#but this one was too long already and so it will remain as is

[punkshort]

The Farmer's Daughter

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Forced to sell your body after your father's farm went under, you find yourself hand picked to service the Roman army on their latest battle away from Rome. What you didn't expect was to be selected to share General Acacius's room for the duration of the journey.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), heavy talks of prostitution, mentions of SA but none occur, reader is a (new) prostitute, virginity loss (no blood mentioned just some discomfort), descriptions of battle wounds/blood, food and alcohol consumption, one bed trope, enemies to lovers-ish, unprotected piv sex, thigh riding, angst, possessiveness

WC: 10.2K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I know by this point his character is mostly referred to as Acacius in the film but I'm sorry, I can't wrap my head around someone moaning that name in bed. So let's just ignore that, okay?

How did this happen? Why did fate play you such a cruel and twisted hand?

When you were younger, you expected to be married off to be a housewife to a solider. From what you heard growing up, it wasn't a terrible life. The men were gone most of the time which allowed the women to run the household and raise children in peace. Unfortunately, your mother died during childbirth and your father, a humble farmer, passed away too early in life, leaving you and his few workers to keep the farm operating for as long as possible. To make money, you spent much of your time at the market, selling the food you made on the farm and the goods you weaved and molded from the scraps.

It wasn't enough. You lost the farm after a handful of years and you were on the brink of becoming destitute. Already you were malnourished and dehydrated, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't find work.

That was how you found yourself in a long line of women, standing silently with your heads bowed and your hands clasped as you were all throughly inspected by a senior officer of the Roman army. They were choosing their group of whores to hire to accompany the men on their next battle across the sea. You were left with no other option but to sell your only remaining asset. The thought turned your stomach, but the idea of starving to death was worse.

One by one, women were hand picked to step forward and exit the room. All in all it had to have been close to forty whores hired to service an entire army.

The odds were not in your favor if you were picked.

It came as a relief when you ended up not getting chosen. You breathed a deep sigh and lifted your chin, scanning the room of remaining women and senior ranking soldiers. You would make do somehow. At least you wouldn't be spreading your legs multiple times a night for different men after they've spent the day fighting and working up their appetite.

You turned to follow the women back out onto the streets of Rome, no doubt searching for another way to sell their bodies, when you heard a deep, familiar voice call your name. You froze in disbelief, wondering who could possibly know you, and then you slowly turned.

It was General Acacius. The fearless leader of the Roman army, but you knew him from your stand in the market. Whenever he was home from battle, he always found you and purchased more than he could possibly need, feeding you and your farmhands for weeks. He never said much and neither did you, but you had grown fond of seeing his greying curls and dark, smoldering eyes approach your stall, albeit with a new wound or scar to show for his travels.

You did not even realize he knew your name.

His eyes drifted up and down your worn tunic, noticing the stains and rips and your poor fitting sandals. Your gaze flickered nervously around the room at the other men impatiently looking to wrap up their work and begin their long journey, but remained silent, deferring to the general.

"You will come with us," was all he said, his voice booming in the small room. Your blood ran cold and panic seized your throat.

"But the choices have already been made-"

"I am paying. I believe I am allowed to decide how many whores we bring along."

You clamped your mouth shut, brows furrowing in anger. How foolish you were to assume he was a man of honor, a man who wanted to help you when he bought your meager wares in the market. As it turned out, he was no better than any other, only out to seek pleasure between your legs.

At that point, you knew better than to argue. Your fate was sealed. Begrudgingly, you forced yourself to follow after the other chosen women, walking past the high ranking officials who sized you up as you went.

The army was to travel by ship. Or multiple ships, to be exact. The women were counted off and told to stand in smaller groups, one handful of whores for each ship of hungry soldiers. When your group was assigned, you heard that familiar powerful voice come out of nowhere once again, stopping everybody in their paths.

"She is to travel on mine," General Acacius announced. A few men exchanged confused glances and Acacius grew irritated. "That one," he clarified, pointing directly at you. The other men quickly nodded and shuffled you into another group, and you thought that would be the end of it, but then he spoke again as the others began to board.

"She will stay in my chambers."

If the soldiers were surprised, they hid it well, but you didn't. You whipped around and glared at him defiantly, a litany of disrespectful curses on the tip of your tongue. Thankfully, you remembered your place and who you were speaking to and caught yourself before you got killed, but as you turned to board the ship, you noticed an amused smirk play across the general's lips.

A young solider shoved you into the general's quarters, ordering you to not go through his things or they would cut off your hands, then slammed the door shut, leaving you all alone. The rest of the women had gone below deck, most likely to a shared room that was filthy and freezing cold. You, on the other hand, had a beautiful soft bed and a roaring fire to warm yourself by a small wooden dining table. There was a bookshelf tucked into the corner and your fingers itched to pull the books out and examine them, but you didn't dare. Instead, you sat on the small cushioned bench next to the only porthole in the room, tucking your knees against your chest protectively while you waited for the inevitable.

Sleep took hold of you at some point while you waited for the general to retire. The last thing you remembered was the open sea and the glorious golden sun beginning to dip just below the horizon. When you awoke, it was dark, the only light in the room coming from the fire. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and unfurled yourself from your bench to look around, then nearly yelped when you found the general quietly sitting at the table pouring himself wine.

Your heart raced violently in your chest, knowing full well what he expected of you. And despite offering yourself up earlier that day as a whore, you had decided you would not do it for this man. Because this man came to your booth in the market under the guise of kindness that turned out to be a lie, and it simply did not sit right with you.

"I will not lie with you willingly," you announced boldly with your arms crossed. The general quirked an eyebrow and took a long sip of his wine.

"When was the last time you have eaten?"

You scowled, body vibrating with energy and ready for a fight only to be met with indifference.

"I am not hungry."

"You will eat or you will die," he said, avoiding your eye and standing to collect a plate of food by the door. He dropped it onto the table and pointed angrily at it. "Eat."

"Why?"

"You need your strength, you are frail."

"You do not like your whores thin, then?" you shot back. Acacius clenched his jaw, eyes still cast down. "You wish to fatten me up so you have something to hold onto when you force my legs apart?"

"That is enough!" he roared, fiery eyes finally finding yours and pinning you with an intense stare that had you trembling. "I will not be forcing you to do anything except eat. Now sit down, do not test my patience."

It was a combination of fear and hunger that made you obey, sinking down into the chair opposite his where the plate of lukewarm food awaited you. Acacius sat down and picked up his goblet, watching you from over the rim as you slowly began to pick at the food. You both remained silent while you ate and he drank, the only sound to be heard was the crackling from the fire and the distant laughter and yells from his men in the galley below.

He was right. You hadn't eaten in days. It was no wonder you fell asleep so quickly earlier. You wanted to express your thanks, but you were too stubborn. Instead, you finished your food and put the plate in the basin of water by the door before looking around the room once again. It was easily the nicest room on the ship. You had to imagine most of the soldiers would be sleeping in hammocks stacked on top of one another down below, but the general had the biggest, softest looking bed you had ever seen in your life.

But there was only one.

He watched you from his place at the table, studying your face as you worked out the mechanics.

"I will not force myself upon you if we share the bed," he said, dragging your attention back to him. He was still in his armor, all shiny and clean from the public celebration that took place prior to the army's departure.

"Why am I here, if not to pleasure you?" you asked. You sounded calmer than before but you were still very much on edge.

"You believe I would find pleasure in forcing myself upon a woman?" he questioned before draining his cup. You thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"Perhaps. Yes."

He stared down at his empty chalice, your heinous opinion of him rolling around in his head and making his chest ache.

"Well, I do not," he proclaimed, standing up quickly and causing his chair to almost topple backwards. He began to unhook his heavy armor, dropping it into a pile on the floor until he was down to his tunic.

"If we were to lie together, it would be because you wish it so," he said softly with his back to you. You swallowed thickly.

