeniable.

Warm lighting spilled from chandeliers like liquid honey, catching on crystal glassware and the delicate folds of white linen draped across long banquet tables. A soft quartet played in the corner, the melody polite and inoffensive. Laughter buzzed under the music — warm, familiar, expectant. It was all perfect. Exactly the kind of rehearsal dinner your mother would plan.

Three days.

Three days until the wedding. Until your family would finally call themselves whole again. whatever that meant. Until the promises you never made, but were forced to keep, became permanent.

Everything felt dulled lately. The days passed, one bleeding into the next. Your body moved, dressed itself, smiled on cue. But inside, you were distant. Suspended.

Hiromi has made himself sparse trying to finish getting your home prepared for your move in and arranging for your things to be moved.

It made your continuously confusing feelings a little easier to sort through knowing he was at least fours away for 2 days.

You stood near the edge of the room closest to the garden entry, barely listening as polite laughter drifted from the patio. A glass of untouched champagne in your hand, chilled against your fingers. You felt eyes on you all night — your mother's, your father’s, his father's. Measuring your posture. Your smile. Your compliance.

Then, a shadow crossed into your peripheral vision.

"Kento-san is asking for you," a voice said behind you. One of Hiromi’s quiet attendants.

You turned slowly. Across the room, Kento waited near the opposite garden doors, hands clasped behind his back like always, expression unreadable.

Hiromi stood beside him. He met your gaze, gave you a slight nod before turning to go back into the venue. Not permission. Not possession. Not quite. But it still made your stomach twist.

You made your way to the doors and followed Kento outside.

The silence between you was comfortable at first, like it always had been. The cool air kissed your skin, brushing away the warmth and suffocation of the reception.

"Beautiful night," Kento said softly, as you both walked beneath a canopy of wisteria blooms strung with fairy lights.

You didn’t answer.

He waited a few beats before glancing at you. "You look tired."

"I'm fine."

"You don’t look fine."

The words weren’t cruel, but they cut like they were meant to. You stopped walking, your heels sinking slightly into the grass as you turned to face him.

"You dragged me out here to tell me I look like shit?"

"No," Kento said. "I dragged you out here to ask why the hell you’re letting this happen."

There it was.

You blinked, your throat tightening. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he said, tone even. "You’re marrying into a family with blood on their hands. A man you barely know. You don’t look in the mirror anymore. You barely make time to do anything. And you flinch every time someone mentions your future.”

You swallowed. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you’ve convinced yourself you don’t have a choice,” Kento said. "That playing the good daughter is your duty. That this is noble. It’s not."

You turned away, pretending to focus on a lantern swaying in the breeze.

“Do you hate him?” Kento asked.

You hesitated.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Sometimes I think I do. But it’s not really him I’m angry at.”

“Then who?”

You laughed, bitter and small. “Everyone. Myself. My father. The whole damn arrangement.”

Kento stepped closer. “You don’t owe them your life just because they broke it and glued it back together in the shape they wanted.”

You exhaled. “And what do I do? Run away? Disgrace my family? End up dead in a ditch somewhere because I spat in the face of a deal that saved them?”

Kento’s expression didn’t change. “If it ever comes to that,” he said, voice low and even, “I’ll handle it. But don’t lie to yourself while you still have time to make a different choice.”

You looked at him. Then really looked.

"You really think I'd be safer running?"

"I think you'd be happier not bleeding yourself dry for a name that isn’t yours to carry."

You stared at him for a long time, silence swelling again between you. But this time it wasn’t warm. It was sharp. Raw.

“I called him the other night. On a whim,” you murmured.

Kento’s brow rose. “You?”

“I asked if he’d eaten.”

“You did?” he asked, clearly surprised.

You nodded. “He didn’t make a joke out of it. Just... answered. And thanked me.”

Kento’s jaw tightened. You could see the shift in his eyes, the way he masked his thoughts. But he didn’t speak.

“I don’t trust him,” you said, softer now. “But I don’t know if I’m supposed to.”

“You’re not.”

“But he listens.”

“That’s what good manipulators do.”

You looked down.

Kento reached for your hand, gently brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “I’ll be here, no matter what you choose. But I won’t lie and say I know this is a choice made with your heart.”

A beat passed.

“I know,” you whispered.

From inside, someone called your name.

You both turned toward the sound.

“Go,” Kento said.

You nodded, stepping past him — then pausing. You didn’t look back, but you said it anyway.

“Thank you.”

When you were gone, Kento remained under the wisteria, unmoving.

He knew what he saw in your eyes. You were opening up to the idea of being okay with this life.

And he hated it.

__

The drive home was quiet, almost too quiet. The low hum of the engine filled the space between you and Hiromi like fog. Streetlights passed in slow intervals through the tinted windows, creating long shadows over his profile.

He didn’t look at you.

You didn’t look at him either.

Your phone sat in your lap, screen dark, clenched a little too tightly between your fingers. The lingering echo of Kento’s words in the garden buzzed in the back of your head like a splinter you couldn’t reach.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting from Hiromi after that — silence, maybe. Or distance.

But instead, he spoke, voice placid, measured.

“If you’d prefer to live in separate homes after the wedding, I won’t oppose it.”

You blinked slowly, turning your head toward him.

His eyes remained on the road. "And, if you’re already involved with someone else, I won't interfere. I’m not here to police your personal life. Not unless you want me to.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a pressure point.

You inhaled slowly, your gaze narrowing. “That’s an odd thing to say.”

He glanced at you now, briefly. There was something unreadable in his face, something like calculated concern.

"Is it?"

“Yes.”

Hiromi gave a faint shrug, like it didn’t matter. “You’ve made it clear I’m not wanted. I'm simply offering solutions.”

Your jaw tensed. “You’ve been talking to someone.”

“I’ve had... conversations. Listening to more than talking to,” he said smoothly. “With people who seem to care a great deal about your safety and comfort.”

He didn’t say Kento’s name.

He didn’t need to.

You turned away, watching the city blur past through the window. “And what did this caring person tell you?”

Hiromi didn’t answer right away. “That you're unhappy. That you feel trapped. That you may already have someone who treats you the way you deserve.”

You scoffed under your breath. “And you just believed them?”

"No," he reassured, voice softer now. “But I listened. Which is more than most people in your life seem to have done.”

The car slowed as it turned onto the next street. A sharp pang hit your chest before you could bury it again.

“So what is this?” you asked. “An exit clause? Guilt relief?”

Hiromi finally looked at you fully, his expression still maddeningly composed.

“It’s me giving you your power back that I have seemingly taken from you,” he said. “If you don’t want this, if you want a partner who lets you go where your heart wants, I’ll make that possible.”

You stared at him, stunned silent.

The car came to a gentle stop.

Your family home.

Hiromi got out of the car and quickly walked around to open yours.

A thread of something unreadable found its way into his tone as he walked you to your front door.

“But if you decide to stay, I’ll be your husband in full. Not a placeholder. Not a villain. Not a man you have to hide from.”

You didn’t move right away. He didn’t push.

“Good night,” he took a step back, bowing his head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You watched him walk back to the car and lean against it as he waited for you to go into the house.

Realizing what he was doing, you made haste with going inside just to look out the window.

As the car pulled away, you realized something cold was curling in your stomach. It wasn’t fear, not resentment. Something like... dread.

Because for the first time, Hiromi hadn’t sounded like he was playing along just to satisfy you anymore.

He sounded like he meant it.

[pixelfont52]

earthbound

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

the problem of coming from the high octane shipwar hell of ff7twt to being a ride or die for two white, straight people that i insist are in a metaphorically gayer relationship than a mixed-race married straight couple is that i'm so shipwarbrained that the only basis i consume media through is how much emotional torment can i go through by choosing the less-liked romantic pairing and talking about how stupid it is that they're less liked because the story clearly likes them more and it's just the dipshit fans who have a problem with it. also no one cares about what i'm saying so it makes me feel very stupid for saying it but i can't help that the only media i like is either about people whose lives suck so much they end up killing themselves or about two people loving each other through the worst experiences of their lives collectively. like what's even the point of life if i can't romanticize it.

[commsroom]

Happy birthday! I have a bit of a strange question but it is Eiffel-related so:

How much (if any) of his personality do you think would be intact post-memory wipe? (Not in the sense of how much would he choose to keep, I mean what parts of him would the memory wipe not get rid of, given that it didn’t wipe his muscle memory, knowledge of English, etc)

this is such a difficult question because, like... as much as i like to speculate about it, there's no real answer re: what wolf 359 defines as "memory" in the first place. like you said, he remembers so much stuff that should be tied to memory - not just his knowledge of english but like, broadly... the concepts and context and consequences for those words and the things he encounters. he understands the weight of what he did back on earth, etc. and that makes the line of "memory" and "information" kind of fuzzy, in a whole bunch of different ways that would also apply to, like... what part of "personality" is inherent, and what part is determined by things we'd classify as memory? how much of personality is flexible and relational, anyway?

and we don't have much to go on re: how he behaves post memory wipe, either, like... there's not much of the show after that; we don't see him in Situations (tm) at all. and he might have different reactions to similar things, depending on other factors, even with his memory! but, like... there's not much to compare or contrast.

with that said: so much of how eiffel communicates is filtered through pop culture - it's not even on purpose, that's just... how his brain works, how he makes connections. everything else aside, i think it's completely understandable he would seem quieter if the primary framework he communicates through is suddenly no longer accessible to him. even if he doesn't consciously know what he's missing, there has to be a gap between what he intends and what he can say, and that has to be frustrating. the context is different, but when he's feeling bad for himself around constructive criticism and doesn't make any pop culture references for a week - that's similarly "uncharacteristic" in how unusually quiet and reserved he seems. for perspective.

short version: "personality" is hard to define, but i think whatever makes eiffel "eiffel" is still intact, whatever that means. i think he still remembers how he feels about things, on some level, even if the memories those feelings are attached to are inaccessible. i think he probably either has or will develop the same values and preferences and sense of humor and annoying habits, but even if his interior world is very similar to what it was before, people might think he's different because he can't communicate those ideas the same way, and that potentially creates a feedback loop where he also feels he must be different than he was. but, over time... i mean, i do think eiffel will get his memories back at some point, but even before that... i think just being exposed to stuff will gradually lessen that gap for him anyway.

[porcalinecunt]

Can i pls request some face sitting headcanons for bllk guys? Specifically Sae, Rin, Shido, Oliver and Bachira solely because i think they're the nastiest 😆🫣 thank God!

𝐒𝐈𝐓.

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ face sitting with blue lock boys! ~

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐒𝐀𝐄 & 𝐑𝐈𝐍. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔. 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑. 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀.

cw — gn!reader. afab!reader. so much oral sex. edging. overstimulation. spanking. spitting. squirting. full on tongue fucking. denied orgasms. pervy behavior. shidou being an animal.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : FUCK—this too me way too long to finish, but here it is! apologies nonnie for taking forever ;-;

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

slow n steady always wins the race. a motto sae keeps firm when it comes to sex, no matter what he’s doing. when it comes to oral though..god. the agonizing drag of his tongue while he holds you by your hips, moving them against his mouth as he kissed your sensative clit before prodding his tongue against your hole. everytime you try to speed up your pace, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips and waist to keep you in your place. he might as well be edging the fuck out of you until you finally feel the knot snap in two and gush all over your boyfriend’s mouth. sae, bedroom eyes and all, would admire your fucked out face and trembling body before flipping you onto your back and continuing where he left off. safe to say, you aren’t getting out of his grip until you squirted every last drop.

“s-sae..quit being a tease..” you stuttered, trying your hardest not to buck your hips. if it wasn’t for sae’s strength, you would’ve gone wild and full on rode his face like a madman. his whole arms wrapped around your thighs, gripping tighter then usual while he switched from your clit to your sensitive pussy. sae’s sharp, jade eyes staring up at yours. his pupils were blown with a burning desire all too clear to you, as if his tongue movements didn’t say enough. god, he was a patient one and it was getting on your last nerves. a thought he promptly smacked you out of with a simple strike to the ass.

“paitience, darling. or i’ll leave you like this, i can’t stand whiny whores who get greedy.”

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

rin is more needier then his older brother, encouraging your carnal desires and egging you on as you rode his face as fast n hard as you please. the guy was basically making out with your cunt, open mouthed kisses and his tongue prying through your pussy had you gripping on the headboards or his hair. his hands roamed your body as he pleased, tracing his fingers against your stomach up to your sensitive nipples where he pinched and squeezed between his fingertips. don't think he'll stop either! long after you squirt all over his mouth, he'll only pull away just to take one long look at your fucked out face before he dives right back in again. rin gets pussydrunk a bit too easily, but why complain?

“rin..m-more, please..! i need more!” you begged and pleaded with a whine ripped straight from the jugular as you grinding your pussy against your boyfriend’s mouth. rin cracked open his eyes, through the blurred chaos, he admired your fucked out expression as you clung onto the wooden headboard for dear fuckin’ life. it was all too addictive to simple get off, how desperate and downright pussydrunk this man was, it’d be too cruel to pull away now! your thought process only strengthened when rin began to tug away at your sensative and soaked nipples from when he was mouthing at them earlier. he simply couldn’t get enough.

