#between blades and blushes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gumii-bearr · 1 month ago

Text

❝ i'm already yours ❞

summary: megumi learns to be honest with you and tell you what he wants.

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, angst, fluff, some rude guy (ino slander im SORRY), mentions of alcohol, mentions of megumi's ex, fighting, megumi still being emotionally stunted but hes learning, ozawa x itadori mentions, maki x yuta mentions, nobara is a menace, megumi being such a cute lil baby, swearing, smutttt, fingering, mirror sex, missionary, p in v sex, loss of virginity, belly bulge, unprotected sex (dont do that!), pulling-out method, subspace a bit, squirting, aftercare!!

word count: 9.3k

author's note: oh BABY, this one GOOOOOD

chapter one

Megumi Fushiguro is starting to really like you.

Like, more than just ‘like-like’, as you so eloquently put it those few months ago while lying naked in his bed. Megumi’s heart races at the sight of you. Granted, that has always been the case but he’s starting to think about you all the time.

You still sleep in your separate rooms, though you’ll occasionally sneak into his room in the late hours of the night holding your pillow and softly chanting ‘sleepover’. And Megumi’s heart just swells, moving aside in his tiny single bed to make room for you to curl into his side, your leg thrown over his waist and your hand clutching his shirt.

You are his first thought every morning.

Whether you’re still sleeping beside him, cooking breakfast, doing your makeup in your room or already at work or college; you are all he thinks about. Most of the time he thinks about good things, but sometimes he thinks about the not-so-good things.

Like if you’re getting tired of him.

Or if you think he’s too possessive or too clingy or too needy or too much–

“I’m home!” you exclaim from the front door. You have your hands full holding take-out bags, your apron still tied around your waist (Megumi pictures you walking around in public still wearing the brown-coloured apron with the little bear on it and your name tag still pinned to your shirt because you always forget to take it off).

Megumi is quick to appear in the hallway, effortlessly lifting the bags from your hands as you attempt to kick your shoes off, hopping on one foot and cursing like a sailor when they don’t cooperate.

“Hi,” Megumi greets, voice soft and a little tired.

He always waits up for you, even when you have a midnight closing shift and he’s been awake since five in the morning. When he knows you’re finishing late, he makes sure to text you at exactly 12:16, a minute after your shift actually ends. He likes to make sure you’re okay, even if he won’t admit it.

“Hi, Gumi,” you beam, a wide smile on your face as you press up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. You giggle when his face flushes slightly and he averts his gaze to avoid you catching him blushing. But you think it’s so unbelievably cute.

“How ws’ work?” He asks, dropping the take-out bags on the counter in the kitchen.

“Boring,” you whine, dropping your car keys (Megumi’s car keys) in the bowl by the door and shrugging off your jacket. “Some guy had me re-make his coffee, like, five times at 11:55! How rude.” You mumble the last part with a scowl on your face.

“Mm, you should have just pretended to remake it,” Megumi mutters, unpacking the take-out from the plastic bags and grabbing some plates for the two of you.

“Oh, I did,” you reply with a cheeky grin, “after the fourth try, I just shook it and gave it back to him… It seemed to work ‘cus he said it was perfect.”

Megumi gives an amused smile, “that’s my girl.”

You smile sweetly at the nickname, padding over to Megumi and wiggling your hands through his arms to wrap your hands around his waist, pressing your front to his broad back.

“I missed you, Gumi,” you nuzzle into his warmth just between his shoulder blades.

“Missed you too,” Megumi says after a beat, lifting a hand to squeeze your arm still wrapped around his waist.

Megumi seems tired, though his voice is laced with something else a little sadder and you know when Megumi gets like that it’s because he’s thinking. And you’ve been so busy with work and the rapidly approaching final exams, that you haven’t been home as much as you want to.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, twisting yourself around Megumi to peer up at his tired face.

“M’fine,” Megumi replies after a short pause.

You frown, “...what’re you thinking about then?”

Megumi hates how you know him. After the catastrophe that was his confession to you, you’ve been more sensitive to and observant of Megumi’s changes in behaviour. You can now so easily tell the difference between Megumi’s genuine exhaustion and when his thoughts start to spiral into insecurity and anxiousness.

“Just stuff.” Ah, Megumi Fushiguro, a man of many words.

“You wanna tell me about it?” You don’t ever push. Sometimes Megumi does want to talk about it, other times he just wants to curl up on the couch with you to distract himself. It worries you no matter what though.

Megumi knows he should talk about it with you. He’s been trying really hard to tell you about things that are bothering him since when he used to talk about it with his ex, she would rattle off insults about him being too clingy or too nervous or too paranoid.

But you’re different.

You pay attention to him, holding his hand so gently and letting him get the words out on his own, no matter how long it takes or how much he stumbles over his thoughts.

It took him about forty minutes to ask you if you’d be his girlfriend.

“And I… I think that–” Megumi cuts himself off, running a hand through his messy hair and avoiding eye contact with you by staring at the ceiling then the floor.

Your hand holding his is making him even more nervous. Your thumb strokes over his knuckles, your knee touching his as the two of you sit on the couch, the movie you were watching long forgotten.

“Do you… Is it okay with you if we, uh. Fuck… We’re dating, right?”

You chuckle softly, “yeah, we’re dating,” you ponder for a moment. “You’ve been taking me on dates, right?”

Megumi gives an amused huff, “that’s what they were intended as.”

“Okay, then I’m confident in saying that yes, we’re dating,” you giggle.

Megumi always over-thinks the plans he makes. Wondering if you will like the picnic he planned (with the help of Nobara and Yuko who were sending him far too many pinterest screenshots at 3am), wondering if you’d like the restaurant he picked (you’re determined to try almost everything on the menu and claim he’ll have to roll you home), and wondering if you still like him.

He knows it’s irrational. You are always so excited to see him at the end of every day, always so excited to tell him about your day and ask about his even if he spent the whole day at home.

“Will you… Would you want me to be your boyfriend?” Fuck. He asked it wrong. “Wait, I meant will you be my girlfriend?”

The smile that spills across your face is so happy and so bright and you crash tackle him onto the couch, squealing in delight and pressing kisses to his face as Megumi just chuckles (mostly with relief). “I would love to be your girlfriend!”

“Really?”

“Of course! …It was so worth the forty-five minutes of stammering–”

“Hey!”

“M’just thinking about you,” Megumi finally forces out, a nervous pit forming in his stomach as his eyes flicker around the room, unable to meet your gaze.

“Good things, I hope,” you reply, slipping your hands into Megumi’s and playing with his warm fingers. You know deep down he’s feeling anxious and worried about things regarding you and your relationship, you know none of it is malicious because that’s just the way Megumi is; always thinking.

Megumi shrugs, “js’ worried about me being… too paranoid and stuff.”

Your expression softens and you reach a hand up to cup Megumi’s jaw, gently forcing his head to tilt down and his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes flicker between his and you smile softly, “you’re not too paranoid, Megumi. You’re a good person and you worry about doing and saying the right thing.”

Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek, “...you sure?”

“Always,” you beam. “You never have to worry about me… ‘cus I like-like you,” you giggle quietly.

Megumi’s lips tug into a smile, “I like-like you too.”

You press up on your tiptoes, hands snaking around Megumi’s neck to toy with the shorter baby hairs at his nape. His eyes glance down to your lips, still tinted pinkish with the strawberry-flavoured lipgloss you love so much.

You smile before leaning up to press a slow peck to his lips, revelling in the way Megumi gently pulls you closer by your waist, hands so big yet so gentle as they hold you close to his body. You taste like strawberries, some of your lipgloss smearing onto Megumi’s lips.

You chuckle lightly, lifting your thumb to rub the gloss off his lips, “Ozawa asked if we wanted to hang out Saturday night too.”

Megumi moves some of your hair out of your face, “doing what?”

“Mm, bowling and arcade games? Maybe some drinks? I thought it would be nice to hang out with them since we haven’t in a while,” you shrug.

Megumi hums, “if you want to.”

You smile softly, “only if you want to.”

“I never want to.”

“Yeah, I know,” you chuckle. Megumi isn’t exactly social, he would prefer to stay cooped up in the apartment with you, both of you lounging around in your pyjamas and watching movies or playing video games (a.k.a. Megumi playing CoD while you play Animal Crossing).

Megumi watches your expression falter a little and his heart squeezes, “but I’ll go.”

Your face lights up, “really?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “I’ll win you a plushie in the claw machine.”

“A Hello Kitty one?”

“Sure.”

“Yay!”

—

You practically sprint toward Yuko when you see her. She’s sitting at a bar table next to Yuji, his hand resting on her thigh, but she promptly swats his hand away and leaps off the barstool to tackle you in a crushing hug.

“Eee! Y/N, I’ve missed you!” Yuko sways you from side to side, able to bear hug you with how much taller she is than you (and with her chunky heels on). “I haven’t seen you in, like, so long.”

“I saw you three days ago,” you giggle against her shoulder.

“Yeah, but that was work, it doesn’t count,” she tuts, pulling away from you and giving you a disapproving look.

“Right, of course,” you roll your eyes playfully.

Yuko peers behind you at your bored-looking boyfriend who stands a few feet away from you with his hands stuffed in his pockets and your adorable pink kitty bag slung over his shoulder, “hi, Fushiguro… cute purse.”

Megumi sticks his hand up in a half-assed wave, “m’trying something different,” he jokes with a bored expression. Anyone who didn’t know Megumi would think he was being dead serious with how his jokes tend to come across.

Yuko chuckles, “come on, we’ve been waiting for you guys forever.” Yuko tugs on your hand and you reach your own hand out for Megumi, who catches you easily with his long strides and laces his fingers with yours.

“Heeey!” Yuji drawls, “what took you dorks so long?”

“Traffic, you know,” you shrug.

That’s a lie; Megumi was too busy laying you down on the dining room table so he could stick his head under your skirt and eat you out because you looked so damn cute in your pretty outfit.

“Sure,” Yuji gives a Megumi a shit-eating grin, to which Megumi rolls his eyes and moves to pull a chair out for you at the table.

“You want a drink?” Megumi asks, peering down at you as he helps you into your chair.

“Mmm, surprise me,” you smile, pressing a kiss to Megumi’s cheek and inwardly beaming at how his cheeks dust a little pink at your affection, especially in front of his friends.

“Sure,” Megumi ruffles your hair, but not enough to ruin it because he knows you spent a lot of time making it look pretty in the bathroom mirror. Megumi promptly disappears into the huge crowd forming around the bar (given it’s a Saturday night, you’re not exactly surprised).

“You two are so cute,” Yuko nudges your shoulder playfully.

You smile, “he’s cute.”

Nobara makes gagging sounds from across the table, “boo, get a room.”

Maki elbows her, “you’re just jealous ‘cus you don’t have a boyfriend,” she says cooly, taking a sip of her martini.

“Rude,” Nobara retorts, dramatically rubbing her shoulder.

“S’okay, Nobara, we’ll fine you a boyfriend,” Yuko chuckles.

“Ew, no thanks,” Nobara scoffs, “men are gross.”

“That’s not very nice,” Yuji whines, his voice muffled from the mouthful of burger shoved in his face.

Nobara raises her brows and points at him, “see?”

Yuko chuckles and picks up a napkin, gently wiping the sauce and crumbs from Yuji’s cheek. He just sits there with a little smile on his face (if he was a dog his tail would be wagging happily, let’s be honest).

You chat with everyone for a while, finally meeting Maki’s boyfriend Yuta and his friend Inumaki (who doesn’t talk much from what you’ve gathered). But as soon as the boys leave to grab more drinks from the bar (they noticed Megumi was at the front of the line and decided to hijack his spot), Nobara and Yuko lean in toward you while Maki rolls her eyes.

“So…” Nobara drawls, scooting her chair closer to yours.

You look at your friends, the tips of your ears feeling hot from the sudden attention. “What?” You huff out a nervous laugh.

“You and Fushiguro done the ol’...” Nobara wiggles her brows childishly to emphasise her point.

You roll your eyes playfully, “that’s none of your business.”

“So that’s a no,” Maki chimes in matter-of-factly.

You’ve only met Maki a handful of times but you like her. She’s quiet and intimidating but she always offers sound advice as opposed to Nobara who lives for disrupting your peace.

But no, you and Megumi haven’t had sex yet. You’ve come close a few times but Megumi is quick to hold back, instead kissing down your tits and your tummy to eat you out or slipping his fingers into your panties to get you off.

It’s not that you don’t want to have sex. You absolutely do. You don’t want anyone other than Megumi to be the one to take your virginity.

But Megumi avoids it and he always seems to be battling some kind of inner turmoil when you hint at him having sex with you. Whether you ask if he’s got a condom or you reach for the waistband of his pants– he’s quick to redirect you and you want to ask him, you really do, but it makes you wonder if he’s unhappy with you or maybe he simply doesn’t want to have sex with you.

You try not to be insecure about it because Megumi loves being between your legs, he loves touching you behind closed doors and worshipping you with kisses and lovebites. And he loves it even more when you’re on your knees in front of him, his hands wrapped around your hair and pulling into a makeshift ponytail so you can take him into your mouth uninterrupted (you’re getting pretty good at it, you think).

But it still makes feel insecure.

“You should do it whenever you’re ready,” Yuko smiles warmly, her hand holding yours. You love your best friend to pieces, always the voice of reason in these situations.

But the thing is; you are ready. It’s Megumi who holds back.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, squeezing Yuko’s hand gently.

“I got you this… thing,” Megumi suddenly appears behind you, placing down a fizzy sweet-looking pink drink topped with edible glitter and a little umbrella. “The bartender said it was popular.”

You smile in delight, “oh it’s so pretty! Thank you, Gumi,” You turn in your chair and plant a hard kiss to the underside of Megumi’s jaw.

“‘Welcome,” Megumi replies, nursing his own drink (which looks exceptionally normal compared to yours).

Megumi pulls a chair around to sit beside you, basically forcing Nobara to move over (who attempts to put up a fight but Megumi simply moves her himself). You rest your head on Megumi’s shoulder and he goes a little stiff at the simple form of affection.

Megumi isn’t big on PDA, he prefers to show you how much he cares for you in the privacy of your apartment or when he’s confident that the two of you are alone. But you like showing him off, holding his hand, peppering his face with kisses, hugging him from behind as you wait in line at the grocery store. You’re a little snuggle bug and Megumi is slowly, slowly, getting used to it.

“You gonna win me a Hello Kitty plushie, right?” you tease, wrapping your hands around Megumi’s muscular arm.

“Even if it takes me five tries,” he replies with an amused smile.

It takes him more than ten.

“This shit is a scam,” Megumi grunts, giving an annoyed kick to the neon purple machine filled with soft pastel plushies.

You stand beside him laughing into your hand, “s’okay, Gumi–”

“I’ve spent like forty dollars,” he huffs, “on one machine.”

“Come on, we should play something else,” you tug on his arm, “I already have about four of every sanrio plushie anyway,” you shrug.

Megumi’s jaw clenches and he sighs in frustration, eventually giving in to your protests and letting you tug him off the claw machine to play some other game. The arcade is huge, there are plenty of other games to spend forty dollars on instead of a goofy claw machine.

“We should play space invaders– oh! Or DDR!” you beam.

“I don’t have the coordination for DDR… or the energy,” Megumi grumbles.

You giggle, “right, let’s play space invaders.”

Megumi trails behind you the whole evening, playing games with you and absolutely refusing to let you pay for any of them. You always pull some coins out or your card and he promptly swats your hand away or wraps his strong arm around your middle, pinning your arms to your sides and lifting you away from the machine so he can pay.

You appreciate him doing this with you considering he doesn’t like being social all that much (all his friends think it’s crazy you managed to get him to come along tonight). But really, you know Megumi isn’t doing it because he wants to, he’s doing it because you want to and it makes your heart swell and your body want to melt into a puddle of happiness.

“Oh, boo, this is a scam,” you mutter to yourself as you attempt to win yourself a My Melody plushie in a new claw machine. Megumi was dragged off by Yuji to play some shooting game with Yuta and Inumaki and you snuck off to play another claw machine (and pay without him knowing). You saw that the plushie looked loose and you were sure you could win it if you nudged the claw just right.

You gave up after three tries and grabbed your bag to rejoin your boyfriend and his friends on the other side of the arcade. You spot your pretty boyfriend quickly, giggling as you hear him bickering with Yuji over not shooting straight.

“Uh, hey,” a voice appears beside you.