"What am I to do here, then?" you asked as he began to turn down his sheets. He slid his tired body into bed and sighed.

"Whatever you like. So long as you stay in this room, you will remain unharmed."

You blinked rapidly, desperately trying to put the pieces together.

"That is all?"

"Yes. That is all. My only wish is you are safe and fed."

You couldn't help it. You had to ask.

"But... why?"

But the general rolled onto his side, effectively ending your conversation and leaving you wondering what you had gotten yourself into.

That first night, you did not share his bed. You slept on the bench by your porthole, curled up small, arms wrapped around yourself protectively until the sun rose. When you awoke, the general was gone, but a plate of food was left on the table for you.

The first week on the ship went exactly the same. You stayed in his chambers, staring out at the sea or sleeping until he returned way past dark with some food for you and a tired look in his eye. And every night, you slept on the bench, still far too distrusting of him.

The second week, the general brought a game with him at dinner time. Two cups and two wooden dice. The idea was you had to guess what you would roll. If you won, you got whatever you bet on the round. It wasn't that entertaining at first since you had only the clothes on your back and nothing else, but what you did have were stories or songs or a slight of hand trick your father taught you when you were young.

You wouldn't realize until much later that it was his way of getting to know you better.

"You released all the cows from the pasture?" Acacius repeated in disbelief. You giggled and nodded.

"I was only six years old! I thought they were being held against their will!"

Acacius laughed, the sound making you grin like a fool and your cheeks warm.

"Alright," he said once he got ahold of himself. "Go on."

You picked up the die and tossed them into a cup, giving it a firm shake and smiling when he shot you a playful wink.

You clapped the cup firmly over the table and before you raised it up, you announced, "One three and one five."

"What is your wager?"

You nodded towards his bookshelf. "One of your books."

He looked up at you in shock. "You can read?"

You gave him a fake look of disgust and nodded. "Of course I can read."

"And you have been here this whole time without picking up a book?"

"Your men told me they would cut off my hands if I touched what is yours."

His face softened and he sat back in his chair.

"No one will touch you," he told you firmly. You stared at one another, the heavy moment weighing between you, the implication of his words impossible to deny. No one will touch you because you are his.

To break the tension, you smirked and said, "So I suppose that means I do not need to wager the books?"

Acacius grinned and shook his head. "Too late, little one."

You rolled your eyes and lifted the cup, pouting when you saw two six's.

"Your turn," you said, pushing the cup to the side.

Acacius collected the dice and dumped them into the cup, shaking it while looking at you curiously from across the table and admiring the way the light from the fire flickered over your beautiful face.

"You can still take a book."

You perked up but shook your head. "That is against the rules of the game, General."

"I make the rules. Take a book tomorrow," he insisted before slamming the cup down. His large hand gripped the top of the cup, keeping it pressed tightly against the table.

"Your wager?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.

He swallowed, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say. The fear that you would pull away from him again fought against the insatiable attraction he had harbored for you for years. But the wine must have won the fight because he said, "One kiss."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and for a moment, he thought he made a horrible mistake. But then you squared your jaw and narrowed your eyes and said, "Go ahead."

He grinned, pulse thrumming excitedly in his throat when he said, "One one and one four."

But when he lifted the cup, his face fell. A three and a six.

"Ah, well," he said, shoulders drooping. He yawned and stood to collect the dice. "Better luck tomorrow."

Before you could stop yourself, you stood as well and leaned up to peck a chaste kiss against his scruffy cheek. He looked at you in surprise and you gave him a crooked grin.

"For the book."

He smiled and nodded, doing his best to hide his disappointment as you got yourself ready for bed. You had a small pillow and thin blanket to curl up with by the porthole, and it irked him that you wouldn't take more. He feared you would catch a sickness and your malnourished body wouldn't be able to fight off an infection, but you were so stubborn that he couldn't convince you otherwise.

However, the third and final week at sea had you shivering on your bench. Acacius could hardly sleep knowing how cold you were. He could hear your teeth chattering from across the room.

"I beg of you, please sleep in my bed," he said one night as you began to make your little nest by the porthole. You shook your head.

"I am fine, I swear it."

"You are not fine. Please, I will not touch you, you have my word."

You chewed on your lower lip and looked over his shoulder at his warm, plush bed. He could see your resolve begin to falter, so he offered to sleep on the bench in your place.

"No, do not be ridiculous. You have an army to lead tomorrow, you cannot be tense as a knot because you slept on a too small bench."

"I will if it means you are safe and warm," he said softly, his vulnerability taking you off guard.

"General-" you sighed, but he cut you off.

"Please. I promise I will remain on my side of the bed. Just stop being so stubborn for once in your life."

You scoffed and propped your hands on your hips. "For once in my life? And what would you know of it?"

He squinted at you and crossed his arms. "I know more than you think. I know you would not quit until you broke in that filly when you were twelve years old. I know you nearly pushed a boy down a well when he tried to kiss you in front of the whole school. I know you argued with your teacher over the correct spelling of amaranth and I know you poured every last bit of yourself into a dying farm just to keep the memory of your father alive."

Your jaw hung open in surprise, taken aback by the way he stored all of the little snippets of your life you had given him over the past two weeks only to end it with his own observation of you at the market.

You could feel yourself growing weak for him, the temptation to give in too much to bear. He had been slowly wearing you down since you arrived and perhaps he was right, perhaps you were far too stubborn because the last thing you wanted to do was go back on the proclamation you made that very first night.

So, you chose to be defiant.

"Fine," you snapped, swiveling on your heel and stomping towards his bed. "If you wish to share your bed with a whore so badly, then so be it."

Acacius rounded the bed and slipped in beside you, making sure to leave plenty of space.

"You and I both know you are no whore."

"Oh, you know so very much about me, I forget."

You tugged the heavy blankets up to your chin and tried not to audibly sigh at how comfortable it was in his bed.

"If you are a whore, tell me then: how many men have you laid with?"

You clenched your jaw, angry that he was able to figure you out so easily. Instead of answering, you rolled onto your side, your back to him, and muttered, "good night."

Acacius grinned and closed his eyes, proud of himself for besting you.

"Good night."

The following morning, you awoke earlier than usual. When your eyelids fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was the ache in your bones was gone. The large, soft bed had been enough to cure you in just one night.

Not something you planned on admitting to the general, of course.

The second thing you noticed when you sat up in bed was that the ship was not moving. It was completely still, and you could hear loud, quick footsteps outside your door and above your head. Men were shouting to one another and the clink of swords and armor were echoing throughout the halls. Then, through the walls somewhere above you, you heard the general's deep, booming voice yelling orders to his men. You threw off the blankets and hurried to the porthole, your eyes widening when you saw land and small boats being lowered into the water.

You had arrived at whatever distant land the emperors demanded Acacius claim for Rome, and the soldiers were getting ready to depart for their first fight.

You chewed nervously on your nail, curled up against the wall and peering out the window for hours until the very last boat sailed away. In the distance, you could see the general's broad back covered in armor, his dark curls fluttering in the sea breeze and his massive sword tucked dutifully at his waist.

He had left for war and didn't even say goodbye.

Why would you care if he said goodbye? Maybe if they all die, you could escape to shore and be free, find a new city and make a home for yourself.

Even you had to admit that fantasy was foolish. No matter where you went, your fate would always be the same. You had no money, no prospects, no skills and no family. Your destiny was already written and it was a miracle your first attempt at prostitution landed you in the cushy quarters of Rome's surprisingly respectful general.

Your nerves kept your feet moving all day. You tidied up the general's desk, sorting his papers and maps. You scrubbed at the dishware until they sparkled and you made the bed, fluffing up the pillows and tucking in the loose edges until you had nothing left to do. The room was as neat as possible, not a single item out of place, and yet you still floundered around looking for something to occupy your busy mind.