“stay with me..please, fuck! jus’ a little more, you can do that for me? please..?”

₊˚ෆ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈

so much of a sloppy eater, it’s downright disgusting. shidou’s hands are unpredictable, switching from caressing and squishing the soft flesh of your ass to swatting away at it with quick strikes. don’t get me started on his oral anticts. this man is fucking eating away at your poor pussy, flicking his tongue against your sore clit while suckin’ n kissing at your abused hole. you couldn’t even move your hips with how much he’d just forced you down onto his mouth again, thus you had to sit there and simply take what he gives you, and god, the noises. besides your own moans and sobs for him to slow down, shidou’s downright animalistic growls and groans fill your ears and go straight into your cunt. don’t think he’s done either after you squirt into his mouth, oh no no! he’ll only push you onto your back with the hopes of you crushing his head with your thighs. he can’t get enough of you.

“haah..ah..r-ryu..” was all you could mutter out of your sore throat. after much whining and sobbing from the overstimulation, you could only make small noises of pleasure while shidou ate away like a man on death row. lapping up the remains of your last orgasm, he pried and pried at your hole until you swore he was tongue fucking you. grabbing fist fulls of his blonde hair only fueled the maniac to fuckin’ nip at your clit, an action that forced another intense orgasm out of your abused cunny and soaked his face even more then before. you could feel a smirk form of his lips before he landed a barrage of sharp slaps onto the flesh of your ass, dragging you out of your euphoric afterglow in time to feel his tongue pushing itself back in.

“c’mon sugar, don’t lose me now! we’re just getting started..! now, keep those pretty legs open..”

₊˚ෆ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

mister aiku here pays attention to both puss and ass with glee. when he told you to sit on his face, he meant it. there's nowhere that his mouth didn't touch, meaning you couldn't run from this man either. similar to shidou, he eats like a starved animal in front of a piece of meat. fingers pumping you full while he pays special attention to your poor clit with the occasional nips that would have you mewling and whining like a bitch in heat. but sadly, he's a greedy bastard when it comes to sex, pulling away right before you could have you sweet orgasm. heterochrome eyes staring daggers at your fucked out face while you pleaded for him to let you cum. you were almost in tears when oliver finally stuffed your twitching cunt with his fingers once again and went to town on your clit again. did i mention he pays attention to ass? that poor thing was covered in handprints and crecent shaped dents from how hard he was grabbing it. maybe, even a little bite mark for good measure.

“oliverrrr!” you whined out. "let me cum already! pleasee!" through tears, you could still see that bastard's shit eating grin. he was fucking enjoying this, getting off at your desperation while you bucked your hips at nothing. down there, oliver was enjoying the show he put together for himself and himself alone. his thumb ghosting over your neglected clit, his eyes flicking up to your own, pleading ones. you looked like a kicked puppy who didn’t get it’s owner’s attention, just like how oliver liked you. a shit eating grin stretched across his lips as he promptly gave your ass a hard slap before finger fucking your cunny at a furious pace. the noises it made sounded straight out of a porno as the pro player flicked his tongue around your clitty. it was all too much to handle at once, or so you claimed. you knew damn well oliver could see right through your teary eyes, and sniff out your disgusting, whorish fantasy.

“keep cryin’ like that and i’ll stop again, you hear me? i know you can pretty thing..i fuckin’ know you can.”

₊˚ෆ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

what a pervert, a proud one at that too! he couldn’t keep his grabby hands to himself all day, something the grew more and more dangerously obvious as the day went on. sneaky hands up your skirt or down your pants, gentle squeezes on your inner thighs inching too close to your wet cunt. the final straw was when you caught him trying to look up your skirt/down your loose pants. dragging him all the way home where he couldn’t even wait to get to the bed and pushed you against the wall, kneeling in front of you while patting his cheek eagerly. clinging onto whatever door frame or counter was nearby as bachira pressed open mouthed, tongue heavy kisses against your spread pussy. he was a messy eater as well, going as far as to even spit on your cunny before diving back in with the intention of drowning in your juices. bachira was full on obsessed. nothing could tear him away from your cunny, no matter how hard you yanked his hair or tried to push his head away. he’ll always come back for more!

“o-oh god..bachira, baby..!” you sighed, clasping a hand over your mouth in a feeble attempt to not alarm the neighbors. bachira quickly noticed and yanked your hand away, staring up at you with the same crazed look he had all day. he didn’t tear his eyes off of you, forcing to maintain eye contact with him as he licked and macked with your ruined cunt. your knees felt weaker and weaker, probably because of the last orgasms your monster of a boyfriend gave you, yet he just refuses to quit! not the stinging pain of you gripping his hair or even your efforts to straight up push him away so he doesn’t suffocate to death in your pussy. bachira, in retaliation, forced your wrists against the wall and gives your cunt a mean spat. you flinched in shock, watching as he simply goes back to eating you out like a madman. fuck, thank god you made it home in time.

“don’t shy away from me! i’m only getting started, my love..don’t you want me to please you? hm?”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us (2) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 2 (7.2k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1

Tradition is not something you are fond of.

It’s something forced on you. When you question it, it’s offensive–how dare you question these things, made sacred over time? Why would you want to betray thousands of years of history? Time makes it definitive. Your being makes it natural. You submit because that is the natural thing to do, so in that sense, you submit to it all.

That is your duty. That is your calling. When you are claimed, you belong to them. You are property. Autonomy be damned–your place is on your knees, keeping your mouth shut, and any behavior against that is nothing short of a punishable offense, proper. Disobedient omegas make for troublesome households.

To keep you in line, you must be held at a short length from your alpha. It is what is done. It is what is expected.

Tradition.

Simon keeps a hand on you, curled at the base of your spine as he leads you back to where the sleeping quarters are. You know it’s for your protection, but the better part of you wants to smack him off of you whenever you feel his palm press just slightly against you. When you make it back into your room, Simon pauses in the doorway after he opens it for you. He looks nervous almost, sheepish. You turn to face him, looking him up and down. “You can come in if you want. I’m not gonna carry all my stuff by myself, you could probably carry a fucking tank looking at you.”

Simon finally comes inside, ducking his head a little to make it in. You know this room wasn’t meant to house an alpha, but it’s still startling to see him do it, taking up way too much space to be anything but claustrophobic. He watches as you pack your things, stuffing your clothes into your bags and picking up small trinkets around the bedside table and desk. After the bag starts to get heavy, you shove it into his arms as you look towards the bed. It’s a standard issue twin-sized, with barely enough sheets to keep you warm and a lumpy pillow that you hate. You make a face at it before turning around and putting more things into Simon’s arms as you empty the closet.

“Tha’ it?” Simon mutters, still able to peek over the mountain of items that he holds, and you shrug.

“That’s it.”

Simon’s own room is like a hospital room. It’s too clean–there’s nothing personal anywhere, no pictures or barely any clothes other than military issue fatigues. The only civilian clothes he has wouldn’t even make you think twice if you saw him in a bar–Simon will always look like a soldier, through and through, and his room stinks like it. It smells clinical, and nothing about it is cozy or warm. You stand in the middle of the room as Simon puts your things down. You ring your hands together nervously, eyeing the bed with one single, thin sheet on it. It’s too small of a bed for the both of you. It’s too small of a bed just for Simon–you don’t want to think about the kind of sleeping arrangements you’ll need to fit with him on it.

“Wot’s wrong?” Simon asks lowly. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s putting your things into the closet. He’s divided it in half already, and some of your clothes are already hung up next to his. You look back at the bed, pursing your lips.

“There’s not enough blankets,” you say softly. “A-And…And the pillows, here, I don’t like them.”

Simon turns back to your bag, picking up another shirt to hang. You glare at the back of him. It doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t erupt in flames like you might have hoped, but it does give you a moment to notice how well those jeans fit him.

Fuck. Keep it together.

“I’ll get you more blankets,” he shrugs. “And a different pillow.”

The answer is immediate. No fuss. You want to complain, to bite back at him for it, but you don’t know how you would explain your displeasure. You’re looking for a reason to tell your omega that she’s a scheming, hopeless, naïve little shit.

“...I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” Isn’t that what he had said? Isn’t that what he had said when he gripped you by the throat and made you realize that everything you had thought about alphas was true? Hadn’t he already shown you that none of them are redeemable?

Not Kate. Not John. Certainly not Simon–they’re all scheming, terrible fucking people, and you cannot wait until you can sink your teeth into Simon’s jugular and rip it out.

Belonging to, being one’s own, fuck if you care. Simon can claim ownership all he wants, but he’ll never tame you. Your omega might be pulling the strings at the moment, but you’re going through withdrawals, you think. Your medication was your lifeline. It kept you from falling off the tightrope, and you just need to learn how to stay upright without it. You can. When you get it back, when it’s in your hands again, she’ll understand.

She has to understand that only you know what’s good for you.

Simon places the rest of your things on his desk. A couple personal things, like your jewelry and some knickknacks, and then your bag with the rest of your clothes to be folded and put away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. At least before, you could pretend like things were still a little normal. You could pretend that in your own room, you were simply waiting for another assignment, that you were just waiting for Kate to give you a call and move you somewhere new, somewhere safer.

“Am I just supposed to stay here and wait for you?” You ask finally. Simon shuffles around the room. He doesn’t look at you; instead, he takes a seat at a desk way too small for him and spreads a few papers around, frowning when he reads something that he doesn’t like. “Is that…is that my job?”

“Dunno.” Simon takes his phone out of his pocket, and he starts typing. “Don’t really feel like babysittin’.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you tell him. “I…I have combat experience. I was in training before this.”

Simon snorts, still focused on his phone. He shakes his head a little.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Tha’s cute.”

Patronizing shit.

“I bet I can shoot a target ten times better than you,” you spit at him. His fingers hover over the screen for just a moment, irritated, before he goes back to typing. “And I can hold my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon puts his phone back into his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath before coming over to stand in front of you. You tip your head back, and he reaches down with a hand to cup under your jaw, holding you there. Just like that–your omega has you. You lean in, just that much. Simon sees it in your eyes, and he sniffs, looking you over.

Maybe he thinks you’re pathetic. In some sense, you agree with him, because what the fuck is wrong with me? You get one look into Simon’s eyes, and something chemical in you fires. You bend, and you relax, and you know if he asked you to open your mouth so he could spit in it, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to tell him no. It angers you and excites you all the same, and the conflicting flashes under your ribs bring tears to your eyes.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself for not being able to say no. You hate yourself for being everything they said you would be. You hate yourself for being nothing like you thought you were.

You’re soft. Sweet. All bark, no bite, a spiteful kitten that deep down, aims to please. The only thing that really baffles you, though, is why you only feel this way with Simon.

Is it because they told you that you were his mate? Is it because he’s done something, that he’s projecting some kind of scent? Has he already unknowingly changed your very makeup so your body knows that you are bound to him? When you look into John’s eyes, you see alpha. You see big, salivating dog, and if you could, you’d rip the hairs of his beard out just to see him in pain.

But Simon–it’s like you can’t move. Every time you look at him, and he looks at you, he holds you there. Just like now, he’s got you, and you feel like he can read everything you’re feeling. He’s being fed your secrets, and you hate him for it, but I can’t look away, please look away, please don’t make me–

“Need to get you somethin’ to eat,” Simon says finally. “And it’s time to meet the rest of the lot.”

Simon is starting to get used to keeping a hand on you. It annoys you a little, to feel his hand at your back, but the annoyance dissolves when you realize this base is filled with sneering alphas. They holler and yell, and they are very large and angry, but they still are small compared to Simon. They quiet whenever they walk past you, and even the whiff of omega doesn’t deter them with Simon behind you.

In the mess hall, you see Captain Price sitting at a table with two others. When you get closer to the table, you cough a little, stumbling back, and Simon catches you around the waist to hold you upright. The stench of alphas hits you like a truck, and Simon grunts as he tells you relax, fuckin’ hell.

You give him a hard stare–how the fuck would he know? There’s four alphas in your close vicinity, and they’re all puffing their chests and smiling, and it stings to smell them all at once. You turn your head a little to shield yourself, and when you filter everything else out but Simon, it frustrates you a little how much of him seems to calm you down.

Smells so good. Get closer. Press your nose to it, I-I want more–

“I see you two are getting along nicely,” John comments, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes a little, and when you lock eyes with him, you purse your lips and try to look anything but pleased. Simon guides you to sit down; he motions to the bench, just to the left of where someone else is already sitting–a big, burly soldier with crazy blue eyes. He has a terrible haircut, short along the sides with tufts of curls falling down the middle and over his forehead. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at his lieutenant behind you. Across from him, there’s another alpha with dark eyes and soft skin, and he’s smiling like an idiot around the rim of his plastic cup. You’re a little nervous–you had spent most of your time on your old base surrounded by betas who barely gave you a glance, and now you’re off your meds and being hit with a million different sensations everywhere you go. Simon’s touch on your back eases your shoulders a little.

