#but is it selfish for a black man to want the head of his house to stay black

[dulcewrites]

Strangely enough - my fav dynamic (in bitw) so far is the one between Maeve and Criston?? 😭😭 my followers/readers of color will get this but you know when you walk in a room full of white people then spot the one other person of color. Like you don’t even have to know them or speak to them… but you share the Look™️. Lmao thats them

[roturo]

THIS WOMAN IS MY ONLY ANGEL!

SUMMARY !: Megumi’s blood got blue, why? well because he thought he was losing his only angel coming back home. WARNINGS !: Smut, aged up characters, unprotected sex, creampie & breeding kink, mentions of forming a family, mentions of cheating, biting, tummy bulge, overstimulated, dumbification, a lot of cum, multiple orgasms, squirting, mating press, masturbation, fingering, corruption kink & very nasty stuff.

Megumi was coming home from a mission. Murmuring how much he hated this mission and that maybe he should quit being a sorcerer. He couldn’t bear the annoying behavior of his teammates and thanks to them making the missions even harder. Thanks to them he broke his phone on the mission and couldn’t tell you he’s coming home earlier tonight.

Once he got closer towards the house of both of you, he saw lights turned on in your bedroom, so he assumed you were awake and waiting for him. He opened up the door, taking off his shoes and jacket, but before he could place it on the sofa he heard some sounds— his first instinct was to go running to find you— afraid something or someone was hurting you— but he stopped mid-tracks once he heard a moan. He swears his heart stopped beating and his blood turned cold at the sound.

He waited there, in the hallway towards the bedroom— thinking and begging that the sound was all a creation of his imagination but he heard it again. And it’s like his body moved without his permission that he didn’t realized he walked in front of the door— cursed energy coming out of him, that anyone who got close to him would drown on it and stop breathing of how heavy it felt

Ready to give up his future life with you, thinking about all the things you could’ve done together— have a family, visit different parts of the world, get married…— he was ready to throw it all, and give up on those ideas. He just wanted you to be happy, so if you were happy with someone else, he would leave you. If you wanted him to die, to go and fucking kill himself, he would do it.

And he’s selfish, he knows that. But he never wants to see you with someone else— he told you, but he guesses you never listened.

And he swears you’re making him bleed. Cold and black blood coming out of him. Ready to leave, knowing apologies would never fix this.

He guesses promises are broken like stitches.

He opened the door, and now he feels like an idiot. 

An idiot with a boner.

You were sprawled out, wearing one of his shirts, tears streaming down your cheeks— your cute little fingers compared to his trying to find release by yourself. His blood became red and hot again. Going straight to his dick, because he couldn’t believe this sight— he was angry, horny, relieved… he was angry for thinking that low of you, he was horny for watching you pleasure yourself, and he was relieved for everything he thought was just a fear of his that isn’t true.

‘M—Megumi…A-Ah!’ — It’s like when you realized he was right there, watching you pleasure yourself, moaning his name… it got you even wetter. Your cunt glistening and showing how much you missed Megumi’s cock and his fingers. He feels bad, seeing you this needy all because how busy he’s been.

And he’s tempted— there’s this thing upon him who’s howling like a beast to fuck you right there. Loving how he’s the one touching your skin, and knowing you’re a devil in between the sheets and not an angel like most people say.

He corrupted you.

And he loved that.

And there’s nothing you can do about it— ‘What a dirty. needy. whore. Couldn’t wait for your man to come back home and give you the real thing?’ — You watched Megumi as he entered the room, tilting his head to the side, contemplating what to do with you. He started unbuckling his belt and then started climbing to the bed— making you go backwards and try to get away from him but he was faster. He grabbed you by the ankles and positioned you so you're laid down completely under him, while he throws his belt somewhere else in the floor and frees his rock hard dick out of his briefs.

‘Y-you were s’busy this days I couldn’t stop myself. I needed you ‘Gumi…’— You said between mumbles, trying to look everywhere else but his eyes. His dominating aura drowning all your excitement and turning it into getting even wetter and clenching your hole waiting for his next action. — ‘So that’s why you’ve been such a nasty girl? Sending me those pictures? You know i’m yours baby, and I can easily dump the mission just to fuck you everywhere. No need to tease me, just say the words, and i’ll fuck you.’

‘Fuck me Megumi.’ — With no words needed he took off his shirt, one of his hands supporting him while with the other he lines himself so he could thrust into you. ‘F-Fuck… did you got tighter? Tsk. Even after fucking yourself with those poor little fingers? What a cute little thing.’ — His thrusts became harder each time he accustomed to your hole again, groans coming out of him while all you could do was moan out his name. Praying for the neighbors to not come tomorrow and ask for you to stay quiet.

It’s not the first time nor the last one, so fuck it.

‘I-I… Fuck… I still remember when you got me waiting in the dorms hallway to take me to your room and the fuck the soul out of you— A-Ah!… Now look.. at. us. now.’ — Each word came with a harder thrust than the last one, keeping a rough pace while kissing and pushing himself to talk to you. ‘Want me to continue fucking you like some rabbits in heat? Breed you? Oh god…’

He let out a moan that later sounded like a whine after saying those last words to you. ‘Fill you up and get you all rounded with my baby inside of you?… Shit- You’ll look soo… so… good.’

His thrusts became faster this time, putting you into a mating press, while he marked your neck. — Your vision started becoming dizzy, he started hitting all the right spots and once his hand found your clit and started rubbing it you exploded. Forming a white ring between the union of you two. Moans turned into screams and whines of trying to contain yourself from cumming again.

Words not even forming and just small sounds that sounded like hiccups coming out of you. He tried to stop himself from whimpering when he started feeling the tingly stimulation of your hole clenching his cock and electric feeling of almost reaching his high. Making his legs get shaky— he couldn’t keep hitting you because a loud whimper came out of him once he started thrusting even faster.

Your cunt gladly accepts him every time, cum coming out of you with every thrust. Your vision completely full of small black points and feeling your tummy getting a very full and tingly feeling, until finally a scream dressed as a moan came out from you, liquids and cum coming out of you with no warning— Coating Megumi’s cock way too much, it got really slippery and his cock almost slipped your cunt every time he thrusted.

‘Ffuccckk… S'wet. All f’me’ His thrusts became erratic, feeling his cock grow harder trying to find his release— pinning your hands below your head while his other free arm finds your clit and starts rubbing it, feeling another orgasm coming out from you. ‘S-shit, what if we have a baby? uh-huh~ Fucking you everyday, every place just to make sure you’re full of my cum.’ Every time he thrusts inside of you a small bump would form in your tummy, hitting your g-spot perfectly— someway getting even more deep inside you could swear his cock was in your throat.

‘M-me’gumi~ Please…’ He chuckled at your loss of consciousness, something inside of him growing proudly thanks to how good he’s making you feel, he could resist it any more and big your neck while he dumped his cum inside of you.

Sighs filled the room, noticing Megumi came hard because strips of cum wouldn’t stop coming out of him— cum already slipping out of your cunt without releasing himself from you.

‘Shit.’ He looked down where the both of you’re connected and saw the cum coming out of the both of you without even freeing his cock out of you— Which brought a tingly feeling and movement from his cock, like waking up by surprise.

‘Think you can with another round baby?’

[sniigura-archive]

All we have is time.

Adam x fem!reader

Summary: Ignorance is bliss, but sadly you aren’t an idiot.

Part 1 Part 2

CW/TW: Porn, COLLEGE AUU, TW:Adam Oral M reciving, one sided pinning, possessive behaviour, please tell me if i missed something, Choking, breeding kink, unsafe sex, toxic relation ship and attachment , implied mental heath issues on readers side

Basically I wrote this for @namazunomegami and I but u guys can read it too ig /j

The drive to your friends house to meet for lunch was painful. For you at least, your friend had a blast. Asking you questions which you didn’t really want to answer. For someone who claimed to hate Adam she sure was interested in knowing about his performance in bed.

Once your friend parked, you made sure to take 2 steps at once when you walked about the stairs, quickly knocking at your friends door. You didn’t take the elevator, since you were too afraid to be stuck in a small room with her.

“…And like, is it true that he has a you-know-what piercing? How does that even work, does it hurt you? Or is extra stimulation…?” She was right on your trail.

The door opened and your other friend looked annoyed, her brows were furrowed and she had a scowl on her pretty face, “What the fuck? Did no one teach-“

You pushed past her into her unfairly huge living room, making sure that all 3 of your friends are in the room when you made your confession, “I slept with Adam and now she won’t leave me alone!” You pointed your finger at your pestering friend, Bernadette.

Bernadette grinned like she was experiencing joy for the first time, “Twice! She slept with him twice!”

You groaned loudly, covering your face with your hands to avoid the stares of everyone. You flopped down onto the soft couch.

“Oh my god? Details?”

“..Wait was that why you disappeared at the parties? You were fucking Adam..or more like Adam was fucking you. My, My.” Your other 2 friends chimed in, a couple who moved in together after 1 month of dating and have been going up and down ever since. So you feel like they can’t judge you. But they’re also lesbians and that’s basically part of their culture so like maybe you’re really the odd one out.

“You guys are acting like we are dating. Can we talk less about my sex life and do more eating?” You whined out. Daring to look up towards your whole three friends, you gave them your best impression of puppy dog eyes.

Monica sighed and twirled a black strand of coily hair around her finger, her short but still perfectly manicured pink nails were in a stark contrast to her dark hair. Her girlfriend, Dymphna, gave you a once over with a slight smirk on her face. Her bleached hair perfectly framing her soft face.

“Why do you never want to over share sex details with us?” Bernadette whined. For someone who acted at first like that was worst thing to ever happen to her, she sure was chipper now. MAN.

“Bro, it would be, like, really hypothetical of me to break up with the extra for sharing all of our sex details only to turn around and do the same to my friends!” You told them sternly.

That wasn’t the only reason you broke up with him, but it summoned it up pretty well. He was Adam’s drummer, and him being part of the band was his first red flag. Other warning signs were his selfish behaviour in and outside the bedroom, him NEVER defending you against his mother, and shit talking you behind your back towards the band. It was a nasty on and off relationship, with him constantly breaking up with you for whatever reason floated around his head and you took him back ever time. That changed once you found out just how exactly he talks about you to his friends, it was the last straw.

Sometimes you wonder what Adam thinks of the, mostly made up, stories he has heard from your ex. Is that why he sought you out?

“Bae, that’s different. He’s a guy. We are girls, which means we are better, and we share everything.” Dymphna chimed in.

The back and forth went like that for a while, lunch passed and so did dinner and before you knew it you were camped out in your friends living room. This isn’t the first time lunch escalated to a sleepover, so you were prepared. While you were chilling under your blanket, your friends started up their questioning again.

You know that Adam wouldn’t care if you shared sex details with your friends, or anyone else really. Matter of fact, you think it would stroke his ego badly. What you were more worried about is spilling too much. His intense possessiveness, the fact that he herded you into a exclusive relationship. One sided exclusive relationship? His stare, lowkey stalkerish behaviour, his soft touches, the way he looks at you when he thinks you aren’t noticing. The emotional charged atmosphere in the car.

“So it’s casual, right?” Monica asked carefully. At some point you got pissed off with everyone hounding you for answers.

“Yeah. What else would it be? Has he ever had a serious relationship in college?”

“Hmm. Well, he does talk sometimes about dates he went to. One time he bitched and moaned in practice about a girl he went on multiple dates with, who talked about equality but didn’t want to pay for the date. Man, he didn’t stop talking about that for weeks. I wonder how Lute can deal with him?” The last part was more mumbled to herself than anything. Her girlfriend was draped over her lap while the both sat on the couch.

Adam and Lute run a female-only self defence club, which is affectionately called the The Exorcists. Monica and Dymphna met at the club during their freshman year. This also meant they're more familiar with Adam than you.

Bernadette was already passed out besides you, her soft snores filled the air.

“You know the story about his ex-girlfriends?” Dymphna whispered, conscious of your sleeping friend.

“Only a bit. Dated two girls in highschool, both cheated. The second one somehow screwed him over, hard. Got kicked out of his father’s house, lived with his mother…Did I miss something?”

“That summons it up... Do you think he was into you before the final break up?” Monica chimed in.

And you think of the times where you were single for a small time, at party’s and gatherings and at campus, were Adam approached you. But you were so far up your heart ache that you simply repressed all those memories. Oh my god. The memories crashed into you like a wave.

“…Naahh. Barley saw him before that.” You tried to avoid the topic, by badly lying. You see them exchange knowing glances, but you just ignore that. Like everything else uncomfortable in your life you ignore. Avoidance above everything else.

Maybe you’re just fucking delusional and your own ego went to your head.

“Wait! So at the last party you skipped out on you were already sleeping with each other, right?”

“Yeah…Why?”

Another glance was exchanged between the couple, which started to piss you off. You hate third wheeling.

Dymphna sat up, rubbing at her eye, “Huh. Well…Hmmm..Adam seemed kinda pissed of at the party. He seemed to be looking for…something. But! Don’t worry about it.”

You threw your head back into your pillow, trying to hide away. Jesus. Your friends chuckled at you, while they got up.

“Be careful, I think if you break Adam’s heart Lute will have to tranq gun him down. Literally.” Monica giggled at the thought.

They both kissed your cheek while wishing you a goodnight, returning to their bedroom.

Even though it usually doesn’t happen to you, you couldn’t fall asleep. As much as you turned in your makeshift bed, sleep didn’t come easy to you. It’s midnight now, and the only comfort you have is your professor cancelling all the classes for the day, so it’s not like you had to wake up early.

You did have an obgyn appointment tho, to talk over birth control options for you. After that you had to work a shift. Ugh. What you wouldn’t give to be rich, but, well, this is why you’re the first one in your family to go to college. Breaking the cycle, or whatever Bernadette is always babbling about.

In the end you lost the fight to whatever demon you were fighting in your mind and you pulled out your phone from the charger and started mindlessly scrolling.

A message appeared on the top of your screen from Adam. Damn. Ok. You opened the chat log.

[Adam Godfree]: University at Albany Study: Semen Eases Depression in Women {Link} 22:34PM

[Adam Godfree]: u up tits? 12:22AM

[Reader]: Yes. 12:22AM

You see the type bubble appear and disappear for a solid minute. This isn’t the first time Adam had texted you at an ungodly hour, asking if you’re up. It’s the first time though where you respond. You rub your hand over your face, feeling stupid all of the sudden. Before you could throw your phone away Adam responded.

[Adam Godfree]: yeah??? 12:24AM

[Adam Godfree]: want me to pick u up bbae 12:24AM

[Adam Godfree]: or i can come over idgaf 12:24

[Adam Godfree]: whatever gets me in that tight pusssssy 12:25AM

[Reader]: I’m at Monica and Dymphna’s right now. 12:25AM

[Adam Godfree]: my fave lesbos 12:25Am

[Adam Godfree]: i can pick you up where ever when ever baby 12:26AM

[Adam Godfree]: jus say the word 12:26AM

You started chewing at your lips, fuck. It’s not like you could sleep and as you learned from the two last times, nothing puts you more to sleep than having Adam rearrange your guts. You looked over to Bernadette snoring besides you, her whole body was arranged like a pretzel. She was a heavy sleeper, so you wouldn’t wake her up. And hearing suspicious sounds from your friends bedroom means also they wouldn’t notice you fucking off.

Your nerves would have been stilled if you knew how Adam was nervously pacing around in his own empty apartment.

[Reader]: {Location} 12:28AM

[Adam Godfree]: be there in 10 12:28AM

SHIT. Ok, deep breaths you got this. Looking around for your bag, you realised you had to pack exactly 0. You ha shoved everything recklessly into your bag, but it was all there. Making really sure you got everything, you rubbed at your face and neck, to get the nervousness out. Why are you so nervous?? That guy literally shoved his tongue up your pussy you actually need to chill.

Before you realised it, eight minutes have already passed. Carefully gathering your bag and jacket, you simply slipped into your shoes without tying them. Walk of shame vibes without having done the shameful part yet. Slipping into your jacket, you left the apartment and made your way to the elevator. You wish you had an elevator in your building. You’re pretty sure you saw a rat last week just chilling in the staircase.

Pressing the button and patiently waiting for the elevator you decided to text in the group chat where your whereabouts will be. Before anyone thinks you ran away or something.

Getting into the elevator you made your way down, till you left the building through the huge automatic glass doors. Looking around, you tried to remember what the fuck Adam’s car looked like. Expensive, for sure. But everything here was expensive so you were lost. Making another sweep of the street, you spotted Adam’s car, but only because you spotted Adam first. He was typing away at his phone.

Walking over, you opened the passenger door and got in. You simply put your bag in-front of your feet. Adam seemed slightly startled but he quickly catches himself once he saw it was you. You muttered out a small ‘Hi’ while sighing. As soon as you were in Adam’s presence you felt the tiredness creeping in. Weird.

“Hey, baby. How’s it going?” He murmured out, he grasped his huge hand against the nape of your neck and clashes your lips into each other.

Adam kept it PG for the first 5 seconds, which honestly made you proud of him, after that he threw out any decency and tangled your tongues together. Grasping his shoulders to push him gently away from you, you could have sworn you heard him straight up whine quietly.

“Alright, pussy pleaser, how about you drive to your place? So we can finally have sex in a bed. I can’t take another semi-public place.” You told him teasingly.

Adam scoffed at you with a smile on his lips, “I’m surprised you can take me at all, babe.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned around to fasten your seatbelt. Adam packed away his phone (who was he texting?) and shifted the gear to pull out of the side walk. You still think your friends were full of shit. One way to find out.

Sitting up suddenly, you turned your whole body towards Adam. He averted his gaze from the road to you, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Do you ever feel like you’re going insane?” You decided to ask him.

He scratched at his chin while furrowing his brow at you, “I don’t give a shit. We gonna fuck or what?”

Oh thank god. He couldn’t care less about you.

“Yup!”

Adam gave you one last once over while slightly shaking his head at you. He pulled out into the street and started the way to his home. You were a bit relieved. The less feelings involved the better.

You watched the street lamps and different buildings pass you. You tried to take a glance into the windows, you never learned how to mind your own business. Nothing was more interesting than seeing how other people lived.

Adam smoothly parked his car at his assigned parking space. The sign had a guitar sticker besides Adam’s last name, Godfree.

Getting out of the car, you hurled your bag over your shoulder. You already thought your friends lived in a fancy neighbourhood but Adam really knows how to do everyone. Walking up towards him, since you didn’t know where the fuck to go, you looked up to him.

Adam placed his hand on your shoulder, where your bag was thrown over, and gently pushed you in-front of him. He lead the way while being behind you. His fingers weaselled its way behind the bag strap, successfully sliding it off your shoulder and slinging it across his own shoulder.

You threw a glance behind you, to find out what his plan was, but he was grinning at you.

“What kind of man would I be if I let my favourite girl carry anything?” He whispered into your ear. You felt yourself begin to flush, looking straight ahead, while Adam had his arm wrapped around your side. Walking now beside you, he dragged you into his side. Chuckling at you, he herded you to his apartment.

You were too focused on the feeling of Adam’s big, warm body besides yours to focus on anything going on around you. You’re down bad. In the trenches, basically.

Entering Adam’s apartment, you didn’t quite know what you expected but it wasn’t this. Part of you imagined a messy apartment, with dishes and trash pilling up everywhere, but that wasn’t the case. His apartment felt empty, the way Ikea display rooms feel empty. It’s nice, minimalistic even.

It’s clear to you that Adam didn’t decorate the living room. You slipped out off your shoes, everything was so sterile here you felt bad just existing. Adam took of his own shoes and jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack. He helped you out of your own jacket and hung it up.

Adam looked you up and down and started chuckling at you, “The fuck are you even wearing?”

You looked down at your pyjamas which. Yeah, was embarrassing. Your oversized t-shirt had permanent bleach and hair dye stains from adventure with your friends in it. It was a band shirt of Adam’s band, a prototype you got from your ex. Your fuzzy pants were as old as time. You bought them when you were 13, the colour was washed out. It was blue with duck prints on it. Together with more mysterious stains.

“..What? You don’t like my sleeping fit?” You looked up into his smiling face. His eyes were soft.

“Nah, babe. Nothing gets me more hard than…Fuzzy ducks. What the fuck did you even do to your clothes?” Adam grasped your hand into his, starting to lead you towards his bedroom. His fingers were squeezing yours.

“You never dyed your friends hair at 3am because her crush didn’t text her back for 15 minutes?” You smiled at the memory of Dymphna losing her mind over Monica before they got together.

“Damn, let me guess Dy? Didn’t do that, but Lute did force me to make fake accounts to test one of her toys.” Adam sniffed, “Don’t tell her I told you that. She would kill me.”

Adam opened up his bedroom door and finally you see something you were expecting. It wasn’t trash or dirt, but a few guitars strewn across the room. His big bed was shoved into a corner, it was unmade. Huge windows were covered by the curtains and his desk was surprisingly tidy. His laundry basket was overflowing. On his desk was a photo of him and Lute, they seemed happy. Everything was messy but still clean.

While you were looking around, Adam put your bag down besides his closet. For a second he simply watched you, standing in his room. He pinched himself, trying to get his shit together.

You heard Adam walk towards you, you turned around and Adam grasped your face into his hands, he bend down and kissed you. Soft. Gently. Lovingly. Your heart sped up.

His body was towering over yours, his huge hands on your face and he started to lead you towards his bed. He pushed you softly unto the plush surface, while you laid on his bed he took of his sweater, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

He smirked down at you, grasping at your knees and spreading your legs apart,

“Tell me, baby, do you rub that pretty pussy to the thought of me? Huh?” His tone was arrogant, like he knew the answer to that already.

Which, yeah, he did. Busted. Are you that predictable?? You were going to die on the spot. You covered the lower half of your face with your hand.

“…Maybe.” Your voice was small. Your own pride was too big to admit to that. Shit.

Adam’s hands grasped at your hips, his thumbs were gently massaging your skin. His hands wandered down, grabbing at the waistband of your pants he pulled it and your underwear off your body carefully. Like unwrapping a present.

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

“Wha…Why?”

