#but nothing ever leaves a permanent mark
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danothan · 2 years ago
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handcanoning based on some frames/panels… this bastard is never going to die in my brain huh
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no-one-hears-me · 1 year ago
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I miss all my old friends and it's sad to think that they probably don't feel the same way
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pukicho · 5 months ago
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What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?
Pukicho story time???
This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:
It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.
I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.
I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.
Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.
It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.
At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.
Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.
At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.
The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.
No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.
End!!
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ervotica · 1 year ago
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please don’t go, i love you so
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pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader
warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey
note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!
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Coriolanus is possessive.
It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.
It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.
It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.
He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.
There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.
You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.
“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”
His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.
“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.
He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.
“Nothing. I have you.”
“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”
He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.
“Coryo,” you pant.
“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.
“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.
You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.
“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”
The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.
“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”
“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”
“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.
“Wanna show me just where you belong?”
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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 5 months ago
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His Name | Soulmate!AU
~1.1k words
Jason Todd. That's the name that etched itself on your thigh the night of your sixteen birthday. Which is great, you have a soulmate. The issue is that you know– knew a Jason Todd. He happens to be six feet under the dirt in a graveyard you visit every Saturday. Which is not so great.
Being soul bound to a dead person gets you a lot of pitying glances from the people you know. You tell them there's more than one Jason Todd in the world. It makes your family shake their heads. You try not to dwell on the heartbreak on their faces when you tell them that, when they think you can't see it. They saw you and Jason together when he was alive. There won't be another Jason Todd in your life.
It's something you've slowly come to terms with, when no other Jason Todd finds their way to you, the idea of never seeing your name permanently marked on someone else's skin. The fact that you might never really have the person that's supposed to be yours.
That's why you might have reacted kind of poorly when Red Hood brings you up to a quiet rooftop, tugging off his leather jacket in front of you, dragging the material of his suit up and over his forearm to reveal your name on his skin.
You weren't even doing anything dangerous to get here, just at the wrong store at the wrong time, while some third-rate rouge went on and on about conquering the city. Standard Gotham experience.
What wasn't normal was Red Hood crashing through a window, brutal and efficient with every movement until each person with a gun was knocked out and beaten on the floor. Sure, you were aware he wasn't exactly a crime lord anymore, labeled a 'turned vigilante' by the press, but press also said he doesn't tend to leave crime alley. And you definitely weren't in crime alley. None of news stories of him saving people exactly calms the adrenaline coursing through you when he picks you up like it was the easiest thing in the world for him, hoisting you like you're made of glass over his shoulder and grappling you both to a nearby roof. You're alone before you even have time to process it.
You stumble back when he gently, so gently it makes your heart stutter, sets you on the ground. "Who do you think you are? You can't just grab people–" your biting words cut off as you register the black lettering across his skin. Your name. Your name is there. On Red Hoods arm.
You reach out to touch it before you can stop yourself, fingers trailing down his forearm and over each letter of your name. He lets you, not speaking words, only sighing in what sounds like relief. You force your gaze from the mark you could stare at forever to meet the glowing eyes of his mask. "You're- Jason Todd?"
He nods, every nerve of his body completely locked on you. It doesn't clear anything up. He can't be Jason Todd, at least, not the one you buried.
You make a face and step back, crossing your arms, "Yeah right."
He seems to blank, arm still held out, showing your name permanently engraved on his skin. "Yeah, right?" He echos, deep and robotic through the modulator of his mask.
You set your jaw and nod.
He tilts his head, lifting his arm higher to make you see the mark. To see your name. "Do you think I faked it?"
That makes you falter. Why would he? There's nothing to gain by pretending to be your soulmate. "Well, no. But you still could have the wrong person."
He exhales a laugh, breathes out your name with more fondess than you've ever heard. "Always so stubborn."
Your frown. Sure, maybe you could be stubborn but he doesn't know that.
He says your name again, reaching up to tug his hood back, reaching for his mask.
It makes you freeze, eyes going wide in shock when you make out his face. Jason. Your Jason. "How–" You start, but can't quite manage to finish, eyes darting over the face that's so familiar, only older, more tired, more scarred. But his eyes are still the same. Intent and focused and bright when everything around him is dark.
"It's a long story." He says softly, before starting to ramble, nervous to upset you, to lose any chance of knowing you again. Any unease you felt around Red Hood fades as you recognize the boy you grew up with in him. "Maybe I could tell you? Over coffee? I have safe house nearby. But, only if you're comfortable. Or we could meet during the day, if thats better?"
His voice sounds more familiar without mask, and you study him, almost accusing. "You didn't have to kidnap me to tell me you're alive. Or that you're my soulmate, you know."
He stumbles over your words, taking half a step closer to you. "I didn't! I mean, I wasn't trying to. I swear– I just couldn't take all of this off down there." He gestures to the mask, a little frantic to gain your approval.
It brings a small smile to your face, and he stops still at the sight of it, breath catching in his throat as you speak, "I'm glad you're here, Jason."
"I'm glad you're safe." He exhales out, eyes softening and tension draining from his muscles in relief.
You can't quite fight the urge to reach out for him, so you do, taking his hand and gently flipping it over so you can read your name again. You have questions, absolutely. Gripes. Proably a lecture that he should have come seen you sooner. But you settle on how right this feels in your bones, how your soul feels like its missing piece slotted into place. "Do you have creamer?"
"Creamer?" He asks, voice airy and memorized by the feel of your skin against his hand.
"For the coffee?" You prompt, smiling a little wider at his dazed expression, his eyes following your hand, like he can't believe you haven't run screaming for the hills.
"Yeah. Course. Anything you want." And when he focuses back in your face, you know in the very essence of what you are that he means it.
"Coffees a good start." You say, a little fond as you pull away your hand away, and he reluctantly lets your fingers slide from his.
"Coffee it is." And it is a good start. To know your other half again, to follow the warm, soothing feeling in your soul when you touch him, you'll try as many starts as it takes.
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butterymangowrites · 7 months ago
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permanent fix
soulmate au + a/b/o
paring: alpha atsumu x fem beta reader
warnings: bullying, dub-con, atsumu is not nice, smut, slight breeding kink, biting, blood, choking, mirror sex, possessiveness, jealousy, alpha rut, atsumu talks shit, dramatic atsumu
word count: 2.2k
english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes
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Born as a beta, you never thought fate would toy with you by giving an alpha as your soulmate. Especially not one like Miya Atsumu, the one whom you went to school through college with and still having to see his face ever so frequently as if he had sworn to never let you live in peace. 
For someone who made faces when seeing the lunchboxes your mom packed for you and proclaimed a beta was weak when you first presented at fifteen, Miya Atsumu couldn’t seem to detach himself from you. 
So when you had a crush on one of your colleagues at twenty five, having his nose in your business as usual, Atsumu knew instantly. 
“Another beta.” Lying comfortably on your couch, Atsumu scoffed. “Predictable.” 
“Didn’t ask for your opinions.” 
“I’m giving it anyway,” he said in a singsong voice, but his face was without mirth. “You can fuck whoever you want, but I’m getting my fix. That’s non-negotiable.”
Oh, yeah. His fix. 
He patted his lap. “Come here.”
Then it all began again. Him cradling you in his lap, hands going all over, lips spilling hateful words. 
‘Weak fucking beta.’ He would say. ‘Even Osamu got an omega soulmate. Makes me jealous as fuck.’ 
But then he would kiss you like the world might end tomorrow, doing everything opposite of what he said. This time was no different. His hot tongue was everywhere he could reach, acquainted itself with yours before leaving a wet trail down your neck. 
You protested when he nipped a little too hard, scared he might leave marks. He did that once. The deep purple hickey you saw in the mirror after he left your apartment scared the shit out of you. A little more force and teeth could have broken the skin, and that thought caused chills to run all over your body. You didn’t want to bear his marks. 
Yet, Atsumu didn’t care. He never did. His hands were now on your buttocks, squeezing hard through your thin pajama bottoms. He moved you to one of his thighs for better concentration. The hands on your butt now rolled your hips back and forth, to the point your moan finally slipped out of your tightly zipped lips and you forgot about the harsh nibbling on your neck.
“Go whore yourself out,” Atsumu whispered. “Like I fucking care.”
Same here, asshole.
You thought, didn’t say out loud. 
Touching each other lifted the heavy weight in the heart caused by the act of not accepting the soulmate bond. Nothing more, nothing less. If not for this calling of intimacy both of you obliged to feel, he wouldn’t be here. You knew that. He said it way too many times. 
Still, your cheeks were licked, your lips were tasted, neck wet with saliva. You felt like a prey about to be eaten every time he was close. Yes, he may not care. But he sure was possessive enough of things that were given to him. 
Whenever you tried to wiggle out of his firm grasp, he tightened his fist. This time was the hardest you ever felt. 
