#as well as satiate the desire to talk about it by throwing it all into a void where maybe a few people will give it a heart

[sparrowofsong]

And then there were five!

(we think we figured out what was wrong with names - the names are right, but the colors are wrong. Everyone was choosing letters with the right color, even if it wasn't a good name. So now we're writing the names and thinking about them with the preferred color instead!)

Sparrow- Host I think. They/them.

Varion (formerly J)- Just a pal. Fronts fairly often. He/him.

Rose (formerly M)- Caretaker. She/her.

[REDACTED]- Doesn't like names, or genders, or being identified as a human at all. It/its, it thinks. Though if not using pronouns along with not using a name was feasible, it probably would do that instead. So this is the next best thing.

A(?)- Little, hasn't fronted since we implemented the name idea. So we still don't even know what color is best. But she seemed to like names starting with A, so we'll stick with that until she fronts and is able to communicate with us better bc we still don't know how to effectively communicate within the mindspace whoops. She/her, mayyyyyybe they/them.

[hyuckssunchip]

Endless Blackmail (II)

Pairings: Jeno x Reader, ft. Jaemin, Renjun, Mark, Haechan

Words: 2.8K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), SMUT, masturbation, (female y/n)

Synopsis:

A weekend away at the cabin, with Jeno’s opportunity to, well to simply put it, do whatever he wants with you, how long will it take the other boys to cave into their personal desires? 

masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

@rosyb7aby

By the time you had arrived at the cabin and got all settled in, the sun was just about setting.

The boys had already set up a campfire in the pit, in fact it was the first thing that they did after picking out rooms. It had something to do with the ambiance or something.

Whatever, boys will be boys.

You settled onto the log next to Renjun, taking a drink from him after digging through the cooler.

“Mark you should’ve brought your guitar.��� Renjun mumbled, sipping on his drink.

“I know, I almost did. Dude, it’s literally sitting right by my front door.” Mark shook his head with retrospective annoyance.

“Shame, I’ve always wanted to do a campfire jam session.” You teased at him, earning a face in return.

“That’s too boring. I love a jam session as much as the next guy, but let’s do something more fun. Like ghost stories or something. I mean we’re here in the middle of the woods right?” HeChan urged, glancing around at the lack of enthusiasm.

The rest of you simultaneously groaned.

“Hell no.” Renjun shook his head, “There is no way in hell you are telling me a ghost story and then sleeping in the room next to mine. I don’t trust you.”

You nodded in agreement, there was a moment in your friendship that you genuinely thought Haechan could scare you to death just for the fun of it. You were not gonna die in the middle of the woods of a heart attack. “Yeah I think I’ll pass on that one.”

“Fine. A round of truth or dare? Or poker? I even brought cards this time around.” Haechan bounced in his seat across from you.

“Dude, it’s too late for that.” Renjun shook his head, leaning back on his forearms.

“Too late? What are you 80? It’s not even 9 o’clock.”

“Hey, I’m tired.” He whined in return, throwing a glare at Haechan. “I drove all day.”

Jaemin nodded silently next to him, offering up his agreement. “Yeah, I’m pretty pooped too, I think I’mma head in as well.”

Haechan groaned dramatically, flopping onto Mark as he sagged against the guy.

You chuckled brushing off your hands as you stood up. “Let’s do it tomorrow Haechan, I think everyone’s just tired, you know?”

Though he didn’t dare say it aloud Haechan had a pretty good idea of why you were exhausted, and for a second there an evil glint that flashed through his eyes.

Jeno nodded mindlessly, staring into the fire as the three of you headed inside, bidding the other’s a good night, too occupied in his own thoughts to see the look you threw at him. 

“So what’s up with you and Y/N?” Haechan teased with a side eye after he let a few minutes pass.

“Huh?”

Mark chuckled under his breath as he leaned forward, poking the fire with a stick with lazy eyes.

“Come on, the sexual tension is through the roof.” Although he was teasing, there was a part of him that was eagerly awaiting his response.

“The hell dude?” Jeno scoffed, leaning back in his chair, not even sparing the instigator a glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re just good friends.”

A sound of disbelief escaped Mark, causing Jeno to shoot him a glare. The former just shook his head, returning to the flames.

“Really?” Haechan didn’t seem to be thinking all that hard into it, maybe he wanted to believe it to satiate his own mind.

“Yeah.” A little ball in Jeno’s gut tugged at him, the feeling making him slightly sick, feeling the need to ignore it until he felt better.

Jaemin’s room was on the farthest end of the cabin, relatively well secluded from the rest. It’s not as if he purposely picked the room, in fact, he was kind of stuck there.

Others would agree that it seemed to be the worst room in the place. Furthest from the A/C, furthest from the wifi modem, furthest from the kitchen. Earlier that day Jaemin had fought tooth and nail, losing nevertheless, to avoid this room. But at this moment he was thinking it was a godsend he managed to get this room.

He sighed as he fell backwards on his bed, bouncing up slightly at tension of the bed. He threw his arm over his eyes as he breathed out, letting his body finally relax.

He wasn’t lying about being tired, it was exhausting being co-pilot. Navigating and keeping Renjun company was more tiring than he expected. Not to mention he was all tensed up every time he looked in the rearview mirror.

You and Jeno weren’t as slick as you thought.

Jaemin found his hand wandering down his chest, rubbing up and down on the skin peeking out under his shirt.

Shit. It’s been way too long since he’s gotten laid.

He groaned, shaking his head, trying to rid the dirty thoughts from his mind. Rolling himself off the bed he stumbled his way towards the kitchen for a glass of water, a trek to say the least. Because he was in the far back corner of the cabin, it essentially meant that he had to pass by every single other room.

That included the bathroom.

Jaemin didn’t really think anything of it until he heard the sound of you humming. He gulped deeply, something getting caught in his throat as he slowed his steps, only to find himself halted in front of the bathroom, light peeking out from the bottom and sides of the door that were cracked open.

In fact, it was just cracked enough where he got a good view of the mirror, and you standing opposite of it.

The silhouette of your body caught his eye, teasing snippets of skin as you tugged your shirt off, letting it fall to the ground. You weren’t facing the mirror, only the elusive curve of your back and his vivid imagination doing it for him.

He told himself to look away. He really did try, but it wasn’t until the light flicked off and you opened the door did he come out of his trance.

“Oh, sorry were you waiting?” You asked, jumping slightly, startled at his presence. You didn’t think anything of it, Jaemin, of the guys, was the last person you’d expect to be creeping on you, and you played it off on his sleep deprived face.

“Uh, yeah... No! I was just on my way to get water.” He managed to stutter out, blinking rapidly to get your naked image out from behind his lids.

“Oh, alright. Well, good night then.” It was a harmless smile you sent his way, and he had never really gave it a second thought before. But today something was tugging at him, and for some reason it had him blushing. Thank god for the dim lights in the hallway.

“Yeah... good night.”

Jaemin downed his glass in less than a second.

He should’ve just stayed in his room. He honestly thought that a cup of water would help him cool down, it was just the fact that he had to see you in the bathroom that completely destroyed the purpose of the water. It was almost like he was trying to satiate his thirst, but nothing would do it but you.

“Damn it.”

Jaemin set the glass down on the counter, trudging back to his room, reluctantly coming to terms with his horny mind.

He tugged off his shirt, the sticky air already moist around him, or was that his imagination?

Jaemin’s hands pushed at the hem of his pants, hand digging past them to stroke at his cock, hating the way that it felt so good.

What if the guys heard him? What if you heard him?

He groaned at the thought, it was somehow turning him on the more he thought about it.

God, what would he do if you heard him and came in? Slinking into the room in nothing but panties and a T-shirt, grinding on him, begging him to fuck you right.

Jesus Christ.

Jaemin did his best to muffle his groans, but his fingers swiping over his tip had become too much for him.

Fuck, you’d be so tight around him, squeezing him, sucking him dry.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he imagined the way that your pussy would feel around him, his hands unconsciously tightening around his length at the notion.

Rhythmically his hips started meeting his fist, fucking his fist as if it were you, bed frame shaking and rattling against the wall, just knowing that whatever was on the other side was getting a show.

God his life would be over if the guys heard, they’d shit on him endlessly.  

But God damn it, it felt so fucking good.

His eyes fluttered shut, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks as he continued to move, heaving breaths growing more labored as he could feel his stomach tighten.

The image of you naked on your back flashed before his eyes and his hips stuttered, as he squeezed his fist around his length.

Jaemin came all over the bed, grimacing at the white running down his leg, but too fucked out to care.

Fuck.

Eventually he rolled over, grabbing at his dirty shirt on the floor, wiping off what he could before rolling back over.

Annoyed wasn’t quite the word he was looking for. 

Haechan stumbled through the hallway after being forced by Mark and Jeno to go to bed. Honestly, what was the point of coming to the cabin if everyone was going to go to bed at 9?

Frustrated?

It didn’t help that his mind kept running back to the soft sounds you were emitting on the car ride over here. 

Rubbing his face, as if to knock some sense back into him, he stared at the mirror, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, before chuckling humorously. He slipped his hoodie over his head, shaking out his hair before returning to his reflection, noting the fading bruises on his neck. 

A little memory from last week. 

Now she wasn’t afraid of being loud.

He smirked at his reflection, hands slapping at the tile as he leaned on them to get a closer look, accidentally shoving his towel and clothes to the ground. 

Haechan sighed out, squatting down to retrieve all his items, but when the last of his things had been picked up off the floor, he noticed that something else was hiding in the corner by the cabinets.

It was a baby blue, innocent with a bit of flair. Suddenly becoming self conscious, for no reason due to the fact that he was alone in the bathroom, he glanced around before bending over and picking up the fabric.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t have an idea of what it was before getting a better look. Shit, it was the reason he was getting a better look. 

Damn. Lace.

Haechan smirked to himself as he inspected the strip of fabric. He never really thought of you as a lace kind of girl, but hey, he didn’t think you were into voyeurism either and you definitely proved him wrong today.

Deciding to be of moral character, he placed your panties on the counter, the blue now standing out incredibly against the countertop.

He flicked the water on, being extra careful to keep the temperature low, aching to relieve himself, but an unsettling feeling rising in his stomach.

A hiss escaped him as he icy water drenched him, back arching in attempt to get away from the cold. But nevertheless, he let it run over him, cooling him down, both physically and metaphorically. 

At least that’s what he had intended. 

But it was obvious that that wasn’t happening as his mind found itself back on the top of you.

You and you little blue panties.

Just imagining what it would look like on you, the fact that you had walked around all day in those little things, sitting next to him, sitting on Jeno’s cock.

God, what he would do to be able to tear those off of you, watch your eyes widening at the feeling, then sink into submission for him. Knowing that he could fuck you up like you had never been before.

Somehow that was a more tantalizing thought than the idea of you just naked, baring everything for him. 

Haechan let his head fall against the white tile in the shower, dripping with water and cold from the frigid air.

A cold shower, he chuckled to himself.

His hand blindly found the handle, water almost immediately turning hot and steaming up the glass on the shower. Fuck that. If he was going to spend the next two days around you, cold showers weren’t going to cut it.

Haechan flipped his head back, letting the warm water rise over him, the image of your face contorted with pleasure burning in the back of his mind. His hand made its way to his cock with a mind of its own. For a couple minutes he just stood there, letting the warmth overwhelm him with the simple pleasure of his hand working around him.

Did you enjoy the ride with Jeno?

Haechan sputtered his lips, forcing the water away from his face. He couldn’t help feeling that he could show you just how much better he was. 

Especially since it would be so easy. Just a door down to the left. 

What were you doing now?

What were you wearing now?

A new set of lace panties? Blue? White? Fuck. Black?

Maybe just a long T-shirt, little panties peeking out, making it so easy for him to fuck you.

Or were you wearing nothing at all?

He whined, head leaning against the cold tile of the shower, hand speeding up to get him closer faster. 

Damn, if he could only take you. He’d take you on the couch, in the shower, in front of the boys. God knows you were into that kind of shit.

Haechan choked on his breath slightly as he let his load loose, white painting the shower panels as he sighed with relief, body still heaving with pleasure. 

He was quick to finish his shower after that, not much left for him to do, and no reason to stay there. 

His hair was still damp with water as he grabbed an armful of his dirty clothes, seemingly and for no particular reason to be in a rush to get out of there. The peek of blue teased at him as he tried to leave.

On his way out, he grabbed the lace, shoving it into his sweatpants’ pocket as a bit of his own souvenir. 

Jeno leaned against you doorway with a blank look on his face, as if he couldn’t really remember why he was there in the first place. 

“What do you want?” You asked, slightly annoyed at the hallway light that was peeking past him, your eyes already droopy with sleep.

“Huh?” Jeno’s face scrunched up slightly before he fully entered the room, closing the door behind him and walking around blindly before his eyes adjusted. 

“What do you want?”

“Oh, I was just here to give you your first punishment.” It wasn’t supposed to sound like a good thing, but the way that he was whispering it out in the dark had your mind spinning in circles. 

“Tomorrow? Please?” Though you whined and acted like you didn’t want him to punish you in other ways. 

“Tomorrow?” He asked, genuinely thinking about it, but temptation was too strong.  He slid under the covers next to you, propping his head up on his hand. 

You swear he could hear your heart beat from the proximity. 

“Yeah...” 

You felt his nose brush yours, teasing at the thought that he could have his lips on yours if either of you moved just an inch. 

And you thought he would do it too. 

So did he.

But his mind worked faster than his body, and his fears overwhelmed him, realizing that kissing you would be so much more intimate than a quick fuck in the car. And let’s be honest, that scared the shit out of him. 

Jeno sat up abruptly, almost knocking your heads together if not for your reflexes. Scrambling out of bed he threw the covers back over you before heading towards the door, bracing himself for the bright lights on the other side. 

“Tomorrow.”

masterlist | Previous | Next

© Copyright 2022. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Prima Gravida || Dr Strange

Follow up to Feral and Fertile

Summary: Pregnancy cravings leave you more ravenous for Stephen than ever before. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, reader!pregnancy, smut (oral and p in v), daddy kink, magical restraints, overstimulation WC: 1.6k

A/N: the first part was a request for afab reader which has carried through. No pronouns used, female genitalia/reproductive organs.

Dr Strange Masterlist

You stared at the apple as Stephen balanced it perfectly on the tip of his index finger, a teasing smile playing at his lips. He was well versed with satiating the many cravings that struck you at all hours of the day and night but you couldn’t remember mentioning an apple.

“I don’t really like apples.” You pointed out as he tossed the fruit in the air, catching it and taking a bite himself. The crunch sounded crisp and his eyes closed with satisfaction as the juices trickled over his lip. You could feel desire pooling between your legs as he licked his smirking lips and it reminded you of where he had invested his time the night before. “They say one a day keeps the Doctor away and I can’t risk that.”

His lips were sealed shut as he masticated but his shoulders shook with a laugh before he swallowed the mouthful. “Clever.”

“I thought so.” You winked. 

“But also naughty because it tells me you haven’t checked the app today.” He tutted as he pulled you closer to splay his long fingers over your lower abdomen. “She’s the size of an apple this week.”

“You’re Doctor Stephen Strange, surely you know how subjective those sizings are.” You giggled. “What variety of apples are they even talking about?”

“I think Ambrosia would be the most accurate.” His eyes trailed across your skin as he stepped back and circled you with his heated stare. “I find your flesh simply divine and your juice sweet - it could easily be food for the gods.”

His hands caressed your shoulders and his beard tickled your neck as he kissed your racing pulse. Your head began to spin as your blood pumped faster and your need turned to a throb that begged for Stephen's attention.

“Baby?” You asked and felt him hum against your skin. “I have a craving.”

“You are insatiable.” He grinned as he caught your meaning with a soft moan. “I love it.”

He spun you around to face him before opening a portal to your bedroom and backing you up to the edge of the bed. Your hormones left you wet and needy for release, which at the moment was multiple times a day. Thankfully, Stephen was more than happy to oblige as he closed the portal and pulled your jeans off to throw them aside.

“Lay back sweetheart.” He ordered as he knelt in front of you, his fingers already dancing up your thighs to remove your panties.

 You did as you were told and lay down over the made bed but Stephen caught your legs and pulled you until your ass was at the edge and your legs hung over his shoulders. His breath was hot on your skin as he peppered kisses over the stretch marks, new and old, that littered your thighs. Your body was changing in so many ways but he loved them all, showing you just how much with his sweet actions. What he loved most of all was how decadent you smelt to him, you were always mouth watering but now you were carrying his child he was even more sensitive to your scent. 

“I wish you could see how wonderful you look.” He murmured quietly, having a private conversation with your pussy. “So pretty, so perfect.”

His fingers swiped lazily through your slit, his deep groan drifting up to your ears as he felt how wet you were for him. Your clit was already puffed and your pussy lips tender and swollen from the morning sex earlier as much the pregnancy too. You needed more than a single finger pumping slowly in and out of your cunt.

“Please, Stephen, I need to come.” You begged as you pushed up on your elbows so you could look at him between your legs. 

“Lay. Back.” He stated, as he withdrew his finger and taunted you with a slow lick across it before pointing at you. “Now.”

You flopped back with a frustrated huff that turned to a moan as his lips sealed around your clit and sucked. Your hands shot to his head and you gripped your fingers in his hair as your hips arched towards his mouth. Your body was chasing the high without your input but Stephen didn’t like not having control and with a flick of his wrist two golden ropes caught your hands and pulled them above your head. 

“That’s better.” He smirked before returning to his feast. 

Your mewls fuelled him as his tongue swirled your clit and he added a second finger, curling them so he could massage the soft tissue that sent beads of sweat breaking over your skin and your heart to nearly beat out of your chest. 

“Stephen, oh go, I’m so close.” You whimpered as he added a third finger and stretched your cunt like it was his cock. Your walls trembled as he drove you to ecstasy and when you threw your head back with a scream he pulled his fingers away so he could taste the fruits of his labour dripping from your folds. The warmth of his tongue delving between your slit left aftershocks rippling through your body and quickly built up another wave, the orgasm grasping you by the throat as a strangled cry erupted before you did. 

“Fuck, yes, that’s it, come again for me sweetheart.” He coaxed as your legs tightened around his neck and watched your pussy clench and flutter. "Come for daddy."

Every muscle in your body clenched at the incitement and you couldn’t believe the unholy moan that filled the room came from you. “F-fuck…holy shit.”

“You like it too huh.” Stephen winked cockily as he waved away the restraints and rose to his feet, shoving his trousers to the floor as he fisted his strained erection and pressed the leaking head into your swollen hole. “Thought you might. Now, beg for me. Beg for daddy.”

Another strangled cry fell from your lips as you tried to inch closer to him but he held your hips in place, his stilled cock holding your orgasm hostage. 

“Please...” You pleaded as you hooked your legs around his hips and tried to pull him closer. “Please, daddy, I need you to fuck me!”

He slammed his length into you and you cried out at the fullness his fingers could never give you and your nails raked down his back as he bent down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it drove you wild as you were desperate for more. No matter how many times he filled you, you still needed more of his kiss, his touch, his carnal desire.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted as he hooked your leg higher over his hips and thrust harder as he felt your core tighten around him. “I need you to come for me again sweetheart, wanna feel you come before I do.”

“I don’t know if I can.” You whimpered as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s too much.”

Stephen leant back and reached between your bodies to press a thumb to your sensitive clit. A sly grin grew across his face as he felt your pussy pulse and your back arch at the touch.

“You can take it.” Stephen praised as he gritted his teeth and fought off his release, waiting for you to let go first. “You take me so well.”

You couldn’t formulate words as you trembled beneath him, the pressure building until it burst. Your cries were swallowed by his kiss until he broke away with his own deep cry, his body shuddering with his release. He collapsed to the bed beside you, panting at the exertion but it was short lived as he sat up and wiped the sweat on his brow.

“Rest a minute, I’ll run you a bath and you can soak while I shoot over to Kamar-Taj.” He said as he kissed your forehead and climbed off the bed, pulling his trousers backup his hips.

“I thought you didn’t have to work this weekend.” You frowned, sitting up and watching him disappear into the bathroom.

“I have a mission.” He answered over the sound of running water. “I need to find a spell for stamina. It’s not even lunch and I hate to admit it but I am…spent.”

You buried your face in your hands as you tried not to laugh but also felt bad that your hormones made you so horny.

“I didn’t think I need sex so much after all the sex we had getting here.” You chuckled as you placed your hand on your yet-to-show bump. “Maybe I should buy a vibrator and give you a break.”

Stephen pressed his lips together and crossed the room with a shake of his head. “Is that a challenge? Because I have no problem making you come again and again and again without the help of toys.”

You crossed your legs tightly with a laugh before his hands could pry them apart. “Okay, okay, go stick your nose in a dusty book.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked, turning back to stop the water from overflowing the bathtub. His head popped out a portal that appeared beside you and gave you a quick kiss before disappearing again, his voice drifting through as it shut. “I love you.”

You weren’t sure he could still hear you but you said it with a smile anyway as you went to enjoy the bubble bath he had run. “Love you too.”

[pinkteapotwriting]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a wolfstar x reader. Where they find out the reader has a daddy kink, but she’s too shy to tell them? Also Remus and Sirius are a little older than her so she was worried that they’d assume she was only in a relationship with them due to the kink? I love your writing ♥️

Wolfstar x Fem!reader

Warning : Daddy kink, pet names, super sub fem reader, slight degradation, cream pie, male and female receiving. So yeah porn with no plot enjoy

Word count : 2365

I worked really hard on this and I hope you like it darling <3

---

You had always been attracted to older men. You were more likely to develop a crush on a professor rather than one of the boys in your class. It’s just how it has always been, and that’s why you were so happy with your relationship with Remus and Sirius. They were your dream partners, and although you were young, it felt like you had waited forever for people as kind, attentive, and uhhh dedicated to your pleasure. Everything about them just screamed dominance, perfectly suited to your daddy kink.

That’s why it was so frustrating you couldn’t get rid of that fear. That fear that you could scare them away. Of course they cared about you, but Remus was especially adamant that he would never want to hold you back. You adored them, loved them with all your heart. Everything with them was so incredibly satisfying, but to be able to go that extra step into submissiveness, for them to take control the way you desired them to, would make everything that much better. You didn’t want to risk losing them, and even if you didn’t, it’s hard being vulnerable in that way. Taking that first step would be hard, but you knew you would want the same from them. Even though this was somewhat embarrassing. 

---

“Sirius you shouldn’t have, really you don’t have to spend money on me. What did you get anyway?”

“Don’t worry love, it’s more for my benefit than anything.”

“Remus, do you know what it is.”

“Apparently it will be better for me if I’m surprised just the same.”

Sirius handed you a small black bag, with pink tissue paper blocking the top, hindering you from peeking inside.

“Remus and I will meet you upstairs in the bed room, we’ll leave you to appreciate your gift.”

“Pads that’s weird.”

“Moony I promise you’ll appreciate it, trust me.” 

They parted from you, Sirius with a peck to the cheek, and Remus with a lingering forehead kiss. Once you heard them trudge up the stairs of Sirius’s childhood home, you peaked into the bag and raised your eyebrows at the white lace hidden inside.

More for his benefit huh?

---

“Sirius, Remus, I’m ready. Can I come in now?”

They both sat leaning against the headboard. Remus’s right arm across Sirius’s shoulders, playing with the ends of his hair absentmindedly. Sirius was absolutely giddy, so giddy in fact Remus answered for him.

“Come on in Love.”

The floral lace bra supported you in all the best ways, two little pink bows adorned where the straps and the cups met. The white thong hugged your hips, complimenting your thighs and waist. It also had one small pink bow centered in the front of the waistband. Angelic is the way Remus would describe you, while Sirius would describe you as sexy as fuck. Not quite as eloquent, but it gets the job done.

“Siri, you didn’t have to but-”

“But?”

“I feel pretty.”

“You’re much more than pretty Y/N” Remus scolded.

“Does this mean you’ll let me spoil you more often, don’t mind having a sugar daddy so much huh?”

Your face immediately fell as you contemplated the effects his words had on you. Not that you needed him to spend money on you, but the idea of being good for him, of him spoiling his perfect Y/N, Daddy’s girl,  had even more wetness pooling in between your legs. Sirius mistook it for concern though, not the combination of horniness and embarrassment that it was.

“Hey Y/N, I was just kidding, you know I love you right? You’re much more than this thing that we fuck. We want you safe, and we like getting you these things because it’s kind of fun spoiling you. I’d do it much more if you’d let me. And I’m sorry, I was just making a joke with the whole sugar daddy thing.

Remus zoned in on your thighs rubbing together at the word Daddy.

“Sirius wait, Y/N, is there something you’re not telling us?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Sirius joking about being a sugar daddy didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

He smirked as you rubbed your thighs together at the word daddy, pleased that his little test worked. Sirius seemed to be catching on too.

“You know Y/N, we’re not that much older than you. Didn’t cross my mind we’d fit into that category. 

“I don’t understand Sirius.”

“You know perfectly well what I mean. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on and maybe it’ll turn out the way you like.”

“Well…”

You could not make yourself look away from your hands; watching them fiddle around anxiously. Remus’s voice soothed you though.

“It’s alright sweetheart. We want you to feel safe and comfortable telling us anything.”

You took a deep breath.

“I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want you to think that I was in the relationship for this reason. I love you both so much and would hate to make you guys feel insecure about it. I kind of have a Daddy kink.”

Remus kept his poker face, but if you looked close enough there was a hint of a smirk there. Sirius had the biggest shit eating grin there ever was, because he knew he was going to be having the best sex of his life tonight.

Their silence terrified you.