“ ‘m not gonna touch you till you give me a show, slut.” Adam kneeled down before the bed between your legs, his head in his hand, the elbow resting on the blanket. His eyes were focused on you.

Fuckfuckfuck.

You bit down on your lip. Who would win in this stare off? Not you for sure.

Avoiding his sharp eyes, you slowly spread your legs further apart. Adam’s eyes moved from your face to your glistening pussy. He started to smile at the sight.

A thought popped up in your head. Adam loves physical touch, that much is clear. You just have to give him the best show ever and forbid him from touching you, as a little revenge. Teasing him will be fun. Hopefully. He’s going to eat you alive.

Your hand moved from your chest, to your stomach, to your cunt. Making sure Adam could see everything, you spread your folds apart with your fingers. You heard him hitch his breath. Ok. You can do this. Adam is obviously infatuated with you, so hopefully you can’t disappoint him. Too much.

Starting gently, you gathered some wetness on your middle and ring finger from your dripping hole. Rubbing slow circles into your clit, your lip got caught between your teeth while you tried to stifle a moan.

Adam shuffled on his knees, his one hand went towards his hardening dick. Rubbing at his bulge through his sweatpants he groaned slightly at the sight of you. This really was his favourite fucking show.

“You like that, whore? Do like touching yourself for me?” Adam spoke in a breathy tone.

You wish you had mastered dirty talk like Adam, but part of you just wishes to hide away forever. The other part wants to get dicked down by Adam constantly. So yeah, your mind is pretty torn apart.

“Uh-Hu.” You simply gasped out, who needs words when you can just moan.

Fingers moving from your pulsing clit, you started to slowly enter them into your cunt. Pumping them in and out, the frustrating truth was that your fingers were much smaller than Adam’s dick. Or his fingers. So the places he could reach were basically unknown territory to you.

“ Shit, babe, need me to help that greedy pussy out?” Adam looked into your eyes up. Fucking hell. Sexiest man alive.

He started sitting up, his hands reaching out towards your thighs.

You placed your foot on his shoulder, pushing him down. Usually Adam’s eyes were sharp, like that of a hawks, but right now he reminded you of a puppy with the way he looked up at you with round eyes.

“Why don’t you beg a bit for it, Adam? What makes you think you deserve it?” You tried to make your voice as sultry as possible. It felt more shaky than anything.

Now it was Adam’s turn to be flustered, his face was flushed and he covered his mouth with his hand. Ah. Did you over do it? Before you could take your words back, Adam leaned his head against your ankle, nuzzling the skin there. He avoided eye contact.

“..Fuuuuck, woman, you got me so fucking pussy whipped. You know how down bad I am? Nobody squeezes my dick like you do. Shit….Please, let me fuck that holy like cunt.” Adam grumbled out, him being submissive was hot as fuck. Maybe you should gag him next time. Or tie him up? That’d be hot.

You sat up more, removing your fingers to grasp at Adam’s bare shoulders, “…Damn, Adam. Please stuff me full.”

That was all it took for Adam pounce on you, he grasped his hands under your back, throwing you towards the pillows. Your landing was cushioned, thankfully. Adam crawled over you, towering over you with his much bigger body. Your talent is really biting off more than you can chew.

Adam leaned down to whisper in your ear, “That was really hot, sugar tits, honestly. But we really gotta give you some good lessons on how to properly dom, don’t cha think? We can remember that for next time, now we gotta focus on filling you up real nice ‘n good.”

You simply nodded at Adam’s words, you want him so bad. You hope he wants you just as bad.

He clashed his lips into your own, teeth clanking together and spit being exchanged like it’s your only life force. As if this could heal you, heal you both. You think it does, a bit.

Adam’s warm hands snaked themselves under your shirt, his hands exploring your body. He stopped the kiss to take your shirt off, now you were completely naked, while Adam was still wearing his sweatpants.

“A bit unfair, no?” You ask him, while trailing your fingers over his stomach, towards his happy trail to then tug at the waistband of his sweats. His dick was straining against the grey cloth. A dark spot of pre cum was forming.

Adam chuckled, “Everything for my favourite slut.” He teasingly dragged his sweats down slowly, together with his underwear.

His dick sprang free and it was once again clear that your fingers could not compare to Adam’s sheer size. You already felt a phantom stretch in your pussy at the sight of him.

Adam started kissing at your neck while his hand massaged your tit, pulling and pinching at the nipple. You whined. Once you felt him trying to leave marks on your neck, you pushed his face away from your skin.

“Ok. New rule. No marks beyond the cleavage. I’m serious, don’t laugh! Spring is coming and I can’t walk around looking like I just got mauled.” You told him.

“Sure you can. And when you do and I see you I can remember how you milked me dry and everyone knows you’re spoken for.” Adam tried to sound convincing, he was, but you don’t want to die of a heat stroke just because Adam has some weird issues going on.

You simple glared at him, reaching out and tugging at his nipple piercing roughly.

“Ouch! Fucking bitch. Okay, okay. Got it.” He grumbled out, but he started smirking again, which was never good, “Doesn’t mean you can’t leave marks on me tho, baby. Equality and all that shit.”

Dragging him down by his nape, you tugged at his hair while frenching him. Why is he so dreamy? Or more like what’s wrong with you? Doesn’t really matter in the great scheme of things. This whole thing is to casually have fun. Totally casual. Yeah.

Adam spread your legs apart slightly, rubbing at your pussy with his finger, he slowly slipped one finger in and then the other. Pumping his fingers in and out of you, he was mumbling stuff you didn’t quite catch. Something about prepping you properly. Thank god for that because otherwise he would split you apart.

Slipping in the third and final finger, he curled them up, causing you to moan Adam’s name like a prayer. Maybe you are praying to him.

Feeling Adam remove his fingers made you whine out for him. Yeah you really need dom lessons from him, a bit of pleasure and you’re brain dead. That’s embarrassing, low-key.

Settling between your legs, Adam rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit.

“Ugh, prettiest pussy on the whole campus. Believe me, slut.” He whispered to himself.

Sometimes you wonder how much Adam is aware of the fact that you can hear basically his inner monologue. Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t know it.

Slowly slipping into your warm, wet hole Adam groaned at the feeling of you enveloping him completely. Some sick, locked away part of him is happy that you didn’t mention condoms.

Adam started to slowly rock your hips together, the pressure was building up in your abdomen. Reaching under your thighs, Adam pressed them towards your chest, reminding you off a pretzel. He reached even more sensitive spots inside you with that angle.

Seeing and hearing you be so satisfied made him pick up the pace.

“..Ya know what this position is called?..Fuck!..It’s..Ah..Called mating press, baby….You wanna be..ugh.. my little breeding mate? Huh?” Adam grunted out.

Shit, his dick piercing was rubbing against your walls. Fuck, Adam has been barley inside of you for 10 minutes and you already feel like exploding. At least Adam also looks like he’s going to bust any minute.

Man, and he hasn’t even touched your clit. He has an incredible effect on you. Well, more like on your pussy. You never thought pregnancy was hot till now. You literally let the guy spit in your mouth.

Scratching up his back, you decided to make him regret saying that you could mark him up as much as you pleased. Fucker. Your lips searched for Adam’s skin, you dragged his face towards yours. You kissed the side of his mouth, he tried to catch your lips into his, but you moved on.

Lips crashed into his cheek and chin and nose, till you finally found his neck. You made sure to kiss, suck and lick as hard as possible. Everywhere you could. Adam groaned straight up in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Want to mark me up, heh. Show everyone who I belong to? Shit.” Adam grasped at your hips to keep you still, to fuck into you.

“Love when you do that. When you hit that spoo-Ah- spot!” You called out to Adam, to spur him on. To have him fuck your harder. You felt juices run down your thighs.

“Oh yeah?..Tell me what else you love?” He groaned out.

“Adam! Right there, please. I..Uhh…Love your dick…?” It was more a question than a statement.

“Fuck. I’ll take it.” Adam kept up his pace, and you felt your toes curling, your legs tensing up, while you locked your ankles behind Adam’s back, to keep him inside of you.

Your orgasm crashed over you, like an electric shook cursing through your body. Feeling you clench around him, Adam couldn’t keep up much longer and he came inside you.

The sensation of having Adam’s hard dick pulse inside you, while his hot seed is spilling inside you made you sob out at the overstimulating feeling.

Adam rubbed his big, warm hands over sweaty body in a soothing manner. What a man.

While Adam was kissing your cheek, chin and nose, you felt your heartbeat slow down. Reaching around blindly, you fished out your pyjama shirt and slipped it over your head. Adam’s eyes never left your form and neither did his hands.

He put on his underwear, to then pull you into his arms, being the big spoon. You were already half gone, cuddled into the blanket with Adam.

With Adam it felt like, he was born to be domestic and monogamous but forced to frat and fuck around.

You couldn’t spare more energy on that thought, since you were already drifting off.

———————————————

Waking up in Adam’s bed, with Adam’s arms loosely wrapped around you felt surreal. Light was peaking out of the curtains. You had no clue what time it was. It felt like morning. Was it morning?

You had to take your medication. You really didn’t want Adam to know you’re on meds. That’s really non of his business. You don’t even want it to be your business, to be honest. Rummaging through your bag like a crazy woman would very much wake him up. You had to find the bath.

Slowly and carefully getting up, you crawled out of Adam’s alaskan king size bed. Jesus his bed was nearly as big as your whole apartment. Adam was a big guy, though. He does need a big bed. Imagine him squeezing him in your bed made you smile, but also made your neck ache for him.

You took your bag, which was ungracefully put besides Adam’s closet, and walked into the living room. Where was the bathroom? Looking at the choice of 3 doors, one obviously the front door, the other two where a mystery. Adam’s apartment had an open concept, so you saw that one of the doors isn’t the kitchen door, since you could directly look into it.

Deciding to just open the door closest to you, you were happy to see that it was the bathroom. The other must be like a guest room, or a storage space. Or whatever.

Gently closing the door behind you, you started searching for your pill bottle in your bag. You ended up spilling out your whole bag on the bathroom floor to find that stupid thing. Taking out your doses, you placed the pill under your tongue and started up the sink to gather some water in your hand. Swallowing everything, you closed the tap.

Feeling Adam’s cum run down your thigh made you cringe. Should you shower? Would he be mad if you used his shower? What the fuck why would he get mad at you for using his shower, that guy cums inside you now regularly. You have to get your shit together.

Before you could take your shirt off, you heard a door slam and Adam yelling,

“What the fuck! That fucking cunt! Where fucking-“ You heard him put on his clothes outside the door.

Carefully opening the bathroom door, you made awkward eye contact with a half dressed Adam. A beat of silence passed.

“..Are you good?” You decided to ask him.

His breathing was calming down, and he rubbed a hand over his face. He avoided eye contact with you.

“Yeah, totally. I…I have this, like, crazy neighbour, you know?” He tried to weasel his way out of the conversation.

“Adam, I think you might be the crazy neighbour.” You simply told him.

His head whipped towards you, he glared at you, stepping closer to you and pointing a finger at you, “Alright, listen here you-“

Before he could continue his sentence, you hooked your own pointer finger against his.

“Wanna take a shower with me?” You looked up to him, with hopeful eyes. You tugged him towards you, with your intervened fingers.

By simply looking at him, you knew Adam was losing the resolve he had to be mad at you. Thank god.

Adam took off his wrinkly shirt, throwing it into the abyss. Same with his other cloth articles. All you had to do was take off your shirt. While you stepped into the shower, Adam’s eyes wandered across your spilled out bag items.

You were playing around with the water settings and temperature when you felt Adam wrap his arms across your stomach. You leaned back against his soft stomach and broad chest. Once you were satisfied with everything you ducked under the water, feeling the warm water envelope you made your muscles relax.

When you looked around, you weren’t surprised to see a 1 in 3 shampoo bottle. Once you made sure that your hair was soaked properly, you tried to reach out for the bottle but Adam was faster than you.

He spun you around so you were facing him and he then squirted a generous amount of soap into his hand. He massaged the soap gently into your hair, then he moved on to your body. He threw away any chastity he tried to keep up, his hands were massaging your tits. His lips meet your own, and he bit his teeth into them. You couldn’t suppress the moan leaving your mouth.

He moved his hands towards your hips, dragging your crotch towards his already harding dick. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

Adam helped you rins off the soap from your hair and body, he kept leaving kisses on your face and neck while doing so. He turned you so his body was shielding you from the water. Damn his height and build.

With his hands on your shoulders he lightly pushed you down on your knees. So, here you were kneeling down in front of Adam. His totally not intimidating dick hang before you, thick and heavy.

You have heard the term breeder balls, and you never really had an image in your mind till you saw Adam. Looking up at him, you saw him smirk down at you. Grasping your cheeks into his hand, he squeezed your lips apart.

“Wanna please daddy? Suck my dick real good?” Adam told you with a shark like grin.

You swallowed down the extra spit collecting in your mouth, Adam just mad you nervous. Made your stomach flutter and your thighs clench.

Reaching out your hand, you started to slowly wrap your fingers around Adam’s cock. Your fingers barley met, and you started stroking him back and forth. Your thumb rubbed over his tip, the pre cum was collecting rapidly. Adam’s hand went to your head, he was pushing away your hair from your face.

“You teasin’ me?” Adam mumbled out. He tugged at your hair in a threatening manner.

Taking his dick in his own hand, he lightly slapped your cheek with it.

“How about you clean my dick for me? Open up wiiiiiiide.” Man, you didn’t even need to look at him to see the wide grin in his face.

Opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue, you let Adam rub his tip against your tongue. The salty and slightly bitter taste of his pre cum hit your taste buds. It could be worse, for sure.

Adam eased his dick into your mouth, with every shallow trust he put more and more and more down your throat. You tried to breath through your nose, tried to steady yourself. He didn’t bother letting you set the pace, simply starring into your face to gauge your reactions, to not push you too far.

Your hands rested on his bulky thighs, your nails digging into skin and hair. You kept your lips over your teeth, to not hurt him. Using your tongue to massage his dick as best as possible, you also hollowed out your cheeks, to suck him properly in.

“Such a pretty face, would be a waist to fuck you any way where I can’t see it. You want me to cum down your throat? Sure you do, all the bitches love that.” Maybe you should bit his dick. Fucker.

Adam, head pusher, Godfree thrusted his dick further and further down your throat. His pace was getting faster and rougher. Just how he was with your pussy. An especially deep push made you choke and gag. You pushed yourself off Adam’s dick, to catch your breath and not to throw upon his dick. That would be embarrassing.

He petted your hair gently, while waiting for you, “..Why did you take your bag with you?” He quietly asked you.

“..Uhh..I..wanted to get..just dressed.” Man you’re a bad liar.

Adam pinched your cheek with his fingers, it bordered on painful. He just starred down at you. Usually you could easily read him, he was very expressive and voiced any kind of emotion he’s going through. Verbally and nonverbally. This time tho, his face was blank. The usual pleasant nervous you felt around Adam turned into dread.

He simply hummed at you, pushing your head towards his dick. You took him back into your mouth. He returned towards his rough pace, making you choke slightly but this time you recovered quicker.

“ ‘m gonna cum down your little throat.” Was the only warning you got, before Adam held your head still to fuck into your mouth. Feeling him cum down your throat was sure an experience.

Adam, because he’s an asshole, decided to pinch your nose, to keep you from breathing. It was only for a few seconds, but it was enough to push yourself off him once he was gone and to

take in air greedily. Motherfucker.

Leaning towards him, you bit into his thigh. As hard as you could. Usually when you bit him you try to mind your teeth, this time you hoped he bled.

With a painful yelp Adam quickly pulled you off of him.

“Why the fuck did you do that?!” He angrily asked you.

“Why fucking choke me, dumbass?” You asked back with the same energy.

“Babe, what’s the big deal? I can promise you, if you sat on my face and choked me? I would cum in my pants. Straight up.”

“Fuck off.”

Roughly grasping your jaw into his hand, he was seething and it was a borderline painful sensation.

“Why take your fucking bag with you?”

Shaking him off you, you rubbed at your jaw,

“That’s non of your business.” You hissed out at him.

You saw Adam’s tongue poke his cheek, a bitter smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah, right.” Adam grasped you under your arms, picking you up. For a second he simple held you up like a rag doll. You felt small and helpless, you hated that. With a hand on your shoulder he forced you out of the shower, into the cold air. Adam picked up a bathing rob and put it on you.

And even though he was clearly pissed off at you, he was still careful when dressing you. He draped a towel over your head, he then grasped your arm and threw you out of the bathroom, he locked the door once you were out.

What the hell?

Wait.

“Adam! Give me my fucking bag!” You hammered a fist against the door.

“Whaaat? Sorry, baby, I can’t hear youuuuu.” He turned the shower up more to drown out the sound of you cursing him out.

There’s no use in yelling at Adam, you knew that. Stomping towards his bedroom, you threw yourself into the soft bed. Sitting up, you looked around. Seeing a clock at the bed site table showed you it’s roughly 6:30 AM. Damn. No wonder you felt so tired. Ah, your phone was on there too. You didn’t see it in your bag, you thought it would be by the closet. Dropping out of your messy bag. Adam probably put it there.

Picking it up you simply looked through your notifications. Nothing exciting was going on. You should probably just sleep. Putting in a reasonable alarm, and putting it back on the little table, you cuddled up under Adam’s soft blanket. Everything smelled like him. That was nice.

Before you fully drifted off, you heard the bathroom door unlock. You sat up properly, to see Adam enter the room. It seemed like he calmed down. Couldn’t be you. He put down your packed bag back near the closet. Ugh.

“Ever heard of privacy and boundaries?”

“Naw, don’t believe in that bullshit.”

Yeah, you could fucking tell.

Adam sat down at the edge of the bed, looking at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. He was scratching at the stubbles at his chin.

“..I don’t give a fuck if you’re on meds. If that’s why you were acting so fucking shifty.”

“I don’t care about your opinion! I care if I have to take that shit! And believe me, I genuinely wish I didn’t need it. I’d rather just…be normal and fit in.” Your voice got smaller at the end. You want nothing more than to fit in.

Adam sighed, “..Well, how were your shitty little friends supposed to find you, if you were like everyone else?” He grasped your neck gently and your foreheads touched each other while you gazed into each others eyes, “..How would I have found you if you didn’t stand out?”

You felt your eyelashes get wet, tears gathering in your eye. Damn. Okay.

You sniffed and rubbed the water from your eyes.

“…Let’s sleep.”

Adam grunted in agreement. Lots of excitement for one morning. Laying back down, you felt Adam’s arms wrap around you once again.

And when you woke up a few hours later, Adam had a tight grip on you and had you pressed against the wall. So you couldn’t escape this time.

[eevees-hobbies]

Just hear me out… you already having a baby w the bofurin and shishitoren boys (loml big dick Togame) and saying “our baby is so cute, i want another one” and they’re like “yeah? you want me to give you another baby?” And then boom they’re fucking another baby into you 🤭 (nobody look at me PLS)

Author’s Note: Part of the “Let That Man Breed You 2024” campaign! 

Content Warning: TW: Pregnancy. TW: Sexualization of the Pregnant Body. TW: Body Changes As a Result of Pregnancy. Heavy breeding kink, lactation fetish, Togame likes you dependent on him while you’re pregnant. He calls you mama. Getting your brains fucked out, mention of creampie. And as always, every pregnancy is different, and your mileage may vary! Minors Do Not Interact. 

Word Count: 1.2K

Babies can be fairly precarious things. They consume your life as soon as you conceive them, taking up real estate in your womb, wreaking havoc on your senses, and using your bladder as their personal trampoline. And when they’re born? You eat, sleep, and breathe “baby” because “baby” is your new way of life.

But do you know what else babies are good at? When they look at you with big, bright eyes, squeezing your finger in their small, delicate hand, and giving you a sweet giggle, they are remarkably good at convincing you that those sleepless nights weren’t so bad. Witching hour? More like party hour! Foul-smelling diapers? You don’t need your sense of smell anyway!

Beautiful black curls, chubby cheeks, and doe-sized emerald green eyes are to blame for the position you’re in–literally and figuratively speaking, of course.

You found yourself turning to Togame after putting your little one to sleep, your mouth already moving before your brain could truly comprehend the weight of your words: “He’s so cute, Jo. I want to make another one.”

Famous last words and all that.

And that’s why you’re now bent over, face-down, and ass perched as high as a back arch will allow in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom with Togame’s cock buried so deep inside your cunt that your eyes are watering.

“Mmm, you want me to put another baby in you, mama?”

You bite your lip, hiccuping through the intensity of him stirring your guts, and give him a nod. You can see his face in the reflection of the mirror—he’s brandishing his signature lazy, half-smile, but his eyes are as if in a trance as they sweep over your body, admiring the way your juicy cunt swallows his cock with each hard backshot he delivers. His cock-head is repeatedly bullying the spot that makes you cry out with each thrust, feeling so good that your thighs have been trembling since you both started and show no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“Y-yeah, baby! W-wanna girl this time!”

He grunts, his hand grabbing a fistful of your ass and not regretting being rough in the slightest as each plea, demand, whimper, grunt, and whine he elicits from you only makes him more entranced.

He loves how you ask—and beg—for him to breed you. Togame had always considered himself a simple man. Kinks? Eh, he had preferences, sure, and certain things got him more riled up than most, but he became a changed man as soon as you became pregnant with his son.

It makes him a different, less in-control being thinking about your belly growing round again, the cute waddle that you’ll develop because you can’t see your feet, and this is one of the more critical and selfish reasons, but he loves that you’ll need him for absolutely everything.

“Togame, help me stand up.”

“Ugh, Togame, please help me tie my shoe.”

“Togame, need yoooooou.”

And while none of those reasons may be sexual in nature–maybe the desire for your dependency on him might be, but that’s an analysis for a different day–there are sexual fantasies and kinks that he is able to live out while you’re carrying his child. 

He loves having you ride him, fully pregnant, as you bounce on his dick. At first, you were hesitant to do so, scared that the added weight of the additional human housed inside you would be too much, but he simply grabbed your hand and guided your wrist to his mouth, where he placed a trail of soft, languid kisses.