In more than twenty years of knowing each other, never once did Atsumu come to you when he had gone into rut. So when he called you two in the morning one week after his last fix, ordered you to pack a bag and tell your boss you would be on leave for a week, you were baffled. It was never more than kisses and touches with him. Your clothes were always intact and on. The idea of that being changed had you flat out saying no. 
That didn’t stop Atsumu from coming to get you one hour later though. When he saw that you did nothing to get ready, his jaw was clenched. A split second later, he packed your bag himself, shoving clothes and toiletries in without any care. You were still in pajamas when the passenger door was slammed closed and he hit the gas. 
There were reasons why betas are not for alphas. Physically, they were incompatible. Betas weren’t designed for alpha’s stamina, not to mention one in rut. At one point, you did not care to count anymore how many times you had blacked out. Fading in and out really fucked with your memory. All you remembered was the non-stop pounding, Atsumu’s breath against your face, and his uncharacteristic cooing, praising you as his good girl. 
“Knew you were built for me.” The blond menace pulled on both of your wrists, never stopped his thrusting. “Let me knot you again, okay?” When you shook your head, face wet with tears, Atsumu shushed you softly. “Shhhhh. You can do it, I know you can.”
And you could. But it was not without pain. 
“Shouldn’t have waited this long,” Atsumu said close to your lips. “You almost got away.” 
He talked too much. But it would have been a big fat lie to deny that his words didn’t turn you on. That his vile confession didn’t affect you.
“Bold of you to even think I would let someone else touch you.” He sounded out of breath, closing to his end. “All the effort goes to waste. No no no no.” 
You felt it coming, just seconds before. Then your whole body was taken by the waves of thrills and your whole vision turned white. Atsumu was not your first, but as if he was the harbinger of agony, it hurt when he first penetrated, hurt when he knotted. And when you felt a sharp sting at your sensitive neck, you knew he defied the rule of nature once again by marking you. 
Fruitless. That was what it would be. Betas were not made for alphas. Mating bites did not forge any bond with the wrong person and would fade over time. But Atsumu had always been stubborn. One bite turned into two, three, then countless. All you felt was pain and the wetness of blood before darkness took your consciousness like the many rounds before. 
The mating bites faded within two weeks, all except the first mark, proving to you that even biology could not win over destiny. Same went with all other beta-alpha soulmate couples out there after you had done some research. They were rare, but they were there. You shouldn’t have let Atsumu bite you. Should have known better that things could get weird when it came to soulmates. Now, he wouldn’t get off your ass, had the audacity to move his things to your apartment and yours to his, calling you his girlfriend in front of everyone and expecting to see you at his games. 
You didn’t even like volleyball to begin with. And as you watched his magnificent tosses to any players he deemed to have high chances to score, you thought of a way to get out of his clutch. 
He needed an omega, the correct designation he always longed for. Because even with all the protective caresses and the promise to never let you go, Atsumu was still mean. Like going back to the ninth grade when you put makeup on for the first time and he gave you the nastiest comment that made you go wash everything off in the school toilet, his words still stung badly when he chose to weaponize them. 
‘Samu’s mate smells like she needs to be bred.’ He said that nonchalantly one day at Onigiri Miya, sitting side by side with you at the counter where his twin and his mate helped each other with cooking and serving the hungry athletes who were there to celebrate the day’s victory ‘Don’t know how he stands that. So sweet’ 
Hearing that made your conversation with Hinata pause. His steely gaze was the first thing you saw when turning to face ‘your boyfriend’. 
It didn’t end there. For days Atsumu was in a devilish mood, his jabs that you knew most of them were meant to just rile you up for fun had become a real emotional harm. He still fucked you, make no mistake about that. And it was as devilish as his temper. 
‘Too hard, Miya. Too hard.’ You still wouldn’t call him by his first name. 
Veiny hands wrapped snugly around your neck, Atsumu only went faster after hearing that. The bathroom mirror was foggy with hot steam from the shower, but you could see enough. One of your legs was perched on the counter, allowing the view of his cock pistoning in and out of you, your breasts bouncing fast. 
‘Would have been pregnant already if you were an omega.’ The sentence came out coated with his accent, thicker than normal, like he didn’t have full control of how he spoke. ‘But that’s alright. I can take my time with you. We’ll get there,’ he purred. ‘Still, what a shame, huh?’ 
Shame his ass for saying that and not letting you leave. ‘Go fuck an omega then.’
He smirked. Pissed you off. ‘Nah.’ 
As his toss to Sakusa scored a winning point, the loud cheer brought you back to the present. You saw Atsumu eyes staring up at you from the court below and knew what you had to do. 
Getting an omega who wanted to spend a heat with Miya Atsumu was easy enough. Sending her up to your apartment where he was already there waiting for you was as simple. You drove away then, not far, stopping at your favorite 24-hour cafe because you needed somewhere to sit and waited for the first feedback from the omega girl. Half an hour later, you got a call. 
The screen showed the female omega’s name. You picked up and said hello, expecting to hear that everything went well and that you could go find somewhere else to sleep for the next five nights.
But you only heard cries. Not of pleasure, just a full-blown crying with hiccups. 
“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, frowning. “Talk to me. What happened?” 
“He—he screamed—at me,” she spluttered, almost incoherently, “and only asked where you were.” 
You cursed quietly, finally able to stop stirring the poor coffee you ordered without any interest in taking a sip. “Where is he now?” 
“I don’t know,” she cried. “He left—after the screaming.” Her voice wavered all the more when she kept on trying to speak. “You had to see him. He looked murderous. There was not even a hello. He straight up shouted at me, accusing me of breaking in. When I tried to explain—mentioned you, his face was all red.” A hiccup interrupted the long babbling. “He said he was married to you and showed me the ring.”
You were not sure what crack Atsumu was on, but there was definitely no ring or marriage. 
The call was still on when you heard the cafe’s door pushed open. And it was as if you saw the devil with your own naked eyes.
Atsumu walked in. 
His strides declared no peace or mercy when he saw you, ignoring the greetings from the two night shift baristas. 
Not wanting to cause a scene, you stood up, didn’t say anything when he put his hand on your shoulder and led the way out. 
The drive was silent. Your car was left at the parking lot near the cafe, you would have to come and get it as soon as you could before the parking fee turned as murderous as him. When asked where he was going, he answered solemnly, “My place. Yours stinks.” 
You just knew it was going to be a long night. 
Atsumu was the one who got the car out for you the next morning since he was the one who could still walk without wobbling. The sheets you slept on were rumpled. They reeked of cum. 
You reeked of cum. 
‘You think you’re so funny?’ he asked, knowing you couldn’t answer with his cock occupying your mouth but did it nonetheless ‘You wanted me to fuck her? What was going on in that pretty little head?’ 
He pulled you by the nape of your neck before pushing your head down, forcing your throat to take more of him till you felt the urge to gag. 
‘I thought we had an understanding, baby,’ he said, finally relenting his grip on your head. ‘No whoring yourself out.’ Then he stressed, ‘And no whoring me out. I’m yours.’
‘Do you understand?’ 
You only nodded.
‘Words.’ 
‘Yes, Miya.’ 
‘Atsumu,’ he said, looking like he wanted to throw up. ‘You’re not fucking my brother. Don’t make me imagine that. Call me Atsumu.’
‘Yes, Tsumu.’ 
Looked like you delivered. Atsumu grinned from ear to ear. ‘Good girl. My best girl.’ 
That was last night. 
A warm kiss to the cheek woke you again, must have dozed off after Atsumu left, but those scenes were not a dream. You heard him whisper, 
“I got your car. Parked it at your place.”
He looked like he got a ten-hour sleep while you could not move a limb without feeling sore. Not fair. And the way he looked so good in sheep’s clothing, his wolf’s skin all hidden. Not fair at all.
“Shower.” Your voice was hoarse, but you got the message through. That was good enough. 
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d-z20 · 4 days ago
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Hers and Hers Alone
Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader
Summary: Agatha Harkness’s possessive nature burns brighter than ever when she claims you, not just with her words but with her magic. In the charged intimacy of her study, the line between dominance and devotion blurs, leaving no doubt that you belong entirely to her.
-OR-
She marks you with a magic tattoo cause you're oblivious to people flirting with you
Warnings: Possessive Agatha, reader is an idiot when it comes to flirting, magical marking, jealousy/obsession, claiming trope, slight angst, kind of dark romance is implied (at least their relationship is in my head), some dom/sub dynamics, reader gets called a good girl
Words: 1.9k
A/N: FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU :P I errrr had carried this fic into the smut but then realised the request didn't ask for it so I guess what happened will just stay in my head :))
AO3 | Masterlist
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Agatha Harkness always gets what she wants.
That’s the first thing you learnt when you fell into her orbit—her sharp eyes, her wicked smirk, the way her presence alone felt like it could strip you bare. It wasn’t just her power that made her dangerous; it was her confidence, the knowledge that she could claim you with nothing more than a look. And claim you, she did.