“Hm?” You peer to the side and notice a taller guy wearing a beanie looking at you, he’s holding a plushie out toward you.

“I saw you trying to win that pink bunny thing…” he holds out the My Melody plushie you were attempting to win.

“Oh,” you beam, “that’s really sweet!”

He laughs softly, “that’s okay… I’m Ino.”

“I’m Y/N–”

You suddenly feel a looming presence behind you. You peer up at Megumi, his eyes harsh and narrowed toward this guy talking to you.

“Uh, hi?” Ino forces out.

“Can I help you?” Megumi deadpans, his jaw slightly clenched in annoyance.

Ino barely offers him a glance, “I was just giving this pretty girl the plushie thing she was trying to win–”

“She doesn’t want it,” Megumi forces his lips into a condiscending smile.

Ino looks between the two of you before clearing his throat, “boyfriend, huh?”

“Mhm,” Megumi hums, his hand snaking around your waist and grabbing at your hip.

“Right,” Ino nods, “sorry, man.” He doesn’t seem sorry with how he mockingly laughs at Megumi’s protectiveness of you.

“Whatever,” Megumi huffs.

Ino promptly disappears, handing the plushie off to some other drunk girl on his way out. You chew on the inside of your lip before turning to Megumi, “Gumi–”

“What?” Megumi spits, a little harsher than he meant it.

You press your lips together, “nevermind,” you sigh, forcing his arm off you and leaving to join Yuji, Yuko and the others, Megumi trudging behind with his hands in his pockets and feeling his mood rapidly plummeting into a mix of annoyance and insecurity.

Megumi’s jaw is tight with tension and he feels like shit because he didn’t watch his tone when he talked to you. He gets protective of you and perhaps a little jealous. And he knows it’s stupid being annoyed and upset over not being able to win you a fucking plushie from a children’s arcade game, but he promised you and this guy managed to do it in one try and actively sought you out to give it to you.

“You two okay?” Yuko asks curiously, almost startling Megumi as he stands at yet another claw machine.

Yuko saw the way your mood immediately changed after your interaction with that guy, instantly becoming a little sad and not as bubbly and talkative as your little group moved around to play more games.

Sure Megumi wasn’t always super affectionate toward you in public, but he wasn’t even staying near you or holding your hand anymore.

“Fine,” Megumi retorts, eyes still glued to the pink plushie he’s trying to win you.

“...Did she upset you?”

“No.”

“Did you upset her?”

“I don’t know,” Megumi shrugs.

Yuko sighs, “maybe you should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Yuko lets out an amused laugh, “Fushiguro, she always wants to talk to you.”

Megumi feels a pang in his chest at that, feeling bad that he didn’t even attempt to drag you off to the bathroom or outside so he could talk to you. He’s still trying to get better at the talking, he was just fucking embarrassed.

The machine suddenly chimes, a little song playing as a plushie falls in behind the collection door.

“Hey, you won,” Yuko beams.

Megumi bends down, pulling the plushie out of the machine and scoffing; it wasn’t the My Melody plushie he as aiming for.

Yuko laughs, plucking the bored-looking penguin plushie from his hand and holding it up, “I see the resemblance.”

“Who even is this?” Megumi takes it back, squeezing the soft toy in his large hands,

“It’s Badtz Maru,” Yuko replies, “looks a bit like you.”

“Mm,” Megumi makes a noise of annoyance.

Yuko nudges his shoulder, “she might like it even more,” she sings softly.

Megumi walks around the arcade looking for you, peering around corners and looking through the claw machine section in search of you. He can’t find you. He spots Itadori, Inumaki, Yuta and Maki but can’t find you anywhere. He asks Yuko and Nobara and they shake their heads with a shrug.

How did no one know where you were?

“Where’d she go?” Nobara looks around for you.

“I’ll call her,” Yuko offers.

“S’okay, I’ll call her,” Megumi replies, pressing on your contact and holding his phone to his ear. The call rings before your voice message comes through. Megumi grunts in annoyance. He starts to worry as he texts you a few times, asking where you are. You don’t respond in the record speed you normally do and he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

He walks around the arcade a few more times, then he finally spots you.

He relaxes a little at the sight of you, but it’s short lived when he spots that fucking guy again. He’s leaning against the wall, basically trapping you in a corner as you attempt to curl away from him, your back flush against the wall.

“U-Uh, I should get back to my friends,” you laugh nervously, your hands wrapping tightly around the strap of your purse.

“Lemme walk you t’them then,” he offers.

You look around anxiously, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Uh, no thanks, I can go myself–” Ino suddenly puts a hand on your upper arm.

Megumi surges forward, slightly blinded by anger and annoyance as he pushes the guy away from you, forcing some space between you. Ino stumbles back, clearly intoxicated with how he struggles to catch himself, his hands flailing around to catch himself against the wall.

“She said back off,” Megumi spits, forcing himself in front of you protectively.

“I ws’ just talking to her,” Ino slurs back.

“And she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Megumi retorts, forcing him onto his feet and half-pushing him away. “So fuck off.”

Ino scoffs, “whatever, bro. Was just tryna be nice.” Megumi rolls his eyes at the shitty excuse, jaw clenched angrilly until the guy finally leaves, stumbling off back to the bar.

Megumi suddenly hears you sniffle and his expression instantly softens, shoulders relaxing as he spins around to look at you. You have your back pressed against the wall, your face a little flushed with embarrassment. Your hands are pressed to your face, hiding yourself from him.

“Baby?” Megumi coos, reaching a gentle hand out to pull your hands away from your pretty face.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, your bottom lip quivering as your eyes gloss over with tears.

Megumi’s heart sinks and he sighs, pulling you to his chest to crush you in a hug, a hand stroking the back of your hair. You press your face into his chest, staying there for a moment and melting into his warmth.

“M’sorry I was mean,” he says against your hair.

“You weren’t mean,” you mumble, “I was being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb, Y/N. You thought he was doing a nice thing for you,” Megumi replies. He pauses for a moment before deciding to admit his thoughts to you, “...I was js’ jealous.”

You pull away from him, a bit of your makeup staining the fabric of his black shirt. “Why were you jealous?”

You never thought Megumi could be jealous. He always seems so laidback and bored that you assumed everything was water off a duck’s back to him. But you were obviously sorely mistaken.

“M’always jealous when it’s you,” Megumi shrugs, eyes glancing away as he admits it to you, his face dusted a light pink.

You grin cutely, “you like-like me,” you poke his chest.

“Shut up,” Megumi mumbles, earning a soft laugh from you. He suddenly remembers the Badtz Maru plushie in his other hand. He lifts it up toward you, “I won this for you.”

You pout, “really?”

“Mhm,” Megumi nods, handing it to you.

You squish the softness in your hands before giggling, “looks like you.”

“I don’t see it,” he grumbles.

“He could be your son!”

“It’s a plushie, Y/N.”

Megumi has a winning streak after the two of you make up, winning you a bag of sweets, a pair of earbuds in that impossible to win string-cutting game, and wins you a Hello Kitty plushie that is almost half the size of you.

You carry it around with a big smile plastered across your face and earning jealous glances from other people who have obviously been trying to win the massive toy. You walk around with it under your arm, your other hand in Megumi’s.

“You guys ready to go?” Yuji asks, “‘cus I am officially broke.”

Yuko giggles, “okay, lets go, baby.”

Yuji plants a kiss on Yuko’s nose, then another on her cheek, then another on her forehead before peppering kisses in a circle around her face, his hands resting on her hips as she giggles.

You smile softly at them, your hand unintentionally squeezing Megumi’s.

“Yuck, get a room!” Nobara gags.

Megumi watches you smile at your friends, resting your head against his shoulder. He feels his heart thumping in his chest, suddenly feeling the urge to show you the same affection. He doesn’t like PDA, he thinks its gross and people should just save it for the privacy of their home. But he can see how people like it, being able to show off their partner in public so people know they belong to them and no one else.

You feel Megumi’s eyes on you and you peer up at him, “you okay, Gumi?”

He suddenly presses a soft kiss to your lips, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You smile against his lips and he pulls away, planting another kiss to your cheek then your hair.

You grin at him when he pulls away from you, “what was that for?”

Megumi shrugs, “I just wanted to.”

You point your finger at him, “who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

Megumi rolls his eyes, “oh, ha-ha.”

—

You sigh with relief once you kick your heels off at the door, your shoes landing haphazardly in the corner as you lug your new plushies down the hall. Megumi follows you, dropping his keys in the bowl on the side table in the hallway.

You and Megumi have made up, but Megumi still has something on his mind. He knows exactly what it is but he feels weird bringing it up again since you’ve already worked it out.

But you can tell there’s something on his mind.

You drop your plushies in your room, putting your Badtz Marui plush on your bed so you can sleep next to it (it can be your Megumi stand-in when he’s busy or away). Megumi is sitting on the couch when you come out of your room, he’s scrolling on his phone absentmindedly, jaw tight with tension.

You pad over to him, gently pulling his head back to rest on the back of the couch. You peer over him, your hands gently resting on his shoulders.

“You okay, Gumi?” You ask, lifting your hands to stroke your thumbs across his jaw.

“M’fine,” he replies.

You frown, “don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Not tell me,” you sigh. “I can tell when you’re sad or you’re thinking about stuff, I want you to be able to talk to me.”

“I really am fine, Y/N,” he huffs, pullin away from your hands and getting up off the couch.

“I’m not your ex, Megumi,” you stare at the back of his head.

Megumi visibly stiffens, “...I know that.”

“Do you?” You ask without thinking, “because I really care about you n’ I’ve been trying to be patient and understanding but I–” you cut yourself off, sighing sadly.

Megumi turns to look at you, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek like he always does when he’s nervous. “I know you’re not her, Y/N. You’ve never made me feel the way she has.”

Your shoulders relax and you glance away. You still get insecure about Megumi having an ex, mostly because she’s got to see parts of him you haven’t yet, but in the same breath, she was awful to him and is part of the reason he’s wound so tight and struggles to talk.

You don’t even think when it falls from your mouth, “why don’t you want to have sex with me?”

Megumi’s eyes widen and he feels his heart in his throat. He stiffens, unable to form anything other than– “W-What?”

You sigh, “I know it’s stupid. I just… I wanna have sex… with you. And it just seems like you don’t want to… with me.”

Megumi’s heart aches painfully. Of course he wants to have sex with you. He wants to every day like some kind of maniac, but you’re too good for him (at least that’s what he thinks). And it’s important to him that your first time is perfect and special and Megumi can be a fucking wreck a lot of the time, unable to communicate simple things with you, unable to convey his feelings in a way that’s coherent and not total gibberish.

He can’t shake the fear of him being too needy and paranoid toward you. You’re so special to him and he fears losing you. Fears that one wrong move will send you packing or make you hate him.

“I…” Megumi squeezes his hands into fists, trying to release the tension inside his chest. “Y/N, I do want to.”

You peer up at him, eyes glossed over, “...I’ve beent trying to like… hint at it but you–”

“I’m scared,” Megumi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I mean… I’m not scared, m’just worried.”

Your brows furrow, “worried?”

“I want it to be special for you,” Megumi admits, “I’m just always thinking that I’m not special enough for you.”

Your heart cracks and you feel like crying and wrapping Megumi up and crushing him in a bear hug and covering him in kisses. Because how could he not think he’s special enough for you?

“Gumi,” you sigh out his nickname and he wipes his eyes. You pout, padding around the couch to press your body against him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug.

He hugs you back, chin resting on your head gently.

“You’re perfect for me, Gumi,” you murmur. “There’s no one else I trust more in the world than you.”

Megumi squeezes you a little tighter, “I’m not good at talking.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I know.”

“I want to be better at it, ‘cus you’re my priority now,” he says, heart beating rapidly in his chest at his confession. “And I’m worried that I’m too paranoid or needy… I don’t want to– I can’t lose you.” You pull away from him a fraction, a tear slipping down your cheek. Megumi catches it, “don’t cry. Please.”

You sniffle, “I don’t want to lose you either, Megumi.” You wrap your arms around his neck, his strong arms still wrapped around the small of your back. “But you need to talk to me, even if you think it’s stupid… Because I tell you stupid stuff all the time and you still listen.”

Megumi chuckles softly, “yeah, I know.”

You cup his cheek, beaming as he leans into your touch, “offer yourself a little kindness, Gumi. You’re too hard on yourself.”

He knows you’re right, you’re always right.

He nods, “I’m gonna try,” he sighs.

“You’re already doing good,” you praise, “I’m still going to be here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

You grin, “I promise.” You hook your pinky with his.

“Then I have something else I need to tell you,” he forces out.

You frown, “okay…”

“I didn’t like that that guy grabbed you,” Megumi huffs, “it made me really fucking mad.”

You chuckle softly, “you handled it, though.”

“But still,” Megumi’s jaw clenches. “Asshole.”

“You don’t like that some other guy touched me?”

“I wanted him dead right then and there,” Megumi’s arms squeeze around you a little tighter.

“Mm, that’s pretty hot,” you giggle.

“...Hot?” Megumi seems confused.

You shrug, “yeah… I like that my boyfriend wants me all to himself.”

Megumi pauses, any words that he could possibly think of getting caught in his throat. Your giggles die in your chest as Megumi’s steely eyes bore into you, an intensity settling in the air.

“Gumi?”

Megumi’s eyes flicker down to your lips, “m’gonna kiss you.”

You grin, “I’d never be opposed to that,” you whisper.

Megumi’s lips are on yours in an instant, his big hands resting on your hips and pulling you against him. One of his hands rests on the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. He forces a whine from your lips when his tongue swipes across your glossed lips. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, slowly backing you up against the wall and knocking some poor unsuspecting vase onto the floor.

It smashes on the ground and you yelp in surprise, “G-Gumi–”

“We’ll fucking clean it later,” he grunts, forcing your jaw to tilt upward so he can kiss you again. Your hands squeeze the fabric of his shirt, your tits pressing against his chest as he grinds his hard-on against your thigh.

The two of you awkwardly crash through your apartment before you finally get to your bedroom door, giggling at how eager Megumi is to get you onto your bed. Your bed is a little bigger than his and always makes it easier for cuddle sessions and Megumi always looks so cute with his dark hair and dark clothes in your pretty pink, white and pastel room.

Your hands tug at the hem of his shirt, pushing the fabric up his abdomen and chest. Megumi helps you, finally pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it across the room. His lips connect with yours again, forcing you back until the back of your thighs hit the mattress. Megumi lets go of you, letting you fall back.

You giggle, scooting yourself up your bed and eyeing your strikingly hot boyfriend with his pretty abs out and staring down at you like he wants to devour you. Megumi just stares at you, his eyes raking over your pretty spread thighs, peeking at your lacy pink panties under your skirt, almost salivating at how pretty your tits look almost spilling out of your top– his eyes meet yours, your pretty eyes wide with lust and just pure adoration.

You are his favourite person.

“I love you.”

You pause, lips parting slightly as Megumi’s words finally sink in. You press up on your elbows, eyes widening, “what did you say?”

Megumi presses his lips together, wondering if he should back track. But no, he needs to be honest with you and himself, he owes it to you and to himself. “I said I love you.”

“You love me?” you pause, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

Megumi crawls onto the bed, body hovering over yours and his hands pinned on other side of your head as he just looks at you, taking in every part of you. “You told me I should be honest.”

You beam, “Megumi–”

“Don’t say anything,” he says softly, “js’ let it stay out there for a minute.”

You close your mouth, a smile tugging at your lips. Megumi grins at you, the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, before he leans his head down, pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and so loving, he’s gentle with you as one hand comes up to cradle your face.

He pulls away after a minute and you smile, “I love you too.”

Megumi pauses before he lets out an amused laugh, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

“Say it again,” he teases.

“I love you,” you whisper, holding his face in your hands. Megumi leans down, pressing a wet kiss to your neck. You tilt your head up to give him more access as his teeth gently nip at your skin.

“Again.”

“I love you, Gumi,” you whine out as he sucks on a particularly sensitive part of your neck, leaving a angry red mark on your skin.

Megumi’s hand slips under your top, pushing it up your tummy and over your tits. You help him pull your top over your head, leaving you in your skirt and your pretty pink lacy bra that makes your boobs sit like pretty soft pillows against your chest.

“S’beautiful,” Megumi mutters, trailing kisses down your neck and down between your tits, his hand snaking under your body to unclasp your bra.