“You don’t need to worry about any of that. Now, ride me, pretty girl.”

And when you finally got out of your own head? Trivial thoughts about your new body vanished because how can anyone focus with 9 inches of cock buried inside of them? Definitely not you!

Togame looked up at you and swore that if he died at that moment, he might not be too upset about it. His hands cupping your already swollen and heavy breasts as you grip and grind at his cock is the closest he’s ever felt to cumming inside of you faster than he ever thought possible.

“Baby,” he coos, “you’re doing so good bouncin’ on my dick, but say the word, and I’ll take over.”

He loves how wide your hips have gotten after carrying and birthing your first child, his hands always somehow finding a way to squeeze you there, even in public. People have to look away because when he does it, it feels so intimate and laced with a sexual undertone. 

He just can’t help it because, fuck, does motherhood look good on you. 

And Togame absolutely loses his mind when you come to him, wincing in pain because the baby didn’t drink enough of your milk, so now your breasts are rock-hard, and you need relief.

“Please help me, Togame,” you whimper, voice straining to fully verbalize what you need, so you raise your hands to your chest and gently motion to your breasts. 

And to Togame, the sight is glorious; your breasts struggling to fit in your shirt and nipples managing to leak breast milk even through your padded bra? If only you knew the unholy thoughts that flow in this man’s head when you come to him in such a vulnerable state.

He’d rest his head in your lap, looking up at your darkened nipples, surrounded by a puffy areola, the tip now flowing with droplets of thick, fresh breast milk. He’ll latch his mouth around the sensitive bud, sucking in mouthfuls while his other hand squeezes the other neglected nipple, streams of milk squirting out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Thank you, baby, that feels so good.” 

And he loves the way people ogle your big belly in public as they can’t help but stare because even in the womb, Togame gives you big babies. He loves knowing that they’re thinking about him stuffing you full of his seed, creampieing you an insurmountable amount of times to get you so round, so big, so sexy. 

“Don’t worry, mama. I got ya’ I know exactly what you need.”

He delivers hard smacks to your ass, making the fat of it ripple and bounce against him as he presses his palm on your shoulder and pushes you down, your cheek now buried in the plush rug on your floor as Togame bends a long leg at your side to give him better leverage.

As your mind goes blank, and a sliver of drool escapes the corner of your mouth because god, he’s so deep, and even as you try and shift under him, the hand on your shoulder is unwavering.

“Now, now, mama. This is what you wanted, right? What you asked for? Just relax for me, and I’ll do allllll the work.”

Everything about him is just so big, his frame, his 9 inches of thick cock, and his heavy balls. It’s just so much! But you have to take it all if you want him to give you another baby. 

And to Togame, you look so good like this—ethereal even—fucked out on his cock that’s drilling into you, heavy tits squished against the floor, and so willing to take everything he has to offer you.

“Mmm, here it comes, mama. Ya ready for your first load of the night?” 

“Gonna give you that baby girl I promised.” 

“You lookin’ at yourself in the mirror, baby? Get a good look cuz you’ll be knocked up and swollen in a few months.”

@taytebby Delivery!

[yubiina]

Imagine taking care of post war Levi.

After the war is over, everyone distant from one another, Armin along with his team travel to teach the history and prevent from it repeating, Historia remains in Paradis as queen with her newborn child, some stay in Marley after the war because everything is so destroyed, some choose to go back to Paradis.

Imagine being the only one left from Levi's close squad. Sure, it might have started out rought with him (as does everybody), but you have been there through it all, hand-picked to be in his squad as one of the best soldiers for your skill and wits.

After the war he loses it all, the soldiers he's raised are building their lives and him-with nowhere to go, no place that he calls home that could miss him- you step in and tell Gabi you will be his caretaker, even if Levi protests at first.

It just dosen't seem fair, others out there are enjoying the freedom they fought so hard for, getting married, building their lives and you're stuck here, taking care of an old man that can only walk a short amount of time before needing a wheelchair, and sometimes struggles to do simple tasks.

"I got it, it's fine" he grumbles as you hold him by the arm and gently place him in the wheelchair as he groans in pain, ignoring his previous comment.

But despite what he thinks, you know deep down it's much deeper than that, it isn't just some loyal habit of carrying your duty to take care of your capitan, but rather a selfish need your heart has to keep him close, you who has no home yourself- have found a palace in his presence.

You wonder if all the things you do have caught up to Levi, to others around him - you were appearantly terrible at hiding your feelings, but mabye all that you did was all but a simple and kind act to Levi.

You wake up early every morning to prepare breakfast, making sure to shop well the previous day in order to feed him a full and loving meal. You clean more than usual, keeping him out of the house and occupied in the garden so the dust won't make him sick, even taking him to the café every morning with his newspaper in hand, a ritual you both effortlessly created with time.

Every weekend you go to buy flowers with Levi, and leave them at the memorial of fallen soldiers, his wheelchair sitting not far behind the engraved stone of his fallen comrade, as you helped him bent down and place them on the cold stone.

'(Hange Zoe) 14th Comander of the Scout Regiment'

Ever since the war ended you had picked up the hobby of baking, you always knew you had a good hand, even during your time with the scouts, where all that was available was potato, bread and some dirty carrots, you managed to make a hearty meal.

Now you bake as your heart desires, making cookies, pies and pastries that Onyakopon,Gabi and Falco enjoy too much when you head out with Levi and everyone for a picnic. And while everyone thanks you and enjoys what your hands made, you don't have the heart to tell anyone that you bake them for Levi, but give it to everyone as to mask your gesture.

It was obvious to Gabi, when you place the picnic basket on the blanket under the tree, and take out all the sandwiches and pastries you've done. You take out a glass for each for the fresh lemonade you've made, and then a special thermos of black tea and pour it for Levi.

It was obvious to Falco when you personally started buying basic medical supplies like needles, alcohol, medication, and gauze because you wanted to take care of Levi personally, after the doctor might have tired him out with walking practice.

It was obvious to Onyakopon, when he kept seeing your regularly at the fabric shop, buying the same white wool. Only to see that white wool turned into a long, soft scraf placed next to a beautiful teaset, packaged well for the Secret Santa they did for Levi's birthday.

But mabye Levi noticed too. He noticed the black tea especially made for him, and the fact that you always placed two pastries in his plate instead of one like the others.

He noticed how gentle your fingers were when they grazes his scars and lifted his leg to tend to it, as if you had found a bird with an injured wing by the window.

He noticed the suttle, but engulfing perfume scent on the new white scarf, and your taste in style when he saw the teaset. He noticed through the slightly open door, tne candlelight that came from the living room when he tried to sleep, and your prickleled hands from the sharp knitting needles.

It is then that he gets up, from his chair, paper crumpled in hand as he reaches for the telephone on the countertop to call for Gabi.

"Where is she" ignoring the fast beating of his heart that wanted to leap out of his chest.

Imagine that after all this time, you figure you need to move on, you tell Gabi you've finished working, and refuse any payment they want to give you as compensation for taking care of a retired soldier. Unable to bear with yourself anymore, after rejecting every man that made any advance, unable to look in the mirror and see someone that he could love. You grab a pen and write a final letter, leaving early in the morning for the next train to take you far away.

Imagine how you close your eyes and sigh at the view of the oncoming train, ready to steal you away, yet your legs felt heavy, and your mind waged war against you to remain unmoved.

It's only when you take the first step that you stop, you don't know if you felt his presence first, or if it was his voice, but a strong wind blew your hair away as you kept your hand near your dress to keep it down, turning your head to see him.

He stood there, stormy eyes glued on you like a target, his wheelchair a few feet away behind him. In almost a shock and slight alert you take a few steps, afraid he'll need support.

"I thought you said you were a woman of your word, what about your promise?" You admire his stable tone in what seems like such an emotional moment to him

But you hate that you know exactly what he means, you remember it very well since back then, when everyone retreated for the night and camped in the dense forest during a mission outside the walls, you stood near a lake, washing your hands and face, thr only light source being groups of fireflies that shyly flew around bushes and near water.

Levi stands right behind you, deep in thought for whatever reason he was, you call him out when feeling his eyes burn the back of your skull.

"You know you don't have to be creep" you quietly say, focused on washing the cloth in your hands, and he slowly walks near a rock.

It is then that you made a promise to him. That you promised you would not die and stand beside him as long as be lived. It was an admirable obedience and trust from a soldier towards their capitan.

"Don't tell me it dosent matter as much to you now" he bring you back to reality.

"I fufilled it didn't I? I lived and stood beside you" you almost argue back.

"And I'm still alive." He steps foward slightly, using the metal railing that slightly shook as support.

"You fufilled your promise as a soldier and i did my duty as you capitan" he now stands in front of you, it's only when you notice the crumbled up letter in his hand.

"Now let me fufill my duty as a man"

The train swooshes past you, swaying leaves in the wind and onto the sunset, with a loud honk it continued to pass on your side, but your focus was long gone as his lips remained unmoved from yours. It was that day that despite any gear training and how far on a tree you've climbed, it felt like this moment was the highest you've ever flown.

It was from then on that when you helped him to bed, he'd tuck your hair away in the morning, with a strand between his fingers until you pretended you were slowly waking up.

It was now that once you finished cooking, you'd notice Levi place a second cup of tea on the table, before sitting back down to continue his book.

It was then that he'd go and buy the flowers for the memorial, making sure to get a extra bouquet to bring home to you.

It was then that whenever anyone asked him to stay for a celebration of after party, he'd simply say no and leave.

"My wife is waiting for me at home" he says with no ring on neither of your fingers yet.

It was then that he'd feel his ego boost a bit whenever you laughed out loud at one of his unfunny shit jokes.

It is then that he notices the contrast between the feeling of you pushing your hands on his chest to keep the blood from leaving the deadly wound, to placing them gently on his chest as you rest in the afterglow of a playful afternoon.

After all, it is when you both sit close under the shade of a tree, you watch Gabi and Falco mess around in the lake-dunking one another as you reminisce a time where you swear you've seen this happen before, Levi's hand that brushed a book page, unknowingly falls on top of yours, yet it dosen't move.

Imagine it is then, when he looks up at you, that he realizes he truly-like you- may have not had a place to call home, had somehow found heaven in you.

[mojogojocasahouse]

Home With You

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: After a long mission away, Satoru returns home forgetting he doesn’t have to face the darkness alone.

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: E

Content: hurt comfort, Gojo has a headache and his past trauma is rearing its head, established relationship, smut (p-in-v sex, Gojo’s filthy mouth, multiple orgasms for both parties, it’s so desperate, I don’t know it’s Gojo, man has nasty sex. Enjoy)

It’s not dark enough tonight. He could still see too far in front of him, even through the curtain of rain pouring down from the skies. But that was the thing. He could see everything, all the fucking time.

He’d taken the long way home from Jujutsu High where he’d spent the night arguing with the higher-ups once again, rage and murderous intent boiling beneath his skin. They were going to tear down the Jujutsu world, there was no debating it, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it either. Besides killing them all, a task he was more than capable of.

The radio is humming in the background but he isn’t listening, not to that. He’s too busy focusing on the steady pattering of the downpour on the roof of the car, cursing the street lamp to the right as it blinds him even through the black fabric he’s wearing over his eyes. His head is throbbing, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, jaw tense—he could do it so quickly they wouldn’t feel a thing. It was almost a mercy. Curses would tear them apart, as would any of the enemies that seemed to be racking up faster than he could keep count, but Satoru Gojo could end them painlessly…

Knock knock knock

The tapping is gentle, his head lolling to find a sight he was both craving and avoiding distorted by the droplets rolling down the glass.

“Baby?” Your voice was so sweet even muffled through the window and the rain. “What are you doing? You’ve been out here for twenty minutes.”

Had it been that long? News to him. Actually, it felt like an eternity now that he thought about it. It had been three weeks since he’d been home, the one mission that was supposed to be three days turned into four that had kept him away from home far longer than he’d been intending to. He’d finally put his foot down just this morning—hence the verbal lashing he’d taken for “abandoning his duties when they needed him most”—telling those good-for-nothing pieces of shit that he was going the fuck home whether they liked it or not.

But now that he was home, he was hiding.

“Come inside,” you urge again, and my God he wants nothing more than to just collapse into your arms, “Dinner is almost done.”

He’s not fucking hungry. Not for food, anyway.

“I got your kikufuku,” you tack on, and it should make him happy. But it doesn’t.

It makes him fucking hate himself.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and he can hear the tremor in your voice, or maybe you’re shivering. His selfish, self-loathing ass is making you stand in the pouring rain while you try and coax him out of his car.

Emotion is still foreign to him. Well, not entirely, but you'd come at a time he'd sworn attachment off, he'd meander the world surrounded by people but always alone. It was easier that way, he'd thought. He hadn’t wanted to allow this, but he’d never stood a chance. Not after you kissed him for the first time outside the ice cream place, or when you listened to him tell a story about curses and infinity that would have sent anyone with sense running for the hills and never looking back. And you’d shrugged. Shrugged.

“You’re still just Toru to me,” you’d said, and at that moment everything and nothing at all made sense.

And still to this day years later, as he steps out of the car and threads his fingers with yours, hunching down to squeeze beneath your clear umbrella, everything and nothing at all makes sense.

The house smells like curry, your music still playing in the kitchen, and the bag of the sweet treats you’d traveled to get just for him sat on the dining table with a new set of sunglasses. He’d broken his favorite ones before the trip, and as he stares at the oblong lenses and golden frames he realizes he'd never told you he’d sat on them, snapping them right in two. You must have just known when he’d opted to wear his older circular ones. Or maybe you found the broken pair in the pocket of his pants when you did the wash. Either way, the gesture makes him squeeze your hand a little tighter as his teeth gnash together. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Oh,” he finally grunts, pulling a small box from the top of his travel bag, “This is for you.”

He’d found it in one of the towns he’d been cursed to investigate, the tiny pendant you were admiring with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Do you like it?” He can see the answer plain as day on your face, but he still feels the need to ask. He needs the god damn reassurance, the ego stroke. He needs to know that he matters for more than the curses bestowed on him at birth.

“Can you put it on me?” you ask with a grin, turning after setting the box in his palm.

The clasp is too small for his fingers to work properly, but he gets it done, laying the pink-jeweled charm against your throat and securing it before watching the way it settles onto your chest from above. Your fingers toy with the gold, so dainty and gentle, you treat everything as if it were the most precious, fragile thing. Even him. His arms practically ache to wrap around your middle, his body freezing despite the comfortable temperature in the house because the only thing that could keep him warm enough was your body pressed against his, every conceivable inch of it.

But he needs a shower. And if he starts now he won’t stop. He intends to stay glued to you, serpentining around your limbs and torso like a parasitic vine, pulling the very will to live from the heat of your skin and the steady beat of your heart. He wonders if you know how much he depends on you.

The strongest in the world. Until he isn’t. Right now he feels like a chump.

It’s not because he lost, because he sure as hell didn’t. He made quick work of each and every foe, it was almost boring. He’d pay someone at this point if they sent something his way that made him break a sweat. No. It’s because he’s tired. He’s tired of being the strongest. He’s tired of trying to change things, to save people he’s still not sure he gives a shit about, and he’s buckling beneath the weight of a name and abilities he never asked for.

There’s no denying it’s fun to be the best. He gets away with more than he should, he toys with people’s minds and worth, destruction sits at his fingertips. But it’s lonely. It’s vapid. And being Satoru Gojo leaves him at the mercy of people he shouldn’t be forced to obey.

He’s never lived.

All he’s done is train, fight, bargain, argue, defend, lose everyone he’s ever allowed himself to care about. And that fear sits heavy in his gut as he watches you skitter off to the kitchen when a timer blares shrill in the air. He has to escape now because if he sees that silly smile that settles on your face when you look at him he’ll fall to his knees.

In the time he takes to debate if he can pull the roots that had grown from his feet up from the floor, you were back, and now the predator was turned prey.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again, reading everything from the shape of his mouth to the slump of his shoulders like a book you’d memorized. Answering is far down his list of desires.

“Nothing,” he lies, plastering a smile on his face, the mask he wore so well snapping back into place, “Hungry.” Another lie. “Tired.” That one was true.

“It’s funny that you think you can lie to me.”

It wasn’t venomous, your tone playful as you ascend onto the tips of your toes and reach behind his head, the cloth masking half of his face falling away. Through all the wondrous things his eyes have seen, you are his favorite thing to gaze upon. Despite your lack of cursed energy, there’s still an enchanting hue to you, he could pick it out of a crowd of thousands in an instant, but when the blindfold is pulled away and the sights of the world come crashing in from every angle, your face is like an oasis. Always so sweet, always so happy, so fucking pure his hands that have killed and killed and killed shouldn’t be allowed to fucking touch you.

“There he is,” you coo, your fingers brushing the hair falling into his eyes that see too much, “I just wanted to see you.”

You feel bad. You feel bad for wanting to see his face. What is he doing here? What is he doing to you?

“Glasses now, yeah?” A request he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

“Shower,” he replies, finally undoing the buttons of the high collar that suddenly feels suffocating, ripping open the top few buttons of the white shirt he wore beneath it, “Then whatever you want.”

A content little hum agrees to his offer, “Dinner is done in ten.”

“Then I’ll be done in five.”

Yet fifteen minutes later he’s still crouching beneath the steady stream of now-tepid water, the veins in his temples pulsing, pain shooting from behind his eyes to the tips of his fingers and toes. He doesn’t want to move, think, nothing, he just wants to curl up in a ball and sleep.

“Toru?”

Before you, had anyone even attempted to call him by that wretched nickname they’d have found themselves beneath the sole of his boot. And they had tried. Shoko and Mei Mei had both tested the waters, Suguru had been smart enough to read Satoru’s reaction to the first two. At first, he thought he'd allowed it because it started as a choked whine, his cock buried in you to the hilt when you sputtered it from swollen lips, in that moment he didn’t care what you called him, nor had he any other time after that. Then it just stuck.

Or maybe it was because he’d never been the Satoru Gojo with you. He had always been something else. Someone else. You didn’t care how many curses he could exorcise, to you he was the guy who delivered extra sweet boba tea and preferred sodas to sake. While others expected him to risk his life while they sat comfortable behind screens demanding too much from people who were running out of things to give, you just wanted flowers and nights in on the couch where he’d carry you to bed after you fell asleep watching a movie. He wasn’t Satoru Gojo, the prodigy. He was…Toru.

When the door creaks open as a result of his silence, he wonders how much you know, what you assume. There’s no point in trying to maintain the ruse that he’s fine, the opportunity for that had passed before he’d even stepped foot in the house.

“Stop avoiding me.” Well, that answers that. You were exceptionally well aware. “Your trip was shit. I got it. But you’ll be on another one in two days and I’ll—“

You know you’re guilting him, and you stop. It doesn’t matter, it already worked. You’d be alone again. And he was wasting this time moping over things he couldn’t change. Not yet. Not quickly enough.

With a towel in your lap you’re perched up on the bathroom counter, a scowl he could easily wipe away with a kiss set on your face. The residual steam floats around you in thick clouds, you’re ethereal, practically glowing, and long strides close the distance before he’s cupping your jaw with palms that swallow you whole and kissing you harder than he intended to.

It’s like the first breath of air after being trapped underwater. The sun of a warm spring day after a cold winter. The first scent of cherry blossoms and the briny breeze of the ocean. You breathe new life into him so effortlessly. He’d considered the day when you’d wisen up and kick him to the curb, taking solace in the fact that as long as he knew you were still alive, it would be enough. His sanity hinges on your existence and nothing else, because once you were gone there would be nothing left keeping him from losing his mind. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

Uncaring of your long sleeves and his soaked body, you press in closer, tangling fingers into his sopping hair as his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips. It’s been weeks. Painful, lonely, tiresome weeks since he’s felt you, tasted you, smelled you. He’d suppressed his longing, but it’s pouring out now like a river battering through a dam, there was no stopping it until the pressure is released. Lifting you requires little to no strength, and if he’s going to have you, it’s going to be in bed where we can do it properly in the way you deserve. He can have control over this, excel even, if he wasn’t getting back into the shower before the clock struck midnight he would consider it a failure. A man needs goals.

Silver lace was covering your curves beneath your sweater and pants, a sly smirk on your face as you watch his reaction to the real reason you’d gone to Sendai. It’s sheer, his mouth watering at the way your nipples pebble beneath the fabric, the battle between whether to marvel at the sight before him or begin his evening’s activities waging while your nails rake over his forearms extending on either side of you. He’s nestled between your thighs, the damp spot that’s already soaked through your panties pressing against his inner thigh, and all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress until you can’t form a coherent thought. He's forgotten about his headache when he pulls your bra down to bunch beneath your breasts, greedily pulling one of your hardened buds between his lips and whimpering at the taste of your skin on his tongue. You’re scratching his scalp soothingly to disguise the way you’re holding him on your tit, your thighs squeezing around him as he rolled and lapped at your sensitive peak all the evidence he needed to justify the fact he didn’t want to stop; you didn't want him to either. With some resistance, you allow him to switch sides, giving him the chance to lavish the other with as much attention, your back arching into him in relief when he latched.

For a man who walks amongst the clouds, he is still well aware this was as close to heaven that he’ll ever get. This was perhaps the only one that existed. It was definitely the only one he wants to ever see. The smell of your perfume still faintly clings to your skin and he chuckles remembering all the times he’d spritzed it on the bottom of his blindfold, your scent wafting through his nose all day as he’d tried to focus on teaching the students. And with that reminder he craves your lips again, meeting you in a kiss you take a moment to reciprocate, shaking off the haze he’d already put you in.

While your reflexes are still slow to keep up, he slips down the mattress and nestles between your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as he presses his nose to your core and inhales. It’s lewd and had you been anyone else he’d have refrained, but you push down onto his face, and he can taste the tease of what’s to come on the lace. He debates tearing them straight in half—he’ll replace them—but opts to slowly drag them up your legs, kissing along your inner thigh, knee, calf, and ankle on his way up, flicking the thin garment onto the floor behind him before reversing his path on your opposite leg and finding himself face to face with what he craved above all else.