“I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t of said anyth-”

Remus held up a hand to halt your apology, then patted his thigh.

“Why don’t you come sit on Daddy’s lap, angel?”

A shot of pleasure went straight from your spine directly to your aching cunt. You didn’t even know how to respond. So you figured it was best to obey. You crawled up from the end of the bed and straddled his right thigh, the one that was closest to Sirius. Sirius reached for the waistband of your panties and tugged upwards so they could rubbed deliciously across your clit. Remus had to grip your hips and stop you from grinding.

“You know moony, I bought these because she’s supposed to be our innocent little Y/N. Had no idea she was so dirty. Kind of ironic isn’t it.”

“Oh totally and completely ironic. She may not be a pure as we thought, but she’s still a good girl. Isn’t that right Bunny? You like being a good girl for your Daddies.”

When you whimpered instead of answering Remus tightened his grip on your hips and started helping you grind up and down his thigh. Sirius smacked your ass, which had you jolt forward, colliding with Remus’s chest and burrowing your face in his neck.

“Answer his question pup.

“Yes, I like being good for my daddies.”

You whined when Remus halted your movements once again. He raised a questioning eyebrow which had you bite your tongue instantly. You had just said you wanted to be good for them. 

“Aw, I think our desperate baby wants to cum moony.”

“Looks like it. Do you want Siri to eat you out bunny? You want your daddy to make you cum?”

You turned to look at Sirius’s smug expression.

“Yes please, want it so bad.”

“We can tell.”

Sirius’s comment had your expression turning bashful again. He gripped your jaw between his thumb and forefingers before you could turn away though. 

“That doesn’t mean hide it. I like it when you’re openly needy for us. Makes me want to fuck you hard and satiate every little desire of yours. Now climb off Remus’s lap puppy. Gonna make you  cum on my face.” 

You were almost disappointed when he let go of your face, until you remembered what he was about to do. You all too happily turned around and wiggled in as you sat between Remus’s thighs. 

“Not like that pup, ass up for me okay? I think it’s only fair if you take care of Remus while I take care of you. Understand?”

“Yes Daddy.” you hesitated for a moment, confused by Remus still fully clothed. You wanted to see him. You traced the top of his pants lightly with your forefinger. 

“Daddy can I take these off?”

“Please do.”

He pulled off his shirt as you undid his belt buckle and he watched you kiss below his belly button, and lower and lower as you pulled his pants off. Once you had them halfway off Sirius pulled them the rest of the way. You rubbed his prominent bulge through and nuzzled your cheek against his thigh before pressing a kiss against his clothed dick. He laced his fingers through your hair and you would have leaned into the touch, but instead he pulled your head to make eye contact with him.

“No teasing puppy, get right down to it.”

“Sorry daddy.”

“It’s okay love.”

You pulled his cock out from his underwear and were thoroughly impressed by how hard it was considering you barely touched him. You spat onto your hand and jerked his cock for a few strokes, but not wanting to get reprimanded for teasing you licked from the base to the tip then let the head of his cock slip past your lips. That’s when Sirius quickly discarded your panties and slid underneath your parted legs. 

“So wet baby, is this all just from calling us Daddy hmm? Should have told us sooner.”

You continued to bob up and down on Remus’s cock, wanting to earn his satisfaction. Sirius licked a bold stripe across your pussy.

“Such a good girl, fuck.”

Then he properly dove in, flicking his tongue against your clit and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

“Fuck, thinks she likes that pads. You like it when Daddy eats you out?”

You let out a muffled mm hmm against his cock, the vibrations had him throwing his head back and groaning. Sirius didn’t want to waste time talking though, his mouth and now his fingers were occupied, thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt. Bringing you that much closer to your release, while you brought Remus to his. 

“Fuck bunny, m’gonna come down your pretty little throat shit-”

He was now prodding the back of your throat, and you were completely relaxed and taking him like a champ. You felt him twitch so you pulled off just a little bit as his seed painted the inside of your mouth. He stared with lust blown eyes as you showed him your now clean tongue. He cupped your cheek and stroked it with his thumb.

“So good for me baby, such a good girl. You wanna ride Sirius? I think you’re ready now.”

Sirius placed one last gentle kiss to your clit before parting from you and allowing you to shimmy down and straddle his lap.

“Sorry pup, know that feels good but I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“S’okay daddy, whatever you want.”

“Mmm, that’s right baby. Why don’t you put it in now and bounce like a good bunny? You wanna be a good bunny?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Wait.” Remus interjected.

He gripped your wrist before you could grab his dick.

“What?” Sirius sounded quite annoyed.

“Make her say it. I wanna hear her say it.”

“Well bunny, hop to it.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the pun but quickly fixed his eyes back on to you.

“Wanna, Wanna bounce on your cock daddy.”

“Like a what?”

You put your head down in embarrassment.

“Like a good bunny.”

Sirius gripped his cock, placed the tip in your entrance, and slammed up in one foul swoop. You clasped your hand over your mouth, maybe to keep some of the breath in your lungs or maybe because you didn’t want to moan so loud. You really weren’t sure. All you knew was that Sirius was going absolutely feral.

Remus moved behind you and unclasped your bra, finally freeing your boobs from their constraints. He grasped one with his left hand, while the other reached down to rub your clit.

“D-daddy, gonna cum. Can I cum?”

Remus rubbed your clit faster.

“Ask Siri love.”

“Sir, can I cum please.”

“No, Hold it.”

“But da-”

“Hold it.”

Remus was now kissing the expanse of your neck and shoulders, while rolling your nipple between his two fingers. Tears were rolling down your face at the effort it took in holding back your orgasm. All while Sirius was keeping a brutal steady pace from underneath.

“Daddy Please.”

“Go on them cum. Make a mess on my cock.”

You swear you lost your vision for a second. All the sensitivity, all of the built up pleasure finally erupted all at once and if Remus wasn’t holding you you would have collapsed. 

“Atta girl- Fuck”

You hissed in overstimulation as you felt his warmth spread and drip out of your cunt. Remus finally did let you collapse once Sirius had pulled out. 

“Alright love, lets get cleaned up.”

“I don’t think I can walk quite yet Remus.”

Sirius only smiled with a smugness that made Draco Malfoy look humble.

That stupid grin could always get you in trouble.

Especially now that he knows you have a daddy kink.

---

Bonus

The warm bath water soothed your aching muscles almost as much as Sirius scrubbing shampoo into your scalp did.

“Y/N..”

You peaked one eye open at the lanky man in front of you.

“Yes Remus?”

“So obviously Sirius and I have a daddy kink too. The funny thing is we didn’t want to tell you because we didn’t want you to think we were dating you for your age.”

“That is funny, wish one of us would of said something sooner.”

Sirius pecked your cheek.

“Me too love.”

“Besides, you two couldn’t get rid of me that easy. I kind of love you.”

“Only kind of?” Remus teased.

“Kind of love you sounded better than completely obsessed.”

“Well then,” Remus cupped both your cheeks “I kind of love you too.”

“Me too.” Sirius promised. 

The words were casual, but the tone was so intense. It reassured you that they wouldn’t be so easily scared off either.

And there were some things you had much more confidence to tell them now.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @accioweaslcy @weasleyposts @bluemoonyblurbs @emmaev @side-blog-shit @agalandhermarvelobsession 

[luvyanfei]

anon said. how about fluffy hcs with xiao, zhongli and xingqui taking their s/o out on a first date?

XIAO.

he already finds it difficult just to ask you to hold him without losing his cool, so how can he possibly bring up the idea of inviting you on a date? actually, he probably never knew the word ‘date’ even existed until he heard a passing couple staying over at wangshu inn dreamily talking about how they wish they could go to see the lantern rite festival in liyue harbor together for their first date. a first date, huh? now that he thinks about it, xiao never did properly try to court you, did he? it was always you who approached him first, who held your hand out to him, who confessed that you love him. you’re already giving so much dedication in this relationship. it’s the least he can do to return your affections, not just because he’s feeling a bit indebted, but because he’s your lover. unfortunately, being the awkward yaksha that he is, xiao overthinks the situation and complicates it more than he should.

every chance he gets is blown up by his anxiousness. whenever you come and visit him at the inn, you almost think that he’s angry with you from the way he throws you vicious glares. unbeknownst to you, xiao is actually making that tense face because he’s trying very hard, too hard in fact, to think of the best way to ask you out on a date and seeing you just makes him all the more nervous. he regrets it every time you step into the elevator while giving him a goodbye wave and saying you’ll come visit again. sure, he gets another chance to try and ask you out again, but he also has another chance to fail as well.

when you visit him for lunch, xiao quickly rehearses the words he wants to say to you in the back of his head before coming to greet you. ‘i overheard from a guest in the inn talking about a lantern rite festival. if you mortal, no, [name], desires to go, i can possibly set aside time to accompany you.’ keep it cool, yet short. taking a deep breath to compose himself, xiao walks over to greet you, er, well actually, you’re the one doing the greeting instead, and you settle down to eat. the sweet taste of the almond tofu that you generously bought for him blossoms in his mouth and he loses track of time till your departure. before you leave once more to allow the poor yaksha to wallow in his self-regret again, you stop yourself and turn around to face xiao. tucking your hair behind your ear and giving your best, most radiant smile you can offer to him, you shyly ask if he’d like to tag along with you to the lantern rite festival. “we’ve never been on a date before and i’d love to go to the festival with you and release xiao lanterns together.”

... what? how? his mouth almost opens up in disbelief, as he struggles to keep a stoic expression. ex-excuse him?! that’s supposed to be his line! he’s in shock at how easily you were able to say something that he’s been having trouble sputtering out. you mortals never fail to surprise him. he shakes his head and bitterly scowls, that you almost step back in fright. almost, until he starts speaking, that is. “why is it you? i should have been the one to ask you on a date first, not you!” he’s almost on the brink of tears from the frustration he currently holds on himself. 

a relationship is always about give and take, no? it’s like when zhongli has so kindly decided to save him from the clutches of the cruel abuse he endured endlessly, of course he was forever in debt to rex lapis. surely, it’s the same with you, isn’t it? when xiao tells you this, you immediately start laughing. you calmly explain to him that your relationship isn’t like a form of contract where he’s expected to always repay you back for every gift you give to him. as long as he’s there for you, that’s more than enough of a reward, you say, before plopping a chaste kiss to his cheek.  

“finally, you’re here. what took you so long?” xiao speaks to you with indifference concealing the relief that you actually came. he trails his sharp eyes to inspect your dressed up form and blushes slightly. “you look nice.”

immediately, your eyes widen at his underhanded compliment. did- did you hear that right? biting his lower lip gently, xiao clasps your hand in his, ignoring your astounded reaction, as he squeezes it reassuringly while watching the colourful fireworks light up the murky night.

without thinking, he turns to you when you’re focused on the display of bursting lights reflecting in your eyes, and murmurs to himself softly, “i hope you’ll spend the rest of your time with me, for however long it’ll last.”

XINGQIU.

of course, a date with xingqiu has to be extravagant and sophisticated to the last touch, right? guess again. he may come from a wealthy family, but that doesn’t mean he shares the same interest a selfish, pampered noble may have. he prefers something more simple, yet sentimental. confined in his household with nothing to do but bury his head in a book, he’s picked up some ideas for your date from the romance stories he’s read. surprisingly, they’re all rather cliché.  

the first thing he makes you guys do is go out in the blazing summer day to get yourselves a cool beverage. he explicitly asks the cashier to give him one straw [do they even exist in the game?] and smiles slyly as he thanks them and brings the drinks to you. when you ask about it, thinking that maybe he forgot, all he does is smirk before saying, “there’s no need, my liege. we can share, unless you’d rather melt in the sweltering sun, that is.” he winks teasingly. you... don’t really have much of a choice in the matter. as you stroll around the harbor together, you take turns drinking from the only straw and a wave of consciousness washes over you gradually. wait, isn’t this like an indirect kiss? you place a hand to your gaping mouth after sucking on the straw that xingqiu pressed his lips on merely seconds ago. you should know by now, how bold he is underneath his polite façade. 

after you finish sipping your drink - tediously at that, you both agree on going to the library to read books together since the heat is pretty unbearable to do anything enjoyable. xingqiu recommends you to try reading some of his personal favorites and you do the same as well. he’s thrilled to have a reading buddy now since it’s boring being here by himself. 

while you’re immersed in the novel that you randomly picked from the bookshelf, every now and then, xingqiu will look up from the pages of his book and faintly smile to himself, glad that you’re enjoying yourself.

the sun was setting and the stars started to appear in the pastel pink and orange of the evening sky. you place back the last book and stretch your arms, before turning to xingqiu. sighing, you give him a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek and softly say your farewell.

as you’re about to make your leave for the day, xingqiu halts you with his words, “wait. there’s something i need to do before we can end this date.” nonchalantly, he plucks a book from its shelf, opens its pages, and uses it to block the sunlight drifting through the transparent window glass, effectively shielding his vision from the public eye as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

his free hand finds its way combing through the back of your head to deepen the kiss. when he’s satisfied enough, the boy detaches his lips from yours and lightly rubs the flesh of your cheek with a finger, while placing the book down on a nearby table. you keep your eyes fixated on him as he licks the edges of his lips.

“that felt nice,” xingqiu murmurs, “you’re so sweet, i’d hate for anyone else to savor in this pleasant moment with you other than i. shall we continue this again on our next date too?”

ZHONGLI.

the first thing he does is make sure to bring mora, this time. it would be highly inconsiderate of mr. zhongli to have you pay for the expenses of this fine date. he’s one to take things nice and slow. sure, time is unfortunately measured and limited, but he wants to make the most of it with you, a mortal who, just like any other being, has a beginning and end to your life. zhongli wants to shower you in all the beauty and joy this world has to offer while you’re still here with him.

he may be a gentle-spoken and polite individual, but please don’t mistaken him as being shy in any way. he shows up to your residence one afternoon and presents you a bouquet of your preferred flowers while he asks if you would consider accompanying him on a date. you take the bundled up flowers, carefully stroking a petal as if it’s made of fragile glass and accepts his proposal with open arms. 

he takes you out to an expensive restaurant in the night of liyue and helps you select the best dishes. after you’re finished with your lavish and sophisticated meals, zhongli ushers you outside where you’re greeted with fresh air, a contrast to the suffocation you felt back at the restaurant. sure, the place is grand and your hunger is well-satiated, yet despite wearing your best clothing, you felt out of place there, like a commoner surrounded by nobles. 

when you express your earlier discomfort to zhongli, his eyes are filled with shame and he’s already apologizing like the gentleman he is. guiltily, you tell him it’s fine and you ask if you can show him something before you have to head on home. he ponders in thought before agreeing, walking hand in hand with you to your unknown destination. 

the chilling night breeze bites at your bare skin as you instantly shiver. this doesn’t go unnoticed in zhongli’s sharp eyes and he’s already unbuttoning his jacket. he drapes the coat over your shoulder blades and rubs his gloved hands on your cold fingertips to preserve warmth. “are you feeling cold perhaps? maybe we should head back?” you stop him before he can guide you back to the harbor. 

“i’m okay now. thank you for your concern.” you say to ease his poor mind. he nods and you both continue on. the walk uphill takes a while, but it’s worth it when you finally reach the top. your eyes widen in amazement as you witness the glimmering stars splayed across the pitch darkness of the sky. “zhongli, look. do you like it?” he simply nods, but all of his attention is focused on you.

zhongli grins down at your childishly excited face, pausing for a hesitant minute before he carefully places his hands on top of your shoulders. you look up at him in confusion and is about to question him, but any sound that comes out is cut off by his lips ensnaring yours in a kiss. you’re astounded by his intimate move, but you revel in his touch in a matter of seconds. 

he hopes, as he tightens his hold, that you’ll stay with him always, till your last breath. 

tagging. @scarymoosh

[dirtyoatmeall]

Mad Dogs (Kyotani x Reader)

A/N: soft kyotani is on my mind, luv that angry boy. anywayz I'm working on a long Osamu fic to satiate my burning desire for the onigiri man, it'll be out eventually so enjoy this for now :)

Pairing: Kyotani Kentaro x gn!reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: None ! My run on sentences

~

Kyotani could count the times he was genuinely confused on one hand. The time he asked his sister if she was being such a bitch because she was on her period and she responded by threatening to push him down the stairs, the time in first-year when the teacher introduced moles during chemistry, and now, you.

Ever since the beginning of second-year, your actions have never failed to leave the spiker in a state of confusion. One day you sat next to him at lunch, smiling kindly before opening your bento, talking about your day while occasionally asking questions. He never answered them, and you just shrugged and continued on.

He didn’t speak to you for the first week, and when he did, he snapped at you, telling you to leave him alone. You just rolled your eyes and told him “Eat your lunch Kyotani-san, you’ll be less cranky afterwards.” (he did feel better, not that he’d ever tell you.) You’d even bring him food every once in a while, usually when he had a game (not that he ever played). Even when he told you that, you’d just shrug and smile softly, “You never know, so you better eat up, just in case.”

He even thought that Yahaba had possibly put you up to it, in some weird attempt to get him to be a better teammate, but when he brought it up to the setter he just looked at Kyotani oddly and asked, “(Y/N)? Is that the person with the earrings? I’ve never talked to them.” So you just apparently just decided one day to befriend him. (Wait, befriend? You’re not actually friends… are you?)

Another odd thing about you, your accessories. While Aoba Johsai is a private school, it is rather lax on its uniform policy. As long as you had some semblance of the uniform on, you were golden. It gave Kyotani the freedom to cut and dye his hair and wear eyeliner, and it gave you the freedom to wear your… earrings? He asked you about them one day, what they were.

You looked at him bemusedly, “Um, they’re earrings Kyo-san.” When he continued to look at you deadpan, you playfully rolled your eyes, “I was joking! I make them myself, see? Today I’m wearing my beetle ones, and I wore my frog ones yesterday! I just get plastic figures and…” He half-listened while you explained your process, but he found himself focusing on you and not your words. He took in the dopey smile on your face, the way your eyes brightened, and how your hands were more animated while talking about your interests. It was… cute. (Wait, cute? When did he think you were cute?) If you saw the slight blush on his face, you didn’t say anything, which he was thankful for.

After months of eating lunch together, and occasionally accompanying you to the train station, Kyotani found himself coming to the confounding conclusion, he liked you. And not in the ‘I tolerate you’ way. He liked you in the ‘almost got in a fight when someone made fun of your hobby’ way or the ‘I get this weird feeling in my chest when I’m not with you, but when I’m with you I get a weird feeling in my stomach’ way. He had no idea what to do, so he turned to one of the only other people he respected, putting his pride aside to ask for help.

“What did you just say?” His sister looked at him like he had just grown another head. He rolled his eyes, patience thinning. “I said, how do I ask someone out?” It took her a few moments to snap out of whatever daze she was in, a Grinch-like smile appearing (at least, that’s how It looked to him), and she leaned forward. “Aww, does Kenta have a crush? Why don’t you tell me about this mystery person and I’ll tell you the best way to ask ‘em out.” He grits his teeth as he begrudgingly obliged.

After a very painful conversation with his older sister that ended with a “Get them something they like, but not something obvious, something that would show you’ve not only listened, but retained what you know about them.” Kyotani grumbled at the memory, he can’t believe he had to go through all that just to be told something he already knows. He shook his head and got back to the task at hand. He looked at the shelf in front of him, pursing his lips as he contemplated on which one to buy. He thought back to what you’ve worn in the past and decided on one, grabbing two packs and going to the checkout.

It took him three days to do it. The first day he forgot them at home, the second day you had a club meeting, and yesterday he just couldn’t do it. He got in his own head and chickened out. But not today. Today as soon as you sat down next to him in the courtyard, in the shade of one of the many trees on campus, Kyotani thrust the packs toward you, refusing to make eye contact as his cheeks dusted pink. You eyed him warily, but took them nonetheless. When you opened them, you gasped softly.

“Kyo! You got these for me?” You took his silence for an answer and he was glad he glanced at your face at that moment. You had the dopiest smile on your face, eyes big and bright, filled with an emotion he knew all too well. His cheeks darkened and he moved his gaze to your earrings, giraffes. You clutched the packs of plastic figurines to your chest before placing them in your bag. He took the moment to take a deep breath, finally able to think with your eyes off of him. He nodded determinedly to himself and when you turned back around you were surprised to find him closer, gaze unwavering.

“(Y/N).” You raised an eyebrow, “That’s me.” He took another deep breath. (Why was this so hard?) “I like you.” Your cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, to match his own, and your smile this time was softer, yet held more emotion behind it. You stared at him for a moment, and he tried, and failed, to not freak out. (Why weren’t you responding? Oh god did he make a mistake? He was going to kill his sister, why did he think she would have good advice she never dates any-) His spiralling thoughts were cut off by the feeling of soft lips on his cheek. It only lasted a moment, the spot you kissed burning as his gaze snapped to yours, finding your face much, much closer than before, noses almost touching.

You whispered his name, breath fanning across his face as he tried to keep his gaze level with yours, to not look at your lips. Though when your eyes flickered to his own his only thought was, fuck it. And so he closed the very short distance between you two, cupping your cheek gently as he kissed you. Your hand circled his wrist lightly as you reciprocated, tilting your head slightly, deepening the kiss. Your lips moved against each other a little messily at first, but quickly finding the right rhythm. You gripped his wrist a little tighter, moving to scoot closer, wanting to eliminate any and all space between you two when-

“MAD DOG-CHAN IS THAT YOU? OH MY GOD ARE YOU KISSING SOMEONE” You broke apart with a gasp, turning toward the noise to see four figures about fifteen feet away, when your eyes focused you could see they were the third-years from the volleyball team, Oikawa standing with his hands on his hips, wide grin ever-present. Kyotani growled, eyes focused on the third-years. You squeezed his wrist, turning your face to kiss his palm. He looked at you and you smiled. You took his hand from your face and intertwined it with your own before turning to the ones responsible for the interruption. You waved with a big smile and the third-years laughed and waved back before continuing on towards the school. You turned back to Kyotani, kissing him lightly again before pulling away, a playful smirk on your face. “Mad Dog-chan?” He groaned, hand not intertwined coming up to cover his face as you laughed.

BONUS---

Practice was just ending when you walked into the gym, having just finished your own club activities. You waved in greeting as you passed other players, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend as you pecked his lips, pulling away slightly with a smile. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer, smiling softly. You pulled away fully after a few moments, allowing him to pack his bag. Oikawa came over while he was changing shoes, throwing an arm over your shoulder casually. “Ah (Y/N)-chan! I see you finally turned in your manager application! Don’t worry, it was mostly for formalities, not just anyone can calm down Mad Dog-chan like you- wait, what are those!” He gripped your shoulders as he manoeuvred you in front of him, looking intently just below your ear, you smiled mischievously. “Do you like them? I was inspired by your nickname for Kenta!” You cupped your earring gently as you showed Oikawa (and the other third-years who wandered over to see what earrings you had in today). They laughed as they took them in, dangling from your ears was a pair of blonde colored dogs, each with exaggerated eyebrows pulled down into a ‘v’ shape crudely drawn on, making the dogs look comically angry. “They’re mad dogs!”

[oogaboogasphincter]

Kinktober Day 7

💜my kinktober masterlist

pairing: agent whiskey x f!reader

prompt: roleplay🤎object insertion🤎stripping/striptease (prompt list by @the-purity-pen)

rating: E (explicit) 18+ only!

word count: 1300+

warnings: masturbation w a sex toy (f), one (1) gag, dirty talk, idk how else to describe it but jack fucks you w the toy skjdkskd, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns

author’s note: this is stupid but i had so much fun writing it 💀 also sorry that i changed the prompt last minute, i just wasn’t working well w the one i originally chose so i decided to go in a different direction.

gif by @din-djarn​

You’re fidgeting on the couch, trying to find a solution to your problem: you’re horny as all hell. Jack had been super busy at work this week, staying in the office for long hours, yet still had enough energy to satiate your desires when he came home. You had voiced your guilt to him, thinking that he was overexerting himself for your pleasure alone, but he reassured you that he was getting just as much, if not more, in return as he was giving.

Finding relief with your fingers earlier in the week, they just didn’t seem like they would do the trick this time. Insatiability aiding your greed, you rack your brain for what could extinguish your fiery arousal.

Jack had set aside some rope from the stables with the intention of tying you or himself up during a romp. The friction of the rough coils could heighten your stimulation.....

Eh, that’s not it. He had some belts and ties tucked away in his closet, their intended purpose the same as the rope. 

That doesn’t sound right either. You need something bigger, thicker. Something that will rut tight against your walls, that will reach such depths it will feel like it’s playing with your intestines. Then, a memory passes through your mind, and you reach out just in time to grab it. It has you rushing up the stairs to your bedroom to see if it’s too good to be true.

This past Valentine’s Day, Jack had gotten you a dildo. It was half meant as a wicked joke, half meant for serious usage. Royal blue, with silver flecks of sparkles seen through the transparent silicone, you didn’t know if Jack had picked the colors on purpose. They matched his Statesman snowsuit, his denim attire; hell, his damn helicopter was named Silver Pony. It was just so Jack that the colors made you unironically wet. After teasing that he couldn’t make you cum harder than the sex toy (which you were swiftly proven wrong), it had been shoved to the back of your underwear drawer, long forgotten. 

Frantic hands throw silk thongs and cotton boyshorts to the sides of your underwear drawer now, widened pupils scanning the scene for a sign, any sign, of the translucent phallus. You’re about to give up and call it a lost cause when the round of a fake testicle catches your attention. The absurdity of the object makes you laugh out loud, as it did when you tore the wrapping off of it in front of Jack’s expectant eyes months ago. Enveloped in a cliche, hot pink mesh lingerie set you wore on the lustful holiday, you unravel the bundle to reveal the desired item. 