No matter how many times Megumi sees you naked, you still get nervous under how intense yet adoring his gaze is. You feel your heart hammer in your chest as Megumi toys with your hardened nipples, his eyes occasionally flickering up to your face to catch your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whine.

Megumi chuckles, “like what? Like I love you?”

“Like you want to devour me,” you correct with an amused laugh.

“Mm, no promises,” he smiles, pressing a peck to your lips.

Megumi’s large veiny hand squeezes your soft breast, kneading the flesh in his hand while flicks his tongue over your hardened nipple, leaving hot wet kisses all over the pretty mound of skin. Your hand tangles in his hair, forcing his mouth down further. He gives a gentle bite to your skin, forcing a pretty whimper from your lips.

Megumi kisses down your tummy, one hand still squeezing your breast while the other trails up your thigh and underneath your skirt. You feel your skin prickle at the feeling of his gentle fingers trailing across your soft skin, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your body.

You tug on Megumi’s wrist, forcing him back up your body, “what is it, baby?” He asks breathlessly.

You press a peck to his lips, “I wan’ you to touch me,” you murmur against his slightly chapped lips.

“Oh yeah?” Megumi asks, his tone a little teasing.

“Mhm,” you nod quickly.

Megumi chuckles, trailing his hands up the inside of your thigh and pressing his fingers against the damp patch forming on your panties, “mm, someone’s excited,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you mutter, forcing his lips back onto yours.

Megumi rubs against your clothed clit, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers at the sounds you were making because of him. The smell of your arousal lingers in the air of your room as Megumi forces your legs to spread open a little more, finally slipping his hand down your panties to feel your slick pussy against his fingers.

“S’wet, princess,” he murmurs against your cheek.

“All f’you,” you whine as Megumi nudges your clit with the tip of his middle finger.

Megumi pulls his hand from your panties, forcing you to whimper at the loss of contact but he quickly slips his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling the soaked fabric down your legs and tossing them onto the floor.

Megumi manhandles you into his lap, laying his upper body against your headboard and forcing you to sit between his legs with your back to his chest.

“W-What are we doing?”

Megumi gently holds your jaw, forcing you to look at the mirror across the room in front of your bed, the same mirror you take your cute little outfit of the day photos in every day. You suddenly feel embarrassed seeing yourself so vulnerable. Your legs are spread, one knee hooked over Megumi’s muscular forearm while the other is propped up, forcing your soaked pussy lips open.

“Look how pretty you are,” Megumi mutters against your ear, his large hand squeezing at your tits.

“Gumi, this is embarrassing,” you whine.

Megumi presses a kiss to your cheek, “just watch.”

You press your mouth closed as Megumi trails his fingers down your tummy, dragging two of his fingers down your glistening slit. You throw your head against his shoulder as he nudges your neglected clit, fingertips circling the little bundle of nerves agonisingly slowly.

“F-Faster, Gumi, please,” you moan, your hands squeezing Megumi’s strong thighs.

“Shh,” Megumi coos, “be patient, baby.”

Megumi slips his fingers down your slit, pressing his middle finger against your sopping hole. Your thighs instinctively spread apart further and Megumi slowly slips his finger inside you, his long finger dragging against your gummy walls.

You whine, hand gripping his wrist as he starts to curl his finger inside you, pressing against that spongy spot inside you, “m-more.”

Megumi chuckles at your desperation, pressing a second finger into you. You whine at the burning stretch, subconsciously grinding your hips down on his fingers, your ass unknowingly grinding on his hard-on in his boxers.

“Look at you,” Megumi mutters against your ear.

Your eyes flicker up to your reflection. Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your baby hairs are stuck to your forehead and Megumi’s eyes are glued to your cunt, watching his thick fingers disappear inside you. You whine, pussy clenching down on his fingers as he fucks them into you.

Megumi presses against the spongey spot inside you, the ball of his palm rubbing against your clit and making you fucking dizzy. You feel your tummy start to burn, your nails scraping against Megumi’s clothed thighs as your hips grind and roll against his hand.

“G-Gumi, m’gonna cum,” you whimper.

“S’okay, baby,” Megumi coos, “cum f’me.”

“N-No,” you force out, your hand wrapping around his strong wrist in an attempt to stop him from forcing an orgasm out of you.

“No?” Megumi slows his movements, the lewd squelching sounds in your room silencing as he gently pulls his fingers from your sopping pussy. “What’s wrong?”

You pant, whimpering as the burn in your tummy fades and you feel so fucking pent up. Megumi’s face is laced with concern as he turns you on your side in his lap. You give him a tired smile, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please,” you whine, “I need your cock, Gumi.”

Megumi grunts, “fuck, baby.”

“Please,” you beg, “please, I’ll be s’good.”

Megumi cups your face, pressing his lips hard against yours. Your swollen lips move against his, your hand tangling in his messy hair. Megumi pulls away from you slightly, pressing his arousal-soaked fingers against your tongue. You whine when you taste yourself on his fingers, your tummy jumping with excitement as you suck his fingers clean.

“Such a good girl,” Megumi praises, kissing your forehead.

Megumi forces you onto your back, your body bouncing against the soft mattress slightly. Megumi rests his thighs on either side of your hips, tugging your legs over his hips. You’ve never had your pussy this close to his cock and your mind is reeling with excitement.

Your shaky hands reach for the waistband of his pants but Megumi quickly forces your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together, “you said you’d behave.”

“Mm, you can’t blame me for being excited,” you whine pathetically.

Megumi only chuckles at how damn cute you are before he forces his pants down his hips, kicking them off across the room, leaving him in just his boxers. There’s a wet patch forming on his boxers and your mouth salivates at the idea of him finally fucking you with his big cock that you’ve had in your mouth many times before.

“S’big,” you compliment, wrists wriggling against his large hand still pinning them above your head.

“You sure about this?”

There’s a sudden intense seriousness in the air. You peer up at Megumi and he looks nervous, his teeth nipping at the inside of his bottom lip. He lets go of your wrists and you reach up to cup his face, forcing his steely eyes to meet yours, “Megumi Fushiguro,” you call softly.

“Mm?”

“I love you,” you sigh. “There’s no one I want more to take my virginity than you.”

Megumi lets out a shaky breath, “...you sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” you grin.

“Because I really want you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours, Megumi.”

Megumi lets out a huff of a laugh, leaning down to pepper kisses across your forehead and down your nose to your lips, forcing a soft giggle from your chest.

Megumi reaches down slowly, pulling his boxers down his hips until his cock springs free, the angry red tip leaking with precum. You peer down at his pretty cock, eyeing the vein you trace with your tongue every time you suck him off, noting how heavy it is as it struggles to hold itself up.

Megumi sighs, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and pumping a few times, his eyes never leaving yours. You cup his face, forcing him to kiss you one more time before he sits up, scooting his hips closer to yours.

He eyes you one more time, looking for any sign of regret or hesitation. You don’t offer any, eyes wide and almost sparkling with anticipation. Megumi holds his cock and lets it slap against your tummy, the tip almost reaching your belly button.

Your brows furrow and you wonder what he’s doing. Then it sort of dawns on you.

He’s sizing you up.

“M’gonna be right here,” Megumi presses the tip of his finger to the spot just below your belly button. His eyes meet yours and all you can do is meekly nod, your heart slamming against your chest. You knew Megumi was big but now that he’s fucking sizing you up and showing you where he’s gonna be inside you, you’re starting to get a little nervous.

But fuck you want him inside you.

You buck your hips up and Megumi chuckles, “s’eager.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you grumble playfully. Megumi smiles, scooting your hips up and leaning over to quickly kiss your forehead one more time.

“You tell me if it gets too much,” Megumi says seriously. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You smile, “you won’t hurt me.”

Megumi nods slowly before gently gripping the head of his cock, rubbing the precum-covered tip against your swollen clit. Your hands grip the sheets and you bite your lip to keep the whines at bay. Megumi breathes heavily as he dips his tip down to your soaked hole, your arousal slipping out of you and dripping down your ass.

“Look at me,” Megumi orders softly.

You open your eyes, not realising you’d pressed them closed.

“Please,” Megumi sighs, “I wanna watch your face when I put it in.”

God, this fucking guy is gonna be the death of you.

He presses the tip into your cunt, groaning softly at your tightness as your pussy swallows his tip eagerly. Your thighs instinctively spread open to accommodate his size. He presses into you slowly, letting your tight cunt stretch around him to get used to his size.

“G-Gumi–” you whine out.

“Y-You okay, baby? What’s wrong?” Megumi stills his movements.

You pant slightly, chest heaving, “feels s’good.”

Megumi sighs a little in relief, hand coming up to cup your jaw as he presses his thick cock into you. He’s over halfway when you let out another whimper, your thighs shaking slightly with the stretch.

“Still okay?”

“Mhm, almost in?” you ask.

“Just over halfway.”

“Halfway?!” you force out.

Megumi chuckles before pressing his fingertip to the space between your pretty pussy lips and your belly button. “M’about here.”

“Holy fuck,” you pant. “So fucking big.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he chuckles. “It’ll go straight to my head,” he jokes.

“Mm, s’true.”

Megumi laces his fingers with yours on the sheets, his steely blue eyes staying glued to your face as he pushes the rest of the way in, your soaked pussy sucking him in. Once he finally bottoms out, you let out a shaky sigh at the fullness.

“F-Feel okay?” Megumi’s voice shakes, feeling like he’s gonna cum like a damn teenager with how tight you are around him.

“Mm,” you screw your eyes shut, “you can m-move.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh,” you nod slowly.

Megumi leans down, lifting your arms and forcing them to wrap around his neck. He plants a kiss to your lips before pulling out– you whine– then he pushes himself back in. Your arms wrap around his neck, forcing Megumi’s head to rest against your shoulder as he pulls almost alllll the way out before plunging back into your tight heat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Megumi groans, his hips snapping against yours as you hook your ankles together behind him, your thighs squeezing his waist. “S’good, princess.”

You moan and whine against his neck, feeling like he’s rearranging your fucking guts with how big his cock is and how hard he’s fucking you. It almost seems like Megumi needed this more than you with how his hips snap hungrily against yours.

You tip your head back, mouth falling open as he forces moan after moan from your pretty swollen lips. Megumi reaches a hand down between your bodies, rubbing his thumb over your neglected clit, forcing you closer and closer to orgasm.

His cock drags against your gummy walls, slick pooling around the base of his cock and soaking the sheets below as your nails drag against Megumi’s strong back, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

Megumi hisses at the feeling, groaning into your hair as he snaps his hips into yours a little faster, thumb still rubbing your clit, your room is filled with lewd squelching sounds, your pussy so wet and tight around him.

You feel the white-hot pleasure of your orgasm approaching, your belly burning as you arch your back off the bed, letting go of Megumi’s shoulders to grip the sheets.

Megumi suddenly sits up on his knees, lifting your hips in his strong hands, creating a new angle that makes you scream out in pleasure. His tip fucks against your cervix, surely leaving a bruise. You feel him in your tummy, his sheer size forming a bulge in your tummy.

“F-Fuck, look at you,” Megumi groans, eyeing the bulge in your tummy.

You toss your head from side to side, your toes curling as Megumi reaches for your hand, forcing you to press down on the bulge in your tummy, his hand over yours.

Then you just cum. There’s no warning as you gush around him, your vision going stark white as you spray your orgasm across Megumi’s pelvis, his thighs, your own thighs and all over the sheets.

“Fuck, did you just squirt?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. You’re mumbling incoherent noises as Megumi fucks you through your high, his hips snapping harder and harder against yours as he chases his own orgasm. You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Megumi feels his orgasm fast approaching.

He pulls out of you with a quiet pop, quickly jerking himself off, your arousal making his cock slippery as he cums across your tummy. Hot ropes of cum paint your abdomen and tummy, Megumi panting as he squeezes the base of his cock.

“Mm, you’re fucking perfect, sweet girl,” Megumi praises, panting as he comes down from his high.

“Mm, Gumi,” you whine, voice quiet.

Megumi gently lowers you onto the bed, crawling up your body to cup your face, “are you okay? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “mm-mm, felt s’good.”

Megumi sighs with relief, “we gotta get you up, you have to pee and I gotta clean up–” he peers down at the utter mess you’ve made of the sheets, “–somehow.”

“Sleepover?” You beam.

Megumi chuckles, “sleepover.”

Megumi carries you to the bathroom, running you a warm bath. The two of you share a bath together, Megumi gently washing you hair for you while you make him a bubble crown. You’re obviously sore with how you limp down the hallway to Megumi’s room, clutching your pillow under your arm.

You rest your head against Megumi’s chest, his fingers gently smoothing over your wet hair and tracing down your bare arm.

“Any regrets?” He asks curiously.

“Mm, no,” you reply with a smile. “You made me squirt my first time having sex… I think you have to marry me,” you giggle.

Megumi chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “mm, maybe one day.”

You giggle, sitting up to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet girl,” Megumi pauses, “what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That,” Megumi points to the bored-looking penguin plush he got you. It’s pressed to your chest right between your boobs.

“Oh, you mean your son?”

“Y/N,” he groans. “Get that thing out.”

“I will not!”

“I’ll throw it out the window while you’re sleeping.”

You gasp, “don’t do that to your son!”

“It’s not my son!”

author's note: HEHEHEHEHEHEH

taglist: @starpachinko @2ukika @sukunabish @somethinglikero @wannabewolf @milliex01x @princessa143 @hrithi11 @katsukita69 @slayzzz @arcanefeelings @shirabu-k @izzzzzzig @zah2890 @evergumi @aerareads @flashilyquinn @raedollsstuff @happylildeath @anormieee @l1v1ngzomb1e @kimkimoruo @sunnyf4lls @saekolust @kalulakunundrum @xastoriaaurax @feliaeae @sleepyxzn @raya4643 @kaidostwin

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the-faceless-bride · 9 months ago

Text

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

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pseudowho · 3 months ago

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18+, MDNI, angry!Nanami, unkempt!Nanami, loss of social propriety and sloppy about it

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Nanami Kento was always pristine; never unkempt. Except, for the one time that he was. That one mission. The mission. The mission of no return. Once you'd seen him like that, you weren't sure you could ever see the cufflinks and starched collars the same ever again.

And god knew he couldn't shake how you looked at the end, with your hair in his hands, and his name on your tongue, and your lips kissed plump.

He had arrived late, that evening; not his fault, you noted, as his car skid to a halt in the hammering rain-- you had both been called to this after-hours emergency.

Kento looked frazzled, irritable, and tugged his tie knot as he jogged through the downpour to meet you. The tatty awning over the lean-to against the old school building, did little to keep either of you dry.

"Sorry--" Kento huffed, jostling against you to squeeze under the awning, still suited but reluctantly so, "--sorry, I was just about to have dinner, and-- why the hell have they called you, too?"

"Two person job, apparently," you peeved, flat. Kento shot you a glance of weary annoyance, which you reflected straight back at him. Cursing at the rain water dripping down his neckline, and scowling back at the building, he sniped.

"In there, is it? Let's not waste any time, I'm already on Overtime and I don't have the patien--"

"Not there." You tapped your foot atop a manhole cover, a heavy metal grate, "Here."

Kento froze. He did a double-take. His annoyance loomed over you, tension fizzling across his shoulders and his fist white-knuckled around his blade.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

You nodded, bending to lift the manhole cover aside. "As a car crash, Kento."

Kento shoved the manhole cover the rest of the way with his foot, and a growl. His handsome face twisted, and his stomach rumbled, and you felt yourself pale under the anger thudding off him.

"I'll go first," he clipped, his beautiful brown shoes beginning to click down the ladder, with his blade between his teeth and his voice muffling around it, "and we'll get this over with."

Hours, hours later, Nanami Kento flung himself out of the manhole, soaked to the bone, spitting curses like venom. You followed him, a drowned rat, and watched the finely woven threads of him fall apart at the seams.

Kento stalked through the streetlamp-lit rain to his car, his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets. His hair was ruined, his glasses shattered, and his suit soaked and torn, sticking to the peaks and planes of his electrified body.

"Come along," Kento barked behind him, and you jolted to attention, drawn in by the jabbing authority in his voice. You watched him, feeling a blush creep up your neck, as he ripped his clothes off with utter abandon, and replaced them with sweatpants and a t-shirt stored in the boot of his car. His slim eyes glared, hands flinging, and he thrust an enormous hoodie at you in stony silence.

