#and remembering their own vows

[themusicsweetly]

As long as we both shall live

[which-hospital]

mad about what the longest shift did to jan again

(no but when jan was Jan, not the healthiest mother figure but significantly better for teddy than his actual mother, we had the phenomenal situation of the world’s nuclear-est family: a lesbian paramedic, her dying/dead ex husband, their nephew who they use as a replacement for their actual son - THAT’S THE BEST MESSED UP FAMILY UNIT I’VE EVER HEARD)

[fan-de-las-tetas]

damm someone got wild w/ the tags, girl put a whole ass fanfic there

just saw a steddie soulmate au that reminded me of an old trope of having every lie your soulmate ever told written somewhere on your body and I can't stop thinking about Eddie with "I'm fine," scrawled all over

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.�� 

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[victorluvsalice]

Have you considered making a hypothetical forgotten vows version of smiler???

Oh, trust me, it was one of the first things I did. XD I've mentioned this more obliquely in other posts talking about my OT3 (notably the Thanksgiving "I fuckin' love Valicer" post), but here's a specific write up for my "Smiler in A Forgotten Vows AU" idea:

-->This would be one of those "Victor and Smiler knew each other first" AUs, with Victor and Smiler meeting at one of Nell's parties after she invited Dr. Kelman and his "son," maybe a year before the events of Corpse Bride -- the two end up hitting it off and becoming friends, then eventually lovers as their feelings take a turn to the romantic

-->They actually also experiment a bit with hypnosis during this time, because Smiler's actually a talented hypnotist in their own right, and they have some fun with it, with Victor enjoying the way Smiler occasionally fucks with his brain

-->Eventually, though, Victor's arranged marriage to Victoria Everglot is announced by Victor's parents. Victor, not wanting to marry a stranger when he's already in love, attempts to run away with Smiler, but it doesn't go off, instead revealing their relationship to their respective parents; Victor is dragged back to Burtonsville, and Smiler is sent off to rural Lithuania by Kelman to keep them apart. Victor, after an initial attempt to get back to Smiler, learns that they're no longer even in the country and, despairing of ever seeing them again, resigns himself to marrying Victoria

-->Cue the events of Corpse Bride (with Victor being briefly heartened by the fact that Victoria seems very nice and just like the kind of woman he could come to love, and then the whole "accidentally married a dead woman" thing happened, and then he's like "wtf I like the dead woman too the hell"), which lead into the events of the Forgotten Vows verse

-->Nell and William actually do ask Dr. Kelman to come in and make Victor socially compliant during the events of "Losing You"; Kelman, still steamed about Victor "corrupting" his "son," says no

-->When Victor ends up at Houndsditch and befriends Alice, he eventually tells her about his relationship with Smiler -- not all the details, of course, but enough that Alice knows that it was romantic (and that Smiler is a they/them); she asks why he doesn't try to run off to Lithuania himself to find them, and Victor admits that he's pretty sure he'd be caught before he could get any considerable distance away, and he has no idea where he'd start looking for Smiler

-->The rest of the events of "Finding You" and "Forgetting You" happen, along with the beginning of "Remembering You" (June, Dr. Wilson, and Victoria and Christopher White all showing up to help at Houdsditch/restore Victor's memories) -- and then, not long after, there's another knock at the door. Alice answers it to find an anxiously-smiling dark-haired green-eyed stranger on the doorstep, asking about Victor -- when questioned, they say they don't know if Victor mentioned them, but they used to be close: "I'm, uh -- well, I'm calling myself Smiler Alton these days--"

-->Oh Shit It's The Ex.jpg

-->Alice quickly realizes that maybe Smiler might have the best chance of helping get back some of Victor's memories and reintroduces them -- Victor DOES recall Smiler in bits and pieces, but of course Bumby's wall is making things difficult

-->Smiler also quickly picks up on the fact that Alice and Victor are in love now and stresses they don't want to come between them; they just want to have SOME presence in Victor's life (after spending quite a lot of time getting back from rural Lithuania to be with him again)

-->Smiler also smartly decides to tell Victor straight out "we had a relationship, it was sexual, hypnosis was involved" to get it out of the way -- Victor is initially furious ("YOU'RE the reason Bumby found me such a -- a--"), but soon realizes that Smiler of course isn't responsible for what Bumby did and never intended for him to get hurt :( They quickly patch things up, and Smiler does their best to help Victor remember more

-->However -- naturally, as they spend more time together, some old feelings start coming to the forefront. Smiler is awkward because they can see how much Victor and Alice love each other and really DON'T want to come between them (especially since they've become friends with Alice in the meantime); Victor is awkward because he's started having dreams where he's with Alice AND Smiler and of course he's feeling guilty about that

-->And Alice feels a bit jealous of their renewed connection, until Wonderland prompts her to examine her feelings in a little more depth; Alice does so, saying that what scares her is that Smiler will somehow take Victor away from her -- "I don't mind if Victor loves them, I just don't want to lose him! ...wait."

-->Oh Shit I'm Polyamorous?? I At Least Don't Mind Sharing?.jpg

-->Alice initially isn't sure how to bring this up, but then the whole "Victor's in love with both of us" thing comes up (maybe he has another nightmare, they both come to comfort him, and Victor ends up crying about how he's so sorry but he doesn't want to lose EITHER of them), and Alice explains her own feelings; Smiler is like "I don't mind sharing at ALL" and things get better as they decide to secretly have a V relationship

-->How Victor Regains His Memories -- while I love how I did it in the original universe, I feel like the fact that Smiler and Victor's relationship involved Smiler hypnotizing Victor needs to be involved. Specifically in the form of Smiler's old trigger phrase for Victor still working at least partially. Hmmm -- maybe instead of doing it alone in a dream, maybe Victor faces off against the wall while in a trance induced by Smiler, and Smiler and Alice are sitting with him in reality, offering encouragement as he busts his way through and kills the heart; cue delighted hugging and kissing when Victor awakes with his memories back

-->"Fixing You" is still a thing as Victor still has trauma after the fact to deal with, but Smiler comes along for the Wonderland ride (I'm thinking that, when talking to Fixxler about how "Travel Into Fantasy" works, Alice asks if they can somehow daisy-chain it to get it to work with three people (like she casts it for herself and Victor, and Victor casts it for himself and Smiler) -- Fixxler says "I have no idea but give it a try, love to hear the results"), and develops their own Otherland as Victor develops his. There would probably also be some stuff with Smiler dealing with the previous abrupt end of their relationship with Victor (with their anger at Kelman and maybe a little resentment that Victor didn't try harder to find them, even if they KNOW it would have been really hard for Victor to do) and their own worries about ending up an asshole like Bumby or Kelman

-->...Actually, them realizing "wait, Smiler's father is an evil psychiatrist too, even if he's not doing the extra-evil shit Bumby was doing" and somehow taking down him and his Sanctuary probably would be a whole extra story in this version of the verse

-->Endgame would have them all moving in together in Sandford, claiming Smiler needs the help getting back on their feet after returning to England -- if they never move out, and if they seem extremely close to Victor in particular, the people of Sandford mind their own business about it :p

...yeah, uh, definitely thought about this a lot more than I originally realized. XD But then again, producing dozens of AUs for my characters is kind of my THING on here...

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

me when bug like an angel mitski comes on

[serotonins-stuff]

As a boy Katsuki never understood why men cried whenever they saw their bride for the first time.

When it came to his turn to stand at the altar, suited up and slicked back hair,he finally understood why.

His heart is pounding violently against his ribcage, so loud that he can hear it reverberate through his head. His palms were damp, and his gaze stays fixated on the double doers before him. The doors that will soon open to reaveal the love of his life.

His foot meets the floor repeatedly in a tapping motion, and his hands are rough as he shifts his collar side to side. His body litters with goosebumps and involuntary quivers.

He's suddenly grateful for this being a small wedding with only close family and friends. He wouldn't want a large crowd witnessing his nerves get the better of him.

Kirishima smiles though the tears flowing down his face. He's honored to be the best man on his best friends big day, because that means he gets to see the tough Katsuki find pure happiness and put his walls down for the one he loves. If it's enough to make the great lord explosion murdered god dynamite nervous, then it's love that should be cherished.

Katsukis stomach flutters when the pianist begins to play your song.

It's time.

He fiddles with the cuffs of his blazer and submerges the urge to run his hand through his perfectly styled hair.

When he locks eyes with you for the first time that day. It feels as if time itself slowed down. In this moment, every ounce of anxiety he had been carrying fades away. You are radiant under the soft orange glow of the sun, your skin shimmering like a precious diamond. His precious diamond.

His heart dances swiftly against his chest, touching every nerve in his body.

He catches a glimpse of your hands nervously fiddling your dress by your sides and remembers that he isn't alone. You, the love of his life, are sharing the same nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

He begins to see you more clearly as you approach him. The soft glow of your eyes, your perfect lips and curves.

And when he hears his name flow so sweetly from your lips he can't help it. He chokes out a sob, and immediately your hands reach up to gently swipe away his tears.

The audience give a numerous amount of awww's, which cause a smile to tug its way onto his lips.

His glossy eyes stare longingly into yours. "You look beautiful" he whispers.

Saying his vows was the hardest part. He just couldn't stop crying, and the tears wouldn't stop flowing. You were there assuring him and giving him gestures of love. When you started to say your own vows, seeing his redened nose and tear stained face cause tears of your own to flow down your face.

With a gentle yet firm grip his palm finds comfort on the curve of your waist. The minute the officient said you may kiss the bride. Your arms evelop his the soft skin of his neck and your heads tilt to the side as if it's instinct.

This kiss hold a firm yet sweet connection, a silent promise that this love would endure for eternity.

He was finally married to you, his angel, the girl of his dreams. He looked forward to calling you his wife, to starting a family-

Hot tears stream uncontrollably down his face, an explodion of raw emotions he can't contain. His heart swells with overwhelming swarm of love, joy, and deep appreciation, a feeling he once never believed possible.

With a shaky breath, he pulls away softly before resting his forehead on yours. "I love you" he choked "so fuckin much"

You huffed at his cuteness "I love you more Katsuki"

He places one more kiss to your lips, and nuzzles your nose with his.