Your slit is glistening, arousal dripping onto the satin sheets as you mewl in anticipation, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your palm as you try to hold back your eagerness for the first swipe of his tongue. He sears it into his memory, this scene of being so shamelessly desired for nothing more than how good he can make you feel. He’s a greedy man, and you’re a giving woman, nothing demonstrates that more than the way you’re willingly splayed for him to have his way with. He never leaves you dissatisfied, he’s too proud for that, but he takes what he wants.

“I’ve had to only dream about this,” his voice is low and menacing, “for too long.”

“You’re being awfully slow to enjoy it then.”

The taunt strikes a chord.

“Did you think about me while I was away?” He can tease, too. “Fingering this tight little cunt wishing it was me instead?”

“Yes…”

“Hmm. And no videos. That’s awfully selfish of you.”

His thumbs graze over your skin in every place except where he knows you want him. He wants you writhing, so desperate for his touch you’ll unconsciously seek it out all for him to deny you until you’re ready to snap.

“My fist gets the job done,” he continues, grazing his teeth over the curve of your ass, “If I imagine you on your knees in front of me.” He kisses your mound, hooking his tongue into the top of your slit and flicking. “Mouth open. Tongue out.” He gets closer to where you need him this time, but still leaves you waiting and wanting. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Anything.” You’re fucking wrecked and he’s barely done a thing.

“Anything? Anything? You should know by now that’s a dangerous word.”

Clearly, it’s a risk you’re willing to take because you don’t have a rebuttal. So the choice is up to him. He’s so pent up he considers if he commits to opting for dessert before dinner, the main course might be ruined. But that wasn’t always a bad thing. It was however not ideal if it ruins his appetite entirely, and he had no intention of cutting this evening short.

“I need to fuck you,” he decides, “Damnit.”

He doesn’t love the decision, but he hates the thought of coming on the sheet while he takes his fill of the feast between your legs. That would impact his focus, and little else deserved his undivided attention. You’re unbothered by his choice entirely, in fact you’re eager, your fists tangled in his hair as you pull him back to your mouth and grab his throbbing cock from where it sits heavy on your stomach.

“I want videos too, you know,” you sigh, nipping at his bottom lip and dragging it between your teeth, “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re so wet he finds no resistance when he fills you in one hard thrust, the air being pushed from your lungs hot on his throat, "Careful what you wish for."

Memory never did the way your velvet walls swaddle him any justice. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him, your nails piercing half-moons into his porcelain skin while he made no attempt at rhythm or tact. He needs to be buried in you—the only refuge he’s ever found—but he needs the friction, the result making his movements frantic and desperate. It’s too hard, too fast, your whines choked by the punctuated slamming of his hips into yours, all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.

You let him fuck you like this because you know he needs it. There’s a piece of himself he leaves with you for safekeeping every time he walks out the door that he reclaims here in the symphony of your breathy moans between sweat-soaked sheets. He tries to kiss you, but you’re both too overcome to focus, lips just grazing and dragging with each jolt of your body upward. His eyes are wide when he clamps a hand down over your throat, the lack of oxygen sending a rush to your core as he squeezes just enough to make breathing hard. You don’t need oxygen right now, all you require is him.

“You’re a mess,” he compliments into your agape mouth, swallowing down your little sounds as he batters into you harder still, “I’m gonna slip right out.”

“N-no,” you protest, your thighs squeezing around him tighter.

It makes him laugh. “Always so needy,” he touts, pulling all the way out and staring at your gaping hole until your hand grips his length soaked in your juices once again in an attempt to guide him back. “Tsk tsk, behave yourself. Have some control.”

The frustrated groan that rips from your chest sends a shockwave coursing through him. Your eyes are pinched shut so tightly your brow is creasing in the center, your wrist so dainty in his massive grip. He pulls your fingers to his mouth, licking the taste of you clean before placing your spit-soaked fingers over your clit and sitting upright. Without him needing to voice his desire, you begin circling your swollen bundle of nerves, your aggravated tension melting away at your own blissful touch, and when you’ve finally forgotten your annoyance at him, he claims you once again.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of your calf, he ruts into you ruthlessly with his newly established leverage, his eyes locked on the way you drift your touch down every so often to feel where your bodies meet.

“I missed you,” he whines against your ankle, pressing his lips to the bone as he throws it over his shoulder, looping his arms around your thighs and picking up his pace, “Missed your fucking pussy.”

He’s well aware you’re past the point of coherent responses, but he likes the pathetic way you try to form a sentence. It’s all gibberish, even if you could think straight the force he’s thrusting his cock into the deepest parts of you cuts you off, your entire body shuddering, and he can’t help but marvel at the way your breasts shake or how your free hand seeks him out for something to grip on to.

“You need to come,” he commands, feeling the coil in his stomach ready to snap, “Lemme feel you, baby.”

It’s immediate. Your orgasm wracks over your body, every muscle going rigid and then shattering like glass, leaving you boneless and spent beneath him. His crescendo begins as yours subsides, but he feels no relief as he spurts hot and thick into your fluttering channel. He still aches, his cock is still rock hard, so he continues as if he’d never stopped. Your cunt squelches loudly as he fucks through your combined releases, and it feels so fucking good he knows he won’t last much longer in this unexpected second wind.

“Can you take it?” he asks, and it’s not so much his filthy mouth as it is a check in, you’re still silent as he seeks relief once again.

“Y-yes,” you sputter, and deep down he knows you’re too sensitive, too swollen.

“Good girl. Move your hand.”

With caution he presses his thumb to your undoubtedly overstimulated bud, your body jumping at the contact but immediately relaxing as he rubs slow circles. Your cunt is sopping wet, your thighs and his soaked with fluids, and the stench of sex is so heavy in the room he swears it’ll linger for days. Your body is glowing in the moonlight trickling in, a thin shin of sweat making you almost iridescent, and he can’t believe you’re his. He’ll get to sleep in this bed with you tonight, a privilege only awarded to him.

“Toru, please!” you beg, and he realizes he’s so caught up comparing you to the memory he has stored away that you’re painfully close to release once again.

“Gonna come again for me?” he purrs, and when your hole constricts he collapses down, shoving his tongue in your mouth as he joins you in the steep ascent to bliss. He moans into your open mouth as fire blazes in his belly, your chin and jaw firmly in his grip as he stares into the eyes he dreams up before he falls asleep every night before collapsing onto your damp chest.

What he thinks is the calm after the storm turns out to only be its eye, the latter half much less enjoyable than the first. Pain sears across his head, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with a newfound rage, and he whimpers in agony. He’s found some sort of safe haven in the curve of your neck, and that will have to do.

Even though he protests with all the energy he has left, you flip him onto his back, the loss of your arms a heavy burden as you leave him on the bed alone. He wants to scream your name, he wants to yell, to be angry at you for abandoning him in this state, but he doesn’t have it in him. He hears a closet door, the faucet, clinking of glass, the scratching of fabric, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. Not right now.

The dip of the mattress signifies your return after what felt like an eternity, a hot towel wiping from his thighs to his stomach, the familiar scent of the laundry soap hitting his nose. You’d gotten dressed into something, and he reaches up to where you’re perched in the spot his pillow usually sits and recognizes the fabric of one of his t-shirts; if you have to wear clothes at least they’re his.

Gently, you lift the dead weight of his head and place it in your lap, the soft heat of your bare thighs easing the tightness in his neck as a cool cloth is pressed to his aching eyes.

The air is kissed with the smell of orange blossoms, and he sighs in relief when you begin to massage his temples, the oil on your fingers helping them glide across his skin. You work beneath the cold fabric shrouding him from the overwhelming world, running along his brow and cheeks, stopping to release the tension in his jaw he doesn’t realize he’s holding. Traveling over his ears you move to his neck, kneading at the base of his skull where the muscles are so tight they’re hard as stone, your movements so methodical from years of practice.

“You need to sleep,” you demand in a soft, hushed tone, “you’re too tired.”

Well, he hasn’t slept in days. He’d been too busy, it had been too risky, and an empty bed wasn’t conducive to pleasant dreams. There had been enough nightmares watching you be devoured by curses as he stood idly by unable to help, he likes to avoid them by any means necessary now. So, he nods. Sleep does sound nice.

“I’m staying home tomorrow,” he decides, “Turn my phone off.”

Your hum in response has the hint of a giggle, your nails now scratching against his scalp and through his snowy strands. The deafening roar of pain has subsided to an annoying buzz, and the more you work your hands over his head the quieter it becomes. You’re waiting for him to tell you he’s comfortable enough to fall asleep, and although he is, he’s enjoying this too much. A tender touch feels so good after weeks of combat and surging adrenaline, he can’t be blamed for wanting to bask in it for a few moments longer than needed.

“I’m gonna owe you for this, aren’t I?” he finally jokes, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them to his lips where he pecks across your knuckles.

“Oh yeah,” you confirm, tipping his chin up to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, “Big time.”

After a quick sweep of the house, including both turning off his phone and hiding it in a kitchen drawer, and a change of the sheets much to Satoru’s dismay over having to move, you slip back into bed. Immediately, his arms circle you, and although you're facing away from him comfortably nestled on your side, he buries his face into your spine, falling asleep almost immediately as your heat washes over him like a security blanket.

He dreams of home. Of you. A flower behind your ear and a smile lighting up your face. He has the courage to say he loves you here, something he has yet to utter in waking hours. It’s been too long to matter now, you read it in his actions and his intent, but one day he hopes to not fear the consequences of saying the words aloud. Because he does love you, more than anyone, anything. More than himself. And one day he’ll admit it.

One day.

***Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated***

[bbybaku]

hii! could we get some dabi/touya college boyfriend nsfw and sfw headcanons? thank uu

yall are gonna have to hear me the fuck out on this one okay

the 18+ part is below the cut 🫡

also sorry this took me like 9 months to write lmao

sfw

i think you and touya would be in the same big friend group that likes to drink and party together

okay so touya started off in the dorms of your big ass university as an engineering major and very quickly realized he didn't really fw it

butttttt he did fw the night scene

and his rich father paying him to be there

so touya barely passes freshman year

transfers to the community college down the road

moves into a party house w his boyz

i feel like he would either be like a blue-collar construction worker or a bar back until he's 21 when he can be a bartender

he's kind of a dick but he's also friends w everyone?

he likes fat girls

especially bipoc thic girls

like homeboy likes tits and ass and is not picky

i feel like he's a bit of a dick in an endearing way

like he's a college aged man and he's a lil selfish but you know he doesn't mean it

prob not the best bf all the time

he means well

hes a retired player who met you and is now obsessed with you and only you

yall are also lowkey on and off

but you’re working on it!!

that being said I'm sure he would be nice to you and care about you but he def has issues that he is not addressing

back to our party boy

he would order pizza for the after-party

always hosts the pregame

and the party lol

goes to the clubs !!

occasionally gets drunk and gets in fights (its hot af)

he would be generous w the ~party favors~ if you know what i mean

*wipes nose*

*cough cough*

has probably tried every drug under the sun at least once

so maybe not the best memory lol

like not a bad guy

but probably not the best

always has cigarettes

probably a Marlboro guy

or American spirits

always wearing all-black or all-dark colors

always smells really good

his room is actually really nice like he has a big bed and mood lights and some crystals

goes to the gym often but has a sleeper build

so looks scrawny but has some muscle when he takes his shirt off

prob has a stupid tattoo somewhere

like a cool one on his lower stomach

but also has a tramp stamp of a heart with wings

always has like an ocean sented canlde burning in his bedroom

has the most beautiful fluffy hair that he puts such little effort into

almost always has a 5 o'clock shadow

like does not shave his face consistently enough but he is hot so its okay

he likes to sit with his head between your legs

yall watch movies together often

like actually watch movies

he has a silver nose ring

drives like a red mustang

is prob lowkey a car guy

is not on any social media but is always watching weird youtube videos and texting his siblings

i feel like it’s a fantasy of his to get into a fight for you

like he dreams of some guy trying shit with you only for him to step in at the perfect time and beat the shit out of him

he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you

but he would beat anyone who hurts you

nsfw

average size but a bit girthy

homeboy can fuck

like is experienced

he’s a retired whore

you are the reason he retired lol

can find the clit on anyone

you don't go home until you come at least once

quickies

all the time

anywhere you can think of

bathroom at parties

unfinished basements

empty classroom

storage closet

prob has a hand signal to you for if yall are out drinking in your group and he wants to fuck

this man oozes sex appeal

like you're not in the mood and then he's wearing all black and smells like that and suddenly you're ferral

real good at dirty talk

"behave"

"that's what I like to hear"

"have you always been this much of a slut?"

just to name a few

talks like that in and out of the bedroom

does not sext but will not hesitate to invite you over when he's horny

fucking in his room during a party

and then returning to the party

will buy you food after

fucks you to hip-hop

like good music

Red LED lights in his room

has a big ass mirror

doggy or pro bono in front of said mirror

*chefs kiss*

does not want kids so he always has a ton of condoms

he doesn't like hickies but loves when you scratch up his back

car sex

he likes to choke you

especially during makeouts

like will choke you more during a makeout than he will during sex

prob lowkey has a porn addiction so can get a little carried away sometimes

but will instantly stop if you say something or if he picks up on you like liking the vibe

he's loud as fuck during sex

like his roommates will pound on the walls

doesn't eat you out super often,, but when he does?

good god

amazing

prob will ask you to do some weird shit every now and then

like clown makeup

or to top him and call him weird names

you're normally down for it

its fun because he gets so into it

is pretty straightforward about what he wants

which is nice since you never have to guess

m.list

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART FIVE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

You’d been banished to your dorm since returning from the mission.

A week of being practically locked in there since being released from the hospital wing, the stitches from the bullet graze in your thigh long disintegrated. All that remained now was a sore, red, angry scar.

Your first one.

You caught yourself laughing as you looked at it; Ghost would be so proud of your first battle scar.

Thankfully, the rescued women were as healthy and safe as they could possibly be and were already being placed in safe houses or returned to their loved ones.

But you…you’d already been on the receiving end of a mouthful from Price, Ghost, and Fender for not following orders and almost getting yourself killed.

It was frustrating that they couldn’t see why you did what you did.

Even more so that after saving his life, König still wasn’t giving you the time of day. Little did you know, it wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was mad at himself.

He always hated how people wouldn’t give him a chance to explain himself, and that’s exactly what he did to you that night at the range. You tried, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pushed you away, and you still jumped in front of a bullet for him. You still threw yourself between a deadly weapon and an innocent young girl.

You were the selfless among the selfish.

And when he saw the way you fell, blood pouring from your thigh, he almost threw up.

He thought you were dead…he thought he’d lost you. And it was all his fault. Too occupied in trying to get the job done.

He had to see you.

Once again, you found yourself on the end of a video call, but this time, the entirety of the 141 and Laswell was present, making sure you were okay.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, pet, you know that?”

“What, like you’ve never thrown yourself at a crazy man with a gun? You can’t fool me, MacTavish.”

“Uh- no, that is- that’s irrelevant!”

“She’s got ya there, Johnny.”

“Yeah, Johnny, listen to your man.” You teased.

“Watch it, little one.” Ghost threatened, and you held up your hands in surrender. “Seriously though, ya did good. Just come ‘ome safe, yeah?”

“I will. Night guys, I love you.”

They copied your words, Gaz blowing you few kisses as their laptop closed, and the call ended.

Huffing, you began getting ready for bed, slipping into your fluffy pyjama shorts and the matching top.

Then, you let out a scream as your door flung open, and a mammoth of a man adorned in a black shirt and black sweatpants barged in, slamming the door behind him.

“Kӧnig what the fuck?! You scared the absolute shit out of me! You didn’t even knock! I could’ve been-”

“Bitte, I’m sorry.” He cut you off, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

Your hand rested over your chest, trying to calm your heart, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t speak right away, his lacking social skills surfacing as he faltered under your gaze. Your brow was raised, awaiting his answer. His eyes raked over your body, and he found himself blushing as he took in the way your little shorts hugged your thighs so lusciously, your little top showing off your midriff.

Du sahst so wunderschön aus. (You looked so gorgeous.)

“Kӧnig,” you spoke again, “What are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat, stepping into the room a little more, “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, and his gaze landed onto the scar on your thigh. His chest tightened at the sight of the evidence – the reminder that you almost weren’t here.

Because of him.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke, nodding towards your leg.

“What? Save your life?”

“Ja.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Nein. You shouldn’t try and sacrifice yourself for someone like me.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, “You know, this is a really fucked up way of thanking me, König.”

“Why didn’t you just let me die?”

Tears clouded your vision, “What?”

“I’d rather it have been me than you.” His voice started to raise.

“That’s not- you don’t leave your teammate to die! I acted in the moment; I did what was right!”

“You acted like a dummkopf! (idiot)” he shouted.

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you jump in front of a bullet for me?! You could have died! That was so stupid and so fucking-”

“Because I’m falling in love with you!” you yelled back, hand running through your hair as you panted.

Something snapped within him.

Something changed.

Your words ignited a fire within him, blazing furiously, burning the blood in his veins until it bubbled, his skin tingling.

You noticed too, as those gorgeous blue eyes darkened under the sniper hood, backing up until the back of your knees hit your bed as he stalked towards you.

The moment he reached you, he yanked the hood from his head, revealing his face.

That’s what he had hiding under there?

Beautiful auburn hair, wild and messy from his hood. Pale, freckled skin, adorned with multiple silvered scars. One in particular ran from his chin, through his plump lips, up to his cheek bone. You wanted to reach out and touch it, feel him under your fingertips.

Your entire body was shaking.

His tongue ran over his lips, making them shine in the dim light coming from your tiny lamp. He watched you as your eyes flicked over his face, mouth opening slightly as you marvelled at the sight.

Despite his blushing, he smirked, and it made your eyes widen.

“What was that you just said, liebling? (darling)”

He towered over you, hands moving to rest against your hips, dragging your body flush against his.

You looked everywhere but at him.

“Kӧnig-” you stuttered out.

He lowered you down onto the mattress, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head while the other gripped your chin softly, forcing you to look at him.

“What’s a matter, mein schatz? (my love) Don’t be shy.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Considering his size, he was being so soft, so gentle, and it was turning your brain to mush.

His thumb rubbed over your lips, pulling them apart slightly as his other hand kept your arms firmly above your head.

Your breathing was heavy, and the heat growing in the pit of your stomach was getting more and more prominent.

“Ich will dich…so sehr. (I want you…so much)” He whispered, his hands shaking slightly.

His forehead pressed to yours as he released your arms, and you wasted no time in placing your hands on his body. Your fingers grazed his cheek, running over the scar as you took his face into your hands.

“Ich will dich auch. (I want you too)” You whispered back, eyes burning into his.

He let out a noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan, before the grip on your chin tightened, and he smashed his lips to yours.

You kissed him back with the same need, the same desperation, his own whimpers matching yours as they escaped through his nose.

The feeling of his lips on yours was divine…ethereal.

This shy, socially anxious, mammoth of a man had taken full control of the situation, shifting you up the bed and wrapping your legs around his waist. You gasped at the movement, and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth.

A deep, animal-like growl bubbled from his chest, spilling over into your mouth as he dove deeper, desperate to chase the taste of you. Your hips bucked; your body not willing to wait any longer for the heat in your groin to be satisfied.

“Eager, mein liebe?” he chuckled, before ducking his face into your neck, nipping, sucking, biting.

He was marking you.

Making sure every man knew who you truly belonged to.

“Kӧnig, please-” you whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, tugging softly.

He groaned at the sensation, head dropping into your nape as his eyes rolled. His fingers dug into your skin as they roamed your body, no doubt leaving small bruises. He was holding back, and you knew it.

“Please,” you moaned, “Please, Kӧnig…berühre mich. (touch me)”

“God, baby-” he grunted, “You have no idea what you do to me, speak my language so pretty, so well.”

He smashed his lips to yours, only parting to pull your shirt over your head, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. But you didn’t care, you were burning hot, just for him. You followed his actions, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

Timidly, he pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor. Your eyes widened as you took in his physique. Christ, it was like this man had been sculpted by the Gods personally. Your fingers delicately traced along his abs, bumping over raised scars, making him shiver.

They dipped lower, grazing over the unmissable bulge fighting to be freed from the confines of his sweatpants.

Everything about him was big.

He sucked in a breath, letting out a shaky moan as you stroked him until he snapped, pinning your wrists back above your head.

“You know how much I wanted this? How many times I wanted to have you right there? Those lessons were the highlight of my weeks, sweetheart.” He purred, hands roaming your bare flesh.

“Y-you should h-have, would’ve l-let you.” You stuttered out, breath choppy as he took your breast, his fingertips squeezing the nipple harshly.

He smiled shyly, eyes meeting yours, “You’re a good girl, ja?”

You nodded, words failing you as praise rolled off his tongue, letting out noises that sounded almost angelic to him.

Kӧnig then shifted, tugging your little shorts from your body, his giant hand running slowly up your leg. He dipped down, placing a delicate kiss to your scar. His hands then continued their journey until they reached your cunt, a long finger slipping slowly between your slick-covered folds.

“I would die for you.” He whispered, “Would you let me die for you, hübsches mädchen? (pretty girl) Protect your body with my own? Let me worship you?”

You were babbling incoherent nonsense at this point, the sensation of him touching you completely overwhelming, “God, yes…Kӧnig please, please touch- oh, f-fuck-”

“You’re so good, (Y/N), so good.” He spoke as he slipped a finger inside of you, curling to reach that spot with every thrust.

You bit your lip hard to keep from screaming, the metal taste of blood flooding your mouth, allowing the sounds to slip.

“You sound so beautiful, angel.” He cooed, continuing to finger you at a blistering pace.

He was relentless, desperate to make you cum before he got his cock anywhere near you, desperate to make you feel good – make up for what a mess he’d made of everything.

Your moans and whimpers spurred him on, showing him that he was doing the right thing.

The way your nails dug into his back as you clung to him almost made him finish right there in his pants.

You were magnificent.

Especially when your back arched, your breasts bouncing right in front of his face as his name slipped out of your mouth like some foul chant, ramming you into ecstasy.

Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig…

The way his name rolled off your tongue unlocked something deep within him.