Even his rage was gentlemanly, and he turned his back on you while you stripped to your underwear, and changed. You felt indescribably naked in just a hoodie and so, like any good man, Kento bustled you into his passenger seat, and joined you, warming the car up.

Kento drove without speaking. You side-eyed him, and though you knew his irritation was not for you, you knew one wrong word would incite a clipped sarcasm. Kento skid the car to a halt, eventually, and turned to you, flat-eyed and cold.

"What do you want?"

So many ways that question could be answered, and they fought for precedence in your mouth. In the end, you just looked at him, dumbly. Kento huffed, a smirk playing on the edge of his mouth. He rolled down his window, to a drive-through speaker, and repeated himself.

"What," Kento enunciated, "do you want?"

Whatever you ordered, despite your appetite, couldn't have been a quarter of what Kento did. You found yourself stunned again, to see Kento sat in sweatpants and a t-shirt, still damp and mussed, cramming a burger into his mouth at breakneck speed. He'd have been a quiet eater, but the satisfied noises he made were sinful. He tip-tapped his third box of fries, and tipped the last handful into his mouth with a happy groan.

You felt heat pool in your belly to see him looking like, well...just a guy. Just a big, hungry guy, pissed off with work and slumming it. You didn't realise you were staring until Kento reached over without looking, and urged your hovering hand closer to your mouth.

"Eat," he grumbled, "I know I'm not exactly civilised right now, but don't let it put you off your food."

You swallowed hard, chewing through a chicken nugget, "It's, uh...its not that." Kento shot you a challenging side-eye, "It's...kind of sexy. Seeing you so...so comfortable."

Kento froze. He dropped a pinch of fries back into the box, closing his eyes and shielding them with one long-fingered hand. You felt the prickling, queasy heat of embarrassment spread from your stomach up. You opened your mouth to apologise, mortified, before Kento spoke, his voice gravelly.

"Don't say something like that," he warned, low and groaning, "don't say something like that-- when you're in my clothes in the passenger seat, and all of my decency has gone out of the window--"

You looked at him. He looked at you. He swallowed hard to feel his cock twitch to life, his grey sweatpants barely hiding how he swelled. You reached over to swipe mustard off the corner of his mouth with your thumb, and licked it off, not breaking eye contact. Kento's eyes darkened, and he almost laughed.

All pretence of good society was shattered. By the time the doors closed on the lift up to Kento's apartment, he had lifted your thighs around his waist to carry you, and taste your lips on the way. You and Kento staggered into his apartment like this, spinning, thudding into the walls, knocking a vase off the table, kissing, nipping, biting, groaning, unhinged and unsupervised.

You squealed with laughter when Kento threw you onto his sofa, and climbed on top of you, rolling along until you were on top and he was on top and you were on top and he was on top and--

"Fuck--" Kento rumbled into the plush of your belly, "--fuck-- sorry-- utterly disrespectful--" He groaned again, cursing and leaving his mark in blooming petals, to hear you whimper.

"--disrespect me harder--"

"Shit-- yes please--"

Kento practically ripped his hoodie over your head, his hands clutching at your bared body with trembling force. He panted, shuddering. His eyes pleaded with you; as if they had to. With gritted teeth, he dragged your hips to the edge of the sofa, and swiped your panties aside to delve his tongue into your sweet heat to continue his meal.

You thought (in a nebulous way, between whimpering bursts of pleasure), that Kento must have gone mad. He couldn't restrain himself, even, from hooking his weeping cock out above his sweatpants, and stroking himself in time with his wet, hungry suckles on your clit. Kento had thrown off the shackles of propriety with a roar, and he cried his relief into your cunt like you were aqua vita.

"Ken--" you cried, your voice cracking to hear him answer you with pre-cum slick plap-plap-plaps of his fist and rusty moans, "Ken-- can't-- ungh, fuck, I'm gonna--"

Kento didn't think twice, delving his free hand between your thighs to sink two long fingers inside you, yanking your orgasm from you with devastatingly accurate, come-fucking-hither-strokes.

You arched off the sofa with a breaking cry. Kento released his cock, now angry and needy, with a shudder, just to hold you to his mouth so he could taste you through your orgasm. You twitched, jerking and incoherent; Kento dragged it out until you convulsed, your ecstasy made sharp with involuntary little moans of his name.

"--not done disrespecting you--" Kento hissed, pressing you back as you moved to sit up, "--not until I'm dripping out of you, just for me to fuck it back in again-- good girl--"

You clapped your hand over your mouth, in disbelief at the utter filth coming from this beige man. Kento scoffed, a smirk on the corner of his lips. He pressed his sweatpants down just enough to free his heavy, aching balls. He stroked his cock head between your folds, making you twitch every time his slit caught on your clit, giving himself a sly pussyjob and bearing over you to rumble against your lips.

"I thought the tie would have been a dead giveaway," Kento whispered, and before you could answer, filled you to the brim with one smooth roll of his hips. You squealed again, and Kento clapped his hand over your mouth, as if you catch the sound and bottle it for later. You tangled your fingers in his hair, your cries muffled behind his hand. Kento dragged his cock back out of your slick, inch by torturous inch.

"Hold onto something-- pull my fucking hair-- good girl--"

Kento took you at a relentless pace, blond hair flopping in his eyes, still scratched and bruised from your mission, and his eyes alight with bliss. You fell apart beneath him, rammed against the back of the sofa, feeling him belly deep, tugging his hair and sinking your teeth into his forearm until he hissed with pleasure. You mewled, blinded by the insistent thrusts to your core.

"F-fuck m-meee-eeee-eeee, ohhhh-hhh, Ken-- where's Ken-- where's Kento gone--"

Kento laughed, breathless and stilted, and plaiting his fingers with yours to pin your arms above your head. His pace never faltered, and he nuzzled into your throat, scoffing, "--same man-- same-- same man-- just one bad day away-- shit, I won't last-- squeeze me harder-- unnnnghhh l-- I'm gonna come--"

Kento's fingers fumbled against your clit, sloppy and harsh and dragging another orgasm from you, and coming with a bark as you dragged his out of him. As promised, he filled you, with ropes of seed so long and thick, that his balls must have received the same let go memo.

You watched Kento through his ecstasy; buckled over you, a sweating, stone-carved beauty, released from the confines of his cage. He shook with exertion, eyeing you with shrewd reproach.

"You tell no-one," Kento growled, tickling your ribs when you began to laugh, his cum dripping where you remained joined, "you tell no-one--"

"Or what?" You squealed, tugging him down by the hair. Kento bit into your neck, burying himself deeper inside you in challenge. You felt him twitch back to life, and shivered, a bunny in the jaws of a bear.

"Or I'll put my suit back on."

"You animal--"

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sobbingscripter · 2 months ago

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Tags: [mlw][mdni][arranged marriage][friends to lovers][loss of virginity][unprotected p in v][just the tip][oral f! receiving][fingering][aged up][nipple play][UNDERSTAND by keshi for the fluff (trust)][petnames][ra's you little matchmaker you]

"I'm sorry, what?" Bruce's brows raise, nearly meeting his hairline as he stares at Jason, who only nods his head enthusiastically.

"Damian had a bride. Like.... They were married, had a ceremony and everything. It was actually really beautiful, I cried." Jason hums softly before extending his legs out in front of him, booted feet crossing at the ankles.

"And you want us to get this girl, why?" Tim questions, a brow raising.

"Damian's lonely." Dick states. "So... It would do him some good to be around someone he knows. Like... Properly knows."

"For his birthday." Barbara chimes in. "He's turning 19 and he's a virgin. And he's definitely not gay."

"The turtlenecks could've fooled me." Jason snickers softly, before glancing at Bruce's turtleneck, and raising a brow, almost suspiciously.

"We'll get the girl." Bruce hums.

—♱—

"Is this... a house?" Your voice is quiet, almost meek and timid as you look around at the architecture of Wayne Manor, before your eyes move towards the light switches. And you gasp.

"Lights?" You breathe out. "You have magic within your walls?"

They don't know how to react. They don't know if you're joking or if you're serially disadvantaged.

Until you let out a snort of laughter.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you." You snicker, your hands tucked into the pockets of the oversized hoodie you're wearing and you look around.

"You have a lovely home, Mr Wayne. It's lovely to see that there aren't a lot of staff." You smile. A polite, and genuine expression and Bruce damn near melts because shit, maybe Ra's picked good for Damian.

"That's the opposite of what Damian said." Bruce hums and you feel your heart nearly stop in your chest as you repeat the name.

"Damian?"

"Beloved?"

Damian's voice is a quiet murmur, the thick, wooden spined book tumbling from his limp hand as he stares at you, emerald pools wide and pink lips parted to let out the shakiest of breaths.

It feels like time stands still.

You hadn't seen him in so long. The last you can remember is waking up to the sound of screams and clashing blades, blood seeping into the Egyptian rugs that covered the floorboards and you'd found assassins slain.

Body after body after body.

He looks older. Boyish features remain but tinged with the sharpness of maturity, broad shoulders and muscles in place of lean, slender limbs. But that couldn't be anyone else.

The scent of oud and cinnamon musk clings to the air as he takes tentative steps towards you, shaky hands cupping your cheeks and making you look up at him.

You have the same mischievous eyes, your iris flecked with that metallic hue that always seemed to suit your eyes, your face still fits so perfectly in his hands. You're taller than you were, you weigh a bit more, your hips are fuller. Grabbable. There's a sensual dip in your waist that he'll be sure to explore later.

And Damian's forehead rests against yours, feeling the contact of your skin and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"I missed you." You whisper quietly, your voice filling the silent air of the foyer and Damian nods his head.

"As have I." He murmurs quietly. "More than you could imagine."

—♱—

You sit anxiously on the edge of Damian's bed and you watch as he steps out of the ensuite bathroom, steam rising from his tanned skin and rivulets of hot water dripping between the cords of his muscles. His hair is damp, a towel low on his waist before he moves towards you, standing between your thighs and he looks down at you, a hand lifting to cup your cheek.

Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, tilting your head ever so slightly, capturing his thumb between your full lips. And you watch the way that slow blush creeps up his features.

"Still so easy to fluster." You tease him softly and you watch as his eyes narrow.

"Still such a raging asshole." He retorts, before leaning forward, pressing the softest kiss against your forehead.

You lean back against the headboard, Damian's head resting on your lower belly, fingers idly tracing patterns on your hips, exposed by where the T-shirt had ridden up.

"Your head is still fat." You murmur, your voice a soft sound against the sound of Gotham's pouring rain, streets and sidewalks soaked with rain and slippery to the touch.

Bruce had given Damian the night off, and it would be a lie to say Damian doesn't intend to make the most of the night.

Whether it be losing his virginity or falling asleep in your arms like when times were... Ridiculously simpler. When his focus was taking lives and not protecting them.

"I can see the hair on your forearms." Damian mocks, and he watches as you tuck your hands behind your back, a snort of boyish laughter tumbling from his lips. He reaches behind your back, pulling your arms forward before pressing the sweetest kisses to your palms.

"I'm just kidding." He reassures quietly. "I like that you're a Sasqua—" Damian's words are cut off when you push his head back into your stomach, and you can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he's going to argue.

So you card your fingers through those raven strands, scratching his scalp lightly and you watch the way the muscles in his back relaxes, and a minty sigh leaves his lips.

"You're lucky I love you." Damian mumbles, his voice muffled by the slight pudge of your belly and your fingers halt just a bit in his hair.

"Still ?" You question, almost incredulously and Damian lifts his head, staring up at you from beneath furrowed brows.

"The years apart doesn't diminish the fact that you're my wife." Damian murmurs. "My grandfather may have been a dick but he made a good choice to make my best friend my bride."

Your heart swells and thuds. Your eyes feel the tiniest bit misty and almost immediately, your free hand reaches for the bedside lamp, switching off the light and shrouding the bedroom in shadows and silvery moonlight.

"Are you crying?" Damian asks, a tinge of humour in his voice as he sits up, your thighs tossed over his and his hands move to your cheeks.

"...no."

You sniffle, tears dropping down your flushed cheeks in fat droplets, rolling until Damian's thumbs brush them away. His hands are warm against your cheeks, palms just a bit rougher than they were and you feel the way his lips press sweet kisses to your eyelids.

"You complete me." Damian whispers. "Emotionally, not physically." He adds, almost like it needs clarification and you let out a teary snicker.

"Wow, thank you so much for clarifying that." You answer sarcastically, before your hands move to cradle his face, just like you used after a particularly hard day of training and you watch the way the moonlight illuminates his features, and you watch his eyes soften at the action.

Eyes closing to commit the sensation to memory once again and he lets out an almost unsteady breath.

Leaning forward to rest his cheek against your chest, before feeling the familiar feel of a ring that you've chosen to keep on a chain instead.

"It's felt rather... Peculiar without it." Damian murmurs under his breath, reaching for one of the drawers of his bedside table, and tugging it open, and he rifles through the bits and bobs until he finds the tiny satin satchel he was looking for.

And he opens it up, turning the light on but on a dimmer setting, before he pulls the ring out of the baggie.

A tungsten carbide wedding band, two thin gold strips on it, divided by flakes of gold and emerald, encapsulated.

Reaching for the clasp behind your neck, you slide the necklace off and remove the ring. Your wedding ring.

An ornate gold band, the centre stone being an upside down, pear-shaped emerald, accented by two diamonds on either side.

The rings had been too big for either of your fingers, so you'd simply held onto them. But now, you're both old enough.

Old enough to know that the arrangement could be nullified, and old enough to know that neither wanted that.

Damian slides your ring onto your left hand, the act so intimate as he stares up at our face, scanning for any hints of hesitance but he only sees adoration. A hopeful expression of love.

And you mimic his actions.

And there isn't a lick of doubt in his expression, not even a flicker of hesitance, just pure... Relief. Contentment. Adoration.

Damian interlocks your hands with his, enjoying the warmth of the metal against his fingers and he presses his lips against yours in a sweet, adoring kiss that lingers for far longer than one of the friendly pecks you'd give back then.

He savours the feeling of you near, his bare chest pressed against yours, only kept apart by the soft, cotton fabric between you two and he pulls back.

Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, kiss-reddened lips parted to let out sweet symphonies of quiet breaths.

And you see his pupils dilate even more in the dim light, as his hands disentangle from yours, moving to rest on the swell of your hips.

You pretend that you don't notice his shaking hands as he reaches for the edge of the T-shirt you've snatched from his closet after your shower, and you pretend that you don't notice the way those same shaky hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebble while his knee slots between your thighs, kisses slowly pressed against the soft skin of your neck.

Your hands move to rest on his biceps, manicured nails tracing over the faintest of scars in his perfect flesh and you feel him gently guide you to rest back against the thick, Egyptian covers, his hands anxiously roaming along your sides.

"Does this feel good?" Damian questions softly, his lips sucking a mark into the sensitive skin right over your pulse and you swallow, nodding your head.

You wet your lips when he lifts his head, looking down at you and his muscular thigh presses against your core, feeling the way your pussy throbs against the stretchy fabric of his boxers that you'd stolen.

Damian's sweet when he's guiding your legs to rest over his broad, muscular shoulders.

Pressing sweet kisses along the flesh of your inner thighs, hands gently kneading the fat of your hips with so much reverence that it makes your toes curl.

Especially when his hands move to aid him, thumbs pressing against the puffy, plump flesh of your pussy and parting the lips, watching the way your slick and slippery folds twitch and Damian takes a deep breath.

"How much teeth do you suppose I use?" Damian questions softly, and the amount of stress that runs through your body is insane.

"None at a—or..... Oh..."

Your lips form the cutest little 'o' shape when Damian drags his tongue through your folds, juniper gaze locked on your expression that he finds as a mixture of surprised and aroused.

Your hands move to his hair, fingers carding through them affectionately. And Damian takes that as a sign that he should keep doing that. Long strokes of his tongue have your fingers clutching at his hair, brows knitting into a twitchy frown, your hips nearly bucking.

And you need to stifle a loud and pitchy gasp when he circles what he assumes to be your clit.

"Is that it?" Damian asks softly, before you nod your head, swallowing down every sound that possibly threatens to spill in the quietness of the manor.

And Damian lifts his head, locating the exact spot he just licked and committing it to memory.

"But.... Not all girls' are like... On the exact same spot.." You breathe out quietly, still trying to teach him while he's slowly flicking his tongue along your needy clit.

"I only need to know where yours is." Damian hums, the low vibration causing the pleasure in your belly to build like an accumulating wildfire. And your lashes flutter, a whine slipping past your lips as Damian sucks at your clit, teasing the little button before he lifts his head.