"Impossible"

[coffeebanana]

some things i've been thinking about (this was supposed to be separate ideas but now i guess it's a rough fic outline in bullet points kasdbfksbjd):

marinette telling adrien the truth YEARS later, after everything's settled down and the butterfly's been recovered and their identities are revealed

maybe they live together. maybe he was getting ready to propose

after his initial shock, anger, time he needs to process, mostly he just wants to understand WHY she lied

when she tells him the she just couldn't bear to hurt him any more than she already had to by telling him his father died, and some part of adrien sees that as his own failing--surely if he'd been stronger, if he'd been the kind of person she thought could handle the truth, then she would have given it

maybe they go to couple's therapy. one of the exercises they're given is to practice honesty with each other and marinette goes... a little overboard

adrien thinks it's sweet, at first. until he realizes she's scared to leave a single second of her day unaccounted for. she's stressing out because she forgot to tell him something minor and he doesn't want him to think she just decided not to tell him something again

he realizes just how much she's been beating herself up about this all these years. just how much she's always loved him despite her mistakes

he remembers the ring he has stashed upstairs

and maybe it's not the time for proposals. but all he can think is that even at their worst, he still wants forever with her

of course, he's never been one for keeping his affections to himself. so he tells her.

it's not a question, it's not an offer. it's a fact: I want to spend the rest of my life with you. i want to marry you. she looks at him like he's crazy, so he pulls out his ultimatum. but i need you to forgive yourself first

all these years, marinette's been secretly awaiting her punishment. secretly awaiting having to pay for what she's done. forgiving herself was never on the table

do you forgive me, she asks in a quiet voice

i don't know, he says, and marinette's heart sinks until he adds, but i know i want to

and in the end, it's not so hard for him to get there. for him to forgive one decision she made under the worst possible circumstances. one mistake in the midst of all the ways she's made him feel safe and wanted and loved. all the times she's held his hand or helped wipe his tears, all the times she's let him do the same for her

when it comes time to exchange vows, for better or worse is already something they've agreed to

[nikovraskol]

What were the reactions from the family in the original timeline where reader died?

masterlist - crack baby

if u saw alfred being mentioned .. no u didnt i forgot he was dead oopsy poopsy

soul crushing guilt.

the moon is high in the sky, and everyone's gearing up for patrol, though they can each tell that there's a strange blanket of silence around the manor.

bruce is perplexed, but it's fine -- he's probably just tired, it's probably nothing.

then he sees your lifeless body in an alley and he's fighting tears, his stomach churning as he gazes down at you -- his poor baby, lying in a pool of your own blood, your eyes glazed over, lifeless.

when jason died, he vowed to never let another one of his children die ever again, not like this. so why? you weren't even a vigilante, you were just.

he dives himself into work, searching for the bastards responsible for your death, when he finds them -- he'll give them a firm beating, he'll convey his anger, not as batman but as bruce wayne.

dick is absolutely devasted, he can't bring himself to look at your body, his poor baby. you must've felt soso alone, scared as you bleed out. he wishes he could've spent more time with you, wishes that he took you out for dinner that one time. he buries himself in hero work, much like bruce, trying to distract himself -- but it doesn't work! everything reminds him of you. he wishes he could've seen you smile so widely at him, just one more time.

jason, on the other hand, doesn't try to distract himself. he reaches forward and searches for the murderes with a deep sense of rage. he understands you, he does! he knows what it feels like to be neglected, forgotten -- pushed aside as an afterthought as bruce pushes in another sibling in a place that should've been yours, you could've opened up to him, he could've looked back at you. he feels a burning hot rage, an itch for revenge -- but beneath his anger is a deep sense of vulnerability. of the knowledge that he failed you, his precious sibling. he doesn't think he can forgive himself.

tim doesn't believe it at first. you got shot on your way home from work? what a silly joke. and then he takes in the sullen expression on bruce's face and he faced with a deep sense of hopelessness. how .. unexpected. he doesn't know how to move on, you didn't play an intengral role in his life but as the days pass he's acutely aware of the small things you did that affected him, the way you would boil water before you went to bed for him, or how you'd leave some painkillers on the counter -- all those small things that seemed to meaningless to him, he's forced to acknowledge his own shortcomings as your brother. he doesn't know how to move on, he doesn't want to move on.

damian, poor damian, he's crushed. you're dead? you? his older sibling? sure, he may have bullied you since the moment you stepped into the manor, not once did he show you positive affection. but he cares for you! in his own, twisted way! he's faced with crushing guilt, unable to look in the mirror without seeing you -- without seeing the resigned expression on your lifeless face. he always knew you were weak, but dying to a few bullets? that's--.. he can't bring himself to belittle you, not anymore, not with the suffocating guilt he's forced to face.

they have no memories of you, aside from the small child you were, shyly observing from afar -- to the lifeless body you are now. they scavange for every picture they could find, anything they can to remember you by!

if only they had a chance to redo it, to show you just how much you mean to them. :(

[lumiambrose]

Sae Itoshi never strays from his morning routine.

From opening the window to his morning kombucha, it’s always the same. That is, until you came around.

Golden sunlight filters through the curtains as Sae shifts awake. His body clock wakes him up relatively early, so he’s not surprised to find you still fast asleep, nestled gently in his arms.

He takes in your slumbering form—the way your chest rises and falls softly, your hair messy, and your arm resting ever so lightly holding his own. You’re perfect, he thinks to himself. His beautiful lover, lost in the land of dreams, all for his eyes to take in.

Although he doesn’t allow himself to linger any longer. The grasp you once held on his arm slowly loosens as he wriggles out of your hold, gently to not disturb you.

It pains him to see you cling aimlessly to the air instead of him, but he has a busy day ahead of him and can’t afford to waste time.

That is, until he hears a faint whimper from across the room. To his dismay, he instantly recognises the sound. Putting his clothes down and turning around only to find your slumbering figure writhing slightly, letting out small sounds of discontent.

He curses himself inwardly. Putting you in such a painful situation makes his heart clench. Is he really that heartless? Not for you. He vowed to never make you sad, awake, or asleep.

“Mierda, amor,” he murmurs, slipping off the clothes he’d just put on before quietly sliding back into his spot beside you. Pulling your restless body into a warm embrace, one that assures him that he made the right decision.

“I’m sorry, angel. Didn’t know you’d be that restless without me.” He whispers, tracing soft patterns on your arm. “I’ll stay as long as you need me here.” He places a soft kiss on the back of your head, allowing himself to fall back into slumber for the first time he can remember.

All because of you.

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[mochie85]

Have Mercy

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You're a powered being with healing abilities and you try to bring Loki back from the brink of death. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 1832 Warnings: Fluff, heavy kissing, slapping, mentions of death (close call), injury, a very flirty Loki,

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you all started the ambush. Tall sequoias canopied above blocking the setting sun. The air was thick with smoke and heavy from the fighting. You heard multiple teammates calling for healing, but none was louder than Thor. His troubled voice blasted through the comms, “Medic! We need a healer quickly!” His deep command tore you away from the battle you were in and you fought your way over to him. “Priestess, please! Come quick!”

Through fire and volley, you found Thor kneeling on the ground with Loki in his arms. Lifeless. Steve was circling them, trying to shield the brothers from a barrage of attacks.

You knelt on the ground. Your knees hit soft mud as your eyes scanned Loki’s body. His sharp face was paler than usual. Blue-ish tint had started to stain his lips. And your naïve-self hoped it was just because of the cold seeping from the wet ground. “Thor, I’ll take it from here. Go help Steve. I can’t worry about my life when I have to worry about his!”

Thor nodded to you. But before he laid Loki down, he whispered in his ear, “I know you are stronger than this, brother. But I swear on Yggdrasil if you are pretending, I will not hesitate to cleave Stormbreaker into you.” Thor sniffed and placed him down to the ground.

You nodded your head and patted Thor’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” you feigned, as you tried to get a better look at what had happened. You didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that you could feel how thin and fragile Loki’s life string was. A hair, compared to the cord that we all have. Worse, the thick rope that the Asgardian’s life used to be. You didn’t even know if you were skilled enough to weave it stronger.

There was a large gaping hole that tore Loki’s chest plate. His skin had burned and was raw from the impact. You couldn’t see any entry wounds. Nor blood. But the bruising and dent on his chest was not a good sign. A stray missile, perhaps? Maybe jumping in the way to save his brother. They vex each other constantly. But deep down they care for each other like most siblings do.

You straddled his body, holding your two hands out, placing them over his wound. A soft resonance emitted from your palm down to his skin. You kept your hands on him as the pulse of your powers worked their way through his body. You can see tiny mends of his scrapes and scratches. The raw skin around the wound had returned to their usual pallor.  He’s reacting at least. There’s still some life in him- whatever little is left.

You persisted. With every pulse, you can see his wounds healing. Ribs cracking back into place. The blue on his lips retreated ever so slowly. But his lifeline was stubborn. If you could hold out just long enough, his own regenerative powers might kick in.

Grasping at straws, your mind quickly raced with ideas to help speed the process along. You remembered that sometimes, shock was a good way of knocking someone back into the land of the living. “Ugh, don’t get mad at me, okay? I’m only trying to save your life,” you vowed out loud in case he was able to hear you. You quickly pulled your palm back and slapped Loki hard across his cheek.

Small capillaries burst where your hand met his face. Aside from the new hue, Loki had remained the same. Still and quiet. His line fading from your grasp. You panicked at your failed attempt.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t know how to tell Thor that you couldn’t save his only brother. Ideas and thoughts ran past your mind all muddled and incoherent. Ways and spells. Teachings and theories you’ve learned on healing and regeneration.

You cupped Loki’s cheek, healing the bruise you had left. Your brows knit together, puzzled as to what to do next. Hopeless in feeling and thought. You didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to see Thor’s face and have to tell him an awful truth. They had just reunited this past year. It wasn’t fair. And it would be all your fault because you couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Loki. Your heart turned solemn as angry tears threatened to drop from your eyes.

By now the fighting had stopped. You didn’t realize how quiet the world had gotten around you. How still the air was from flying projectiles or weapons. The team gathered loosely. Giving you space to try and save Loki’s life, but the look on their faces betrayed the faith they were trying to offer you.

Your thumb brushed Loki’s cheek, wiping away the mud that speckled his face. He would’ve been appalled if he knew where Thor had left him on the ground. You smirked at the thought as your thumb rested on his chin and traced his lips.

His cold lips opened slightly at your touch, and you were struck with an idea.  You grabbed both sides of his leather collars and brought him to sit up towards you. His slack weight was heavier than you anticipated, and it took your remaining strength to sit him upright. You closed your eyes as your lips crashed into his, honing your powers into that desperate kiss.