When the sun began to dip and his room grew darker, you went around lighting candles to allow for more light. You were in the middle of lighting the last candle when you heard a timid knock at the door.

Nobody had ever come to his chambers the entire three weeks besides the general himself. You swallowed anxiously, wondering who it could be and if you should answer when you heard a woman's small voice from the other side of the door.

You decided it was safe and opened the door a crack to find one of the whores you had boarded the ship with waiting on the other side with buckets of water and a basin.

"For the general," she said softly. You nodded and dragged the buckets into the room, trying not to stare at the bruises and dirt littering her dry skin. Your stomach twisted with guilt after she left and you locked the door. The other women were living like cattle and you were living the life of luxury. Not only was the general not forcing you to fuck him, but you were giving him sass at every turn.

It was a harsh reminder of your fortune, of what your life could be like. The thought of living the life of the women below deck frightened you, so you had decided that evening when the general returned, you would give yourself to him to show your appreciation, as well as out of fear he would soon get rid of you if you didn't give him what he wanted.

You remained at your post, staring out at the dark sea until you could see the bobbing of lanterns making their way across the black expanse, letting you know the men were returning for the night. You rushed to warm up his water over the fire, dumping it into the large basin. You poured some scented oils into the bath just as the door unlocked and opened, revealing a very filthy and exhausted looking general holding two plates of food.

"Good evening," you said, standing obediently. Acacius paused at the door, confused by your formality before closing it with his heel and setting down the food at the table. "I have a warm bath ready for you, General," you added, pointing towards the basin. He nodded tiredly and began to work on the hooks of his armor. You rushed forward to help him, once again taking him by surprise until he was stripped down to his red tunic.

"Would you like to eat or bathe first?" you asked. The general sighed and looked longingly at the bath.

"I will clean myself while you eat," he said. He pointed towards the table and motioned for you to turn around.

"May I assist you instead, General?" you asked with your back turned. You could hear the shuffle of fabric falling to the wooden floor and then a sharp hiss when he sunk down into the warm water.

"Assist me with what? Cleansing myself? I believe I can manage," he chuckled. You turned around to stare at the back of his head, his body now submerged in the water and hidden from view, but you could still see his shoulders and arms. They looked bruised and bloodied.

He didn't notice your eyes on him, of course. He was busy scrubbing the dirt and blood from his skin while he looked around the tidy room.

"It is very nice in here, you did not have to straighten up."

It was the least you could do and you knew it but said nothing.

Instead, you shakily lifted your worn tunic over your head and let it crumple to the floor. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you slowly approached him, the general completely unaware as he continued to scrub his skin.

"I can think of another way to assist you," you said nervously as you stepped into his eyeline. His chin tilted up and he did a double take when he saw your naked form standing before him. His cloth dropped into the water and his jaw fell open in surprise, eyes wide and greedily raking over your body.

"Wh- what is this?" he stammered, gaze glued to your chest. Your fingers fidgeted at your sides under his scrutiny.

"I thought I would show you my appreciation for your hospitality," you explained. "I would like to repay you in some way for choosing me to share your quarters."

A small smile tugged at his lips as he eagerly reached forward, then stopped when he registered your words. He looked up at you questioningly, excitement falling from his face when he asked, "What do you mean, repay me?"

You shrugged and took a hesitant step forward, close enough now so he could reach out and touch your cunt if he chose.

"I realized today my fate could have been much harsher," you explained. "I have not been showing you my appreciation and respect, and in return, I wish to give you my body to use as you see fit."

Acacius frowned and turned his head away, searching for the cloth so he could continue cleaning himself.

"I do not want your body as payment, I believe I told you that weeks ago."

"You said we would not lie together unless I wished it so," you protested. "I now wish it."

"You wish to lay with me out of obligation, not desire. That is not something I want."

Embarrassment and confusion flooded your mind as you slowly stretched your arms across your exposed body, trying to hide yourself out of shame.

"I apologize-"

"Get yourself decent and eat," he commanded without looking up. His voice sounded hard and cold and for some reason, it made you want to cry. You did as you were told, dragging your dirty tunic over your head and sat quietly at his table to pick at your food. You were confused and ashamed, sitting in the tense room with him while you tried to work out what he wanted from you. The idea of wanting a man out of desire never occurred to you. You had grown up under the impression women of your station did not get to experience the luxury of desire, and instead came to terms early on in life that you always had one asset to use at your disposal.

Not one time did you ever imagine being with a man out of affection or love.

"I apologize," you tried again after he had dried off and joined you. He had changed into a clean, white tunic and was clenching a similar one in his fist.

"You may use this," he said, ignoring your apology yet again. He thrusted the tunic towards you and you fumbled when you took it from his grasp. "The one you are wearing looks as if it might fall apart the moment you step outside and feel the sea breeze."

"Thank you," you murmured, fingertips brushing over the soft and expensive material in your lap.

"I will also call for more water tomorrow so you may wash yourself," he said before biting into a chunk of bread.

Your cheeks went hot with shame, still feeling guilt over the mercy and generosity he had shown you.

"I do not know what it is to desire someone," you said after a few quiet moments. Acacius continued to chew and kept his focus fixed on his plate. "I never imagined it would be a part of my life. May I remind you we come from different worlds."

He grunted in response but you noticed his shoulders begin to relax.

"I understand. But you must stop treating yourself as a whore. You are so much more than that, I have seen it with my own eyes. And to watch you debase yourself, to think so lowly of yourself, breaks my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt tears begin to well up, quickly threatening to spill down your cheeks. How could you have been so wrong? How could you not see the man for who he really was? He was a man who was gentle, kindhearted, protective and most importantly, cared very deeply for you. To what extent, you were unsure, but if he wanted you to desire him and he saved you from being used by countless other men, he certainly must have harbored stronger feelings than you ever thought possible.

"Alright."

His dark eyes flicked up to yours when you spoke.

"I will not debase myself," you said flatly. The corner of his mouth twitched before he looked back down at his food.

"Very well. I am pleased that has been sorted," he replied before shoving his plate off to the side and standing to collect the cups and dice. "Shall we play a few rounds before bed?"

You grinned and nodded, gathering up your plates and dumping them in the water by the door to clean later before joining him back at the table. And somehow, the awkwardness from the evening faded away after a few rolls of the dice.

It had been two weeks docked off shore on some foreign land. You hadn't left his room in over a month and you were beginning to feel insane. You told him as much early one morning when he was dressing for battle. It was still dark outside. Acacius had mentioned he wanted to arrive on shore before dawn so that he might get into position under the cover of night.

"When I return tonight, I will take you up on the deck for some fresh air," he promised as he cinched up his armor. "Do not leave this room when I am not here."

"Why not? Are your men not with you during the daytime?" you asked from his bed.

"It is not my men I worry about," he explained, sheathing his sword after lacing up his sandals.

"Then what do you worry for?"

"I worry about everything," he confessed. His hand was on the doorknob poised to leave, but he stopped to turn to you one last time. "I do not trust the soldiers from this city not to try to climb aboard the ships whilst we are gone. It is important the ships appear empty."

You nodded in understanding before burrowing back in his sheets and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you looking comfortable and radiant in his bed.

"Behave, my dove, and we may dine on the deck tonight," he said, making you smile wide. He slipped quietly out of his room and locked the door behind him, fearful if he lingered any longer, he may not leave the ship the whole day.

You spent the afternoon reading and bathing and cleaning the general's dirty clothes in the extra water he had brought up after he left. You weren't sure how it happened, but the two of you had fallen into a life of domesticity amidst war without even sharing so much as a kiss.

What surprised you the most was you enjoyed it. You enjoyed tending to his things and cleaning what you could during the day, and then caring for him at night when he returned all bloodied and tired.

It had not once crossed your mind that he may not return until it happened.

That night, you saw the lanterns bobbing over the water, your signal to begin heating up his water for a bath. Your hair smelled like the expensive oils you poured into his water from your own bath earlier. You smiled to yourself when you thought of smelling like him, and him of you.