Tossing it onto the bed with a bounce, you strip your clothes off and let them fall to the floor, overly excited to bury the cock to the hilt inside of your soaked pussy. You get on all fours, grasping the dick in one hand, when you decide to have some extra fun with it. You conclude that you’re fucking yourself with a fake cock, might as well throw all insecurity and embarrassment out the fucking window and do what you want. So you bring it to your face and suck on it, swirling your tongue around its girth as if it were Jack’s. The absence of his distinct taste and feel is a downer, but it doesn’t make you engulf the dildo with any less passion. Satisfied with how much you’ve wet the semi-floppy thing, you reach your arm behind you and stuff it into your drenched core. 

You let your moans slip out without hesitation, although they sound a little jarring in the otherwise dead silent house. In an effort to add some sound to the atmosphere - and to push you to your climax - you put on a mental record of Jack’s pants, grunts and whimpers. You imagine his strong hands bruising your hips, abs working hard to thrust his groin into yours, his eyes lust-blown and boring into yours as he makes you watch him fuck you from behind with a hand holding your jaw. Two deep thrusts later and you’re contracting around the sparkly cock, screaming out Jack’s name and coating the silicone with slick. You slightly overstimulate yourself by shallowly pushing the cock in and out of you in rapid succession. A whine gargles from your throat at the same time the door opens downstairs. 

Jack calls out your name into the empty ground floor. From his tone of voice, you can tell that he’s planning on stripping you down the second he lays his eyes on you and ravaging you until you can’t take anymore. Little does he know you’ve gotten a head start.

“Up here, Jack!”

Agonizingly slow, you back your hips up into your hand, massaging your fluttering walls with the dildo. You look behind you when you hear his booted footsteps stop, finding him leaning against the doorframe. Umber eyes sparkling, eyebrow raised and slack jaw pulling up into a smile, he greets you, “Why, hello, gorgeous.”

Giggling as he walks around the bed, you continue your activities, pleasing to his attentive stare. He questions while unbuttoning his shirt, slacking down his jeans, “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” 

Suddenly growing shy, you bite your lip and blush magenta, “Nothin’.”

He cocks his head to the side, “You sure? ‘Cuz I think this is quite a somethin’.”

Now bare of clothes, he kneels on the bed and plants kisses down your side, starting at your ribcage and traveling downward to your ass, a slip of his tongue wetting you here and there. He peers at your backside up in the air, humming admiringly at the patient, steady way you’re fucking yourself. He wraps his hand around yours, “Lemme see this thing.”

Exiting your body in an easy slide, you whimper at the loss of the dildo. Jack flips you over onto your back, his free hand reaching up to caress your breast, as he examines the toy, “You’ve already cum on this, haven’t you?”

With a flutter of your eyelashes, you shrug, “Maybe.”

Jack brings the phallus to his face and puts it in his mouth, savoring the taste with a dart of his tongue across the edge of his mustache when he pulls it out, “Yup, that would be the sweet, sweet flavor of my babygirl’s cum.”

The aroused heat in your cheeks extends to the tips of your ears as he twirls the toy in his hand.

“This was supposed to be a gag gift.”

“But now I want you to gag on it, honey pie.”

Your head tips back and your jaw hangs open, and Jack eases the toy past your lips, down your tongue and into your throat. He has to pull back and thrust the toy down your throat again in order for you to give him what he wants: a wet, aroused gag. He retracts it from your mouth and catches a string of spit connecting your lips to the toy in a searing kiss.

“Open up those legs for me.”

You spread your thighs as far as you comfortably can, practically itching for him to fuck you with the dildo. He wastes no time in sinking it into your hot center, pushing slow yet deep at first. One of your hands molds itself to the back of his neck while the other grips his knuckles tight, following along with his movements. Slick squeezing out between your folds and the girth of the dildo, you and Jack both watch intently, transfixed by the graphically alluring image in front of you. Your hand curls over his, encouraging him to go faster, the precipice of your orgasm seconds away. As soon as he takes your direction, you cum. Hard. His name, a slew of curses and begs for him to keep going come tumbling out of your mouth, but you’re shut up when he retracts the dick. 

Jack settles on his knees between your open, trembling thighs, lining himself up with your entrance, “Now let me claim what’s rightfully mine, and not some rubber cock’s.”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​

[bestialchorus]

The Invisible String- Chapter 5 (Final)

You feverishly kiss Donna back while rushing into the hallway, your grip tightens as she pulls you flush against her. To think, just hours earlier a simple grazing of skin burned your flesh like acid. But now you eagerly embrace each other’s desperate desire, welcoming all that was originally hidden in the darkness as it rises to the surface. You never could have predicted the woman returning your feelings, let alone with such vigor. You’ve only kissed and yet, Donna kisses you as if she’s trying to express something that cannot be said through words, speaking a language only possible through love and lust. Every touch is making it harder for you to keep your composure.

For a split second you think about heading to Donna’s room, only to quickly abandon the idea once you remember it’s full of dolls. You assume it best for all parties if you were away from prying eyes. The only witness to your passions is the grandfather clock you run by as you awkwardly enter your room, shutting the door behind you with a kick of your foot, your hands much too preoccupied to help.

Brilliant rays of sunlight shine into your window, illuminating the cozy room you’ve been occupying for the past year.

The bed dips under Donna as you lower her as gently as you can despite the haste in your movement. But the dollmaker has no intention of separating, you smile as she brings you down with her, bracing your hands on either side of her head. The plush bed anchors you as reality begins to melt away, all that exists is Donna and the little sounds of pleasure she exudes as you kiss her harder….but you want more, no, you needmore.

Donna almost protests when she feels your lips leave hers, only to release a small sigh once you start peppering kisses along her jawline. Already she feels slightly delirious, slowly catching her breath as you lovingly mark her skin and mark her you do. Donna cradles your face as you trial down her neck, softly gasping as you start to leave a hickey, her alabaster skin quickly bruises. The sensation is new for her but hardly an unwelcome one as she feels her core pulse, her body embracing, no, aching, for more. Warmth plagues her skin, making her head feel heavy as her physical desires start to take over. You make your way back to her lips, lightly nipping at her skin, leaving as many “signs” of your love as you can. You selfishly want to let the world know she is yours and you are hers. It’s primitive and a bit animalistic but you can’t help it, there’s something about the woman with veil trying to hold back her erotic sounds as you make her yours that brings out another side of you. The image of her snowy skin turning pinker as every touch overwhelms her is almost intoxicating.

When you finally pull away, heavy breathing fills the air as you admire each other. Her hair is sprayed across the sheets, finally free, crowning her with a dark halo. The image reminds you of the angels you’ve see on stained glass windows, appropriate considering you wish to worship her in every sense of the word. Her gaze locks onto yours, her eye is completely black now, like a void calling for you to get lost within it once more.

Donna places a hand on your cheek, worry evident on her face as her voice brings you back.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Is something wrong?”

You must have been staring at her longer than you realized.

You lightly shake your head, taking a few seconds to look down at her, REALLY look at her before answering. “You’re just……so beautiful, Donna.” You say with a breathy whisper, almost in disbelief of her existence.

Surprise flashes over her face for a few seconds, clearly not expecting such a response. Donna avoids your gaze as her cheeks flare up, her demeanor shrinks as she speaks.

“You just…..you’ve always just been too nice to me, Y/N.” She softly retorts, trying to find the hidden meaning behind your statement. *You don’t have to lie to me, I know what I look like*- she thinks, her expression riddled with insecurity and doubt.

Your eyes slightly narrow as you study her, gaze lingering as you try to process her statement, your expression unreadable as various emotions fill you. It pains you to think Donna believes you taking her bed is you simply being “nice”. But you know addressing a lifetime of anxieties isn’t exactly the best kind of pillow talk, nor is it something that can be helped overnight. But there is something you can do, right here in this moment; you can try to convince her, to show her your feelings go beyond “nice”.

The woman catches something flash over your eyes, but what exactly she can’t pinpoint. You ever so slightly bite your lip as you look away for a second before returning to her.

“I’m glad you think me kind, my love-“ You say while leaning down, your hair framing her face.

*my love* The term of endearment makes her heart skip a beat.

“..but it seems I’ve failed to properly show you how I really feel about you…” The bed creaks under you as you place a knee between her legs, the sudden pressure makes her gulp.

Your gaze locks onto her, “but I think I know how to convince you.” You finish with a low whisper, pressing your leg further against her. Donna loudly whimpers in response, quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment as she feels another pulse ripple through her core. Your own cheeks warm up from how erotic you find the sound…but you can’t help but want to hear more.

You gently remove her hand and give her a chaste kiss, her lips try to follow you as you pull away, wanting to explore your mouth once again.

“You sound as beautiful as you look.” You again overwhelm her with your words alone, your deep stare only adding to their meaning. Though you see disbelief in her eye- she doesn’t look away this time, almost as if this is her way of “compromising”.

You take your time as you lean back, bed creaking from the shift in weight as you straddle the woman, your gazes locked onto each other. Donna looks up at you, gulping as your stare doesn’t waver, instead, noticing your hand slowly start to reach towards her dress. Anticipation fills her veins as you inch closer. But right as you’re about to reach the buttons over her chest, you stop and hover for a bit before pulling back. Donna tries to suppress the anxiety that tells her “you’ve come to your senses” about wanting the one-eyed mutant. She instead tries to decipher the idea that flashes over your eyes. You catch the woman off guard, suddenly ripping your own outfit off with visible determination. You throw the clothing behind you with little care, showing no acknowledgement as it hits the floor.  

You think it may be more comfortable for the dollmaker if you were naked first…and by the way she looks at you, you may be right.

Donna’s eye travels over your figure as sunlight highlights every detail. She looks up at you with what can only be described as awe, as if she was looking at an ethereal being for the first time. You never thought much of your body.  But Donna’s expression says otherwise; for there is admiration there, mixed in with something you know too well, hunger.

“Y/N… you’re perfect.” She says earnestly and you can’t help but bashfully look away for a second as a crimson hue emerges over your face. She simply responds with a doting smile as it truly wasn’t her purpose to embarrass you, but she can’t help but adore every aspect of you, physical and all.

*Geez, for someone with little social skills she sure knows to make a girl blush.*  You think while scratching the back of your head.

You try to regain your composure through a joke, “I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Mistress Beneviento.” Your voice low and coy.

Unfortunately, Donna refuses to let you recover, continuing to rattle your composure…all without even trying.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted.”

She says without missing a beat. Her expression is as determined as it is loving, the seriousness behind the statement makes your heart race.

Oh, how you could write poems, novels, of how this moment sets your heart ablaze. How your love for this woman could be read as sermons of worship for those looking for the meaning of life, for you’ve found it in the face that looks back at you…but right now you can’t, for your mind is only full of static. Something is taking over, something more….animalistic. The heat you’ve felt late within the night as you dreamed of this woman is nothing compared to the flames that fill you now. Hell has awakened within you and it’s taking over…

Donna takes notice of how your breathing has quickened. You look down at her like a beast who has cornered its prey, she’s ashamed to admit that it excites her. Her gaze tells you to take her, to satiate your hunger and to not look back…so you do.

You capture her lips in a fevering kiss, running your hands down her dress. She quietly whimpers as she feels you begin to gently massage her chest through the heavy fabric. The pressure sparks heat between her legs, making it harder for her to kiss you as she moans against your mouth. Donna throws her arms over your shoulders as you deepen the kiss, anchoring herself as your tongue explores her.

The temperature in the room rises as Donna starts to realize just how sensitive she is, quickly becoming overwhelmed as your hands travel over her body. The dollmaker’s dress starts to feel tighter the more her arousal begins to grow. The offending fabric suddenly feels too heavy, almost suffocating as she aches for your touch against her skin.

Eventually your hands graze over the buttons on her collar once again, Donna holds you there with a fierce grip. The gesture makes you break the kiss, you look down at her in a slight daze. You’re met with a flushed Donna, her pale skin now wearing a prominent blush. The woman’s gaze travels down your body, taking her time before quickly flickering back towards her hands, squeezing tighter as she tries to tell you what she needs. You take the hint and begin undoing the first button, gently addressing her.

“Are you sure? There’s no rush.” You say with a slight shake to your head, looking to her for consent.

Normally Donna loves your patience but not now, not when she feels as if she could combust at any moment.

“Please, Y/N. Please don’t stop.” She pleads with a rasp to her voice, looking up at you with desperation. The image makes your cheeks burn, creating heat between your legs.

You lower yourself back down to her, matching her whisper. “Okay…” You claim her lips once again, “okay..”

Donna’s grip instantly loosens as you taste her again, hands surrendering as she feels you unbutton the rest of her dress. Your heart drums against your chest as you undo the final button, leaning back as you gently help the woman maneuver out of the outfit, finally removing it and her underwear with it. You toss the articles of clothing to the side, the fabrics gently smack against the floor.

Your eyes fall onto the woman before you. Donna sits on her knees; hands covering her chest as goosebumps naturally form over her newly bare skin. She wears a bashful look, trying not to retreat as your gaze travels over her. You notice the occasional patch of mutation over the right side of her body, very similar to her eye. But just like the rest of her face, the rest of her body is equally porcelain in nature. Everything about it is just so……perfectly Donna. You cup her face and softly smile at her.

“Thank you for trusting me…” You whisper while lightly caressing your thumbs over her cheeks. The woman hangs off your every word, taking in all of you as you take in all of her.

“Thank you for letting me see you…..but now I want to show you how beautiful I find you.”

Your words make her heartbeat quicker.

You position yourself behind her, brushing her hair away over a shoulder as your lips meet the back her neck. She relaxes under your touch, exposing more of her skin to you as she leans into your kisses. A sigh escapes Donna as she feels your hands trace over her the outline of her shoulders, lightly grazing over her skin with the pads of your fingertips, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your amazed of how smooth she feels; even the bumps of her mutation feel almost inhumanely soft. Her skin feels less like skin and something more akin to satin.

“My gods, Donna..” You rest your head on top of her shoulder, looking down as you watch your hands makes their way towards her chest, slowly caressing up her body.  

“You’re so soft.” You coo against her ear as you cup her breasts, making a shiver run down the dollmaker’s spine. Donna feels heat pool in her core as you massage her chest, quicky losing clarity as you lovingly fondle her. She moans, slightly squirming as she feels your fingers delicately claim her nipples, rubbing them between your index and thumb. To no surprise, your Mistress is quite sensitive, the nerves in her body ignite as her peaks pebble between your fingers. Her heavy breathing arouses you, making you release a shaky breath against her ear as your eyes shut for a moment. The sensation has her desperately seek your lips once again, turning her face towards with you with a silent plea.

Your mouths meet and her lips burn your flesh. Her moans fill you as her hands suddenly cover yours. Donna slightly keels over as your lips claim her shoulders, bed creaking under your weight as you singe her skin with more hickeys. Your dominate begins to hand glide down her body, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. You only have two hands and yet it’s becoming harder for the dark-haired woman to pinpoint where exactly she begins, and where you end. With every passing second your bodies blend more into each other, becoming one as your desires finally meet.

Donna takes a breath in as the tips of your fingers inch towards her sex, biting her lip in anticipation as you move a bit too slow for her.

“Please…” she rasps, already lightheaded.

You loudly moan into her ear as your fingers enter her with ease, realizing how wet she is, she’s practically dripping. “Fuck…”

Donna immediately covers her mouth as you easily fill her. At first your pace is slow, trying your best to slowly ease her into it as her walls engulf you. The dollmaker bucks into your touch, body urging you to speed up as she tries to focus on subduing her sounds but failing as they become louder from behind her hands.

“Please let me hear you, Donna. I want to hear you.” You breathe into her ear.

You accentuate the point by lightly biting her neck. You quickly make sure to soothe the sensation by running your tongue over it and sealing it with kisses. Too overwhelmed to refute, the dollmaker throws a hand to your cheek and the other over your hand, supporting herself as vocalises everything she feels.

Her sweet sounds fill the air; whimpers making your head spin and moans making you quicken your pace. The beast still rules you, telling you to mark her so the world knows she belongs to you but there’s something else here, something much softer. Donna begins to pant against your ear, making your core burn but that doesn’t matter right now, for all you want is for her to feel sweet release. You start pumping in and out of her as quickly as you can, hand starting to cramp up, but you don’t dare slow down.

Donna’s hand tightly grips yours as she finally keels over, landing on all fours as your body mounts her from behind, your hand never leaving her centre. You decide to try something out…

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” You praise her as you nip at her ear, making her whine and you decide to push further. You continue to whisper sweet affirmations, this in combination with your fingers pumping in and out of her makes her tightly clutch the sheets, knuckles turning white. You tell your Mistress how erotic she is, how her lovely mewls stir something deep within you, pressing your body further against her from behind. Wetness starts to drip down her thigh.

Without warning, the dollmaker loudly moans, her body slightly spasms once your fingers find a certain spot. Her legs start to shake as you repeatedly press against it, confirming your discovery.

“There! Please there!” She cries, rutting harder against your hand, desperately trying to add more pressure.

You answer her plea by tightening your grip over her body and suddenly upping your pace until its relentless. Your carnal desires take over as you hook your fingers into her, filling her as deep as you can while your palm roughly hits against her clit. Donna is barely holding herself up as you rail into her, pleasure clouding her mind as you grunt against her ear.

“Y/N…” She says in between ragged whimpers.

You involuntarily buck against her, your body moving on its own as you take her both from the front and from behind. You ferally pound against your mistress.

Your voice comes out heavy with desire, as you and Donna are cheek to cheek.

“Come for me, Donna….I want you to come for me, baby.”

Hearing your voice finally sends her over the edge…

The dollmaker almost blacks out as she comes with a cry, all of her builtup pressure finally released as her body goes limp. The woman would have collapsed onto the bed if you weren’t there to support her, you hold her flush against you. You lovingly kiss Donna’s face as you continue to gently finger her, slowing your pace as you help her come down from her high.

“You did so good, my love.” You comfort the limp woman in your arms, gently lowering her onto the bed as she tries to catch her breath. She looks up at you through hooded eyes, a lazy smile on her face as she feels completely at ease, it’s as if she’s released some sort of weight, she somehow feels lighter.

You return her smile and bring your hand to your mouth. You lick your fingers clean, keeping your gaze locked onto her, waiting for her reaction. A sudden blush appears on Donna’s face, eyes widening in realization as she gulps.

“You taste delicious, Mistress.” You say playfully.

The woman lays there stunned as another pulse sparks her core, blush deepening.

“Is that..possible?” Her voice quiet but carrying genuine curiosity.

For some reason you find the question endearing and you feel that softness once again. Without thinking you straddle her and lower yourself until you’re face to face. Her eye travels over you but different this time, it’s as if she was looking at you with fresh eyes, as if you’re still Y/N but meeting you again for the first time. You gently kiss where her right eye should be, taking a pause to look at her as you press another kiss to her lips. Your actions make you realize what this softness is…but you want to show her, just, without the beast.

She happily sighs as you she feels you kiss down her body, bringing her hands to your hair once again, lightly caressing your scalp. This is when Donna notices healed lash marks down your back, narrowing her eye as she tries to process them during the quiet moment. Confusion and worry fill her but right as she’s about to raise concern, she feels you kiss her inner thighs. Her gaze meets yours and without warning you give her sex a languid lick, never breaking eye contact. Donna bucks against you, feeling her arousal return as your tongue continues to worship her.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up within the dollmaker, her thighs tightening around your head as you suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. But right as you feel her release coming, you stop- much to Donna’s disappointment as she whines. But you don’t leave her waiting for long as you quickly move back up her body, straddling her as you capture her lips once again.

But before she can register what’s happening you start to grind against her, rubbing your sex against hers. Donna holds you tight against her chest (consciously making sure she doesn’t disturb your marks), eye shut while gasping into your mouth as she loses herself to the sensation. It feels both heavenly and sinful. Sweat starts to run down your forehead as you give into the carnal pleasure, equally losing yourself to the moment. That is…until you look down at her.

The beast starts to fade away again, desperately trying to clutch at your senses but it’s no match for her…no one is. Your heart swells when you look at her, wound up to no end, hair in complete disarray as sounds of pleasure leave her. You now understand what the softness is…and it terrifies you. Insecurity riddles you once again as you ferally rut against her, feeling her wetness down your thigh. Donna arches her back off the bed as she’s about to come once again, further pressing herself against you as her toes curl.

No. Do not allow fear to blind you. Give yourself to her, ALL of you just as she has to you. Speak your truth and be brave, for she deserves that…and maybe..just maybe, so do you.

You feverishly capture her lips again and she matches your passion. “Donna? Donna, please look at me.” You almost plea between kisses.

Her eye flashes open, you see very little white in it, and you wonder if it’s a side effect on her mutation, regardless- it only adds to her beauty in your eyes. Donna struggles to keep your gaze as she feels you begin to speed up, responding with a shaky cry and you almost come then and there. But with the little composure you have, you speak.

“I love you…”  You begin pounding into her with everything you have, the bed loudly squeaking under you. You press your forehead against hers as you continue, your entire body tensing up as your gaze locks onto hers.

“I love you, Iloveyou,Iloveyou, Iloveyou!!” You chant over and over again as you finally bring her over the edge. Donna arches her back and violently slams against the bed with a harrowing sob. Her eye rolls into the back of her head, nails digging into your back until she quickly goes slack under you. You come just seconds later; your voice caught in your throat as the smallest sound leaves you. You see stars before immediately collapsing onto the dollmaker.

The heavy breaths of you and your lover fill the air, a small smile appears on your face as you feel her hands embrace you, holding you in her arms. You hear her sniffle and use what little strength you have; you look at her. Remnants of tears can be seen in the corner of her eye and concern covers your face. But before you can comment Donna speaks.

“It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me, Y/N. Just a bodily response to overwhelming…feelings.”

Your worry is replaced with guilt. “I shouldn’t…so quickly- I should have waited-“  You’re stopped by her finger gently pressing over your lips.

“Shhhhh, believe me when I say I enjoyed every second of it. You would know if I didn’t.” She finishes with a warm smile. She’s right, you would. You can tell when Donna is lying or feeling uncomfortable by her voice alone and currently you don’t hear any discomfort in it (or see any for that matter).

Her smile suddenly becomes bashful as she awkwardly looks away from you, forcing herself to meet your gaze again as she speaks.

“I..I just wanted to say..” She gulps and anxiously stares as you as she works up the courage to continue. Whenever Donna struggled to say something, you always told her the same thing, time and time again; take your time, there’s no rush.

You decide to reposition yourself so you’re holding her in your arms, you place a kiss against her forehead.

“Take your time, there’s no rush.” You lovingly say as you bring the comforter over both of you. This seems to give her the courage she needs.

“I..I-I love you too, Y/N. Truly I do.” You smile at her as she characteristically blushes, and you tenderly kiss her once again. Though she hasn’t voiced it yet, the head of House Beneviento would kiss you for the rest of her life if she could. When you pull back you stop just a breath away and push some stray hair behind her ear. The air shifts as you address her, your voice soft but steady.

“I can’t believe it took us this long to say it….we make quite the pair.” You finish with a playful tone and Donna responds without skipping a beat.

“At least you didn’t have to get advice from the other lords…” She admits sheepishly.

Your mouth hangs agape in shock. Donna goes on to explain how she went to her fellow Head of the Houses for confessional advice, apparently some advice ended up being more helpful than others. She also admits that certain “meeting” days was simply a coverup so she could spend time at Castle Dimitrescu. Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters were especially helpful with listening and giving Donna the confidence boost she needed to tell you.

Donna tries her best to impersonate each of the animated members of House Dimitrescu and you listen intently, enjoying very much how comfortable she seems without her veil. It feels as if a wall has disappeared between you, and you couldn’t be more grateful. She giggles when remembering how defeated Alcina looked once the young women started suggesting “sexy” lingerie as “bait” (an idea she immediately shot down, but they continued anyway). You allow her to relive her memories, admiration in your eyes until a sudden realization hits you.

“Oh my gods, Donna…”

She looks at you, curiosity evident on her face.

“…..you seduced me. I can’t believe you would use your prodigious title to seduce a poor, innocent painter like myself. The rumors are worse than world could have ever imagined, Donna Beneviento; devious seducer of young maidens…who could have guessed.” You say while feigning shock. You add to your over-the-top performance by clutching imaginary pearls, hand splayed across your forehead.

Donna gives you the lightest smack on your arm while giggling but decides to play along.

“Oh, what will innocent maidens do with a menace like me on the loose?”

In a fluid motion you straddle her once again, lowering yourself to her face as you whisper.

“I suppose it’s up to me to help satiate your hunger. It’s the only way everyone will be safe.”

A pleased smile emergences on Donna’s face, happy of where the moment is going. “Are you willing to make such a sacrifice?”

You raise an arched eyebrow at her in response, fighting back a smile. You look down at her for a few seconds before going to whisper into her ear, your voice heavy with suggestion.

“That depends, how hungry are you Mistress?”

She answers your question by grabbing your face and bringing your lips back to hers, telling you she has an insatiable appetite but maybe just maybe, you’ll be able to help with that.

[drxwsyni]

The Only One︱Yandere Dabi x f!Reader

Synopsis: Friends with benefits aren’t supposed to be exclusive, but Dabi thinks otherwise. Too bad he waited until you fucked up to tell you that.

a/n: So uhhh y’all can thank @hawks-senseis for the inspo on this oneshot. Here’s where the idea came from if you want more context.

Hero Camp Bingo prompt: Hair pulling

@bnhabookclub weekly nsfw prompt: “Touch yourself.”