You had never done this before. You had never needed to do this before. But you were hoping that your breath of life could pass onto him and carry him through till his own powers could take over. You sucked hard on his upper lip, not wanting to break any contact. Your fingers entwined themselves in his hair, desperate to keep him close to you. “Please. Please. Please,” you whispered into his mouth. Tears fell from your eyes and landed on his cheek. Your arms wrapped around his neck, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to accept the truth.

Still, you continued.

You felt a low rumble from his chest. A hopeful sign that it’s working. You just needed to hold on a little bit longer! You opened your lips for a breath of your own. And when you closed your mouth around his, your power pulsated in between you.

You felt his temperature return first. The warmth in his lips, the heat in his breath. You could feel his lifeline winding itself tighter and stronger.

His mouth returned your kiss. Sluggish and tentative. But they held on to your lips, tightly. His hands embraced your hips so delicately you didn’t even know they were there. You naturally leaned into the kiss more. Your power still pulsing through you. One last intake of breath and you passed it along towards Loki.

His grip tightened around you and he pulled you closer onto his lap. His arms snaked around you, holding your head close to his, unwilling to let you go.  You could hear small groans and heavy panting. But you honestly didn’t know whether it came from you or from Loki.

His tongue touched your lips, asking for entry. Catching your breath you opened your mouth once again and Loki gainfully ran his tongue inside against the roof of your mouth.

You didn’t realize that your powers had finished. With nothing left to heal, your powers subsided. But you were so lost in the kiss that you had forgotten where you were and what you were doing. Slowly, you pulled away. But Loki’s kiss followed you unwilling to release you. You bit his bottom lip as a warning, holding his face in between your hands.

“Darling, what an indecent way to ask me out,” Loki grinned from ear to ear. His voice was rough and garbled. He kept his face close to yours, running his nose against your cheek. “I accept!”

The world came crashing back around you. The time. The place. The situation. The shock froze you in place just staring into Loki’s blue-green eyes. “I always thought you harbored affections for me. But now I am certain,” he taunted.

You slapped him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to do. You felt betrayed somehow. Tricked. Even though you knew that he was genuinely in peril. The fact that he was joking about it even now, irked you.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed as he slowly turned his head to face you again. His chin jutted out, trying to contain the smirk that was coming forth. “Is that how you like it?”

You tried to push yourself off of him. You’ve had enough of his antics. You were utterly embarrassed at being caught in this situation. Especially with the team around, surely watching.

He caught your wrists as you pushed on his chest, stopping you. “Do it again,” he commanded. His grin was out in full force now. Dazzling you to the last inch of your nerve.

“Ugh, the thanks I get for saving your life!” pushing him down as you stood yourself up. “Next time I’ll just leave you limp in the mud.” You sneered, walking away with your head held high and your face heated and red. From humiliation or from desire, you didn’t know.

“Well, that’s very hard to do when you’re kissing me like that, my angel,” Loki yelled after you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you angry and flustered. All because of him. Oh, I’m in trouble.

“What do I gotta do to get a kiss like that?” Bucky asked teasingly as you stomped passed him.

“Die!” you growled back at him. The words felt mean as they left your mouth. And you regretted saying them instantly. He was only trying to lighten the situation. But you couldn’t help the shame you had inside you.

“Oh, c’mon doll. I was only teasing.” Bucky raised his arms in defeat and followed you back to the quinjet, laughing.

“Loki!” Thor scolded as he held his hand to his brother, helping him up. “I hope that you were not deceiving us just to try and gain favor with the priestess. I know you’ve been seeking her affections.”

“Brother! I am genuinely hurt! Did you not see me lying there at the last inch of my life?” Loki contended, pointing to the ground where he once laid.

Thor rolled his eyes but smirked, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He was glad to have his brother back once again. “She’s very talented that one. And I do not want to see her get hurt, Lo-. Loki are you listening to me.”

Loki was at a loss for words, watching you. “She gave me my life back, brother. I have felt her lips against mine and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel them again soon.” Loki smiled as he swatted away Thor’s hand on him. His eyes solely on you, plotting how to get you to kiss him again.

➡️ When The Ball Drops (Sequel)

A/N: I know it's been awhile. I do plan on finishing my series' soon. Thanks for staying with me. Life has been hard and you guys get me through it.

🏷️ @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish @capswife @dangertoozmanykids101 @shadycloudcollection @annoyingsweetsstranger @alyeskathewave @xxjust-a-kidxx @tallseaweed @liliacdreamer @stevihj +more in the comments

[entirelytoooobsessed]

needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post

synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.

warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it

The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.

What a delightful feeling. 

What a human desire. 

“Touch me.” 

The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 

“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 

“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.

“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 

“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 

“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.

Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 

You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.

You don’t mind now.

“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 

He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”

His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.

The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 

With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?

“Hmm? Just what?” 

He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 

You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.

But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.

Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.

Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 

Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.

But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.

He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.

You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.

“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.

 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 

You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”

He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.

You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”

You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 

You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.

The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.

A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.

Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.

“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 

His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.

Perhaps…

“Kiss me.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”

He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.

“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”

“You know we can’t. You-“

“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”

A losing fucking battle. 

Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 

All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.

 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.

He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 

It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 

He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 

Just like he told you to do.

He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 

You’d show him what real ascension felt like.

You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.

To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.

You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 

He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”

You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 

And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.

In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.

Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 

He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.

But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.

So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.

Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.

Like he wants you to.

He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”

Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 

Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 

He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.

And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.

He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.

He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.

For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.

But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.

Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.

But he stops you.

His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.

Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.

"I promise, I will."

And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.

Just you.

"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."

He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.

But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.

To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.

His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.

"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."

He always has been one for dramatics.

His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.

"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.

He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.

And he's crying. And he's beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.

"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"

You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 

"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.

“Satoru,” And he shakes.

“Satoru,” And he sobs.

“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.

“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.

Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.

Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.

Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.

Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.

"You love me right?"

You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.

But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.

"Do you love me?"

You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.

"I do love you Satoru."

And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.

But that doesn't matter.

Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.

"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.

And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”

“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”

You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Accidentally Falling For a Fae Prince - Malleus Draconia x reader

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

Series Masterlist

Work’s been a disaster from the moment you stepped in. Your boss, who makes dollar bills while you’re lucky to scrape together a few dimes, is in one of those moods. So, instead of pretending to be productive, you do what any rational person would do: you pull up a random webnovel website and let the ridiculousness wash over you.

And oh boy, is it ridiculous.

You start reading "The Villainess's Revenge: My Heart is Colder Than Lukewarm Tea!" and, within the first chapter, you realize it’s like watching cement dry—but with less plot development. The villainess is cartoonishly evil, stomping around in ballgowns with a sneer so exaggerated it’s a wonder her face hasn’t permanently locked in place. Her tragic backstory? She once got served lukewarm tea. And, oh no, she stepped in mud at a ball. The horror. Riveting stuff, truly.

Meanwhile, the heroine? She’s clearly phoning it in. Every scene she’s in, her eyes are dead inside like she’s as exhausted as you are by the sheer nonsense of the plot. If this girl could quit her own story, she would’ve done it yesterday. You can't help but mentally send her your condolences.

Then, there’s the male leads. If you can even call them that.

First, the Crown Prince, whose idea of a crisis is a fashion faux pas. This guy once canceled a whole wedding because his socks didn’t match. His spirals into existential crises every time a thread is out of place would be entertaining if it weren’t so tragic. The way he’s written, you swear he could kill a man with a critical stare over improper cufflinks.

Next up, the Duke. Brooding, romantic, and absolutely incapable of writing good poetry. Every time he spots the heroine, he launches into the worst rhymes you’ve ever heard. It’s so bad that you’re embarrassed for both of them. He follows her everywhere, reading his masterpieces at the most inappropriate times—like during a funeral. Who does that?

And finally, the Hero Knight. Ah, the knight. The epitome of overzealous stupidity. He turned grocery shopping into a three-day quest for the “Golden Lettuce of Destiny,” and vowed to defend the heroine’s honor from…nobody. You’d swear he’s larping 24/7. It’s exhausting just reading about him.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the heroine ends up in a polycule with all of them because the author was so sick of comments asking, “Who will she date?” that they just threw their hands up and went, “Fine, she dates everyone!” The heroine looks exhausted, and you feel for her. You feel for yourself, too, because reading this is actively lowering your IQ.

You sit there, flabbergasted, staring at the screen. This is what you’ve chosen to waste your time on? What’s worse, your boss will probably come around the corner any minute to scold you—oh wait, nope, the corner of the ceiling just gave out and bonk—there goes a chunk of plaster, right on your head.

You cannot believe this is how you get taken out.

You wake up and, somehow, it’s worse. You’re in a four-poster bed, covered in satin sheets, and your first thought is goddammit—you’ve been isekai’d. And not just into any world. That world. The webnovel.

You drag yourself out of bed, feeling a sudden wave of dread. You were the heroine in this mess. The heroine. Goddammit, why does everything bad only happen to you? For a moment, you're relieved you’re not the villainess. But then you remember: you’re stuck in a polycule with three absolute clowns.

Nope. Not happening. You will not end up with any of these pushy idiots. Goal one? Avoid the polycule at all costs.

Suddenly, the door flies open with a bang, and in burst all three male leads, dramatically weeping and crying out how you’ve been in a coma for so long. Their over-the-top emotions would be heartwarming if they weren’t so ridiculous.

“You’ve returned to us, my dearest flower of the kingdom!” the Crown Prince sobs, still perfectly dressed despite the tears streaming down his face. He sniffs and dabs his eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with his own face. Of course.

The Duke starts reciting the worst love poem you've ever heard, right there, in the middle of your room, as if you didn’t just wake up from a coma.

“I wandered, lost, like a daisy in a field of… uh… misery, because you, my sun, were hidden in the sky of my heart…” The rest is a blur because your brain has officially short-circuited.

And the Hero Knight? He’s already on his knees, swearing to protect you from whatever invisible threat he’s made up this time. “Fear not, fair lady! I shall defend thee against all who oppose your grace!”

You manage to kick all of them out of your room with a lot of effort and a lot of heavy glares. The moment you’re alone, you find a suicide note on the dresser, written by the actual heroine. Apparently, she drank poison just to get away from these weirdos.

What an icon.

But not you. You’re not dying again for these guys. No way.

You’re moving through the bustling market in full disguise, keeping an eye out for any knights or familiar faces. Your plan is simple: escape the polycule before any of those nutjobs track you down. With every step, you remind yourself that freedom is just one boat ride away—preferably to a distant land that has no idea who the Hero Knight, the Duke, or the crown prince are.