Heavy footsteps landed on the wooden floorboards above your head and outside your door. At first, nothing seemed amiss. Acacius usually didn't come to his room right away. He typically visited the wounded soldiers in the infirmary, making sure they were well tended to and fed before doing his rounds, assigning a night crew, and then finally gathering food for you both before retiring for the evening.

But more time passed than usual. You could tell because your stomach began to rumble and his water grew lukewarm. You paced around the room, ears straining to hear the voices from the other soldiers, trying to discern anything from their muffled conversations.

It wasn't until two hours went by that you heard a sharp rap at the door and a man's voice echoing on the other side, announcing he brought you food.

Your blood went cold and you wondered if you should open the door, but then you remembered Acacius told you he wasn't worried about his own men, the underlying message being that his soldiers would never touch what was his. So after a moment's hesitation, you swung open the door.

"Here," a young man said, shoving one plate of food towards you. His face was stained with dried blood and dirt and you frowned before taking the food and thanking him softly.

"Where is the general?" you asked timidly.

"He fell in battle," he grumbled before turning away. Your heart plummeted as you reached out and grabbed his shoulder, taking him by surprise.

"What do you mean?" you exclaimed. Fear and adrenaline mixed with something foreign coursed through your veins as you felt your lower lip tremble. The solider shook you off with disgust before stepping back.

"He was struck down. Last I saw of him he was lying still on the battlefield."

When he saw the look of despair on your face, he took pity on you.

"Others were assisting him, his body will return to Rome," he assured you before giving you a firm nod and disappearing down the long hall, leaving you to collapse into a fit of sobs behind the locked door.

The feeling you had in your chest was similar to the way you felt when your father passed, but something was different. It felt like a piece of you went dark, like you may never smile or laugh ever again. Grief consumed every fiber of your being and you found yourself crawling into his bed, face streaked with tears so thick you could hardly see your hands reach for his pillow. You pulled it tightly against your chest and you curled up around it, muffling your wails until your head began to pound and your body felt weak.

You drifted in and out of sleep, tossing and turning until the room grew cold and the fire dissolved into embers. You stood and wrapped a blanket around yourself, sniffling and shuffling over to the fire to stoke the flames wearing the general's spare tunic he had gifted you. After a few minutes, the fire roared back to life and you sat back with a heavy sigh.

Just as you were wondering what you would do come morning and how you would ever be able to move on without him, you heard footsteps approaching. You whipped around in fear and tightened your grip on the blanket. With the general no longer around to protect you, you had assumed the other men would eventually come looking for you, but you had to admit you didn't expect it so fast.

You curled yourself into a ball on your old bench, staring at the doorknob, expecting to see it jiggle and eventually forced open from the other side, but to your surprise the lock clicked quietly and the door slowly creaked open.

When you saw the general appear, limping and bloodied but still alive, you practically screamed. You jumped to your feet and rushed over, moments away from throwing yourself into his arms before you caught yourself.

"Acacius," you whispered in disbelief, the informality slipping easily past your lips for the very first time. He gave you a tired smile and locked the door behind him.

"I apologize for missing dinner," he said. You laughed as two fresh tears trickled down your cheeks. Your hands hovered nervously over his armor as if you weren't sure where you could touch him.

"Apology accepted," you replied before gingerly unhooking the armor around his shoulders. He groaned with relief when you lifted the heavy metal off him and set it against the wall by the door to polish another time. When you turned back around, you gasped at the blood that had seeped through his tunic, staining the yellow fabric a dark red.

"You are hurt," you whimpered, then hurried around his room for clean cloths, healing oils, and salves he kept in his desk. "Take that off and sit down. Allow me to tend to your wound."

He wordlessly lifted the ruined tunic over his head, wincing slightly when the wound at his side pulled, and he sat down at the table just as you instructed. You collected some of the unused water from his bath and set it over the flames to warm up before scooping up some more and setting it on the table next to him.

"They stemmed the bleeding on the boat," he explained. "It just needs to be cleaned and perhaps -"

"I will handle this. You just rest and eat," you told him, pushing your plate of uneaten food in his direction. His eyes fell onto the food and he frowned.

"It is untouched," he said, "why did you not eat?"

"How could I when I thought you were dead?" you snapped as you brought a soaked rag to his side and began to gently pat at the nasty looking gash.

Acacius took a bite of food, the flavors melting onto his tongue and making him groan. He didn't realize how hungry he was and before he knew it, he had eaten all of the food except for the grapes. You were leaning across his lap, bandaging up his wound with intense focus. He sighed contentedly, basking in the warmth from the fire and the soft touch of your hand on his skin. He could already feel his strength beginning to return.

"That should hold," you said, sitting upright to inspect your work. He glanced down and raised his eyebrows at the neat little bandage you had adhered to his wound.

"You did a very good job. Where did you learn such things?"

You shrugged and began to clean up the salves and oils. "On a farm, many accidents happen. You learn quickly how to tend to a wound."

He smiled and sipped from the wine you had poured for him while watching you move around the room, disposing of his soiled clothes and rags and then bringing the bucket of warm water over to the table with a fresh cloth.

When you pulled the other chair closer and sat, fitting your legs between his knees so you could reach him, he began to protest.

"You do not need to -"

"I want to," you said, cutting him off with a warm, wet cloth on his aching shoulders. His eyelids fluttered with a groan, leaning back into his chair and giving in. It felt so wonderful to be washed by your hand, to have you so close and safe while tenderly caring for him. It was all he had been dreaming about for years, ever since the first day he saw you at the market.

"So many scars," you whispered, swiping the cloth down his broad, strong chest. His breathing stuttered when you reached his stomach and he tensed.

"I have been in many battles," he murmured with his eyes still closed. You hummed to yourself and continued to work, diligently and carefully scrubbing away the layers of blood and grime until you cleaned everything you could see.

"Can you lean forward, General?" you asked, "I would like to cleanse your back."

He nodded and with a grunt, sat upright so he could lean forward. You stood from your chair and positioned yourself behind him, taking great care with every swipe of your cloth, afraid of unearthing a new wound under all the filth.

"Back to general now, are we?" he asked.

Your hand paused on his shoulder blade. He sensed your confusion and he chuckled.

"When I first arrived, you called me Acacius," he explained.

"Oh," you breathed before continuing your work. "That was disrespectful, I -"

"No, I quite liked it," he said before you could finish apologizing. "You may call me Marcus when we are alone, if you prefer."

Your eyes widened and although he couldn't see you, he could tell you were surprised.

"That would be highly irregular," you finally said softly, putting down the wet cloth and picking up a bottle of perfumed oil. You sprinkled a few drops into your palm and you rubbed your hands together. "That name should only be used by those closest to you."

He opened his mouth to respond but when your slick hands found his shoulders and your fingers began to dig into the knots in his muscles, he moaned and felt himself go lax.

"Oh gods, that feels incredible," he rasped. The deep timber of his voice sent a wave of arousal right to your core. You continued to work on his back and shoulders, privately marveling at his broad frame and firm muscles under his scarred, bronzed skin. He was truly something to behold. So strong, handsome, and fearless. Yet also kind and gentle. The proximity of his body and the ricocheting emotions you had experienced that evening had you reacting to him in a way you never had before. It was confusing and strange yet also exciting, and the noises you were drawing from his mouth with every roll of your thumbs was causing a dull ache to form between your thighs.

You blinked and cleared your throat, trying to shake the heavy curtain of lust that clung to you.

"What happened out there? One of your men informed me you were dead."

Marcus sighed and sat up straight, the angle causing you to drop your hands from his tight shoulders. One of his massive hands reached back to take yours so he could lead you to stand in front of him, between his knees.