Bingo Masterlist 

Warnings: Heavy dubcon/noncon, swearing, coercion, violence, injury, forced voyeurism, oral (giving), threats of murder, unprotected sex, degradation, hair pulling, light choking, spanking, gen. yan. themes, ambiguous ending (this one’s a doozy, PLEASE do not read this if the warnings make you uncomfortable)

6.5k words

_____

It felt good to get away from him―a certain pride to be had in the act of unspoken disobedience.

You should feel proud, he had it coming after all. Dabi might be a good mentor for passing souls heading down the path of corruption, like yourself, and he was an even better fuck―but that doesn’t mean he reserves the right to treat you like second-hand garbage.

No amount of wisdom from a seasoned villain or mind blowing sex could excuse his actions.

Dabi had a tendency to be lazy during all the worst moments. Avoiding the necessary like it was the plague, offering vague non-committal responses―sometimes not even that. He didn’t like answers that could make him liable, and so he never gave them to you.

When it came to the terms of your more intimate relationship, he didn’t care to set any ground rules. On many occasions you tried to pry an opinion out of him, but the most you got were heated glares and scoldings that didn’t assist you in understanding his preferences. Dabi never expressed concern over the level of exclusiveness the two of you were on.

So, you assumed he didn’t care.

Which made it all the more easy to disregard him when you couldn’t stand the thought of being around the flame user. If he wanted to be moody and take his frustrations out on you, that was up to him. But he shouldn’t expect you to come loyally crawling back when you needed to release some pent up energy.

Dabi would probably expect it though. Too bad for him.

You were still on a high, endorphins coursing steadily through your system. Part of you was bothered that even after you’d disregarded Dabi’s questionable feelings over you seeking others to fulfill your needs, you still found yourself thinking of him after the deed was done. Because as you lay in bed, a fellow villain in the works just about completely passed out next to you, your mind still drifted to Dabi.

You cursed yourself for the internal betrayal.

It only made you more pissed at the arsonist. Here you were, trying to enjoy yourself completely free of his mindless torment, and yet you still thought of him. Did he feel the same levels of distress as you did over such a menial thing?

Honestly, you doubted it. Dabi’s carefree attitude probably wouldn’t allow him a second thought towards your comfort. But maybe, under that tough exterior was a man who might actually give a damn about whatever the two of you have going on.

Unfortunately, his recent behaviour made you unable to sympathize. He didn’t deserve your energy that was put into thoughtful concerns and ‘what ifs’ over unspoken realities. What he did deserve was something to make him feel as uneasy as you did. It was worth a shot―to poke the bear.

Determinedly, you swiped your phone from the nightstand next to you, the warm glow of the lamp lightly illuminating your side of the bed. It was late, but you knew all too well about Dabi’s unhealthy sleeping habits, along with the other self-destructive tendencies you had to put up with many times before.

With a few taps on the smooth touchscreen, his contact was pulled up, and subsequently the ongoing conversation.

You were an independent woman, and he needed to know that. It wouldn’t surprise you if Dabi thought he had you wrapped around his finger. So, in this state of post-sex bliss, it only seemed right to let him know just what he was missing.

Well...sort of.

It was probably safer to keep the details of your night vague, for the sake of both yourself and the now slumbering individual next to you. A non-explicit, but still concrete in meaning message.

< How do you feel about the thought of me with someone else?

…

You figured he’d be up at this hour. And especially given the state of your relationship, you expected him to respond immediately. He might be a moody little bitch but he was almost always down to hook up.

But there was nothing.

Semi-defeated, you threw your head back against the flat pillow. Fucking typical.

Your phone buzzed in the light grip your hand held on it.

> i’d probably fuck you infront of them and then kill them.

Just slightly, your eyes widened at the message, an unexpected feeling of anxiety pitting in your stomach.

...Oh.

Dabi could be crude...so now was just him doing what he does best, right? Well, if he suddenly had such a strong opinion, then why shouldn’t you give him a taste of his own medicine?

Act like him―like you don’t care. That’ll rile him up.

< Yeah, okay…

You waited for a response in anticipation. It was petty, but you wanted so badly to make him hurt the way you did. Dabi never gave a shit about you enough to offer any form of permanency, or commitment to preserving your feelings. Realistically, you shouldn’t be so torn up over a guy who is that careless.

But as you lay in bed, eyes trained on the artificially glowing screen, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest from growing.

The text showed, ‘read 1:40 AM.’

And so, you could only resign yourself to fate.

_____

Dabi couldn’t technically blame you for your behaviour―but he was going to regardless.

While he never came out and said he was bothered by your spur of the moment, mixed-message text, you could tell that you’d struck a nerve. And now you were starting to regret it, for the most part.

Dabi didn’t get angry in the same ways a lot of people did. He didn’t curse anyone out, or make a scene out of putting someone in their place. No―he was silent with it.

From the time he’d spent accompanying you on missions, you slowly picked up on his habit for chatter amidst the fighting. Relentlessly taunting the enemy before burning them to a crisp, with a stretched grin on his face the whole time. Dabi knew his strengths usually tended to outmatch his opponents, so he grew cocky.

You hated him for it, but now you wished those teasing remarks he’d throw around the battlefield were still a thing of the present.

Dabi didn’t need to use words to show just how much your surprise text ended up irking him. The unbridled violence, burning any threat in sight that got close to either of you without so much as a hint of hesitation to think about his actions told you all that you needed to know.

He didn’t say anything outside of the few worded offers of instructions during your brief outings. And even then, Dabi was uncharacteristically cold. Not that he didn’t always have a certain air of harsh sternness, but throughout it persisted a distinct playfulness. Something that suggested his arsonistic behaviour was amusing to a degree.

And now it boiled down to destroying anything and everything without batting an eye, with a look that could kill cemented into his features the whole time.

It was a mistake.

With each passing second spent in the heavy silence that was his presence, your resolve to stay proud of making him feel for you was crumbling into ash. The tension remained palpable, and some deep fury inside of him was practically buzzing off of his being.

So when he called you two weeks after the incident, you figured he was ready to tell you to fuck on out of his life. It would be better than the seething rage he quite clearly felt whenever you were near him. An act of mercy, so to speak. You still had potential as an upcoming villain, so perhaps he didn’t want to see all his hard work go to waste.

But then he invited you over.

Dabi almost had to repeat himself as you failed to comprehend his words for a moment. He wanted to apologize. In person, no less. To make up for his shitty behaviour, a result of something that wasn’t even your fault.

Surely you could spare him the time of day, or rather night, to hear the poor guy out?

You agreed.

But your gut feeling told you to run in the opposite direction and never stop.

Turns out, Dabi really did have you wrapped around his finger. Because despite that sinking feeling that just got worse and worse with every step in the direction of his place, you kept going. The voice in the back of your head screaming at you, telling you that something was wrong. That it’s Dabi you’re talking about, and he’d never just admit to being at fault―it was never offered the spotlight in your consciousness.

Because even though the two of you weren’t exclusive, what happened two weeks ago was the first time you were ever with another person like that. Dabi was your first, he taught you everything you wanted to know. But even then, as someone who held such an important place in your life, he couldn’t find it in himself to offer you anything more than those passing nights satiating each other’s carnal desires.

That’s why you moved forward. Hoping that this would be the turning point. That you’d finally be free from his vague answers that left you more unsatisfied than before you even asked them. You didn’t need his permission to be with other people, but you had a strange sense of loyalty to him for showing you the ropes.

What you wanted now was for him to admit that whatever was going on between you, it wasn’t anything more than friends with benefits. He was your mentor, and occasionally you’d fuck on the side. But that was it. Whatever this ‘loyalty’ was, it wasn’t enough to warrant his treatment towards you.

You needed to hear him admit that what he said was wrong, and that like you suspected, he was just too lazy to give you a concrete answer over whether or not he cared about your life outside of him.

In a last ditch effort to calm the nerves that were intrusively firing off in opposition against what you were about to do, you took a deep breath before knocking on his door.

Dabi eventually greeted you, leaning against its frame with eyes trailing up and down your form. “Glad you came.”

He was wearing only a pair of black sweatpants, putting the scars adorning his arms and chest on full display. The metal staples glinted in the cold lighting emitting behind him, and you did your best not to stare at the entrancing sight.

Just get what you came here for. An apology. An explanation. The truth.

You offered a small side smile, looking past him into the dimly lit expanse of his home. “I did. Can we get this over with please?”

He gave pause for a moment, before pushing off the door frame, stepping to the side and gesturing with his hand for you to enter.

Unspoken, you stepped through the threshold, trying to maintain a distance between your bodies as you slipped past him. Now inside, you noted how much warmer it was than the frigid nighttime air. Dabi always ran a little hotter than most people―naturally. Only now you could really appreciate it for what it was worth, wondering if he even needed heating in the colder months of the year.

Your body tensed at the lowness of his voice behind you, catching you off guard. “Before I say anything...there’s something I wanna show you, if that’s alright.”

You turned to face the flame user, quirking a brow at his characteristically vague offer. “I guess that depends, what is it?”

Like the time you spent on the way here, a distant feeling of dread settled in the back of your mind. A somewhat playful smirk crept across Dabi’s face, lightly tugging at the staples keeping his skin together. “Well, if I told you then it would ruin the surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

...

You didn’t trust him.

But, that didn’t mean your emotional state could afford to deny him. You wanted to get what you came here for and then get the hell out. If that meant some momentary setback, then so be it.

You gave the scarred man an inquisitive scowl, before lightly shrugging your shoulders in compliance.

That’s all the confirmation Dabi needed, as he began stalking to the back of the living space without another word. And if his back wasn’t turned as you trailed behind him, you’d be able to see the small grin just barely ghosting his lips.

The door to his bedroom creaked open as he pushed against it, only a dim light from a lamp spewing out. Dabi stepped aside, “After you.”

Once again, you regarded him with a sceptical look. It wasn’t the first time he’d acted in such a way, the man being generally shrouded in mystery. Yet, as he waited patiently for you to see whatever he had prepared, those alarms in the back of your head felt deafening.

With a deep sigh, you carefully stepped into the bedroom. And as soon as you were past that threshold, you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was him. Tied to a chair, gagged and sporting a painful looking black eye―the man from two weeks ago. You almost forgot his face, like yourself a budding villain only seen in passing. But you were positive it was him, shaking, scared, and wide-eyed for the flame user behind you.

Somehow, Dabi managed to find the now unfortunate soul you slept with instead of him, and as the door to the bedroom shut, a click of a lock falling into place under a key, the weight of the situation crashed down upon.

Your quirk isn’t offensive, nor defensive. It’s support class, and entirely useless now.

With a turn of your head, you saw Dabi pocketing a small key, a devilish smirk plastered across his face. As for you, such emotions never came.

“What the hell is this? Why is he here?”

Without acknowledging your distressed questioning, Dabi walked past you and towards the man now struggling against the bindings. “You wouldn’t believe the mouth on this guy, doll.” A little too aggressively, Dabi rested his hands atop the man’s shoulders, instantly stilling him. “Told me all about the fun the two of you had.”

Your eyes rested on the coldness of his, that gaze lingering with a dangerous amusement.

“Dabi...what’s this about?”

In truth, your intuition had already led you to the likely conclusion of this ‘surprise’ of his. But the cruelty of it all, the unexpectedness, had you praying it would play out in any other way than you were predicting.

Dabi’s stare drifted, taking in your still unmoving form, regarding you up and down before those cerulean eyes landed on yours again.

It was almost a sneer, laughing slightly at your disbelief. “You really don’t know how badly you fucked up, do you?”

And just like that, you felt the blood drain from your face. It was never your place to decide what he was and wasn’t comfortable with, even if it went against your own boundaries. With the meaning of his words dawning on you, it was clear that his long held silence in the matter should’ve been enough to sway you against seeking others.

All that was left to do was reason with him, and hope you and the man tied down would make it out of this alive.

With a shaky breath, you forced the words out of your system. “We’re not exclusive. This is taking things way too far, and he doesn’t deserve to be roped into your shit.”

Dabi lightly drummed a finger against the man’s shoulder, head tilting at your claims. “Tell me, have I ever once said you could go around fucking other guys?”

You swallowed nervously, shifting uneasily under his focused glare. “...Well no, but―”

“Then what the fuck were you doing whoring yourself out to him, huh?”

The room was completely silent, save for the heavy breathing of the terrified man, and the sound of your hammering heart reverberating in your skull. You flinched at his words. It hurt, when Dabi knew very well that he was the only man you’d been with, aside from this one time fling, an issue that was being blown way out of proportion.

He continued before you could give an explanation, voice low, eyes narrowed and piercing. “I should just kill him right here and now for touching you. Bet the fucker would deserve it anyways.”

Honestly, you didn’t think the feeling of your heart dropping in your chest could feel any more intense. But it did, and the tears welling and threatening to spill down your cheeks could attest to it.

“...You don’t mean that.”

Dabi’s lips pulled into a sinister smile, putting tension on the staples adorning his face. You weren’t sure if it was the look he gave you, or the words that followed which frightened you more.

“Oh, you know that I do, sweets. But...since I’m so forgiving, I thought I’d let you earn his freedom instead.”

Not a sound was to be heard as you processed his words. An offer so vague, but dreadfully explicit at the same time.

Your voice was quiet, barely audible. “How?”

Somehow, that horrid grin grew wider. “You care about him, right? So...you should be willing to do whatever it takes to keep him alive.”

At this point your nails were digging painfully into the skin of your palms, being the only thing grounding your racing thoughts. Reluctantly, you responded. “What do you want from me?”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn he waited to reply for dramatic effect alone. He should know what he wants, otherwise nothing would be playing out so smoothly for him.

“Strip.”

Your gaze flitted to the still restrained man, looking just as appalled as you. Dabi looked everything but the sort though, still immensely enjoying the reactions you so honestly gave.

“I―I’m not doing that in front of the both of you.”

At your words, Dabi simply shrugged, an expression of casualness crossing his features. “Suit yourself.”

And just like that, his hand gripped the back of the man’s neck, and in the dim lighting of the room you could see a blue luminance come from his palm. There was an agonizing shriek, but it was muffled by the cloth gag still nestled firmly in the guy’s mouth.

Your body acted before you could think through the actions. “WAIT!”

Some of the distance between the three of you had been closed, you now at the foot of the bed where they were both facing. Dabi ceased his actions, seeming greatly pleased with your frantic and pleading state.

There was a pause, and his hand just barely pulled back.

“You know what to do.”

With your lower lip slightly quivering, you stayed motionless, inwardly praying he’d change his mind. But that change never came, and instead it was the familiar flame in the palm of his hand, mere centimeters away from skin.

“Alright! Alright…” With raised hands, you watched as Dabi went back to gripping the man’s shoulder. And so, with shaky movements, you fumbled with the fabric of your clothing. Your shirt was pulled up across your body, maybe even a little hurriedly.

Of course, Dabi would have none of your rushed intentions. “Ah-ahh. Nice and slow now, princess. Put on a good show for us.”

Not before regarding him with a hate filled glare, regrettably, you did as he said. Still facing them, you slowly peeled the rest of your clothing off of your body, article by article. The pile of discarded garments eventually laid abandoned at your feet, and in a feeble attempt to preserve your remaining dignity, you shielded your body with your hands as much as possible.

Dabi’s command came abruptly. Short and to the point. Those lack of words told you all you needed to know of the silent and seething anger inside of him.

“Get on the bed.”

Once again, you could only do as he harshly instructed, words spilling from his mouth with no hesitation. The mattress sunk under your weight, the wrinkled comforter pressing into your legs as you kneeled atop the blankets.

There was an amused snicker, “There we go. Now, touch yourself.”

You hated it. You hated Dabi. You hated yourself for not reading his silence properly.

But you spread your legs on the bed regardless, jaw clenched and heart racing.

Like a predator taking in the sight of its prey, Dabi’s eyes followed your hand as it moved south, one still being used to cover your breasts. You hesitated, and he was quick to comment. “Go on, a slut like yourself shouldn’t give a damn who’s watching, right?”

That’s not true. He doesn’t mean it.

Dabi knows he was your first, and the poor man roped into all of this was the only other person you’d been with. But Dabi was cruel, and his words were meant only to sting, whether or not they held true meaning.

There was no room to argue his point, so instead you screwed your eyes shut, and let your fingers slide down your body. To ease your own discomfort in the slightest, you gathered up some of your own arousal, running the pads of your fingers across your slit. You surprised yourself to even find a build up of wetness, the feeling only messing with your head.

You weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t.

You began rubbing tight circles into your clit, desperately trying to move things along. Honestly, you had zero clue how far Dabi was going to take things tonight. But wherever it was going, you wanted to reach the end as fast as you could.

Unconsciously, your hips moved in tandem with the pace of your fingers. A familiar heat began to build, and you could feel the coil in your abdomen start to tighten. You knew their eyes were on you, Dabi’s piercing stare not being one you wanted to meet.

But the thought of it, knowing he was studying your every move with intent, had you clenching around nothing. It was never lost on you how he treated you in normal circumstances―uncharacteristically observant to the way you reacted under his touch. Sometimes you thought he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. And so your mind wandered to those moments where he’d have you melting into a pool of bliss, hoping to ease your nerves from the less than private situation you were being subjected to. You let out an involuntary whimper, your fingers picking up the pace.

You were so close, the urgency of wanting to finish quickly having you coming undone faster than normal. Desperately, you ground yourself into your own hand, focusing on simply feeling.

...

“Stop.”

Your eyes shot open, confused and now painfully aware again of what was going on. There was nothing to say, so you simply regarded Dabi in anguish. He wasn’t going to make things easy on you.

He moved out from behind the man and towards you as he spoke, slowly sauntering with menacing steps. “Aw, don’t give me that look, sweets.” Dabi stopped at the foot of the bed, peering down at you with that cold stare.

“You’ve gotta make up for what you’ve done, remember?”

_____

You could feel the drool seeping out of your mouth, running down your chin and pooling onto the bed sheets beneath your head. Dabi’s grip was tight, a hand firmly latched onto your hair. Pulling you back and forth in quick motions, groaning as you sucked his cock at a steady rhythm.

He’d long abandoned patience, once letting you go at your own pace, now taking control in disappointment for your lack of motivation. Almost considerately, his thumb swiped a fallen tear wetting your cheek. It didn’t do much aside from smearing the build-up of moisture, only showing you that he didn’t really care.

Hoping to move things along, you ran your tongue along the underside of his length, pressing into a prominent vein before feeling the cold metal of a Jacob’s Ladder. Hollowing out your cheeks, you attempted to bob your head to take back some independence. Dabi hissed in response to your ministrations, having disregarded the man behind him for a short while.

The flame user let out a breathy huff above you, “Fuck...just like that.”

You flicked your tongue around the head of his cock, dragging it against the weeping slit as he kept you in one place for a moment. But not a second later he was forcing himself back down your throat, earning a pained whimper from you as you remained kneeled over, propped up by your elbows and trying to grip his thighs for some semblance of support.

The vibrations made Dabi hiss, unrelenting in his ways as he fucked your mouth. “Look at you, fuckin’ drooling all over yourself―dirty little bitch.”

The way he pressed so deep into you, hitting the back of your throat with each harsh thrust had you gagging around his length. That only seemed to spur him on, the grip on your hair tightening and his movements becoming more erratic. You could feel yourself growing lightheaded, unable to breath as you desperately tried to keep up with his brutal pace.

Dabi had gotten talkative again―always did when he was close to cumming. “Ah, f-fuck. So goddamn good, babydoll. Takin’ me s-so well.”

A hand pushed against his thigh, trying to pull yourself from him. He laughed at your feeble attempts. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it. N-not letting you off that easy…”

Black spots started to form in your vision, it taking everything you had not to anger the man relentlessly face-fucking you. Pained, you whimpered around his cock, and that must’ve been the final nail in his coffin.

Dabi let out a strangled groan, and you could feel the hot ropes of cum spilling down the back of your throat. Finally, he pulled you from his length, and you sputtered out in a fit of choking the second you could take a breath of air.

Exhaustedly, your body sank into the bed, a sedating lightheadedness clouding your mind as oxygen returned to your system. A certain muffledness enveloped your senses, being so drained from his actions. Your eyes were closed, so you didn’t see where he moved next.

Not until the bed dipped behind you, and a hand weaved its way into your hair once again did you realize what he was doing, and what he had planned next.

Dabi yanked your head towards, and you could feel his exposed and partly scarred torso pressing into your back as he leant down to speak into your ear. “I wasn’t fucking kidding when I said I’d fuck you in front of him.” He was laughing through the statement, clearly having much more fun with the situation than you were.

Yet, as much as you told yourself that you hated Dabi for what he was doing, as much as you repeated in your mind how you’d never come back to him again―his words still got to you. Unfaltering and honest, not a threat―but a promise. Knowing how good he always made you feel only had your headspace heading down a foggy path of conflicted acceptance.

Your head fell back onto the bed as he released his hold on your hair, opting to grip your hips with calloused hands instead. You let out a whine as a finger dipped between your folds, coming back to run across your slit.

“Fuck, dollface. Like a goddamn faucet back here―you enjoy bein’ watched like this?” Dabi punctuated his question with a harsh smack to your ass, the skin stinging under the impact and you lurching forward in surprise.

A high pitched yelp escaped your lips. “N-no! I―”

Another smack, this time on the opposite cheek. The sharp pain radiated through your backside, and you could’ve sworn the contact of his hand on your skin felt hotter than it should be.

Typical.

“Try again, cause this dripping pussy says otherwise.”

You balled up loose parts of the comforter in your fists, limbs shaking from his actions. “I’m n-not―”

It was much harder this time, his hand coming down causing a more strained wail to involuntary leave your body.

Dabi leaned down once again, “I’m not gonna move on ‘til you admit you wanna get fucked in front of this asshole.”

Another hit.

“Say it.”

You stayed silent.

Another hit.

“Beg for me to fuck you.”

Another hit.

You sobbed into the bedsheets, chest heaving with the exertion that the searing pain was causing you. Somewhere distant, you felt certain inhibitions and reservations leave your mind, bogged down by the suffocating presence of the man behind you. Your voice came out ragged, choked and cracking. “P-please, Dabi…”

His rugged palm collided with the reddened flesh on your ass again, no doubt to be sporting bruises by the morning. “Speak up, slut.”

A shaky breath was exhaled from your system. “Please, I―I want you to fuck me...”

There was a bout of silence, and you feared that the scorching pain would resume.

But it didn’t.

Dabi chuckled lowly. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

You gave a deep sigh of relief at his words. It baffled you how he could switch back and forth like that. One moment savagely aggressive, the next nonchalant and disregarding your pains and aches.

He didn’t disregard certain needs of yours however. Or his, for that matter.

A crease formed between your brows at the sensation of the tip of his cock slipping down and up your aching heat. A mewl left your parted lips when he pressed into your abandoned and needy clit. Unconsciously, you moved yourself against his length, coating it in your slick while trying to gain some much needed friction.

In the moment of countless intense sensations coming together all at once, it felt like you and Dabi were the only two people in the room.

You could feel the velvety tip pushing past your entrance, sliding in with ease with how much you were already dripping from being previously denied release. Dabi went surprisingly slow, letting you feel each and every inch of his length as it rubbed perfectly against your walls. The metal piercings that ran up the underside of his cock were a stark contrast to everything else you were feeling, but it was mouth-wateringly satisfying regardless.

Dabi let out a groan as he bottomed out, now not wasting a moment before he began thrusting in and out of your sopping core. The grip on your waist only grew tighter with each passing second. That, and as he was digging his blunt nails into the plush skin, the palms of his hands were also heating up. But as Dabi continued to relentlessly bury himself inside of you at a near brutal pace, the temperature never made it past something that would leave a mark. It stung, but the low burning was distant when the rest of his presence was so much more intense.

The always lingering smell of smoke and cigarettes invaded your senses, the haze over your mind growing thicker. It was sedating, emotionally subduing, coaxing you to drown in the entrancing state until all that mattered was Dabi.

You could feel your limbs growing weaker, legs shaking as a warmth developed inside of you. Your walls clamped down around his length, growing more and more sensitive with each thrust. Your orgasm was creeping up on you fast with the way his cock kept brushing up against that sensitive and spongy bundle of nerves.

Dabi groaned at the way you were sucking him in, catching on to how close you were to release. It only egged him on further, a hand detaching from your hip to push the side of your face into the mattress. “Fuckin’ do it, slut. Cum on my cock.” With a sharp thrust, the back of his thighs colliding with yours with each movement, you felt yourself beginning to come apart underneath him.

“Why don’t you show the fucker who makes you feel this good, huh?”

There was a moment of white hot bliss, and then the waves of your orgasm were crashing down upon you, your walls clenching around Dabi’s cock. You let out a silent scream, drool seeping into the fabric your head was being shoved into. He continued with his rough and skillfully well aimed thrusts as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it, good fucking girl…”

Your release sapped almost all of your remaining energy, but not everything. Dabi continued to ravage your worn out body. You whimpered at the overstimulation he was inflicting.

“I-I can’t, Dabi. It’s too...t-too much…”

He huffed in response, his thrusts growing erratic and faster. “Aw, you can’t handle it? Well...maybe you should’ve thought about that before pissing me off.”

In a pitiful attempt to relieve yourself from his ministrations, you tiredly pulled away from him, arms shaking and threatening to give out.

“The fuck do you thing you’re going, doll?”

Dabi dragged you back, snapping his hips against you hard. His back pressed into yours, and you shrieked when his teeth sunk into the skin of your shoulder blade. Not breaking it, but drawing dangerously close. His dick twitched inside of you at the strangled noises escaping your mouth, rutting into you without pause.