But as you round a corner, your thoughts scatter when you bump—quite literally—into something solid. You stagger back, blinking up at a tall figure dressed in all black. At first, panic flashes through you—please don’t be one of them—but when your eyes meet his, it’s not the Crown Prince, the Duke, or the Hero Knight.

It’s someone new. And he seems… perfectly pleasant. His strikingly elegant features, crowned by horns, should make him imposing, but his eyes soften as he looks at you. There’s an almost serene curiosity in them.

"Ah, forgive me," he says smoothly, his deep voice lilting with a formality that surprises you. "I didn’t see you there."

"No, no, it’s my fault," you reply, awkwardly waving your hands, trying to figure out why he’s so different from everyone else in this place. He’s polite. Polite. Already, you feel better about this encounter than you have about every conversation with the three other disasters that have been stalking you.

He steps aside, but instead of walking away, he looks around the marketplace with a faint, thoughtful frown. “I seem to have… lost my way,” he admits, glancing back at you. “This place is unfamiliar to me.”

Something in his tone, in the way his eyes briefly widen as he takes in the simplest market stalls—like he’s genuinely fascinated—makes you soften toward him. Ugh, bleeding heart strikes again. Before you know it, you find yourself asking, “Do you need help? I can… show you around.”

He turns his gaze back to you, and his lips quirk into the smallest, softest smile. “That would be most appreciated.”

As you walk together, he marvels at the simplest things—the fresh bread from a stall, the colorful fabrics, the scent of flowers sold at a cart. He’s curious about everything, eyes lingering on each sight like it’s the first time he’s ever seen such mundane wonders. His fascination is oddly endearing. It’s clear he’s not used to mingling in places like this, and his awe at the most normal things is… well, cute.

"Have you ever seen so many people in one place?" you ask, trying to fill the silence, though you’re surprised to find that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

He chuckles lightly. “Not in such a casual setting, no. It’s quite… charming. Everything feels so alive.”

You almost snort at the idea that this guy finds a basic market so thrilling, but you keep it in check. At least he’s not another drama king like the Crown Prince or a bad poet like the Duke.

It’s been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon until your luck inevitably runs out. You spot the familiar, impeccably dressed figure of the Crown Prince moving through the crowd with his knights. He’s scanning the area, and panic rises in your throat.

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath. Instinctively, you grab the man’s sleeve, tugging him down the nearest alley. “We need to go. Now.”

He blinks, looking puzzled but not resisting. “Is something wrong?”

Yes! you think, your mind flashing to the emotional wreck that is the prince. "No time to explain. Just trust me."

But you’re too late. The Crown Prince, in all his resplendent, overly perfect glory, catches sight of you just as you’re about to disappear into the shadows.

“Well, well,” the prince calls out with an overly bright smile. “If it isn’t my darling—oh!” His eyes widen as he finally notices the tall figure standing next to you. “Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley!”

You blue screen.

Your grip loosens on Malleus’s sleeve as your brain sputters. Prince. Fae Prince. You’d just been casually chatting with the Prince of Briar Valley like he was some random lost guy? Did you seriously just… You internally spiral as the realization sinks in. Of course, he's a prince! The horns! The aura!

Malleus, for his part, remains calm and collected, inclining his head toward the Crown Prince. “Ah, it seems I’ve been found,” he says smoothly, completely unaware of the crisis currently happening inside your head.

The Crown Prince gives Malleus a florid bow, then immediately turns his attention back to you. “My dear, you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone. Allow me to escort you to the palace.” His hand reaches out toward you, his smile practiced and princely, but your gut clenches with discomfort. No, nope, no thanks.

You step back instinctively, your unease written all over your face. Before you can even figure out how to politely decline without causing a scene, Malleus moves.

Malleus, who up until now was watching the exchange with mild curiosity, steps forward. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks the Crown Prince up and down. The prince stumbles over his words and backs away under the weight of Malleus’ stare.

The Crown Prince’s smile falters. He hesitates, glancing between you and Malleus, clearly unsure how to proceed. “I—um—of course, Prince Malleus, I didn’t mean to overstep,” he stammers, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.

You stand there, stunned, watching as Malleus’ mere presence makes the most annoyingly confident man in the kingdom back off. Is this real life?

The prince clears his throat awkwardly, then shoots you one last uneasy smile before making a swift retreat with his knights, leaving you standing there with Malleus.

You let out a long, relieved breath and glance up at him, feeling a little less like you’re about to lose your mind. “Thanks… for that.”

Malleus’ lips quirk into a tiny, knowing smile. “It was my pleasure.” He tilts his head, eyes still twinkling with that same curiosity from earlier. “Although, I must admit, I’m rather curious why you were so eager to avoid him.”

You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “Let’s just say… he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

You don't know how you’ve ended up in this mess. One minute, you’re lost in the market, trying to figure out how to escape this ridiculous polycule situation, and the next, you’ve been dragged into a carriage on your way to the palace—with the Crown Prince, your overly dramatic Knight, and the Fae Prince himself.

Malleus, the Fae Prince, had politely asked if you would accompany him to the palace, and in a panic, you said yes. Because, really, how could you admit to both him and the Crown Prince that you’d actually been planning to skip town? So now, here you are, sitting through the most awkward carriage ride of your life.

Your knight, perched beside you, clears his throat dramatically. “Fear not, my lady,” he says in a voice filled with too much gravitas for the situation. “I shall protect you from all perils! Should the wind itself dare to brush against your delicate frame, I shall strike it down with my blade! No harm shall come to you so long as I draw breath!”

You facepalm internally. Please. Stop talking.

The Crown Prince, sitting across from you, adjusts his cufflinks for the tenth time. “I must say,” he purrs, fishing for compliments, “this outfit is particularly resplendent today, don’t you think? The shade of royal blue brings out the depth in my eyes. It was hand-tailored, of course. What do you think, my dear?”

You blink at him, trying to process whether he’s serious. He is. He’s absolutely serious.

Malleus watches the exchange in silent confusion, his eyes flicking between the three of you as if trying to figure out if this is normal human behavior. After all, you’ve got one guy swearing to kill the breeze, another obsessed with his reflection, and you, trying to melt into the upholstery.

“Is this… how humans typically behave?” Malleus asks, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

You shake your head vigorously. “No. This is how clowns behave.” Malleus raises an eyebrow but seems satisfied with your answer, settling back into his seat.

When the carriage finally—finally—arrives at the palace, you’re barely holding onto your sanity. But things are about to get worse.

As you’re ushered into the meeting hall, a trio approaches you. It’s Lilia, Silver, and… Sebek.

Sebek, who looks one step away from a full-blown aneurysm.

"Lord Malleus!" Sebek practically screeches, running toward Malleus like the world was ending. “How could you wander off on your own?! Do you know how much chaos you caused?! I almost fainted from sheer terror!”

Malleus doesn’t even flinch. “I had a guide.” He gestures toward you.

Sebek’s eyes land on you, and you quickly glance around for an escape route. “YOU?! YOU DARED TOUCH—”

Before Sebek can finish, you spot the Duke—one of your many suitors and part of the delegation—striding toward you with his usual brooding expression. You instinctively grab onto Malleus’ sleeve for some comfort (or maybe protection from what’s about to come next).

The Duke’s eyes light up as he sees you, and then… he begins to recite. “Oh, my dearest, like the moon that doth gleam upon a cheese plate—no, wait—upon a field of… toes? Your hair, like the petals of wilted roses in the rain... um… and your eyes… they are like two potatoes, cooked to perfection…”

Even Sebek is speechless. You think you see a vein pop on his forehead, but for once, he’s too stunned to yell.

Lilia, standing beside Sebek, chuckles, amused. “Well, I have to say, that’s… quite something.”

Malleus tilts his head, blinking at the Duke’s strange poetry. “Are potatoes considered a form of flattery in human culture?”

“No,” you mutter. “No, they’re not.”

Just when you think things can’t possibly get more absurd, the meeting begins. Because you’re technically the daughter of a Duke, you’re forced to sit through the whole ordeal. They start discussing the logistics of showing the fae delegation around the city.

“We need someone trustworthy to act as a guide,” one of the officials says, glancing toward the Crown Prince.

Malleus, who had been quietly observing the room, suddenly speaks up. “I believe I’ve already found the perfect guide.”

You freeze. No. No, no, no.

“The young lady who helped me in the market,” Malleus continues, looking directly at you.

The room falls silent. You, of all people, are the last person who wants to be anywhere near the fae delegation or, worse, your insane suitors. But before you can even open your mouth to refuse, the Crown Prince starts.

“My dear,” he says, leaning forward with a princely grin, “while I understand you’ve already formed an acquaintance with Prince Malleus, perhaps it would be better for someone more… experienced to take on this role.” He flashes his most charming smile, which, after everything today, only makes you cringe.

But Malleus just stares at him, completely unbothered. “No. I want her as my guide.”

Silver shifts slightly, glancing at you with an expression you can’t quite place, while Lilia’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “How interesting,” Lilia murmurs, clearly entertained by the situation.

Sebek, however, explodes. “IF LORD MALLEUS WANTS HER AS HIS GUIDE, THEN SO BE IT!” He turns toward the Crown Prince, practically vibrating with anger. “YOU WILL NOT QUESTION HIS DECISION!”

The Crown Prince, for once, looks genuinely taken aback. “I—I meant no offense! Of course, whatever Lord Malleus desires…”

You sink into your chair, feeling like your last chance at a peaceful life just flew out the window. Malleus turns to you with an expectant, polite smile. “I look forward to our time together.”

You groan inwardly. How is this my life?

You had to admit, Malleus was really nice. When you compared him to the absolute circus of clowns you had to deal with, he was practically a gift sent from above. So, you made a decision—if you were going to be his guide, you were going to be the best guide ever. And once they wrapped up this whole diplomatic visit, you'd beg him to take you with him to Briar Valley, where hopefully, your ridiculous suitors would be very far away.

Apparently, being a guide also meant dragging him along to everything you did, including navigating high society. This was where things got tricky. The original heroine had endured these events like a pro, but you? You were just a lowly office worker who'd read bad webnovels to avoid work. Now you were living in one.

First stop: a tea party.

As you sit down with Malleus beside you—who’s awkwardly perched in a chair much too small for him—you scan the room. Of course, all three of your ridiculous suitors are here. The Crown Prince, obsessing over the intricate lace of his cravat. The Hero Knight, sharpening his sword for no reason in the middle of a garden party. And the Duke, scribbling poetry on a napkin with all the grace of a sleep-deprived teenager finishing their homework five minutes before class.