"They had called a truce. They requested to discuss terms of surrender, so I called off my men and went to speak with their king," he began, his hand still engulfing your own as he gazed up at you with his soft, dark eyes. "It was a trap. They ambushed me when I got out of range. It must have been twenty of them," he continued solemnly, his thumb brushing against your wrist as he spoke. "I slayed them all, one by one, but once I took down their final solider, an archer took aim from the wall. I was able to dodge the arrow but I was not quick enough," he chuckled and looked down at his wound. "I am not the young man I once was."

"I cried for hours," you admitted quietly. His eyes darted up to yours again, holding his breath as you spoke. "I had never considered you would not return to me at the end of the day. However, when I got word you had died-"

You paused when a sob got lodged in your throat. You knit your brows together, hoping to stave off your tears while Marcus patiently waited. Eventually, you gave him a watery smile and lifted your free hand to cup his cheek.

"I felt a grief I never thought I would feel again," you said, voice shaking. His eyes searched your face, watching the way your anguish rolled through you at the memory. He swallowed tightly and, with his other hand, gently gripped your waist.

"Tell me," he whispered, "did you feel these things only because you feared for your safety if I was not here?"

You shook your head as one singular tear trickled down your cheek.

"No," you breathed, "it was because I felt like a part of me died, too. Because I could not imagine my life without you."

When you saw the joyful look in his eye, you quickly closed the remaining distance between you, leaning down the rest of the way and slanting your mouth desperately over his. He moaned and dropped your hand so he could cup the back of your neck, pulling you even closer so you were forced to straddle his lap.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he groaned amid kisses that were growing increasingly messy as the heat between you grew. "How badly I want you? How long I have waited?"

Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of a single thing to say, but Marcus didn't give you a chance to respond, anyway. His tongue slipped past your lips, greedily swirling in tandem with yours and forcing your jaw to open wider. The hand on your waist dropped to flatten against your lower back and he pressed you forward so not even a sliver of moonlight could sneak between your bodies.

Underneath your gifted tunic, you were bare. When you joined the other whores all those weeks ago, they told you there was no use for undergarments, that the men would just destroy them if you bothered to wear any, so just like all the others, you never did. It had never been a problem until that very moment, when Marcus had you writhing in his lap, hips stretched wide and cunt free to rub against his thigh. When you first made contact with his leg, the firm muscle brushing against your sensitive clit, you jumped in his lap and moaned into his mouth.

"Tell me, sweet thing," he murmured when he finally broke the kiss. You were panting heavily, eyelids drooping with need as you gazed down at him. "I know you have not sold yourself to a man, but have you ever laid with one before?"

You shook your head and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. His lips brushed up against your throat and he began to suck on the sensitive skin there as both of his hands fell to your hips. Gently, he rocked you back and forth, sliding your slick, bare cunt over his thigh. He heard you sigh and smiled against your skin when your head dipped backwards in pleasure.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered, voice raspy and thick. "Oh, yes, it feels... heavenly," you told him with a sigh.

"Good," he grunted, "keep going. Do not stop until you come. I will need you soft and wet before you take my cock."

"Yes, General," you replied obediently, making his cock jump behind his thin loincloth.

Marcus tugged at the back of your loose tunic, stretching the material across your breasts so your hardened nipples poked through. With a low growl, he lunged forward and wrapped his mouth around one, cloth and all. His teeth added a surprisingly tantalizing amount of pressure that had you gasping for air as your hips quickened their pace over his thigh. You must have been leaving streaks of arousal all over him but something told you he didn't mind.

"You desire me, yes?" he questioned when he switched his attention to your other breast. You nodded feverishly, face tilted towards the ceiling as you chased your pleasure.

"Yes," you gasped, "yes, Ge- Marcus."

He groaned so loudly you thought he might wake up the whole ship.

"Fuck, say that again."

You smiled and circled your hips faster, grinding down onto his thick leg. You were so close, you could taste it.

"Marcus," you whined, "oh, Marcus. I cannot wait to feel you inside of me. I just know you will make me feel so good, will you not?"

Suddenly, his hand was back on your neck and his mouth was pressed tightly against the underside of your jaw, not unlike a wild animal pinning his prey against his sharp fangs. You could feel his hot puffs of air fanning across your skin and his teeth scraping your throat. His intensity might have frightened you if you weren't on the brink of an earth shattering orgasm.

"I will make you feel so good, you will never want to take another lover again," he said darkly. The hairs on your arms stood up but you continued to rut yourself as fast as you could against his thigh, your own chest heaving as you fought for air. "And if I have it my way, you never will," he added.

His words were what tipped you over the edge. You cried out his name and clutched at his shoulders for support as your orgasm rolled through you, covering him with your slick.

Your body was still trembling in his arms when he lifted you up and carried you to the bed. You blinked rapidly in response, poised to argue with him about potentially reopening his wound, but before you could get a single word out he had tossed you onto the sheets and climbed on top of you, caging you in.

"Before I ravish you, my sweet, what do you know of coupling?"

You scoffed. "I am no fool, I know how it works."

Marcus chuckled at your snark and sat back on his heels to peel your tunic over your head, exposing yourself entirely to him. A groan rumbled through his wide, bare chest as he stared down at you hungrily, all spread out and ready for him.

"I cannot lie. Ever since you first stood before me naked, your beautiful body has consumed my every waking thought."

"It shows incredible restraint, then, for you to share a bed with me each night," you teased, eyes dancing playfully as he stripped himself of his loincloth.

"You have no idea," he growled, falling back onto his forearms. The tip of his nose nudged against yours affectionately. "I have waited years for this, my sweet."

The idea of any man pining after you, let alone the mighty General of Rome, was a strange and foreign concept.

"I am just the daughter of a poor farmer," you muttered, fingers brushing his peppered curls behind his ear.

"Your station means very little to me," he replied, looking down between your bodies so he could notch the thick head of his cock at your opening. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

Your pulse quickened when you felt the slight bit of pressure he applied. Knowing how it worked was one thing, experiencing it for the first time was another.

"I-I was told it may hurt," you said meekly. Marcus's eyes found yours and he tenderly cupped your jaw.

"Yes, that is true, but I promise it will not last long," he assured you. You swallowed and nodded before spreading your legs wider and hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Tell me if it is too much," he murmured. He pressed your foreheads together, lips hovering above yours, ready to soothe you from the pain.

"Go on, then," you said bravely.

Slowly, he breeched your opening and sunk one inch inside of you. You gasped and dug your heels harder into his thighs, but Marcus held steady.

"Speak," he demanded after a few seconds of listening to your heavy breathing.

"It stings," you admitted, "but it is not... unpleasant."

He nodded and pecked a chaste kiss against your lips before giving you another inch. You whined and squirmed a bit but once you settled, he took it as his cue to continue. It went just like that until he finally found himself fully seated inside of your tight heat.

"The worst is over, my sweet," he told you.

You wiggled underneath him, moving this way and that until you got used to the feeling of him inside you. Your hands wrapped around the backs of his biceps and you stretched your neck so you could bite and nip playfully at his prickly jaw.

"I enjoy being full of you," you admitted shyly, eliciting a grunt from the back of his throat.

"Good," he grumbled before drawing back his hips and slowly easing himself back inside your warmth. "Because I intend on having you full of me as much as possible. I fear I will never have enough now that you have given me a taste."

Your jaw dropped open when he began to move faster, gently and steadily working you open, carving a space for himself inside of you forever. The only thing you wanted was to have him as close as you could, so you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his neck, molding your bodies together as one.

"My sweet girl," he panted, mouth hunting for yours. "You feel better than I ever dreamed. So fucking tight and wet. I cannot believe my fortune, that you would give yourself to me. I wonder if I did indeed die in battle and have ascended to the heavens."

The stretch was divine, his heavy length dragging in and out of you and nudging against a spot that made your stomach clench and your head grow fuzzy.