Tonight, that claim becomes permanent.
It starts earlier in the evening, though you’re far too oblivious to notice. Another witch—a newcomer to your coven—has been lingering a little too close, her compliments flowing like honey, her hand brushing yours just a bit too often. You think nothing of it, laughing at her jokes and responding with your usual warmth, but Agatha sees it all. She sits across the room, her wine glass in hand, her gaze locked on you with an intensity that sends lesser witches scattering. It’s subtle at first—the narrowing of her eyes, the slight tilt of her head—but as the other witch leans in and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, Agatha’s smile falters, replaced by something far sharper.
Jen sidles up beside her, an amused glint in her eye as she tracks Agatha’s gaze. “You’re going to set the room on fire if you keep glaring like that,” she says dryly.
“Perhaps,” Agatha mutters, her tone deceptively smooth. “But how could anyone blame me?" Her gaze flicks briefly to Jen before settling back on you.
Jen’s laughter is soft, a knowing sound that holds no pity. “She’s not doing anything. It’s you who sees it as a challenge.”
“A challenge easily won,” Agatha snaps, her irritation slipping through. Still, she doesn’t move. Not yet. She knows you too well to make a scene in public. No, this required precision.
The air buzzes with conversation, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that dance across the stone walls and when you finally turn toward her, your face brightens at the sight of her. You weave through everybody, the scent of burning herbs mingling with the faint tang of red wine, excusing yourself with a polite smile and a brief touch of hands that only fuel Agatha’s determination. By the time you reach her, she has composed herself into a picture of calm.
“You’re being antisocial again,” you tease lightly, tilting your head to study her. “Should I be worried?”
“Hardly,” she replies smoothly, though her voice dips into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “Although perhaps you should.”
You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
Agatha steps closer, her fingers brushing your wrist lightly. The contact sparks against your skin, her magic coiling beneath the surface. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of her presence settle over you like a velvet cloak.
“You’ve been quite generous with your attention tonight,” she says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your heart skip. “Perhaps too generous.”
Your brows furrowed. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous?” She laughs low and dangerous. “No, darling. Jealousy is for those who doubt their place. I know exactly where I stand. Do you?”
Her words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, and then Agatha’s fingers trail up your arm, her touch deliberate and slow, leaving behind a faint, smouldering heat. The air between you thickens, charged with her magic and something even more primal. Her breath brushes your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t understand yet,” she whispers, her tone laced with a dark promise. “But you will.”
“Come with me,” she commands, making your pulse race.
Agatha doesn’t speak as she pulls you down the hallway, her grip firm but not painful, though there’s no mistaking the fire in her movements. You trail after her, a little breathless from trying to keep up, still half-confused about what’s gotten into her. It’s not until she shoves open the door to her study and drags you inside that she finally stops, turning to face you. The door clicks shut behind you with a wave of her hand, the air in the room thickening, charged with something electric and unrelenting.
“Agatha—” you start, but her sharp look cuts you off.
“Do you enjoy parading yourself like that?” she asks, her voice deceptively soft as she steps closer. “Letting them think they have the right to touch what’s mine?” The words cut like a knife, her tone equal parts petal and thorn, daring you to challenge her claim.
Her words sting, but there’s a flicker of defiance in your chest. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong, yet the weight of her gaze makes you second-guess yourself. “What? She was just being nice."
“Nice.” Agatha repeats, a dark chuckle escaping her lips as she closes the distance between you. “That wasn’t ‘nice,’ darling. She was flirting. And you…" Agatha pauses, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—not doubt, exactly, but something close. Vulnerability that is quickly buried under her usual sharpness. “You’re far too sweet to see it.”
You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat as her thumb brushes your bottom lip, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter. “You’re mine,” she says softly, almost like a warning, her eyes darkening as she leans in. “You can laugh and smile at the others all you want,” she continues, her voice like silk laced with steel. “But they’ll never know you the way I do. They’ll never touch you like this.”
Your breath hitches; your body already betraying you as heat pools in your stomach. Agatha’s hands move to your shoulders, steady and deliberate as she turns you around to face the desk. You feel the press of her body against your back, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in. “Don’t move,” she murmurs, the command dripping with authority.
You stand still, barely daring to breathe, though your mind races. The weight of her gaze, the heat of her power, wraps around you like an unrelenting grip. A thrill courses through your chest—half fear, half longing—as you realise what she’s about to do. This is more than a claim; it’s a declaration, a tether, and deep down, you’re not sure if you’d ever want to break free.
 Agatha brushes her fingers down the column of your throat and across your collarbone before stopping over your chest. Her touch is gentle, but the power swirling from her is anything but. 
“Right here,” she murmurs, her voice a dark velvet caress. Her fingers brush over your chest, leaving a tingling trail of magic in their wake. “This is where my claim belongs—above your heart, so no one ever forgets who it beats for.”
A surge of violet magic blooms from her palm, tendrils of shimmering light twisting and curling as they seep into your skin. It’s not just energy—it’s alive, sparking and crackling like a storm contained within your chest. Heat rushes through you, both foreign and familiar, as if her power is carving itself into your very being.
You gasp, your body arching instinctively as Agatha mumbles soft incantations under her breath. When she pulls her hand away, your heart is racing, and you feel it—a faint, lingering hum where her magic settled.
“Look,” she instructs, her voice soft yet commanding. 
There, etched into your skin in delicate, curling lines of violet, are Agatha’s initials. It’s an ancient and commanding mark, pulsing faintly with magic. You feel it thrum in time with your heartbeat, as though Agatha herself has left a piece of her soul imprinted onto you. 
You blink, lips parted in surprise, but before you can speak, Agatha’s fingers ghost over the mark. The second she touches it, a wave of pleasure rushes through you, leaving you trembling as a choked gasp escapes your throat.
“Sensitive, isn’t it?” She murmurs, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe now you’ll remember who owns you.”
You shiver under her touch, the magic from the mark sparking with every deliberate brush of her fingers. She leans in close, her voice a low purr against your ear. “And if you ever let anyone get that close again, I’ll make sure you cannot walk for days, darling. Do you understand?”
You swallow hard, nodding wordlessly, and Agatha hums approvingly. “Good girl.”
Agatha’s approval drips like honey into your veins, the warmth of her magic lingering just beneath your skin. Your body betrays you completely—breath shaky, pulse fluttering, and heat pooling low in your stomach. Every brush of her fingers near the freshly marked skin pulls a soft gasp from your lips, and you can feel her smile against your ear.
“Sensitive already,” she husks with dark amusement, the words sending a fresh shiver down your spine. Her fingertips ghost over the mark again, just enough to make your knees buckle, and you clutch at the edge of the desk for support. “Such a pretty reaction. I could play with you like this for hours, you know. Watch you squirm. Hear you beg.”
"Agatha,” you breathe, her name tumbling from your lips in a desperate mix of frustration and longing.
She tsks softly, her free hand trailing down your side, gripping your hip firmly enough to hold you in place. “Do you feel it yet?” she asks softly, tilting your chin up to force your gaze on her. “The way you need me now?” Her voice drops lower, the teasing edge softening into something deeper, more possessive. “That mark isn’t just to ward off wandering hands, love. It’s a tether. A reminder of exactly who you belong to.”
You can only nod, unable to find your voice as the thrum of magic beneath your skin grows more insistent. The mark feels alive—Agatha’s initials pulsing faintly, like they’re echoing your own heartbeat. The sensation deepens when she leans closer, her lips just grazing the sensitive skin below your jaw, and you let out a shaky whimper before you can stop yourself.
“That’s it,” Agatha whispers against your neck, her breath sending another ripple of arousal through you. Her lips curl into a smirk as she presses a kiss there, followed by a deliberate flick of her tongue. “You’re already so desperate. My mark is working beautifully.”
Her hand trails down the front of your body, teasing but never quite satisfying the ache that’s grown unbearable. “I could make you cum just by touching it,” she continues, her voice like velvet as she strokes a single finger lightly over the mark once more. The pleasure spikes instantly—so sharp and overwhelming that your head falls back with a gasp, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt for relief.
Agatha pulls back just enough to watch the way you tremble, utterly at her mercy. “Tell me, darling. Do you understand now? Do you know who you belong to?”
“Yes,” you manage, the word escaping in a breathless, desperate whisper.
Her smirk widens. “Say it.”
“You, Agatha,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “I belong to you.”
“Good girl,” she hums, her voice softer now, almost tender. Her fingers trace the edge of the mark, drawing a shuddering breath from your lips. “You wear it beautifully,” she murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss just above the sigil. Her magic lingers there, warm and possessive, as she cups your cheek with a rare gentleness. “Mine,” she whispers again, more for herself than you.