His chin is wet with your slick, and he spits at your hole, watching the way your pussy pulses the tiniest bit before he goes back to lapping at your clit. And one of his muscular fingers slowly push past the ring of muscle, and his brows furrow at the way you twitch around his fingers.

And your toes curl just as his finger crooks.

"Shit, shit, shit..." You whimper, your chest heaving as you feel your orgasm building and Damian adds a second finger, slowly fucking you with his digits, eyes watching the way your body shivers and shudders.

And you grab a pillow, muffling your moan as you cum around his fingers, and Damian swallows, licking up any of the mess and keeping your hips anchored with one of his forearms, resting across your pelvis.

Damian slurps, the sound is lewd and it makes your hips buck harder.

He's gentle. Licking at your clit, teasing the bud until it peeks out from beneath the hood, oversensitive and slippery against his tongue, before he lifts his head.

His chin is shiny in the moonlight that pours in and the low light of the lamp beside the bed. He peels off the towel around his waist, tossing it to the carpet into a fuzzy puddle before he watches your bleary gaze lower.

He's... Thick. Perfect in literally every way. A flushed tip, leaking beads of precum down his long shaft, a pretty and prominent vein on the underside and Damian gives himself a few shy strokes.

Not to excite himself, obviously. Just so the sound fills the silence, and he lets out a shaky breath, before he brushes his tip along your sloppy folds.

The feeling is... Surreal.

Your toes feel like when you put your lips against a TV, a muffled gasp slipping from your lips everytime his slit catches against your clit and Damian shifts, resting your legs against his thighs.

"Are you ready?" Damian asks quietly, his free hand fiddling, thumbing your clit sweetly and you nod your head.

"I'm ready." Your voice is a soft murmur. "Are you?"

And he nods his head, before notching himself at your entrance.

"Tell me if hurts." Damian instructs, before he slowly pushes into you. It's... Uncomfortable. The slightest pinch of pain, but not unbearable and your hands fist at the sheets, before Damian stops abruptly.

Taking your hands and placing the on his tightly toned lower belly, the faintest and thinnest sliver of dark hair between your palms.

"This is so you can.... Control the depth." Damian mutters.

Control.

Damian's never given that to anyone. Especially not over his own body.

And slowly, Damian pushes until his whole tip is nestled snugly inside you.

"H—...How is it?" You mutter shyly, your gaze locked on where the two of you meet, and he swallows.

"Tight... Warm... It's so wet..." Damian shudders, a cool sweat prickling across his skin. "You're so perfect."

"Would you rate it 5 stars?" You question teasingly and he lets out a laugh. A cute snort of laughter and he leans forward, his hands moving to rest on the mahogany headboard, fingers absentmindedly tracing the decadent carvings in the wood.

"4.5." Damian answers. "Because you asked me to rate it."

You watch his stomach muscles flex, his abs rippling beneath his tawny skin before the watch on his wrist beeps. And he lets out a quiet groan, looking down at you with those sweet, adoring eyes.

"I'm sorry— I—" "You don't need to explain." You reassure quietly, kissing Damian sweetly when he leans close enough and he pulls out of you.

"I'll be back before you know it, beloved."

—♱—

"Why do you smell like pussy?" Jason questions over the intercom, his voice staticky over the connection.

"How dare you?" Damian scowls, bringing his hood over his head, obscuring his face in the shadow of the fabric.

"I smell like my wife's pussy. Get it right."

#sobbingscripter #smut #dc comics x you #dc comics smut #dc smut #dc comics #dc #damian wayne #damian wayne smut #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x reader

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freyito · 9 months ago

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ꜰʀᴇʏᴀ ꜝ ⨟ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ inspo: this is fun to think about

✧ a/n: for those who don't know exactly what this means (also shoutout to freya the god of love), there are 3-5 'types' of (romantic) love. eros, romantic love, ludus, playful love, pragma, enduring love, and then there's mania which is obsessive love and agape which is universal love. The last two can sorta bend in a familiar or platonic way as well as romantic.

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, proofread

✎ wc: 3.3k

⎯ Aventurine

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Aventurine prefers to flirt, to have fun, be a little silly with his love. After all, life’s too short to not enjoy it. He wants a partner who will not only put up with his games but also join in and enjoy it, someone to tease who will tease back. He would love a deeper connection as well, but before that comes fun.

“Honey, I’m hooome~!” Aventurine calls from the apartment door, making his way to the kitchen. You weren’t cooking anything, simply sifting through the fridge for a snack. His arms wrap around your waist as the scent of his near overbearing cologne washes over you. He presses his lips to your neck and peppers it with a bunch of fleeting kisses, mumbling about his day into your skin even though you didn’t ask. When you dared to try and pull away, he only pulls you closer, pinching at your waist and grinning. “Awhhh, are you not happy to see me?”

He doesn’t give you time to reply, hauling you up and turning on his heels. You don’t get to complain, not before he practically throws you on the bed and throws himself onto you. He wastes no time finding your most ticklish spots, waiting for you to ask for mercy. “I want a proper welcome home!” He exclaims, like you hadn't given him enough attention. Not like you can do what he wants while you do your best not to laugh, squirming underneath him, trying to break free from his tickle attack.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. While Ratio isn’t necessarily the best at showing his affection, he is head over heels for you. Absolutely and irrevocably in love, and it only grows with each passing day. He’s quite the gentleman when you get past his cold demeanor, and is quite by-the-book.

You had met him in his classroom after his classes, to give him the lunch you had made him. He regards you with a brisk ‘mh’, You are used to this reaction, and you don’t take it to heart. He tells you he’ll be home a little later, and apologizes. Silence stretches between you two before you tell him it’s alright and start to leave the room.

“I am sorry, my love,” He grabs your wrist before you can fully turn around. He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, eyes locked on yours as he apologizes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Dinner tomorrow.” He’s so blunt with it, like you have no choice. But he says it with such sincerity, an emotion that is hard to get from him. His eyes linger with yours as you nod, before letting you go and returning to grading his student’s papers.

⎯ Boothill

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Boothill loves with his whole heart, but he just can’t take it seriously. He’s always teasing you, whether it be sultry words, little touches, anything. He loves making you blush.

Tonight, you two are at some bar he had dragged you to, and it’s quite lively. Which gives Boothill ample time to show you off, his arm around your shoulders or your waist whenever someone comes up to talk to you or him. He leans in ever so closer with that toothy grin, eyes half-lidded as he whispers something about how cute you look tonight. When he sees even the tiniest blush begin to bloom, he amps up his flirting tenfold.

Over the entire night, he makes little comments that turn into big flourishes of his love for you, small, teasing touches that trail from your shoulder down to your hands, interlocking your fingers. He leans in close and whispers against your ear, not necessarily just flirts, literally anything he can think of, like that you guys need to put soda on the grocery list or something. It’s the way his breath fans over your ear that causes goosebumps to riddle skin. You try and hide your blushing face, but he grabs your chin and tilts your head to meet his gaze, using his hat to shield your faces from the rest of the patrons and pressing a kiss to your lips.

⎯ Gallagher

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. While Gallagher may not sound like it, he’s romantic by heart and looks for a partner he can spend his life with. He wants to settle down, enjoy something that lasts. And he prefers a partner that does the same.

He was lounging on the couch at home, a rare sight normally. When you walked into the living room, he greeted you with a lazy smile, reaching for you like he wasn’t a 30 something year old man. He grabbed your wrist and guided you into his arms with a yawn, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. He lets out a deep, rumbling ‘mmm’ as he does so, sharing no other words.

Any time you try to break free from his hold, whether you wanna eat or need to go to the bathroom, he groans. He doesn’t say much, whispering quiet ‘love yous’ here and there, and if you really do have to get up, he practically follows you around. He’s rarely ever clingy, he’s probably one of the most independent people you know. He’s only like this when he has something on his mind, and marriage isn’t exactly a far off thought…

⎯ Sunday

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. Sunday is a textbook romantic. A dinner and a movie, roses, have you home by ten, he’s the whole package. Anything you could want, you will have. There’s always a fresh bouquet of flowers in the vase in your living room, and perhaps a new poem for/about you every month.

Whatever he gave you in reality, he gave you tenfold in the Dreamscape (especially since he can). This includes his affection, where you two are hidden away… somewhere in Dewlight Pavillion. Somewhere where Sunday promises no one will find you two. It’s not as if you two are doing something lewd, he’s nestled up against your chest, that’s about it. But, he’s been yearning for some time alone with you since forever. With how busy he has been, he hadn’t got a moment alone with you.

“I missed you.” He states. His work is secondary to this moment, as he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your palm, before nuzzling his cheek into it, all the while his eyes stay on yours. He has you flustered by the way he does it so desperately, yet so… carefully. He needed this, but he didn’t want to allow himself to lose his composure. So, the best he could do was steal you away when you were bringing him his mail, leave you breathless with a few tender kisses and gentle touches, and lead you back to your way out of the Pavillion.

⎯ Argenti

AGAPE ; UNIVERSAL LOVE. Love, devotion, and worship go hand in hand in hand for Argenti. He loves with his heart, body, mind, and soul. He loves unconditionally, every little bit of you, even the ground you walk on. Where the water wet your skin, where the dirt kissed your hands, he loves and loves and loves.

You two are dancing in your kitchen, to a soundless beat. The only rhythm coming from your barely-heard footsteps and the clank of Argenti’s armor as he shares such a moment with you. It is rare that he is home, always out on some adventure across star systems, but it is always a celebration when he is. Atleast, he makes it a celebration. Laughter fills the room as you try your best to keep up with his steps, the man elegant and flawless, as usual, while you stumble just a tick behind.

“You’ve got it, I know you do.” Argenti coos as you do your best to fall into his steps, still stumbling every so often. He dips you down, eyes searching yours with that content smile plastered on his face, before he pulls you up and chest-to-chest with him. His eyes sparkle with mirth, spinning you two around as if your kitchen was a real and proper ballroom, swaying gently. His eyes closed then, humming some tune, a song lost to time that only he remembered. He had hummed it on your longest days and on your darkness nights, the days you weeped and sobbed in his arms, and the days you had turned to him with such a bright smile. A tune that resembled something homely.

⎯Sampo Koski

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. While Sampo can be quite the romantic, he prefers to tease and play with you instead. Sure, he could dance with you all night long, bring you fresh roses everyday, but where’s the fun in that? He finds it much more fitting to flirt with you on end, brag a little about his ‘sales’, splurge a little for you every now and then.

You walk into your bedroom to find Sampo laying on his side, his head propped up with his hand, a rose in his mouth. He gives you a mock-sultry glare while you stand there, dumbfounded, halfway between disgust and laughter. Rose petals decorate the bed, and the room, and you tell yourself that you’ll have to remind him later that he’ll be cleaning it up.

For now, though, he beckons you closer, and when you do, he pulls you onto the bed quickly, spitting out the rose, and peppering your face with kisses. The room fills with laughter as you do your best to break away, but he continues this torrent of kisses, rarely taking a breath. When you complain that ‘it’s too much!’ he only ups the ante, kissing your neck, your shoulder, any exposed skin he can find. You simply just have to accept your fate, now…

⎯ Jing Yuan

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. He who has waited for an eternity yearns for an eternity spent in one’s arms. Jing Yuan has lost most of those dear to him, if not all. While he knows life will reach its end, he cannot help but wish he had someone to spend the rest of it with.

It is very rare for Jing Yuan to be free for even an hour, and yet here he was, a whole day to himself. He’s lounging in his room, basking in the sun while you lay in his arms, reading a book. You two barely share any words, yet the silence between says it all. It’s a comfortable feeling, something that feels like home, something he cherishes every second of. It’s one thing to find home within the Xianzhou, but it’s another to find home in someone’s arms.

He tilts his head as he looks down at the book your reading, contemplating if he wanted to pull your attention away from the book, or not. With a soft ‘hmph’, he makes his decision to leave you alone, choosing to nuzzle into your hair instead. You don’t react, which he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer as he closes his eyes. Perhaps an afternoon nap would do him some good…

⎯ Blade

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Not even death could keep Blade away from you. His own suicidal tendencies, his never-ending want to die, his need to die, his own voice begging for a means to an end, it all washes away when he sees your smile, as if the sun is greeting him once more after such a wretched eclipse.

He knows he has loved in the past, and yet when he recalls that feeling, Blade is only met with a burning feeling akin to rage clawing its way through his chest. He prefers to not think about it much, focusing on Elio’s script and whatever mission he’s been dispatched on. Yet, when he’s met with you laying in his bed, messing with his phone, waiting for him, a different kind of feeling weaves its way into his heart. Something warm, a kindling, of sorts.

His own voice quiets when he allows himself to feel that feeling, peace, perhaps? He’s quick to brush it off, shove it down along with any other emotion that was daring to well up, and takes a seat next to you. When you look up and beckon him closer, he doesn’t accept. But, he does lean in, and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. It’s a rare display, you can’t remember the last time he even dared to hold your hand. And before you can question him, he’s gone, out of the room, leaving his phone behind, like always.

⎯ Luocha

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. Luocha is quite the romantic when he wants to be. Since he spends most of his time wandering, he doesn’t get to see you very often. But when he returns home, he loves nothing more than to share stories of his travels and hold you in his arms. You are his anchor, what brings him back to reality when his thoughts drift to the distant churches and candle wicks that give way to angry flames…

He finds you sleeping on the couch, phone in hand, twitching every now and then, but making no real reaction to any sound. It was clear that you were waiting for Luocha to come home, and had succumbed to sleep. Luocha had texted you 4 days ago that he would be home, and you yourself had no idea how long you had been up, the past couple of days had skewed your perception of time. By now, it was around 3:00 am.

With a soft huff and an even softer gaze, Luocha scoops you up into his arms and carries you to your shared bed. He’s careful, doing his best to be as quiet as possible as he carries you, but you still wake up. You mutter a slurred ‘Luocha?’, and all he does is shush you, shaking his head and greeting you with a warm smile. You don’t get time to protest as he lays you down on the bed, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead, before turning on his heel and exiting the room. He will join you later, as much as he wants to lay beside you now, he’d like to get settled back in, first.

⎯ Dan Heng

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Dan Heng tends to retreat into himself, a lot. Ever since he revisited the Xianzhou, this has become a habit of his. He doesn’t exactly push you away, but his ‘time to think’ seems to overtake your guys’ alone time. Regardless of it all, he always comes back to you, finding home safe in your arms.

He wakes in the dead of night, his past life’s memories catching up to him once more. He doesn’t cry or scream, his breath is shallow, as he listens to the silence of the hotel you two were staying at. He stills for a moment, the scars of the past fading into a blissful nothingness, before he looks down at you. Sleeping peacefully, completely unbothered by Dan Heng’s sudden awakening.

His body relaxes as his mind quiets finally, the simple sight of you reminding him that the past is the past, and nothing more matters right now. He settles back into bed, taking a moment to admire your face, hesitantly reaching out. His fingers brush against your cheek, trailing to your hairline, tucking a strand behind your ear. You don’t even flinch, but you instinctively curl up closer to him. Dan Heng graces your sleeping form with a rare smile and a huff, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

⎯ Gepard

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. While Gepard may be shy about certain things, that doesn’t mean he is lacking in the romance department. His job may keep him away from you for quite a while, but he always finds his way back to you.

It had been quite a while since you and Gepard had a proper date, or even night out. Oftentimes, he’d come home late into the night, too exhausted to even eat, and all he would want to do is cuddle up next to you in bed. He loves his job, he truly does, even if it means coming home at near 2 am and waking up at 5 am. Of course he wants to spend as much time with you, but some days are harder than others, and he wants to stay as healthy as he can.

Tonight, however, he’s come home early. At 6 pm to be exact. A completely normal time to get off work… if he wasn’t the captain of the Silvermane Guards. Before you can even ask why he’s home so early, he hurriedly asks you out on a date. His face is only slightly flushed, and the minute you say yes, he lights up like the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. He takes you out to one of the nicest, fanciest restaurants in Belobog, and he just cannot contain the giddy smile all throughout the night. He stares at you as if you are straight out of a movie, eyes practically shining everytime you laugh.

⎯ Caelus

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Caelus doesn’t take himself too seriously, even if there’s a stellaron housed inside of him. So why take love too seriously…? Not that he doesn’t love you, no, he adores you. But between all this trailblazing and saving planets and researching stellarons and what not, he doesn’t get much of a chance to be a little silly. And you, luckily, are his escape from that.