“Tha’s Johnny,” Simon points to the one next to you. “Tha’s Gaz. ‘n I’m sure ya had the pleasure of our Captain.”

“Yeah, looks like your beard is still in tact, so glad to see it,” you say curtly, crossing your arms over your chest. The two sergeants laugh, ducking their heads, and John raises a brow before looking at Simon with a clenched jaw. Simon just shrugs, stretching his arm out on the back of your chair, and you get the feeling this happens often–John giving Simon that look, and Simon merely brushing it off. You smile to yourself a little, looking at Simon from over your shoulder. When you meet eyes, he stares back, looking over your face. He lingers on your lips for just a second too long before looking back up again.

I bet he tastes good under that mask. Let’s find out.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you blink. Your omega has never been inside of your head like this. You nearly opened your mouth and asked him for it, asked him please, please–let me taste, I won’t look, just let me taste you. You swallow her down a little, and you just nod to keep yourself moving. Simon stands up to make his way towards where the food is, and you watch curiously as instead of standing in line, he pushes open a door into the kitchen and disappears behind it.

“LT’s been gettin’ ye special meals,” Johnny says with a full mouth. You frown a little, and not just cause he’s chewing with his mouth a little too open.

“What do you mean?”

“He has the cooks make you somethin’ special,” Gaz says as he takes a sip of water. He leans back, smiling again, and it irks you a little. Alphas are brutes, disgusting big things with too many hormones, and you hate that this one gets to be pretty, too. Not that John or his sergeant aren’t attractive, but this one definitely enjoys a good mirror selfie, and it shows. “Something not on the menu. He didn’t like that you weren’t eating much, at the beginning. Made a fuss, and now he gets you better food.”

“He can do that?”

“Well, would ye say no to tha’ big man?” Johnny snorts, dipping his crusty bread in sauce. You look back towards the door, and Simon comes out holding a tray. He sets it down in front of you, and you bite your lip looking down at it. It smells so good, and you pick up your fork gently, sticking it into the pasta and twirling it. When you take a bite and sigh, Simon takes a seat next to you, and you can barely hear the sweet rumble in his chest of satisfaction.

Providing for you. Taking care of you. He’s so capable, isn’t he? Look at what he does for you.

If Simon notices you scoot closer to him, he doesn’t say anything. You don’t react either–it wasn’t a conscious choice.

Simon’s shower has hot water. Not that the showers you’d had were cold, but the communal showers were just that–communal. Shared, and although your escort always made sure you were the only one in there while you showered, it was still feeding off a water heater that always had barely any juice left. Lukewarm showers, so you tried to finish quick.

Simon’s shower turns the water scalding. You giggle with relief when you stand under it, letting it loosen your sore muscles and relieve your aching bones. It feels good, and you take a little longer in there, taking your time and enjoying the heat.

When it’s time to wash your body, you realize you’re missing your own soap. You look around for something else, noticing the unlabeled bottle that rests on a ledge. You squirt a pump of it into your palms, and when you raise it to your nose, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s the eucalyptus you smelled on Simon. A little plastic aftersmell, which you know is from whatever backwater dollar store the military buys it from, but on Simon, it smells so good. You lather it in your hands and hold it up to your nose, and you sigh deeply.

He’s just outside. Why don’t you call for him? I bet he’s listening. I bet he’s waiting for us.

You slide your hands down your arms. With the heat of the water, the whole bathroom starts to smell like it, and you let your hands slide down further, over your waist, between your thighs. When your fingers touch your puffy clit, you’re nearly jolted back into reality.

“Fuck–” You gasp, reaching for the level, shutting the water off. The last of the water curls down the drain, and you cough as you look around. You curl your toes, grounding yourself, and then you get out of the shower and reach for the towel. When you look into the mirror, your pupils are blown wide, and you feel like you don’t recognize yourself. You drop the towel and dress yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks.

Get your shit together.

When you open the bathroom door, Simon is back from his little errand he had run. He’s carrying a few blankets and a thick comforter, and there’s a few new pillows on the bed with it. You use the towel to keep drying the wet strands of your hair, and Simon turns around when he hears you walk in further.

You pass by him wordlessly as you reach the bed. You put your hands on the blankets that he put down, and you close your eyes when you feel how soft they are. Threaded cotton and fleece, lots of thick feathers in the comforter to make it nice and fluffy. When you turn to look over your shoulder, Simon does a terrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just staring at your ass in the little sleep shorts you’re wearing. You want to snap at him, but your omega pinches your tongue.

Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.

“So, what…” You clear your throat. “How are we supposed to sleep in that bed? T-Together?”

Simon tilts his head to the side. You start to despise the mask. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, not even a little, and after the rather joyous conversations you’ve had with Simon (barf), you can’t say you’re entirely excited to be in this close of a space with him.

“Don’t worry,” Simon murmurs. “I’ll be good.”

Oh, that totally makes you feel better.

Prick.

He makes you get into bed and turn facing the wall as he turns out the lights. He pulls at the edge of his mask uncomfortably, and you realize he doesn’t want you to see his fine. Fine, you think to yourself, throwing the sheets back with a huff, bet you’re fucking ugly mug would blind me anyways.

You cuddle under all the blankets, snuggling into the new pillow that sinks under your head. You hum gently, closing your eyes, and you aren’t able to see Simon rubbing his chest warmly as he watches you. He sucks on his teeth, not truly understanding what he feels, but knowing that it’s soothing the beast in him to take care of you.

It rattles him. Simon isn’t used to this. He’s not used to feeling like he doesn’t have control. He resisted this for so long. He tried so hard to fight, he said no to Kate over and over and over again.

Omegas to Simon were liabilities. To care was to have a target on your back. To be mated meant having something to lose.

Ask Price, is what he told her, ask the fuckin’ sergeants, anyone but me, but she wouldn’t hear it. It had to be him, it had to be, and then she locked him into a room with her, and she leveled with him.

She told him that you are special. That you are precious. That omegas like you don’t exist, that you are one in a single generation, and there isn’t anyone else in the world that will do except for him.

Price, married to the field. The sergeants, immature and might as well be titled barracks bunnies. But Simon–purebred, quiet, controlled. Terrified of himself and what he is. His unofficial pack that he defends with his entire being, that is the only alpha worth giving to you.

Kate had thought about it before. What it might be like to push the hair away from your neck and sink her teeth there. As easy as putting her signature to paper, she could have the CIA running laps to keep you protected, but she knew that wasn’t the life for her. It couldn’t be.

In every situation, Kate would have to choose that lesser evil, and in her world, it would mean her choice would unlikely be you.

Simon? Simon answered to no one. Unlike his sergeants, he cared little for authority; he wouldn’t blink twice saying no to his superior. Unlike his Captain, Simon didn’t mind choosing the bloody way out. He was the first with his finger on the trigger, and the last to sweep a room. Kate knew–if Simon had to choose between the greater good and the omega he claimed?

Fuck the greater good. That, she could count on.

If Kate only asked for one thing, it would be this. She did promise you. She promised she would keep you away from it all. She promised that she would make things right. She promised that she would protect you, but even Kate answers to others, and the reality of this kind of world is that the only way to really protect you was to give you away.

To put you into the same world that you had only begged to be kept away from.

Nobody likes playing matchmaker, but maybe putting together the most stubborn and angry people in the world might save you from yourselves. At least she hoped so.

You’re nearly asleep when you feel Simon come to bed. All the lights are off, and it’s pitch black in the room. There’s some shuffling around the room, and then you feel the blankets move. All of the sudden, a heat stronger than you’ve ever felt takes up the entire bed. Pressed against your back, a solid chest, and then a huge arm falls over your waist.

“We cuddling now?” You mumble sleepily, and Simon breathes out slowly, not responding. When you fall asleep, it’s unnervingly easy. Your omega purrs, digging her nails into you, and when you turn your head in the dark and feel the brush of his unmasked face against yours, she preens.

He’s right there–just a little taste. Just a little. Please, please, please–

Omegas cannot claim, but they can bite. It takes everything inside of you not to sink your teeth into him.

“You smell that? Smells like fuckin’ sweets, mates.”

You take off your headphones and safety glasses, looking over your shoulder. There’s a few recruits a few lanes down from you, wiggling their eyebrows and licking their lips. One of them crudely grabs his crotch, winking at you. You make a face.

Gross.

“Let me see you, baby. Smell so good.”

You holster the gun you’re holding, leaning against the counter with your hip. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you done?” You ask, and they take that as their cue to start walking closer. An invitation.

They don’t get very far. You smell him before you see him. On instinct, your shoulders relax with that whiff of charcoal. You push off the counter just in time for him to come up behind you, and you feel the heat of his chest as it presses against your back. The recruits in front of you stop immediately, and you feel a disgusting sense of satisfaction when Simon bends over your shoulder to look at you.

“‘n wot’s this?” Simon growls. You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know. They wanna have a dick-measuring contest, but I think they’re afraid they’re gonna lose,” you say. You let out an annoyed sigh, turning again to put your safety glasses on. You put the headphones back over your ears and take the gun out of your holster, turning the safety off as you line it up with the paper targets near the back of the course. “You know. Cause my dick is way bigger.”

You unload the clip just for fun. You’re supposed to be practicing on accuracy, which for you meant slower, spaced-out shots to try and hit the same spot over and over, but the sound of the gun going off again and again helps distract you from the laughing, untrained dogs that are littered across the shooting range.

When you put the gun down after emptying the magazine, Simon is salivating. The paper target head is obliterated, each bullet almost next to its last. When you turn around, Simon tilts his head to the side. You holster the gun, starting to walk, and Simon lets his eyes drop to the sway of your hips as you pass by him. It’s not a conscious decision, the way his fingers curl into fists and squeeze hard.

“Told you,” you say to him. “Huge dick, right, baby?”

Something flares in Simon’s chest when he hears it. Like a switch, his legs start moving, following you, and when he passes by a recruit that is standing much too close to you, Simon shoves the recruit back so hard, they smack their nose against the wall and curses from the impact, blood dripping under their bruised nose.

The rest of the day, you don’t see another rookie walk even five feet into your vicinity. Even without a mark on your neck, you are claimed, and right before you leave your room for dinner, Simon is fitting a dark hoodie over your head. The smell overwhelms you. It’s soaked in his scent, and you turn to face him, looking at him suspiciously. Your omega keeps you from questioning him. She wants you to start walking, because she knows he’ll touch you when you do.

It’s that night that Simon asks John for you to join them. All Simon does is slide the shredded paper target across his desk. John picks it up, tacking it onto the wall. He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s an impressive piece of paper, but being a good shot isn’t the only reason someone is cleared to work with them. Even besides that, it’s forbidden.

“Omegas aren’t allowed in the field, Simon,” John reminds him. “You know that.”

“Think tha’s why we should take her,” Simon mutters. “She’s a distraction. A good one.”

“A weapon,” John frowns. He can already hear Kate screaming into his ear if she ever saw you geared up between them on an op.

“A tool.”

“And what does she think of that, eh?” John slips his hat off, tossing it onto his desk. He sighs, running a hand over his beard, and he shakes his head. “And Kate…Kate would hang my fuckin’ head.”

“Not Kate’s responsibility anymore, she’s mine,” Simon bites back. He knows it’s wrong. In all honesty, the sentiment tasted bad from the moment he said it to you, but it is easier to let you believe that he’s using you then try and make you understand him. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t get his reasons, and that’s fine, so if he has to be the bad guy, so be it.

The least he could do is make himself useful. Put your skills to work, poke your mind. See what you can really do.

“Don’t let your girl hear you talkin’ like that, Simon,” John says lowly. “Not her, and certainly not Kate.”

“But you agree,” Simon continues, chuckling lowly. “I speak for her. ‘n I think she’d be right in on it, Captain. Wot else is she to do, eh? Sit in my fuckin’ quarters and wait f’me? Wot kind of life is tha’? She needs this. She’s good. I can teach ‘er. She’ll learn. Well and good she will, I know it.”

John sniffs, running a big hand over his short hair before tapping a pen over the target paper on the wall.

“I need her OK,” John relents finally. “I need to hear it from her. I get that, I’m alright with it. But she has to know what she’s getting into, Simon. And no one but you is responsible for her. If she gets into something, I’m not gonna risk Soap or Gaz for it–”

“I know,” Simon mutters. “She’ll be my shadow. I’ll teach ‘er.”

She’ll be good. She’ll be good because she’s mine.

“Bravo-7, sitrep.”

“Eyes on target. Waiting on confirmation.” Simon looks over his shoulder for a moment, where you’re sitting as his cover. You look cute, he thinks. All geared up. He lets his eyes sweep over the cargo pants that are cinched around your waist. Your nice curves. Thick thighs. Fuck, you smell good, even with all the sand up his nose and the smoke clinging to his mask. You have your rifle tucked into your elbow, and you’ve got it aimed towards the door of the roof.