You could tell he was getting close, breathing heavy against your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle across your body. An arm snaked around your waist, you mewling as two fingers began rubbing tight circles against your clit.

Dabi continued leaving marks along your back, one arm bracing him beside your head while the other was tasked with rolling and pinching your sensitive nub in between his fingers.

That familiar heat began pooling once again, you not even being able to think straight as Dabi practically fucked you stupid.

You heard the flame user laugh slightly at your state. He couldn’t see your face with the way you were positioned, but if he could, he’d be met with your eyes glossed over, nearly rolling back in your skull with how well he was working you over.

The hand not circling your puffy clit wrapped around your throat. In one swift motion, Dabi pulled both of you up, your back leant against his, eyes shutting tightly closed as your head rested against his shoulder. He kept up the fast pace, his length pressing even deeper and in new places than it was before.

His breath hit the shell of your ear, a shiver running down your spine as the raspiness of Dabi’s voice permeated through the blissed out trance you were in. “Tell me, could he make you feel as good as I do?”

…

The question didn’t quite resonate with you.

You didn’t know who ‘he’ was.

But you were sure that nobody could please you like Dabi did.

“N-no…”

The pace of his fingers quickened, you barely able to stay upright as you gripped the wrist of the hand latched around your neck.

“That’s right, I’m all you’ll ever need.”

Dabi wasn’t asking for your agreement. It was a statement. As far as he was concerned, Dabi was the only one who could satisfy you. Nobody else could do what he did to you. Not now, not ever.

With a particularly sharp and well angled thrust, you came on his cock for the second time. A strew of moans spilled from your wetted lips, full body shudders wracking your system.

And like that, Dabi’s hips sputtered, his cum spilling out inside of you and painting your walls white. His fingers constricted around your throat harder for a few seconds, before releasing his hold completely.

You haphazardly slumped back down into the mattress, chest heaving in exhaustion. You barely registered the feeling of Dabi’s cock slipping from your abused cunt, cum dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the sheets.

...But you did register the force of your body being flipped over so that you were laying on your back.

Fighting against the heavy weight of your eyelids, you peered up at Dabi’s towering form. He was settled between your legs, spiked hair sticking to his forehead and eyes unmoving from yours. A look both satisfied, but aching for more.

“Don’t get all tired on me now. I’m not even close to being done with you.”

_____

Warm light spilled through the space of the room, the defined rays in the dark picking up particles slowly drifting about in the air. The curtains stayed closed, save for that small sliver letting such contrasting luminance in. It landed upon the blankets, your eyes following the ripples in the fabric while you came to.

It was comfortable, the heat of the sun, and of the room, wrapping around your mind and body. A sereneness to it all, unmoving and unworrying.

Until you shifted, and a dull aching throb brought you to your senses.

A glance to the foot of the bed. Eyes searching for evidence. The chair from the night before was nestled back into the corner of the bedroom, tucked neatly under a desk. You thought you were alone.

And as you rolled over onto your other side, the collision with another body proved otherwise. Still a little slow from the grip of sleep, and of the pains settling in your body, your head tilted up to observe the other occupant of the bed.

“Mornin’, doll.”

Blue eyes met yours. A small smirk adorning his face, yours remaining blank.

“...Where is he?”

A sigh escaped his lungs, the air hitting your skin. Dabi brought a hand up to your face, slowly, fingers ghosting your cheek. He paused, cupping your face lightly, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“I let him go.”

His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. If you weren’t mere centimeters apart from him, you’d miss the short confession completely.

Dabi’s gaze lingered, locked with yours. You flitted between both irises, searching. Answers unspoken, a truth untold. Something that he wasn’t telling you.

A static doubt flickered in the back of your mind. There was a challenge to be had in the way he regarded you. His words playing out in your own conscience.

Do you really believe that?

Breaking the stare, but not the tension that only you could feel, he pulled your body into his. Your head laid atop his chest, the smell of his cologne permeating, and unmistakably Dabi.

You felt the reverberations of his voice as he spoke, said with a breathy exhale. “Go back to sleep, ‘still early…”

A hand remained carding through your hair, motions slow and soothing. The other lightly squeezed your exposed hip, a gesture reassuring, but it didn’t completely feel as such.

There was no denying the tiredness your body felt. His touches, soft and affectionate, coaxing you to heed his words. Dabi knew how your body reacted to him. He was your first. Your only.

And you knew him too. You knew better than to not listen.

So you did.

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

Breakfast Blues. (Shigaraki x f!Reader, NSFWish)

Tomura could tell something was off as soon as he entered the kitchen. Your smile felt a little too forced, your eyes a little too hopeful as you plated a bowl of rice and eggs for him, hesitating for a moment to speak. It put him in a sour mood. He didn't like having to pry answers from you.

He usually managed to swipe his breakfast away and go back to his room for privacy, but you were making this increasingly difficult for him lately. It started with inane attempts to get him into conversations with you, which really was a stupid idea, given the fact that he never mustered more than a few grunts in the morning. His growling stomach initially helped fighting you off, but you seemed to have a backbone today.

Gripping the dishes in hand, you offered him a meek smile and asked, "Would you like to eat together?"

His eyes narrowed as he frowned. "Why?" his voice croaked out, scratchy and unpleasant from disuse.

"I just thought it would be nice. You're busy a lot, so ... "

"So?" Your confidence faltered under his scrutinizing stare. Something about your dying smile made him even more irritated, or perhaps confused. And he did not like feeling confused. "I'm hungry, woman."

Sensing his displeasure, you wordlessly handed over the breakfast and looked away. Under different circumstances, Tomura liked teasing you in this state. So secretive and cute, your lips set in a stubborn pout and your chin cast downwards for him to inevitably grip and force your attention back to him.

But he was so damn hungry and he had a game loaded on his computer for his return.

Tomura turned to leave, having decided he waited enough for your comeback. It was only the glaring absence of your shuffling feet and the tinkering of cookware that made him pause for a split second at the threshold. Just a quick glance to satiate his curiosity.

You stood exactly where he left you, still looking away, hands wringing together without anything else to hold. Defeated and hurt. The sting of negative emotions welled up inside him so suddenly that he immediately took off, wishing he had a free hand to scratch his neck.

-

No amount of homecooked breakfast or countless wins could erase his lingering discontent. Tomura tried to ignore that strange encounter with you, burying his thoughts in strategies and shit-talking as he let the time slip away. But try as he might, he just couldn't shake it off. Throwing aside his game console, Tomura leered at the clock and slumped in his chair, annoyed at the realization that you hadn't visited him this whole time.

You were nowhere to be found in the apartment. A cursory glance at his phone showed him a single text from you. I'm going out with Toga. Be back later.

You didn't even send him a heart emoji.

It was a stupid thing to set him off. Everything about today was stupid. You were stupid, he was stupid, his damn neediness was stupid, even the breakfast bowls he brought to the sink were stupid. What kind of world was this, where he, Shigaraki Tomura, successor of Japan's most dangerous criminal, brought his dishes to the kitchen and moped about a goddamn heart emoji.

He needed a drink.

-

It was a testament to his bad mood that Tomura chose to walk all the way to the bar instead of asking Kurogiri to warp him there. His eyes scanned the streets in a vain attempt to track you down among the crowd, but you were nowhere to be found and he was growing anxious by the minute.

Tomura kicked the door open and hopped the counter to pilfer the expensive liquor stash. His taste gravitated towards the most expensive rum in the collection. He could certainly chase his sorrows away with cheap swill or rubbing alcohol, but if he was going to torture his body tonight, then he would do so with style. It was all worthless in the end, anyway.

He sat by himself for who knows how long. It was utterly pathetic and he knew he had better things to do, yet every time he tried to pull himself away from the counter, his head spun uncomfortably and the amber liquid beckoned him towards a numbing buzz. His phone lay abandoned on the counter, having been checked several times for a text or a phone call from you.

You hadn't even called to find out where he was. He had half a mind to wonder if you would walk through the door to surprise him, but there were only so many times he could glance at the door before the urge to disintegrate it took hold. He grabbed the rum bottle instead, messily pouring more liquor into his glass as he ignored the distortion of the air in front of him. He was in no state of mind to stare straight into Kurogiri's spinning portal. The very thought of it made him slam the bottle down and hold onto it for dear life to compose himself.

Kurogiri appeared behind the bar, quietly assessing the state of his charge. He pulled out a rag to mop up spilled liquor and eyed Tomura's heavy movements as he let go of the rum and took the glass in a white-knuckled grip.

"You are alone."

Tomura grunted, taking a swig to avoid conversation. His guardian was smart enough to immediately pick up his mood. It was both annoying and reassuring to see those golden eyes narrow in astute observation.

"It is rare for your lover to be absent."

"..."

A moment of silence. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but you seem to be more upset than usual."

Tomura snorted. "Yeah, no shit." He stared at the rum glass in frustration, glaring at the alcohol as though it had personally offended him. His fingertips curled around the rim as he lifted the glass and swirled the liquid around, irate at the stretching silence. It was bad enough he had to deal with your petulant absence. Now he had to endure Kurogiri's calm patience, too.

His fingers gripped the glass tighter as he contemplated satisfying his urge to decay, to give him some form of release from the frustration currently plaguing him. The blaring noise of his video games would be a welcome respite from this silence. Instead, he was forced to nurse a headache while Kurogiri made him feel like a child.

All because of you. You had a hold on him even when you were gone. Perhaps even more poignant because you were gone.

"It's fucking dumb," Tomura grumbled. And it was. The situation was so unbelievably ridiculous that he clammed up again, unable to voice his problems lest he fly into a rage over the mental image of your sorrowful eyes and quivering bottom lip.

"What happened?"

"I don't even know. She's been acting weird the past week and it all blew over this morning." His leg jittered restlessly against the footrest. He crossed his leg over his thigh to regain some semblance of control, letting out a sharp sigh as he scratched his neck. "I just wanted some damn breakfast. That's all. And that woman stood there looking like I broke up with her just because I didn't want to eat with her."

"Were you doing something important?"

Oh, he did not like that question. He did not like it one bit.

"I was in the middle of gaming," Tomura growled through clenched teeth. "Don't even try to bitch at me about it."

"That was not my intention. I know how important your lifestyle is to you." Tomura stared at him, feeling his anger somehow slip through the cracks and fizzle away. Kurogiri took the whiskey bottle beside him and poured more into the emptying glass. "Has this happened before?"

"No. Sometimes she tried to keep me there longer with dumb small-talk, but she's never flat out asked. And the damn look on her face when I - " Tomura cut himself off with a frustrated growl. Your defeated expression haunted him once more. He downed the liquor in one go and reveled in the horrible burn tearing his throat apart. "What the hell does she want from me?" he forced out, staring hard into the distance as a sudden sense of shame stabbed him like a knife.

"If I may speculate ... " Kurogiri paused, waiting for his rebuke. When none came, an answer followed. "You are often preoccupied throughout the day. Perhaps she simply misses you and craves your attention."

Tomura opened his mouth and promptly closed it. A bout of dizziness hit him. Was it the alcohol or the crashing realization of how obvious the answer had been?

The logic of Kurogiri's statement was so absurdly simple that it had to be true. Because you really were just so simple. Uncomplicated in your motives, always wearing your heart on your sleeve, and always so flagrantly loving and patient with him. Tomura looked away from Kurogiri, hating how well his guardian knew not only him, but you, too.

A little flame of happiness kindled deep inside him, threatening to chase away the darkness of his bitter emotions. You hadn't been difficult on purpose this morning. You just wanted to spend time with him.

His bleary gaze settled on the monitor resting at the other end of the bar. How would his mentor react to this situation?

The silence coming from the monitor felt altogether different from what he experienced so far. It was uncomfortable and imposing, filling his ears with white noise and clouding his thoughts. Tomura stared at his reflection in the black screen and frowned, hyper-aware of the way his eyes had softened while he thought about you, the way he looked so boyish and tired.

Look at what she is turning you into, the screen seemed to say.

"Shigaraki Tomura." He tore his gaze away from his reflection and met Kurogiri's expressionless face. "Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?"

His brows furrowed in thought.

-

Tomura made up with you in the most typical fashion. That is to say, he cornered you at home and snuffed out any further talk by devouring your lips with incessant kisses, taking you right on the living room couch and stalking after you to your bedroom for more. It was a love language he knew best, letting you feel his feverish desire with every deep thrust, the firm iron grip of his hands on your soft hips and thighs, his groans and whispered demands for more of you, more of your tight heat and your gentle fingers outlining his scars, touching his rough lips, nails digging into his back as you mewl for more of him.

You were hellfire. There was no liquor strong enough in the world to burn him half as much as his need to tell you he loved you. The words clawed and tore at his chest, inflamed his throat until he choked on them, forcing him to spit out twisted versions of the truth. Cowardly, pathetic half-truths about how you belonged to him, how you were his and his alone.

And you still smiled at him for it. You took all that he gave you and asked for so little in return.

Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?

The question plagued him throughout the night as your arms held him close, his head pillowed on your chest while he listened to your soft breathing and felt the beat of your heart whispering an answer he could not decipher.

-

Tomura awoke to your absence. It was not a rare occurrence. The split-second paranoia washing over him was not rare, either. He ran from that feeling many times before, immediately sick at the thought of how lonely he felt without you. It was pathetic. He should not feel this way about anyone. He should feel empty, as though you were just a moment of entertainment, an experience to be had and a level to beat in the game of life.

But you were well past that point now. Whether or not he could say it aloud, Tomura was in love. So if you wanted to have breakfast together, then you had better prepare yourself for his morning attitude.

He caught you a little early this time. You were in the middle of stirring an omelette when he crept up behind you, jolting in surprise as he pressed himself to your back and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Good morning," you greeted him, giving him a peck on the cheek. A light smile played on your lips. "I'm almost done."

Tomura purred a noncommittal response and curled his fingers around your jaw, angling your head back to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss. Your pleased sigh broke off into a stilted noise as he dipped his tongue inside and made sure you felt every slow lick and suck to your lips. His arm tightened in response to you melting against him, mentally debating whether he should let you finish cooking or to find the nearest surface to defile.

A sizzling pop from the frying pan caught your attention. You kissed him hard and returned to your duty, using your spatula to roll the omelette into shape. Your tongue peaked out from your reddened lips as you made a face of mild disgust. "You didn't brush, nasty."

"Didn't stop you though," Tomura countered, grinning at your wry expression.

You spooned the cooked food onto a nearby plate and cracked another egg into the pan. He waited for your invitation, good mood dampening by the second as you settled into your routine without another word. It was an expected reaction, to be fair. He hurt you yesterday and now he was paying for it.

Your questioning glance put him on alert. "Do you need something else?"

He wracked his brain for a response. Something that could keep him here longer without raising further suspicion. "Orange juice."

"It's in the fridge. Can you pour me some, too?"

Tomura forced himself to detach from you, taking his time to complete the task as he watched your progress from the corner of his eye. Cups placed on the table. Orange juice poured at a strategically slow rate. By the time he finished, your breakfast had been plated and you left it unattended to hurriedly put the forgotten box of eggs back into the fridge. Tomura used this distraction to take both plates to the table, setting yours across from him as he plopped down onto the chair and began to eat.

You caught on as soon as the fridge door closed. Tomura could feel your stare on him while he downed the orange juice. He glanced at you nonchalantly, eyebrow raised as though you were the one behaving abnormally.

"You're joining me?" you asked, a hint of hope coloring your voice as you sat down.

"Clearly."

You smiled so sweetly that he felt his heart stammer and restart. "Wow. Can I get you to eat some fruits while we're at it?"

"Don't push your luck," he grumbled, and that was the end of that.

Tomura silently listened to your happy chatter and the clanging of silverware on plates, wondering how the hell he found himself in domestic bliss. Sunlight streamed through the nearby window and illuminated your entire being, heightening your inner glow. You looked beautiful and peaceful. It calmed him far more than you could ever know.

Did he feel weak as he basked in your attention? Did he feel weak, knowing that you wanted him beside you even for the most mundane things?

The answer was undeniable.

He felt strong.

Different from the power trip he thrived on when he succeeded in yet another level.

Different from the sadistic glee he felt when the nomu followed his command.

Different from the sense of duty plaguing his mind when his teammates looked to him for direction.

This inner sense of peace steadied his mind and cleared his thoughts. How could it be weakness when he would tear the world apart for you?

The soft tap of your foot on his knee drew his attention to you. "This was nice," you softly said. "Next time I'll leave a trail of takoyaki outside your room so you can join me for lunch."

He huffed a dry laugh. "Make me botamochis and you got yourself a deal."

"You'll eat sweets made from red beans but not a single fruit ... " You innocently popped another strawberry into your mouth. "Not even these strawberries ... "

"Get over here and give me a taste then," he growled, settling back in his chair with a clear invitation of his own.

You accepted without delay.

[savnofilter]

Kinktober Day 3

b. katsuki

☠️ warning(s): 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘, blowjobs, slight exhibition, con-dubcon.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 1.6k words [6 minutes, 30 seconds].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary)

☠️ summary: you insisted that he had a formal detox after a long and busy day of hero work, instead youll have to take care of him while hes invested in a video game with his friends.

“Woman -- get your hands off of me!” Katsuki growled feeling your hands move from sensually massaging his shoulders, the intimate but soft-action making him relax only to tense up from being diligently focused on his task in front of him.

You pout as he rejects your bouts of affection, hands moving to his slide down his front. You move to kiss his neck, the sound of your lips reaching his headphone’s mic, and his friend’s start to question him, quickly turning it off to avoid any further suspicions. “Katsuki, you haven’t paid attention to me at all since you’ve come home. You’ve been at work all day, don’t you want distress?” You mumble against his ear, pulling and circling the couch to lay your head in his lap and cuddle up to him.

“Of course I do! Those dumbasses wanted me to join the damn party...” He curtly explains, getting comfortable as he gets adjusted to your head being in his lap, hips slouching down, and allowing you more room. You hummed happily as his clothes smelled fresh, the faint scent of his after-work shower hitting your nostrils and stirring the familiar arousal in you. You could hear him talking into the mic again, peering up at him to watch him get immersed in the game once again. You sighed as you watched him go, deciding to just observe the scene instead… until an idea came to your head.

You moved to nuzzle his cock against his pants, him tensing up at the feeling of your face against his half-erect cock. Bakugo snapped his gaze to look down at you for a second, not being to cut his mic off since it had to do with the game itself. You could read him and you grinned, continuing further with your plans. You moved onto your stomach, your hands moving to grip his already hard member. You licked your lips as you could tell he was thinking about what you had offered before. After teasing him a bit, your hands moved to drag his pants down, his hips moving some to allow you the space to do so and letting it down enough so his cock could spring out. He wasn’t exactly aroused enough to be spring on a hard one, but it was getting there. You carefully started to stroke his pp, stopping at the top to softly rub at his sensitive tip.

You could see his Adam’s apple bump at the feeling, his nose flaring in anticipation at your next actions. His eyes signaled you to hurry up, his hips bucking into your hand to speed it up. You pout as you’re not able to tease him, the building feeling to suck him off overriding your ability to hold back. Your handheld his cock up and licked the side of it, humming at the taste of his skin and making him slightly tense up.

He whispers a shut up to you, knowing that the sound from your mouth could have reached the mic and almost blown his cover -- pretty ironic, right? His hand comes down to push you to take his cock, the motion forcing you to take his cock without restraint. You quietly whimpered as his member filled your mouth, trying not to make too much noise as he let you do what you want. Katsuki was somewhat skilled in playing with his console, being able to use one hand while the other concentrated on you. He didn’t even have to look at you to push your head down and force more of him down your throat, the tight squeeze of it almost prompting him to moan out at the sensation around his tip. It took you having to assume the proper pace for him to finally let you move for yourself. His hand that used to push your head down teasingly running down your body to tease you, catching your small glimpse up at him with his cock full in your mouth. He felt blessed enough you were wearing his shirt only, cursing under his breath when he tugs the fabric up to reveal that you had not one trace of underwear underneath.

“You alright, Bakubro? Did you face some trouble on your end?” Kirishima asks innocently, the strain in his voice indicating that he was in his predicament himself in the game.

“Y-Yeah, a whole gang of them.”

“Shoot your location and I’ll come to save you, Kacchan!”

“I thought I told you to quit calling me that, Pikachu!” Katsuki growls at the nickname, giving his location on the team’s map anyways. His rough hand grabbed one of your cheeks, trying hard not to deliver a sharp strike against your cheek and feel the heat of your skin under it. He took no more prodding and groping before moving his touches down to finally between your legs.

You didn’t pay attention to whatever he and his friends discussed, only clear on feeling up your husband. You hummed happily at the feeling, lifting your head and left hand holding his cock up as you start to lick it up and down while your right-hand plays with his balls. Your back arched so it was easier for Katsuki to slip his fingers within you, the tips of his fingers teasing your entrance sinking them into your hot core. You had to suckle against the side of his cock to keep yourself from blowing his cover, gaze fluttering up to look at him as you worked. His fingers curled inside of you, his digits wiggling to find your g-spot and smirking against the mic of his headset.

“I found it, taking it back to base,” Bakugo says proudly, his fingers stroking the spot to tease you even further. Your legs spread as much as they could on the couch, your jaw-dropping as he thrusts his fingers into you. You moved your mouth to suck on his length properly again, brows furrowing in concentration to keep yourself from making him embarrassed.

His cock twitched in your mouth as you arched your back to feel his fingers deeper within you, the tight squeeze of your walls urging him in. Katsuki pulls out abruptly to watch the slick on his hands, observing it before gesturing you to get up. Your lips reluctantly leave from sucking his length, panting softly in wanton desire for him. He holds up his cock up and slaps it against your face, giving you the bright idea of what he was gesturing too.

You happily hop into his lap and get settled, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your opening and sitting on it. You moan as his cock bottoms out inside him, his face highlighting a deep pink at it. He quickly shoves the three fingers that were used to fuck you, making you choke on it.

“Um, Bakugo-”

“Shut up.” He cuts Kaminari off shortly, his fingers purposely prodding at the back of your throat and appreciating your loving but needy gaze pleading for him to give his undivided attention. His hand that held the controller quickly came up to mute his headset quickly, quickly tossing both pieces of equipment to change positions and press you into the couch. “You’re so fucking needy.” He presses his face into your neck as he grips your thighs, pressing them to your body as he rocks into you. “All over me, interrupting my game, you’re my little bitch aren’t~?” He taunts into your ear-biting onto your lobe and sucking on it.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you both grew close. His hips didn’t stop for a moment as he chased his release as well, the feeling between you both reaching for your orgasms almost like his game. You held no warning towards him as you tensed up and came on his length, his pleasure reaching yours as well. His hips stuttered against yours as he tried holding out to no avail. He let you finish on his throbbing cock, pulling out so he could cum on your quivering cunt and exposed stomach. He grunted in release watching as his cum coats your skin, watching your messy cunt.

“Y-Yes, Katsuki~!” You throw your head back against the couch’s cushion, your thighs relaxing into his hold to let him do as he pleases. He spread your legs wide to allow ample room for him to thrust into you, his ruts satiating your needs with each rock. Your hands circled his shoulders and held him close to you, his mouth on your skin making you whine out for him. “Fuck I missed you so much~” You closed your eyes in bliss once he positions his hips at a different angle, the change of it making it Katsuki’s cock rub against the same spot before that always makes you shiver.

The light sound of his teammates yelling from his headset reaches your eyes, Your hands tremble in need, your grip getting weak as you can’t help but cling onto him, your breath getting light. His skin slapped against yours happily, the sopping sound of your pussy taking in his raging hard cock doing nothing but up the hot tension in the room. He huffs at your desperation, his lips moving to give your neck a chaste kiss before biting at the spot and sucking to give you a new mark. He repeated his process to other spots the v-neck offered, groaning against your skin and rocking his hips faster into you.

He rubs his glistening length against your cunt, using the mixture of both your jizzes as a lubricant. His eyes trail up to you and grin mischievously as he rams into you without warning, your walls welcoming him regardless.

“You wanted my undivided attention? You’ve got it.”

[ibelongtowrath]

Amor Librorum - Obey Me! Satan x Reader

Satan's in heat, and you just had to wear that short little skirt, didn't you? A/N: This was a request for a Satan in heat story! My first work since my hiatus, and I hope I did it justice. I kinda went hard with Dom Satan, so please enjoy. Pairing: Satan x Fem!Reader Word Count: ~6.6k Tags/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fisting, oral sex, degradation, breeding, rough sex, double penetration, tail sex, dirty talk, dominance, choking. NSFW under the cut!

The peaceful quiet of the library is disturbed by a loud groan of frustration, not at all surprised to find the sound originating from yourself. Your eyes open, unable to focus as you stare aimlessly at the pile of papers before you. Haphazardly-written notes cover the pages of your notebooks, some even squished into the margins, tiny doodles of demon horns and rainbows sprinkled throughout in an effort to satiate your never-ending boredom in class. God, Devildom classes are relentless, filled with endless information and not a lot of stimulation. A deep sigh falls from your lips. Rubbing your temples, you lean back in your chair, eyes closing once more.

“MC, is there anything I can help you with?”

The familiar voice startles you and you start, a small gasp escaping you as your eyes fly open. A few moments later, you finally notice Satan sitting close to the fireplace, book in hand as usual as your face heats up. 

Satan, so goddamn handsome; the one you’ve had your eye on for a while, but were always too intimidated to approach.

“Satan! I-I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer in embarrassment, finally beginning to collect yourself and steady your breathing.