"Do not say such things," you scolded him breathlessly. His hips stilled for a moment, waiting for you to continue. "Do not jest about your death. My heart cannot handle it."

His eyes softened and his mouth crashed against yours with a groan, overcome that you would feel so strongly for him. He began to roll his hips again but kept his mouth latched onto yours, swallowing down your whimpers and moans.

"I will never leave you," he whispered against your lips. His thrusts grew quicker but he tried his best to be careful and not drive himself too deep for fear of causing you pain. "I will always return now that I have you waiting for me. I shall be invincible in battle."

You laughed lightly, dragging your mouth down his throat and tasting his freshly perfumed skin.

"Was that all it took for you to become immortal?" you teased.

"Yes," he hissed, "a cunt as snug and perfect as yours is all a man needs to give him purpose."

His hand slithered between your back and sheets, pressing his palm firmly against your spine so you arched underneath him. His knees spread wider so he could get better leverage, and he began to roughly snap his hips. You gasped and grabbed onto his hair, giving it a sharp tug and making him groan. It was lewd yet somehow romantic, hearing the sound of your skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room.

"Does it hurt?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"No," you whimpered inbetween the soft moans he drew every time his cock slammed back into you. "Oh gods, Marcus, please-"

"What do you need, my love?"

He sounded breathless, his voice slightly strained, and your chest burst with pride. You loved the idea of being the one who made such a strong man so very weak.

"I- I am not sure," you admitted truthfully. "It feels so wonderful, but it is different than before."

As it turned out, you didn't need to figure out what you needed because Marcus knew. Somehow, he managed to know your body better than you. He knew how to make it sing and thrum just for him.

His hand snuck between your bodies and the pad of his thumb found your clit. He rubbed firm, slow circles over the sensitive bud, and his name instantly flew from your mouth, loud and wild. You likely could be heard from shore, but Marcus never shushed you. In fact, he smiled and worked his thumb faster, drawing out more delicious moans with every stroke.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured while sucking a mark into your neck. He could feel your lower belly begin to tense and heard your breath waver, so he circled his hips faster, cock greedily plunging in and out of your soaked cunt, chasing his release with reckless abandon now that he could feel you were close.

"I have obsessed over you for years. Dreamed of having you all to myself, just like this," he continued. He could sense his words had a great effect on you. Your walls fluttered and pulsed around him when he admitted his deepest secrets, so he kept talking.

"Long nights spent on the cold ground in the middle of war, I would dream of you. I would wonder what you would be doing back in Rome. I would pray you did not find a husband while I was away."

Marcus gasped when your cunt gripped around him so tightly that it took his breath away. "The thought of you belonging to another was enough to drive me insane," he groaned before capturing your lips with his.

"I am yours," you rasped when he pulled away, and when your eyes locked, he could see the adoration he felt for you reflected right back. "For as long as you will have me, I am yours."

Marcus's eyes slid closed in bliss after hearing the words he so longed to hear. "Come for me, my love. Come for me and when we return home, I shall make you my wife. I will take care of you. I promise you will never go hungry again."

Your hands grappled with the back of his head, fingers threading through his unruly locks as you pulled him down for a searing kiss. He muffled the sounds of your orgasm, cries of his name dying in your throat while your body bucked wildly beneath him.

It only took a few moments before he joined you. With his hand roughly squeezing your hip, he yanked you towards him. His body stilled, pumping you full of his seed while your tongues danced together in tandem until his shoulders sagged and you began to shake.

Marcus flicked the sheets so he could toss them over your trembling bodies. He planted kisses along the side of your head and jaw, then brushed the hair away from your face until your breathing leveled and your eyes reopened.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded and gave him a weak smile. "I am tired."

Marcus withdrew his hips, sliding his softening cock out from your clutch. You cried out in pain and he instantly jolted out of bed to soak a clean rag in some leftover warm water, then hurried back to press it between your legs.

"Better?"

"Yes," you sighed. "Thank you."

He gave you a quick kiss and slid back under the covers. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest so he could nuzzle your hair and murmur sweet nothings in your ear.

"Must you leave me in the morning? Can you not spend just one day recovering from your wound?"

Marcus kissed your bare shoulder and shook his head.

"The war is almost done. Tomorrow, I will make them surrender so we may sail home and start our life together."

You grinned and burrowed deeper under the covers. "Did you mean that?"

"What is that, my love?"

"When you said you would make me your wife," you said sheepishly. "Or was that just your mind getting lost to desire?"

"No, I meant every word," he said before rolling over and snuffing out the candle next to the bed. "When we return to Rome, I will make you my bride. You will bear my children and I will watch them play in the garden with you by my side."

You hummed and closed your eyes. "That sounds lovely."

You had very little idea of the politics in Rome and how the highest ranking general of the Roman army could possibly announce he was going to wed a poor farmer's daughter, but you knew deep down if Marcus wanted it, he would somehow make it happen. You knew this because his determination always won, on and off the battlefield.

After all, you were living proof of it.

[fushiguho]

Curiosity & the Poor, Unfortunate Cat ⭑.ᐟ

ᯓ★ Synopsis Toji Fushiguho — an absent father, a college dropout, and a panhandling loiterer who just so happens to be your father’s best friend. Obviously you have to fuck him... out of pity, of course.

Wordcount 4k

Warnings fem!reader, age gap, toji is kind of disrespectful but so are you, so much teasing it’s insane, toji has a filthy mouth (duh), rough sex, unprotected, spanking, abrupt ending, brat taming??

Author's Notes this was inspired by an anon request for toji as your father’s best friend which was so freaking fun to write (everyone say thank yew anonnnn) and this was supposed to be a drabble but i know no limits... i was also channeling a lot of my own desires here #needthat p.s. this blog is under construction, i’m in the midst of transferring my work from my previous account which was marked as explicit boooo :/

Your sheets ruffle as you discontentedly toss in bed, the silken fabric bunching haphazardly while you writhe, empty stomach caving in a ravenous hunger. Internally, you curse yourself, wishing you had eaten the dinner your father prepared earlier, but now, it’s definitely too late. You’re sure Toji has already scarfed whatever was left of it down into that perpetually endless gut of his. You’ve never stood a chance. Alas, you must eat, so with a groan of annoyance, you roll out of bed, padding to the kitchen on the hunt for satiation.

It’s the dead of night. The sacred time of day when nothing is expected of you. When everyone you have ever known is fast asleep and you’re all that remains. Darkness consumes the lifeless house as you shuffle across the carpeted floor. A night light that’s tucked at the end of the long hall flickers like a dwindling torch in the depths of a dark, endless forest. As you creep down the steep staircase, you sigh, taking notice of overhead microwave light already casting a soft, amber glow — there is someone else that too remains.

Toji.

“You can’t keep eating all of our food.” You huff, abruptly announcing your presence as you near the final step, observing the burly, sable haired man that raids your barren fridge. “I don’t even know why my father puts up with you.”

He smells your sweet, gourmand perfume before he even registers your voice. It’s utterly embarrassing how painfully his cock aches from a mere whiff of you, the sound of you. Unabashed, Toji shrugs, stuffing three, large strawberries into his greedy mouth, eyes narrowing on your pretty frame. “Your father loves me, sweetheart… couldn’t have raised your bratty ass without me.” His ravenous gaze lingers far too long, sharp eyes shamelessly flitting across your soft, exposed skin, sizing you up. “And hello to you too. What’s wrong with you young people? Does no one respect their elders anymore?”

“Oh, brother, here we go.” You grumble, bracing yourself for yet another fruitless lecture, arms crossing over your chest as you sit into your right hip. His keen eyes follow your subtle shift in stance. “And your son? Where is he?”

He scoffs. “With his mother, thank you.” Toji rolls his eyes, reaching for another strawberry. “You sure you don’t have homework to do or something? Always pesterin’ me. I’m old, damnit!”