He pulled his fingers from you, lapping up every drop of your release, before slamming his lips to yours, making you taste yourself. Hoisting you up, he locked your legs over his hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Bitte, can I?” he whimpered as his tip rubbed between your folds, “Please, Schatz, let me-”

Tears sprung in his eyes, his desperation to feel you becoming too much.

“Fuck me, Kӧnig. Don’t hold back.”

He let out a sob of relief, before he slid his cock into you, inch by glorious inch. He was huge, the biggest you’d ever been with, and he filled you up as if your pussy was made just for him. The minute he bottomed out, he let out a cry, one hand fisting handfuls of your hair as the other gripped the bedsheet in a hopeless effort to control himself.

Then, with a rhythm that sent white hot pleasure coursing through you, he rocked his hips, snapping against yours with every thrust. Your hands clawed and grabbed at his flesh as you mewled out a mess of words, barely able to string a sentence together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he repeated, his pace quickening.

You whined, tears from the pain of him stretching you falling from your eyes, “Feels so good-”

“Oh, don’t cry, liebling.” He spoke, thumb padding your wet cheeks, “It’s okay, you’re doing so well, taking me so well…such a good girl…”

Grunts fell from his lips as he couldn’t control himself any longer, his pace speeding up as he chased his release. The pressure built for you again, and he could feel the walls of your cunt squeeze, making him whimper.

“That’s it, schnuckie, cum for me- please, scheiße (fuck) cum for me.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement, and with a scream of his name, your body arched, your climax completely obscuring your vision to the point you saw stars.

With a few more agonisingly rough snaps with his hips, profanities falling from his mouth, Kӧnig erupted inside of you, his cock pulsing over and over as his seed spilled out, white and dripping.

His arms gave out, heavy breaths from both of you as his body lay on yours.

Your fingers ran through his dampened hair as you clung to him, his arms locking you in place beneath him.

He lifted his head, rubbing his nose on your temple as he placed a chaste kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose.

“Meine schöne, kleine prinzessin...(my beautiful, tiny princess)” he mumbled before he finally pressed his lips to yours.

It took a good twenty minutes for the two of you to calm down, the thin layer of sweat sticking your skin together, not allowing you to part. Finally, your breathing had returned to a somewhat normal level, as good as can be as Kӧnig peppered tiny kisses along your shoulder.

You blushed furiously, trying to hide away from his gaze.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispered as he held you to his chest, arms tight around your waist, “Not around me. Du bist zu schön, um schüchtern zu sein. (you’re too beautiful to be shy)”

You sighed softly, turning in his arms to face him, your hands dancing along his scar, “Also bist du. (so are you)”

Kӧnig groaned as his eyes fell shut, trying to conceal it, but your constant reassurances and praise of him made his heart wild - it made that primal, instinctive urge within him burst out like a feral beast.

It made him want you, need you in every way possible.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

König marvelled as the truck pulled up on base.

It was so different to KorTac, so much smaller and less grand, hidden, and private, but it was home to you.

Finally, you were home.

You hadn’t even gotten out of the truck before you heard Soap’s yelling as he came bounding across the tarmac toward you.

Jumping out, you yelled something to him, making him freeze in place as the others caught up. They watched on, confused, but desperate to hold you in their arms again now that you were home.

You moved around to the other side of the truck, opening the door to see König looking at you, his leg bouncing nervously as his thumbs twiddled in his lap.

“You ready, big guy?” you smiled to him, taking his hand.

“As long as I have you next to me, I’m ready for anything, schnucki.”

You blushed furiously at the nickname, and he leaned forward, lifting his sniper hood just enough to reveal his lips, placing them on yours for a soft kiss.

Giggling as you pulled away, you dragged him from the vehicle, pulling him around to where the boys of the 141 saw him for the first time.

Just imagine their faces as you came from the side of the vehicle, an absolute behemoth of a man attached to your side.

Imagine the way Soap faltered as you reached them, König’s giant shoulders casting one huge shadow over them all.

Imagine Price’s initial horror as he clocked onto your fingers being woven tightly with those of the crazy, mammoth killer.

Imagine the way Ghost puffed out his chest to make himself look bigger as he squared up to König, having also noticed the way the big man kept you close;

“Now, you may be bigger-”

“A lot bigger!”Soap had yelled from somewhere.

“Yes- thank you, Johnny. A lot bigger, but make no mistake, soldier. You hurt my (Y/N); I’ll make sure no one even remembers you existed. Capeesh?”

“Y-yes, sir.” König had stuttered out, shaking in his boots.

Then there was you, fingers pressed to your nose as you looked to the floor, “Jesus fuck, Simon, leave him alone!”

Imagine König coming to your room after his first day with the 141, exhausted from the training he’d endured.

“I like them…like it here.” He’d speak, fingers running through your hair as you laid on his chest.

“They spent all day trying to kick the shit out of you.”

They had tried, each and every one of them completely underestimating the sheer strength that Kӧnig possessed. He was a super soldier, a battering ram. A fucking force.

He’d laugh, dropping his head to kiss your lips, “Ja. But only because they love you, schatz. They protect you…and so will I.”

“Yeah?”

“Bis zum ende der zeile. (until the end of the line)”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Breaking Dishes. - OC

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 2.7K~ cw: smut, arguments, violence, fighting/roughousing, breaking dishes, insults, toxic relationship.

It’s 8:12 A.M. when Kathleen finds herself sliding off bed and wrapping herself in a flowery black and pink silk robe. John’s side of the bed is cold, a sign he’s gotten up long ago.

She pads over to their en-suite bathroom and quickly washes her face, brushes her teeth and her hair, before she leaves the bedroom in search of her husband.

As she enters the kitchen, she finds her temper already rising, her jaw clenching as she looks around, finding multiple reasons to get angry already, so early in the morning, so early in a weekend morning.

First, she finds that he’s made breakfast already. Not for them, just for himself. Nothing for her. Selfish bastard.

Second, he made himself a full English too. Having left the rest of the eggs and sausages out of the fridge. The milk too even though he KNOWS she hates when he does that.

Third, he’s left a mess of pans and utensils on the kitchen stove… Which means she can’t even cook herself breakfast if she wanted to.

Fourth, the water kettle is not full enough for her to make herself a cuppa. In fact, the water in it is already lukewarm, even if there was enough to make herself one, she still couldn’t.

And fifth, John is sitting outside in the balcony, getting some sun, while only wearing a pair of jeans, showing off his strong torso and bulging arms to the whole neighborhood. Like a bloody tart.

Oh… Kathleen. is. pissed.

“JONATHAN. WILLIAM. PRICE!” She calls out at the top of her lungs as she whips the sliding glass door open and coming face to face with the man of the hour.

“Morning, Kat.” John greets her, completely calm and collected as he looks up at her, leaning his elbow lazily on the table next to him, which holds his empty breakfast plate and cutlery. 

He’s lounging without a care in the world, a grey wool sweater across his lap, and a mug of tea in his hand.

“Morning my arse! Did’ya see the mess you left in the kitchen?!” She asks him pointedly, brown eyes wide as she glares pure daggers at him.

Unfortunately for her, her raising her voice and her stern glares do little to him now, four years into their relationship, one into their marriage. He’s gotten used to them.

“Calm your tits, woman, I’m going to clean it after I’m done here.” He replies nonchalantly as he gestures vaguely. “Can’t I have a moment’s peace?”

“Oh, you want a moment’s peace, do ya?” She asks him as she crosses her arms over her chest, dipping her head to the side. “When do I get a moment’s peace, hm? When do I get a bloody weekend when I wake up and there’s not a mess to clean or with my breakfast made for me?” She asks with a cocked brow.

John shifts around in “I let you sleep in. Didn’t make any noise. You chose to get up right now. Could've stayed asleep and you would've woken up to clean dishes.” He remaked with a shrug.

“Ex-cuse me?” Kathleen asked pointedly as she stared at him. 

“You heard me. You’re getting an attitude for no reason, da’ling.” John remarked as he finished gulping down his tea.

Kathleen wanted to yell at him some more. She really wanted to. The man drove her insane, especially when he was like this… Correct.

“Don’t you gaslight me, Jonathan. I have a right to want to wake up to a clean house and some food made for me!” She retorted, grasping at straws for something to justify her anger.

“And this is after you complained I never make breakfast the way you like it?” He retorted as he looked her up and down before standing up, gathering his plate, cutlery and empty cup of tea.

“You-!” She sputtered a bit as she looked up at her husband, who gently moved her aside so he could slip past her back inside the house. “I- You-!” She continued as she followed after him.

”Face it, Kat, you have no leg to stand on, da’lin’.” John remarked as he entered the kitchen.

“Don’t you bloody walk away from me!” She raised her voice and suddenly shoved him from behind. It caused his empty cup of tea to roll of its perch atop the dirty plate he was carrying and shatter into a million pieces on the hardwood floor. 

John stopped in his tracks as soon as the cup fell, so as to not step on the shards and turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Was that fuckin’ necessary, da’lin’?”

“Yes.” Kathleen replied with a bite to her tone as she stared up into his eyes, holding her ground even as he turned and stood over her.

“Really? What’d I do to deserve that push, hm?” He asked her as he dipped his head to the side, blue eyes trailing over the form of his wife beneath him, wrapped in a silken robe that wrapped beautifully around her full figure.

Meanwhile, Kathleen’s brown eyes were glued to her husband’s figure too, trailing over the strong neck, broad shoulders, muscular pecs, soft stomach, and the abundant hair that covered it. 

“You- You were sitting outside like a bloody tart, showin’ off for the bloody neighbors!” She suddenly said as her eyes shot up to look at him, having found something to grasp on to yell at him some more.

John’s eyebrows raised, his lips morphed into a smirk and he gave her a mocking look, his nose scrunching up a bit. “Is that what this is, da’lin’? You’re jealous?” He asked her condescendingly.

“Oh piss off, John, I’m not jealous!” She retorted pointedly as she glared at him.

“Right…” John asked as he took a step over her. “Then why are you complaining about me being shirtless, then?” He teased her as one of his hands moved to grasp her around the chin, squeezing her face lightly.

“I-” Kathleen tried to defend herself, having already realized that today just wasn’t one of her days when it came to having a sharp tongue. So she did what she could, ever competitive she was, wasn’t going to take the disrespect lying down.

Grabbing his forearm, she ripped his hand off her face, then, took the plate off his other hand, and threw it across the living room blindly, hearing it shatter somewhere, probably against the bookshelf by the TV.

“Fuck. You. John Price. I’m sick and tired of your bloody attitude.” She pointed a finger in his face and then poked him on the chest. “You think you can walk around here as you wish, as if you’re in bloody charge? I think the fuck not!” She scolded him.

John didn’t even flinch at her poking him, or the plate being hurled across the room. He was used to this. Used to her. Hell, it turned him on when Kathleen was being a cunt to him.

John reached forward and grabbed her by her right forearm, pulling her against him. “Yeah? Then who’s in charge, da’lin’?” He challenged as he looked down his nose at her.

“It sure as hell isn’t you!” She retorted, her voice, much like her hackles, raised, even if she didn’t try, at all, to pull away from him. She wasn’t afraid of John. Never had been, never would be.

“Let’s see about that then.” John told her as he pulled her over to the living couch, spun her away from him and bent her over the armchair.

Kathleen squeaked softly, knowing well what was coming, as John pinned her wrists behind her back with one hand, the other rolling up her robe to expose her thighs and her ass.

“Who’s in charge, hm?” John goaded her before he whipped his hand back and delivered a hard smack to one of her round ass cheeks, causing it to ripple, a moan falling from her parted lips.

“Not. You.” She replied, huffing a moan again when he delivered a second smack to her ass. “Fuck. You. John.” She grunted through her teeth.

“What’d you say, da’lin’?” John asked as he leaned close to her ear. “Did you just tell me to go fuck myself?” He teased, watching as she fruitlessly writhed over the armrest, her head buried down in the couch cushion, her hands and arms struggling in his grip.

She rolled her head to the side so she could catch him through the corner of her eye. “Yes, I fucking did. And I’ll say it again. Fuck you, John.” She spat at him.

“Tsk-tsk. Brat.” John mused with a smirk on his lips. She could hear it. Then he smacked her again, and again, always making sure to strike the same spot, her skin already redening and blushing as the skin warmed up and the blood vessels popped below it.

John only gave her a break once the dulcets of her voice had softened and her moans had become whimpers, her arms and hands having gone limp in his grasp. “Who’s in charge, Kat?” He checked as he looked at her with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

Kathleen’s brown eyes caught his, her face just as red as her ass, her eyes widened, pupils blown from lust. “Fuck. You.” She gritted through her teeth.

“Oh, that wasn’t enough was it, sweet’art?” He goaded again. “Very well.” He added. John’s hand grabbed hold of the waist band of her panties and pulled them down swiftly, noting the wet spot she had already left in them. 

“Someone’s enjoying being spanked huh, you brat? Someone likes having an attitude adjustment…” He goaded as he let go of her panties, letting them fall around her ankles.

Before Kathleen could even retort properly, John’s rough and calloused fingers delivered a slap to her puffy cunt, causing her to squirm and squeal, her legs straightening up and trembling. 

“John!” She cried out as he continued repeatedly slapping her pussy, causing her to squirm and writhe against the hard material of the armrest below her. 

“That’s it, call my name, da’lin’.” He goaded as he kept repeatedly and continuously smacking her warm, wet folds. “Who’s in charge, here, huh?”

“F-Fuck… You!” She spat at him, as she finally freed her arms from John’s weakened grip. Then, she threw an elbow back, hitting her husband squarely in the nose.

“Ah, you cunt!” John complained as he suddenly stumbled back back, one hand shooting up to cup his now bleeding nose, while Kathleen suddenly rolled off her perch on the couch.

“No, you’re the cunt!” She retorted before suddenly lunging herself at him, throwing her whole weight on top of John, who, not expecting it, landed on the floor with a hard thud.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Kat!” John replied as he tried to get a grab at his wife, instead, only getting her trying to grip him by the arms and pin him to the floor.

She struggled with it, of course, she might have some military training, but not nearly enough to fight him, and definitely not enough strength to fight him.

His forearms bulged under her hands, the rough skin prickling with goosebumps, the adrenaline flowing through his veins, as well as hers, the both of them desperate to fight the other.

John bucked his hips and rolled them over before she could even attempt a proper pin down, landing her on the floor with a thud and a huff from her lungs.

He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, the other gripping her wrists together and pining her to the floor instead. 

Kathleen wrapped her legs around his hip and attempted to roll them over again, unsuccessfully, so, instead, she did the only thing she could do. She leaned up and spat in John’s face.

John’s eyes closed for a moment and his jaw clenched before they opened again, looking even more angry and… horny than before. “Is that how it’s going to be, Kathleen?” He asked her as he let go of her hair and used his hand to collect the spit off his skin. 

“Yeah, it is-” She barely had time to continue before he was plugging her mouth with his fingers, causing her to swallow them and her own saliva back up, pressing down on his tongue, preventing her from continuing her tirade.

“Keep your smart-ass gob shut, sweetheart, or you won't have a fuckin' jaw to move when I'm done wit ya.” He told her, eyes locked on hers. Kathleen looked up at him, eyes widened, pupils blown, before she wrapped her lips around his fingers, beginning to give him a suck.

“That’s it…” He told her. “You look so much better with your mouth shut…” He goaded her with a smirk on his lips. Kathleen’s eyes sparkled with mischief at his comment, a clear sign that she felt challenged by his condescending tone… So, she bit down onto his fingers as hard as he could.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Kat…” John hissed as he pushed his fingers deeper in her mouth like one would a dog, causing her to sputter and choke, and forcing her to let go of them, allowing him to pull them back out.

“C’mere.” He demanded and grabbed her jaw with tight fingers, forcing her mouth to open, before he swished his tongue inside his own mouth to collect some saliva, before spitting it into her mouth. “Swallow.” He demanded and, for once, she obeyed. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Kathleen then squeaked in surprise as he pulled open her robe, leaving it splayed open on the hardwood floor before he grabbed one of her legs, pushing it up against her chest while he sat over the other one.

“We need to adjust that fuckin’ attitude of yours. It’s way too bloody early for you to be fightin’ me, you hear?!” He taunted her as he undid the fly in his jeans and shimmied both his the trousers and boxer briefs down, allowing him to pull out his hardened cock.

“Fuck you, John.” She retorted as she squirmed a bit beneath him, trying to drag herself away with the help of her elbows.

“That’s what I’m about to do to you, sweetheart.” He taunted her before he quickly grabbed hold of her again, using one hand to push her down against the floor, one hand wrapped around her jaw and neck, while the other wrapped around his cock and used it to brush his leaky tip against her folds.

“John-” Kathleen grumbled as she wrapped her own hands around his hairy forearm, nails digging into his flexed muscle, dragging drown his skin.

“Sh-Shhh…”  He murmured before he drove his cock deep into her cunt, causing her to huff and moan, her head falling back as he plunged as far as he could.

“That’s my girl…” He teased her. He shifted around and lifted her other leg too, pushing it forward against her chest, allowing him to sink in deeper, before he started thrusting his hips down into her.

Her warm walls spread open to accommodate him, his cock making way inside fully with each snap of his hips. “That’s it… That’s what you needed, isn’t it?” He goaded her with a smirk. Unluckily for her, Kathleen could do little more than nod in agreement.

“Tell me you love me, da’lin’...” John cooed at his wife as he pounded deep into her, reaching that spot in her walls that only John had ever been able to reach.

“I love y-oooh…” Kathleen murmured, being cut off by a sudden shift in his demeanor, a more aggressive, ruthless rhythm coming into place, his hips snapping punishingly against hers, his cock bottoming out in her.

“That’s it, Kat, tell me you love me… Tell me you love me…” He repeated over and over. “Tell me you love me and my cock inside you, da’lin’... Tell me…”

“I love you, John…” Kathleen whined, her head rolling back on the hard floor, her arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh spot between his shoulder blades, her nails just barely grazing the tattoo on his nape.

“You’re such a fuckin’ cunt, Kat… Such a fuckin’ cunt… But I love you so much…” John murmured before he pressed his lips into hers in a sloppy, wet kiss.

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (XVI) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The soul-tracking ritual ensues, and Anders has a precarious idea.

Part XV / Part XVII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :). Sincerely hoping this chapter doesn't glitch again.

The excitement of performing the soul-tracking ritual wore off rather quickly when you realized that you had to draw out all of the runes since Anders was unable to crouch down. It was an extensive process and each character had to be extremely precise, causing your fingers to cramp up rather quickly. 

Your feet were feeling fuzzy as the circulation in your legs started to suffer from your position, your knees cracking noisily with every shuffle you took to continue mapping out the ritual circle. 

“I can’t feel my legs anymore.” You whined, upper body flopping down as you braced yourself with your palms. 

Anders grunts from in front of you, “You’re not even halfway there yet, and careful you almost smudged the Dagaz.” His drawl has you huffing, head instinctually snapping to the side to make sure you didn’t actually smear anything. 

“Easy for you to say, you’re sitting on a bloody stool while I’m hunched over, practically shining your boots!” Your exasperation was painted across your face, words spewing out in a mixture of annoyance and jest. 

The man rolls his eyes and rubs a hand over his knee, the joint no doubt aching, “Careful loyal vassal of mine, I am graciously offering you my help after all,” his tone of amusement melts away and he suddenly grows serious, “but it is imperative that we do this quickly.” 

You huff and adjust your position, swinging your head up to look at the man in curiosity, “Why’s that?” 

Anders’ face is darkened with a grim frown, and he peers down at the papers on his laps, “You said that those buddies of yours were going to kill Tom, right?” 

“Yes…” Your uncertain tone has you fidgeting with your wand habitually, eyes flickering between the window of the room and the man in front of you. 

“Well he’s puppeting the inferis with his magic, so they’ll undoubtedly be reduced to husks once he’s gone. So we need to hurry,” Anders elucidates, mouth set into a firm line as he delved deeper into his thoughts. 

Putting a hand up, you blink owlishly at the man, “This is too much information. So, not only are inferis still housing their original souls – but you’re saying that it's Voldemort’s magic that’s tying these souls down to the land of the living?” 

You didn’t know whether you wanted to curse the detestable man into oblivion or begrudgingly allow yourself to be grateful that his existence meant Regulus’ soul was still with you. 

Well, he was chaining down hundreds of souls for his own selfish desires – so you were leaning towards wanting to stick your hand through his head. 

“Only the inferis of his own creation, but yes, in theory.” The man looks mildly impressed at your quick thinking. 

“Would it be a bad idea to owl Harry and ask him to raincheck on his plans to eviscerate the Dark Lord?” You draw a hand to rub at your forehead, a newfound migraine blooming from the back of your neck and straining across your occiput. 

Anders gives you an unimpressed eyebrow raise before waving his hand towards the abandoned quarter-circle behind you, “A terrible idea. Now, let’s continue.” 

You finish drawing the ritual circle an hour after sunset. 

Your hand was shaking uncontrollably, jerking with every cramp that tugged at your muscles. You had begun sweating at one point, causing Anders to limp over and slide both of the windows open. The cool air bristled through the room and circled around all the loose papers, the sounds of rustling and quiet cruising from the older man flowing around the atmosphere. 

As you step back to survey your hard work, you can’t help the smile that plays at your lips: the intricacies of the circle was alluring, practically glowing under the yellow light fixtures above you. The wind began to whistle, and Anders took that as a cue to interrupt your little reprieve, “Looks decent enough.” 

“Decent? Have you gone senile since the last time we chatted? This bloody thing is the embodiment of perfection!” You cry out in incredulity, pondering all the ways you could attach the nifty piece of work to your academic portfolio.

Anders rolls his eyes and organizes his papers, “Yes, yes, you’re practically a Runes Master. Take a picture of it, why don’t ya?” 

Playfully narrowing your eyes at his back, you go to retort, but a knock at the door has you pausing just as you open your mouth. Sharing a look with Anders, you carefully move to investigate, only cracking the door open marginally in order to hide your work. 

It wouldn’t do you much good to have the neighbors thinking you were summoning something. 