Satan’s jade-green gaze studies yours momentarily, brows knit together before his face relaxes. A gentle smile paints his face, and he chuckles, shaking his head. His blond locks fall forward into his face, reaching a hand up to brush them back.

“I have been in here for nearly thirty minutes now,” he says. “You were so focused on your work, I didn’t have the heart to disturb you. Though now, you look a bit...frazzled, so to speak.”

“You can say that again,” you agree, making a face at your messy notes.

It wasn’t that the material exceeded your capabilities; in fact, quite the opposite. You pored endlessly over your work daily since you had arrived not too long ago, paying attention in class and asking questions, with the occasional doodle finding its way onto your notes just to break up the monotony. Your dedication to success was something the brothers, and Diavolo, admired greatly about you. 

It of course caught the attention of the Avatar of Wrath himself, even more so than his brothers. He respected you greatly, your wit and intelligence closely rivaling even his own. He felt an affinity towards you, despite your newness to the Devildom.

Feeling the intensity of his gaze, you look awkwardly down at yourself as your hand reaches to tug at the hem of your skirt, a little too short for your taste. Asmo had insisted on it, claiming R.A.D. needed a bit more excitement. Yeah, excitement for him, maybe. 

Satan’s eyes quickly move to your thighs on the chair, eyeing the way you play with your skirt. A low sound rumbles in his chest at the sight, and he grits his teeth, willing himself under control. It was that time, the few days during each Devildom moon cycle where demons felt their desire to breed skyrocket, nearly going feral to satiate the hunger deep within. The heat period.

He had grown skilled in suppressing the urge, thousands upon thousands of cycles having passed in his lifetime. That isn’t to say he never gave in to it; even he had his moments where he couldn’t ignore the need to feel release, either relieving himself with his own doing, or with the occasional acquaintance made when Asmo had dragged him to one of his opulent parties. More often than not, Satan had simply resisted the pressing need, throwing himself deep into his studies instead. 

That is, until  you  came along. You had piqued his interest, and he fully intended on studying you in his own way, eager to learn. Now you were here, in the place he went to when he was trying to escape his natural urges, wearing that short skirt of yours. That fucking skirt, tempting him like no other, and you have no clue.

Oh, the places his mind went when thoughts of you intruded were certainly risqué as is, nearly every day. He wanted nothing more than to indulge in you, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss, exploring each other’s bodies as lovers do. But right now, in the midst of his heat? He’ll throw caution to the wind, risk it all to push you down onto the nearest surface, a hand slipping between your legs. To hear your needy cries for him to fill you with the seed of his sin, each wet thrust laced with lust and desire...

“Well, thank you,” you say after a few quiet moments, oblivious to the demon’s internal struggle across the room. “I don’t think I need anything, at least not yet.”

Your words break Satan’s trance slightly as he nods, eyes moving back up to meet yours.

“Do let me know, in any case.”

“Of course.”

Sighing once more, your gaze returns to the mass of papers and notebooks before you, reaching for your Devildom History binder. Flipping it open to the period right after the Celestial War, each time period labelled painstakingly carefully, you begin to read over highlights of important events.

“MC!”

Satan’s voice calls out to you again from across the room and your eyes flit up to look up at him.

“Yeah?” you ask, wondering what he wants to tell you.

“I am glad you’re in here, and not around my brothers,” Satan says slowly. “I would stay away from them as much as you can over the next several days. They…are not always capable of exercising as much control as I am.”

“Ah.” The heavy implication behind his words is not lost on you, and you nod in understanding. 

You had been in the Devildom for a few months now, and demon heat cycles had already passed. For a brief moment, you wonder why Satan is choosing to warn you now, but decide not to question it, instead choosing to be grateful for his looking out for you.

“Of course. Thank you, Satan.”

The demon watches as you return to your notes before turning to his book before him, settling back in his chair. The heat from the fireplace, coupled with the smell of wood burning, wafts towards him in gentle waves. He feels the tension melt away from his shoulders, relaxing into the comfort of his book; his serenity. Or so he thought.

Satan looks at the words inked onto the page before him, flipping to the next, then the next;  seeing  the words but not actually reading them. The carefully-typed words seem to bleed together as his vision blurs, surreptitiously lifting his head gaze once more at your bare thighs pressed together on the chair. He pictures standing before you, pressing his own knee between them, spreading your legs apart and-

No. Suppress the urge, he tells himself, just like he’s done for millennia. So why is it so fucking hard this time?  His attention turns back to his book, willing himself to exercise the great control over his instinctive urges he had just told you he possessed, only moments ago.

Blissfully unaware, you continue to pore over your notes. God, I don’t even remember writing this much. Several moments pass as you double-check what the exam is going to cover, scribbled into the customized R.A.D. planner Lucifer had so graciously gifted to you upon your arrival in the Devildom. Returning to your notes, you flip ahead several pages, running your finger down the margins as you go, making sure everything in your notes coincides with the necessary topics.

“Huh…”

Your finger stops at a section with uncompleted notes, brows furrowing together in worry. Fuck. You had skipped out on classes that day with bad cramps, telling yourself you’d get the notes from Satan at a later date before the exam, knowing he’d be the only one who would have notes as thorough as your own.

Well, I can’t exactly ask him now. Pride and slight embarrassment get in the way of need. Pursing your lips together and exhaling loudly through your nose, you scoot the chair back and stand slowly. The hem of your skirt flares as you rise and turn towards the seemingly infinite expanse of books behind you. Your hand reaches instinctively to tug it down, willing it to suddenly grow longer to at least mid-thigh. Maybe I should concoct a spell for that: clothes that get shorter or longer at will.

Satan looks up and studies you carefully as you walk over to the historical section of the library, noting the contemplative look on your face. He chuckles at the serious look on your face, wondering if he should call out to you and ask if you need any help picking out a book. Instead, deciding it would be more feasible to show you, he sets his book down onto the table by the fireplace. His mouth opens, about to guide you towards the more recently-published Devildom history books when the sight of you before him slams his jaw shut.

Just several feet away, your body is bent over as you attempt to read the spine of a book near the bottom shelf of the bookcase, another tome already in hand, panties completely exposed. Suddenly, the rush of cool air on your backside as your skirt rides up elicits a small yelp from your lips, dropping the book to the floor as you hurriedly reach back to pull the skirt down. The fabric won’t move any further down, clearly not meant for coverage when your body bends. You straighten quickly, feeling your face practically ignite in embarrassment.

I'm going to kill Asmo! you think to yourself, quickly and carefully squatting to pick up the book you had carelessly dropped in your haste. Thank God Satan has his nose buried in a book and didn’t see …

The low rumble from deep in Satan’s chest as he growls hungrily tells you otherwise. Restraint,  the sweet restraint  that he had been so carefully cultivating since you arrived in the Devildom disappears almost instantaneously.

“You little fucking tease,” he growls, teeth bared.

Satan smirks, a predatory look etched into his handsome features as he saunters toward you. His jewel-toned gaze rakes your body up and down, the image of you bent over, panties barely covering your backside burnt into his mind like a brand. You feel your body instinctively tense, watching the way he moves; a wolf that stalks agonizingly slow over to his next meal, knowing the animal doesn’t stand a chance. A slight shiver courses down what feels like each vertebra of your spine, goosebumps cascading across your arms and bare legs in anticipation. You don’t feel scared, no - you’re turned on by the way he’s looking at you, the most indulgent treat ready to be devoured, and he knows it .

Satan’s smirk grows wider, almost turning into a sadistic grin as he nears you at last. His fingers slide gently under your chin to lift your face towards his, his beautiful green eyes even more mesmerizing in the proximity. They look like shimmering pools of tropical water, enticing you to jump in, and you want nothing more than to drown in them; but the blazing, carnivorous look hardens them, their majestic beauty mismatched with the sentiments currently behind them.

“Such a tease you are, little pet,” the Avatar of Wrath murmurs, his gaze never faltering from yours. “I only just warned you that it is the demon heat cycle, yet here you are, bent over in that short fucking skirt like a slut begging to be bred like she deserves.”

Satan speaks so calmly, in complete contradiction with the wanton desires carved into every cell in his body. Oh, he wants nothing more than to rip each and every flimsy piece of fabric off your pliant little body, cock twitching beneath the constricting fabric of his pants, but that will have to wait. Yes, he will wait until your arousal drips onto your thighs in the anticipation, keening for him, your voice laced with desperation as you plead with him to fuck you. After all, he is nothing if not a patient demon, and what fun is it to pounce on your prey without playing with your food a bit first?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, instinctively continuing to tug down your skirt.

“Sorry? My dear, I am an intelligent demon,” he retorts. “Do you really think of me so unwise, so blind to my instinctual desires that I wouldn’t doubt your sincerity?”

Satan shrugs the green jacket off his shoulders, placing it neatly onto the back of a nearby chair. He takes a few more steps in your direction and leans forward, his lips now mere inches from yours.

“I can practically smell the desire rolling off your tight little body in waves right now, darling. I can see it in your eyes just how badly you want me.”

Satan’s thumb caresses your lip as his mouth moves to your ear, warm breath caressing your skin and smirking once more, watching the way you shiver, the sensation trickling slowly down your spine, nearly shaking in anticipation. You breathe in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin pressed to yours: the slight musk of old books, and sweeter notes of vanilla and cinnamon lingering on top. Your tongue wets your lips, eager to taste him on yours. 

“Now, now, Kitten,” he purrs, amused by your evident arousal. “Are you so willing, so eager for me to wreck you that you’re turned on merely by a few small gestures? Naughty thing…”

A familiar need washes over you, very nearly as strong as his, despite your humanity. Without realizing, a whine spills from your lips in the wake of another shiver; every fiber of your being  ache s for him, calls out to him to satiate the hunger. The visceral urge to feel him between your legs, sighing in satisfaction in the deliciously slow stretch of your warmth as he eases into you… If you were capable, you’re sure you would be growling as well.

Satan nibbles lightly on the lobe of your ear before his lips find your neck, placing soft, slow, sensual kisses on the underside of your jaw as he makes his way towards your exposed clavicle underneath the unbuttoned shirt of your R.A.D. uniform. You mewl, squeezing your thighs together, the action eliciting the wetness between your legs. Electricity pulses through you in every rhythmic beat of your heart, dampening your panties with each thump, thump, thump in your chest.

The demon laughs softly against you, delighting in your body’s response to him. His mouth moves to the delicate skin above your collarbone, where he nips and sucks it into his mouth, intent on leaving his mark on you. Each press of his lips on your skin leaves a trail of fire burning across, blazing a path in the form of reddish-purple welts imprinted into your skin.  Fuck . You hadn’t anticipated it feeling this good, hands reaching to entangle your fingers in his thick blonde hair, pulling him closer to you. 

You are his.

“Oh, naughty, naughty thing. Here I am, having barely done a thing, and yet…”

His words taper off as he runs his free hand down the curves of your body until it rests just above mid-thigh. Inadvertently, you tighten. The spark of arousal quickly turns into a star shower between your hips, each and every sensitive nerve-ending on high alert, every cell desperate to be touched, to be  felt .

“...you’re practically begging for me. Just what exactly have you been picturing me doing to you in that pretty little mind of yours, hm? Perhaps…”

Satan’s hand trails to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You shudder, a tiny moan escaping your lips as he continues to run his thumb across. Achingly slowly, his hand finally reaches between your legs, and he rubs the flimsy, now-soaked fabric of your panties against your heat, adding slight friction to your clit.

“... something like this?”

Your head drops back slightly as you moan, and his cock twitches again; the demon is almost painfully hard beneath his pants, but he’s not done playing with you just yet. No, despite his strong urges, he will be patient. After all, he’s waited thousands of years for a moment just like this. It’s in his nature to toy with you, to elicit those sweet, sweet sounds of anticipation and pleasure from your lips, knowing you’re so far gone to his charms.

“My, my, kitten,” Satan murmurs. “For someone who wasn’t actively trying to get my attention like you say, you are quite wet for me. Are you, perhaps, enjoying yourself?”

Without giving time for a response, he slides a finger under your panties, teasing it against your swollen clit as his lips crash against yours. His tongue presses against your lips, begging entrance; you grant it to him, letting your tongues explore each other's mouths. Moaning into him, you lift a leg to hook around his waist, causing Satan to break off the kiss; a low-pitched growl rumbling loudly from deep within his chest.

“I want you, kitten, I cannot deny that,” he husks. “But when you do things like that, well-”

Satan whirls you around to the table behind you, pushing you down onto it. A knee moves to your thighs, pressing into them to spread you apart ever-so-slightly. His finger hooks under the waistband of your panties, and, with a single tug, rips them off with a loud tear echoing throughout the peaceful calm of the library. Discarding them onto the floor haphazardly, a feral grin twists his handsome face.

“-you make it awfully hard to be sweet with you. Then again, I’m sure you love it rough, don’t you, my dirty little kitten?”

“F-fuck… yes…,” you whimper.

“Well, we’ll have to put that to the test in just a bit. But for now… open yourself to me.”

The carnal desire twists darkly through Satan’s veins as he watches you spread your legs, your dripping pussy on full display. He growls again, louder, hungrier at the sight of you quivering before him, your body begging for his cock without having to say a single word from those pretty lips of yours. Kneeling before you, his green nails find purchase on the soft skin of your inner thighs, digging in slightly. His lips part as his tongue moves, licking a few stripes up your sex. Soft moans against your skin sound from within him as he laps at your essence, pulling away after a few moments.

Satan looks at you then, listens to your needy whimper, fingers curling into the carved wood of the table, an uncontrollable urge to lift you up, slam you against the bookcase and fuck you into it overwhelmingly strong. Eyes glazed over with lust, a blissful, almost  mindless  look on your face; need and arousal woven into every delicate feature. Blood surges deep through his vein, heart working double time in the visceral urge he feels to make you his - and he will.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, kitten,” the Avatar of Wrath purrs, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your thighs. “I’m going to make you feel so good with just my mouth and my fingers, and you’re going to ask for my permission before you cum all over this table. Then, I’m going to bend you over and make you beg for my cock to stretch your needy little pussy out like the desperate slut you are. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes, yes, please …” you whimper. “Please, Satan.”

"Already begging for me, hm? That’s a good girl. That’s a very good girl.”

Satan moves his face back to your core, resuming his ministrations, alternating between sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around it. Your back arches against the table, reaching a hand forward to thread your fingers tightly into his soft, blonde locks. He slides two fingers into your quivering pussy, smirking against your skin as a lewd cry of pleasure escapes you, knowing he’s got you in the palm of his hand… exactly where he wants you.

“Oh, pet, you taste so sweet for me, like the most indulgent dessert in the entirety of the Realms. Tell me, how good does it feel?”

“S-Satan… it feels so fucking good, don’t stop…,” you whine in response.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on stopping, my pretty little pet. Not until you’re properly prepared for my cock and I make you cum  all over  this table, your face twisting in pleasure, just for me.”

Satan pumps and curls his fingers inside you skillfully, pressing exactly right against your most sensitive spot. The pleasurable pressure floods your body, every nerve ending electrified. His tongue focuses its attention back to your clit, flicking and nibbling the swollen bud, working his fingers in tandem. Eyes roll into the back of your head in ecstasy and your mind is completely fogged over, able to focus only on the demon pleasurable movements. 

Hips roll towards his face, increasing the pressure of his tongue between your legs, and he moans against your pussy before sliding a third finger into you. The onslaught of sensations is nearly too much to bear, and you gasp as your pelvic muscles tighten around his fingers, signaling your oncoming release.  

“Ngh… Satan, I want to cum. Please, let me cum,” you beg, your voice laced in pleasure and desperation.

“Oh, so soon?” Satan laughs softly. “Well, you’ve been so good for me… so wet, and making those sweet sounds just for me. I suppose I can permit you…”

He places a kiss against your clit before moving his mouth to bite down hard into your thigh, leaving a bright red imprint behind. Smiling at the mark, he nods, eager to watch as you come undone before him. Fuck, does he want to see that beautiful face of yours as it twists in pleasure from his ministrations.

“Cum for me, my sweet kitten,” Satan commands.

Your head rocks back against the hard wooden table as your body writhes, feelings of pure ecstasy washing and shuddering through your body in waves. The grip of your fingers woven into his hair tightens as his name falls from your lips, each syllable pronounced with a moan between. Body jerking forward slightly, he delights in watching the slight gushing from between your legs runs down your thighs in deliciously tiny rivulets as your fluid excitement pools beneath your thighs and onto the table beneath you.

Satan pulls back slightly and smirks, lapping at your essence. Another moan sounds from his lips, tasting your sweet release, intent on not wasting a single precious drop before standing, removing his fingers from inside you. You hear yourself whine at the loss of him inside you, desperate to feel that stretch between your walls, the need for him almost physically painful. He grins at you again, a sadistic upturn or his lips as he moves his hands to his pants, making quick work of undoing his belt and zipper to free his cock. 

Watching closely, your eyes focus on him as you come back down from the high of pleasure, collecting your thoughts briefly before the sight of his hardened length before you clouds your mind over once more. You feel nearly light-headed, dizzy with arousal, solely able to think about pushing your hips in time with his as he takes you higher and higher.

Smug, Satan grabs your arm, turning you around. He pushes an arm into your back, effectively forcing you to bend you over the table. His hand reaches around your front to grope your breast through your shirt before taking a fistful of the fabric in his hand, ripping it clean off your body. A breathy gasp spills out of you, barely able to react before your bra suffers the same fate, torn into two on the floor.

“S-Satan! My uniform!” you gasp, studying the tattered garments littered onto the library floor.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” the demon coos, “I’m keeping your slutty little skirt fully intact. I want to watch my cock disappearing between your legs while you wear it.”

Using his free hand to hike the skirt up your thighs, he kicks your legs apart, letting out a loud, animalistic growl at the sight of you, before grabbing your ass cheeks in both hands, spreading you open completely. Fucking hell. How badly he wanted to slam his cock into either one of your needy set of holes, both quivering and clenching in anticipation. Sadistic grin returning, he relishes the power he holds over you at that moment.

“Look at you, spread before me like my favorite book, your needy little pussy just  aching to be stretched out and gaping from my cock,” Satan continues, his voice lowering several notes.

Unable to resist, his mouth moves between your legs, licking another stripe up your slit. Lifting an arm back, Satan brings his hand down to smack your ass, hard. A loud crack sounds across the room, and you hiss with the stinging pain. His eyes move to your ass cheek, delighting in the bright red mark left behind, deciding to give your ass a few more smacks. A groan sounds from behind you, demon form erupting, so thoroughly turned on by your breathy moans. 

“If only you could see yourself, pet, and see just what you’re doing to me. Your pussy is quivering for me, your body so desperate for me to use you and breed you like a dirty little cumslut. Isn’t that exactly what you are, you fucking tease?”

Satan’s hand moves to his cock, teasing his length up and down your dripping wet slit, the feeling of your abundant wetness coating him combined with your needy moans nearly too much for him to bear. Back arching, your hips push back against him instinctively, whining desperation growing louder, the need to feel him almost physically painful. He, too, feels the urge, painfully hard in his own hand. He needs to be inside you  now  , his own desperation beginning to cloud his thoughts… but before that, he needs to hear you beg.

“If you want it, beg me for it, kitten,” he commands.

Without hesitation, your lips part, ready to comply.

“Satan, fuck me, please!” you plead. “I need it. I need you. Please.”

His tail snakes forward and wraps tightly around your wrists, binding them together behind your back.

“Fuck, I love that sound,” he laughs, almost sadistically. “The sound of obedience without a second thought. You’re so fucking hungry for my cock and my cum, you’ll do just about anything, won’t you, you slut?”

Slowly, Satan slides his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt. 

“I seem to have forgotten, my sweet kitten, exactly which one of us is the one in heat,” Satan laughs. “The way you begged for me to fuck you and to fill you, my pretty little kitten must be in a heat of her own. Spreading her legs and arching her back, moaning to draw in the nearest suitors, just to be fucked, to fulfill her aching needs.”

You moan, finally satisfied at having gained the delicious stretch of his generous cock between your legs. The sound quickly turns into a lewd cry of pleasure that tears from your throat, slicing cleanly through the otherwise pure quiet of the library.

“Your pussy is so hot, tight, and wet for me, kitten. Such a good little whore. I’m going to fuck you into this table until you cum. And when you do, I’m going to fill your needy hole with my cum. I’m going to breed you like the hungry little cockslut that you are.”

“Y-yes, please!” you hear yourself begging again.

Satan shudders, savoring the feeling of your constricting warmth as he begins to fuck you from behind, watching as his cock disappear between your legs. He groans at the sight, snapping his hips into you at an unrelenting pace. His chest presses flush against your back, lips finding purchase on your neck before biting hard into it, intent on leaving more marks. Each thrust elicits a gasping moan from your lips, and he growls once more, feeling the vibration of the sound against your skin.

"Oh, fuck, yes , kitten. Keep making those sounds for me,” Satan groans. “You look so good like this, so helpless for me. I love the noises you make, taking every last inch of my cock.”

Green nails rake across the delicate skin of your back, leaving angry red welts in their wake. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming more frenzied, savoring the way you moan as the pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure. The sinful melody of skin smacking against skin permeates the room, pushing your hips back against his to meet in a harmony only the two of you know. 

His head drops back in pleasure as your pussy squeezes his cock, reaching a hand between your legs to rub circles around your clit with fervor. Your pleasurable cries grow louder with each breath, until their pitch practically reaches a sweet scream. Growing, Satan weaves his free hand into your hair, yanking your head to the side roughly, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“Such a noisy thing, aren’t you?” he growls. “Do you want my brothers to hear you, striding through those double doors? You probably do, don’t you? My pretty little slut, so uncaring for having an audience, or how many get to fuck her, as long as they can satiate the ache between her legs.”

Satan releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to press two fingers against your mouth. You part your lips, taking them into your mouth and sucking on them. He continues his merciless thrusts, working in perfect unison with the stimulation on your wet, now-swollen clit. It doesn’t take long before the fire pools low in your belly once more, your release threatening to take over you before you can even ask for permission.

“I want to cum, Satan, please!” your breathy cry rings out against the sounds of your sins.

“Yes, you do, kitten, because I’m making you feel  so  good, aren’t I?” Satan grins smugly with the words. “Cum for me. I want to feel that tight little pussy milking my cock, my name falling helplessly from your lips as you scream in pleasure. I’m going to breed you like the whore you are, and you had better not waste a single. Fucking. Drop.”

Time feels like it slows for a blissful few moments, your release building, more intensely than the first time. 

“F-fuck, S-Satan!”

Your eyes practically roll back as your head drops forward, body shuddering. The wildfire of pleasure roils relentlessly, burning through your veins second by sweet second, every cell in your body filled with the delicious feeling. Satan groans, his own release rapidly approaching. He continues to fuck into you as you cum before giving in to it, moaning loudly as he empties himself inside you almost endlessly, filling you to the brim with ropes and ropes of cum.

“Fuck, Kitten,” Satan pants, his chest heaving as he pulls out of you. “But I’m not done with you quite yet.”

His tail releases its hold on your wrists. Grabbing your arm again before you can drop forward, he gently turns you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss briefly before he flips you over onto your back. Hands move to spread your legs, pushing your knees to your chest. Satan observes you closely, peering between your legs; admiring your pussy, his seed dripping a slow trail onto the tops of your thighs before sliding onto the table beneath you. 

“I did say you had better not waste a single drop,” he muses, “yet here you are, leaking onto the table.”

Satan shakes his head before rubbing a thumb over your swollen clit. Feeling smug, he rubs just a bit faster, knowing the bundle of nerves is extra sensitive after your release, basking in the lewd noises you make.

“You fucking slut, you’re practically gaping for me. No wonder you can’t even keep all my cum inside you,” he chides, kneeling between your legs. “Perhaps I should help to ensure it stays inside of you?”

Pressing his fingers together, he slides his hand into your pussy.

“That’s my good girl,” Satan praises you, grinning at the way you continue to writhe at his touch. 

The generous stretch of your pussy with his hand feels so good, nearly as good as his cock and you moan louder and bite your lip, head dropping back. A bulge appears between your hips as he begins to pump his fist slowly back and forth inside you, the movement causing a few more droplets of his cum to spill out onto your thighs, and can't help but laugh a little.

“Oh, I suppose this just means I need to fill you up again to ensure you’re bred properly, my beautiful little cumslut,” he resolves, voice laden with silk.

Pulling his fist from between your legs, he quickly replaces it with his tail, dipping it into your slick pussy and thrusting it in and out a few times.

"Wouldn't want you feeling empty for too long, pet," Satan purrs.

The ridges play beautifully over your g-spot, and you gasp at the feeling. God, how fucking delectable you look in that moment. Eyes glazed over and blown out with lust, so far gone to him. You are his, but he isn’t done with you just yet. 

Satan smirks in satisfaction before sliding his tail out of your wet heat, moving it down and pressing the tapered tip of his tail against your puckered hole. Your eyes widen, curiosity and surprise widening your pupils.

“This time, kitten, I’m going to fuck both of your holes until you ask me to let you cum all over my cock; until you cum so  hard , you’re seeing stars.”

Satan presses his tail, thoroughly coated in your arousal, harder against your ass, a smug look overtaking his handsome features as you whine. Your legs fold back, knees pressed into your chest as you open yourself completely to him.

“Do it, Satan, please ,” you beg him, eyes pleading with urgency. “I just want to be so full of you, full of your cock and your cum. Please.”

With your permission, he slides his tail into your ass, grinning sadistically as your head rocks back against the table, clenching slightly, the sinful melody of your sweet moans the most beautiful music he has  ever  heard. He pumps it back and forth a few times, slowly at first, tapered ridges massaging the tight muscles, working to open you to him just a bit further. Feeling yourself loosen, his tail begins to move just a bit faster.