“I graduated three years ago, thank you… though you can’t say the same,” you snide, rudely pushing past him to peer into the refrigerator, “and you're like forty-five… you should've gotten your shit together yesterday.” You add, growing progressively annoyed with his lingering presence. “Did you drink all of the milk again?”

“Heh, oh yeah. Whoops,” he goads, popping the p, “and I’m not that old, you brat.” He mumbles, esteem crumbling at your assumption.

He’s grown accustomed to your biting criticism, though in the beginning, he would almost always quarrel back, which inevitably led to the two of you in a needlessly heated and borderline flirtatious feud. Now, he’s learned to actively ignore your insults but god, he would only be lying if he said your petty, condescending remarks didn’t rewire the chemistry of his brain.

Alas, all he offers is another irritatingly indifferent shrug, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his scarred lips — his own twisted version of remittance. Toji doesn’t give a fuck, not one. He knows your father will replace it by the end of the week like he always does, so why should he?

It has been nearly a decade since your father has all too graciously granted Toji loitering rights to your childhood home. Never has he paid for groceries, for bills, for anything. He is penniless, indolent, and baselessly forthright, but god, is he the finest man you have ever known.

After both your father and Toji’s untimely and coincidentally synchronized divorces, the two have been inseparable ever since, wallowing in their shared pity together. During his unnecessarily messy divorce, Toji lost the house and your father was gracious enough to offer him a place to stay until he secures a stable job.

That was nine years ago.

Weirdly enough, Toji has known you the entirety of your existence, but not you his. From as early as you can remember, he was always just… there, but as time passed and you grew older, things changed; the way you thought about him changed. Before, you thought of him as just one of your father’s degenerate friends from undergrad who fell through the cracks. Today, that notion still holds, but now you want to fuck him, bad.

For years, you’ve imagined what Toji is like behind closed doors, what he would feel like, what he would fuck like. If he’s the type of man that plays with his food before eating it, if he even likes to eat his prey anyway. Maybe he’s the type of predator that prefers stringing his meals along, toying with and teasing them like some cruel, one-sided game and he’s got the unfair advantage. Either way, you don’t think you’d mind.

Countless nights you’ve found yourself sprawled apart with his name on the tip of your tongue. Bare, perspiring body bowing as you brainlessly fuck yourself against one of his sweatshirts that you snagged from the laundry he doesn’t do. There is no doubt that Toji has heard the desperate cries of his name that pour from beneath your paper thin door, your pretty whimpers so incredibly loud and slutty and all for him.

If he wanted, you’d let him have in the worst possible way. You would let him pry you apart and gut you out completely, leaving you nothing but a shell of your former self — drooling, stuffed, and defiled. The utter heinous things you’d commit for a mere taste of his skin is a direct contradiction of who you are and everything your father believes he’s raised you to be. You’re no angel.

Defeated, you close the refrigerator, a deep, irritated sigh dragging from your lips. This man is useless, you think. If not for his maddeningly beautiful face, you’d sock him in it, sending him tumbling to the floor so that you can finally mount him and —

“Do you wanna fuck? Is that it?”

A long, deafening beat passes. You swallow thickly. “… what?”

“You heard me. I asked if you want to fuck.” He reiterates, voice eerily calm as if he couldn’t care less about the proposition at hand. “You’re always so pissed with me, thinkin’ that’s maybe what you need... a good fuck, heh.”

His blatantly unprovoked inquiry is jostling you back into reality, because what? What the hell is wrong with him? Why did the question roll off of his tongue so quickly? So smoothly? As if it’s no big deal, as if this is just another one of his usual, overly prying questions. Is he serious?

“Toji, wha—”

“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?” His head is falling to the right, a sleazy grin marring his slick lips. “You don’t think I see the way you look at me, sweetheart? Not a very discreet girl, I’ll tell you that…” a dark, gut wrenching chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest, “maybe a noisy one though, hm?” He hums, quirking an omniscient brow.

Guiltily, your gaze is falling to the tiled floor, thighs pressing together as you mumble. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Sure.

He laughs again. “You’re not a good liar either,” he’s creeping closer, the warmth of his breath like kindle to a rampant flame, “but you’re a pretty little thing… you know that already though, huh?” A curious hand is creeping around your waist, slyly reeling you in, the redolence of his cheap, inebriating cologne permeating the sinisterly thick air.

You expel an audible breath, taking a cautious step backward, yet he follows, taking a larger step forward, a step closer. Your skin burns, cheeks warming with crimson. He’s too fucking close and he knows it. What if someone sees? You don’t think you can bear the consequences that’d unfold if your father were to ever find the two of you like this. He would kill Toji, then you, and finally himself for good measure.

But god, do you want to find out. When it comes to human nature, curiosity always seems to prevail and fuck, are you one curious cat. There is something innately deep and pressing within your soul that craves satiation. It yearns to be known, to be explored. A deep, perpetually endless hole that aches — it longs to be filled, to be stuffed. None of your peers can do that for you, you’re convinced.

Your dark, repressed desires are only concerning your stance on feminism, but you don’t care, that’s the very thing. You want to find out. You need that, undoubtedly. Is what they say about older men true? The thought lingers as you contemplate the looming proposition. Yes, he’s your father’s closest friend. Yes, he’s far older than you with a child of his own. And yes, your perpetual obsession is only growing increasingly worrisome by the ticking clock, but truly, who can blame you? Look at him.

“C’monnn, you won’t even look at me, doll?” He frowns, a big hand cupping your chin, pulling your gaze upward. “Thought your father and I taught you better than that, no?”

Another loud, incredulous breath escapes your parted lips. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, cunt drooling.

Just the sweet, innocent quaver of your voice alone makes his cock twitch. His plaid pajama bottoms growing near uncomfortable as the fat, mushroom head leaks against the dampening fabric. What’s left of his dwindling resolve is slipping from his fingertips when you’re finally peering up at him, the coy bat of your lashes so perfectly slutty. Pretty, pleading eyes all wide and glossed over with your evident lust. God, he knows you need it.

Toji groans, conflicted for half a beat before growling a strangled and defeated, ‘fuck it’ then, his lips are slotting against yours in a delirious, haphazard kiss. Large hands blindly creep around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. “This… this is your fucking fault.” He grouses, warm tongue delving so shamelessly inside of your honeyed mouth, greedily licking his way to the source.

“Fuck me then,” you’re pulling away just barely and he can’t help but to follow, subconsciously chasing your fleeting lips, “make me sorry.” It’s quiet, breathless, your pretty lips ghosting his.

And maybe you shouldn’t have said that, but it’s still not too late to end this — to push him away and say no, this isn’t right. It’s not too late to head to bed and forget any of this ever happened, but the way he’s twirling you around to push you over the marble countertop might be a step too far and damn sure too late.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be so fucking sorry,” a singular hand is peeling your lounge shorts down, down, down your plush thighs until there’s nothing but a pool of silky fabric surrounding your ankles, baring your syrupy folds, “spread those fuckin’ legs for me like a good, obedient girl. Let me see how wet that sloppy pussy is.”

With your face snug against the marble, all you can manage is a weak, fruitless gasp of his name, the warmth of your frantic breaths condensing the frigid countertop. You’re craning your head to the side, rising to the palms of your hands to observe the burly man that looms behind you. Fuck, he’s going to kill you.

He simpers, trailing several, curious fingers from your swollen clit allll the way down to your visibly tightening hole which drools endlessly. Pearlescent gossamers of arousal cling to the pads of his fat digits, kissing his skin in a beautiful sheen of your bountiful essence. The warm, abrupt stretch of his careless fingers as they sink deeeeep inside of your slobbering hole is peerless, prying your jaw open in a pretty, guttural moan — so raw and primal and all for him.

“Thaaat’s it, let me hear you, girl… sound even prettier up close,” he’s leaning down to better observe your desperate wails of rapture, pressing his clothed cock against the rear of your bare ass in the process, “got me fucking my hand like an idiot to the sound of you. How rude is that?” His breath hot and laden with lust against the crook of your neck.