He barges into your room with the brightest smile known to man, his hair a little messy, and what you can only hope is soot dusting his cheeks and hands. Caelus looks so proud. Too proud. In his hands he holds what looks to be a worn out raccoon plushie, also blessed with a heavy dusting of soot. You stare at him blankly as he does not explain himself, simply waltzing over to your bed.

“Our son.” He states, so proudly, as if he had brought the thing into the world on his own. Desperately in need of some fun today, you play along, telling him ‘our son needs a bath.’ And Caelus looks at you as if you have offended his entire lineage (which, apparently, is two people now.) He jokingly chastises you for calling your son ‘dirty’, and “How could you say that to him!?” “He’s just a baby!”. Though, eventually after hours and hours of him threatening to put his sooty hands all over you, he washes the stuffed raccoon. And himself.

⎯ Welt

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Welt has seen lifetimes pass, and lifetimes more come into the universe. He’s vowed to himself to love whoever comes into his life as long as he loves, to love hard and never back down. He dreams of church bells ringing while the scent of roses fill the air, rather than the mournful gong of those ringing bells, signaling someone's end, or the bittersweet smell of lilies.

He holds you closely tonight, practically bathing in your cologne, eyes closed as he hums a tune from some far off timeline. It is a quiet, tender moment, one that is very rare between the two of you. Welt could spend all his time on the Astral Express and still never have enough time for you. He is greedy in that way, seeking any time he can with you, even if it is only for 5 minutes.

He himself doesn’t know why he’s feel especially wanting tonight, but he doesn’t busy his mind asking himself why. Time and space is infinite even as constricting as it feels, and he knows better than to keep himself occupied with such silly questions. The day he catches himself not missing you, yearning for you, is the day that he will wither into stardust.

#⁺◟freyito #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #boothill x reader #gallagher x reader #sunday x reader #argenti x reader #sampo x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #luocha x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #caelus x reader #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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dawnoflemuria · 1 year ago

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"I love you but I can't say those words":

I would drown even the stars for you.

When I look at you, I just think about how much things have changed since we first met.. my how time flies..

don't you think looking at me like that will give me the wrong impression?

oh, by the way, don't be late for dinner.

I don't think I would have rather done this with anyone else..

did you ever think we'd grow so close?

how many times have I had to nurse you back to health now?

maybe you should sit this one out, I've got it for now

why haven't you told me this before?

Please don't do anything reckless

Will you sit with me?

When was the last time you ate??

Anything that you have to say to me, you can say infront of [B]

I know you're not feeling the greatest, that's why I brought you [insert thing]

you just love to give me hell, don't you?

You're important to me.

I don't wanna lose you / I can't bare to lose you

do you need some help with that? allow me

Hidden Confessions:

I don't think you understand just how much you really mean to me.

I know how you are, and that's why I've decided that you won't do this alone.

You can't get rid of me that easily (after an argument)

don't think so low of my loyalty to you for I would burn the heavens if it mean saving the stars in your eyes.

you've always been the one person who I could never stay mad at

I cherish the memories we make together

I will never let anything or anyone hurt you

you won't take them away from me

don't you dare lay a finger on them!

if you so much as make a move on them I will kill you where you stand, you hear me?

so precious, our time together

I love whatever this is between us.

do you ever think about where we'll be in 10 years?

careful now, you just might make me blush talking like that

Sappy Sentences:

I don't think the heavens or the hells below could fathom the level of love we share.

If there were a way to bottle your love, I'd get drunk on it every day

Sometimes all I really want is to lay like this, with you in my arms forever.

For us eternity doesn't mean for the rest of time. Eternity is just for the rest of our lives together.

I don't remember giving you my heart, but I know it's safe in your hands.

Watching you get hurt is like a blade through the heart, I can't take it.

Even if I had six hearts, they'd all beat for you.

I can't blame those who stare at you, I get lost in your beauty myself.

I'd worship you as my supreme deity, bathe me in your grace

I'd do anything in the world for you. Just you name it.

Come lay with me, I want to heart your heartbeat.

Everytime I'm with you, I can't help but feel at peace with the world.

#starter prompt #dialogue prompt #writing #writing prompt

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betweenstorms · 5 months ago

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Simon Riley ran the local butcher shop, a quiet man with rough hands and a sharp blade. He worked with a precision that spoke of years of practice, his hands skilled in the art of cutting, though his hazel eyes never revealed what went on behind them.

His work was methodical and precise, each cut of meat as clean and deliberate as the way he carried himself. He moved with purpose, his hands steady, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he carved through bone and sinew with ease. The heavy scent of meat and sawdust filled the air, the rhythmic thwack of a cleaver slicing through bone echoing through the small shop.

You came into his small shop every Friday afternoon, more out of habit than necessity, drawn by something unexplainable about the way he moved, the quiet power in his every motion. The apron he wore was always stained from the day’s work, but somehow, it only added to his allure. She often caught his eyes on her, the familiar hazel gaze always lingering when he thought she wouldn’t notice. His attention was demanding, had a weight to it and you loved how he followed you with his eyes. There was an unspoken tension between you, something that lingered in the air like the scent of iron.

One day, as you reached for your package, your fingers brushed his, and the brief contact sent a shiver through you. His voice, deep and rough, broke the silence. “You keep comin’ back, love. You like my meat so much, eh?” The question hung in the air, as heavy as the cleaver in his hand, and though you couldn’t find the words to respond, blushing deeply, the way his eyes darkened told you that he already knew the answer.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

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lowkeyren · 9 months ago

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reverse dating tropes w hsr men! (pt. 2)

in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist

featuring — gepard, aventurine, sunday (separately) x gn!reader

✧.* — wc: total 2.1k, downbad gepard + flirty aven + sunday is js fluff overload, wrecked my brain out for this, serval robin cameo xx, anyway pls enjoy!! reblogs r appreciated <3

boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

gepard ♡‧₊˚

"blind date" but gepard is just too shy to ask you out himself so serval does him a favour —setting you up on a date with him.

gepard clutches the bouquet of ball peonies tightly behind his back; he catches sight of you sitting on a bench, patiently waiting for him. to ease his nerves, he takes a deep breath, reassuring himself, it’s going to be alright gepard, just go over there, give them the flowers, and ask them out! surely it’s not that hard…

upon spotting him, you rise from your seat and wave eagerly in his direction. he hastens his steps, closing the distance between you. as he stands in front of you, you can see a faint blush tinting his cheeks, the rosy hue contrasting with his fair skin. he clears his throat, “ahem…sorry to keep you waiting.” revealing the bouquet behind his back, he averts his gaze downwards, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

you accept the flowers graciously, smiling warmly at him. “and would you please—” in that moment, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, it's the worst thing he could have done.

oh aeons… you look so beautiful. his heart races, threatening to leap out of his chest, and he finds himself at a loss for words, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. “hm?” you tilt your head with a soft smile, the sound of your voice washes over him like a gentle breeze, leaving him tongue-tied. he’s sure you can see the redness spreading to his ears now.

panicking, he blurts out “—pass the flowers to my sister.” (re: go on a date with me)

his eyes widened at his own words, wait no he meant to ask you out on a date!

“ah… okay, no problem!” you reply, masking your surprise with a polite smile, quickly dismissing any lingering curiosity. though you do find it a bit odd that he would arrange a meeting just to pass on flowers to his sister, but hey perhaps as the captain of silvermane guards, he's simply too busy to visit serval himself. in any case, you admire his thoughtfulness towards his sibling.

“now tell me brother dearest, to what do i owe the pleasure of receiving ball peonies from you?” serval crosses her arm across her chest, learning against her workbench, her face deadpan, oh she’s definitely aware of what happened.

sensing her brother’s nervousness, she shakes her head teasingly. "oh, nevermind! please, spare me the explanation… you totally fumbled, and told them to give the flowers to me? really, geppie? and how long do you plan to drag this out for?"

gepard sighs as he realises there's no use in trying to deflect her sharp observation. he can only resort to his last-ditch effort now: asking serval to set you up on a date with him.

so now, you find yourself sitting at a cozy diner, waiting for your so-called “blind date” that serval has set you up on.

(“i guarantee you won’t regret it!” serval throws a playful wink at you; you give up trying to figure her underlying intentions)

suddenly, a man walks over to you, you assume that he is your date— “gepard? what are you doing here..?” gepard's cheeks flush with embarrassment as he stands before you, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "i, uh... i’m your blind date." he admits, swallowing nervously.

you let out a soft laugh, “oh i was hoping it would be you.” you admit, your voice tinged with a hint of bashfulness.

hoping it was him? so that means you feel the same right?

needless to say, your date went well. before you part ways, you press a soft kiss to his already-burning cheeks (don’t do that again, you’re gonna break him), and you disappear into the distance, leaving behind a trail of butterflies in his stomach; he presses his hand against the spot you pecked, he thinks he might not be able to sleep for the next few nights, what you have done to the poor guy.

oh gepard, he is so deeply, utterly, in love with you.

aventurine ୨୧｡˚ ⋆

CEO playboy aventurine takes an interest in you, but you unintentionally lead him on, so he ends up falling heads over heels for you.

“meet me in my office in 5 minutes.” you immediately pause at what you’re doing, and read the message from your boss over and over again. oh gosh you’re really done for now! what did you do wrong?! your mind races as you try to recall any mistakes you’ve made recently, but nothing comes to mind…

you nervously knock on the door to aventurine’s office, feeling your palms grow clammy with sweat. a voice rings out, “ah, yes please come in.”

you step into the room, not daring to meet your boss’ gaze. “i’m here sir, as you requested. is there anything you need from me?” you suddenly find the marble floor very interesting, opting to stare at it as you anxiously wait for his reply.

aww, are they really that shy to see me? that’s cute.

aventurine’s next sentence catches you completely off guard, “so, what do you think about my new tie, hm?” he walks over to you, a smirk forming on his lips.

is this one of his stupid schemes again? aeons, this won’t work on you.

“...it's crooked. let me fix it for you.” you reach out and adjust his tie, being careful as to not accidentally choke him (even if you really want to, just because he scared the shit out of you by calling you into his office for something like this), lest you get fired.

aventurine is pleasantly taken aback by your boldness. usually those who fall victim to his flirtatious ways are quick to shower him with compliments, but your reaction is refreshingly unexpected. or perhaps you are challenging him? oh well, a little gamble never hurts, right?

it's obvious he’s taken a liking to you; for the next few weeks, he's been calling you to his office more and more frequently, to the point where you're no longer nervous to enter, as you know it’s probably nothing serious. plus, you’ve gotten used to the “strange” reasons he requests for your presence.

including the times where he made you do your work in his office, claiming that he feels lonely and needs your (it can only be you, no one else) company. or the many-times that you told him to manage his money wisely because he CANNOT be spending thousands on you.

“just a small gift for my favourite employee!” (and it's a whole ass car that costs way above your pay grade)

at this point, you're beginning to think he should hire a secretary. you subconsciously bring the idea up during one of your visits, what you didn’t expect was for him to eagerly agree with you. his eyes twinkle with amusement, “no wonder you’re my favourite, of course you’re interested in being my secretary, well lucky you! your new position begins tomorrow.”

so instead of hiring a secretary like any normal person would, he makes YOU his secretary. and hey, when did you ever express that you would like to be his secretary? this scumbag…

“oh don’t be so nervous sweetheart, just sort these out for me—” he hands you a folder of documents, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “and stay here while you work on them.. want to see your pretty face.”

you think your boss is insufferable, even more so now that you’ve fallen for his charms. it's as if he enjoys playing this game of cat and mouse, keeping you on your toes with his teasing remarks and lingering touches. yet beneath the facade of annoyance, there’s something undeniably alluring about the way he looks at you, as if you're the only person in the room. well you’re not far off; you are the sole focus of his attention.

like right now, while you attempt to maintain your composure under his unmistakably, shameless, lovesick gaze; his lips curl into a mischievous smirk, “oh by the way, dinner's on me tonight. choose whatever you like." with a coy smile, you decide to tease him, “what? can’t even ask me out properly?” you quip, raising an eyebrow in faux innocence.

and later that night you find your boss on one knee, waiting at your front porch, in his hands are freshly bought flowers. his eyes immediately light up the moment you open the door, a horrified look on your face. “will you go on a date with me?” oh how he delights in your flustered expression.

“i said ask me out! not get down on one knee and propose!”

“...so will you?”

don’t worry, he knows you'll look forward to the day he proposes (you’re not even dating, yet) but for now he’ll spoil you with the most lavish meal known to mankind, not that you’re complaining about it either.

sunday ༊*·˚

not-so-accidental confession with sunday who intentionally leads you to overhear him talking about his feelings for you.

you raise your hand, ready to knock on the door, but a voice from inside halts your movement. you hesitate, your knuckles hovering just inches away from the wood, as the unexpected sound piques your curiosity.

“brother, why didn’t you tell me this before?” it’s no doubt that the soft-spoken voice belongs to robin, her tone carrying a tinge of surprise; and by the way she addresses the other person, it can't be anyone but sunday himself.

their conversation sounds tense, you think it's inappropriate to eavesdrop, but just as you were about to leave, sunday's voice catches your attention, and you freeze at the sound of your name slipping past his lips.

“—their infectious laugh, how their eyes light up with pure innocence, their unwavering passion and selflessness that knows no bounds; always putting others before themselves. how can i possibly not love them?”

your face flushes with warmth upon hearing his words, and you're unable to suppress a cough that escapes; you bring your hands to your mouth, hoping to stifle any further embarrassment.

robin chuckles, “oh brother, i understand exactly what you mean”, a genuine smile spreads across her face. “...seems like you’re expecting a guest” she raises an eyebrow knowingly, “i’ll take my leave now." with that, she gives sunday a reassuring pat on the shoulder and gracefully exits the room, shooting you a playful wink as she walks by.

uh oh… you’re totally busted

you immediately turn on your heels, trying to slip away before sunday realises you're there. but just before you can make your escape, someone grabs your wrist, holding you firmly in place. you turn around to see sunday looking down at you, his eyes flickering with emotions swirling within him.

"i swear i didn't hear anything!" you exclaim, waving your hand in front of you defensively.

“really…nothing?”

“yup! nothing at all.” you lie through your teeth, cringing at yourself.

“nothing? ...but i made sure you were there to hear everything.” a hint of disappointment evident in his voice.

“huh..?” your expression twists with confusion, a faint blush creeping up from your neck. you were meant to hear that? he just poured his heart out to his sister…about you!

sunday smiles, oh there’s no point in lying now, he knows you heard him. (as expected)

he steps closer to you, his arms caging you between the wall and himself. “you know i meant everything i said right?” a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, leaving you momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond; you can feel your chest swelling with warmth, his wings flutter subconsciously as he awaits your response.

“y-yes…” you avert your gaze, too shy to stare into his eyes. “please, look at me…” he gently tilts your chin up, his eyes boring into yours. “i wanted to tell you that i love you, for so long” he looks vulnerable at that moment, a side he only ever shows to you; a side of him only you get to see.

“i love y—” sunday gently places his finger on your lips, silencing you. you tilt your head at his gesture, your mouth still agape. “don’t say it back yet…” moving his hand to hold your face, “allow me to take you out on a date, then tell me how you feel.” you interlace your fingers with the his that rest against your face, nodding your head in acceptance.

though sunday longs for you to utter those 3 words to him, he wants to make that moment perfect, just as you are to him. despite sunday’s intention for you to overhear him, he regrets not being able to catch your reaction to his words, so next time (re: on the date), he vows to repeat it as many times as necessary; he will do anything to fulfill your every wish.

and should you desire for him to put a ring on your finger, he will do it in a heartbeat.

✧.*

masterlist boothill jing yuan blade vers here!

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neeeooon · 20 days ago

Note

hey can I please request bllk boys reacting to touch starved reader wanting to touch them but doesn't want to come off as annoying or clingy?

you can do any of the bllk boys but would prefer if you include sae,rin and barou :)

YOU GOT IT BABE ty for the request!! 🤍🫶

when you’re touch starved ;

bf bllk x gn!reader

itoshi sae

-> sae is… complex. he’s hard to read, but you certainly enjoy trying to figure him out

-> one thing you can’t figure out, though, is his take on touch

-> sae isn’t a very touchy person when you’re together. you enjoy each others presence, but there isn’t a need for wandering hands or careless caresses

-> but after he returns from the business trip that stole him from you for two weeks, you’re in desperate need of more than a smile from him

-> you’re able to subtly get him alone, but even then he goes straight upstairs to take a nap. sighing, you begin to beam when you hear him call from the top, “are you coming, y/n?”