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I just need to take a moment to appreciate the way Kathryn looks at the camera in the gif used at the start... the woman is staring into my soul and ughhhh the piercingssssss 😩😩😩
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Taglist: @danveration @aceday @alwaysharmony
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aouiaa · 3 months ago
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So, I was wonder if maybe u could write something about a very fluffy, touchy and messy make out/sex session with abby!!! Like, she just needs you closer and closer but she's so tender with it and sooo in love with reader. Pretty please and thanks <3
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𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 : sexual intercourse between the same sex, softdom!abby, sub!reader, praising, reverse cowgirl, scissoring, spanking.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : first off, i just wanna apologize for disappearing. i know, i know. tumblr hasn’t been the same since i left but i’m back now!
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the sight before abby was gorgeous, captivating even. your sweet moans and the way you clenched around nothing as you repeat a singular motion fueled by a need for your anticipated release. It was hypnotic, beckoning her closer.
in a sudden burst of desire, abby's right hand came down with a harsh slap, making you jolt and let out a drawn-out moan. you look back, gaze met hers, and she was utterly bewitched, her eyes heavy with lust. she pressed you down further, helping you grind against her. blunt nails digging into your skin, gripping tightly, and for a moment, you wished they would leave a mark, anything to remind you of this moment.
you call for her, a plea for more, and she responded with a guttural groan.
"i know, baby—fuuck, look at you.” she half chuckled, amazed by the sight in front of her. her breathing growing irregular as her hand reached back to tug at her disheveled braid, the action a testament to her own arousal. "fuck," she let out, her gasps ragged. it wasn't enough, she couldn't let it be. despite being closer to you than anyone had ever been, it wasn't close enough.
suddenly, she halted all movement, beckoning you to straddle her waist, her leg lifted and resting firmly over your shoulder. a smile tugged at her lips, "oh—god, yeah.” she swallowed thickly, curses escaping her as she pushed herself into the pillow. her large hands held your waist, guiding you with a gentle touch, helping you find the perfect rhythm.
it wasn't long before abby felt the familiar, tingling sensation, the harbinger of her release. with her hand at the nape of your neck, chest to chest, skin to skin, she pulled you down into a searing kiss, her lips hungry and desperate. it was a tangible expression of what she had been holding back, unable to vocalize.
her movements didn't leave you in the dark for long either. another sharp slap landed on your ass, followed by a grip that felt like a vice. erratic and needy, she met your movements. filthy, guttural moans echoed through the room as she broke the kiss to press her forehead against yours, her eyes holding you captive.
"abby.” you called out, your voice thick.
"tell—tell me you love me.” she pleaded, gasping for air.
"i love you.” you confirmed, her name on your lips as her movements grew even more frenzied.
"again.” she demanded, her need apparent.
"i love you—ah, fuck!” you breathed, your breaths quickening.
"again!" she insisted.
but the urgency in her voice was met by your own orgasm, a powerful wave that crashed over you. you slumped against her, limp and spent, as she helped you through the euphoria.
amidst of recollecting yourself, you finally share your awaited request, "i love you, abby."
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requests are open, don’t be shy :3
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PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru, @drunkonnatasha, @leosw0rld, @visupremacysstuff
REQUESTED TAGS, @picklesarenice69, @lesbian-useless, @graviewaviee
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cosycafune · 5 months ago
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LEMME BREED YOU, PRINCESS!
0.6k words. your boyfriend is a shit one, but that really doesn’t matter when you’re bouncing on Toji’s cock — ruining your sanity. sure, sneaking around is risky, but toji’s divine cock is enough for you to almost ruin your future.
acts: unprotected sex, creampies, infidelity, degradation, doubt, breeding kink, size difference, slight age gap and slight sadistic tendencies.
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SEATED, guilt and enthralment adorn you. Nothing prepared you for this sacred moment, tinted with the art of intimacy, infidelity and lust. Tendrils of confusion smother you, but you can’t bring yourself to release Toji right now. 
Grinding against an older Toji, you momentarily forget about your shortcomings – shedding every thought of your estranged boyfriend.
Unrestrained, you continue to rut your hips against Toji’s erection – stomaching the closest feeling to love you’ve ever carried. Liberation almost tints you, but it’s tainted, distorted – settling you in a morally grey area.
Naturally, you felt like you had to succumb to your boyfriend’s shortcomings – enduring the colourful, negative emotions he painted on you. Engaging with Toji, taking every inch of his cock, being talked through it, coddled and eerily cared for, rewired you. Leaving, you know you should do that, but your boyfriend suffocated you – strangling you with his status and power imbalance.
Yet, Toji carries status, emotional stability, money and a huge dick. A huge dick you could never resist, sneaking away to meet with him – coming back home with hickeys, bite marks and symbols of satisfaction. To you, it was thrilling – a diligent way of getting back at your cheating boyfriend. Everything within you wanted to leave him, but he would suppress you – mentioning his cherishable reputation with your family.
All you wanted was for Toji to mould into your charming prince, sculpting an atmosphere that would permanently provide peace. However, you’re pitifully bound here – stealing away pleasurable moments that pale in the long run. Even as you grind against his cock, nude, filled with Toji’s cum, you can’t help but ask for more. As a princess, is this truly what your life has come to? Sleeping with your father’s favourite millionaire?
“You’re thinking, darlin’,” Breaking your internal silence, Toji gruffly speaks – relishing your soppy, cum-filled folds kissing his cock head.
“I mean, we only have half an hour,” Chuckling, you respond to Toji – frantically kissing his lips. Looking down at him, you smoothly deflect – unbounded. 
“Stop deflecting,” Lightening up, Toji murmurs through his grunt –  harshly sinking you onto his cock.
“It’s… just, why won’t you beat him up or do some dramatic gesture to convince my family?” Avoiding Toji’s intimidating gaze, you speak, “You know that he… treats me like shit.” Blabbering, you look away — only for Toji to grip your chin.
“Because it’s not him that has your pretty self sinking his cock,” Grinning, Toji breathily grunts — captured by your warm cunt squeezing him.
“Hmm, don’t tell your boyfriend,” Taunting you, Toji frantically bucks his hips into you — pushing you into moaning extremely loudly.
“Shit! I won’t! Ahh!” Pounded into, revoking your willpower to think, you shakily grip onto Toji — bellowing.
“He’s never fucked you this good, has he?” Observing you, Toji gently moans — his question almost hazy.
“Ngh! Never!” Barely clutching onto your self-esteem, you prettily feed into Toji’s inquiries — demolishing his fat, enormous cock.
“Shit! If I…put a baby in you, he’ll leave,” Threatening your future, Toji thrusts deeper within you — grinning at you cock-stricken.
“Hmm! Baby!” Mewling, you tremble vigorously — practically agreeing for Toji to expand you with as many babies he wants.
“A pretty… princess like you, pregnant?” Enthralled, Toji snaps his toned hips harder — barely able to voice his thoughts through pleasure.
“I’d do…anything for you to be swollen with my baby,” So close to cumming, Toji hums with satisfaction — burying himself so, so deeply within you.
“T-Toji,” Moaning his name, you accidentally cum before him — embarrassed at how quickly he could dismantle you.
“I’ll fill you up and give you a baby,” Determined to impregnate you, Toji snaps his hips intensely — his pulsating cock finally twitching before filling a foolish you up.
“Mhmm, I’ll have… your baby,” Whining, you desperately proclaim — almost collapsing as Toji kisses your lips.
“Hmm, but don’t tell your boyfriend,” Teasing you, Toji gifts you a gentle kiss — before smacking your ass.
Don’t tell your boyfriend.
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do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3
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divinesolas · 5 months ago
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The hour of the wolf
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summary: You make an offer for an old friend. You offer up anything to make sure his life is spared. What the wolf wants shocks you more than anything.
Cregan Stark x Beesbury!Reader
w.c: 3k
c.w: SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD; the hour of the wolf, mutual pining, soft? cregan, SMUT !, oral (male and fem), minor fingering (fem), face sitting, dirty talk, lord kink, hairy cregan, p in v, minor bearded cregan, breeding kink, minorly proofread
a.n: literally just a reimagining of the black aly and cregan scene from the books, i hate that fact that they rlly might cut black aly from the show let me kms.
perm cregan taglist (open!)
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The room is far too hot. The glares of the men in the room far too intense. Words unspoken louder than anything. You had been sitting in this room for hours now, the arguing the anger seemingly never ending. You understand him. A stark never does forget his oaths that much has become very clear to you.
The fur covered man turns his back to the group after some harsh words leave his lips. You decide enough is enough and turn to the other men in the room. “Leave us.” Oscar and benjicot give each other nervous looks before turning back to you. “y/n…” You place a hand on Oscar's shoulder and squeeze it, “I have this, trust me.” He hesitates for a few moments before he nods and with the help of benjicot clears out the council room leaving you alone with the wolf of the north.