But this wasn’t just about them. This was also your first time meeting the so-called villainess.

The villainess arrived like a whirlwind of petticoats and extravagant headpieces, smiling in that "I'm about to ruin your whole existence" kind of way. You smiled back, trying not to look dead inside when she launched into a diatribe about ruffles.

"And you see," she said, flickering her wrist with an air of superiority, "it was positively scandalous! The seamstress gave me a gown with only forty ruffles. Can you imagine? What am I, a commoner?"

You tried to smile politely. Truly. But Malleus, seated beside you, was staring at her with this fascinated look, as if watching a rare bird display its feathers. You could tell he was having a hard time grasping what the point of her story was. So were you.

But then, of course, the conversation turned personal.

“And the Duke,” the villainess said with a sly smirk, “such a poetic soul. He deserves better than to pine over someone who clearly has no appreciation for his art. Don’t you think?”

You blinked. Was this woman for real? You glanced at the Duke, who had suddenly gone from scribbling to gazing at you with that awful puppy-dog look. The one that meant another horrible poem was probably brewing.

You couldn’t help it. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Please take him.”

The villainess's eyes widened. “What?”

Malleus looked at you in amusement, while the Duke gasped dramatically, as if you’d just run him through with a sword.

You clasped your hands together and leaned forward earnestly. “Please, please take him. I don’t want him. At all. He’s all yours. You can have him—along with his potato-themed poems.”

The Duke visibly wilted. “But—! My lady! You—you wound me!”

“No, Duke, you wound me—with your terrible metaphors,” you deadpan. “And I’m begging you. Take him. Please. For the love of everything holy, I’m begging you.”

The villainess, probably for the first time in her life, looked completely flustered. “Are you… serious?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding. “I will sign papers. I’ll throw a party. I’ll—whatever it takes. Just… he’s yours.”

Malleus and Lilia were practically shaking with barely-contained laughter at this point, while the Duke had dropped to one knee, a napkin-clutched in his hand like some sad bouquet. “My poems… they were written with you in mind. Each line! Each stanza! Crafted from the depths of my heart!”

“Exactly,” you said, unblinking. “That’s why I need you to take him. Before he writes more.”

The villainess stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Then, after a pause, she broke into a smile. “Well, I’ve never had a man gifted to me before. I suppose I can make an exception.”

You felt like you could cry with relief. “Thank you.”

And just like that, your beef with the villainess was squashed. You traded your tragic suitor for peace of mind, and the villainess, now on the receiving end of the Duke’s “affections,” seemed pleased with her new prize.

Malleus leaned in, his voice low but filled with amusement. “I must say, you handled that quite well.”

You sighed, finally able to relax. “I handled that with desperation.”

And just like that, you’d rid yourself of two your problems. Now… to figure out how to survive the other two without losing your sanity.

You barely had time to process your victory over one villainess before a second one spawned out of nowhere like this was some kind of twisted video game. The Isekai Overlords clearly weren’t done with you yet. And this one? Oh, she was worse. The Crown Prince’s younger sister—spoiled princess extraordinaire—who genuinely believed her father was the reason the sun rose in the morning.

But, to your surprise, she didn’t even care about you. Like, at all. She acted like you didn’t even exist. Honestly? You were grateful. At least you could blend into the background this time and—oh no. Oh no.

She was making a beeline straight for Malleus.

You watched, horrified, as the princess latched onto him, throwing herself at him like he was a rare limited-edition collectible and not, you know, the Prince of Briar Valley and one of the most powerful beings in the world. Malleus shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to handle the situation, while Sebek was being barely restrained by Lilia and Silver. Lilia, of course, had that mischievous glint in his eye, like he was enjoying the whole ordeal.

You, on the other hand, were not enjoying it. You could practically see your retirement plans shriveling up in front of you—this had diplomatic nightmare written all over it. If Malleus so much as sneezed, you were pretty sure this princess would declare war on Briar Valley.

So, you did the only thing you could think of: you stepped in.

“Um, excuse me, Your Highness,” you said, stepping between the princess and Malleus. “Could you maybe… not cling to him like he’s a handbag?”

She turned to you with a look of utter disdain, like you were a fly she was too annoyed to swat away. “And who are you, exactly?”

Before you could answer, she pointed an accusatory finger at you. “I challenge you to a duel! For his hand!”

You blinked. “Bro, what?”

The princess huffed. “For the hand of Prince Malleus, of course! You think I didn’t see you fawning over him?”

“Fawning? I’m literally just his guide!” You gestured to Malleus, who, for some reason, looked almost giddy. “I’m not dating him, we’re not engaged, and if you push it, we’re maybe friends.”

Malleus practically beamed at the word “friends.” Was he… happy about this? About being defended like some damsel in distress? You were defending the most powerful fae in existence, and here he was, looking like you just made his entire year.

Sebek and Silver immediately stepped forward, but before they could say anything, Malleus raised a hand. “No. I would like to see how my guide—and friend—defends my honor.”

Your brain short-circuited. What?!

The princess smirked, clearly thinking she had you cornered. “Prepare yourself for the duel then! My personal knight will face you.”

You glanced at the knight, a towering figure who looked like he’d been training for war since birth, and then back at the sword that had been thrust into your hands. This was not how you imagined your day going. You hadn’t even touched a sword before. Meanwhile, your opponent was stretching like this was a warm-up exercise.

Still, you had no choice. With a deep breath and the knowledge that you were about to make a complete fool of yourself, you stepped forward, sword held awkwardly in front of you.

The duel began.

The knight lunged at you with a practiced, fluid motion. You, on the other hand, tripped over a rock, accidentally ducking his strike, and in your flailing attempt to stay upright, the hilt of your sword smacked him right in the face.

There was a collective gasp from the audience.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

The knight staggered, his face scrunched in confusion. He tried again, this time swinging from the side. You managed to parry—purely out of luck—and in the process, tripped forward, sending your sword clattering out of your hands and somehow knocking the knight’s legs out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Dead silence followed.

You stood there, frozen, your sword lying a few feet away. The knight was on his back, staring up at the sky, clearly bewildered by what had just happened. You hadn't even swung properly!

Lilia burst out laughing. “My, my! That was quite the duel! You’ll have to take responsibility now.”

“Responsibility?” you echoed, flustered beyond belief. “For what? I just—he tripped! I tripped! That wasn’t even—”

“Exactly,” Lilia teased. “You won the duel. Now you must take responsibility for defending Prince Malleus’ honor so valiantly.”

Malleus, looking thoroughly impressed, gave you a small, pleased smile. “Indeed. You have my gratitude.”

The princess, meanwhile, was gaping at you like she couldn’t believe what just happened. “This… this is an outrage!”

You sighed, feeling utterly exhausted. “Look, I didn’t even want to duel in the first place. Can’t we just—call it a day? I’ve had enough of knights and duels and—” You gestured vaguely to Malleus. “I’m not even dating him.”

Malleus’ smile widened. “But we are friends.”

Lilia chuckled. “Ah, young love is so complicated.”

You shot him a glare. This was not what you signed up for. But hey, at least you won the duel—somehow.

You were lounging in your mansion’s parlor, the day blissfully uneventful for once. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a cozy glow over the room. Malleus was mid-conversation—no, scratch that—mid-rant about gargoyles. To your surprise, you were actually kind of into it.

“And that’s the primary difference between gargoyles and grotesques,” Malleus continued passionately. “You see, gargoyles are not merely decorative but also functional, designed to channel water away from the structure, whereas grotesques, while similar in appearance, serve no such purpose. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You nodded, intrigued, and cut in with a genuine question. “Wait, so is the functionality the only difference? Like, are they made from the same material?”

Malleus blinked, slightly taken aback that you were not only listening but actively participating. “Yes, precisely. They are often carved from the same stone, but it’s their purpose that sets them apart. For example, in the southern—” He paused, seeming to catch himself, suddenly looking sheepish. “Ah, forgive me. I fear I’ve been talking too much.”

Sebek nearly jumped out of his seat, eyes wide with horror. “Lord Malleus! Everything you say is perfect! Don’t apologize for sharing your magnificent knowledge!”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No, really, I enjoy it,” you said, waving off Malleus’ concerns. “I mean, how often do you get to talk about something so niche with someone who knows this much about it? I actually have a question—do any of the gargoyles in the Briar Valley have, like, historical significance? Like ones that are still functioning after all this time?”

Malleus lit up, and he launched right back into it, going on about ancient gargoyles in the Briar Valley that had withstood the test of time. He even started comparing the craftsmanship of various eras, and to your own surprise, you threw in a few comments about architecture and water systems, things you barely remembered from some random articles you’d read ages ago.

Halfway through a comparison of Gothic versus Renaissance gargoyle styles, a soft knock interrupted. Your maid entered, bowing slightly. “My lady, pardon the interruption, but we need your guidance with something in the kitchens.”

You sighed but smiled, pushing yourself off the couch. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let them bully you into leaving the gargoyle talk,” you teased as you walked out, completely unaware of the effect your comment had left behind.

As soon as the door closed, Malleus stood there, momentarily speechless. His pale cheeks took on the faintest hint of color, and his eyes were wide, as if someone had just smacked him with a metaphorical brick of emotions. The prince of Briar Valley, the most powerful creature in existence, was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Lilia, ever the mischievous one, was already grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, well, well… isn’t this interesting?” he purred, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Silver raised an amused brow, casting a side glance at Malleus. “It’s not every day we see him blush.”

Sebek, on the other hand, was utterly baffled but still overjoyed at seeing his lord smiling so widely. “Of course Lord Malleus is happy!” Sebek exclaimed proudly, though there was a trace of confusion in his voice. “He’s been honored with your presence and your rapt attention, as is only right! I just—” Sebek glanced around, as if trying to understand the subtle undercurrent in the room, “—I don’t understand why he’s so… red?”

Lilia patted Sebek on the back, barely holding in his laughter. “Oh, Sebek, my boy. This is what happens when someone gets the attention they’ve long desired.”

Malleus cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to compose himself. “I’m merely… pleased,” he said, though his blush betrayed him. “It’s rare to find someone who listens so attentively.”

Lilia chuckled softly. “Yes, and who knows the difference between gargoyles and grotesques, I imagine. Quite the match for you, wouldn’t you say?”