-> your feet can’t move faster as you fly up the stairs and into the bed, curling into your boyfriend’s side like your life depended on it. it wasn’t much, but you didn’t want to push

-> but then sae “falls asleep”, and when he does, his arm loops around your waist, hand on your stomach as he pulls you so that your back is flush against his chest

-> he can hear your quiet little giggles and smiles. “why didn’t you just ask, y/n?” “you’re tired, and i didn’t want to be annoying.”

-> “you’re not annoying,” he hums sleepily before placing a kiss on your shoulder blade and finally dozing off

itoshi rin

-> he isn’t a fan of pda, and you’re okay with that. you’d never do anything to make him uncomfortable, but you also don’t want to come off as annoying when you lean into his side or stare longingly at his empty hand

-> you’re hanging out together one day, rin curled on the couch with a book while you’re supposed to be watching tv

-> but you’re not. you’re watching him and the little crease of concentration appear between his brows as his teal eyes skim the page and you’re suddenly itching to be in his arm between his chest and his book

-> you slowly inch closer and closer until your thigh grazes his, but rin doesn’t move. you don’t want to interrupt or annoy him, but you are ten seconds away from hugging yourself

-> “rin?” you whisper. he blinks up at you expectingly, so you ignore the blush on your cheeks and say, “i need cuddles or i’m gonna die.”

-> after a few seconds, he snickers a little at your antics and moves his book to one hand, leaving a gap for you to slip against his chest

-> “am i not giving you enough attention?” “no :(“ “i’m sorry, lovely. i’ll do better.”

barou shouei

-> you’re too embarrassed to ask barou for anything physical when he’s around, since he’s usually busy, and you don’t want him to think you’re annoying

-> however. after your family left for nearly a week, leaving you alone, you were close to tears when barou came over and didn’t immediately hug you

-> “y/n?” “i’m okay!” “are you sure? you’re rubbing your arm very hard..”

-> you stop rubbing your arm and hug your middle instead. “i’m good! all good. um, h-how are you?”

-> he’s not believing that. worried that the loneliness is wearing on you mentally, he steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder. “i’m sorry for not being around recently. i’m here, now—“

-> “oh my god, can you just—“ you pluck his hands from your shoulders and place them on your face, sighing happily and how warm he is

-> barou stares down at you with red cheeks. “oh. you. um. oh.” “i don’t want to come off as clingy, but i will bite you if you aren’t hugging me in ten seconds.” he hugs you in two

karasu tabito

-> karasu is usually very good at keeping a hand on your waist or hips whenever you’re together, but he’s been distracted lately

-> you know he’s busy and stressed, so you don’t want to add to his annoyances with your clinginess

-> thankfully, karasu is not an idiot. “y/n?” he asks when you avoid looking at him for the fourth time in three minutes to pick at your jeans. “hm?”

-> “what are you thinking?” “… it’s embarrassing..” “no, it’s not, dear. i want to know.” “……. can i hold your hand?”

-> and he starts laughing, which makes your face flush bright red. “y/n, i’m your boyfriend. you don’t have to ask to hold my hand.” “but you’re so busy, and i—“

-> he cuts you off by taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. “you can hold my hand. do you want a hug as well?” “yes, please.”

yukimiya kenyu

-> you’re hot-natured and usually hate when people touch you, and yukimiya knows this, so he usually keeps a considerate but comfortable distance from you

-> however, you don’t see your boyfriend as “people”. you appreciate his consideration, but you feel like you’ll die if you go another day without physical contact

-> “yuki?” “yes, honey?” “um.. never mind,” you turn away, feeling clingy when he turned away from the paper in his hands to look at you

-> yukimiya furrows his brows and stands to gently catch your hand. he lets you go, remembering (incorrectly) that you don’t like his touch, and you cannot stand it anymore

-> “are you oka—“ “don’t laugh. please hold my hand again.”

-> he’d never laugh at you, but he does smile a bit. “oh? but i thought—“ “kenyu, i have not been touched by another human being in days. please hold my hand and hug me or i might go clinically insane.” “yes ma’am/sir.”

#requested!#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi sae #barou shouei #karasu tabito #yukimiya kenyu #bllk rin #bllk sae #bllk barou #bllk karasu #bllk yukimiya

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unfriendlywriter · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 2: Misunderstandings and Morning Mayhem

pairing: Yuri Plisetsky x OC

synopsis: After a long time Valeriya Nikiforov returns to St. Petersburg to start again with her older brother Victor. She doesn’t expect that her old crush and childhood friend Jurij Plisetsky will also try to change their friendship stage and go further.

tags: romantic, comedy, fluff, slow burn

author's note: sorry for late post, new year’s was crazy

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of Victor’s sleek St. Petersburg apartment, filling the space with a soft, golden light. Valeriya stirred in bed, stretching lazily beneath the covers. The events of the previous night—her arrival, her emotional talk with Victor, and the lingering thoughts of Yuri Plisetsky—buzzed in the back of her mind.

She rolled out of bed and slipped into the first things she could find: an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of underwear. It wasn’t like she was expecting to run into anyone else. Besides, it was Victor’s place—what could go wrong?

Still half-asleep, she padded to the kitchen, her bare legs chilled slightly by the cool air. The black strands of her hair fell messily around her face as she set about rummaging through the cupboards.

The clattering of cups and the sound of the kettle boiling filled the quiet apartment. She was just reaching for the tea when she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her.

"Victor, you’d better not have forgotten Makkachin outside again," Valeriya said without turning around.

Instead of the expected response from her brother, she heard a distinctly different voice—a voice dripping with confusion and shock.

"Uh, who the hell are you, and why are you half-naked in my kitchen?"

Valeriya froze for a split second before turning around slowly, eyebrow raised. Leaning in the doorway was none other than Yuri Katsuki, looking like he’d just been slapped in the face by the most scandalous morning surprise imaginable. His eyes flicked from her bare legs to her sweatshirt, then back up to her face, his expression a mix of bewilderment and something akin to horror.

Valeriya’s lips curled into a slow, amused smirk. "Last I checked, this was my brother’s apartment. But thanks for the warm welcome."

Yuri blinked rapidly, clearly not expecting *that* response. He stammered, "B-but I—this is—wait, your brother? Victor—?"

"Yeah, Victor." Valeriya leaned against the counter, crossing her arms and making no effort to cover up the fact that she was still in her underwear. "I’m Valeriya Nikiforov. Maybe you’ve heard of me?"

Yuri’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "Victor’s… sister? He never mentioned—wait, why are you dressed like that?"

Valeriya shrugged, completely unfazed by his growing panic. "Sorry, didn’t realize I’d be meeting anyone else this morning. Had I known, I would’ve rolled out the red carpet."

Yuri’s face flushed an impressive shade of red. "I—what the—where’s Victor?"

"Out walking Makkachin," Valeriya said, turning back to the counter and pouring herself some tea. She raised the mug to her lips, pausing dramatically before adding, "Don’t worry, I’m not here to steal your precious fiancé."

Yuri spluttered. "I wasn’t worried about that! I just—"

Valeriya smirked over the rim of her cup. "Relax, Katsuki. You look like you’re about to pass out. You must not be used to seeing a woman in the morning."

Before Yuri could respond, the sound of the front door opening interrupted them. Victor’s voice rang out as Makkachin burst into the apartment, tail wagging wildly.

"Leriya! I’m back—"

Victor froze as he took in the scene: Valeriya casually leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping tea in nothing but a sweatshirt and underwear, and Yuri standing across from her, looking like he was caught between an existential crisis and a heart attack.

"Well," Victor said with a grin, clearly enjoying himself, "looks like you two have met."

Yuri glared at him, still flustered beyond belief. "Victor, why didn’t you tell me your sister was here?"

Victor shrugged, all innocence. "I didn’t think it’d be a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Yuri echoed, throwing his hands in the air. "You didn’t think it was important to mention that your sister would be standing half-dressed in the kitchen when I walked in?"

Valeriya, ever unbothered, took another sip of her tea. "It’s not like I planned on giving you a show this morning."

Yuri shot her a look, clearly exasperated, but there was the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes now. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"Thoroughly," Valeriya replied, flashing him a wicked grin.

Victor, meanwhile, was practically glowing with amusement. He placed his arm around Yuri’s shoulders, pulling him into a brief, playful hug. "You’ll get used to her. She’s even more charming once she puts on pants."

Yuri sighed, shaking his head, but the tension in his posture eased. "I can see she’s as dramatic as you are."

Valeriya rolled her eyes. "Please. I’m nothing like him."

"Sure, sure," Yuri muttered, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips now.

After a few more minutes of teasing back and forth (mostly from Valeriya’s end), they all sat down for breakfast. Victor, in his typical over-the-top style, made pancakes, flipping them theatrically while Makkachin sat eagerly at his feet, waiting for scraps.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to the rink, and Victor suggested they all head there for training.

"You know Yakov’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you," Victor remarked, eyeing Valeriya as he stacked the pancakes on a plate.

"Good," Valeriya shot back, her smirk returning. "Maybe he needs the wake-up call."

Yuri glanced at her, still clearly not over the morning’s events. "You want to give Yakov a heart attack?"

Valeriya shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? I like to make an entrance."

#fanfiction #x oc #yurio plisetsky #yuuri!!! on ice #yoi #yuri plisetsky #yoi yurio #yuuri on ice #between blades and blushes #figure skating #grand prix

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hcneymooners · 2 months ago

Text

thinking of chef!sevika...

suggestive content. men & minors dni.

🫕 and how the two of you met least luxuriously. you had gone on a terrible date - the kind where the conversation was tepid as lukewarm soup, where you watched the other person cut their food into increasingly smaller pieces just to have something to do with their hands.

🫕 you'd stolen away to the bathroom and found yourself wedged between the open window and sill, desperate for air untainted by forced laughter. thinking of how you got stuck and she looked up at you, as if you were suspended in a baroque-era painting, all twisted limbs and desperation. you'd reached out to her, a stranger in the alleyway of a restaurant, and asked for help.

🫕 she'd lifted you free with hands that spoke of years in kitchens - calloused, sure, strong - and you found the ground beneath your feet again, hair slightly mussed from all the movement. thank you, you said and she'd smiled so that you could see the body of the cigar held tightly between her teeth. she had a gap-tooth smile that reminded you of warm bread torn apart, and you thought of it all the way home and even after, constantly.

🫕 thinking of chef!sevika and how you met again, this time at a group function at some lush little eatery off a street you didn't know had any reputation in the city. it was a birthday party so the place had been rented out and you were pressed back-to-back and front-to-front with people who you knew nothing of, but shared memories of the birthday girl with. it was nineteen twenties themed so you'd gotten a jet-black wig, short and curling softly at the apples of your cheeks, and had ornamented yourself with an authentic flapper dress: glittering sleekly in the perfect shade of baby blue. your diamond necklaces were long and layered, your mother's relic.

🫕 the noise had become too much - crystal glasses clinking like wind chimes in a storm - so you'd slipped away, found a door marked 'staff only' and pushed through into blessed quiet. you've tucked yourself into this side kitchen, where the air smells of reduced wine and fresh herbs.

🫕 chef!sevika who's surprised to find you lounging in her extra kitchen, who hides a smile as you dip a finger into a plate of artfully smoked salmon laid out in thin blush slices against a fan of pita and sauce. she's older than you, carries it in the silver threading her temples, in the assured way she moves through her domain.

🫕 her knife work is hypnotic - you watch her hands move with the surety that comes from decades of practice, the blade an extension of herself. curious little thing, she murmurs, but slides the plate closer to you instead of pulling it away.

🫕 you start bringing her things after that night - rare spices from specialty shops tucked into quiet corners of the city, flowers still warm from the morning market, cookbooks with cracked spines from antique stores.

🫕 she teaches you to taste properly: eyes closed, breathing in the steam of broths she's spent hours perfecting. slow down, she'll whisper, one hand on your wrist, savor it. and you learn to do just that - to savor everything about her, about this slow-burning thing between you.

🫕 in her kitchen late at night, you watch her alter recipes. she lets you be her tester, feeding you tiny portions from wooden spoons worn smooth with use. too much salt? she asks, and you shake your head, entranced by how she makes notes in a leather-bound journal, her handwriting precise and slanting. you're perched on a counter, legs swinging, and she moves between stoves with the grace of a dancer. sometimes her hand brushes your knee as she passes, and you feel it like a flame.

🫕 she teaches you to make pasta on a sunday morning, the kitchen filled with golden light. her hands guide yours through the motions of kneading, and you lean back against her chest, feeling how your breathing slowly synchronizes. patience, she says, when you want to rush. good things take time. you understand she's not just talking about the dough beneath your fingers.

🫕 your first real kiss tastes of the cardamom ice cream she's been perfecting - sweet and complex and slightly spiced. she cups your face in hands that smell of basil and butter, and you think about how many ways there are to feed someone, to nourish them.

🫕 months pass like honey dripping from a spoon. you build rituals together: morning coffee in the garden she's started growing herbs in, weekend trips to farmers' markets where she charms every vendor with her expertise and that gap-toothed smile. she teaches you the names of every herb in her garden, how to tell when tomatoes are perfectly ripe, the secret to properly seasoning cast iron. you teach her how to slow down sometimes, to leave the kitchen and dance with you in the living room, to let a meal be simple if it means more time to kiss.

🫕 you surprise her on her birthday by converting the spare room into a spice library - floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with jars from your travels together, each one labeled in your careful handwriting. she cries, just a little, and you kiss the salt from her cheeks.

🫕 the proposal happens in her kitchen - where else? - while she's teaching you to make her grandmother's secret recipe for braised short ribs. this is a family secret, she says, and then pauses, wooden spoon halfway to the pot. i suppose you should be family then. you nearly drop the wine you're holding, and she laughs, deep and rich. marry me, she says, let me feed you forever.

🫕 the wedding is in autumn, when the air is crisp and sweet with falling leaves. she spends days in the kitchen you built her, crafting a feast that tells your story: the smoked salmon from the night in her extra kitchen, pasta rolled by four hands instead of two, herbs from your shared garden. your dress is the color of a deep forest, and when you walk down the aisle, she cries again, just a little.

🫕 there are harder days, when eating feels like swallowing stones. she finds you curled on the kitchen floor one morning, the marble cool against your cheek. without a word, she sits beside you, gathers you into her lap like something precious.

🫕 hey baby, she whispers against your hair, and her hands are so gentle as they trace the hollow spaces of you. she feeds you breakfast slowly, carefully - warm bread torn into tender, small pieces, drizzled with honey. each bite is followed by a kiss: to your temples, your shoulders, the soft plane of your stomach.

🫕 you're here, she reminds you, you're safe. and you are - safe in this kitchen that smells of rosemary and rising dough, safe in her arms that have always known how to hold you.

🫕 later, when you're stronger, she shows you another kind of recipe. dark chocolate melting on your skin like sunset, the sharp bright burst of reduced raspberry sauce. the secret, she murmurs against your collarbone, is the canvas. her tongue traces patterns like plating designs, and you laugh, breathless, at how she makes art of everything. my masterpiece, she calls you, and you feel beautiful, consumed, cherished.

🫕 the cookbook comes as a surprise - you find the proof copy on her desk one evening. "recipes for my love," the title reads, and inside are all your favorites. each recipe comes with a story, a memory. "the secret ingredient is time," she writes in the introduction, "and someone worth spending it with." it sells out in weeks, then months. "it's like reading a love letter," the reviews say, and you blush every time, even as you beam with pride at how she's shared your love with the world.

🫕 thinking about how your home becomes a sanctuary, especially for jinx and isha. they come at all hours - after fights, during celebrations, on quiet sunday afternoons when they just need to be somewhere warm.

🫕 sevika teaches jinx knife skills while you and isha roll out cookie dough, all of you covered in flour and laughing. the cool aunts, they call you, but you know it's more than that. it's the way sevika always knows when to start making hot chocolate (the real stuff. none of that synthetic crap, she grumbles), the way you keep their favorite snacks in the pantry, the way the kitchen island has become a confessional booth where secrets are whispered and hearts are allowed to be swollen with grief .