His back is still turned to you, staring at the window with a glare in his eyes. “My lord-” “I have done all that you all have asked. I have agreed to not storm on the green castles, i have given my men, i have been merciful to those who should have been marked to death i will not relent on this.” He had finally begun to face you, his face angry. You can see the stress of the last days weighting down on his face, a noticeable stubble from not being able to shave, bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted and you felt awful
Corlys Velaryon. once a man who you would have considered a good friend turned turncloak. The new king had pardoned his crimes along with the rest of you except for cregan, so stuck in his justice it will not stop until he has his head. Thought he had pardoned corlys, when you had went to the king to see to cregan being stopped, not wishing to fight one of the only men he trusted he did nothing to fight the northern leaving you all to try to persuade him yourselves.
You understood his anger. Having vowed himself to the queen and the late prince and both now dead due to the greens. “i’m afraid i cannot relent on this as well my lord.” You knew corlys did what he had to. maybe you would have not done the same in his place but it did not matter to you. Cregan huffs, pushing off the table he was leaning on to walk past you. “then there is nothing for us to speak of.”
You do not try to grab him as he walks past as much as you wish to. you only knew the lord stark for a year now but he had become a good friend to you and you like to think you were one to him as well. it took him awhile to open up to you, the northern not interested in speaking to most and was flat out rude to most but you persevered and was rewarded by earning the favor of the stark, leading him to seek out your council.
You felt more for the stark. More that was beyond friendship. you were a minor lady from minor house, the war and the growing tensions and battles with the hightowers leaving you even worse for wares and he was probably the most powerful man in the realm right now as well as a recent widow. He would want nothing to do with you if it were not for you insistence and you’re sure after this is all said and done if he does not agree to be the kings hand permanently this will be the last time you ever hear from the man.
Yet you are desperate. you so badly don’t want him to do this. corlys’ life more valuable than many realize. “what can i offer you?”
You voice cracks as you speak, whipping around to see his retreating form paused at your words but he does not turn around. you take a deep breath as you take the steps towards him. every step you take he steps back. “grant me this one thing and i shall never ask another thing from you ever again. If you do i shall have sonnets and songs written of you, tales of your great strength and wisdom. Grant this one wish and i will do anything you desire.”
His back hits the wall and he pears down at you with a tilted head as you stand firmly in front of him. not closely enough to be touching but close enough you can smell him, woodsmoke musk of his skin. He’s quiet but the look in his eyes shows Hes thinking about your words. You begin to grow a bit nervous when a light smile creeps up on his face. “I shall grant you your wish.”
“and what in return?”
“you.”
You stumble back while cregan remains rooted where he is, watching you with delight. “you misspeak.” “i do not.” you shake your head furiously. he cannot truly mean that as much as your skin crawls and your heart pounds you cannot accept his words. “If you are looking for a wife i am more than happy to help you find one.” “i am not looking for a wife. i want you.”
You pace around the room, tugging at the collar of your black and yellow dress. The room suddenly having grown hot and you dress uncomfortable. “There are many lovely ladies,” “im sure there are,” “The war has left many without a husband as awful as it is to speak. i would be more than happy help set you up with a couple meetings with them.” “is one of them with you? i will attend that one.”
You turn to him and almost wish you could curse at him and his pleased face. “my lord please.” his face drops and he grabs your hand tugging you into him. His hand softly coming to your face, the obvious look of affection in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “a hand for a head. give me your hand and i will do as you say. i will do as you say for the rest of my life.”
You take a couple deep breaths in disbelief, he wanted you. “A hand for a head. i will give you as you ask.” He leans in closer to you, you almost feel as though he is going to kiss you and you close your eyes in anticipation but he pauses right as your lips are about to touch and you hear him chuckle lightly. “You want me as well.” It is not a question but despite that you nod and his lips are pressed against yours. You can feel him hum and smile against your lips. He is an animal, hungerly eating at your lips like he is a starved man, as if he had been waiting for this for far too long.
You try your best to meet him all the same but he completely consumes you and you can do nothing but submit to him. When you pull apart you both stare at one another with lust in your eyes. So when you lightly step back he stares at your curiously until you sink down onto your knees and his breathing stops. “What do you think you’re doing?” You trace your hands along his thighs as you peer up at him. “doing my best to please you my lord.” he groans in delight and licks his lips. “will you allow me to my lord.” “if you do not put me in your mouth right now i will push you down and fuck you on the floor like a whore.” You wish his words did not affect you like they did, you can feel how soaked you are, you might as well be dripping onto your feet.
He allows you to grab at his pants and watches as you pull them down exposing them fully. He is huge. How in the hells were you even going to put this thing in your mouth? You can see the hair that trails up towards his stomach, the veins that line up and down him pulse with need while he lightly drips out some precum. As if driven by pure lust you reach out and lick at the drops that spill out of him, sucking around his tip to see if you can get anymore. You must be doing something right because he groans at your actions, grabbing the back of your head as you continue to push him further into your mouth. “fuck you feel so fucking good.” You whine lightly at his praise as begin to rub yourself onto the heel of your foot. When you moan around him he pushes you greedily further into him. “you feeling good too? such a greedy girl.”
You have no real clue what you’re doing but cregan helps you every step of the way, and when you put him fully in your mouth, your nose is buried in his hair. His hand on the back of your head pulling you closer and further until you get a good rhythm yourself and he lets you do as you please. “so fucking good for me fuck.” You can tell he’s close to cracking, his grip on your head grows tighter and his panting gets heavier, his words of praise turn into slurs of mumbles of nothing. He tries to pull you off not wanting to overwhelm you, “its too much.” But you keep firm and hes flowing into your mouth, you almost choke but pull yourself off of him and swallow down his salty seed.
You almost look up at him to try and see what his reaction was but you instead yelp as you’re pulled up and thrown over his shoulder. “what are you doing?!” he pulls up his pants and readjusts himself before he walks out of the room with you still over his shoulder. people stare as you walk past but nobody dares to question the hand so they all continue about their business. you even see oscar on your way who shoots you a bewildered look but you just throw your hands up in confusion and embarrassment.
You realize he is taking you to his room. He shuts the door with his foot and tosses you onto the bed. He strips himself of his furs and clothes where he’s standing bare in front of you. He truly was a man and you gulped. Greedily admiring his hairy body as he strode towards you with the utmost confidence. “If you do not want this you will tell.” You nod, “With your words.” You shiver, “yes..” hes pleased but gives you a look. “yes,,,?” you purse your lips before answering him, “yes my lord.”
He kisses you and leans on top of you until you’re laying on your back. You feel his fingers trailing up your leg and push past your underwear to push two fingers inside of you. You grip onto his shoulder and gasp as he begins to work his fingers in and out of you. “you’re dripping down my fingers, look at you pretty girl.” you shudder against him as he continues to work at you. He suddenly pulls away and you whine but he kisses your complaints away. “sit on my face.” Your brows furrow together in confusion, “what?” He chuckles, his hair tickling your face and shoulders. “just do as i say.”
Despite your confusion you nod, trusting your future husband who rolls the two of you over and you’re suddenly on top of him. He pulls every string and pushes away every piece of fabric under you sit just as bare as he is. You almost fold your arms to cover yourself but his hands grab yours as he continues to admire you with heart eyes. “you are the most beautiful lady i have ever seen.” Your face burns as you turn your head away from him. “sweet talker.” “I mean every word.”
He lays all the way back and it suddenly becomes abundantly clear what it means and you are alarmed. “You will suffocate.” He laughs and shakes his head as he continues to try and pull you up to his face. “a real man would not, trust me.” “this cannot be right.” “it will be good i promise. trust me. i want to.” Despite your doubts and worries you allow yourself to hover over his face lightly, his beard scratches at your face. you hear him sigh as he kisses your thigh, “I said sit.” He suddenly pulls you down and you’re fully sitting down on his face and he begins to lap at you.
You were not the most innocent women, having touched yourself a fair share of times but this was a completely different experience. His tongue laps at you eagerly, drinking up every drop while his hands knead your sides. You grip onto his hair as you as, your eyes closed and you throw your head back in pleasure. You keel over when his hands move you to grind on top of his face, his nose rubbing against your bud and your hips eagerly begin to move to try to get more and more friction. with every call of his name he hums and groans into you sending shockwaves down your spine.
You can do nothing to stop yourself from releasing all over his face. you mumble apologies but he simply eagerly licks up every drop before suddenly flipping you over and hovering over you. his face gleams with the shine of your essence. “ive been wanting to do that for too fucking long.” you turn away as your face heats, he turns your head back towards him and pecks you on the lips. “I hope you know i am being truthful, my words do not stem from purely desire. i love you.” Your breathe escapes you and your hands come up to cup his face, “my lord…” “cregan.” a smile plays on your face, “cregan, i have loved you since the moment i met you.” His face softens at your words, “even when i was an ass?” “especially when you were an ass.” He shakes his head in humor before he presses his lips against yours once again.