Malleus, flustered beyond belief, gave Lilia a sidelong look but said nothing, clearly more preoccupied with the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

By the time you returned, unaware of the scene you’d left behind, Malleus was still trying to gather himself. Lilia shot you a knowing smile, and Silver just gave you a look like you have no idea what’s happening, do you? Sebek, as always, continued to beam with unshakable loyalty to his blushing lord.

But hey, at least Malleus was happy—really happy.

It all started innocently enough—you were having dinner with Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. Sebek was, as usual, going on one of his rants about how absolutely divine Malleus was, Lilia was being cryptic and vaguely mischievous, and Silver was dozing off between courses.

You, being the delightful disaster that you were, cracked a joke between bites. “Honestly, if Sebek praises Malleus any more, we might as well commission a statue of him—complete with an audio loop of Sebek’s praises.”

Malleus laughed. Actually laughed. It was such a rare sound, deep and rich, and when you heard it, your heart stuttered in your chest like someone had just jabbed you with a lightning bolt.

Oh no.

You knew, from that very moment, you were in deep, deep shit.

From that point on, everything Malleus did made it impossible for you to act normal around him. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing, the warmth in his voice when he spoke to you—how had you not noticed before? And now, every time Lilia even looked at you, it was with this knowing, mischievous grin, like the universe had finally granted him the entertainment he’d been waiting for all these centuries.

“This,” Lilia said one day, leaning in conspiratorially with a grin that could light up a room, “this is what I’ve lived so long for.”

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t just your mind tormenting you. Oh no. It was like the entire world was in on the joke. You could practically see sparkles in the air every time Malleus so much as glanced your way. Sparkles, for crying out loud. Your heart was in critical danger.

Your solution? Avoid him.

But it wasn’t that simple. You tried hiding behind furniture, ducking into bushes, and even feigning an incredibly inconvenient bout of food poisoning just to avoid being near him. One time, you spotted Malleus coming down the hall and, in a blind panic, dove behind a potted plant. The plant was tiny. You were not. Somehow, you thought it would work.

It didn’t. Malleus casually walked over, spotted you crouching awkwardly behind the plant, and said, “Is there something wrong with that shrubbery? Should I summon someone to tend to it?”

Another time, you attempted to “sneak” out of the palace by pretending you were a passing merchant. You wore a very large hat and wrapped yourself in an oversized cloak. Malleus found you immediately.

“Aren’t you feeling a bit warm in that?” he asked, blinking at your ridiculous ensemble.

He had fae hearing. He could always find you.

Even guiding him around town became a disaster. How were you supposed to be a competent host when all you could think about was how unfairly hot he was? Every word he said carried this charming, ancient elegance, and here you were, a flustered mess with zero composure.

Lilia? Still having the time of his life. He was practically choking on his laughter at this point. Silver, somehow, slept through most of your crises, and Sebek was just thrilled Malleus was spending so much time with him (though he was clearly confused about why you were acting so weird).

Finally, you had enough. One night, under the cover of the moon, you snuck into the garden with the determination of someone completely done with their own suffering. You found a flower—granted, you didn’t know what it was, but it looked nice—and you marched up to Malleus, who was out enjoying the evening air, blissfully unaware of the emotional train wreck headed his way.

“I need to say something!” you blurted, shoving the flower toward him.

Malleus took the flower carefully, glancing down at it. His expression shifted from curious to… mildly concerned? “This flower,” he said slowly, “is traditionally used in Briar Valley to signify deep betrayal…”

You blinked. Oh god.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean—!” you stammered, but before you could backtrack, your brain decided it had had enough. You blurted out the truth, no holds barred: “I like you, okay?! I’ve been a mess for weeks because of how ridiculously perfect you are, and I’m tired of avoiding you and hiding behind plants! So there!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Malleus stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, and then, much to your surprise (and relief), he broke into the widest smile you’d ever seen on him. It was like the moon had just gotten brighter.

“You’re confessing… to me?” he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine joy.

“Yes,” you groaned, face burning with embarrassment. “Now please reject me so I can go lie in a ditch somewhere.”

But instead of rejection, you got happy dragon noises. Malleus gently pulled you into his arms and, with a voice full of affection, declared, “You are mine, then. From this day forward, you are my beloved.”

Cue your soul leaving your body.

When you broke the news to your father the next day, the poor Duke nearly fainted at the sight of the Prince of Briar Valley standing there, flanked by Silver, Sebek, and Lilia, the former general grinning like the Cheshire cat.

The Duke was intimidated—terrified, really—and quickly agreed to let the courtship proceed. But there was a catch.

“You’ll have to tell the Crown Prince and the Hero Knight yourself,” your father said, his face pale. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

Your retirement plans had officially died.

Despite all the chaos that had entered your life since becoming Malleus's beloved, you had to admit—there were perks. One of those was what you’d come to call "fae luck." It became especially apparent during a particularly tense diplomatic meeting involving the fae, the beastmen, and your kingdom.

The room was filled with strained conversations, the kind of diplomacy that could either result in peace or war, depending on how fragile the egos in the room were. You were sitting between Malleus and the second prince, doing your best to avoid looking at the first prince, who had already been giving you way too much attention for comfort.

Then it happened.

The first prince, ever the picture of grace, rose to speak. As he took his first step forward… THUD. He tripped spectacularly, arms flailing, and landed directly in the lap of the Beastmen Queen. There was a collective gasp, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe this could be saved—until he opened his mouth.

“Well, I guess I’ve… fallen for you!”

Silence.

The Beastmen Queen's expression froze. The fae delegation collectively facepalmed, and you could practically feel the tension suffocating the room.

And then the Beastmen were on their feet, growling and demanding the immediate removal of the first prince from the line of succession. One of their diplomats, fur bristling with indignation, roared, “This is an insult to our Queen! Remove this fool from the throne!”

Instead of apologizing, as a normal, sane person might have, the first prince, face red with embarrassment, dug himself even deeper. “It was a joke! Can’t you beastmen take a joke? Honestly, I don’t see why everyone’s so sensitive.”

The Beastmen's amger intensified, and you saw the Emperor and Empress—who had been trying desperately to maintain order—sink deeper into their seats, their expressions a mix of horror and resignation. The entire room was teetering on the brink of an international incident.

And then… you spotted it.

A little green wisp, barely visible, flitting through the air right around where the prince had been standing before his magnificent face-plant.

You glanced toward Malleus, who was sitting beside you, looking perfectly composed, save for the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Beside him, Lilia gave you a knowing wink, his mischievous grin unmistakable.

They caused this.

Within moments, the decision was made: the first prince was officially removed as heir to the throne. His younger brother, the second prince—who had always been calm, composed, and infinitely more capable—was declared the new Crown Prince.

It was glorious.

But before you could celebrate, the first prince turned toward you, his expression sour and filled with desperation. "You—" he began, as if about to drag you into his misery.

Not today, prince.

Finally given the chance to reject him properly, you rose from your seat, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh as you faced him.

“I’ve been waiting so long to say this,” you began, crossing your arms and locking eyes with him. “I reject you. Completely. Wholly. Utterly. There is not a single fiber in my being that has ever been remotely interested in you. In fact, the only thing that’s ever kept me in proximity to you was the sheer necessity of survival.”

The first prince’s mouth opened, but you weren’t done.

“Remember all those times you made those comments about my ‘station’ and how ‘lucky’ I was to be considered by you?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything back then because I was too polite, but now? No thanks. Absolutely not. I would rather spend a century in the swamps than a minute more listening to you.”

Sebek, of all people, burst into laughter. “She’s got a point!” he managed between snickers. Lilia was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and Silver, barely awake, gave a lazy thumbs-up in support.

Malleus, meanwhile, looked positively enchanted. His eyes sparkled as he watched you lay into the former prince, pride and affection written all over his face. When you were done, he leaned toward you, murmuring with a soft smile, “I do love seeing you stand up for yourself.”

The first prince, his face red with humiliation, stammered, “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Oh, but I just did,” you replied with a sweet smile. “And you know what? It felt amazing.”

With that, the first prince slunk away, his tail metaphorically between his legs, while the room buzzed with whispered laughter. Even the Beastmen, who had been ready to rip the prince to shreds, seemed satisfied.

You had never felt more victorious. Malleus looked at you with such adoration, and Lilia… well, Lilia looked like he was already planning his next round of mischief.

It was a good day.

The festival was going about as smoothly as a cat in a bathtub. You were trying to act like you weren’t hopelessly entangled with the most dangerously attractive fae prince in existence, while also managing to survive the company of your absurd entourage.

Sebek was marching around, loudly reminding anyone within earshot of his unwavering devotion to Lord Malleus. His eyes would dart to you occasionally, like he was calculating whether you were worthy of being in the same airspace as his revered master. Silver, half-asleep, was keeping one lazy yet disturbingly sharp eye on you, while Lilia was in his element—practically vibrating with amusement, like he was waiting for you to trip and fall into a cauldron of chaos.

And then there was the Hero Knight. This guy had shown up uninvited, all shiny armor and noble delusions, insisting he protect you from… something? Yourself? Malleus? Winning too many festival games?

“Are you sure you’re safe?” the Hero Knight asked, sidling up far too close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve heard stories about these fae festivals. One wrong step, and you’ll be cursed to dance for a hundred years, or worse—turned into a tree.”

You squinted at him. “Right. I’ll make sure to avoid the face-painting booth. Wouldn’t want to end up as a shrub for eternity.”

Malleus, ever patient, simply raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating whether this so-called Hero Knight was worth the oxygen he was breathing. Lilia, meanwhile, was biting his lip to stop from laughing.

But then, amid your rising frustration, you spotted it: the holy grail of festival prizes. The gargoyle plushie.

It wasn’t just any gargoyle plushie. It was perfect. Chunky, with tiny wings and a slightly disgruntled expression, it radiated the exact energy you associated with Malleus—regal, intimidating, yet somehow huggable.

You pointed at it like you’d just discovered a hidden treasure. “I need that.”

Malleus, ever-attentive, followed your gaze and smiled softly. “Do you desire the gargoyle?”

“Obviously! It’s basically you in plushie form,” you said, already walking toward the game stall. “But, you know, it’s rigged. All festival games are.”

Malleus watched you with his trademark elegant amusement. “Perhaps I can—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m winning this fair and square. No fae magic, no dragon lord intervention. Just pure skill.”

You grabbed the darts, took a deep breath, and began your assault on the rigged game. It wasn’t easy. The darts bounced, the targets mocked you, and you could feel the Hero Knight hovering over your shoulder like a bad itch.