“Is it always so fucking hot?” You ask, running your wrist over your lip. You’re sweating; you can feel it dripping down the back of your neck and along your back. You’re wearing a lot of gear, but you’ve done this before, and you don’t remember it being so uncomfortable. It must be the climate–you’re not used to this kind of desert, and you need to get it together.

Despite the irritation you feel every time you look at Simon, your omega wants to please him. She wants to show him she can do this, that she’s capable, and you’re starting to not like that she’s behaving as if you and her are one and the same.

I’m in control. Shut the fuck up. Let me focus.

“Just watch the door,” Simon mutters, turning back to focus. He adjusts the scope of his rifle, taking a deep breath as he leans into the stock. He gets his target into his line of sight, and he narrows his eye a little more to watch the group more closely on the ground. It’s hard to ignore you. Normally, the person covering him goes almost unnoticed. Their scent never affects him, not enough to make him look away from his scope, but there’s something in the air way too close to him, and he scrunches his nose a little as he adjusts his position on the ground. “You stink, by the way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. “Not my fault.”

“Certainly is y’r fault.”

“You reek, too, you ass,” you mumble, wiping your forehead again. You adjust how you’re sitting, clearing your throat. It’s scratchy, and you’re starting to itch a little all over, too. “Like wet dog.”

Simon smiles under his mask. He keeps his index finger next to the trigger, and you keep yours on it.

“How much longer do we have to do this? I mean…I thought you were SAS. Don’t you guys…get your hands real dirty? I mean, don’t you go tearing doors down? Get a lot of action? I mean, we’re just sitting ducks on a roof here right now.”

“Wot, you wanna go kick some doors down now?” Simon asks. He shakes his head. “The real job is boring. We do things nice and clean, we only get dirty when we ‘ave to. If I can get a target from 1000 yards away, then tha’s wot I’ll do. Besides. This is wot I’m good at.”

“Yeah, you look real good there on your knees, honey.”

Simon blinks hard when something strong hits his nose. It stings, makes his eyes water. He coughs a little, dropping his head for a moment.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Simon hisses. “Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper. You take your hand off your rifle for a moment to adjust the collar of your shirt, but it doesn’t help. You shift a little, loosening your tactical vest. You want to take it off, but you know that’s a bad idea out here. It’s hard to think clearly, though, when your brain is cloudy and you’re starting to see things in double every so often. “It’s…it’s too hot.”

Simon huffs, “‘n when was the last time you had a heat?”

“I’ve…I’ve never.” You clear your throat. “I’ve never had one.”

Can you smell him? I can smell him. He smells so good.

Simon nearly leaves his post. He grips his rifle tight, gloved hands squeezing the metal, and he turns to look at you incredulously.

“Fuckin’ repeat tha’?”

“I know you’re blind and dumb, but don’t tell me you’re fucking deaf, too,” you mumble. You swallow, wiping your face again, and Simon presses on the radio on his shoulder.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, how long do we got?”

“Just observation on target for now. Why?”

“Need 10 minutes.”

Simon shuts off the radio. You blink, starting to see double pretty consistently now, and you take a shaky breath as you grip your rifle a little tighter. You hear shuffling behind you, and you look back to see Simon moving from his position.

“What are you doing? Simon–”

“Get over ‘ere.” Simon sets his rifle down. “Tha’ wasn’t a fuckin’ suggestion, tha’ was an order!”

There’s something different in his voice at the end. Something more animal that lilts his drawl, and it makes you coherent enough to start moving–like his voice made all the fog clear up for just a few moments, long enough for you to realize you need him.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You put your rifle down, crawling over to him, and just as you stumble, Simon catches you. You put your hands on his shoulders, falling into his lap, and he hoists you up until you’re straddling him. You feel him starting to tug on your cargos, and even in your daze, you squeeze his shoulders.

“S-Simon? What are you…What are you doing?”

“Y’r gonna go into heat soon,” Simon mutters. Alarm bells go off in your head, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. He can see it clearly–the panic on your face.

“H-Heat? R-Right now?”

“Not right now,” Simon clicks his tongue. “More like a…pre-heat. Get y’r bloody pants off–”

When Simon tugs your cargos down enough, you gasp when you see the mess your panties are in. They’re soaked, drenched until the cotton is a darker color, sticking to your cunt, and you whimper as Simon tugs you back into his lap with your pants around your ankles. It’s awkward and messy, and you’re sweating bullets, hot and bothered, and your chest feels tight. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing sweet about the way Simon turns you in his lap. It’s hurried, but you’re just as desperate, clawing to whatever piece of him you can touch and trying to sink into him. If you could, you’d pry him open and force yourself to tuck yourself inside of him. You want to live there forever. You want to be in his skin, soaking it all in–you want it. You want this, don’t you?

He’s touching us! He’s touching us! Let him in!

“W-What’s happening t-to me?”

“‘s olright,” Simon whispers in your ear. “I’ve got ya. There we are…” He cups your pussy, making you squirm. You jolt in his lap, throwing your head back against his shoulder, and he hums as you sink into his touch. Something inside you curls and lights on fire. Your vision blurs, and his scent surrounds you. “Oh…fuck…tha’ wot ya needed, swee’eart? Yeah…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Simon–” Your back arches, and you push your hips into his hand. When he touches your clit, your omega seizes inside your head, and it’s a feeling like you’ve never felt before.

She takes the reigns; and God, does she fucking pull.

You palm at the zipper of his pants. There’s something there, something you want–and you need it. There’s something in your chest that blinds you, that familiar voice in your head that chants–take it out, take it out, take it out.

“‘m workin’ on it, love,” you hear from behind, and you realize you’re talking. You’re out of your body, you think. You’re not yourself. When you feel him in your daze, big and throbbing under your hand, you whine. It comes from deep within your chest, a bubble of nonsense, and Simon coos. He drags your hips closer, and his cock slips under you, between your folds, and you use your palm to keep him pressed to you. You can’t see him, but you felt him when you first met him, and you’re feeling him now.

If there was any doubt that he was anything but an alpha, that thought disappears when his fat tip kisses your clit. He’s hot and throbbing under your hand, and he is more than enough to appease the voice in your head that’s screaming for some kind of inherent relief that it knows he can give.

“Simon, I need it–I need it–”

“I know, love.”

Fuck, Simon would win any dick-measuring contest, you think. Barely the tip of him, and you’re baring your teeth, gripping his thighs and digging your nails into him as you try and breathe through the stretch. He’s not even fully hard yet; the blood is rushing to his cock, and you moan and cry as he sits you down further and further and further–

“What the fuck–what is it you have in your fucking pants, a-a fucking pipe–?!”

“Y’r so much prettier when y’r mouth ain’t runnin’,” Simon mutters. “Ahh–fuck–’s mine, oll mine–”

You put your hands on his knees and throw it back. You’re feral, brain foggy, and all you can think about is getting yourself off. Your body clings to Simon like a thick, curling vice, pussy clamping around him and taking him to the root. You’re dripping down your thighs, wetting his cargos, and you’re thankful that he’s wearing black, otherwise you can’t think about the mess you’d really be leaving on him. The sounds are lewd. Frantic smack, smack, smack against his thick thighs, and the sound is only making you drool for more. He’s so big. He’s hitting you deep, and you swear your insides have never been stretched this far, but it’s like your body is molding itself to fit him. Like you’re making room for him.

It’s so good. It feels right. Your omega growls like an animal, crying with relief. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, and she has it in her hands, and she licks at your scent gland until it practically vibrates. Simon’s face is pressed to it, like he can hear her calling. His mask is the only thing separating you, but you can feel his teeth straining against the fabric. They cut over the gland, wet like his tongue is poking against it, too, and your omega screams.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

“Not yet,” Simon grunts. “Won’t take.”

“You’ll make it take.”

He laughs, and then he punches the air out of you with a nice thrust. Then he’s on you. Suddenly, you’re on your knees, your tummy against the sandy rooftop, with a stallion of a soldier on top of you, taking you like his last meal.

He sounds like more bear than man. Growling, spitting, both hands on either side of your head as he fucks you into the floor. There’s a smile on your face, soft relief that leaves you in your pretty moans and gurgled pleas. It feels so good. The tip of his cock curves and hits against the same place each time, sending pulses that rack your body over and over and over again. Your thighs are shaking, and then Simon slips one hand under you and cups your pussy, fitting it just right until you can grind down on his palm in perfect timing with the way the fat tip of him hits you just well enough. It should hurt. You’ve never taken anything so big–of course you’ve practiced, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

This is still practice. You’re not in your heat, not really, and Simon hasn’t lost his fucking mind yet.

Like a fiend, you chase it. The stars, the mountain to climb, the beautiful end. You get up a little more onto your knees and you wrap a hand around his neck, force him against your jaw. You goad him on with pretty words, soft moans–that’s it, right there, please.

It’s not his first time. It’s not his first time relieving an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s not his first time taking an omega by the neck and pounding into her until she can’t speak, but it’s the first time his resolve shatters.

He wants to bite. He’s never felt the urge to bite. If it wasn’t for the mask, his teeth would be an inch deep in your neck, and he’d be memorizing what your blood tasted like for the first time. Your scent is just that much off that he knows it isn’t the right time, but fuck–the need is there. It’s clear.

Special. One of a kind. No one like her. Soft. Sweet. Mine.

His knot swells a little, but it doesn’t lock. You’re not in a proper heat, so it’s not right just yet, but you can feel the edge of it, like the preface to a glorious poem. Thick and spongy, hot, and when he comes, your eyes roll back in your head. It feels like being thirsty for days on end and finally getting that sweet drink of crystal clear water. He pumps you full, creamy and thick and dribbling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. Subconsciously, you’re trying to keep it inside, and Simon groans when as he latches his mouth over your scent gland under the mask and sucks–so hard, it pinches you just right.

The stars align. The tide wanes. You mumble softly, dopey smile on your face, and when your own high hits you, and you’re squirting into his hand, you let his rumbling, low voice pull you back to earth.

“I ‘ave ya, swee’eart,” he says. “Shhh…easy, kitty…Shh…yeah, easy.”

You sigh with relief. Simon handles you with ease. He picks you up, gets you to sit back on your heels. You don’t see it, but Simon fits his wet fingers under the mask, and you keen when you hear him suck on his fingers and hum.

He likes us. Hear that? He likes us.

“Want you to eat me,” you giggle suddenly, and Simon wipes you down, picking your pants back up and zipping them. He pats your ass gently, smoothing a hand over the back of your neck. He knows you’re still in a different headspace. He knows there’s still something else drawing your breath, but he’s trying not to think about it too much. It sounds so much like you.

“Do plenty o’tha’ when we’re in the thick o’it, kitty.”

Back in the humvee, Johnny is smiling like an idiot. He’s sitting next to Kyle, hitting him with his elbow as he wiggles his eyebrows at you and Simon sitting across from them. You tilt your head to the side, glaring.

“What?” You snap, and Johnny cackles. His eyes are flashing, and he reeks like happiness.

“Smells like ye had fun.”

“My gun is loaded, shithead,” you warn him. “And I know how the fucking safety works.”

When Johnny moves to sit in the front near your captain, you try not to think about the sudden warmth over your knee, and the squeeze of Simon’s hand on you.

NEXT

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, reader plays volleyball, masturbation, oral (f receiving), obsessive behaviour, boobjob, penetration (p in v), 18+ minors dni.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who decides you're going to be his the very first time he sees you playing volleyball on the beach with your teammates wearing those pitiful scraps of material that can hardly be classified as a bikini.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes sure to pick up any and every extra shift he can just so he can figure out exactly what times you come down to the shore to practise.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose new favourite pastime is just to sit in his lookout post, barely paying attention to the water to keep an eye on anybody who may be in potential danger — no, lately, his gaze always seems to be fixed squarely upon you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but push his sunglasses up to rest in his hair so he can get a clearer view of you as you move around the sand, the way your scantily-clad body moves whenever you jump to hit the ball over the net just hypnotizing the poor man.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to disregard his duties completely to duck into a nearby beach hut when it becomes too much to just watch you, furiously fisting his leaking cock to the delicious mental image of your ass bouncing as you played.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who emerges from the hut looking like an utter mess, snowy locks dishevelled and swimming trunks hanging low on his hips as he stumbles back over to his lookout post. his strange behavior even grants him a few curious look from nearby beachgoers, but he couldn't care less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finds his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides when he observes one of the boys from the opposing volleyball team shaking your hand after a match. it's just a sign of mutual respect between players —  he knows that.

but that doesn't mean it irritates him any less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finally gathers the confidence to actually approach you later that afternoon while you're packing up your things, idly scratching the back of his undercut while he tries to think of a normal way to start a conversation.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who doesn't have to speak at all in the end, because you say the first words for him, greeting him with that pretty little smile of yours that he's only been able to see from afar up until now and outstretching a hand for him to shake.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but let a pleased grin spread across his lips while he returns the gesture, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction rising in his chest that his own touch on your palm has erased that previous guy's.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who falls even harder for you (if that's possible) during the few minutes he talks with you. it's nothing more than a friendly interaction between two regular beachgoers, but to him, it's one of many more to come.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels like he could do an embarrassing victory dance on the sand right then and there when you casually mention an upcoming volleyball competition that you'll be playing in. so you want him to be there, huh?

he nonchalantly responds that he might just be able pop by and watch some of it during his break — as if he isn't already planning on completely abandoning his post in favour of spectating the entire match instead.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is so full of excitement during the week leading up to the tournament that he just can't keep quiet about it for even a single second. his poor bestfriend lifeguard!geto is beginning to feel like he's the one with the giant, pathetic crush on you at this point.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would most likely be fired if his boss was to see him right now, sprawled across a bench and watching you compete at volleyball instead of looking out for drowning children in the waves.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is sporting a not-so-subtle tent in his swimming trunks as he sits there, which he tries in vain to hide by crossing his legs over his lap. i mean, can you really blame him? just look at the way those doughy tits of yours jiggle in that downright sinful bikini top!