His hardness his your thigh and you moan. “i dont wish to force you.” “I want you to cregan. take me.” He wraps your legs around his hips as he aligns himself up to you, “if it hurts too much tell me.” you nod and your heart continues to pound in anticipation. It does hurt, it hurts like hell as his hard cock pushes its way past your walls, you find yourself biting his shoulder and he groans at your actions. When he bottoms out he pauses, allowing you enough time to adjust to him. Its hard to, when he is so big and you can feel every vein and the way he throbs against you. He pecks kisses around your face and down your neck to distract you, pouring his love into every peck.
“You can move.” “you sure?” it does not hurt as much anymore, sure there is a light sting but surely that will only add to the pleasure. “yes please fuck me cregan.” He lets out a noise one would only consider to be a growl, “you want me to fuck you? ill fucking fuck you.” His pace is quick but not too rough, its enough to have your toes curling with every thrust. He’s mumbling into your ear, words of praise but you can barely make sense of it as you begin to see stars. Your hands scratch down his back and he howls as you bite his shoulder. “fuck wanna see you full, with my kid.” you moan with pleasure at his words and nod your head eagerly, “yes yes yes i want that so bad please please.”
“You want my babes? for me to fuck you full and round? for you to carry my pups?” you nod eagerly against his shoulder as you begin to chant his name like its the only word you know and he calls out your name just the same. You can feel your stomach burning, “cregan im gonna im,” he shushes you as he only begins to move faster, one of his hands coming down to play with your bud. “cum fuck do it. wanna feel it.” He makes no moves to stop even as you burst around him, if anything he seems more motivated as the sounds of your skin slapping together grow louder. His thrusts your sloppy and his hips move more eagerly until you feel yourself being filled with his hot seed, pumping you full.
You two attempt to catch your breaths, you wipe his sweaty stuck hair away from his face as he grins at you. The moment suddenly ruined when loud banging hits his door and the two of you freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. “Lord stark!” you recognize the voice as one of the squires and you watch as cregans face falls with annoyance. “what?” his voice is clearly angry as he spits at the door, seemingly having no intention of pulling out of you. “one of the lord has requested an audience-” “i am not available for the rest of the day.” “but my lord-” “leave me be.”
You can sense a pause from outside the room before the footsteps suddenly begin to fade away leaving the two of you alone once more. You open your mouth to speak but he sudden pulls out and spins you over quickly shoving himself back inside of you. there will be time to talk later it seems and when a maid walks in later that evening cregan makes no attempt to explain why the room smells as it does and why the windows are foggy. but everyone knows, the lord stark is not one for quiet women.
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thesuperiorrobin · 1 year ago
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𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝~
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❥Pairing: Damian Al Ghul x Wife!Reader
❥Word count: 1.0k
❥Warning: mentions of blood but very brief, mentions of killing, mentions of kidnapping
❥S: Damian worst fear is losing his beloved wife (I wrote this in an hour. It’s 3:20 am rn☹️)
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“This is so unlike you” Damian grumbles under his breath as he lies on a bed, a green silk robe hanging off his shoulder as you tend to a deep wound on his midsection with a needle and thick thread in hand. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead. A part of you feels bad but at the same time, he decided to have you tend to all his wounds after coming home from a mission his mother or grandfather sent him on.
Some days he’ll come home with a scratch or none and other days he’ll come back with gashes and marks that’ll stay permanent on his tan skin. As the needle in your hand digs into his skin once more—it hits a nerve that has him griping your wrist tightly and hissing loudly. Despite being an assassin, despite going through every single hard training process there was, a torture process, he still feels his pain.
“I’m sorry” you watch as Damian lets out a heavy sigh, letting go of your writs and gripping a metal handle beside the bed. “Just a few more so please bear with me” Minutes had felt like hours to Damian once you finished. And with your help, he sits up straight, groaning as we do so. One last step was to wrap the now stitched-up wound with bandages. His arms are up slightly as you reach over his back with the long white strips and bring them back to his front repeating the same process a few more times.
Once done, you help with his robe, gently as ever. You pat away any dust that drapes his shoulders. There’s still anger that clouds his eyes when he looks down at you “What happened?” Your hand grazes his cheek softly before placing your cold palm up against his warm cheek.
“It’s nothing, Zawjati. Come let’s go to bed” Your heart throbs at the sudden name. His hand reaches up to your hand, the sliver hand on his finger shining brightly as you gently peel it off his face, kissing it softly before he places it back down at your side. A visible frown finds its way on your lips as he walks past you with his head down.
“It’s clearly nothing. I can see it in your eyes” It’s a mumble but Damian can hear it loud in clear. Your eyes connect for a moment before you sigh—averting your eyes away from his “Let me clean up first, I’ll head back in a bit”
Damian leaves without saying a word to you. It takes a bit longer, mostly because you take your time cleaning and sanitizing. It takes thirty minutes before you’re heading back to your shared bedroom. You expect him to be asleep after being away for so long, but he’s wide awake when you enter the room, sitting upright on the bed rob long gone and with a book in his hand waiting for you. He places it down, on the nightstand beside him.
“You should be asleep” You shake your head, making your way to your side of the king-size bed.
“I can never sleep peacefully knowing you aren’t by my side” he lifts the silk blanket from your side—waiting for you to get in the covers.
You waste zero time as you jump in, head landing on the soft pillows. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once he throws the blanket over your shoulder. He watches as you snuggle closer, eyes closing. Damian’s arm reaches for the small lamp on his nightstand. The once-dim room turns dark within an instant as he turns it off. The wound on his midsection has Damian getting under the covers carefully. The shuffling stops and the room goes quiet. Damian thinks you are fast asleep, but when he feels your fingers tracing gentle shapes on his biceps he thinks otherwise.
Goosebumps cover his body. He can’t sleep either, not because of you tracing his skin, but because his mission early has him thinking. His target threatened you, threatening to take you from his side permanently. The assassin can handle petty little threats, but when they’re about his wife, all he sees is red. His wound was just the aftermath of his outburst. They’re all dead—every single one of them.
He has nothing to worry about—so why is he still worrying about it?
How many others, how many of his enemies feel the need to target you just so they can take him and the rest of the league down?
How much more does he need to paint his hands red just to keep you safe and sound, far away from harm's way? Damian would never say it out loud, out of fear and out of his reputation, you are the most saint and innocent thing to ever happen to him in his life. Someone so innocent and pure belongs to him, someone who’s the exact opposite—someone who can paint an entire city red with his bare hands if he needed to— have you sound asleep beside him—acting like he can’t break you with just his thumb.
When he looks at you—all his worries disappear just like that. Your breathing clams him down. Why worry, when he has you safe and sound right beside him? He takes one glance at your sleeping figure beside him, so peaceful and beautiful, curled up against his arm. His other arm reaches over to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. He lets out a small breath as he watches you snuggle closer. He moves a bit, arm sneaking its way under your neck and over your shoulders, head on top of his arm using it as a pillow.
“I promise I would never let anything happen to you, beloved. Not now nor ever” A single kiss goodnight on your forehead and he closes his eyes, the darkness following soon after.
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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago
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Title: Meat.
Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).
Word count: 4.5k.
TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
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You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.
It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.
It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.
The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.
“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”
You hated it.  You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.
“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”
You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”
You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.
 “I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”
~
After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.
It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.
It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.
“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”
You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”
He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband��, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”
You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.
His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”
“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”
It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”
He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”
It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”
You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.
~
Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.
It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.
It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.
And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.
You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.
It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.
~
“Are you still with us, love?”
You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.
The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”
You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.
You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”
You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”
You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”
All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.
~
The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.
He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.
You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.
You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.
You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.
~
The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.
“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”
His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”
He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.
(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)
“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”
He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”
Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—
Blue.
Dark, never-ending blue.
“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”
You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”
You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.
~
You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.
His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.
He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.
You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.
That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.
You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment.  You plunged the blade into your stomach and—
And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.
You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.
Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.
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perrywrites · 1 year ago
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Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 1;
NSFW
Includes; Isagi, Hiori, Bachira
Part 2 (Barou, Shidou, Karasu) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 4 (Rin, Sae, Kunigami) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)
Isagi: he was nervous but eager to get it in. His hands had been trembling the entire time he touched you and stripped you, layer by layer, but now? Now he just wanted you. It’s when he’s laser focusing on you, his head heated up, blood pumping, completely out of it from the excitement of what he’s about to do to you, that your voice all of a sudden snaps him out of his reverie. “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” Can he hold your hand? Of fucking course he can. Shit, fuck, of course he can. “O-oh… yeah, yeah… I can do that,” he mumbles, fumbling for a moment, his hand quickly and clumsily reaching out to intertwine with yours, still pinning you down into the bed. His heart is still fluttering wildly from your cute request. Fuck, he feels almost embarassed somehow, for some reason, at himself, like a pervert, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to care about it too much. He wants to make you his already, be inside you, claim you, claim this adorable woman asking him to hold her hand before he enters her. He was finally going to claim you after yearning for so long. He wasn’t going to be able to let go of you now, hand or otherwise. You’re giving him your first time, letting him make you his, he felt lovesick, heart clenching painfully. He’s your first, and he will be your last. Don’t expect to get away from him now. 