“Luna?” Your squawk of surprise only causes the girl to smile, eyes darting over your head as her gaze seems to fade in and out of fixation. 

Bouncing on her heels, she reaches into her pocket, “So, you’re done?” 

“Yeah, I finished drawing up the circle. I think the old man wants to perform the actual ritual tonight though, so I won’t see you until tomorrow.” You exhale tiredly and murmur to yourself, “If I wake up, that is.” 

Luna nods quickly and pulls out a few items from her coat, “I see. Well, I’ve brought some things. I was told that you were in need of this as well by the Humdingers” In her outstretched hands, you see a couple of wrapped sandwiches and a small camera. 

“What?” You gape and slowly reach forwards, “Where did you get a camera from, little moon?” 

The girl smiles brightly and fiddles with her coat buttons, “I asked Asger.” You nod in appreciation and smile at the girl, waving with your full hands as she gracefully skips away towards the house. 

You retreat back into the room and brandish the camera at the expectant man with a victorious smirk, “I have great friends.” 

Anders grunts and reaches for one of the sandwiches, “That’s my camera, kid.” 

You examine the device with your oh so supple fingers, and ignore the urge to stick your tongue out at him, your sensibility winning out for once. As you both eat in silence, your eyes run over the respectable pile of papers in front of Anders, realizing that the man was absolutely serious about publishing your findings. 

“What have you got so far?” You nod towards his papers. 

His eyes quickly flicker beside him, “Magical essences and the imbuing work your boy did, and now I’m drafting up some pages about inferis and their souls.” 

You hum quietly and dust off your hands as you finish the last scraps of your food, feeling more vigilant as your aching stomach settles. The camera was smaller than the jarring flash bulb that Rita Skeeter always had around, and if anything, seemed way more practical. 

It was a bit blocky and had a round lens in the center with a small depression that you could only assume was for the flash. The bottom of the camera had a small rectangular slit — an output. 

“Polaroid 600. Film is as expensive as it gets, so don’t you go and waste it.” Anders’ quietly mumbles as he gets up from his spot, hands reaching for the camera. As he fiddles around with it for a few moments, the top suddenly seems to prop up and he hands it back to you with a satisfied nod, “Think you know how to operate a camera?” 

“I’m not a dunce, thank you very much.” Your riposte causes him to roll his eyes as he gestures for you to move towards the circle. Despite your initial indignance, it took you a few moments of consideration and blind thumbing until you were confident enough to snap the photo. As you (luckily) manage to get a good shot, you conceal your surprise as the photo immediately begins to peek out of the bottom slit, slowly being spat out. 

How convenient.

You nimbly pull the photo out once it seems to stop sputtering, and hand the camera over to Anders before peering at the developing square film. Slowly, you watch as the outlines of the ritual circle bloom into visibility. 

You take a couple more moments to run your eyes over the photo before placing it in Anders’ awaiting palm. The man hobbles over to his table and clips the photo to one of the pages, placing the camera on the stack of papers afterwards. 

“Okay, now put your boy’s photo in the center—next to the Uruz symbol.” 

You wordlessly comply with Anders’ words, and slowly tiptoe out of the circle, eyes never straying from Regulus’ face. The man moves to the opposite side of the circle, and pats at the air, gesturing for you to sit down. 

Watching from your position on the floor, Anders begins to chant evenly, eyes closed as you feel him begin to gather his magic to pool across the symbols. The faint steely nature of his magical signature washes over you, and you clasp your hands together in your lap as you feel an immense pressure begin to weigh on the room. Regulus’ photo gives a faint jolt, then another, and then another, until the whole paper begins to vibrate. 

You watch in awe as the photo slowly rises into the air, the Uruz symbol glowing brightly with a faint red hue. In the blink of an eye, the photo jerks sideways and falls onto the Hic symbol to your left just as Anders’ chanting ceases. 

“Hic? Here? What does it mean, here?” Your questions seem to spill out uncontrollably, and you see the older man give the photo a look of consideration. 

“I’m not quite sure. Usually, souls still in the realm of the living are classified as Vivus,” Anders mutters, hand coming up to rub at his chin, “Kid, is that ring of yours imbued with his magic?” 

You nod and reach for your ring, fingers running over the two snakes that you’ve grown accustomed to. Anders sighs before slapping his hand over his entire face, dragging it down as he seems to wage an internal war with himself. 

“You said your boy was in a cave?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, and nod slowly, “Yes…and so are hundreds of other inferis, why?” 

The man meets you gaze with a determined look as you slowly stand up, hands fiddling with your ring. 

“Well, let’s go fetch your boy.” 

The journey back to the cave was bittersweet, and you almost lost your footing as you apparated to the very spot you had before, except this time with a rather grumpy presence by your side. Water batted against the rock you were rooted to, droplets of water flying into your face periodically. You could barely make out the view in front of you as the moon faintly illuminated the waves.

As you apparate with Anders to the shore, you feel a lump grow in your throat. Your heart was beating violently against your chest, and a cold sweat started to break through the surface of your skin. 

The muted crunching of sand and rocks under your shoes grounded you to reality as the void of the cave engulfed you, washing away the sea of stars that had been beaming at you from above.

“Lumos.” 

As you extended your wand in front of you, you had half the mind to be cautious of potential bloodthirsty death eaters or one psychotic dark lord, realizing that perhaps the certifiable man would be on the upkeep for his horcruxes. 

Soon, you both reached the rounded end of the cave, and Anders shoots you an unimpressed look. Holding a hand up at him, you extinguish your lumos and bring your wand to your palm, “Secare.”

Dragging the tip of your wand against your palm, the spell slowly cuts your skin enough to draw blood. Satisfied with your work, you swipe your bloodied cut against the damp rocks behind you. 

“Lumos.” 

The wall of charcoal stone crumbles away like you remembered, and you’re immediately met with a wave of faint heat. 

Remnants of your fire storm from last time?

“Bloody hell,” Anders croaks from behind you, eyes glimmering at the sight of the sumptuous crystal clusters. The milky geodes sent a shiver down your spine as you started to draw a resemblance between their geometric planes and the cloudy skin of the inferis. 

Making your way through the dark ventricle of minerals, you slowly emerge into the belly of the cave, the familiar void of water just meters away from you. 

“We’re here. They’re in there,” your voice falls into a whisper, “he’s in there.”

Anders steps out from behind you and pulls out his own wand, the worn ashen wood barely visible in the light of your lumos. Tilting his head towards you, he looks at you with a solemn gaze before asking, “His full name?” 

“Regulus Arcturus Black.” 

Nodding, the man turns towards the lake and moves his wand counterclockwise, “Prodire Regulus Arcturus Black.” 

Nothing happens for a few seconds, until abruptly — something breaks through the surface of the water and flies towards your awaiting figures, stilling to a stop in front of Anders as if colliding with an invisible wall. Your hand swings to cover your mouth as your eyes trail along the spindly creature: its body was slack in the air, arms stiff like milky needles, chest unnaturally thin with a protruding rib cage that threatened to burst through bruised skin, and a rawboned face veiled by the darkness. 

This thing was Regulus?

You felt your world begin to tip and spin, eyes burning then blurring rapidly. Shivers wracked through your chest as sobs seemed to well in your throat. Closing your eyes, you try to steady your breathing, but the flashing image of Regulus’ face and then the sight of the horrid creature infiltrate your head. 

It feels as though a millennia of your discombobulation passes by before you feel a firm grip on your shoulder, the gesture helping to keep you upright on your feet. 

“Come on, kid,” Anders’ face comes into view and you see his eyes soften uncharacteristically, his mouth set into a hard frown. Your eyes stray to the side and you see that the man had summoned a cloth to cover the inferi during your small episode, the lumpy bundle now floating in the air nearby. 

Nodding quickly, you swallow harshly before spinning around, “Right. Sorry.” Your whisper is met with a comforting silence, and you appreciated more than ever, Anders’ ability to know when words weren’t needed. 

As you both stiffly trek back through the cave, you begin to feel a weight of foreboding blanket your body. Picking up the pace, you step out of the mouth of the cave with sweaty hands, eyes darting around wildly. 

“Hurry,” your choked whisper confuses the older man, but he abides nonetheless. As you grab his forearm and hesitantly grab a part of the covered inferi, you hear a faint warping echo from off to the side. 

Gasping quietly into the chilly air, you barely catch a glimpse of the familiar figure before you’re tugged away by the distortion of apparition. You can barely breathe as your heart seems to stutter uncontrollably. 

You land back inside the research room with Anders and Regulus’ inferi, not even noticing how cramped the space now was as you tried to quell your panic. 

“Kid? What’s wrong?” Anders floats the clothed figure down into the center of the circle as you buckle to the ground, blood flushing cold. 

“Voldemort. He was there.” You gasp out. 

The man jolts to a paralyzed freeze as his eyes widen comically, his heart no doubt beginning to race as fast as yours. You shake your head jerkily and wave your hand aimlessly, “He didn’t see you. Or well, you were covered by the cloth, but he definitely noticed me.” 

The dryness of your mouth was beginning to prickle and itch, your skin suddenly feeling too tight on your body. You were sure he recognized you, after all, he was always in Harry’s head. 

“Then we just have to hurry a bit.” Anders' steady words have you snapping your attention over to him, confused as to why he was so calm now. Seeing your distraught gaze, he sighs, “He won’t come for you for now, I’m sure he is focused on your other friends. Besides, even if he were, he has no idea where to even look.” 

Nodding with an unconvinced frown, you feel your fear melt away into a stony resolve, eyes flickering over to look at the figure laying in the circle. 

“Thank you, Anders.” Your dry whisper has him cracking a small smile. 

“Thank me when your boy is back up and running.” 

You were robotically drawing more rune characters, eyes unfocused as you were too entranced by your thoughts. You weren’t sure what the older man was planning as he hadn’t explained to you what this additional ritual entailed, but you were determined to make it work. 

As you complete the last etching, head rising up to look at the concentrated man, he finally breaks the tense atmosphere, “I don’t know if it’ll work, but the combination of his soul and your ring might just do the trick.”

Tilting your head to the side, you try not to sound too hopeful, “So, he’ll be completely recovered if it works?” 

“Not completely, he’ll need time to rejuvenate his magical core. This would be unprecedented, kid. I don’t have all the answers, and I can’t promise that it will work, but I am going to do my best.” His eyes are unwavering, back straightened with coiled tension. 

You nod hastily, knowing that you were both pretty much running on wishes. As Anders double checks your rune work, you slowly slip your ring off your finger, cringing as the cold air brushes against your naked finger. 

You hadn’t ever taken it off before. 

Placing the cool band next to the covered figure, you step out of the circle and clench your hands. Anders nods in confirmation before stepping out as well, slowly hobbling over to stand on the opposite side of the circle. 

“Let your magic funnel out into the circle as well. You won’t need to chant.” Anders' brief words have you nodding, and you slowly shuffle from leg to leg, fatigue starting to seep into your veins. 

The chanting begins soon after, and you allow the metaphorical valves of your magical core to open, feeling the coolness of your magic sweeping to tangle with Anders’ metallic magic. Both of your magical signatures dance around the circle and collect in the center, flexing together above the figure. The entire rune circle seems to radiate in shades of reds and stormy greys before blazing into an endless black.  

Suddenly, you feel magic seep from the clothed figure — a deep, harrowing magic that roused with a small rumble before erupting into a suffocating cloud that could only be described as numbing. 

It was nothing like Regulus’ magic, which meant that this corrupted energy belonged to Voldemort. You grit your teeth as you flush out more of your magic to try and drive away Voldemort’s lingering signature, the psychopath’s magic seeming to screech violently at your attempt. 

The prolonged battle with the stifling magic finally ends as the dark cloud is ripped away from you, pulled in all directions towards the additional runes you drew, the characters radiating in almost a blinding way before ripping apart the corrupted magic. 

The once dark circle stews into a cool grey before disintegrating into a pale green, the light beating melodically. You watch in wonderment as the magic in the ring bubbles into your magic, intertwining with yours before slowly clutching at Anders’ as well. Your potent whirl of combined magic slowly descends towards the clothed figure, causing it to jerk wildly. 

The cloth shuffles with the movements and you see it begin to pull upwards as if the inferi was arching towards your magic. Suddenly, the strings of magic slam into the clothed figure, sending shockwaves throughout the room. 

As you hear a few books tumble to the ground at the energy, the figure twitches once more before falling still again. Anders continues to chant for a few more moments as the circle flares into a blinding white light before it, too, simmered into nothingness. 

You nearly topple over in exhaustion as the energy draws back into your body, the synergies of magic in the room evaporating almost instantaneously. Anders wipes his forehead with his sleeve, and shakily stumbles over to his table for stability. 

“Did it work?” Your voice is crackly as a sharp, sticky pain climbs up your neck. 

The man huffs and glances at you before slowly making his way towards the figure, grunting as he tries to crouch down. He tugs the cloth upward and peers inside, expression unreadable. 

“Well?” 

Anders looks up at you, eyebrows drawn, “I have a lot more to write about.” 

Leaping forward at his words, you rip away the cloth slightly to expose the figure’s head, and you nearly pass out on the spot. 

“It worked. It worked. It worked.” Your quiet chants spurs on a wave of tears as you slowly run your fingers over Regulus’ face. The boy looked picturesque in his sleeping state, face no longer emaciated and bruised, but now mirroring his appearance from when he was just a portrait in your pocket. 

You brush his curls aside and resist the urge to just keel over and fall asleep on him, your magical exhaustion echoing through your bones. 

“Do you have something else on you that’s imbued with his magic?” Anders’ quiet words have you snapping out of your euphoric state, eyes drawn up in confusion. Seeing your perplexity, he clarifies, “He might not remember you, this ritual simply revitalized him and unchained his soul. He might only remember the events before his death.” 

You pause at the revelation and sit up straighter, hands dropping to your sides. Gaping for a few moments, your mind whirs as you try and grasp for the right words, “Uh, wait, yes. I have these.” Your hands fish into your pockets and you pull out the tattered pieces of the golden portrait frame, outstretching them for the man to see. 

“His portrait frame?” Anders’ eyebrows shoot up in stupefaction. 

Nodding, you slowly drop the pieces into his rough palm, “It doesn’t matter.” The man frowns, puzzled, so you continue, “As long as he’s okay, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t remember me.” 

Straightening up from his position, he stares at the pieces of wood in his hand, “He just might remember… if these are truly imbued with his magic.” Looking up, you see skepticism flicker in his eyes, “Are you too beat for another ritual?” 

“You should be asking yourself that, old man.”

You don’t remember much that happens afterwards. 

As you crack your eyes open, lingering fatigue weighing on your eyelids, you are keenly aware of a hand running across your shoulders. 

“Reg?” Your voice comes out as a strained whisper. 

A familiar face pops into your line of sight, “He’s okay, just resting upstairs.” Luna’s smile warms your chest, and you resist the urge to turn over and bury yourself into the warmth of her arms. 

Your body was incredibly sore from the activities of the previous day, and you were sure that your magical core was rolling about, emptily inside of you. The longer you laid, the more groggy you grew as the air started to warm against your skin. 

Gently pushing up from the mattress underneath you, you run a hand down your place as Luna shifts to stand up. The girl helps you shuffle upstairs and towards the bathroom, quietly insisting that you wash up as she prepares tea for you. 

Sluggishly washing up, you take a moment to peer into the cloudy mirror, raising an eyebrow at the sight of heavy bags under your eyes. Your shoulders sagged from exhaustion, and the sound of your grumbling stomach prompted you to make your way towards the kitchen. 

As you slowly trudged into the room, eyes squinting from the beams of sunlight that flitted through the window, you see Asger approach you with a plate in hand. 

“Good afternoon. Dad’s in his research shed right now.” The man extends the plate to you, and your mouth waters at the sight of the hearty lunch. You nod in thanks and drop down onto an awaiting chair, gaze straying towards one of the closed doors down the hall. 

Asger, seeing your restless ministrations, chuckles before answering your unvoiced question, “He’s in there. Hasn’t awakened yet, but Dad said it’s only a matter of time. He's recovering quite fast.” 

Right, your rituals worked. Both of them. It was starting to come back now, and you could feel the weight of the frame pieces and your ring in your pocket, both now depleted of Regulus’ magic. 

Scarfing down your meal, and ignoring Asger’s cringe, you start to mentally debate on whether you should visit Anders first, or Regulus. Luna places a mug in front of you, and plops down into the seat next to yours, fingers fiddling with a few strings of yarn. 

Regulus won out, of course. 

As you dismiss yourself with endless words of gratitude to your two friends, you slowly make your way into the room Regulus was resting in. You cross through the threshold, mug in hand, and immediately surrender yourself to the comforting wave of magic that envelops you. 

The warm magic — Regulus’ magic, brings tears to your eyes, and you have to take a few moments to compose yourself. The aching hollowness in your heart, the one you had grown accustomed to in the following months after the destruction of his portrait, seems to sing with inklings of joy. 

You were still in a state of disbelief, mind reeling from the fact that you not only discovered uncharted branches of magic, but also that you got Regulus back. No, not only you — Sirius was going to get Regulus back, too. 

The boy in question was laid on a makeshift bed, covered by a fleece blanket. Anders took up the great responsibility of clothing him after your flustered realization that he was nude, the man murmuring tidbits about how he did the same for Asger when the younger man fractured his hip years ago. 

You walk over and sit down by his side, brushing your hand over his hair. 

Things would change now. They would be better. 

You spend a long while just sitting by the boy’s side, mind still unconvinced that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. 

After a long thread of thoughts that devolved into heart wrenching what if’s, you decide to pay a visit to Anders, immensely grateful for his help and wisdom. The sunny skies slowly dimmed as clouds drifted by, the air chilling to sooth the faint migraine that still sunk its claws into your head. 

As you make your way into the research room, you can’t mask the smile that stretches across your lips. Anders was hunched over his table, hand moving furiously across a sea of pages as he tried to document every droplet of theory and fact on the papers. Not wanting to interrupt the man’s train of thought, you linger by the doorway before slowly teetering towards a fallen stack of books. 

You organize the endless towers of tomes for a few minutes before Anders takes note of your presence as he goes to stretch his back. 

“Finally awake?” His voice is light, and you could see the remnants of engrossment creeping in his eyes. He truly did have a passion for this branch of research.  

You nod and grin brightly at the man, “Sure am. Now, are you going to accept my thank you?” 

Anders grunts and waves you off with an amused eye roll — the closest thing to a “you’re welcome” in his language, and turns back to his papers, “Anyway, another owl came for you this morning. The letter should be on your stool.” 

As the man resumes his writing, you peer around to try and find the envelope, clicking your tongue when you find the paper beaming at you from across the room. 

Dear Padfoot’s pup, 

We hope you are well. At first, we weren’t going to accept the offer, but some unexpected events happened that forced us away. We are safe now with the frightening widow. We’ve gotten two more, but now the Goblins hate us. 

Stay safe. We are going to remain here until we are forced to confront the darkness. Unfortunately, we fear that it will be soon. 

We miss you. Padfoot keeps whining, we think he misses you most. 

-Prongslet and co. 

You laugh lightly at the contents of the letter, and you fold the paper back up. Good to know that Harry and the others were safe with the Contessa at the very least. As you stuff the paper back in the envelope, you see another folded paper sidled against the wall of the envelope. 

Hello lost friend of mine, 

A certain dragon of ours is growing restless, we fear that his blood father is in trouble with a certain man. The Carrows are a nightmare, and it appears that many students are disappearing with every passing day. Theodore keeps shooting down my (entirely plausible) theory that those twin professors of ours are hiding their bodies in a dark closet somewhere. 

I’ve received a letter from my mother informing me of the rearrangements at home, and I must say, it was quite a surprise. I haven’t heard back from you since you’ve departed, and I almost thought you were dead for a while. Glad to hear that you aren’t. 

Theodore says hi, and he wants to know all the research you’ve done. Our dragon also says hi and that he hopes you received his last letter. 

I hope to hear from you soon. 

(Reply to me.)

-B

“Was it a tawny owl?” Your question rings out into the quiet atmosphere, drawing Anders out of his work. 

The man gives you a grunt of confirmation and you nod in satisfaction. It would appear that Harry is corresponding to you via Contessa Zabini, the woman no doubt telling Blaise to forward the letter to you along with his. 

Merlin, what a strange web of dynamics.

As you tuck away the papers into your pockets, a knock has you spinning on your heel in curiosity. Anders barely even looks up from his work as you make your way to the door, a wave of deja vu slamming into you. 

Opening the door, you see Luna smiling brightly at you, similar to her airy demeanor from the night before.

Before you can get a word out, the girl quickly supplies you with news that has air fleeing from your lungs, “He’s awake.” 

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @littleshadow17 @chocochannie @bl4stonesc @shari-berri

[messenger-of-babel]

Rose Coloured Glasses

Summary: You've only ever been able to see Wesker in shades of pink, even when that colour brings you to your knees.

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes: Language and mention of needles. First time writing for Wesker (woohoo) he's such a fun character to write for. Really hoping to pull out my fav psycho a few more times. Please enjoy! xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your downfall was loving a man in uniform.

You didn't care if it was the one he wore in the morning, clad in the gear required for the captain of S.T.A.R.S. Neatly ironed blue button up tucked into black tactical pants, logo blazing proudly on his shoulder. His hand would come to stroke your cheek softly before being covered with the black leather of his gloves. It was just as good as the one he wore in the evenings, trading it out for a long white lab coat and retreating back to the lab that saw more of him than you ever did.

Your friends called you crazy. The man was married to his job, always in the office and focused on the task. Didn't matter if you had come to bring him lunch and surprise his coworkers that there was, in fact, someone warming his bed at night. You took a selfish kind of pride in that fact, drinking in the startled looks and disturbed gazes of his squad. It was hard to conceal your smile as you raised onto your tiptoes, kissing his cheek lightly before handing over the coffee you had gone to get him. He wouldn't react, of course. He hardly ever did. Gruff and cold, he'd thank you, gloved hand gently pushing you out and away from him. He'd go right back to working like you weren't even there, and you would see yourself out.