“Such a desperate little slut, begging to let me wreck your holes. I hope you’re ready now to take all of me, pet,” Satan murmurs.

“I am, I am, just please fuck me!”

“Gladly, kitten.”

Placing both hands on your hips, Satan pushes his cock back inside your needy pussy, lifting your hips and groaning at the way your tight walls quiver around him. He slams into you mercilessly, propping up your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to push deeply, until he can go no further. Eyes move down to your abdomen where he is greeted by the swell of his cock between your hips. Another feral growl sounds from his chest at the sight of it, moving even faster, mesmerized by the way your body bends to his  every  move. 

“Look, pet,” he growls. “That’s right. That’s my cock swelling in your belly, stretching your tight little body out.”

Snapping his hips into you at an animalistic pace, his growls grow louder, demonic instinct taking over; the careful restraint he tried so hard to maintain completely gone at the sight of your belly distending with his cock inside it. He sees red, sees nothing but fulfilling his natural desires in the form of fucking your holes without mercy.

“Harder, Satan, harder! It feels so good, don’t hold back,” your voice rings out, words stunted by small gasps and moans. 

The demon growls in slight annoyance, reaching a hand up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing lightly. His cock and his tail move in perfect sync, sliding in and out of your tight holes, increasing their pace as he fucks harder into you, caring little for your comfort as you bite back a scream.

“Is this what you want, kitten?” Satan’s words escape him in a feral snarl. “You like pushing boundaries, don't you, seeing exactly how much you can take or how much you can get away with? I think you may have forgotten, my sweet pet, of exactly who is in charge of your pleasure here. Perhaps you need a reminder.”

Snaking a hand between your legs, he rubs your clit feverishly. The Avatar of Wrath relishes your cries of pleasure, increasing in volume with each thrust until they near the high pitch of a scream.

“That’s right,” Satan growls. “Keep making those sounds for me, my sweet pet. Now…  cum for me for a third time tonight like a good girl.”

The sweet, sweet pressure in your ass and your pussy is too much to bear, and your release slams into you with no warning. Body writhing beneath him, your back arches, electrified ecstasy coursing through your veins as your heart pumps into every part of your body. A high-pitched scream of pleasure cuts through the air, surely loud enough to wake his brothers, but he doesn’t care.

“That’s my good girl, kitten,” he rasps, words stunted in his efforts. “I’m right behind you…”

Moving at a brutally fast pace, Satan chases his own release. It grips him shortly after you cum, and he spills into you endlessly once more, groaning and filling your pussy with his bitter seed. He pulls out of you, slowly removing his tail from your ass and keeping your legs spread, kneeling before you once more. Noting the way his cum continually leaks from your gaping pussy onto the library table, he shakes his head, chuckling again as he zips his pants back up.

“Well, I suppose that just gives me another excuse to have to keep filling you up, hm, kitten?” Satan laughs, reaching a hand out to you.

“S-Satan… thank you…,” you whimper, gazing into the mesmerizing pools of jade sea you have come to know well over the course of the night before grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“Oh? Thanking me?” he says in surprise, a genuine grin on his face. “I suppose I have to thank you as well, my sweet kitten. Thank you for taking all of me, and for giving me all of yourself.”

Satan steps back to pull you up to sitting as you pant and try to collect yourself. He wraps an arm around your waist, bearing your weight, your eyes closing in sudden exhaustion. He lifts you up off the table, pressing soft kisses against your forehead. You protest, starting to say something about leaving your notes behind and needing to study when Satan silences you with a deep kiss, pulling away after a few moments with a wink.

“Come, pet. Spend the night with me, and we will come to collect your things tomorrow. I believe a few healing spells and a bath are in order. And then, perhaps, see if we can’t get you those missing notes you’ve been searching for.”

[miss-smutty]

The Destructive Secret

Chapter 5

A/N- This is the angsty chapter I shared an extract from earlier. 😭😭😭

Summary- Chris lays his emotions bare and now you're only left with one option. Your secret needs to come out but how?

Word count- 1.6K

Pairing- Chris Hems x Reader x Liam Hems

Warnings- Angst, smut, swearing

18+ Only!!

Posted: 10th July 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @mostly-marvel-musings @longlostinanotherworld

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

The Destructive Secret Masterlist <<<<<

If you let yourself admit it, you wanted excitement, which is how you ended up here in the first place. You didn't want perfect anymore, you wanted a man who could do wrong and then make up for it in the most fulfilling way he knew how. Just thinking about it made your pulse race, Chris had put you through hell last night and now it was time for payback. You imagined him only a couple of floors above you, worried about the way you were going to act when you saw him and lord knows how much you're going to make him sweat.                    

You checked the coast was clear, peeking your head out of the door first, making sure there was no one in the hallway before you walked casually towards the elevator. Your heart rate was elavating almost as fast as the metal box you were encased in, travelling all the way to the top of the ridiculously high hotel building. You tried to block the thoughts of how high you must be from your head, distracting yourself from the thoughts of the walls closing in on you - your claustrophobia taking its hold.

By the time you stepped out of the elevator you were gasping for air, clutching at the walls to steady you, more than thankful that the ground was no longer moving. You pulled yourself together at least enough to actually put one foot in front of the other, your pulse still racing as you knocked on Chris' door. Chris answered almost immediately, you were knocked back like a punch in the chest when you saw him stood in only his boxers, his hair still wet from the shower. It'd been so long since you'd seen him undressed you'd actually forgot how breathtaking a sight it was, his muscles still gleaming with water he hadn't quite dried yet, that delicious line of hair that ran from his navel to below the hem of his boxers like a pathway leading to heaven.

Your eyes followed the line upwards to his broad chest until they met with his unblinking, sparkling blue eyes, alight with desire. You followed him into the room, not wanting anyone to see you and the huge smile on his face disappeared when he saw your face change from desire to anger. Expressionless and set firmly.

"Everything ok?" He looked you up and down, taking you in, pulling you towards him and into his arms. "Babe?" He looks down at you, moving you to arms length so he could see your face when you don't return his hug.

"No, what the fuck was that about last night?" You wriggle out of his arms, his touch making your body tingle. "Why you just pretending like that didn't happen?" 

"Fuck sake, we doing this now?" He runs his hand through his hair, throwing himself back on to the bed. It takes everything in you not to straddle him but you meant what you said when you said you were going to make him squirm.

"Yeah we're doing it now. That was fucking cruel, for me and for Liam." 

"It was cruel? How the fuck do you think I feel?" He sits up to look at you and you can see the tears in his eyes. "I have to see you together all the fucking time, I have to watch him all over you when we're at family parties." He stands up from the bed, pacing the floor in front of you. Your eyes were starting to sting with tears, you wasn't quite expecting this reaction.

"So excuse me if I was a little harsh but he doesn't appreciate what he's got. That he gets to see you every day and this..." he gestures to the room. "This is what I get." 

"I know, I'm sorry it's hard. It's ok, we don't have to talk about it anymore." 

"No, no, you wanted to talk so you can listen. You're constantly telling me how hard it is for you and how you can't do it anymore and i take it all, I listen to you taking it out on me all of the time." You sit down on the end of the bed, wishing you had just let it go. You can't help but cry now, wishing you could take it back, wishing you hadn't made him so upset. You're terrified at the words that are going to come out of his mouth, terrified that it's going to all end.

"I.. I'm sorry Chris." You cry, barely even able to look at your man falling apart in front of you.

"You never hear how hard it is for me, how badly I want it to be over with but you won't will you? You can't face being the bad guy for once. Last night I was willing to take the fall, I was willing to take the blame just so we didn't have to do this anymore and then I saw your face... Fuck..." He shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, his hands tucked behind his head. "I saw your face and I knew, I fucking knew you still couldn't do it." Chris was crying silently, his anger and frustration falling from his eyes. 

"Baby, babe please..." You get up, tucking yourself into his chest trying to calm him down. "Look at me Chris." You cup your fingers under his chin trying to get him to look at you.

"I don't want to fucking do this anymore, I can't do it anymore." He breaks down, finally looking into your eyes, the amount of pain you see there breaks your heart.

"I know baby." You pull him into you, so his heads resting on your shoulder as you sit back onto the end of the bed. "We're going to figure it out this weekend ok? I fucking love you though, I'm yours ok?" 

Is it possible to love two people at the same time? You think it is, no you know it is because you do. You love them both so much, just maybe one of them slightly more and though you hate yourself for it, it's not Liam.

The atmosphere changes suddenly when Chris looks up at you, his eyes alight with flaring need. Pushing you back on to the bed, his knees either side as he leans over you, his face hovering above yours. You wince at the anguish and neediness you see in his eyes beneath the lust. You will satiate his need anyway he wants you to, just so you don't have to see that look in his eyes again.

"Show me you're mine." His hand cups around your burning heat, the heel of his hand pressing into your clit making you writhe beneath him.

You moan deeply for him as he pulls your panties off, discarding them over his shoulder. Sucking air through his teeth he rubs circles over your clit, slowly.

"Say it, tell me how much you want me." He groans, his cock straining against his boxers.

"I want you. I want you so badly." He leans back to watch you as you move your hand between you both to cup his straining cock, squeezing gently. Your body arching from the bed at the feel of his hardness.

Chris groans gruffly, a deep animal like noise leaving his lips as he pulls out his cock, lining up with your opening and pushing himself in hurriedly. He reaches down to take your lips in his, claiming them with heavy kisses making your lips feel swollen and plump. Your neck straining to reach him as he clings to your bottom lip with his teeth pulling back, watching his cock slide in and out, the tightness of your walls clinging to his length with its own thirst and need.

Gritting his teeth as he grips on to the headboard with one hand, the other seizing your ass in his big hands, lifting you up as he burys you into the mattress with his relentless pounding. You whine loudly, the feel of his cock stretching your walls becoming too much. Your mind whirring, ears ringing as you release around his grip.

You can see the desperation on his face, the urge to cum and the desire to show you what you are missing dueling in his mind. His face contorted into an uncomfortable expression as he eases his pace, thoughts drifting through his mind as he tries to control his heart rate. You cup your hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look at you but he can't, one look and it's all over he wouldn't be able to resist.

"He can't do it like I do. That's why you keep coming back isn't it?" You turn your head to the side to hide the tears that threaten to fall, heart broken at how this whole situation is breaking him, how much he's in denial about the way you feel about him because you're not tough enough to do anything about it. 

"Speak to me, tell me. I need to hear it... Please." His voice breaks.

"Yes, fuck baby. You're all I want." And that's all he needs to hear until he thrusts deeply inside of you, painting your insides with his cum, a gutteral moan emitting from his lips.

Rolling over onto his back, he pulls you onto him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, his hands stroking your smooth back. 

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too." You plant a kiss under his chin, too worn out to move properly. Emotions well and truly kicking in now. 

"I want to do that every day, multiple times." He sighs.

"Soon, my love." You soothe.

He turns on his side, looking at you, his leg wrapping around yours. Holding you close, afraid to let you go.

"I want to be able to take you out and show you off, instead of hiding away in hotels rooms. I want everyone to know you're mine, not Liam's." 

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 1

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter One: Moonlight Messages

Soon, the flowers wouldn’t be enough. No, Elain corrected herself as she glared at the vase, they weren’t enough already. They had never been enough.

The house slept while Elain perched on her window ledge at the River Manor. Despite her cotton nightgown, she had not yet been able to find sleep herself, as so often she did these days. And so, Elain had risen to sit in the silver light of her window ledge and watch the impossibly beautiful night sky of the Night Court wink down at her tauntingly.

The revelation had occurred to Elain a few nights ago, but it hadn’t seemed important then and, along with most of Elain’s life experience thus far, had been brushed under the proverbial carpet. Her education in the etiquette of balls, the correct way one must curtsey in the presence of lady’s and dames, even the novels she’d read on the history of cutlery; it was all useless. She should be upset; she should care that the values that had been instilled in her by her terrifying mother had all but evaporated. But Elain felt nothing.

She was afraid of the flowers, though, because once they’d gone she’d really have nothing left. No mother, no father, no mortal etiquette, in fact, no mortality at all. After being reborn in a world that didn’t make sense to her, after being abandoned by everything she held dear, her father, her fiancé, gardening truly was the only common factor between her life then, and her life now.

And that was useful, to begin with. Gardening was a lifeline to pull her out of the fog that was those first months out of the Cauldron. It should’ve been a steppingstone in her road to recovery, the first step into her new life. Instead, it had consumed her.

As Feyre continued to prove that she’d always meant to be the High Lady of the Night Court, and especially when Nesta – Nesta – found her footing with the Valkyries and began to make a life for herself in Prythian, Elain was left to her flowers. There was nothing else for her, no purpose. No one knew how to talk to her; too afraid she might break if they ask anything more of her than a new pot of petunias.

But if flowers were all the universe could give her, whilst her sisters got married and began to spew out their beautiful children, then she would be grateful. But the flowers weren’t enough, and she was a fool to ever think otherwise.

She’d read every book, familiarised herself with the climates of the different courts and the different shrubbery that grow there. The information was running out, and so, her purpose was running out. Maybe this wouldn’t have threatened her when she was a human, when she only had a good 80 years, if she were lucky, before she’d be taken in the arms of oblivion. But it was eternity that now stretched before her. Eternity of being her sister’s gardener.

Death gives life meaning, petal – so live. It’s what Elain’s father had told her when Graysen had asked for her hand in marriage. Elain had kneeled at her father’s feet, giggling as she gripped his knees and begged him to say yes. In all her life, she’d never been so happy. She was to be married, she was to have her own estate, her own gardens! Imagine that. It would be a little life, nothing of the prince her mother had sworn she was pretty enough to marry. But Elain would’ve gone with Graysen even if he had only a cottage and a ring made of straw.

Her mother, rest her soul, had told Elain that she was a fool, because she believed in romance the way children of the night believed in the fae. Elain devoted her life to romance, her holy books were the novels her father had brought her from the continent, full of dangerous escapades and rising tension, love confessions and secret weddings. Where Nesta had wished to marry rich, Elain had wished to fall in love.

Silly girl, infatuated with infatuation. Her mother’s voice echoed around her head. Just wait, Elain. Wait until a man breaks your heart, it’s all they know to do, then you’ll realise that you and I, well, we aren’t so different after all.

Elain hated her mother for a multitude of reasons, but most of all because she was right. Now her engagement ring was sitting at the bottom of her beside drawers, her heart was broken, her body something else entirely, and her mind…Her mind was torture. It was a labyrinth, and it was complicated. Where Elain used to have silence, she now had noise, endless undisturbed chatter of visions that had not yet taken form. And above it all, beating like a drum of justice – his heartbeat.

At that moment, it was steady and satiated, and Elain knew that meant he was asleep. Lucien, her mate, safe and asleep on the other side of Prythian, and though she could never admit it to herself, the thought did bring her some comfort. At least Lucien was stagnant and reliable, even if he was only reliable in his ability to avoid her at all costs.

It felt like rejection.

All this time Feyre and Nesta, even Rhysand, had talked to her about Lucien in terms of everything being her choice. It would be her choice if she wanted to accept the bond with Lucien, and no matter her decision, Lucien was a good enough male to accept that choice and move on. But it didn’t much feel like her choice mattered, not when her supposed soulmate spent his days at the other end of the lands, as far away from her as possible. Maybe he was hoping she’d reject the bond, but that didn’t explain his behaviour when he visited, all racing heartbeats and flushed cheeks.

Lucien was a hypocrite, Elain couldn’t help but think as she sighed into the crook of her elbow, feeling a surge of emotion batter through her. Damn her human heart. Lucien was a hypocrite because in leaving her, he’d left her with no choice at all.

He may as well have rejected her. As Graysen had rejected her. As Azriel had rejected her.

All Elain wanted was to love, and to be loved, and yet she was loveless, alone – drowning, all over again. Most of the time Elain could keep the ocean of agony at bay, the one that had almost killed her when she’d first come out of the Cauldron. But then there were moments like these, in the dead of night, when she could not sleep. In these moments, the pain had nowhere to go, and it rose up in her life a black wave, before taking her under.

Sinking her teeth into the crook of her elbow until she tasted her fae blood, Elain battled through the wave of emotion. Her tears coming hot and quick as she curled into herself and lay, paralyzed in the depth of her aloneness, till the clouds smothered the moon and turned the world dark.

***

On the other side of Prythian, Lucien found himself tumbling into consciousness. He was sprawled on his back in his bedroom of the Lockhart manor, the residence of Vassa and Lucien, and he supposed, his own home too. Supposedly. The pale sheets were crumpled around his waist and his bare chest was rising steadily in the moonlight.

Unable to stay still, and forever thinking the worst after a childhood of running and hiding, Lucien sprung from his bed and unsheathed his sword from where it hung on a nearby armchair. Breathing through his nose, Lucien turned back to the dark room, his eyes, one fae, one machine, roved over the room, checking for any threat.

But the moment he was up and moving, his body showed him his cause for waking. A sharp, agonising tug from in between his ribs on his left side caused Lucien to surge forwards with a gasp, his sword cluttering to the floor. Just when he recovered from that first tug of the mating bond, a second followed, throwing Lucien onto his hands and knees as a wave of pure, agonising, hopelessness washed over him.

But the moment he was up and moving, his body showed him his cause for waking. A sharp, agonising tug from in between his ribs on his left side caused Lucien to surge forwards with a gasp, his sword cluttering to the floor. Just when he recovered from that first tug of the mating bond, a second followed, throwing Lucien onto his hands and knees as a wave of pure, agonising, hopelessness washed over him.

“What…” Lucien gasped into the silence, his hand running over his ribs, trying to ease the bond that was so fervently demanding his attention. The bond had pulled on him, not Elain – at least he could tell that by now. But the way in which the bond had demanded his attention, it was haunting. It felt as though it had reached the end of a limit, like an elastic band stretched to far only for it to snap right back.

With his mating bond being tugged on so viscerally the base mate desires that Lucien had spent two years putting a damper on, raged into fiery life. Go to her. Find her. Comfort. Keep her safe. Protect her. Comfort…She’s hurting. Kill the threat. Growling into the silence, Lucien scrunched his eyes shut and threw himself against those urges, shoving them deep down. As he did so he repeated his mantra to himself – ‘She doesn’t need me. She doesn’t want me. I will not demand anything of her. She’s fine.’

The last one didn’t really help, not if the overwhelming sadness was any indication of how his mate was faring. She’s upset. The bond seemed to whisper in his ear and Lucien felt his guts turn. Elain was supposed to be happy, that’s why he was doing all of this. He was keeping himself on the other side of the world so she could find herself, so she could be happy. But she wasn’t. If that spout of emotion was enough of an indication, Elain was miserable.

Sighing, Lucien rocked back onto his knees and ran a hand down his face, only for his hand to come away wet. Touching his cheek again, Lucien smelt the brine of tears in his room. But they weren’t his tears. No, a lady, his lady, was weeping on the other side of the world, hard enough for her tears to roll down his cheeks.

Again, Lucien felt his guts turn and thought for a moment he might be sick. Throwing himself to his feet Lucien sat back on his bed, glaring out his window to the moon, the same moon she might be looking at, at that very instant.

Lucien didn’t have anything going for him. He was a traitor, a coward, a seventh son, an outsider; when the world reforged itself around the Archeron sisters, Lucien had got left behind. No, not left behind, stuck. He was neither here nor there. Neither friend nor foe. Nothing was solid in his life, nothing constant, except that golden thread wrapped around his ribcage, tugging him north to…her.

She was enigmatic and good, supposedly. The same way he was supposedly cunning. He wanted to…well, he wanted to do everything. But in this moment, and over the past few months, he just wished to know her. A minute of her time, each day, would that be so much. But she was beyond him, in every sense of the word.

She was still broken and still healing, and he couldn’t impose himself into her new world. Right?

Lucien groaned and turned away from the moonlight, burying his head into his pillow. All Lucien seemed to be able to think was that somewhere, on the other side of Prythian was Elain. Elain, alive and well. His mate. His mate. Mother, he’d never get over saying those two little, impossible words.

She was his soulmate, did that mean she was awake now, thinking of him the way he thought of her? Obsessively, incandescently, without remorse or restraint. Rolling on his back, Lucien looked again at the moon.

“Are you thinking of me?” He whispered into the silence, only the moonlight and the mother to hear the tremble in his voice, “…because I’m thinking of you…I’m always thinking of you.”

[gallickingun]

the space between || b.k.

SUMMARY: It’s been a long time since Bokuto has had a Saturday morning off, and you plan to use it to your full advantage. 

PAIRING: Bokuto Koutarou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: mentions of nudity, emotional cuddles, etc. WORD COUNT: 4.2k+

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a cute, quick little fic about cuddling in the nude with Bokuto and here we are, four thousand words later. I hope you guys like it, my first Bo piece! 💕

The plush of the mattress jostles and you find yourself stirring from the realm of slumber, eyes still glued together with the sleep that fogs your mind. You are living in a haze, a mixture of your sleep deprivation and the boneless way your body lies within the sheets, joints and muscles aching from the tortuous pleasure you’ve been put through by the man you love most.

You want to stretch and open your eyes, to crack open your lids to find him sleeping next to you, a divot in the duvet where his hefty body has taken residence. But it is too difficult and too tiring to even think of putting forth effort at this point, your appendages practically creaking with the gentle movements you attempt to make. And so you settle for nosing yourself further into the down of your pillow instead, drinking in the warmth and the smell of his shampoo off the sheets.

“Sleepy head,” his voice is just a touch too loud for you to find enticing this early in the morning, despite how ravenous you were to hear it only a few hours prior, “s’time to get up, c’mon.”

You whine, screwing your eyes shut even further to the point where your vision throws speckles of fire against the backs of your lids. Every one of your muscles aches and you cannot force yourself to do anything other than lie there and take whatever verbal or physical assaults he chooses to instill upon you.

It starts with his palm, warm and expansive, running up your thighs. You clench the muscles as you feel his weight settle between your knees, his body still above the covers, your bare skin still hidden to him from the neck down. He chuckles and the baritone of it makes your spine shudder, your toes curling in anticipation, the build up before the burst.

With Bokuto, there is always a burst.

A gentle kiss is pressed to your navel, the bow of his lips finding the dip in your skin despite the barrier of a high thread count between the two of you. In response, you turn your head so your cheek is pressed into the pillow, embarrassment flooding your body in the form of a heated flush, singeing his fingertips as he roams your skin above the sheets. You’re too attuned to his ministrations, and everything that he does sends your body into a flurry of desire, as if your atoms were built to suffer until he brings a soothing balm of his own to you in the form of his fingerprints.

“Not ready yet, Bo,” you reach for him with one wavering hand, futile save for the fact that he longs for your skin nearly as much, if not more, than you long for his. Your thumb finds his bicep and it allows you enough of a guide to flatten your palm against the muscle, mapping out he curve along his deltoid, where you hook your middle finger to keep yourself steady, anchoring yourself to him like he was some sort of lifeboat, “Come back to bed.”

Your voice is slurred enough to make even the strongest of men weak, Bokuto thinks. The lilt each syllable carries, the way your eyes roll behind translucent lids, it’s all too much for his flimsy form. He can spike at what feels like one hundred miles per hour, but when he’s this close to you, his muscles atrophy and his heart stops beating.

You are a force to be reckoned with, and his heart always begs for just another whirlwind of you.

Bokuto is laughing again, this time nuzzling the apex of his face along your abdomen, counting out your ribs with the tip of his nose. It’s almost as if he’s making sure that you’re still all here, like he might have lost bits and pieces of you in the night. His breath is warm against your skin, adding to the heat the your body is accumulating from the promise of what is to come if you prove yourself tantalizing enough.

His hands pull the covers down to pool around your hips, gooseflesh pin-pricking your skin at the sudden change in temperature. Bokuto loves watching your body react, each inch of your seized up and stone cold, and he full-well intends to satiate your need for warmth. He kisses the bone of your right hip, nose trailing along the swell of your belly until he kisses the hollow of your navel, a gentle sound resonating in the soft space between your soul and his, “I’m right here, baby doll.”

You pout, forcing yourself to crack one eyelid open so you can half-glower down at him, even though the look has no malice or intent behind it. Bokuto pushes himself upward to snag your lower lip between the bite of his teeth, playfully nipping at the fullness of your skin. The closeness allows you the opportunity to slip your boneless arms around his neck, arching your back upward until your chests are flush with one another. You leech from his heat, begging to be enraptured by his body and stolen by his affections.

Bokuto’s body complies, his blood coursing scorching tendrils through his veins, making his skin sear against yours, a stark contrast to the coolness of your own. He appreciates you for a moment, eyes drinking you in, the way that your body pebbles beneath him, cool and compliant, awaiting his touch. He knows that he has you underneath his thumb, that he could have his way with you in any version of this that he wanted. He has your trust entirely, which is why when he leans down to kiss you square on the mouth, your frame molds to his own, and he is not sure where he ends and you begin.

The melding of your mouths has yet to cease his heartbeat from quickening, time after time. He does not grow weary of your tongue and gums beneath his own muscle, licking at the seam of your lips so he can devour you whole. You welcome him, of course, prying your teeth open so you can feel his heat extend to your own skin even further than before.

Your fingertips wind into his hair, tugging at the dark roots before you allow one palm to stray, trailing down over his shoulder. Bokuto is clad in a tank top, indicative of his morning workout, but it is thin enough that you can feel the corded muscle underneath the fabric, and you take full advantage of the diaphanous clothing to explore the range of his back and shoulders. The tactile difference between his shirt and his tresses forces you to focus on something, allowing you to keep your mind on this plane of existence rather than ascending to another. You moan when you feel the curve of his tongue prodding against your lips again, your knees trying to break free from the pinned position he has you in so you can bare yourself entirely to him.