“Are you sure this is wise?” the Hero Knight asked again, his voice dripping with concern. “This feels like a trap. What if they’ve enchanted the darts? What if—”

You whirled on him, fed up. “Listen, Sir Gallant-with-too-much-hair-gel, it’s a dart game. Not an assassination plot. If I can survive dealing with you, I think I can handle a few rigged targets.”

Lilia absolutely lost it. He doubled over, wheezing in laughter, while Silver let out an amused snort. Even Sebek looked like he was struggling not to smirk, though he quickly composed himself.

Malleus, ever regal, simply smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I have faith in your abilities, my dear.”

Fueled by that comment—and the knowledge that the Hero Knight was slowly losing what remained of his dignity—you managed to hit the final target. The plushie was yours.

Triumphantly, you grabbed the gargoyle and turned to Malleus. “For you.”

Malleus, to your utter delight, looked genuinely touched. His eyes softened, and that rare, warm smile appeared. “You won this for me?”

“Obviously,” you said, trying not to melt under his gaze. “A prince should have his own gargoyle.”

Silver, who had been observing the entire scene with increasing clarity despite his usual drowsiness, raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Sebek, who was still processing the fact that you’d just casually given his lord a gargoyle plushie, grunted. “You… you truly care for Lord Malleus.”

Before you could say anything, the Hero Knight, still floundering, piped up. “Well, I could’ve won that gargoyle too, you know. If you wanted to—”

“Oh, please,” you cut him off, turning to the Knight. “You probably would’ve asked the stall vendor to throw in a manual on ‘How to Not Be a Total Wet Blanket at Festivals.’”

Lilia nearly collapsed. “Oh, please stop—I can’t—” he gasped, clearly having the time of his life.

You waved him off and turned back to Malleus, who was still holding the plushie with the same reverence one might reserve for an ancient relic. “Shall we continue?”

Next up was a couple’s game. You had no intention of participating—until you noticed the Hero Knight gearing up to suggest that he join in to protect you. Oh no. Not today. You grabbed Malleus’ arm and dragged him into the game, completely ignoring the Knight’s sputtering objections.

“It’s… it’s traditionally for couples…” Silver noted, giving you a look that clearly said, I see what’s happening here.

You ignored him too.

The game was simple enough: throw rings onto bottles, but for some reason, the tension was palpable. Probably because you were standing next to one of the most powerful beings in existence, and you’d dragged him into a ridiculous couples’ game in front of his overly protective retinue.

But you won. And to rub salt in the Hero Knight’s ego, you fed Malleus one of the sweets you’d won.

“Y-You!” Sebek spluttered, looking as though you’d just committed the highest treason against decorum. “Feeding Lord Malleus… this… this is too much!”

The Hero Knight, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled. “Are you… are you sure that’s safe? What if the sweets are—”

“I swear, if you don’t stop, I’m going to feed you to the fairies,” you hissed, snapping the sweet in half and popping it into Malleus’ mouth. He smiled as he ate it, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time the fireworks started, you had somehow survived the night without murdering the Hero Knight. The sky exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors, and for a brief moment, it was peaceful.

And then, without thinking, you kissed Malleus.

There was a split second of stunned silence. And then all hell broke loose.

Sebek let out a screech that could rival a banshee. “My Lord! My Lord!” His voice cracked in disbelief, but then—surprisingly—he softened. “If… If Lord Malleus must fall for a human, I am glad it is someone… as devoted as you. My lady.”

You looked at him, touched. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Silver gave a rare smile, looking both amused and resigned. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to pull this off somehow.”

Lilia, predictably, was still dying of laughter, barely able to breathe between fits of wheezing.

And the Hero Knight? He looked like someone had just told him vampires were real and lived next door. “This… I… What…?”

You turned to him with a smile that could cut steel. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been trying to tell you for months that I wasn’t interested. I’d rather kiss a gargoyle than you—actually, no. The gargoyle’s got more charm. Better conversation skills too.”

Lilia was full-on cackling now, leaning against a festival stall for support as the Hero Knight’s dignity shriveled up into nothingness.

Malleus, looking absolutely radiant, wrapped an arm around your waist. “Shall we depart? I believe we have a kingdom to return to.”

The next day, you stood with Malleus and his merry band of chaos, bidding farewell to your parents and butler. The Duke was still recovering from the heart attack Malleus had given him when he asked for your hand in courtship.

As you waved to your family, Malleus gently took your hand, leading you toward the carriage that would take you to Briar Valley.

“Well,” you muttered as you glanced back one last time, “this story of mine took a weird turn.”

Lilia, still grinning like a fiend, chimed in. “Oh, just wait until the sequel.”

The last thing you heard as the carriage rolled away was the Hero Knight muttering in the distance, “I could’ve won that gargoyle…”

You smiled. Maybe the webnovel wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Ahh I hope y'all like this one, malleus is one of my favs and I had so much fun writing him.

The Kalim one is being edited because it's a little too somber for me and I wanna make it a little more fun and Azul one is almost fully edited too!

So, here's a poll for the one after these. (They'll all get a turn)

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[yellowbrokenblue]

I fucking own you | RAFE CAMERON

You’ve been working for the Cameron’s for a few months, and a while ago you made the biggest mistake of your life- you slept with Rafe Cameron. And now, it was about to happen again. You were in too deep, and you fucking loved it.

cw: smut, rough sex, bondage, rafe is feral, dirty talk, degradation

“I asked for a drink half an hour ago. Where is it.”

He came closer and closer to you, his eyes dark and filled with pure annoyance. It wasn’t that you went out of your way to disobey Rafe’s orders, but when you had as much on your plate as you did- it became easier and easier to slip up. People have this idea in their head that being a housemaid is a simple job- but when you work for the Cameron family, it’s nowhere near simple.

“Raf- Mr Cameron. You know that my job is not to run around fetching you food and drink whenever you feel about it. I’m here to look after the house, not you.”

He scoffed.

“Talk to me like that again, pogue, and I’ll get you fired.”

Rafe had been threatening to get his father to fire you ever since you made the biggest slip up of your entire life. You prided yourself on being a smart person who always made good choices- but then one night you ended up tangled in the sheets of Rafe Cameron’s bed- and that does not happen to people who make good choices.

After that night you vowed to avoid him as much as you possibly could. You couldn’t afford to get him so angry that he’d rat you out to his dad and loose this job.

But your biggest problem was that no matter how hard you tried to stand up for yourself, you’d always cave in front of him. You’d always end up getting him that drink even though it wasn’t your job, you’d fetch his dry cleaning before your shift simply because he asked you. And worst of all, you let him fuck you.

But it would never happen again.

“I’m sorry, Mr Cameron.” You apologised, nodding your head.

“Good.” He said, before lowering his voice, “Now go and be the nice, obedient girl that I remember, and get me a Scotch.”

You swallowed, nodding.

With shaky hands, you make your way to the bar cart in the corner, placing some ice in the glass and pouring the shot. You might not have had eyes on the back of your head, but you could feel his eyes on you- his gaze was burning into the back of your head.

He treated you like shit, it’s not as if you were unaware of it. Sometimes you got worried about the fact that occasionally it made you want him more.

You turn around, and try to give him the glass. He noticed your shaking hands and smirked. This man has evil written all over him.

“I change my mind, sweetheart.” He said, his tone rude and condescending, “I want my drink in my bedroom.”

“Can’t you just take it up, I-”

He scoffed, “You’re what? You’re telling me to do your job because you’re worried about being next to my bed again? Are you really that weak, pogue?”

Your heart was beating uncontrollably.

“Of course not.” You reply, “I’ll take it up to your room right away.”

“That’s a good girl.”

You leave the room and follow the, what feels like endless, stairs up to Rafe’s room. His section of the house was bigger than your entire apartment on the other side of the island. When he says ‘room’ he really means entire suite. The living area opened up into a huge bedroom with an en-suite, and he even had a small kitchenette to the far left with different cooking appliances. The microwave itself was probably worth more than your entire wardrobe.

You placed the glass on the small table next to the couch, when you heard the door open, close and then lock.

You turn around, rapidly, to be faced with Rafe’s face already only inches away from yours.

“Don’t look so worried, sweetheart.” He said, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling your body against his, “You know I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Rafe, we can’t do this again. I need this job, you know that.”

Instead of a reply, he lent down and attached his lips to your neck, making a b-line for the sweet spot that he must’ve remembered from last time.

You used all of the strength in you to stop yourself from letting out a moan, but then he pressed his crotch against your stomach, and the moan slipped out.

“I knew you wanted me.” Rafe said, pulling away and holding your face with his hands, “I could see it in your eyes, they just scream out how desperate you are for my cock.”

Rafe’s hands reach for the buttons of your blouse, looking at your face, waiting for a signal that it’s okay for him to continue. He wasn’t a good guy, but he had enough good in him to make sure you were okay with this.

You gave him a quick nod, and he made quick work of taking off your blouse, throwing it on the floor.

“The shit my dad makes the help wear is fuckin’ ugly.” Rafe said, “I much prefer when you look like this.”

His hands raked over your body, and over your bra.

“How would you cope if I worked naked every day?” You joked.

“I wouldn’t.”

Before you knew it, your bra joined your shirt on the floor, your tits spilling free.

“Pants off. Lie on the couch.” Rafe demanded, taking a step back, waiting to watch you undress. “I have plans for you before you get my dick. So, be a good girl and do as I say.”

You bite the side of your cheek, unbuttoning your pants and kicking them off.

“Panties too.” Rafe said, “I want to see all of you.”

Once again, you done as he said, peeling your underwear from your body, leaving you completely naked lying on his couch.

It was intimidating lying like this with him watching you while he stood fully clothed. But then again, every time Rafe looked at you there would be some sort of intimidation involved.

“Now,” He said, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt, “I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna go, and you’re gonna listen.”

He took his shirt off and lifted the glass of Scotch.

“You’re gonna lay there nice and still and well behaved, understand? And while you do that, I’m gonna have some fun.” He says, moving his arm so that his glass of liquor was hovering above you, before tilting it and letting the liquid drip over your stomach.

It was ice cold, yet the feeling made your head fall back. The anticipation was killing you, and he knew it. Rafe was taking his sweet time simply just to torture you.

You watched Rafe sink to his knees, dropping the glass on the floor, ice spilling everywhere.

“You’re gonna forget who the fuck you are when I’m done with you.”