They called him toxic. Called him a deadbeat of a partner who couldn't give back what he got. That wasn't even including the secret job as a scientist you kept for him, swearing you'd take that to your grave. You deluded yourself, hanging onto those rose-coloured glasses with tightly wound fingers. It all fell away when he did eventually come to bed, tired and worn but taking his place next to you. It might not seem overly affectionate to anyone else, the way he threw his arm over your midriff, but you knew it was. It was held in the way his breath hit the back of your neck in soft puffs, slowly easing out as he let himself drift asleep. The sleep he denied himself so frequently and seemed to elude him unless you were lying beside him. It was in the way he got up before you did, folding the blankets back up properly once he slipped out, ensuring that the chill of the morning didn't reach you. The way he made sure what you needed was laid out over the back of the chair by the cupboard as he got dressed himself. You liked that he had passion, that he was curious. You liked that he knew what he wanted and how to get it. You liked that he wanted to make a difference in this world, to make his mark.

If only you had known just what kind of mark he was going to make.

When Chris, one of his squad members came to your house, gun drawn, after a particular mission, your glasses were tested. His eyes had been wild, and you were desperate to call for the police if it wasn't for the fact that S.T.A.R.S was the best of them. You hadn't believed anything that he had said at first, shaking your head violently while he hurled accusations of helping him at you. But as the tears pricked your eyes, some of the dots did manage to line up, giving Chris some credibility. It was further backed up when the police report came in from the Arklay incident, and the way that he never came back for you.

Not even once.

You had cried of course. cried for days in fact, at the idea that he had gotten into a dangerous situation and wasn't who he had seemed to be. It wasn't just that fact though. You weren't sure if the reason you were crying was because he had lied, or the fact that regardless, he hadn't come back for you. His uniforms and coats were still ironed and hanging up neatly in the cupboard, his favourite expensive coffee still stocked in the pantry. There were traces of him at every twist and turn of that cramped apartment until you couldn't take it anymore.

You left, doing your best to move on. You had convinced yourself that those rose-coloured glasses were gone, that you had matured and learnt from your time in Raccoon. However, when he turned up on your doorstep, changed but still very recognisable as the Albert you knew, everything was still coloured in shades of pink. You had resisted at the start, you really did. you remembered what Chris had told you about him, about what had happened. you tried to think of the death and the trials and the ethical lines that were crossed in the name of science, the agency he worked had worked for. That is what your brain recited on loop, but unfortunately it was your heart that remembered the way he'd walk on the side closest of the road to protect you, the way his body heat would cling to his jacket he'd offer you, silent and facial expression blank. You couldn’t forget the way his lips would trace across your shoulder the rare times he was actually in the mood, stirring the blood beneath. So, who could blame you when he initiated a hug, something he never did? who could blame the way your body remembered to melt into him, eyes fluttering shut as you cried. You weren't sure if it was tears of relief or not.

Now you were here, in some safe house. The red, rosy hue was gone, replaced with a monochrome grey that was as bland as you felt. Your glasses hadn't just been pried from your hands; you had held on too tight. Instead, the way you woke up to what was happening was the shattering of the lenses, causing a painful awakening. He had said he had a gift, something for your anniversary. You wished you could take away the memory of how your body had warmed in excitement, thrilled at the idea of a gift.

He had definitely changed since he had been away, uniforms ditched in favour of a black leather fit that clung to his frame, black frames perched on his nose. You hadn't cared, if your Albert was back, he was back. However, as he had pinned your arm down on the dining room table, shades tossed to some corner from where you had slapped them off and revealing his glowing eyes, you realised your old Albert was gone. Your old Albert still had some humanity in him.

"To take you with me to the new world." he had said gruffly when you protested and screamed, the syringe hovering above your skin. "To see if you're worthy."

You didn't know what this 'new world' of his was or what he was fighting to inject into your system. You had detached yourself completely from his work, asking nothing. You knew in the back of your mind that you should. That you should ask and see for yourself, but the bliss of having him back paired with the absolute fear that you wouldn't like what you would see kept your mouth shut. When that needle breached your skin, it had burnt like fire.

You screamed; face contorted. When the plunger was fully dispensed, he let your arm go and you stumbled away, tripping over your own feet. Holding your arm to your chest you sobbed, making out the shape of his boots as they appeared in your tear blurred vision. He crouched down, softly petting your hair with a tenderness that now scared you. "There." he hummed, satisfied with himself. "Now you'll be more than human. You'll be what you deserve to be."

"What do you mean?" you had forced your throat to croak out, trying your best to not throw up.

"The Uroboros. It will fuse with your body on a cellular level soon enough, and then you can rule with me. Usher in the new dawn and set the sun on the age of man."

His words and smug tone had begun to scare you, tears slipping down your cheeks. However, you didn’t get a moment to ask him what he meant as your body arched, jerking at the sudden pain that overtook you. It felt like your bones were all snapping, a burning hot liquid coursing through your body. It was as if your veins had been replaced by acid, contorting your mouth into shrieks and wails as it raced around your system. It was the worst pain you had ever felt in your life, and the last thing you could make out before your brain blacked out was the face of a monster peering down at you, red eyes boring into yours like the devils.

Then you awoke here, in the safe house. A place only he and his closest employees could access. Your room was lush, bed was soft and comfortable. decor was a little dated, but it still complimented each other regardless. The closet filled with your favourite clothes, brands and pieces that you had lost back in the bombing of Raccoon. The small tea cupboard was stocked with the ingredients needed for your favourite hot drinks and fresh groceries were dropped off every week through a dumbwaiter. It might have even been enjoyable, save for the fact that the walls were glass, separated from prying eyes of the outside only by the curtains you pulled across it.

Not like you had many visitors anyways. Wesker himself had only visited you twice, caught up in his major plan and crushing Chris Redfield under his heel. He had stroked your face sweetly, but the cold of the leather now sent unpleasant shivers down your skin. He promised he would return for you when the new world he envisioned was on the horizon, and he'd come back for you to usher in the new age.

Then he was gone, leaving you alone save for the virus he'd planted in your body. Now you lied on your side atop the large mattress, tracing over your arm. Your skin bulged and warped unpleasantly where you traced, fingertips bringing vine-like contortions to your skin, disfiguring it. You healed faster than you ever had before since he injected you, the most fucked up anniversary gift he had given you to date. He had been thrilled of course, praising you. Telling you that, 'He knew you would be perfect,' as if you hadn’t now turned into some monstrosity. Your veins flared black when you got angry, and everything became overwhelming.

The lights were too bright, sounds too loud. You moved faster that you meant to, creating bruises as you bumped into things before the dark marks healed before your eyes. He had said something like this would happen, when he tried to coach you through it. You had spat at him to leave. You didn’t want to partake in the tenderness he now offered, now twice as affectionate now that the virus had taken root in your system. He was convinced you would come around, if you only knew.

With each passing day that felt more and more unlikely. Empty syringe canisters decorated the top of the dresser, the one thing that was helping you still feel moderately human. He had cases of it sent to you twice a month, telling you to take it regularly in order to maintain your new 'gift'. You didn’t care about his gift. Didn't care if it died a slow, painful death within your body, but you didn't want to go down with it. The Uroboros inside you calmed when you took it, no longer trying to press against your skin uncomfortably, no longer speaking words into your mind and filling your thoughts with dramatic urges for violence.

As you depressed the syringe plunger in your leg, it was a like a breath of fresh air after forgetting how to breathe, clearing the mist from your eyes. Your jaw drops in relief as you take your medication, eyelashes fluttering. You only had three left, enough to last you maybe under a month if you were lucky. Despite sending notes back up the dumbwaiter asking where your next case was, there was no reply.

The fear had begun to set it in. No one knew where you were, and if someone managed to have stopped your crazed ex-partner, there'd be little to no chance that he'd give up your location, even if it meant saving you. He was too prideful for that, something you used to find endearing about him. You rub your thumb over the puncture site, lip trembling as you fight back the urge to cry. There was only so much medication left, and when it ran out you knew the urge inside you would take over. You would lose your humanity just like he did, hands just as stained.

Your tears were stained deep into the fabric of your pillow as you cried again that night, fear and shame wrapping claws around your chest like usual. You could feel it asleep under your skin, coiled like a snake waiting to break free from its prison. Maybe this was your punishment, to have to count down your days in silence, dreading the next dose you'd be forced to take. All alone, waiting to either get more medication or to become a monster. You slowly slipped into sleep once you let exhaustion take you, wishfully hoping, praying that someone would come to get you. Anyone but the man in uniform who had become your downfall.

Your rose-coloured glasses may have showed you the world in pink, but no one told you it was blood on the other side of those lenses.

[milunalupin]

— tale as old as time

a/n: welcome to my beast!remus x beauty!reader series ! i hope you come along this journey with me and enjoy!

chapter one

remus lupin x reader ★ 1.4k words

Gowns and music filled the ballroom, the castle's servants walking around with silver trays of the most luxurious desserts in France. Beautiful and wealthy people danced around to the sound of the piano and the most famous opera singer money could buy in all of Europe.   

The ballroom was decked out in glimmering jewels and fresh flora, the smell of roses strong in the air.  In the middle was Prince Remus Lupin, twirling countless girls about, a smirk on his handsome powdered face.  The Lupins ruled the Alsace region, their wealth apparent by their acres of meticulously landscaped property, the glimmer of the sun on the enormous castle blinding. Remus was an only child who was raised by King Lyall and Queen Hope, until the queen passed away from an illness many years ago, leading the Prince to grow up with the influence of his cold and selfish father.

Staff members were forced to turn a blind eye when they would see the young master walk through the castle with watery eyes or badly hidden bruises. No matter how much they pitied him, his father would rid them of their job in a heartbeat if they dared speak up about it. With every passing year, Prince Remus grew to be increasingly more his father, prioritizing status over everything.  Remus' life was filled with anything he wanted, and obviously once you have everything, things get boring. So, he constantly hosted balls and invited only the most beautiful and influential people in France. Men and women came from all over the country dressed in the most lavish of outfits, trying to gain the attention of the young Prince. 

In a silky yellow tailcoat stood the royal family's head of kitchen staff, Sirius Black. He let out an exaggerated sigh as he stood along his colleagues, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.  "How many girls will leave crying tonight, do you think?" 

James, dressed in all white with embroidered lapels, rolled his eyes and frowned as he watched the Prince.  "He'll never get married if he keeps acting like this, never form a true bond with anyone." 

A huff came from Peter, who looked the worst out of the three of them (according to Sirius), in a simple brown waistcoat. He held his prized pocket watch in his hand, constantly checking the time to ensure the party was running smoothly.  "The prince's love life isn't really any of our business, Sirius." 

Peter Pettigrew, to say the least, was a suck up, and nothing but loyal to the royal family. It was in his blood; his family having served the royal family for decades. Naturally, he started working under his father in the administrative department and moving ranks until he was appointed head of house, managing the rest of the staff as His Highness' right-hand man. 

James Potter credits everything he has now to his beautiful mother, Euphemia, who was an incredible seamstress who worked in the castle years prior. Now, James assists the young master with his clothing as well as leads the housekeeping staff with his mini assistant Harry, who's favorite thing to do is fold the towels into swans. 

Sirius met James when they worked together at a pub in town before James accepted his position among the royal staff. He was an orphan who had run away from his abusive foster parents. Euphemia felt for the boy and had immediately taken them in like her own son. Cooking meals with his new family ignited his love for food and with help from the Potters, had gone to culinary school. Later, with James's help, began as a waiter at the castle turned kitchen manager. 

Prince Remus, to be frank, doesn't love, not really once his mother had passed. Once under the orders of his father, his image, and the people he surrounded himself with became a priority. Being human was being vulnerable, and being vulnerable was being weak. That's why he found himself surrounded by attractive women, knowing that each one hanging onto his arm believed that they would be the one he fell in love with, inheriting his fortune and power. His arm was around one of the maidens' waists, loosely spinning her as his eyes scanned the room for someone more interesting. 

"My lord, I can't help but believe you might have an interest in me. this is the second time we've danced tonight; you need not be so shy." 

His eyes dropped back to Amelie? Emily? who blushed under his gaze, looking up at him through her fluttering eyelashes. He scoffed and retracted his hand from her waist, pushing past her towards another, ignoring her pleas and attempts to grab his arm. As much fun as he had being the center of attention and being the one everyone wanted to be with, he despised the desperate ones, none of them being worth his actual time. 

"Papa, I brought the napkins you asked for!" 

Sirius, James, and Peter turned to find Harry, James's son, holding a stack of cloth napkins up to him with a bright smile, his glasses sliding down his nose. James grinned as he took the napkins from Harry, pushing his glasses back up his nose and fixing his hair. 

"Great job Harry, now run along." 

"You've got him working already Potter? A chip off the old block, that one is." Peter chuckled, smiling along his colleagues as they watched little Harry skip away. 

The doors suddenly burst open, a woman in a cloak falling to the ground, her hood slipping and exposing her ratty grey hair. The maidens closest to the door gasped and squealed as they backed up, trying to distance themselves from the old woman. The music has stopped, Prince Remus weaving his way through the crowd to stand before the elderly intruder. 

"Who let you in, peasant? This ball is invite only." 

The woman looked up, her cloudy grey eyes looking into the Prince's. She held up a single rose, offering him the flower for temporary shelter from the cold. Prince Remus scoffed, rolling his eyes at the woman. The party goers laughed at the old woman from the other side of the ballroom. 

A smirk appeared on the old woman's face, as her body under the cloak began to glow a warm yellow, what seemed liked enchanted haze spreading towards the aghast party goers. Flower petals began to float around the woman as she transformed into a younger, more beautiful version of herself, her now bright blue eyes staring into the Prince's. The guests screamed at they scrambled to escape the sorcery they've witnessed, polished shoes trampling over expensive fabric and rose petals. 

The royal staff looked on in fear, not knowing how to help their master in this situation. James weaved through the people rushing out and found Harry hiding in a corner. He picked him up and turned to head out the door but stopped when he heard a deep growl coming from the center of the room. 

The cloud of magic enveloped Prince Remus, his bones cracking and expanding as his body slowly transformed him into a large, furry monster. His perfect silk robes tearing and falling off the Prince's new body. Large curved horns grew out of his head, and his perfect teeth evolved into sharp fangs. His once perfect appearance turned into one of a menacing animal. 

The young Prince had failed his test from the enchantress. He had not shown kindness to a stranger in need and had confirmed his own selfishness and entitlement. He was mean and ugly on the inside, so she had turned him into who he really was, a beast. Adding on to that, she left a powerful spell on the castle and villagers, turning the royal staff into household objects for allowing the Prince's behavior, and erasing all memory of the royal castle and its inhabitants from the villagers. The curse was infinite, unless the prince managed to make someone fall in love with him. 

Over the years the castle grew colder, lonelier as Remus and his staff became more hopeless for a chance to end the curse. Snow had fallen over the crumbling castle and grounds, the bitterness of the cold outside matching what Remus was feeling in his heart. 

 He was doomed, turned into a disgusting monster for the rest of his days, because who could ever learn to love a beast? 

[jawritter]

Dean’s Birthday Surprise

Summary: Y/N get’s Dean a kinky surprise for his 44th Birthday!

Warnings: 18 + Only!! HERE THERE BE SMUT!!!! NO ONE UNDER 18 SHOULD READ THIS FIC!!!  Crotchless panties, girl on top, fingering, language, nudity. P & V smut. 

Written For: @spnkinkevents

Prompt: Crotchless Panties

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2k 

A/N: A little something I through together for our best boy’s birthday! This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! Feedback is golden! Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Dean’s POV:

Dean felt old, and he hated every minute of it. 

Honestly, he never expected to live to see 44 years of age. He figured he was gonna die bloody as a young man. When he was 43 he came damn close to it.

Still, here he stands. Alive, well, and more than a little depressed. 

He couldn't understand it really, how he got old. One minute he was a young man, hunting, and had the ladies eating out of the palm of his hand. Next, he was being told her had "dad bod", whatever the fuck that was. 

Logically, Dean knew he wasn't old, he just didn't expect to live this long. He didn't know what to do with his life from here. Sure, he had Y\N, but how long could he expect that to last really? She was young, beautiful, smart, hell, he was surprised every day he woke up and she was still laying with her head on his chest. Fuck if he'd ever understand why she loved him, but she said she did.

"Happy birthday handsome," her voice sounded from behind him as her arms wrapped around his middle, and her head rested on his back. Good he didn't deserve her. She was far too perfect for him. Still, he was selfish, and he loved her, so he did everything he could to make her stay.

"Thanks," he managed to croak out after clearing his throat. He stopped the sponge in his hand into the soap filled bucket at his feet so that he could rest his hand on top of hers.

"You gonna take her for a spin now that you got her all clean?" She questioned, sliding herself around to stand in front of him moving her hands to rest on his shoulders. 

Dean hummed before pressing his lips to her own in a brief kiss. To brief for his liking, normally he was much more thorough. He was just so trapped in his head. Maybe a drive would do him some good. Being alone in Baby always helped clear his head. 

"Yeah, I think I will…"

"Good," she quipped quickly. "Cause when you get home I got a surprise for my favorite birthday boy." 

"Aw baby," Dean said with an exhausted sigh. " I told you that you didn't have to make a fuss over me."

"No argument Mr.! "She fussed, shoving his shoulders playfully and earning a genuine smirk from him. "Now, you go take a ride, clear your head so you can get out of whatever headspace you're trapped in there, and we're gonna have some time alone with the bunker all to ourselves."

Dean sighed heavily before leaning forward to peck her lips again. 

"Where's Sammy gonna be?" Dean questioned, turning to stare at his girl, who was leaning against her bright red, classic Mustang. Admiring him like he was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen. God he really, really didn't deserve her.  

"He and Eileen have a date tonight, and he said he's already planning to stay there at her house," Y/N answered. "Now GO! I got to get ready for your present."

"Fine, fine," Dean waved her off and opened the car door, shaking his head in disbelief at this woman and how she could possibly love him. 

Y/N POV:

Three hours later, Y/N found herself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup with nothing on but a short, black silk robe, and a pair of lace, crotchless panties. 

Normally, Dean wasn't much for theatrics. 'They're just gonna end up on the floor anyway', he says, but Y/N knew that he enjoyed these kinda things more than he wanted to admit. He just didn't want her to feel like she HAD to do this kinda thing for him. Like he didn't deserve the extra attention. Y/N disagree, honestly she wished he'd let her do more. She would just have to settle for birthdays and special occasions, today just happened to be Dean's birthday. 

Besides, when he saw her in this, she was pretty sure that he wasn’t gonna have enough blood left in his brain to argue about it with her anyway. 

She quickly brushed her hand through her hair to give herself some volume, and smiled victorious at the image of the woman she’d created staring back at her. She was quite proud of this look if she did say so herself. 

As if on cue, Y/N heard the distinct sound of the bunker garage door closing, and she knew she had just a few minutes before Dean came wandering into their shared room. He was very much a creature of habit, or else this surprise would have been a lot harder to pull off. 

Still, knowing Dean the way she did, she hurried to position herself on the bed, first trying laying in her side, but that didn’t really work for, then she tried laying her back, but that really didn’t do it, so she tried a fail safe, something she knew Dean enjoyed, even if he didn’t want to admit that he enjoyed it, and that was her on her knees, in the middle of the bed, waiting for him like the good girl he loved so much. 

She had no more loosened the ties on her kaminio, revealing the perfect swells of her supple breast, than the bedroom door cracked open, and Dean stepped in, still looking at his phone. 

“Hey baby, I’m hungry, I’m think about ordering a piz—”

Dean’s words died somewhere in his throat when he looked up to find Y/N kneeling in the center of the bed, legs spread just enough to not reveal too much, but enough to be inviting, and nothing but a thin, black slick gathering of fabric covering his prize. His phone slipped from his fingers, and landed on the floor along with his jaw, and she couldn’t help but smirk in victory. 

“Happy birthday De,” she voiced as he started to robotically kick off his shoes, as well as shed his jacket, attempting to shed all of the layers he had on as fast as he possibly could. “Why don’t you come on over here and open up your present?”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, as he ripped his shirt off his head, leaving a cute, hedgehog hairstyle behind. He was already working his belt and jeans loose before he started to move towards the bed, hungry green eyes taking in all that they could devour.

“Goddamit baby girl, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack,” Dean mumbled as he climbed onto the bed knees first. His hands already reached for her hips to pull her as flush to him as she could before their lips collided with one another in a deep, need filled kiss.

“So I take it that you like it then,” she questioned as she pulled away from him, leaving him chasing her kiss with the most adorable disgruntled face. Almost as if he was confused and offended at her for taking her lips away from his too soon. 

“Fuck yeah I do,” he said, his thick, capable fingers already pulling the thin black tigh loose, causing her covering to fall apart, and reveal his real resent underneath.

“Are those crotchless,” his graveled voice trimmed down from his perfect, pink, kiss swollen lips in almost a whisper. 

Y/N shrugged, smirking. “Well Dean, you said that these kinda things are pointless because they always ended up on the floor anyway, so I decided I’d save you the trouble and just get a pair of easy access ones that can stay on.”

As she spoke, Dean’s mouth attacked her throat, laying the pair of them back onto the bed behind her carefully. His cock already hard and straining against his black boxers, begging to be released, so she obliged, and slid them down his hips so that he could kick them off, leaving himself bare before her. 

“How did I get so damn lucky?” Dean questioned just as his perfect mouth sealed over her already erect nipple from the cool temperature of the room contrasting with the fire that Dean was already stoking inside of her. His fingers slipped between her folds, teasing her already sensitive clit as he worked her over, making it harder and harder for her to concentrate. “So fucking beautiful Y/N.”

“Pretty sure I’m the lucky one De,” she managed to say between desperate pants as Dean moved over to the other breast, determined to not leave anyone out, and slipped his thick fingers into her slick heat with ease, curing them in all the right places as he slowly pumped them in and out of her dripping cunt, causing the cord in her stomach to wind tighter and tighter until she was cumming undone underneath him, screaming his name like a prayer. 

“So fucking beautiful Y/N/N,” he repeated as he kissed his way back up to her face, leaving as many little wet, opened mouthed kisses as he could muster as he did while she slowly decended from the high he’d driven her too. 