Bokuto reaches upward to brush his knuckles along your jawline, abandoning your ribs for something closer to your heart. He is smirking against your mouth as he pulls away before he can become too enraptured in your taste and familiarity, “I’ve already had my morning jog and you’re still in bed, babe. I should punish you for being so lazy.”

Your backside throbs at the mention of punishment, still raw and angry from the memory of the long night that has hardly even passed, given the position of the sun outside the window. You feel the warmth of the rays trickling through the shades, golden light creating a tanned hue on Bokuto’s bare skin. You trace the thin beams that have formed shadows against his neck and shoulders, your fingertip finding his jugular and pressing down firmly to feel his pulse shudder under your touch.

The both of you flush with a lustful heat, your ears and nose changing color in tandem with one another. Bokuto can feel you trembling, knows that your mind has wandered to what his hands that are currently gentle and soft can truly do. He nudges his cheek against yours to feel the warmth of your embarrassment collecting there, the shade of your skin different now.

“You have the weekend off, no practice,” your hands flex against the back of his head and his shoulder, “and you seriously don’t want to just stay in bed? You’re always talking about how you don’t get enough sleep!”

Bokuto runs his hands over your torso, circling your waist with his expansive palms, sending a trail of blazing heat in his wake as he maps out the contours of your abdomen. He is laughing again, shaking his head so those silver tendrils fall in his face, obscuring you from his vision, “I guess you are pretty tired, huh? I wore you out last night.”

“Bo!” You reach up to smack his arm, gripping onto his bicep afterward. Your entire body sings with the remembrance of the way he folded you practically in half, his fingerprints ghosting against your skin now in the form of bruises, a tangible memory of his impressive brute strength.

He scrunches his nose as he grapples your forearm, circling his fingers around your wrist so he can pull your hand towards his face, kissing the innermost part of your arm as if he were planting a garden with the ministrations. His lips find your pulse point and he runs his nose along the grain of your arm, running the tip of it up to your wrist before he cracks his eyelids open to fixate onto you with that warm, golden gaze.

“What, did’ya already forget? Do you need a reminder?” Bokuto slips one palm underneath your thigh to grip the globe of your backside, squeezing the flesh harshly. It stings on impact, your hips canting forward to meet his with uncontrollable fervor. You have to bite down on your tongue to keep a moan from slipping between your teeth, the salacious feel of his hand against your ass doing little to quell the fire bubbling up within your belly.

“Koutarou, you little shit,” you’re growling out the syllables under your breath but he knows you have no follow-through, there will be no promise of anger or punishment. Another garbled set of words tries to flee from your tongue but you cannot focus on them because your mouth is otherwise occupied.

Bokuto hitches your leg upward, the sheet falling down from your knee so your thigh is now bared to him. He shivers at the sudden change in texture, from silken fabric to supple skin. It’s difficult for him to concentrate on your mouth when your leg is brushing against his hip in such a way that drives his mind mad. And yet, somehow he finds a way, silver lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks as he closes his eyes, narrowing his focus to the taste of your tongue and the curve of your gums. He is enraptured by you, nothing but a heap of broken bones begging to be pieced back together at the mercy of your hands.

And you oblige him, just as you always do. Your fingerprints are the key to his soul, pressing firmly against his skin and opening him like no other.

You search him, pulling out those groans of ecstasy and aborted thrusts as his hips stutter against your waistline. Bokuto’s mouth draws downward, creating a line of open-mouthed kisses that leave behind a damp trail, as if it were gasoline, clear and slick along your skin. You beg him for the match as you moan his name, your skin matching his in heat now that he has engulfed you like a flame, threatening to light your whole body to a raging fire if you let him linger long enough.

“Maybe you’re right,” he gasps against your jugular, practically wanton in nature as he hovers over your body.

Leaning back, Bokuto reaches for your leg, tugging your calf upward so your ankle rests against his shoulder. He angles his head so he can kiss the bone there, a thin layer of skin keeping your barest parts from him. He chuckles and the warmth of his laughter spreads through your limbs like a raging bonfire, searing just beneath the surface.

He turns so he can look you in the eyes, “Maybe I will come back to bed.”

The smile that graces your lips makes it all worth it.

Bokuto allows you to strip his torso of the offensive article of clothing, the fabric added to the pool of your clothes on the floor beside the bed. Your hands waste no time in mapping out his torso, pectorals and oblique muscles receiving extra dotes of attention. He nips at your collarbones, admonishing you from allowing him to continue to strip down so the both of you are evenly matched, full patches of skin on display so neither of you can hide from one another.

Even bare, his frame no longer hindered by bulky clothes, Bokuto still proves to be a massive man. Bulging muscles and thick bones that pave the way for his thick extremities and loitering weight. When his knees dip into the mattress, you find yourself rolling towards them, the slope of the bed changed with his added weight. You giggle as you try to hold yourself upright, eyes squinting shut when he reaches across the space between your bodies to grip your rib cage. His hold on you is gentle but firm, keeping you in place without bruising you.

The two of you settle into one another as if you’ve been doing this your whole lives, falling into a position that leaves the both of you comfortable and close. Your head is tucked beneath his neck, your chin on his collarbone as you lie still, his breath warm as it dithers into the crown of your hair, your mouth open as you breath against his throat. The tanned flesh sprouts goosebumps and you can’t help the laughter that piques your voice, your nose nuzzling his jugular as his apple bobs when he tries to breathe.

“C’mere,” he murmurs against your forehead, kissing you shortly after the word is spoken. Bokuto’s palm runs down your side, gentle as he hooks his three middle-most fingers around the curve of your thigh, “you feel so good, baby, so warm and soft.”

You roll your eyes and lean back to look up at him, “Just what every woman wants to hear, Bo, that I’m soft.”

“What the hell is wrong with that?!” Bokuto gently bumps his forehead into yours, successfully hitching your leg up over his thigh so your waists are now flush with one another. You hook your ankle around the backside of his thigh reluctantly, narrowing your line of sight until your irises are but slits hidden behind half-hooded lids.

He scoffs, “I swear, you find something wrong with everything I say, woman.”

There is no true frustration behind his words, but you tilt your head upward to kiss him anyways. Your affections usually bring about some form of amnesia, as Bokuto is too enticed by the taste of your tongue to remember you admonishing him only moments prior. His fingers press harder against the muscle of your leg, trailing down so he can trace the dip of your calf and ankle, like he might be mapping out your anatomy so he could memorize it for later.

“I’ve missed you,” you manage when you pull away from him, ducking your head so your forehead bumps his chin. Your whole face is coated in an embarrassed heat, eyes beginning to water at the memory of too many nights spent alone in this bed while he travels the world to play out his dreams on the court.

Bokuto can feel the shift in your demeanor, and he pulls you closer to him on instincts alone. Your chest presses into him and you swear your heartbeats are in time with one another, the slow rhythm like a song that plays for only each other to hear. His hands try to find any part of you that he can touch, your skin calling to him in the quiet of your bedroom, begging to be praised and flourished with affections. He pulls the sheet up to your waists, allowing you some form of privacy despite it only being the two of you who live in between these walls.

“I think about you every day,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. Your chest tightens at the sound of his downcast tone, and you know that those usually bright, amber eyes have lost their golden hue, turning a sad, sallow shade in favor of the standard color. Bokuto nudges his nose over your cheek, sporadic kisses pressed against your skin as he speaks, “I always go back to the hotel room, thinking you’re going to be there by some stupid accident. I look forward to your good morning texts and every time I get to call you, it’s like it’s just you and me, alone in the world. Does that make sense?”

You have tears streaming down your cheeks, but he was too wrapped up in his own range of emotions to notice. Once he recognizes the dampness plaguing his collarbones has nothing to do with his own natural sweat production, Bokuto is tilting your head up with a knuckle underneath your jaw, his thumb gently pinching your chin, “Hey, sweetheart, wh-did I say something wrong? I swear, I’m so fucking stupid with words, I just-”

His rambling musings are cut short by your lips surging forward, swallowing him whole with a simple gasping moan. You dig your nails into his body, sinking into whatever patch of skin is closest. You need this tactile comfort, to remind yourself to come down from this high that he has created by stringing together a few simple syllables.

“I love you,” your voice is haggard and slow, but it does not matter, not in this moment, “I love you, Bo.”

The palms of his hands sear into your shoulders as he runs the heels of them along the curve of your body. He rubs up and down, creating a friction that warns you that you might catch fire if he does not show you distance. You welcome the heat, welcome the burn, because the ache that it leaves behind when he is gone is so much more intense than if he were to keep you at bay. You look up at him, eyes wide and begging for some form of solace in his gaze, “And I’m proud of you, for doing this. Pursuing your dreams.”

“Nah, baby doll,” Bokuto pushes your hair from your face, fingertips lingering on your cheek, held there by some existential force that he cannot fathom, “you’re my dream, yeah? S’all you.”

He angles your head upward again, tilting his wrist as he cups your face, kissing you gently for what feels like hours on end. Your mind slips into a sort of haze, gentle colors passing behind your lids as he prods and tugs at your lips. You feel euphoric, champagne bubbles drifting upwards from your stomach, effervescent and unrelenting. He is a high you would dare to chase for the rest of your life, even if he sits just out of reach. You don’t mind getting drunk off of his love if it leaves you with this overwhelming sense of adoration that warms you from the inside out, leaving your fingertips buzzing with the promise of what is to come next always being better than what has come before.

“Volleyball isn’t forever,” he whispers like he does not want it to come true, but knows it must despite his reluctance, “but you? I’ve got you for life.”

You cannot help the tears that swim down your cheeks, creating glittering rivulets of saltine droplets, sticking into your hair and onto the pillowcase. Bokuto chuckles as he swipes at the sticky skin, brushing away any evidence of your emotions. You want to refute him, to tell him that he can make volleyball something he could do forever if he just worked hard enough. But you know that isn’t true – he is but a mortal, despite your thoughts otherwise, and mortals break, they wither into nothingness. He can not spike like a twenty-something year-old athlete forever, and even if he chooses to coach, it may never bring about the fulfillment that the sound of squeaking his sneakers on a court can.

Bokuto is gentle as he kisses you, a simmering heat spreading from your lips to your toes the longer he stays connected to you at the mouth. His hands fawn all over you, searching each dip and cord of muscle and bone and skin as he does so, mapping out your frame like he has not done this a dozen times and will not continue to do it for the rest of his days.

The hoarse phrase of, “I love you,” is whimpered into the spaces between your teeth, where your soul and his collide. Your heart rolls from within the cage of your ribs, knowing full-well that if it were possible, if you were to look hard enough there would be a bruised outline against your skin from where the organ were beating so quickly that it might look as if it were trying to escape.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bokuto’s hand against your cheek drifts downward, ghosting over your throat before resting against the left side of your chest. His thumb brushes along the swell of your breast, but you know the action is far from sensual in nature, the heel of his palm digging in just enough so he can feel the thumping of your heart underneath your skin and bones. He breathes in slowly as the organ thuds under his touch, taking you in moment by moment, unwilling to miss even the slightest movement or sound.

Your hands find his cheeks, holding his jaw gently in your hands as your lips volley back and forth, soft, audible smacking echoing from your mouths as you kiss. The way his thigh slides between your knees has you clenching around him, your own body trying to accommodate the sizable appendage as he slots himself closer to you.

Bokuto has always been desperate for your affections, from the beginning of your relationship to now, nothing has changed. He wants to be as close to you as possible, practically suffocating you with his proximity and even though you feel like you’re drowning within his hold, you would never come up for air again if it meant being with him. There is little space between you now, bodies melded together underneath the thin sheet, warmed by the golden rays of sunlight beaming through the window. You wonder how ethereal this must look – sunshine on your skin, golden hour in your hair. You two must be the picture of intimacy, wound together and unable to be separated, two bodies become one in the moment of heightened grace and poise.

“Bo,” you manage to breathe his name as he relinquishes your mouth in favor of your throat. Your hands latch onto his shoulders when he leans in closer, rolling his body upwards against you. The hard wall of muscle that ripples when he moves is enough to bring any woman to her knees, let alone one so weak for him such as you.

He lands a kiss to your collarbone before angling his head so he can look you in the eyes, “Yeah, babe?”

You don’t want the tears to fall, but you can’t help it with the way your eyes are watering and when you blink, a fresh set of salted pearly drops are dripping down onto his skin , “Will you hold me?”

Bokuto is wrapping you up into the tightest embrace you think you could handle before you can wheeze out your final syllable. You are warm all over, completely wracked in heat as he holds you closely, your head against his chest so you can count out his heartbeats until your own rhythm has settled. You curl your arms around his shoulders until your palms are flat against his contoured muscles, finding solace in the burning planes of skin there, his body heated from a mixture of lust and adoration that fuels his very being when he is closest to you.

“Of course, baby,” Bokuto is ever the sturdy one, keeping you sane despite your attempts to turn otherwise. He kisses the crown of your head as if he were planting a flower bed, gentle petal-like pecks along each lock of your hair. A light, airy string of laughter is huffed along your forehead, an open-mouthed kiss placed soon after, “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

You believe him, because Bokuto has always been there to piece you back together when you want to fall apart, crumbling to the ground like shattered and tattered pieces of the person that you are. His strength is unparalleled, and you do not wish to search for anyone who might come close to him because not only would it be futile, but it would be a waste of your time.

After all, how could you ever find someone who so perfectly fits into the spaces between you like he does?

[candycityy]

waltz

Synopsis: He'd chase her to hell itself, and beyond, if he had to. Greek mythology/PJO-inspired reincarnation AU.

[Click here to read on AO3 instead.]

The first time, Levi dies quietly, in his sleep.

He does not go out in fire and fury; it is a peaceful death, one he goes into with grey in his temples and sickness in his blood, unbecoming of humanity's strongest soldier. But Levi has never been a hero. Never wanted to.

He wakes to the gentle, rocking motion of a sailboat. It's dark, cavernous, but there is no ceiling as far as he can see, only steep walls of grey rock that stretch into the sky, lined with candle sconces that curve upwards and throw eerie blue light onto the dew-slicked surfaces.

He moves to sit up. His head spins, his consciousness threadbare and fragmented. When he glances over the edge of the boat, he sees a strange reflection in the black water.

It's him, but...different. Paler, younger, gaunter. The ghostly light casts shadows that pool in the hollows of his cheekbones and underneath his eyes, making him look almost skeletal.

Appropriate, he supposes, considering he's dead.

The figure that sits silently at the other end of the boat smiles, a flash of white, pointed teeth in a silhouetted face. "Levi Ackerman," it pronounces. Its voice is soft but grating, like its vocal cords are made of rusted iron instead of soft flesh. "I finally meet you. It's an honour."

"More than I can say for you." His voice is unnaturally loud, bouncing off the rock and echoing into the silence. "Am I supposed to know who the fuck you are?"

"I am Charon." It inclines its head, and Levi catches a flash of its eyes; they're the same strange blue-grey as the flames that light the cave. "You don't know me, but I know you. Oh, if I could count all the times I've heard that name on the lips of the newly-dead...as if you were a demon, or a god."

When Levi doesn't respond, Charon continues, its conversational tone clashing with the rasp of its voice. "But now that I see you here, as dead as any of your soldiers, I see you are no more than simply human."

The boat bumps roughly against the shore. In the distance, a city emerges, like magic, from the darkness. It glows with a warm light, delicate towers of glass rising up into the sky, which is already lightening into a soft, clear blue. As Levi watches, the grey rock of the shore metamorphoses into an endless, rolling green field, blades of grass shifting and swaying in a nonexistent breeze.  

"Your fare?" Charon extends a bloodless, expectant hand. Levi stares back uncertainly.

"What?"

"There is always a price to pay, to cross over into death." Charon's withered lips curve into a smirk. "Blood, or wealth, or sorrow...and in your case, that." It nods at his clenched fist.

He uncurls his fingers, revealing a tattered soldier's patch, torn from their uniform, embroidered with the emblem of blue and white wings he thought he'd never see again. It sits among a sea of red, crescent-shaped imprints, carved into pale flesh.

Before Levi can react, the ferryman reaches over and plucks it from his open palm. In its skeletal grasp, the patch shrinks and changes, turning into a single heavy, gold coin.

Charon stands up, its spine curving into a low, mocking bow.

"Welcome to Elysium, Levi Ackerman. I wish you a pleasant death."

==

Levi doesn't remember much about his death.

He'd died in bed, he thinks—he remembers the sharp, acrid scent of medicine and disinfectant, the way the illness crept into his bloodstream, making his bones brittle and his lungs constrict. But already, his time on earth is becoming a distant memory, colours and textures and emotions once cast in sharp detail softening into a sighing, distant grey.

Such is the spell of Elysium, he hazily guesses. The pain of life has no place in paradise, and his life has been so little apart from pain. Some memories remain, though, either unable or unwilling to be pried from his mind—a strange, lilting lullaby in a language he doesn't recognise. The crisp aroma of fresh tea leaves. Hair the colour of a sunset, a shifting mass of reds and golds. A name.

He struggles to remember, and fails.

The ground is soft, unresisting, under the crunch of his boots, and Levi isn't sure if it's been minutes or years when he finally steps onto dry sand. When he looks up, he's engulfed by the radiance of the golden city—Elysium.

"Welcome, hero." The woman that appears before him smiles. She is undeniably beautiful, and yet not quite right; there is something unnatural, inhuman, to the curve of her mouth and the brightness in her cerulean gaze. Her white dress drapes her every curve and flows to the ground, gossamer-like and almost liquid. A closer look reveals that it is constructed entirely of tiny white flower petals, stitched together with a silky, translucent thread—spiderwebs, he realises with an inward shudder.

"I am Persephone, queen of the Underworld, goddess of spring." She lifts a hand, and a sighing, heady breeze envelopes her, making her hair and dress ripple. "Levi Ackerman—I must admit, I expected you much sooner."

"Sorry to disappoint," he says flatly. "Although, you can't really blame me for trying my damned best to avoid, you know. Dying."

"Well, no matter." She lifts an elegant shoulder, in a guise of a shrug. "You're here now. I'm delighted to welcome you into my realm."

She spreads her arms in a dramatic gesture, and the otherworldly light coming off her intensifies to an almost blinding degree. He winces wordlessly. "Could you turn that goddess thing off?"

"Hmm." Persephone casts him a thoughtful look, and then smiles, catlike. "Maybe you'd prefer this, instead, then?"

As he watches, her statuesque form shrinks until the top of her head reaches just below his eye-level. Her elaborate crown of braids, as pale gold as a wheatfield, softens and falls to her collarbone, and darkens into a honeyed copper. Her features blur and bubble over, revealing amber eyes and a too-familiar smile.

The elusive name—he forgot, how could he forget?—is torn from his throat, a ragged whisper. "Petra."

The word is a hook, tugging to the surface a lifetime of memories, and all at once, he remembers.

The first time he'd seen her, she'd been participating in a titan drill. She'd swept through the air like quicksilver, tumbling past her comrades in a graceful choreography of movement, silvered blades like deadly extensions of her slender arms. But far more arresting was the look in her eyes: her amber irises set ablaze from within, bright with ferocity and triumph.

She'd been the first person in the Survey Corps who'd ever been kind to him; who'd looked him straight in the eye and spoke honestly, defiantly. Levi doesn't know exactly when, but she'd cut a hole into his chest with that warm, reticent smile. And for the first time since he was nine years old, he'd allowed himself to be weak.

An initially uneasy truce had grown into a comfortable companionship, and after months of push-and-pull, polite banter turned into shared moments in the corridors, and evening tea sessions turned into late nights spent in his office, fingers intertwined underneath the table.

And he remembers, with startling clarity, the day he'd been walking in a Sina marketplace and found that silver ring, set with a stone the exact colour of her eyes. He remembers how it'd seemed to burn a hole in his pocket after he bought it, day after day, week after week. Impatient. Demanding.  

It'd burned all the more when he'd found her that day, sprawled against the tree, her neck thrown back at a grotesque angle, empty eyes trained at the sky.

"So you do prefer this." The goddess who is not Petra smiles, cold and otherworldly, and the expression looks desperately wrong on her face. "How terribly unsurprising. Humans are all the same, in every age and time...I suppose even being humanity's strongest wouldn't change a thing."

"Is she here?" is all he manages to say. Persephone waves a slender white hand, carelessly.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," she drawls. "But we are not here to talk about your long-lost love, Levi Ackerman. We are here to talk about you, and that all the wildest desires that your fragile little soul can muster." Her lip curls. "You are in Elysium. What is your heart's desire, hero? What do you ask of paradise?"

"Isn't that your job, to figure that out?" he shoots back. She sighs.

"Well, yes, I suppose. I'd hoped you would be different, but you seem just as human as the rest." She pronounces the word in a manner similar to the ferryman, with a kind of amused scorn. "For most humans, it's either love and power—only two things satiate them."

Her ageless green eyes seem to pierce him like knives. "Which do you want, Levi Ackerman? What drives you?"

Kenny once said, everybody needs to be a slave to something. A god, a drug, something to be drunk on, to keep the air circulating through their lungs and to force them to wake up day after hellish day.

Levi doesn't agree. He'd lived years and years without anything, after all; a shell of a man driven by pure survival instinct, by the sheer virtue of a heart that refused to stop beating, all the way until it did.

But Petra had been different. She'd believed in the old stories, the ones in the countryside hymns she used to sing. Of a purpose, a meaning, something greater. Sometimes she'd close her eyes, her lips moving in a soundless prayer, and he'd close his eyes as well and wish with all his heart to believe, too.

He looks straight at the goddess. "Nothing," he replies, truthfully.

Persephone laughs, a too-perfect, bell-like sound, that is so utterly unlike Petra's that it sounds nearly obscene coming from her lips. "Oh, you are just delightful, hero. You're telling the truth, aren't you? That's adorable. And yet—this girl," she gestures down at herself, "I saw her at the top of your mind. Your biggest regret, isn't she, Levi Ackerman?"

He grits his teeth. "So what if she is?"

"She is not here, hero." Persephone smiles, her pale irises alight with an icy glee, and for a second, a wave of cold dread crashes over him—could she have ended up anywhere else? No, she was a soldier, brave to the end. She couldn't have.

"Not anymore. You're too late." An exhale of relief—she had made it here, after all. "Petra has chosen a different path, to be reborn again, and to try for the Isles of the Blessed."

"The what now?"

"It is a paradise above all," she explains airily. "To reach it, you must live and die thrice, and each time reach such heights of heroism or courage that so suffice to earn you entry into Elysium."

Levi exhales, a low hiss escaping his teeth. Of course she would have—she was always so restless, so fierce, a caged bird striving constantly for the sky. She could never stay in one place, never settle down into comfort and domesticity. Elysium would never have been enough for the girl with fire in her eyes and an unquenchable thirst for more.

"What will you do?" She surveys him with her cool, immortal gaze. It rankles him.

"I'm going, too." He straightens, fixes her with a a cold glare. Persephone cants her head to the side, her expression shifting to something akin to amusement.

"Then, will you give up Elysium to follow this girl?" She waves a hand, and the city's glow reaches almost blinding heights, forcing him to turn his gaze away.

"How much does she mean to you, hero? In this city wait so many who you know and love, who have yearned to see you. Your men, who gave up their lives for you. Your friends, who rode with you to their deaths. Your mother, your own flesh and blood.

"Petra Ral has the spirit of a warrior," she adds, almost conversationally. "Do you, Levi Ackerman? You, with your heart that has ever only wanted peace and comfort?” Her lips twist, mocking. “Or is your heroism a mere product of your circumstances? Do not expect to be blessed with Ackerman blood again, this time. And if you fail—you will never see any of your loved ones again."

Some paradise.

"Do I have to make this decision now? Don't suppose I could stop to sightsee first?" His words are gelid but his tone is raw—not that he'd fool the goddess either way, he supposes.

"Of course not. That wouldn't be any fun," she goes, with that chilling bell-like laugh that makes his hair stand on end. He hesitates.

He thinks of Isabel, that trusting, childlike gleam in her eyes. Furlan, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe with that knowing smirk ghosting over his lips. His mother, singing him lullabies in the dark of the brothel. Erwin, who he'd told, in no uncertain terms, to give up his dreams and die.

And Levi knows it isn't there—he'd slid it onto the finger of her corpse, all those years ago, and it'd be little more than tarnished metal against bleached white bone by now—but he feels the phantom heat of the ring in his pocket, scorching hot. No regrets.

He's never had a single regret, except for her.

Levi lifts his head, and meets the goddess's gaze, unfaltering. Decisive. "I'm going."

"If you wish. But know this, hero." Her voice seems to thunder through the city. "If you succeed, upon your third death you may enter the Isles and live a life of eternal bliss.

"But, if you fail to reach Elysium even a single time." Persephone's eyes gleam with a predatory eagerness, "you are doomed to spend eternity in whatever realm you are sentenced to. The light of paradise will be barred to you...forever."

Talk about dramatic.

"Get on with it, then," he almost spits. It figures, it really does, that even in death, he wouldn't get a second of fucking peace.

Persephone casts him a quelling look. He ignores it. With a roll of her eyes, she waves a hand, and immediately, the glow of the city begins to crumble away, even the sand beneath his feet, and he feels himself fall. An incredible wind rises, and he finds himself being shoved backwards, the fields and the cavern roaring in his ears.

"As a final gift to you, hero..." The goddess's teeth flash tauntingly in the fading light, like pearls set against ebony. "I grant you memory."

The last thing he sees is the glint of cruel delight in her eyes.