His mouth attached itself your breasts, his tongue licking up the alcohol that had dripped onto them, before slowly making his way down your stomach, licking and sucking at every trace of liquor he could find.

Most of the liquid had pooled around your belly button, and as he got closer to that area, he gripped your thigh to steady his body, making sure to purposely brush his fingers over the aching heat between your legs, enjoying the soft moan you let out.

You couldn’t help but groan as he sucked harder at your skin, his tongue all over your stomach. You wanted that tongue sucking at your tits, in your mouth, between your legs. You wanted him everywhere.

“You’re desperate for me. I can tell.” Rafe said, using the grip he had on your thigh to spin you around, so that you were sitting facing him on the couch.

Arousal was dripping down your legs as his hand crept further and further up your thigh.

“I was gonna take my time with you today, sweetheart. But I think you want my cock right now, am I right?”

You nod, desperately.

“Words.” He demands.

“Yes.” You plead.

He shakes his head, “I know you remember the rules. Yes, what?”

You swallow.

“Yes, Sir.”

Even in the bedroom, Rafe had to remind you that you would always be beneath him. His superiority complex would never die, yet your sheer desperation could look past that.

The power dynamic was unhealthy, it’s not as if you were unaware. Technically you were still on shift working at his house right now. But you allowed yourself to look past it simply because of how badly you wanted him.

How badly you needed him.

Next, he told you to go and lie on his bed- and he followed you into the bedroom area but instead of joining you on the sheets he opened the door to his closet, rifling through until he pulled out a long black tie.

“I think you need a reminder today of who is in charge.” He says, coming closer to the bed.

“You.” You whisper, “You are in charge.”

“You’re right,” He said, “But I need to be really sure that you underhand that. So give me your wrists.”

He takes your hands and wraps his tie tightly around them, before guiding your arms to the headboard of the bed, where he looped the tie around and secured your wrists to the bed.

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” He said, a slither of genuine humanity showing through his words.

“It’s fine.” You reply.

It was somewhat exciting, to be here tied up for Rafe. He could do whatever he wanted and there wasn’t much you could do about it. But at the same time, it was nerve wracking.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, so you have to try to be a little less tense, alright?” Rafe said. His words were genuine, but it didn’t come off as such.

He unbuckled his pants, pulling them off and pushing them aside, leaving you staring at him in his briefs.

“Where do I start.” Rafe says, placing a hand on each of your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“Look how fucking wet you are.” He said, running a single finger over your folds, “I didn’t realise what a desperate whore you were.”

Rafe’s patience thins- his solid erection paired with your dripping wet cunt is driving him crazy and he can’t wait any longer. He quickly flips you over onto your stomach and pushes your ass into the air, keeping your legs spread so he can access.

“Are you still on the pill?” He asks while he massages his cock. He needs to be inside of you. Right now.

You nod. “Yeah.”

With the anticipation, that one single word is all you can croak out of your mouth.

With no warning, you find Rafe’s cock pushing into you with a speed you can’t quite comprehend.

“Your tight little cunt.” Rafe moans, splitting you open, “I bet no one’s fucked you since the last time you had my dick, huh? You keep this pussy just for me?”

You moan, your face pushed into the sheets as you take the full length of Rafe’s dick.

“Agh!” You cry, “You, Rafe, just you.”

He’s thrusting into you with no thoughts in his mind. You knew Rafe fucked rough, but this was a new level of feral you hadn’t seen before- and you were kind of loving. You tugged on the tie restraining your wrists while you cried his name.

“I own you.” Rafe says, “I fucking own you, you understand?”

You moan loudly, his dick still pounding into you.

“I said do you fucking understand?”

“Agh! Fuck!” You cry, “I’m yours, Rafe. You own me, you own me.”

You were so close to your orgasm, clenching on his cock while he thrusted deep inside you.

“I’m close.” You tell him, pushing your head into the mattress.

“Don’t fucking cum until I say so.” Rafe said.

He sped up, reaching for his own release.

“Cum with me.” He growls, his speed reducing as he cums inside of you.

You cry out, your long awaited orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave as you coat Rafe’s cock with your cum.

You might regret this tomorrow, but right now you didn’t have a care in the world.

[sgt-tombstone]

Simon Riley has never understood why military personnel get married so quickly

Logically, he understands; most soldiers move often and want their partners to be able to move with them, and getting married means living off base, which has benefits all of its own. But he’s never wanted or needed any of that. Johnny goes where he goes because they’re a team, and they both have everything they need on base. They’re perfectly happy right where they are, no rings or vows needed.

And then Johnny goes MIA, presumed KIA.

After the initial shock, the anxiety, the helplessness, the overwhelming urge to do something, anything, to get his Johnny back… There’s the Board of Inquiry, where the entire 141 essentially testifies about what happened leading up to Sergeant MacTavish’s disappearance, and he’s declared officially KIA.

His belongings have to be returned to his next of kin which… isn’t Simon. Because they were never married. Instead, he has to pick through his room, collecting the pieces of Johnny that he’d stockpiled over the years; his sketchbooks, his headphones, his extra identification tag. He boxes them up and gives them to Price to be shipped to Scotland, to Johnny’s real next of kin, and he aches with regret.

Because he suddenly understands.

Marriage wouldn’t have saved Johnny; nothing could’ve. But it could’ve kept Johnny close, could’ve preserved some of Johnny’s memory. Instead, his room is cleared and cleaned and filled with the next soldier, and Simon is left with nothing to remember the love of his life by.

He had never even bought a ring.

[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 3: Breeding

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, breeding kink/creampie, dirty talk, Joel cannot shut the fuck up, spanking, if I missed anything please let me know!

“Keep your legs up, ‘round my waist—there y’go,” Joel mumbled his words into your ear, the scruff of his beard scratching the side of your face as he spoke.

He hadn’t said a word to you when he’d gotten home, riled up and pissed off at yet another ill-prepared patrolman who had nearly let it all go to hell. He’d opted instead to shuck off his jacket, leaving a trail of shoes and socks in the front hall before using his whole body to pull you into a bruising, much needed kiss.

You didn’t mind. You liked when he used you to blow off some steam, especially after being gone for so long.

So there you lay, spread out on the kitchen table for him, your hands in his hair. You planted your lips on him wherever they could reach when he leaned over you to admire the way your expression changed when he moved.

“Joel, Jesus Christ—so deep,” your moans were chesty, thick with the desire you’d been waiting all week to share with him.

And by god, was he delivering.

“Just gotta whip this pussy back into proper shape,” his hands caressed your sides, and when he reached your hips he dug his fingers into your skin so harshly that they’d be sure to leave bruises. He used his grip as leverage to drag you over his cock. “Only been a week and she almost forgot me.”

“Never—oh,” you whimpered when he moved one hand off of you before using it to deliver a sharp smack against your thigh, “Never forget about you, Joel—oh, fuck—feel so good, I nev—never forget about it.”

“Gonna have to make sure,” he moaned at your praise. Pressing his hips firm against you, he deepened his strokes and increased his pace ever so slightly.

You whined, head falling back against the table as your eyes closed, heightening the pleasure of the position he had you in and the way he spoke.

“Sound good?” He continued, landing another spank on your thigh, “Look at me—is that what you want?” He grabbed you by the calves, pushing your legs to your chest and bending forward to capture you in a kiss. “You want me to make sure you remember? Make sure you know who you belong to? Who this perfect fuckin’ body belongs to?”

You had to battle with yourself to keep your eyes open, lost in the joy of being full of him. The nudge of his cock on your cervix and the way he pressed against your clit with every thrust kept you dangling over the edge, almost ready to fall completely into ecstasy.

“Y—es,” you hiccupped through the haze of arousal, “Keep me full like this—keep me open all the time, Joel, please.”

“Do you one better,” he looked smug, the smirk he wore nearly morphing into a sneer as he situated himself on his forearms above you. “Gonna fill you up nice and deep, put a fuckin’ brat in there—‘nd every time you look in the mirror, every time you look down, you get to remind yourself what you’re carryin’.”

“Joel—!” You were so close, and the promise of being pumped full of him, the way he delivered the promise, and the notion of him actually and purposefully attempting to get you pregnant all worked in tandem to make your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, s’a good idea, right?” He was smiling, babbling on as he watched you approach your high, racing towards his own. “Breed this greedy fuckin’ hole, that’ll show everybody whose you are—show you.”

“Yes—yes, fuck, please,” you were close to tears, desperately trying to move your hips to match his pace and speed up the process of what he was vowing to do. “Joel, please, cum in me.”

“Oh, I’ll cum in you,” he took a moment to really admire you, nose pressing against your own, gaze piercing into you, “Cum in you as many times as it takes to make it stick.”

And with one final shove of his hips, you were floating. You let out a strangled moan, something that came from low in your abdomen and exited your lips in a whiny, breathless cry. He relished it, pressing his face into your neck as he continued his ministrations, letting the sounds and signs of your pleasure coat him, body and mind.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he sucked marks into your skin, feeling your pulse, quick and jumpy, against his mouth. “Good girl—you want it?”

“Yes…” You were spent, body trembling and eyelids heavy, but you needed to see this through, aching for the warmth of him deep in your stomach. “Please—as many times as it takes…cum in me.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” Joel’s eyes were screwed shut, his mouth falling open when his hips began to stutter against you. He pushed himself deep, grinding himself against your cunt. “Shit—goddammit, I’m—yeah, yeah, sweetheart—fuck!” He came with a groan, and you moaned at the way his cock twitched inside of you.

You were both panting, sticky with sweat and exhausted. He stayed on top of you, nosing your neck and pressing dainty kisses into your skin.

Joel found it in himself to pull out after a few moments, still trying to savor the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him. But when you tried to lift yourself up, a calloused palm pressed into your chest.

“Stay like that, darlin’. Legs up.” He walked around the table, coming to stand where your head nearly dangled off the edge. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll be ready again in ‘bout an hour.” He grinned, leaning over you to catch your lips with his.

With the way his tongue dove into your mouth, hungry to explore, capturing your whines, you could tell you wouldn’t have to wait a full hour if you played your cards right.

“How about you—mm—how about you carry me up to bed?” You purred, sliding a hand up to toy with the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Can’t risk lettin’ all’at leak out of you,” he muttered against your lips, “As pretty a sight it may be…”

“So slide back in and carry me like that,” you batted your lashes, and he let out a groan. “And if any of it drips, you can just do it all over again.”

“You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart,” he shook his head, but he took your advice.