“Your turn handsome, it is your birthday after all,” she tried to sit up, but he stopped her, his wide palm resting softly against her shoulder to hold her back down as he pumped his pink, fully erect, leaking cock in his hand. 

“No, no princess, it’s my present, and I”ll play with it however I want too, and baby I wanna watch,” he growled  as he carefully slid his swollen length through her slick, gathering as much of her juices as he could before sliding into welcoming center, moaning audibly as he watched her body close in around him, covered in black lace. 

He pumped slowly there, watching his body disappear into her own, mesmerized by sight that lay underneath him, and she shivered as each slow drag of his manhood through her quivering cunt drover her too damn near insanity, stretching her and filling her, but never quite giving her what she needed.

Without warning, Dean flipped the pair of them over, settling her on top of him so that he could watch her more easily, totally and completely captivated, like a man starved, or a blind man seeing for the first time. She would never understand why he always looked at her like that. Not when she felt like the lucky one. 

Dean was a man of few words, but he didn’t have to say anything as she slowly rose and lowered herself on his dick, causing him to toss his head back and his eyes to roll momentarily as his hips rose and feel to meet her pace until neither of them could take it anymore and she began to ride him in earnest. Leaving the room filled with sounds of heavy breath and skin against skin. 

Dean’s thick fingers sank deep into her thighs as he rolled his hips up to meet her, he was so close, she could see it in the way he strained to hold on as long as he could, drag it out as long as possible, until his body was shaking underneath her own, and his dick twitched heavily as he came deep inside of her, triggering her own release as well. 

“Sammy’s gone all night you said?” Dean panted as helped her off of his softening cock to lay down on his heaving chest, 

“Yep, all night,” she chuckled. 

“Good,” he replied, “cause in fifteen minutes we’re going again.”

Forever:

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@jensenslady79​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnwoman​​​

@stoneyggirl2​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men​​​​​

@stixnstripesworld​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fullwattpadmusictree​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@nancymcl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@christycreature​​​​​​

@whiskey-infused-dreams​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@supernatural79impala​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deandreamernp​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@forgetthisbull​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@miraclesoflove​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@slamminmine​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​

@rvgrsbrns​​​​​​​​​​​

@chevyharvelle​​​​​​​​​​​

@i-love-superhero-movies​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyss-dw79​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@magssteenkamp​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lemondropirwin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@squirrelnotsam​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@hobby27​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@thecreatiivecorner​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@vicmc624​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​​​​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyarr24​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@flamencodiva​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@itmejado​​​​​​​​​​​​

@thoughts-and-funnies​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@teresa-67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@hearteyes-j2​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@peaches007​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@bobbie3939​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@vulgar-library​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@writercole​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fairlyspnfanfic​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@sexyvixen7​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spngi​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@b3autyfuldisast3r​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@donnaintx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@maliburenee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@the-family-business67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@agirlwithdemonblood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@captainsoldiergirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@impalaslytherin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@akshi8278​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@love-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@irmcpar​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​���

@pink-sparkly-witch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@dean-spinster-witch​

@herstarburststories​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@mimaria420​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@charred-angelwings​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@pascal-rascal424​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@myloversgone​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@eevvvaa​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​

@jxackles​​​​​

@lassie-bird​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@samsgirl93​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@shawnie74​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@kaz11283​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@mlovesstories​​​​​​​​​​​

@ladysparks78

[kiwi-channn]

falling petals

Simon Riley × fem reader (wife)

∆ Simon cheats on reader while being in deployment and confesses to her ∆

(reader referred to as "she-little lady-y/n -pumpkin-dove)

Part2 here

~~~~~~~~~~~🥀🥀🥀~~~~~~~~~~

She was making dinner for her husband... Wearing her apron and focusing to make a perfect meal for her man ... Simon was in a long deployment... She hasn't seen him for six months... It has been so long... She feels so excited that he is finally gonna be home any minute now....

He texted her telling her that he will be back at around 10 pm... And it's 9:30 now... And she prepared the house for his return... Like rearranging the books in the shelves because he likes it to be in an alphabetical order... And she put on his favorite bedsheets on the bed.... And she bought a lot of his favorite black tea.... Just small things he likes...

She also put on his favorite perfume... He always compliments her whenever he smells it on her... And she wore his hoodie... He loves when she wore his clothes... Whenever he sees her wearing his clothes, he won't be able to keep his hands to himself... He will touch her whenever he had the chance...

She blushes as she thinks about all of this... In her own little world... Daydreaming about her man's return...

More time passes ... And she finally hears the keys in the keyhole... And she beams at that familiar sound... And she puts the spatula down on the counter... And fixes her hair quickly... Then she walks to the doorway to welcome him....

"babe.... Welcome back..." Says happily upon seeing him coming through the door... she feels so excited ... Runs and hugs him tight... Squeezing him as strong as she could... And he smiles calmly and hugs her back... As tired as he feels he can never refuse his little wife's hug...

"getting stronger ha?... My little lady" he jokes lightly as he takes off his balaclava and buries his face into her neck...

She chuckles softly.. "how are you?.. you injured?..." Says worryingly...

"no.. iam fine... Look at me... I am back..." Says calmly with his deep harsh voice...

She smiles happily and looks up at him...

"yes.. I am glad you are safe...".. then she pulls his arm... "Come on... Dinner is ready.. and I prepared the shower too.."

"okay... Little lady" teases her as he follows her inside their house...

...................

After dinner and a warm shower... He feels the guilt eating his heart... Making him feel heavy ... He wanted to just forget it... Pretend he didn't do anything... But he can't... He tried to act normal ... When he saw her happy warm expression upon seeing him... He felt like he was dying... He feels disgusted at himself...

He looks at his reflection in the mirror and he feels bitter... Will his wife forgive him?... Will this break his house?.. will it end everything they built together in those six years?...

He closes his eyes as he starts shaking from how angry he feels at himself... He feels so mad at his own selfish self... He wasn't using his brain... Not even his heart... It was pure lust and need... He was bent up and lonely... He wanted some warmth... He couldn't resist her seduction... He curses himself... He curses the day he started this sin...

..............

"babe!... You okay in there?... You took so long...."

Her soft voice from the other side of the door snaps him out of his thoughts... And he takes a deep breath to calm himself down..

"iam fine, pumpkin... Gonna be out in a few minutes"

"okay... I will be waiting for you in bed"

She says lastly and she leaves... She heads to the bedroom and tucks herself in bed... As she sighs contently... She will finally beside Simon after those long months...

..............

He comes inside the bedroom... As he is only wearing his robe... And she was reading a novel in bed... And he keeps watching her... And whenever she looks up from her novel.. he will immediately look away... He can't look her in the eyes...

He wears something comfy and he slowly lays beside her in bed... She then closes her novel and puts it on the nightstand beside her... Turning off the light...

Then she gets closer to him and she snuggles into his arms... Her body relaxing in his embrace...

"I really missed you..." She Whispers softly with a relieved huff....

"yeah... Missed you too" answers back in a quiet gentle voice... And he decides not to tell her anything after all... It will break them..."good night... Dove"

...................

Two weeks passed since then.. and she feels a slight change in him... He is gentler.. and he became nicer too... It's not like he wasn't nice... But he became nicer... Buying her lots of gifts and flowers... Flirting with her so often... Complimenting her whenever.. it's a bit too much... And she starts Wondering if something happened in his previous deployment....

"What are you watching?..." She says softly as she approaches him and sits beside him on the sofa ...

He scoffs a bit to make space for her...

"just an old movie..."

"hmm... I see" mumbles quietly...

He feels her thinking about something and he puts his arm around her shoulders...

"spell it out..."

She chuckles a bit as he always understands her without a word...

"I wanted to talk to you about something... Maybe it's me reading so much into it... But I feel like you are hiding something from me..."

He feels panic... His heart falling down in his stomach...

"what?... Why are you saying that?... I can never hide anything from you" says gently as he tries to push this aside...

She stares at him for a few seconds... Then she smiles softly...

"okay... I trust you..."

He hears this and he couldn't hide it anymore... He stays silent for a few minutes... Just looking at her... He sees how much she loves him and trusts him.. and he can't fool her anymore....

"there's is actually something I need to tell you about..." He says so quietly and looks down... Avoiding her eyes ... "It happened when I was in the last deployment..."

She stays quiet as she waits to hear what happened back then....

"I was seeing someone else in the past 4 months..." He admits bluntly... He has always been straightforward....

She freezes... Her heart sinking... And she can't process what she just heard... Nor open her mouth and talk... She just stays silent... Shocked...

"but I cut everything with her... I don't see her anymore.. nor talk to her anymore.. I swear... It's over... It was a big mistake.." he continues quietly... "I got weak...."

"y/n..." He calls her name and looks up at her... And he was surprised by her reaction... She was just looking at him... Tears filling up her eyes...

"I.. iam so sorry... Forgive me.. please... Y/n" says softly as he slowly approaches her and he hugs her tight... He just wanna comfort her right now... He hates seeing her like this.. broken and devestated...

"don't cry..."

[cupidscrule]

BLACK CAT

Leon X Fem! reader

P in V, smut

[ no tw, vanillaish idk ]

1.2k wrd

”Woah, woah, slow down” Leon chuckled as you started explaining another cool story to him.

Your relationship was like the definition of a black cat and a golden retriever. You always have so much energy and are nice to almost everyone. Leon on the other hand is a tough agent who doesn’t really enjoy showing much emotion. He’s pretty stern towards others— but his softspot for you is clear.

”Okay, i’m listening. Tell me” He said while you were walking together with your fingers interlocked.

"okay okay! So THEN after Fluttershy wrote an entire song, rainbow dash just decides to throw it out? Ugh she's such a bitch. Don't you agree? I mean her friend went through all the trouble to try and get them to win the battle of the bands but she's so selfish.." you said, going on about a children's movie. You loved cute things, hello kitty, my little pony, really anything a 12 year old girl would be obsessed with, wearing cute little outfits and rambling about pointless stuff. But hey it made you happy and Leon thought it was adorable

"Mhm, yeah, so selfish" Leon couldn’t help but chuckle a little about how into the movie she was. by now he knew EVERYTHING about these stupid colourful horses, rainbowdash, fluttershy, twilight, pinkie, apple jack, list goes on. Honestly from what he knew rarity seemed like the best- I mean she was a boss bitch.

He found the whole thing pretty amusing, you were just so excited about it and he’s glad you have stuff you're so.. passionate about

"I mean, it would probably get annoying if her friend just wasted all that effort right? " He said trying to show his interest in her story.

"exactly! Ugh finally you get it" you said smiling up to him, leaning closer into his side as you two walked down back home, it was a long day. Like REALLY long, you took Leon shopping, got your nails done, bought some new skirts, and a new album. All that sort of stuff, but y'know dragging Leon aside you cause someone had to carry the shit, you were gettin really close to the outside of your house, skipping beside Leon holding hands. Life was like a dream.

But the long day out had Leon pretty tired— he had to drag a lot of your stuff around and you insisted they go to multiple stores (you tried to be nice and let him pick something out but he was too tired and grumpy, I know right such a dick head?)

When you were about to arrive home, he looked at you as you skipped around excitedly and smiled softly. Despite what he’s put through, he can’t deny that he finds your behavior adorable.

He squeezed your hand and chuckled a little before you guys got in front of your door.

"Oo Leon tomorrow we should watch rainbow rocks, then you'll understand what I'm talking about better" you say giggling as you step into your house, taking off your little boots and walking away from Leon plopping your ass on the leather sofa, even if you were like if you gave a six year old crack mixed with sour gummy worms even you could get kinda tired. Right, ain't that surprising? Little princess bitch face getting tired, after crawling over Leon like a little kid and skipping everywhere, runnin, jumping, god doing everything known to fucken man kind

“don’t know if we’ll have the time because of..” Leon muttered under his breath, he didn’t want to upset you and ruin your mood when you’re so excited.

He walked over to the couch and sat beside you silently and just observed you as you started talking about the movie. He placed a hand over your thigh, brushing up and down just silently smiling hearing you decribe your weird ass fictional horse people argue with other creatures from mythology, honestly sometimes he wondered if you needed to be checked into a mental hospital. Little grippy sock princess

“Wellll, maybe we can watch it tomorrow..” He shrugged. “I mean, i’ll do anything you want” Leon chuckled looking over at you.

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, his body was pretty warm given how hot the day was and his arm was pretty comfortable.

He kissed you forehead before wrapping his other arm around you, squeezing you a little. You loved when he was affectionate, but not in a creepy way, a cute way. But after a long day a girl can get a bit needy, like sue me but when you have a hot ass man cradling you and taking you everywhere, GOD it's like an angel is sent from heaven to fuck you. But fuck you in a good homemade porno way, not one of thoes shitty ones with a whole plotline. Just straight raw fucking

You turn around, breaking his grip on you before climbing onto his lap, placing yourself onto his thigh "Woah Woah, calm down- y'know I'm tire-" he was trying to speak, silly men. You land a big fat kiss on his lips to shut him up, slowly moving yourself on his thigh, pulling away from him getting a breath, saliva dripping down your face like an animal, staring at him in the eyes, his face slightly shocked you made the first move. But you felt something perk up, bingo. Always know what can make your man want ya

"God I can't just stare at your handsome face and do nothing-" you mutter under your breath, pushing yourself closer into him, kissing his face like a big ol' dog, your free hand finding its way to his jean zipper, undoing it his fat dick springing up, he grabs you by your hips, pulling your panties aside, slapping you onto his cock, a groan coming from his lips, honestly didn't expect the day to end like this, went from talkin ponies to getting your brains fucked out. Like a good girl you ride him, his hands are placed on your hips moving you at a decent pase, bit fast but he did do A LOT of work today, guess he deserves it. Nothing else in the world matters right now, euphoric feeling, he thrusted up into you, taking one hand off your hip and grabbing your face, making you look at him, god his eyes make you MELT. He could take care of you, he was real nice with it. He groped your tits sometimes in public, but just made you love him more.

You're at your high, he knows that. Few more thrusts and you whine, feeling your body melt like butter, your weight collapses onto him, but he's not done practically druling on him, limp body he keeps fucken like a doll, if you still have a tight pussy thats all that matters, few moments and he finishes, pressing you down onto him, filling your cervix, still collapsed on him both of you breathen all heavy. "So babydoll, what happened next?" He groaned, a sly ass smirk on his face. "Mm that cunt rainbow got put in her place and they play fluttershys song" you mutter, pushing on his fat chest, rollin off him like a little kid, pussy dripping. His pants stained with you, and a heavy chest.

"I wanna-"

"No"

"Pleaseee"

[romancingstars]

DRUNKEN MONOLOGUES

And you’re draped on him, whilst you’re staring at me.

remus lupin x reader

part 1 of drunken monologues

warnings : alcohol consumption (not as much as first suggested) , infatuation at first sight (remus lupin is so pretty , he takes care of u , hlp me

yet again another repost, hope you guys enjoy it just as much as the first time round ! all these r kinda shit sooo

title’s stolen from : no.1 party anthem by the arctic monkeys and come closer by miles kane

“Moony!” Sirius shouted, walking over to the lanky man. You were clinging onto Sirius’s arm, giggling over whatever joke he had just told about the Sex Pistols. Something about Malcolm McLaren probably. “I’ve found my dream lover! Knows The Clash and Pistols. Even, Public Image I mean, come on it’s the way to my heart.” he stated, gesturing to you. Dragging your eyes away from Sirius, you peered up at Remus and your jaw went slack. He was your type to the tee. Tall, thin, soft brown locks and full lips. The scars only made him look even better. His everything was completely and utterly perfect in your not so humble opinion.

“Happy for you Pads.” Remus said, rolling his eyes. Then, he looked down at you and the worst happened - he caught you staring. Your open mouth, which you were practically drooling from, was a slight give away that Sirius was no longer your top priority. Only a slight giveaway. “Oh, shit.” he muttered under his breath.

“Oi! What’re you staring at him like that for? You didn’t look at me like that.” Sirius whined, looking down at you.

“I like your music taste, and your hair. You’re fit. But, him? He’s fucking gorgeous.” you replied, pointing over at Remus. The very little vodka you had consumed must’ve gone to your head because you never would’ve said that in a normal state. However, you didn’t remove your arm from Sirius’s. Mostly for balance, which was a little selfish, but desperate times. Remus cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to avoid Sirius’s gaze of pure disbelief.

“Not to be rude Remus or anything, but you seriously think he’s better looking than me? I know he’s fit, but I’m me.” the black haired boy argue, flicking his eyes between the two of you.

“You’re both good looking, he’s just more to my taste. Look at him, he’s so pretty. But, in a different way to you. See you’re all tidy and your hair is in better condition than mine. He’s so.. oh I just want to bite him. What’s his name again?” you rambled, never taking your own eyes from Remus. The taller man was trying desperately hard not to laugh at Sirius’s complete shock, which was an almost impossible task.

“Fine then, go hang off of his arm.” Sirius said, holding you out towards him. You immediately stumbled towards Remus, by your own choice.

“Gladly. Hiiiiii.” you cooed, using his shoulders for balance. “I’m really quite tired and— Oh. Shit. Think I need some air.” you added, holding onto Remus’s bicep for dear life. Your knees had buckled and the brown haired man barely caught you. However, his hands did reach your waist to keep you stood up straight.

“Think you need something more than air. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Remus replied, chuckling lightly at the way you were peering up at him. “Think you hurt Sirius’s feelings.” he added, continuing on the conversation as he sat you down outside of the house.

“Reckon he’ll get over it, he had a swarm of fans following him around. Got me absolutely pissed though. Not on purpose, I was just trying to keep up with him.” you said, rubbing your temples. Your speech was fine, but your legs were a little wobbly. Everything just felt slow. You realised you weren’t that pissed at all, just nervous in Remus’s presence.

“Yeah, he tends to have that affect on people. What’s your name again?” he said, quoting you to you. He smirked down at you. It was a little comforting to know he was genuinely paying attention to you.

You mumbled your name to him and tried desperately hard not to imagine yourself wrapped up in Remus’s arms. Or tucked away asleep in his bed, kissing him or dancing with him in your living room. With alcohol still flowing in your system, you decided now was the perfect time to make another move. “Meant what I said about you before, by the way. You are- indescribable.” you stated, staring up at him once again.

“Yeah? Glad you think so, you’re also drunk.” he replied, sitting down beside you. His face flushed slightly and you saw, but decided that commenting on it might scare him off.

“Mmmhm, maybe you should give me your number and, and your home address. Then, the next time you’re free so I can show you the prettiest book shop. I’m just assuming you like books, you seem like the smart type. By that I mean you dress like and old man, don’t get me wrong I’m into it, but you do.” you rambled, eyes following him as he moved beside you.

“Really? I’ll give you my number and I do like books. Good assumption?” he chuckled and his hair flopped in front of his eyes. You wanted to eat him, which is an odd statement really, but it was the truth.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you,” you pointed to him as you spoke. “walk me” you continued, pointing at yourself “home.”. Your hand moved into the direction you thought home was and then it struck you. You didn’t have the slightest clue where you were.

“Oh? Right, you’re going to let me walk you to your home?” he taunted, trying desperately hard not to laugh. Disappointed, you frowned at him. “Sorry, ‘course I’ll walk you home, love.” he added, guilt spreading across his chest at the sight of your frown. You smiled; he smiled.

“Okay, so. My friends, kind of, dragged me here. And I don’t know where I am, or how to get home. So what if you walked me to your home? you offered, grinning over to him sheepishly. You felt a little guilty, dropping that on Remus all at once. But, you’d leap at the chance to spend anymore time with this man. Wanting to get to know him inside and out, you were desperate to continue talking to him.

“This you making a move on me?” he said, smirking once again. “You can come back to mine, by the way. Might as well go now, can’t see this party getting any better.” he added, standing up. Offering out his hand to help you stand, Remus gave you a half smile and you were sure you could’ve died in that moment. Taking his hand, you stumbled into his chest. ‘Typical’ you thought to yourself as you frowned at the cliche of the situation.

“Sorry. I want cookies, do you have cookies at yours?” you said, gripping his hand tightly as you walked. He smirked down at you, laughing slightly. Remus couldn’t quite believe his luck. Not only were you absolutely breathtaking, you were also quite infatuated with Remus. The situation ensuing was one he was sure he could get very used to.

The walk back to Remus’s apartment was filled with conversations of interests: music, books, films and hobbies. Hand in hand, the two of you discovered you had a lot more in common than expected. Even despite your contrasting opinions on certain topics. (Cough star wars cough). Remus fumbled slightly with the key before unlocking the door to his apartment holding it open so you could walk in.

“It smells of you.” you stated, looking around at the warm hues which flooded the room. You moved into the lounge; you thought it was the cosiest room you’d ever seen. It screamed Remus. One couch and an arm chair, different pieces of furniture picked up from the side of the street and charity shops. Small coffee tables, shelves and a TV tucked into the corner all built up the atmosphere.

“Funnily enough, it’s where I live.” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone. His hand gently pressed against the small of your back, ushering you out of the living room’s doorway. He gently gripped your waist as he moved past you and into the kitchen. “Tea, coffee or hot chocolate?” he offered, looking over the breakfast bar at you. Currently, you were glazing your fingers across the spines of books stored on a shelf in the lounge.

“Hot chocolate please.” you mumbled in response, picking out ‘The picture of Dorian Gray’. “This is a bit beaten up.” you commented, giggling lightly as you flipped it over in your hands.

“Dorian’s had a lot of love, what can I say.” he said, smiling over at you as he pulled the mugs down from the cupboard. Then, he filled and began boiling the kettle - a very mundane task. You quickly put the book back and began admiring the rest of his collection. Carefully, you read the blurbs of books you didn’t recognise You tried to ignore the feeling of Remus’s you following you. Truthfully, he was admiring you and wondering how Sirius of all people had been the reason you met. You didn’t seem like the type for Sirius at all, which sort of explains why you were in his apartment now. He needed to ask you out and soon, Remus told himself. Maybe it was all in the wrong order, but he didn’t care. He was in fact just as desperate to get to know you as you were for him.