🫕 kitchens are for healing, sevika says one night, watching you all from the doorway. jinx is asleep on the couch, isha curled up beside her, and the house smells like the cookies you'd stress-baked together after a particularly rough day. you lean back against her chest, feeling her heartbeat strong and steady. and for family, you add, and feel her smile against your hair.

🫕 thinking of how the years pass like this - measured in meals shared, in recipes perfected, in late-night comforts and early morning kisses that taste of coffee. your love never spoils, never grows stale. it only deepens, like a good red wine, like a soup that's been simmering all day.

🫕 sevika still feeds you from splintering spoons, still kisses your stomach on hard days, still looks at you like you're the most exquisite dish she's ever created. and you still perch on counters to watch her work, still bring her flowers and spices, still catch your breath at the full force of her smile.

🫕 in the end, it's simple: your kitchen is your heart, and your heart is always full.

me 🤝🏾 my eating disorder and subsequent recovery 🤝🏾 wanting to marry someone in the food industry.

#sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika #sevika my love #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #fluff #light angst #mine ; 🐎.#female!reader #arcane x female reader #fem!reader #sevika x oc

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twisted-broth · 14 days ago

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Their Favorite Place to Kiss You

Characters: Cater, Trey, Leona, Rook, Vil, Idia, Lilia, Malleus, Rollo, Chenya

Genre: fluff, suggestive (Minors DNI)

Happy Valentines Day!

Cater loves a quick peck on the cheek! It always makes for the best pic when he can catch off guard and capture your expression of delighted surprise. Every time he can manage to draw a joyful giggle from your lips, he swears he can die a happy man. And it's really your own fault for having such a photogenic reaction

Trey likes to kiss you on the jaw, just below your ear. He argues that it's the best position for him to experience every aspect of your reaction. He can feel the heat on his lips from your blush, see your eyes widen, and hear your soft gasp all at once. His favorite thing to do is to hug you from behind and lean down to kiss your jaw then. This way gives him the added joy of feeling all of you against him

Leona will kiss you on the neck so much you would think he's trying to eat you. Actually with the amount of hickeys he leaves behind, maybe you're not wrong. The feeling of your pulse beneath his lips gives him a high unlike any other. But you should really stop moving so much. Those fangs aren't just for looking pretty, you know

Rook, ever the gentleman, prefers to kiss you on the back of the hand. It's how he says hello, goodbye, and everything in between. When he's particularly excited to see you (which is most of the time), his kisses will make their way up your arm until he's peppering them all over your face and anywhere else he can reach.

Vil doesn't want to mess up his makeup, so when he needs to be quick he'll go in for a nose kiss. His days are fast paced, but he'll always spare a second to give you a nose kiss in passing. He adores the way your face scrunches up when you laugh and squeeze his hand.

Idia will kiss you any spot where he doesn't have to meet your eyes, especially your shoulder blade. His happy place is when you're in his lap, playing video games with your back against his chest. The only thing that distracts him from gaming is nuzzling into your back and pressing his lips against your shoulder.

Lilia is always trying to make you squirm and the easiest way is by kissing your inner thighs. His lips and teeth graze your most sensitive skin until you're trembling beneath him. Even more than your whines of frustration, he revels in your cries when he sinks his teeth in. But if you wanted to grab his head and put his mouth to use somewhere else, he wouldn't mind that either

Malleus would accept nothing less than to kiss your lips. He is a prince after all, so of course he would deserve to lay claim in a spot no one else would even dare touch. Even though his lips are cold, his breath is always burning hot as it fans across your face. Even in the most passionate moments, his kisses are always gentle. Of course he'll still kiss you enough to make your lips chapped and sore by the time you're done

Rollo is always quiet in his affection, which is why he likes to kiss your wrist. Kissing you anywhere more intimate makes him too nervous to really enjoy the moment, but pressing his lips to your pulse point while you cradle his face brings him back to earth.

Chenya lives for a surprise forehead kiss. His face will pop up out of nowhere, inches from your own. Before you can even get a word in, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead and disappears again, leaving you blinking in confusion.

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munsster · 8 months ago

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hell-bent

A/N: basically… give me beefy bucky or give me death (gif creds: @vader-anakin)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: All you want is attention from your boyfriend. Though, during a life/death mission may not be the best time to crave it. 2.6k words

Warnings: smut, man handling, dirty talk, degrading, knife play/kink, blood play!!!!!, uh very mild exhibitionism, pet names (babydoll, doll, princess, minx, baby)

"Babydoll, toss my knife over." A crouching Bucky fiddles with the steel door's padlock before catching your ankle in his left palm, wrapping cooly into your exposed skin.

"Can I have a kiss first?" you coo and bat your lashes to get his blood pumping, the susurration booming in his ears and rushing between his legs.

He barks out a laugh, face scrunched as he falls back onto his tailbone, abandoning the Fort Knox knockoff before you kick your calf from his grip and shuffle away. His breath finally catches in his windpipe when you scoff, tugging his knife from your belt. Bird-like in your grace, you flit away with a tune tumbling from your lips in a hum. Footsteps thud hard and fast until his hands clasp your abdomen. With the tip of his nose pressed to your ear, his hips shoved up against your back, and in a mumble:

"Listen, the second we're done with this, I'll fuck you until you can't walk, but right now, I need the goddamn knife." His mouth trails to the crook of your jaw as his fingers curl into your taut leather neckline. A hot puff of air fans over your skin when you spin in his arms, spine sinuous and molding into his grasp. Then the edge of his own knife meets his bust, poking at the center of his vest as he frowns.

"And I need a kiss," you say, very matter-of-fact in your own silver-tongued way. The tip of the blade glides up and over his adam's apple until he's forced to tilt his head back, stubbly jaw exposed to your hungry eyes. A blushing pink line rises in the knife's wake, pricking at his skin with ease.

Bucky likes it that way. 'That way' meaning sharp. And 'it' being his knife and his girl.

"Doll?"

Lip tucked between your teeth, you savor the flutter of his lashes when he plucks at the hip of your catsuit, grinning wide like a predator. The spandex snaps against your skin with a biting pain. "Yes, James?"

"Give me the knife. Now." The gravel in his voice has you withdrawing the blade from his skin and pouting like you're innocent. Like his hard-on isn't already strained against your thigh. He meets your gaze then, pupils blown as he sighs. Out of relief or disappointment, he does not know.

"Give me a kiss. Now," you mimic.

"Fuckin— you know what? Fine." Vibranium clamps onto your jaw, tugging you close as his lips meet your own in a searing kiss. The burning cold of his fingertips brings a certain warmth to your cheeks, spreading, curling over your bones and flooding your senses. He groans into you as he licks at your mouth and draws your breath over his tongue. His hands roam your waist, and he lets out a muffled protest when you reach for his belt.

It's worse that he hasn't had a moment alone with you for a week. Libido going haywire at your touch, he revels in it, his low moan pouring down your throat. And his hands. God, his hands. They dip into your waist like cupped palms dip into the fountain of youth after years of wear and tear. His thumbs press hard against rib until you purr into him with the heat of several suns beating down on a forgotten beach.

Then, right fingers drag down your wrist, coiling around the handle of the knife and wiggling it from your loosened grasp. You pull back with a scowl, lips chafed under the wet pressure of his own, and he winks.

"Thank you, princess," he whispers against your temple with a smirk, clapping his palm onto your ass and chuckling when you squeal and back hand his bicep.

"Bastard."

…

"You. Out," Bucky barks, ducking into the stuffy tent and squeezing your hand as he glares at a pissed Sam.

"There's no way in hell you're hogging our only shelter for sex!" Sam snaps.

"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I'm doing. Now, get out before I strip, and you get to watch me in all my naked glory fuck my gorgeous girlfriend." You drop your forehead to the center of his back, and your face goes hot. Sam shuffles past you, grumbling about ‘horny goddamn rabbits’.

"Little much, don't you think?" But Bucky's not really listening as he zips the hatch shut and pounces on you like a frenzied jaguar, lurching with the smooth coil of his stamina.

"Minx," he growls against the hot skin of your exposed clavicle, "'m gonna go into cardiac arrest with how excited you get me." He tugs the zipper of your suit further, marking the skin with wet kisses down your navel. You clutch the seam of the bedroll beneath you in your restless grip because his teeth pinch your delicate skin and the humid tent nearly drowns you.

"You bring out the knife fiend in me." Off his tongue like a moan, like he's holding back, and when he ruts into you, it's clear he is.

The super soldier's heartbeat pumps in your ears, and you gasp when it picks up, pressing your palm to his chest. He fumbles an eager hand for his thigh pocket, pupils blown at the sound of a steel click. Dopamine floods his senses, the fading light glaring across his switchblade that he finds reflects in your gaze nicely.

"Is this payback?" you whisper. His grin is nothing but cheshire then, scheming with a racing mind as he brings the needle-sharp point to the crest of your cheekbone.

"You know I would never hurt you, princess." He trips the blade low, down your throat to the valley of your breasts where he pauses in thought. His lips hover a breath over yours, and Bucky likes the way you go soft and doe-eyed and maleable in his embrace. "D'you trust me?"

"With my life."

A flash of arrogance crosses his expression, the glint in his eye shining through his god complex. The chill of the blade scrapes over the plump of your breast as he keeps his crystal eyes trained on you. You and your ragged breathing and your fingers curling into his bicep. He just has that effect on you. The corners of his lips rise wickedly at the idea.

"Dunno if I'd be so willing, babydoll," he grumbles, pressing the serrated edge to your sternum, the skin swelling on either side; it starts to sting. "But I guess that's the epitome of trust, isn't it?"

A hiss through your bared frown when the flesh breaks for crimson. He's quick to lap at the wound, driving the blade of his knife through the base of the tent and into the dirt beside your shoulder. His palm flattens against your rib cage as he jerks your zipper fully open and peels the suit from your torso.

"Now, that wasn't so bad," he says, feeling your lungs flood with air beneath his shaking hands. Your head lulls to the side, and if he didn't know better, he would think you were pissed. He thumbs over your fresh cut, hushing you when you squirm. "What happened to my poor girl?"

"Fuck you."

"Doll," he warns.

"I hate you."

"Take it back," he huffs, kneeling between your thighs with his fingertips tweaking your pebbled nipples. While concerned, he's been turned on since noon, no thanks to you. Desperate fingers go to rake your scalp as he leans down to pepper ever present kisses over your jaw. "C'mon, lemme kiss it better."

You look to him like he's the prime suspect in your own murder, and it shatters his poor heart to nothing but ash in his sunken chest. Anger feeds your fire until you flip him off with a smirk that makes his brain do a spine-twisting somersault. Without a second thought, your wrists are pinned to the ground, tight enough to fracture, and yet he still handles you like you're porcelain.

"If you don't ease up, I'll have no choice but to fuck the attitude right outta you. Hmm? Hard to complain when you're busy moaning for me." Sweat flecks down his temple, saliva pooling in his mouth when you blink up at him, jaw unhinged, fingers ticking. He's an animal in this light.

"It's like being a douchebag is second nature to you," you mumble, and you feel him snap with a shift of his weight. An inner gearshift from benign victim to the apex predator. Or maybe he was never benign, just lying in wait.

"Oh, you've earned it now, babydoll."

He strips you of your uniform with a yank, palming for your feverish skin as he licks at your bottom lip. Some volatile form of submission. Like he's teasing you out of your husk just to rip you to shreds. But God be damned if you wouldn't offer him the very weapon of your own demise.

His tac-gear clatters to the ground while he takes your fist to curl around his cock, coated slick with precum. He huffs out a breathy chuckle against your neck when you slowly stroke him. Then his hips buck into your grip as his teeth sink into your jugular.

"See what you do to me? Been hard as a fuckin' rock since the second I saw you. Couldn't help but remember how you taste. Let alone how you feel." And nothing satisfies a super soldier's cravings like the real thing.

He hoists your thigh up and over his hip, 'round his lower back. Like a belt. Like you're his consolation prize. You push the pad of your thumb across his frenulum, tearing something gargled and ragged from his throat. Something almost sentient as he tosses his head back in earnest. Yet all you can do it stare: his eyelids drifting shut, fingers strangling the sheets beneath you, his every muscle tensed like his life depends on it. Not a bad view. Not bad at all.

Then, your fingers tighten with the pulsing vein along his cock, and he has to slip from your hold to compose his sex drive. His eyes blink open to a zig-zag scene that he can't quite register until his eyes uncross.

"Christ, woman, give your poor lover a break. I'm still recovering from just lookin' at you," Bucky sighs. And he falls head over heels for the way you thumb over his dimpled chin and kiss him like an angel, soft and sweet and ethereal like no other.

The illusion shatters, however, when you bring your hips to meet his in one single thrust. Relentless woman with the face of a goddess. It brings him to his knees—or in this case, elbows.

You giggle at his pinched expression, wiggling your pelvis as his tip presses deeper into you cunt. Then it's payback when your back arches and your nails dig into his flanks, baring your neck to his gaze.

"Yeah, right there, princess," he mumbles, "I know you missed me inside this pretty pussy." And the cocky bastard is right. He feels it in the way you stretch to fit his girth, the supple elasticity of your cunt clenching in unfamiliarity. The subtle rotation of his hips is evil in principle but so damn perfect when everything is so warm, so wet, how can either of you resist.

You grasp for his shoulders when he hooks your ankles around his lower back. And oh, does he know how to work at this angle. His tip drives deeper just so he can drag back out again, slow in every roll of his hips. Any protest flies out the door in heavy breaths across skin and fingertips

The dark closes in around you, suffocating as it drenches your skin and renders you undiluted beauty in his arms. With every moan, he picks up speed just to hear you against his throat.

"Bucky." It bubbles from your throat as an ode to his warm body and restless mind. “Love you.”

"I gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, too." His muscles twist around you, and he's close with the stutter of his hips, digging deeper while his metal palm flattens against your tummy. Your fingers comb his hair from his eyes; you look like an angel, blissed out, half-lidded eyes, and he smiles down at you, still so focused despite his unraveling.

The tent's zipper hisses when Sam peeks in with an awfully disgruntled, "what the hell, cyborg? A warning?"

"I think you had enough of a warning," Bucky growls, continuing his thrusts when your head tilts to the side, an embarrassed squeal from your lips.

"Jesus Christ, I thought you'd be done, old man," Sam chuckles.

"Get the fuck out!"

"Fine, fine, just try not to break your girlfriend." A loud sigh from Sam before the zipper shuts with a metallic grinding noise that echoes in your ears as static.

"Sorry, pretty baby, 'pparently someone's common sense left 'im," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to the broken flesh of your sternum, lashes batting as a sufficient apology. A harsh thrust then, punching the air from his chest as every fiber in his body coils and snaps to the beat of your heart, filling you with wet heat. He rubs his middle finger over your clit with a vengeful smirk when your back curls with the weight of your release.

…

"D'you always go commando under these things?" he coos, tentative and quiet while the pads of his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your damp skin. Your snug uniform and the way it hugs you hasn't left his mind. Fact, it never really does.

"Yeah, I mean kevlar is surprisingly breathable, so what's the point."

"Noted." Bucky drapes his forearm across your navel, shifting onto his palm and grinning above you like the cat that got the cream: mischievous and pleased out of his mind. "I'm one lucky sonuvabitch, huh?"

"Yeah, you are," you tease, hooking your thighs around his hips as he settles into your body with a chuckle, chest erupting with delight taut against yours. He tucks the hair plastered across your forehead to your hairline with a knuckle, lips puckered against your temple in a kiss sweet enough to give you cavities.

Your hands dive into the sleeping bag, trailing the sweat-slicked sinew in his back, dipping with the tightly-wound muscle before sinking your fingertips into the plump of his ass with a cheeky smile.

"Little minx." Bucky hangs his head with a grin, nipping for your cupid's bow then pecking lower at your baby-soft lips. Though he knows he went far enough with the tip of his blade, he would never admit it to you. The same way you would never admit that you liked the sting of it. But now that he's left a scar on your chest—an unspoken promise of his and hers, a permanent mark in your complexion—there's truly no turning back.

And he proves it with another kiss that renders you breathless, taking in his solace with wavering consciousness. The line between asleep and awake and Bucky's hands blurr to something more than reality. Though, the noise he makes against your mouth is nothing short of sinful.

From the opposite side of the tent, Sam grumbles, "mind shutting the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Sammy!" you whisper.

"No, you're not."

marvel masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #x reader #x fem!reader #smut #bucky barnes smut #marvel #marvel smut #tw knifeplay #tw knife #tw blood

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