Hiori: he’s already holding it, wdym hold your hand? No, because this man, despite it being his own first time as well, remained slow and gentle throughout. He whispered words of love to you, a handful of precious promises, his lips ghosting and trailing across your skin with so much care. Hands lingering and caressing your body so tenderly, like you were the most precious thing in the world - and you are, you are the most important thing to him. Nothing, and I mean nothing, means more to him. So, of course, without even you having to ask, he would slip his hand into your hand, a warm lover’s lock, as he prepares himself to enter you. He is romantic, face flushed and eyes dazed. He can’t wait to be inside of you. God, it’s so sweet how beautiful and soft you look beneath him, all red and sensitive like that, all for him and only him. He’s yours and you’re his, and nothing can change that. You don’t understand how much you mean to him. You’re his sanctuary. His heart is yours now, permanently - or rather it had been yours since a long while ago. Don’t leave him. Since you’ve let him in now, it’s okay if he doesn’t leave, right? Because he’s not going to leave you, and he’s not going to let you leave either. Ever. 
Bachira: he couldn’t wait to be inside of you, oh god. His lips all over, he keeps on kissing you, eager, so eager, his hands are all over your body, squeezing and feeling you up, moans and groans pouring through his mouth inbetween kisses at. You feel so good, oh god, your skin was soft, so soft, so doughy. His lips vacant your trembling mouth, returning to your neck filled up with marks as he sucks another one into your bruised skin, never enough, god, he needs more of you, so much more. His hands grab your thighs and spread your legs open as he whimpers. “Inside… I need to be inside you so bad.” and he pauses at the sound of your shaky voice. You want him to hold your hand? Request granted. Immediately, he holds himself up with an elbow by your head, his other hand sliding across to intertwine with yours, and he’s peppering kisses across your cheek as he mumbles almost incoherently about cute you are. So adorable. Too adorable. You were letting him take your first time, just like that, huh? He was so happy, pinning you beneath him like this, his hand holding your trembling hand down as your dewy eyes quivered, shy. He was so happy you were his girlfriend, that you were letting him have you like this. After all, as he had decided a long time ago when he first fell in love with you, he was going to make you his bride, come hell or heaven. No other man would ever, ever get a taste of you. You were his, and only his. 
Who should I do for part 2? >:3c
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skipper19 · 1 year ago
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Imagine this..
Alpha!Keigo, who always made sure his mate was well taken care of. There was never anything that you would ever need or want because you already have it, so there's no need to long for it any longer. Keigo keeps his feathers hidden around the house, and a not so hidden one wrapped around your neck as a courting gift. These feathers will always let him know when his little omega is in need of something.
Alpha!Keigo put that specific feather on a necklace because it was the very last courting gift he provided to you before he asked you to be his mate, officially. Not that it was necessary. Keigo always made sure it was obvious to the people around you both that you belonged to him, bond mark or not. Not to mention the stench of nothing but Takami Keigo wafting off of you most times. Which was totally not intentional.
Alpha!Keigo was so twisted with his own emotions the first time another Alpha approached you. One one hand, Keigo knew you were his loyal omega, and you would politely reject the other Alpha, but on the other hand, Keigo wanted nothing more than to hold you so close that his scent was permanently marked into you. He wanted to growl and prowl at the other Alpha, maybe even show off your bond mark that he so happily gave to you when your relationship became official. Thank God Keigo had a reputation as the number two hero to upkeep because if he didn't, he may have actually taken the second option.
Alpha!Keigo became so flustered and nervous on the inside that the media found out about his omega mate. No one would leave you alone. Either it be asking questions about you during an interview or trying to take a picture of you as you walk down the street. Keigo hated when the reporters would spot you on the street when he wasn't there. You always come home smelling of anxiety and nervousness. Keigo, the adoring Alpha that he is, always made sure to calm your nerves on these occasions. Fortunately, you grew accustomed to the press after some time, and you easily avoided them.
Alpha!Keigo notices a rather large bruise on your arm one day, and after further investigation, he discovered it to be a hand mark. Keigo persuaded you (made you cum until you were a crying, blubbering, mess) until you finally revealed that a reporter had spotted you on the road today. You were walking home from work. The male reporter thought it would be a good idea to corner you so he could ask questions. You, rightfully so, attempted to just walk away like you always do. But this guy, alpha no less, grabbed your arm so you couldn't leave. Keigo was seeing red.
Alpha!Keigo calms down enough after a few hours. He lulls you to sleep and watches you dream away so peacefully before he pulls out his phone and makes a call.
Alpha!Keigo doesn't hesitate to let you build a nest in his office. None of his coworkers nor workers are allowed in his office after you do. Of course, they can come close to the door and knock, but they are forbidden from entering. Even when Keigo/you isn't there, they still are not allowed in his office. Your nest is too precious to even be seen by anyone else. Keigo teared up when you said you wanted to build a nest in his office and his room at his house. You trusted him enough to do that. He could only hold you close, wrapped up in his beautiful red wings, as he praises you and thanks you.
Alpha!Keigo, who hates it when you switch your shampoo. You always claim that you never cared for what shampoo you grabbed, as long as it wasn't conditioner, but he hated that you switched it up every time. Your scent just changed too much, and nothing ever smelt special for you, specifically. Finally, the night you both first made passionate love to one another for the first time. Keigos' back was lined with burning passion. His shoulders were tense, sweat dripping from his forhead, his wings jerking and relaxing every few seconds, not to mention you. Your body laid out beneath him, sweat lining your beautiful skin, hair sticking to the bed and your own face, hickies and dark bite marks scattered along your upper chest and neck, it was all perfect. What made it even more perfect was the smell that Keigo couldn't get enough of. After he had emptied his balls into you, he just laid on your chest. But Keigo didn't expect to smell the sweetest, most drooling scent he had ever smelt, pouring from your scent glands. Nothing covering or blocking you from openly releasing this scent if yours.Round two immediately started after that.
Alpha!Keigo protects you and loves you with everything he is. Man, hero, son (hopefully a daddy bird soon), you took it all when you stole his heart. Keigo would gladly put down his life for his omega, and he would put down someone else's life for you, too. Though he would say that allowed, he knows you're more sensitive about gore and killing than he is. But he doesn't care. As long as you stick by his side no matter what, he knows he will stick by yours.
And don't get be started on Alpha!Keigo becoming a father after impregnating his little omega.
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spiicii · 1 month ago
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the usos / guard dogs (part one)
x fem!reader  word count → 2.1k summary → you’re their girl and they make sure the world knows it. when you’re accosted in the parking lot by a group of men with bad intentions, your guard dogs are more than happy to rip them apart.  notes → this fic is kind of dark. inspired by the vibe the usos had in their match against the mysterios at the money in the bank kickoff.  links → masterlist / guard dogs (part two) currently a WIP tags → suggestive content, possessive behavior, hickies, threats of danger and SA from bad men, violence, some mentions of blood and gore, the twins are devoted to you
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You’d sat at the bar with the twins all night, allowing them to buy you drinks and whisper dirty words in your ear. It was a game the three of you often played: the two of them pretending to compete for your attention, their hands roaming your body in the dim lighting of the bar, all cocky smiles and flirty words. You’d make them work for it, more than happy to get them riled up just so both of them could fuck you stupid when the three of you got back to your shared apartment. 
Tonight hadn’t been any different. Jimmy’s leg had been pressed against yours, his smile wide, looking at you like the cat who’d caught the canary. Meanwhile, Jey’s hand had moved from the back of the barstool to your hip, his hand far lower than would be considered decent. The game was afoot, but you could sense that something was off, your skin prickling with a discomfort you couldn’t quite place. 
Your instincts were never wrong. You eventually realized that you were being stared down by the man at the end of the bar, his gaze unashamed as he raked across your skimpy outfit, your exposed neck, your low-cut top. When your eyes met his you saw him smirk - a disgusting, ugly thing beneath a greasy moustache. You quickly looked away, returning your attention back to the twins, hoping that the message was clear: Leave me alone. 
It was rare for any man to be so bold in their interest of you. The twins hardly ever left your side, their body language making it clear that you belonged to them. Even if their body language wasn’t enough, you knew it was obvious with the matching hickies you had on either side of your neck, the bruises practically permanent. The twins made sure to worry their teeth into the marks whenever they began to fade, guaranteeing that everyone knew you were claimed. Owned. 
You’d get plenty of lecherous stares, curious glances, maybe even a few comments from the ladies on how lucky you were, but nothing more. No man in his right mind would try to approach you, not with two towering Samoans on either arm. Usually all it took was one curl of the lip, fresh grill glinting, for them to get the message. 