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to clench his jaw to stop from snapping various profanities at the nearby beachgoers who have stopped in their tracks just to witness the match — he's not oblivious, he can see them checking you out just as he is.

but it's different when he does it. why? because you're going to be his soon enough. don't they understand that?

pervy lifeguard!gojo who isn't surprised in the slightest when your team easily triumphs over the other. after all, the opposing team doesn't have you on it. and although he knows little to nothing about volleyball, he can easily declare that you must be the best at it.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would ideally like to run up to you and gush about how well you performed, but due to the very visible... problem in his trunks, ends up darting into the nearest beach hut for the second time this month to relieve himself because of you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is halfway through sloppily jerking his hips up into his closed fist when sunlight suddenly starts to flit through the gap in the door — shit, he was so worked up he forgot to even close it.

rookie mistake, satoru.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when he realizes it's you who just walked in through the doorway, shutting it gently behind you. he's about to start furiously apologizing for what you stumbled in on when he notices you don't seem nearly as shocked as you probably should be.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can only watch in stunned silence as you slowly saunter closer to him, your hands hidden behind your back as they easily untie the strings of your bikini top before letting it fall to the floor.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who releases what can only be described as a pornographic moan at the sight of your freed breasts, his neglected cock twitching beneath his hand as he ogles you without shame. if he had any self-awareness left, he might've been embarrassed of the small trickle of drool oozing from his slackened mouth.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels his cheeks flush a shade of red brighter than the leaking tip of his bobbing cock when you purr to him... "do you really think i haven't noticed you checking me out for these past few weeks, mr lifeguard?"

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow finds himself living out a scenario lewder than the wildest of wet dreams he's had about you, his jittery hips thrusting erratically between your tits as you keep them pressed together for him with your hands.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who reaches what is undoubtably the fastest orgasm of his life, his sunglasses toppling from his head as it falls back in bliss, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat as he releases a series of broken groans and whimpers.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who immediately joins you on your knees once he's come down from his euphoric high, long pink tongue lolling out to lap up every drop of sticky cum he split on your pretty tits, sucking and nipping at every inch of supple skin within reach.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who just can't stop yapping, going on and on about how perfect you are, how you've been on his mind for what feels like forever, how sexy you look when you're hitting around that volleyball.

it seems the only way to actually shut pervy lifeguard!gojo up is to shove his beautiful face between your legs, the only sounds leaving him now being mewls of enjoyment as he mouths at your saccharine taste through your bikini bottoms.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is already too lost in you to properly remove the material keeping him from your pussy, instead lazily yanking it to the side with a single finger so he can dive nose-deep into your sweet cunt like he's been dreaming about doing for weeks.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is just so messy with it, practically making out with your dripping hole as he rapidly delves his tongue in and out, moaning so shamelessly you'd think he was the one getting eaten out and not you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes you cum using only his sloppy mouth so many times neither of you even know just how long you've been cooped up in this beach hut where there's a real possibility that someone could walk in at any given moment.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't hold himself back from fucking you anymore — he's waited long enough already, after all. so he's effortlessly manhandling you onto your back as he pushes in, eyes locked onto the sight of your tits still glistening with his saliva and cum from earlier.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who buries his face between the valley of your breasts as he ruts into you like a rabid animal, word after word of slurred praise failing from his lips as he looks up you with those wide, lovestruck cerulean eyes.

god, he's so fucking obsessed with you. getting to finally feel you like this was just the last nail in the coffin.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow cums even harder than his previous climax, the overwhelming sensation of the tight, spongy walls of your cunt pulling him back in over and over again just unravelling his hazy mind with ease.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to psychically stop himself from letting out a choked whisper of 'i love you' as he spills his milky seed right into your womb where his cockhead is lodged, seemingly having enough awareness left to know that it's much too soon for that.

instead, pervy lifeguard!gojo settles for fixing you with a dopy grin so wide that both rows of his glinting pearly whites are on full display, murmuring a cheeky... "what do you say we make this a routine after every competition, pretty baby?"

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy yoga instructor!geto <- PREVIOUS.

pervy electrician!toji -> NEXT.

[monstersholygrail]

While at first your owners were overjoyed about the fact that you, a Mouse Hybrid, and your mate, a Cat Hybrid were getting along so much better than before, their concern quickly grew. They began to wonder if you two were getting along too well, not knowing how far your relationship had already progressed.

They worried that their silly little cat was playing too rough with you. Having seen the way he would tackle you, his hips pinning you in place so he can paw at your body. Or the way his sharp teeth nip along the fold of your neck, leaving dark claiming marks in their place.

They got you for him so he could have a friend but they didn’t want him bothering your cute self too much if you were unable to fight back when the intensity rose.

And as his heat got closer and closer to starting they only began worrying more. They knew he’d become even more rough and raunchy. The last thing they wanted was for their precious plump mouse to get scared or hurt.

So, for your safety, they decided to set up their cat hybrid with their friend’s cat hybrid. With an agreement from both owners she would come stay over at the house so they could mate in peace. Only until his heat had passed and he was able to control himself as usual; if only they knew.

Your big mouse cheeks puff up in anger as the female cat walks into the house. Parading into your territory. Your mate didn’t even notice, too busy loudly purring while licking at his marks on your neck and making sure they stayed dark. Something he was doing more of recently with his heat coming up.

When your bf’s heat fully started, it began to affect all the hybrids in the house. Your bf kept clinging to you, taking every chance he could to get away and take you somewhere he can relieve the heat you cause to burn inside him even hotter.

The other cat hybrid could smell his alluring scent and it grew harder to resist despite being scared off by your scent always mixed so deeply with his.

For you, your bf’s heat only heightened your need to claim him in every way possible.

The tension was growing thicker and thicker the longer things went on without you properly laying claim on your mate. Especially now as the other hybrid eyes your mate from the other side of the living room.

Your bf, too caught up in the consuming lust of his heat to notice anything else, still only ever has his hands on you. Sensing her eyes on you, you finally decide to settle this one and for all.

You straddle your bf and he immediately sighs in relief, already needing to have you all over again. You rub against his hardening cock, letting him know you need him now too.

In the blink of an eye he’s flipping you onto your belly, ass high up in the air. His body molding against your own, his loud purring rumbling in your ear.

“Look at you, such a good mate. Taking care of me when I need you so bad,” he coos.

Your eyes flash as you look at the other hybrid. Your tail intertwines with your bf’s and you reach back, rocking back against his aching cock and sinking your claws into him to keep him close. He growls, pawing at your clothes so he can get to you. Your unusual behavior not going unnoticed by him but it only gets him more hot and bothered.

His eyes follow your line of the sigh to the strange hybrid leaving the room in a frenzy and he growls. The heat within him threatening to explode as he realizes what you’re doing.

With a swipe of his paw he shreds the rest of your clothes off. The sight of your glistening fat cunt has his mind spinning. He yanks you closer and sinks his length deep inside you in a long smooth stroke, stretching you out till your insides are burning just as his are.

“And staking claim on your mate too. Such a good girl f’me. Now let me take care of you,” he growls, wanting to properly reward you for showing another Hybrid what’s yours.

You still have your claws in him, keeping close as he desperately fucks his cock into you. The close proximity forcing his thick tip to slam against that soft spot deep inside of you with every hard snap of his hips. You can feel every inch of him against you and it helps soothe the feelings controlling you.

Loud moans and cries of pleasure echo throughout the house form you both. Ensuring the other hybrid can hear. His ribbed length rubs along your gummy walls. The friction has your toes curling and your back arching into him as you meet every thrust.

Every inch of your form shakes as the pleasure he gives you doubles over. Your body practically seizing as he has you coming hard in his cock. But just when you think he might start slowing down, he quickly pins your wrists over your head and rams his length into you.

“I don’t know if she’s gotten the message, little mouse. Might need to make it a little more clear,” he says, a feral glint in his eye.

He fucks you until you forget another hybrid was ever here to begin with. He makes you forget everything besides his name as he forces you to scream it each time he brings you to release.

When his heat ends not longer after, the other hybrid leaves to go back home to her family. You and your bf watch her from afar, his frame hovering on top of yours as your owners happily chat away.

As soon as goodbyes are shared and the door closes, your bf rolls over to pin you against the couch. That look in his eye making you wonder if some of his heat hasn’t totally gone away just yet.

[chlorinecake]

A SUCKER FOR THE TASTE ✦— 𝐋.𝐇𝐒

▹ PAIRING — experienced husband heeseung x virgin f. reader

▹ GENRE — smut, fluff, newlyweds au

▹ SYNOPSIS — As teens, you were the uncanny duo that fell in love at first sight. Some odd years later, and you’re now a newlywed couple, spending your first night together in a fit of nerves as you navigate sex and other new feelings…

▹ WARNINGS — KINKTOBER SPECIAL, basically just pussy drunk!husband!heeseung making you squirt for hours on the night of your honeymoon, marriage themes (duh), mentions of food, dom and sub dynamics, kissing with tongue, overstimulation kink (reader cums multiple times), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, petnames (baby, angel, pretty, sweetie), that’s all

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.3k — DAY 1

YOU AND HEESEUNG were like Romeo and Juliet; two people from totally different walks of life, and honestly, no one ever would’ve guessed you two’d end up falling for each other.

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell any time had passed between the first moment you met Heeseung with a hickey on his neck in the lunch hall to now as you sit before him on a king sized bed, ring fingers clad with beautiful bands to match as you stared into each others eyes, speaking a love song of unspoken words.

“You’re fine with waiting til marriage?” You remember asking him a few weeks after you first started dating as teens, “you won’t think I’m a prude for wanting to keep things traditional?…”

“Of course not, sweetie,” you remember him answering while cupping your face in his hands, “a girl like you is worth the wait—” He whispered in between kissing your lips, “—and so much more…”

Since that moment, you and Heeseung have stuck to your guns, not even so much as showering together to keep your purity intact until the right moment…

… That fateful day when you’d say “I do” and he the same, right before venturing off into the sunset on angel’s wings to explore another country together.

Another life, might I add, as a married couple on your extravagant honeymoon…

Everything was so magical in your head, too… but regardless of that, Heeseung was too big of a fucking dork to let himself be romantic for once.

Just an hour ago, he had told the hotel receptionist “you too” after she congratulated you both on getting married—

“Grrrrrrrrr,” he pouted, scrunching his nose at you.

“Did you just… growl at me!?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you keep resisting,” Heeseung threatened playfully, pointing an accusing finger at your frame now.

Sighing, you raised your hands beside your head as a sign of compliance, parting your lips slightly as you held your head back for him.

“Alright, don't move this time, alright? We can do this!” He ordered more passionately this time, cradling a single grape between his fingers before angling his wrist backwards and launching it towards your mouth.

“Oh my gosh, I finally caught it!” You shouted with excitement, words coming out a bit slurred as you bit down into the sweet fruit, “Tastes like victory,” you continued, making Heeseung grace you with his thundering ovation.

“Brava!” He began to cheer, but the rest of his sentence was interrupted by his own burp, which only elicited a fit of embarrassed giggles from the both of you…

Two empty glasses of wine sat on the hotel nightstand beside the bed you were currently sat on, and if it wasn't obvious enough, y'all were already starting to experience the giddy effects of the alcohol dancing in your systems.

“So,” you smiled, a laugh still present in your throat as you fed him a white grape from the bowl between you two, “we're the couple that eats pie in place of dinner now?”

“Sure... but not just any pie,” Heeseung corrected, leaning closer to your ear as he whispered, “blueeeberry pieeee.”

You're not sure if it was the wine or the honeymoon high, but you can't help yourself from laughing out loud at Heeseung's behavior in this moment—

“You’re a legend for always vibing with my horrible sense of humor, y’know that?” Your husband remarked while tilting his head at you endearingly.

“Your humor is definitely one-of-a-kind, but I wouldn't want you to change a thing about it,” you returned tenderly, right before feeding him a fork-full of blueberry pie from the dish between you two, feeling your heart swell as he smiled into the bite.