You’d been relieved when the man staring at you finally left. You knew if the twins had noticed him there would have been a fight, especially if they saw how uncomfortable you were. They were incapable of leaving well enough alone, too possessive of you for their own good. 
It wasn’t that late, but you knew the boys had an early call at work in the morning. Besides, the evening had already taken the turn you wanted. You’d seen the look the twins had exchanged, already fed up with your bratty attitude and ready to take you home to put you in your place - exactly like you’d wanted. 
With Jimmy gone to the bathroom and Jey’s back turned while he paid the bill, it was a rare moment to yourself without one of them beside you. You didn’t think much about it when you stepped out of the building, keys in hand to warm up the car.
As you walked across the parking lot, you noticed the man immediately, his tall form leaned against the hood of the Mustang as you approached. Your eyes widened in recognition, your heart leaping into your throat. It was the same man from the bar, the one who had been ogling you all night. What was he doing here? How had he known which car was yours? You immediately froze, your car keys curled in between your fingers. 
“Finally! Been waiting for a while, pretty girl.” His voice was oily, his expression far too smug for your liking as he pushed himself off the hood of the car to face you. 
You watched him carefully, keeping the grip tight on your keys. “What do you want?” 
The man laughed and the sound was ugly. “What do I want? Boys, isn’t she cute? Acting like she don’t know a real man when she sees one.” 
You realized with horror that the man wasn’t alone, three other men stepping from out of the shadows to flank him on either side. They all looked at you with hungry expressions, proverbial wolves arrived to feast. Your blood went cold, instinctively taking a step back at the sight. The man raised an eyebrow, that hideous smirk still on his lips. 
“Where are your little boy toys? Not here to protect you I see.” 
Your jaw tightened, anger now taking a front seat to your fear. “They’re inside. So unless you want to get your ass beat, I suggest you leave.” 
All four men laughed, two of them already beginning to take a few steps in your direction. 
“Leave?” The man seemed amused at the idea. “But my friends just got here.” 
His eyes narrowed at you and your stomach dropped at the sight. “Figured you’d enjoy this. After all, you take both of your boyfriends at the same time, don’t you honey?” 
You felt like cold water had been dumped down your back, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You took another step backwards and one of the man’s friends moved even closer, his eyes gleaming maliciously. If you ran now, you knew they would chase you. Would you be able to make it back inside before they caught you? 
“You’re on my car, uce.” 
You’d never been so relieved to hear Jimmy’s voice in your life. You whipped around and saw that the twins had finally emerged from the bar, their eyes narrowed as they assessed the situation. Jey was quickly by your side, placing a large hand against your cheek. 
“You alright, baby?” He asked, pulling you close to his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair. You didn’t have any words for him, but you were able to nod, tears filling your eyes in relief and gratitude at their timely arrival. 
“Pretty girl you got there.” The man said, his face still arrogant as he watched the twins approach. “Thought we’d take her for a spin. I’m sure you don’t mind.” 
Jey dropped his hand from your cheek, his jaw tightening with anger as he met the man’s amused expression. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked entirely too pleased with this turn of events, a wide smile already forming on his lips. 
“Oh, you tryin’ to get fucked up.” Jimmy laughed, though the sound was cold. “That’s why you out here, huh?” 
Once he was sure you were alright, Jey released you, stepping forward to place his body between you and the others. His eyes were dark, simmering with a rage you hadn’t seen in a long time, and your heart stuttered at the sight. There was no going back now. 
“Come on, boys. What’s wrong with sharing? I’m sure your girl would like it. She looks like she would.” 
Something feral glinted in Jimmy’s dark eyes. “You doin’ me a favor, uce.” Jimmy’s tone was far too calm. “Been waitin’ for a smug son of a bitch like you to cross my path.” 
Jey curled his lip menacingly, golden teeth flashing in the dim light. He stood beside his brother, his eyes unblinking as he surveyed the scene in front of him. His fingers were flexing at his sides, the same way they did before a match when he was itching to fight. Itching to harm. 
“That’s cute,” The man replied, sounding bored. “But you’re outnumbered. Sure you don’t want to just leave her with us and go? I promise we’ll take good care of her.” 
Jimmy laughed again, now bordering on something maniacal, his grin positively wolfish. Jey, on the other hand, didn’t look so pleased, his gaze promising blood and violence. 
You watched with wide eyes as the twins began to circle the group of men, their movements eerily similar to a predator stalking their prey. The men finally seemed to realize their predicament, a few of them skittering nervously around the car as they watched the twins approach. 
You couldn’t remember who moved first, but it didn’t matter. The lead man had stepped back and allowed his friends to attack first, two of them on Jimmy and one of them on Jey. It wasn’t much of a fight. 
Jey was quick to grab his opponent by the neck and slam them into the hood of the car, his movements fluid and clean. You watched as the man crumpled to the ground, now unmoving. Jey sneered at him, landing a particularly vicious kick to the ribs for good measure. 
While Jimmy was outnumbered, it was clear he wasn’t worried. He laughed as he fought, the sound rabid as his fist collided with one man’s face. Blood spurted from his nose at the impact and you watched as Jimmy continued to laugh, licking the blood off his knuckles with his tongue. Jey was quick to come to his brother’s aid, grabbing the other man and kneeing him in the ribs hard enough to break them and watching with satisfaction as he fell to the ground. 
“Oh, come on,” Jimmy complained, wiping the remainder of the blood on his shirt. “That all you got? I was hopin’ for a challenge.” 
The man who had started all of this no longer had a smirk on his face, his eyes wide as he stared at his fallen friends. It was clear this was not how he expected this evening to go. He quickly raised his hands, as if to surrender. “Wait, wait, a minute. It was just a joke, fellas. Just a joke. That’s all.” 
Jimmy’s eyes were wild. “Oh, a joke?” He turned to his brother. “You hear that, uce? It was just a joke. We must have missed that part, huh?” 
Jey didn’t answer, already too far gone to speak. His gaze at the man was positively bloodthirsty, his teeth bared like an animal. 
You watched as the twins moved forward together, their movements perfectly in sync as they grabbed the man at the same time, one fist colliding with his jaw while the other struck him in the ribs. Jimmy grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground, sharp teeth flashing as he laughed. 
When both of them began their assault, Jimmy landing brutal kicks to the midsection and Jey landing punch after punch to the man’s face, you felt your stomach flip in fear. Would they kill this man? 
You felt frozen in place, searching for a magic word to make it all stop that you knew didn’t exist. You didn’t dare interfere, the scene before you an uncanny resemblance to wolves taking down their prey and feasting as a pack. You could only watch as the twins continued to bludgeon the man, blood staining the cold concrete of the parking lot. 
A part of you wanted to feel some kind of pity for the man. He had picked the wrong fight, unknowingly provoked two men who gave beatings for a living and was now about to pay the ultimate price. He couldn’t have known how deep their devotion to you ran. He couldn't have known how much they would enjoy this. He couldn't have known how utterly possessive they were of you. 
Despite all of this, you couldn’t find it inside yourself to care. You knew what they would have done to you had the twins not intervened. Although you felt nauseous as you heard the sickening crunch of bone beneath their knuckles, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He was getting what he deserved. 
You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the twins eventually stopped, both of them breathing hard as they surveyed the man beneath them. You couldn’t decide if you were relieved or disappointed to see that the man was still breathing, but you decided it didn’t matter. 
When the twins arrived back at your side, their bloody hands were on you instantly, their eyes wide as they searched your face for your reaction. For your approval. 
They’d returned to you as if you had called them back, their master that can make them heel with the snap of your fingers. They’d ripped those men apart for you and returned for their reward, knuckles bloody and eyes hopeful as they met yours. 
The Usos weren’t what you would call submissive, but seeing them before you now, Jimmy pressing sweet kisses to your forehead, Jey nuzzling at the side of your neck, you realized that they were protective the same way a guard dog is protective. Submissive the same way a guard dog is submissive. They would only heel for you, the only one who could hold their leash. And they would kill anyone who got too close to their master. 
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semischarmed · 8 months ago
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River
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River was a walking enigma. 
Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.
When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.
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During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him. 
My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.
The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly. 
River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-
“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.
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He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness. 
I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark. 
As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night. 
That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.
= = = = 
“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.
Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.
I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out. 
The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.
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Then came the day before the big presentation.
“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.
= = = =
“You can set your stuff down there”.
It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment. 
A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements. 
“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”
He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water. 
“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs. 
And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile. 
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“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk. 
It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite. 
My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.
Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval. 
I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet. 
The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.
A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.
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I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped. 
I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.
“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.
“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness. 
My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.
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My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school. 
A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”
I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.
Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists. 
“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.
He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!” 
The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.
I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own. 
I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”
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I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”
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I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River. 
I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.
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I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.
“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind. 
“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me. 
River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?
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