The kind of smile you’d have a hard time getting out of your mind later—

“Thanks, babe,” he said, a bit of dark blue jam resting in the corner of his mouth now as his eyes sparkled with what you could bet was pure flattery.

You always liked it whenever you managed to get Heeseung all flustered before you, considering how he was usually the one to make you a blushing mess with only his words.

“You've uh...” you stammer slightly, “you've got a little something on your lip there...”

“Really?”

“Yea, just... let me get it for you real quick,” you continue, licking the pad of your thumb before leaning forward to dab at the jam on his mouth.

That's when you noticed his lips curving into a subtle smirk as he whispered in a low voice, “You got it, baby?”

“Y-yea,” you stuttered again, feeling your face heat up at his words, and if you didn't look so hot to him right now, he would've pinched your cheeks—

“Whoops,” Heeseung gasped facetiously, pouting at the streak of blueberry jam he very intentionally just smeared on your lower lip, “must be the wine making me so clumsy today...”

Your eye almost twitched at the sight of him licking his finger clean, a rush of nerves swarming in your stomach now

“I-it's okay, Heeseung,” you said while lifting your thumb to your mouth, “I've got it...”

“No you don't,” he chuckled at your shy demeanor, right before closing the space between you two, taking your face in his hand and kissing you.

And yes, you saw this coming, but it took you a few seconds to fully close your eyes, letting them flutter shut as you both sighed at the taste of each other, almost as if the contact relaxed you…

The kiss was slow at first, with you and him simply breathing against each other’s mouths as his velvety lips moved against yours.

But that pace didn't last long once Heeseung broke from the kiss to move the bowl of grapes and pie out of the way, a few of the glossy green ovals hitting the ground with light thuds as his right hand found the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

The kiss grew more intense from there as both your heads were tilting into each other, wet smacks filling the room now as his tongue prodded against yours with every passing second.

“God, you taste so sweet,” Heeseung groaned, desperately clinging to your waist which only made you moan in response.

You and Heeseung had made out countless times in the past, but you could tell something was different this time... you never felt this worked up with him before, and you knew it wasn’t just gonna end with a kiss—

“Can’t wait to taste other parts of you, too, baby…” he hummed, kissing along your neck while pinning your delicate wrists above your head.

And that’s when you felt it…

The twitch between your legs and the heat rushing throughout your entire body…

You were wearing a plaid pajama skirt and white top that matched Heeseung’s plaid sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, as you simply expected to only eat some dessert, discuss the rest of your honeymoon plans, and head straight to sleep right after.

Now though, you knew you wouldn't be able to get much rest with your emotions like this… at least not comfortably, that is…

You’re between his lap at first until he guides you onto your back, kissing down your neck, between your breasts, and down your stomach as he lifts your top, stopping at the waist band of your skirt given the way your body tensed up suddenly.

“Is everything alright?” He asked softly, glancing back up at you with a swollen look to his pouty lips, given all the kissing they had just done.

You knew what was happening right now..

Heeseung was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and as much as your body craved it, your mind kept fighting it for some reason…

FLASHBACK —

“Just… don’t make it too… formal, okay?”

“Formal?” Heeseung repeated with a slight chuckle as you sat beside each other on the plane that morning.

“Well, yea… I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it—”

“But it is a big deal, baby,” he cut you off by placing his hand over yours. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this, y’know?… Not just to have sex but—” he leaned closer to you as he whispered this in your ear, “—to make each other feel good… in all kinds of ways…”

His breath tickled your ear in that moment… similarly to how his lips were tickling you now as you laid before him on the mattress, his head hovering over the space between your thighs.

“We don’t have to go any further until you’re ready, love—”

“I’m ready, Heeseung,” you said while nodding, but he waited to continue, knowing in his heart that there was still something you needed to get off your chest.

He backed away, pulling your shirt back over your stomach and sitting on the bed normally now.

“Heeseung,” you said again, drawing his sparkly doe eyes back to you.

“I’m listening, love,” is all he replied with, offering you a warm smile, “what’s on your mind?”

What’s in the way? You internally asked yourself right after, knowing deep down that you had no reason to feel so nervous with him right now…

Heeseung had never alienated you because of your inexperience with sex before, and was always very understanding of your moral and sexual boundaries.

But now, things were different; you were a married couple, and one of the many perks of that was being able to explore each others body in a comfortable way…

Turns out though, it was all just your own insecurities clouding your judgment, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the nerves bubbling in your stomach…

“It’s just that,” you started nervously, fidgeting with your manicured nails, “I… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Yeah, I know,” your husband nodded sarcastically, trying his best to resist the urge to kiss you again—

“And…well, you have a lot more experience than me with this kind of thing,” you continued, lowering your head.

“So what?”

“What if I don’t meet your expectations?…”

“Expectations? What do you mean, ____?”

“Well, you’ve been with a lot of other girls and what if I’m not as good as them? What if you don’t like sex with me?…”

Heeseung’s heart would’ve otherwise dropped at your words, but instead, he smiled softly, taking your chin in his hand and lifting your head towards him. “You’re nothing like those girls I was with in the past, ____, and that’s my favorite part about you,”

You looked into his eyes as he continued, “I’ll be happy with whatever happens tonight. You wanna know why? Because I did it with you, and I love you with my everything, princess…”

“I love you too, Heeseung,” you replied meekly, flashing him a soft smile as he kissed your cheek.

“No expectations tonight, then… okay, baby? I just wanna please you,” he whispered, slowly guiding your body back down against the mattress with a secure hand. “I wanna make you feel so good,” he continued, placing another kiss to the center of your lips. 

Heeseung started by letting his plush lips wander all over your body again, lifting your shirt up once more to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your stomach.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured with warm breath against your skin, caressing your inner thighs with his hands until you naturally craned them open, inviting him to your pulsing core.

Your breath hitched once you felt his nose burry between your clothed folds, but your little sounds only excited him even further, and he wasted no time in removing your panties completely now.

“Heeseung,” you whined, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he spat on your cunt, toying with the moisture there using his middle and index finger.

“Just relax for me, angel,” your husband cooed with a soothing tone, and you're not sure if it was the alcohol or the petname he just called you in his bedroom voice, but your head was starting to feel very dizzy.

And if you weren't so horny, you would've felt bashful in front of him like this... half-naked, and trembling when he's hardly even touched you yet.

The coldness of his wedding band against the warm flesh of your thigh sent shivers down your spine, and he wasted no time in inviting his fingers into your sopping hole, one at a time until your walls practically sucked him in.

He then started to leave kitten licks against your sensitive bud, complimenting the pace by pumping his wrist towards your pelvis with his digits still exploring the gummy walls of your cunt.

Admittedly, you had tried fingering yourself in the past, but it never felt as good as the way Heeseung worked wonders inside you right now, but you still needed something...

Something to hold onto… something to grab, and Heeseung could immediately tell once your nails started weakly nipping at the bed sheets, your pussy throbbing more and more—

“Hee,” you moaned, feeling his fingers curl deeper and deeper inside your tight cunt, “need to touch you so bad...”

“Yea? Wanna hold my hand, pretty?”

All you can manage to do is nod desperately, making him chuckle slightly at your neediness.

“If you hold my hands, I need you to promise to keep your legs open for me on your own... can you do that for me, love?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, and with that, Heeseung got to work on licking your slick from his fingers before finding your hands in his.

But your core was already missing the stimulation, making your hips rise up and down as if thin air would provide enough friction to ease your craving.

And that's when he licked his first stripe up the center of your pussy, and you're sure your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sensation.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to escalate from there, either.

His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked you in like a starved out man. His tongue was applying pressure in all the best ways before sinking into your hole, filling you up just enough to have you arching your back on the bed.

You felt your first orgasm wash over you, but you knew your husband had no intention of stopping so soon.

You were mewling beneath him at the overstimulation, thankful that he at least slowed down the pace of his tongue, even though he was still very earnestly slurping at your juices…

“Could eat this pussy for hours, princess… you’re just too delicious…” he groaned, and you felt the bed shaking from the way he was rutting his crotch against the mattress, furrowing his eyebrows as his kept eating you out.

“Come on baby, let me hear you,” Heeseung practically begged, his tone sounding so hoarse, so drunk as the vibrations from his voice only tantalized you even further, “tell me how good it feels...”

“F-feels s-so fucking good, baby,” you moaned, words coming out in fragments given how cloudy your brain was becoming, and you're pretty sure you had your second or third orgasm shortly after as your hands squeezed his, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

His tongue was licking between your folds so well, the textured muscle making your skin tingle all over but in the best way imaginable.

Heeseung didn't plan on any of this to happening, which is why it felt so good in the first place. It was natural, raw, and so so messy…

Your own cum was dripping all over his chin and lips, and he was loving every single second of it.

He was obsessed with it. The way your clit throbbed against his lips, the way you squirted your juices all over his face, the way your thighs squirmed while struggling to stay open, and your angelically desperate cries of pleasure as he drew out orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

He wished he could watch your face contort with need as he fucked you with his face and tongue, but he couldn't look back up at you no matter how hard he tried… He had to keep his face buried between you…

Your strength eventually gave out and your grip released his hands that soon found one of your tits, gripping the mound of flesh in a way that only drew you even further over the edge.

Your hips had even developed a mind of their own, humping against his face like a bunny in heat as he whispered filthy nothings against your cunt, as well as sweet somethings that you'd hear for the next hour or two that Heesueng spent with his pointy nose brushing against your clit.

“You're so fucking wet for me, angel...”

“Love it when you come all over my face.”

“Pull my hair, baby... harder than that...”

“So so beautiful, and just for me.”

“Keep those pretty thighs open just like that, baby…”

“You taste so fucking divine...”

“Please don't tell me to stop... just one more, baby... I know you've got it in you...”

He found just as much enjoyment being between your thighs as you did in having him there, making you cream on his tongue again and again until you finally hiccuped the words, “N-no more, Hee... p-please, I can't t-take anymore...”

But your begging only made Heeseung even greedier, letting his fingers find your clit where he applied enough pressure and stimulation to break that last orgasm out of you, leaving you a shaking mess as he kissed you down, harder than a bullet in his own pants from getting to see you like this so many times and for so long in just one evening.

A series of shaky whimpers filled the room now as your husband crawled back over you, kissing you with his swollen lips while caressing the side of your fucked-out face. “You did so good for me, baby... especially on your first night...”

“Th-thank you,” you said with a weak chuckle, still feeling your orgasms fresh in your hips and thighs as he kept soothing you with his touch, your breath shaky in your chest after hours of coming undone with him…

That's when he moved over to lay beside you, and your eyes almost immediately caught sight of the thick bulge resting behind his pants, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad now given how he didn’t get much action the whole time.

“Do you want me to...” you started timidly, moving your hand to touch him up til he stopped you.

“Not tonight... we can have fun with that tomorrow,” Heeseung smiled, making you giggle again as he changed his position to make the bulge less noticeable, “for now though, let's focus on getting you cleaned up... sound good?”

“Better than good,” you replied tenderly, kissing him on the cheek before he got up from the bed and headed toward the hotel bathroom where he planned to run you a nice warm bath.

“Wait!” Your husband called out suddenly, just as he caught you trying to get out of the bed on your own.

Running over, a confused look remained on your face as he picked you up from the mattress bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom.

“I didn't forget how to walk, Heeseung,” you giggled, keeping your hands secure at his shoulder as he cradled you into the tub.

“I know,” he laughed, helping you get your top off and over your head as the water ran in the background, “I just didn't want my precious wife accidentally stepping on any of those grapes I dropped earlier...”

It went without saying that Heeseung had always been a loser, but he was your loser, and that fact alone was the bandaid that covered up every preconceived notion of him you ever created in the back of your mind…

You didn’t see him the way other people saw him… as the former man whore, troublemaker, or hopeless goof from high school, ‘destined’ to never change…

You saw him as the adorable nerd who accepted you for the things you saw as flaws… as the guy who still wore character themed PJ’s every once in a while that you now get to call “Hubby,” “lovey,” and “mine…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who read this little fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 1 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings

[navybrat817]

For your consideration:

Imagine Bucky, the strong and dangerous and stern super soldier that by all accounts is terrifying as an opponent, being unable to stop himself from coming in his pants because of you. Maybe you don't even have to touch him; he gets so lost in the taste of you that he has to start grinding against the mattress, and accidentally comes when you do.

I've had this image in my head for days and had to share it somewhere, sorry 🫠

Nonnie, I love this so much. 🫠

Feral

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets a little feral now and then.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Oral sex (f. receiving), implied sex, possessive behavior, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky gets in a feral mood every now and then. He may let you know with a text that simply says, “Be ready.” and other days he won't give you a warning at all. By the time you hear his deep growl or see his pupils so blown that the blue irises nearly disappear you know you aren't leaving the bed for the next day. Or two.

Today you don't even hear him coming.

You’re in the middle of a shower when he suddenly shoves the curtain aside, and you’re lucky you don't have a heart attack or slip and fall. A shriek still leaves your mouth when you lock eyes with the ex-assassin and you see the blown pupils, and you're about to have a heart attack for a completely different reason. You hope your schedule is clear because you know he’s going to thoroughly ruin you and you’d rather not try to pull yourself back together for a while.

“Bed. Now.” His growl should make you move, but you’re still under the water and trapped by his massive body.

You don't move around him fast enough and he doesn't care that his clothes get wet when he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder. All he cares about is making you wet. At least he has the good sense to shut the water off before carrying you away. He’s thoughtful like that.

He drops you unceremoniously on the bed, the comforter now soaked as well thanks to your dripping wet body. Removing his shirt and tossing it aside, you get a moment to take in the view of Bucky Barnes looking at you like a man starved. He’s a beautiful canvas of muscles and scars, yet he looks at you like you're a real work of art. You wordlessly spread your legs and invite him to feast on what belongs to him. It would've been rude to keep him from his meal and you weren't cruel.

Not to mention no past lover can ever live up to how Bucky Barnes eats pussy.

He drops to his knees and pushes your legs open more, licking his lips as gazes at your twitching hole on display. He brushes some of the hair from his face to get a better look, and it only makes him look more wild. Untamed. It doesn't take much for him to arouse you, but the way he growls at the sight of you has you feeling like a goddess. You’re on your back, but he’s on his knees ready to worship and you’ll gladly accept his offerings. However he chooses to give them to you.

“I know you’re starving, Bucky. So eat,” you finally tell him, wanting him to have his fill. Whatever puts him in this mood, you’ll go along for the ride.

But before he dips down to feast, he moves up your body like a sleek cat and fastens his mouth to yours. He won't take from you without at least one kiss. You moan low as you kiss him back and feel him grind against you. It surprises you that he still has his pants on, but he’s getting rid of them soon enough.

You can't help but touch one of the scars near his shoulder, making him gasp into your mouth. He’s so strong. So powerful. Life dragged him through hell and he didn't escape unscathed, but he survived.

“Mine,” he murmurs so softly you almost miss it as he kisses down your body. Every kiss is a reminder of who you belong to. You’ll always be his.

“Yours,” you gasp when his nose nudges your clit and he inhales deeply. You remember when the smell of your arousal used to embarrass you, and now you wonder why it ever bothered you since he loves it so much. His metal fingers part your folds and he drags his tongue along your slit with a hum, lapping up your wetness. “Fuck…” you whimper, bringing a hand up to play with your breast.

“Not yet,” he growls, pushing his tongue deep inside.

Your free hand flies to his head and you choke on a moan as you clench around him. If he was speaking more, he’d tell you how beautifully bittersweet you taste, how your pussy is made for him, how desperate you are for him to fuck you with his cock, how you're all he needs. A mix of praise, profanity, filth, and love. Hearing him growl and grunt as he feasts tells you more than enough.

“So good,” he grunts between licks, his flesh hand digging into your shaking thigh when he slips two metal fingers in. You recall gushing all over the metal the first time he made his arm vibrate. He likes having the scent of your arousal on the metal, almost as much as he likes having it on the fingers of his right hand.

You lift your head when you hear shuffling on the bed, your eyes wide when you see his hips rise and dip. You’re all too familiar with that motion. “Bucky… are you…”

“Pussy’s so fucking good. I can't… I can’t stop,” he groans, rolling his hips like he can't stop himself from humping the bed because of how good you taste. “‘m so fucking hard for you.”

Your man’s cock can be sensitive some days. Grinding against him can make him get off in his pants. You went down on him once and just the feeling of your breath against his shaft had him shooting off before you wrapped your mouth around him. And with his rebound rate, you never have to worry if he gets off before you because he’ll still take care of you.

“That’s so hot,” you admit, your mouth falling open when he moves his fingers and tongue in time with his hips. “It’s okay, big boy. Make a mess in your pants for me,” you beg, wanting him to get off to you.

His growl has a bit of a whine to it when he looks up at you, his lips and chin glistening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, your fingers carding through his hair again. You don't want him to feel embarrassed.

He looks relieved. “Then make a mess on my face first,” he demands, dipping his head back down and making quick work of building your orgasm back up.

Pulling your hips down to meet his mouth, it isn't long before your orgasm tears through you. Your head nearly falls back as the tidal waves crash over you, but you keep it elevated enough to catch the stutter in his hips and the telltale husky moan against your sensitive hole. It almost triggers another orgasm watching him rut before he slumps against the bed like you.

Your head spins. Your heart pounds. And you smile. Bucky Barnes just came in his pants because you came. Yeah, you feel like a goddess and then some.

“You came in your pants for me,” you breathe. “That’s love.”

Your smile only widens when he pulls his mouth and fingers away to unbuckle his pants, your walls clenching when takes himself out. He’s large and thick as he strokes himself, and you can also see a bit of the evidence of him finishing in his pants. It gets you hot all over again, and now you need to make a mess around his cock while he finishes inside you. It’ll satisfy you both.

“Yeah, that is love,” he groans, brushing his thumb over the weeping tip. He still has a bit of the feral look in his eyes. “Now I need to fuck you with my cock at least twice before I eat again.”

Yeah, you’re in for a long and fun weekend.

I need him, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[wordsofwhimsy]

🅲🅾🅽🅲🆁🅴🆃🅴 🅵🅻🅾🆆🅴🆁🆂 pt. 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

PAIRING: Sinister!Mark Grayson x Reader

WARNINGS: Abusive/Possessive behavior, Smut, Language

INSPIRED: by the song “luther” by Kendrick Lamar & SZA

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ In this world, concrete flowers grow Heartache, she only doin' what she know … ♫♪

“So how was your day?”  Your knife glided with ease through the steak on your dinner plate.  Taking up your fork, you took a bite.  Cooked to perfection, you think.  You savored the taste.

“Tedious,” Mark responded dryly, devouring his meal with much less mindful intention.  “You’d think these people would have learned by now—why do they keep resisting?”  You could think of a million reasons to give him as an answer, but after so many months you’d finally learned that these types of questions were strictly rhetorical.  Mark sighed, setting down his silverware and looking at you from across the table. “I’m just glad to be home with you.”  You didn’t meet his stare, instead choosing to keep your eyes fixed on your food.  “You look beautiful.”

Your face flushed at his words. “Thank you,” you responded softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and glancing briefly up at him.  Mark watched you with unbridled intensity.  Despite everything that had transpired over the past half year, you still found yourself absolutely enamored by his charm.  The thought of this riddled you with guilt.  How could you still be so attracted to him considering all of the heinous acts he had – and continued – to commit?  What did that say about you?  A familiar sickness bubbled in your stomach; your appetite suddenly gone.  You set down your utensils and let go of a quiet breath.

“Done eating?” He questioned.  You finally gave him your full attention, offering a weak smile and nodding your head.

“It was delicious.  Give Jacques my regards.”  Mark couldn’t understand why you insisted on giving praise to the chef who cooked for the two of you, but then again, he didn’t understand a lot of human things anymore.  To him, Jacques was nothing more than a tool to be used.  An object that Mark possessed and would do away with once it stopped meeting his expectations.  You constantly wondered if he viewed you in the same light.

“Let’s go to bed then.  It’s been a long day.” You hum in agreeance and wait patiently as he stands from his seat and makes his way over to you.  The shackle around your ankle was unlocked, and although it wasn’t tight you still felt relief from its removal.  Its restraint was replaced by Mark’s hand, gently resting on the back of your neck.  This of course was an even better measure of security than the chain could ever be.  You did your best to take your time heading to the bedroom.  This was, after all, the space you spent nearly all of your time.  Whenever Mark was off suppressing the world, you were kept on a chain connected to the bed which was just long enough for you reach the conjoined bathroom.  When he was home you were freed from the shackles, but even that privilege was only recently acquired.

Despite your best efforts, you’d reached the bedroom in less than a minute.  He guided you to the foot of the bed where you took a seat and he stood in front of you, looking down.  His mask was off but he was still dressed down in his costume.  You brought your hands together in your lap, subconsciously making yourself as small as possible.  Mark could hear your heart thudding rapidly in your chest, and he couldn’t help but smirk.  He knew you weren’t ready to admit it, but you craved him.  Deeply, in an almost primal sense.  This was how he knew you truly belonged to him, and he loved it. “So what have you been up to today?” His question seemed cruel, considering the circumstances.

“I finished the book I was reading,” You responded, choosing not to play into his cruelty.  A small, but genuine smile painted your face. “It had a beautiful ending.”  This was a true statement.  You’d actually cried, rather hard for quite a while after it was over.

“That’s nice, maybe you can tell me about it later.” You nodded your head as he slowly puts himself on his knees in front of you, his hands now resting on your thighs. His thumbs rubbed small, slow circles on your sensitive skin causing your breathing to stutter. “You were on my mind more than usual today…”

“O-Oh…?”

“Mhmm.” Mark leaned down and planted a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh.  The physical euphoria this small gesture gave you was unreal.  “I couldn’t stop thinking about these legs of yours…” he murmured into your supple flesh before kissing up further, the bridge of his nose pushing the fabric of your dress back as he went.  Your hands writhed around themselves as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, fighting to manage your emotions.  Your thoughts were like a broken traffic light, rapidly flashing from STOP to GO over and over again.

As if reading your mind Mark abruptly pulled away, leaving you reeling as you reopened your eyes. Focusing your vision you found him still on his knees in front of your, but his expression read of wild hunger and desperation.  “I need you, [Name].” His hands moved from your thighs to your hips as he raised up on his shins.  Your hands instinctively moved to overlap his as you responded,

“I’ll always be yours.”  Mark felt a high hearing you say this.  He continued to slowly creep up the edge of the bed, his fingers moving to gently touch every part of your body until he completely overtook you.  Your hair fanned out around you as you stared up at him with large doe eyes.  You looked so innocent.  A true wonder that needed to be protected and kept safe.  Just the sight of you overwhelmed his senses.  “Take me,” you breathed in a weak whisper, setting Mark completely over the edge.  Moving as fast he could manage he stripped himself of his suit and you of your panties, opting to keep your loose fitting dress on.

Positioning himself at your entrance, your eyes raked over the immaculate contours of his chest, shoulders, and arms.  He truly did put the Greek statues to shame.  You could feel his tip rubbing back and forth over your slit, pressing for a moment on your most sensitive part eliciting a pathetic plea from you. “Please baby… Don’t make me wait….”  The combination of your innocent expression and sultry words was more than he could take.  Sliding into you felt like entering into nirvana.  He kept the rhythm slow at first as his hands palmed your breast through the fabric of your shirt—no bra of course, he preferred you never have them on for this exact reason.  Your legs were delicately wrapped around his low back, urging him to stay close to you. 

After a moment his hand slipped down your stomach and between your two sweating bodies to your clit, where he rubbed circles with calculated pressure.  You moaned and writhed beneath his masterful touch, your reaction encouraging him further.  “You’re such a good girl,” he praised huskily. “You make me so proud, always taking it so well.”  His praise made you even wetter and he could tell. “Cum f’me baby girl.  You can do it, you’re almost there.”  And cum you did in a panting, sweating flurry.  Your walls squeezing around him was indescribable. 

But the night was far from over of course, with the stamina of a viltrumite he could last for hours.  In a swift motion Mark flipped you both over so he was on his back and you sat on top.  His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he thrust up into you and he bounced you easily on his hard length.  “Maaark~” you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Just bounce on it f’me baby, you’re doing s’good,” he encouraged.  “Just like that, you got it.”  You gave it your best go, although you were still so stimulated and reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced.  These sexual moments would happen regardless of your opinion, and you found that getting as much enjoyment out of it as possible just made the most sense.  His hands traveled further back to grip your ass, giving him better leverage to pump into you.  You could swear that you were going to rip in half with how deep he was sinking into your cunt. “God you feel so good,” he breathed. “So so fucking good.”

“Ugh, M-Mark I don’t know how much more I can take!”

“Shh, you’ve got this baby just keep going.” His thrusts were becoming more aggressive as you had turned all but into a sniveling mess.  Switching positions once again in an instant, you found yourself flat on your stomach with your ass raised in the air as he railed into you from behind.  Your dress fell down to pool on the bed around your face, and you were grateful for the fact that your eyes were covered.  All of your senses were on overdrive and even the tiniest reprieve was still something.

“Tell me who owns this,” he demanded.

“You do,” your cried into the mattress, fingers gripped into the sheets for dear life.  This went on for what seemed like an unearthly amount of time, being tossed and flipped into every position imaginable and you reaching a climax countless times.  You were truly delirious in the moment when he finally reached his limit and finished inside you.  You both collapsed onto the bed, trying desperately to catch your breath.  Mark of course recuperated much quicker than you, and was putting you into a warm bath while you still found your body to be all but useless.  He cleaned you tentatively and with such sweet softness.  It was in moments like this that you remembered why you loved him.

This was the true duality of man, reflected perfectly in Mark Grayson.  These days he may have publicly rejected all of his humanity, but you still knew it to be there.  A violent, loving, controlling, gentle, possessive, generous creature was the perfect description of all of humankind.  He was a flower growing in concrete.  Confused, beautiful, and strong but trying to exist in a place that wasn’t meant for him.

This was why you would always love him.  Even if it meant hating yourself.

[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒) 2

You woke up with a headache, feeling your head throb painfully. For a moment, you really thought you were in your real-life home until you looked up and saw the bed canopy, adorned with fine, luxurious fabrics. A typical bed of ancient nobility, you couldn't even sit up without your head pounding from the pain. Who would have thought that crying so much could make you feel this bad?

In pain, you turned, now looking out of the bed. For a moment, you began to notice that the furnishings in the room were more refined, even though they were of a different color. You started to think that this room wasn't, in fact, yours. Looking at the door, you noticed the luxurious details that accompanied it, making you realize that you were neither in your real-life bedroom nor in your noble bedroom in this world.

You started to think a lot, which made your head hurt even more. But you finally managed to understand what happened last night and how you agreed to go with the young man. Now, finally turning to look at the ceiling, you sighed, knowing you were probably not in extreme danger and that being kidnapped was off the list since you had agreed to the situation.

Placing your hands on your face, you thought about the situation at the ball, now considering how your family in this world would probably disown you. What initially seemed like a simple matter turned out to be much worse. In this world, being disowned didn't just mean being removed from the family's inheritance; it meant being officially regarded as not part of the family at all. It was as if they erased you not only from their will but also from their lives. In more extreme cases, it could even mean being expelled from the house.

"Are you alright? You were quite warm last night; you had a fever," said a familiar voice. Turning, you confirmed it was the same young man from yesterday.

Forcing your aching body, you managed to sit up in bed, placing a hand on your forehead as the dizziness from the headache set in. "Yes, it's nothing serious. I apologize for my manners," you said. It was evident that simply lying in a bed that wasn't yours while the host stood by was considered almost impolite in this world.

"Liar… please, miss, don't push yourself too hard. You still seem unwell," the young man said, his voice calm and concerned. If you could look now, you would see the care and worry in his eyes.

"I've been sick many times before," you found yourself thinking, almost mocking your own situation. The boy seemed to sense your sadness and silence. He raised his hand and gently placed it on your shoulder.

He had already felt he was violating your space by touching you the night before, but the pain of seeing your sick body had pushed that feeling aside. Now, with you safe, he felt he needed your permission, but he couldn't help trying to comfort you, the same person who seemed broken and exhausted when he brought you here.

"Forgive me… you went to the trouble of bringing me to your home because of my actions. This is not appropriate behavior for a girl like me. I apologize profusely for invading your residence like this," you said, lowering your hands to your lap and bowing your head in a formal gesture of apology, even while lying in bed.

Nomura noticed that you referred to yourself merely as a girl, not as a lady, which would have been more appropriate. He understood that what happened yesterday had deeply wounded you, so much so that you began to see yourself as inferior, no longer worthy of being called a lady.

His free hand clenched into a fist as he thought about the castle and the ball from last night. He knew who was responsible for this, and he couldn't help but feel anger. At that moment, all he wanted was to drive a sword through the heart of the crown prince, the first prince, and especially his former best friend.

"Please do not apologize, miss. The events of last night were not your fault, and bringing you to my residence was my decision. I had every right to do so, especially when I saw you in such a vulnerable state," he said in a sweet and gentle tone. You turned your head to look at him, observing those kind eyes that looked at you as they had last night. But just making that movement caused your head to throb again, and you placed a hand on your head, wincing in pain. This made him place his hands on your back, gently guiding you to lie down on the bed.

"Please, miss, you are not in the best condition. Lie down and rest. I will accept nothing but your rest," he insisted. With your eyes squeezed shut from the pain, you allowed yourself to lie back down, sighing as you felt his touch slowly fade away.

Nomura watched as you complied, stepping back slowly. He looked at you with sadness before leaving the room. As he walked down the corridor towards his office, he couldn't help but look at the floor, feeling nothing but anger. Calmly, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. His teeth clenched in fury, and only one thought filled his mind: "I want to kill him!" Finally, he sighed, running his hands through his hair before sitting in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"Even after countless times, or timelines, you remain the same Prince Luka."

"Miss? Your tea." An maid entered the room with a cart carrying a teapot and a white porcelain cup. She sat down on the bed, and you were beginning to feel a bit better. Before you could say anything, the maid delicately placed a tray on your lap and set the cup on it.

You pondered for a moment. You couldn't stay here forever, even if your parents had disowned you. Eventually, you would have to return home just to gather your belongings, assuming your country in this game had indeed expelled you. If so, you needed to plan where to stay, especially since the Diamond Wars were looming.

"But what stage of the game are we in now? I mean, why should I worry? She's the protagonist and a princess, not me. She can handle things on her own," you thought to yourself as you glanced down at your lap. Your head still ached, but it was less intense compared to when you first arrived at the lord's house.

"Miss?" the maid's voice called out, and you lifted your head to look at her. She was pointing to the cup of tea. "Your tea, if you don't drink it, it will get cold." You turned your head, picked up the cup, and murmured a thank you before taking a sip. Lowering the cup, you continued to stare down, then glanced back at your lap.

"If I may ask, do you know of a good area where there might be houses? Preferably in the countryside," you asked calmly, surprising the maid with the sudden question.

"With all due respect, ma'am, why do you ask?"

"I need to find a place before I'm kicked out of home all because the protagonist is a little princess with her harem on her side, not to mention they humiliated me and literally labeled me a liar in front of high-status people and people from other regions," you thought of saying, but bit your tongue and shook your head. "Forget about what I asked," you said, looking down at the empty cup in your hands.

A few minutes of silence passed before the maid carefully took the cup and bowed respectfully before leaving with the cart.

"It's what she said," the maid recounted the situation to the man in front of her, who could only look thoughtfully out the window. "Poor Lady," Nomura thought, watching from the window as the carriage took you back to your home.

"I apologize, my lord, but do you think Lady might be considering moving away?" The thought of you being away from him was making him nervous.

"I need you to deliver a letter for me…"

pt1

"I'll possibly do Part 3."

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@pinkrose1422

[mariasont]

Older, Wiser, Off-Limits - A.H

summary: sweetheart!reader is the newest member of the team, bright eyed and full of question she doesnt realize she shouldnt be asking. hotch is twice her age, has known her father longer than she's been alive, and when a case discussion turns into a conversation about age gaps, hotch is the one to explain exactly why they're so dangerous

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader

warnings: dbf aaron hotchner (he never met the reader before she came to the BAU), reader has major daddy issues, age gap, suggestive discussion about the power imbalance of age gap relationships, pre-relationship pining but hotch has far too much restraint

wc: 1.2k

Hotch's sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and for the first time, the cabin lighting caught on a scar of his left hand, a thin, pale line etched across his knuckles. You hadn't noticed it before. Not in all the weeks since you joined the team — when he passed you case files, when he handed you a cup of coffee, somehow, the imperfection had eluded you. Some profiler you are. It wasn't fresh, not jagged or angry. How hadn't you noticed it before? You wondered how he got it. An old case? An accident in his childhood?

You blinked, ripping your gaze away and staring down at the case file as if sheer willpower could force the words to make sense. But they didn't. They blurred together, unreadable, because your thoughts had strayed elsewhere. Across from you, your boss sat reclined against the leather seat, one arm draped loosely on the armrest. His tie hung unevenly, just a little off-center, his shirt slightly untucked from a long day of work, the kind of disheveled that came only after a successful case. You should look away, really, but the longer your stared, the harder it became.

It wasn't like you hadn't noticed Hotch before, he was hard not to notice. But this pull, this godforsaken gravitational force that seized you every time he was near, that stole the air from your lungs and replaced it with static. It was all-consuming. Debilitating, one might say. You weren't like this, not with anyone. Not with either of the boyfriends you'd had, not even during those early, naive moments when you were first discovering what it meant to be in love.

Now you were thinking maybe you’d never actually been in love. Maybe every so-called relationship before this had been nothing more than placeholders, distractions. The idea gnawed at you, and you shoved it down, locked it away before it could fester.

Because this was absurd. Illogical. He was nearly twice your age. Your father's college roommate. A man who should be off-limits in every conceivable way and yet —

"Let's go over the case file again."

His voice startled you. You snapped your eyes back to him, pulse kicking up a notch when you realized he was watching you. How long had he been watching? How long had you been staring?

"Uh, right," you said, fumbling for the paper. "The case."

Your fingers brushed over the wrong paper first, and you muttered a half-formed apology as you shuffled through the file. When you finally found the right one, you risked a glance up to find him still looking at you. It wasn't the stern, I'm in charge look you recognized at briefings to your immediate relief, but it softer, a little more patient.

He did this after every case and at this point, you were starting to think he enjoyed this, making you go over every case in excruciating detail, combing through victim statements and behavioral patterns like it was a final exam. If it were anyone else, you might have teased him for it, might have joked about him being a tough grader or something equally harmless. But this was Hotch, and he wasn't exactly being critical, but he was definitely measuring you, gauging just how quickly you were learning.

You cleared your throat.

"Um, okay. The whole case kind of revolved around their relationship, right? The age difference?"

Hotch nodded, flipping to another page in his report. "It was a contributing factor, yes."

You hesitated, pressing your teeth into your lip before speaking again. "I guess I just don't really get it."

Hotch glanced up at you, brow raised. "What don't you get?"

"The way everyone kept saying it like it was inevitable, like, just because there was an age gap, the relationship had to be unhealthy." You frowned, tapping your pen against the margin of the paper. "I get that it's a pattern in a lot of cases, but that doesn't mean every older guy dating a younger woman is some kind of predator, right?"

Hotch didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he set his report aside, lacing his fingers together in front of him.

"It's not always malicious," he said slowly, like he was choosing each word with care. “But even when there’s no bad intent, those relationships can slip into something unbalanced, sometimes without either person realizing it’s happening.”

"Because one person has more experience?" You tilted your head to the side.

"That, and because experience changes what you want."

You hesitated, his certainty catching you off guard. He didn’t say it like an opinion, he said it like a fact. Like something he knew firsthand.

 "What do you mean?"

Hotch leaned back, fingers drumming on the table as if he was turning the thought over in his mind before speaking it aloud.

“When you’re younger, your idea of love, of what a relationship should be, is still evolving. You’re figuring out who you are, what you need, what you’re willing to give.” His eyes flicked to yours. "Someone older already knows these things. Which means they know how to steer the relationship in a direction that benefits them.”

"So you think that people in relationships like that are...what? Being manipulated?"

"Not always." His tone was even. "But the dynamic can be hard to navigate. If one person holds more control, whether that's financial, emotional, or just in life experience, it's easy for the other to fall into place around them without realizing it."

That sat uncomfortably in your chest. You didn't think you disagreed with him. But something about it felt... personal.

You weren't naive, you knew how people saw these kinds of relationships. You'd seen it in cases before, in books, in the way people whispered about couples like that. And sure, you understood the bad versions of it. But Hotch was making it sound like an inherent flaw.

"I don't know," you admitted, shaking your head. "I just...I guess I don't see the problem if both people want to be there."

The words felt uncertain, even as you said them. You weren’t sure what you were defending anymore. You’d never been in a relationship with that kind of imbalance, both of your boyfriends had been your age, on equal footing. You’d never had to think about who held more control.

But then there was Hotch. And now, you were thinking about it all the time.

"That's the thing, they might think they do."

Your brows knit together. "And you don't think they actually do?"

He hesitated. Just for a second. But it was the first time in the entire conversation that he did.

"Sometimes," he said, “when you don’t have enough life behind you, it’s easy to mistake infatuation for certainty. To want something before you understand what wanting really means.”

Infatuation.

The word lodged itself in your mind, demanding to be examined. Was that what this was? A temporary fascination wrapped in the illusion of something deeper? Or maybe it was something darker, something tied to the way he made you feel untouchable, safe. 

Or maybe it had nothing to do with him it all. Maybe it was about absence. About the gaps in your life, he seemed to fill. The things your father never gave you. And maybe that was the real problem.

"You talk about it like it's a foregone conclusion."

Hotch tilted his head slightly, studying you. "Wouldn't you say most patterns are?"

You didn’t know how to answer that. There was something too final in the way he said it, something that made your throat feel tight. You felt a little warm again. 

"So, what do you think happens when the younger person does know what they want."

Hotch’s fingers flexed against the armrest, a barely-there movement, but you caught it. His jaw tightened. "Then it's up to the older one to know better."

You were overthinking this. Reading into nothing. He was just explaining the case, same as always. Same as he would with anyone. Just answering a question, one that you asked. There was no weight to his words beyond the conversation itself. This wasn’t something you needed to think about later. This wasn’t something that meant anything.

Still, you shifted in your seat, stretching your legs out, crossing them at the ankle, uncrossing them again, suddenly restless in a way you couldn’t quite name.

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