Another wanton moan is belting from your gaped mouth at his confession. You can hardly help the pathetic buck of your hips, weakly fucking yourself against the stocky hand that cups your pretty pussy. The gnawing stretch of his fingers set your skin ablaze and yet, it’s not enough. You need more.

“Just f-fuck me… please? Before he gets home.” God, you are so fucking cute, bottom lip quivering in… fear? Anticipation?

Toji frowns feigndly. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared now, sweet girl?” A warm, calloused palm is splaying across the thick of your hip, pulling you closer to the edge of the marble. “Sure doesn’t feel like it…” he taunts, dragging his fingers out of you to smear your prolific arousal between your swollen lips and the slit of your ass, soon bringing them up to your stupidly gaped mouth, “doesn’t it taste like it either, huh?” He prompts you to taste yourself, his long, drooling digits hanging before your subconsciously parting lips.

And god, you could fucking cum right there, cunt throbbing embarrassingly around nothing but the fleeting memory of his fingers. You hardly have the time to loll out your tongue before he’s rudely stuffing his fingers into your warm, obedient mouth. A synchronous, drawn out moan echoing from both of your slacked jaws, yours muffled by his fat digits and his so careless and plainly conquered by his ineffable lust.

You hum contentedly around his thick fingers, cleaning your own arousal from them like the good whore he always knew you’d be. Drool spills from the corners of your lips and down his burly knuckles, coating his hand in an obscene mess of your sweet saliva. His fingers are deliberately creeping farther down your slutty little throat, forcing a proper gag from the pit of your core, more of your saliva consequently cascading down his palm.

Like the nasty slut he is, he’s pulling them out of your mouth, only to plop them inside of his own, sucking and drooling down those very digits, his cruel gaze holding yours. A guttural groan belts from the depths of his chest, sable eyes fluttering shut as he hums in satisfaction. Your mouth falls wide, jaw slacked as pretty little pants of incredulity pour from it, poor cunt aching in your ever growing arousal. What. The. Fuck.

“What? Nothing else to fuckin’ say, huh?” Those same fingers are running along your cunt once more, messily smearing the sinful amalgamation of married saliva. They’re sweeping across your swollen clit before slowly sinking back inside of you, preparing you. “Always talkin’ so much shit to me. Gonna shut you up real soon, sweetheart… swear to god.”

A stupid gasp parts your lips, stomach caving in arousal at the sound of him hastily slipping out of his plaid bottoms. A greedy hand is latching to the back of your right knee, pulling your leg up to pin it against the cool marble. The sight of your pretty pussy in all of her sloppy glory makes his cock twitch, the head dripping in sinful rivulets of pearlescent arousal.

You can barely stand the way he takes his cock into his fist, idly pumping his pretty erection, a slutty grin spreading across his scarred lips. From his girthy base allll the way to the fat, leaking head, he strokes himself, but not before swiping the pad of his thumb across the drooling opening, spreading his arousal down the expanse of his monstrous length. You fucked up. Royally.

“God,” you mumble, turning back around to stuff your face into the crook of your arm in utter horror, “god, I am s…so sorry.”

And he fucking laughs. Laughs at your apology; it’s loud and obnoxious and so clearly intended to piss you off because you’re not sorry, you’re scared and he knows it. He can see the way your body trembles atop the counter, drooling cunt shamelessly exposed with your leg hiked up so rudely. The way your big, pleading eyes widen in fear as he creeps closer. Even your futile attempt to scoot away when he begins to drag the head of his cock between both of your slutty holes, almost as if he can’t decide which to ruin first.

“Nuh uh… c’mere,” he nearly growls, impertinently pulling you back before him by the flimsy fabric of your night shirt, a disapproving grunt ensuing, “tryna run away from me, huh?” Two, large hands are groping the fat of your ass, brazenly spreading you apart. “Oughta’ teach you some fuckin’ manners… such a mean little thing. Hell’s wrong with you?”

The head of his cock rests so heavily against your sloppy hole, hot precum oozing against the mess of slick that adorns your pretty pussy. Toji slaps the dense head against your lips once. A droning, helpless mewl pours from your gaped mouth, only for him to do it again, and again, and again. A lewd and deafening plap! plap! plap! reverberates throughout the dimly lit kitchen, sticky gossamers of married arousal tethering you as one.

“Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he admits, briefly dipping the head of his cock inside of you, dragging a wanton whimper from your lips, “such a shame y’er so mean to me… would’ve had you like this years ago if not for that nasty little mouth of yours.” He’s sinking inside of you yet again, but only to pull out when he’s gone too deep.

If your father were to walk into this kitchen at this very moment, he’d be utterly appalled. Horrified. You’re writhing beneath him, hips bucking so sluttily against his teasing cock. God, you have never craved something so horribly in your life; you could just die from the sheer deprivation and it’s hilarious to him. He’s taunting you like it’s some cruel fucking game and he’s got the upper hand.

Again, he laughs. “Oh, you want it bad, huh?”

“Yes, fuck.” You growl, evidently frustrated.

“Awwww you mad, sweetheart?” He irritatingly coos, leaning down to press a wet, openmouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. “Is that poor pussy frustrated huh?” Another sloppy kiss between the valley of your shoulder blades, the head of his cock gliding between your glossy lips, spreading you apart. “Heh, she’s cryin’ for it, such a messy girl… drooling all over my cock like that.”

“Please,” it’s a broken, shameless plea as you crane your head, beautiful tears of desperation pricking your eyes, your pride somewhere so far gone, “pleasepleaseplease.”

A dark, breathy chuckle parts his lips, aching cock jerking against your awaiting hole. For years, he’s imagined you just like this — begging and crying for his cock like some insatiable whore. If anything, he’s denying himself; though, what’s left of his restraint quickly perishes at the sight of your sobbing hole tightening around nothing, kissing his shaft in a gleaming, warm mess.

He almost can’t help but to sink inside of you again, instead this time, he’s giving you everything, all of his twitching cock. The abrupt intrusion forces an incredulous gasp past your lips, a low, throaty groan dragging from his slack jaw in tandem. And just as he thought, your greedy pussy is swallowing his fat cock to the base effortlessly, almost as if it was hand tailored for you.

You’re fighting the gnawing urge to run — to clamber across the countertop and cower in fear, but you can’t fucking move. He’s got you pinned to the marble, a heavy hand at the rear of your neck, the other splayed across the thick of your hip, pulling you back onto his cock. It aches. The delirious stretch of his cock and how it steals your breath away, your mouth sagged, yet nothing is uttered. For once in your life, you’re speechless.

“Is this really all it takes, huh?” His hips are reeling back, the shiny essence of your arousal sheathing the entirety of his cock. “God, is this all it fucking takes to shut you up? A cock in this slutty little pussy, huhhh?” The bruising snap of his hips as he pummels forward nearly has you gushing down the length of him all too soon. “Answer me… and use your big girl words, c’mon sweetheart.” 

A loud, desperate gasp of air is all you can manage, bottom lip trembling as you attempt to say something, anything. The hand that holds your neck is threading throughout your mussed hair, forcing your gaze onto his and he can’t help but to laugh at your stupid expression — drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, thick brows knitted so tightly as your pretty eyes threaten to cross. Of course you can’t fucking speak, you’re drunk.

“My goodness, I wish you could see yourself… you’re so stupid on it,” he admires almost endearingly, a warm, mindless thumb grazing your bottom lip, “that perfect fucking face, god. You are so pretty taking it, such a goooood pretty slut for that cock, fuck.” The near possessive growl that belts from the depths of his lungs is like nothing you have ever heard — so filthy and shameless and ridden with his unbearable lust.

Toji is completely losing himself in the wet, endless abyss of pleasure that is you. Babbling nothing but loud, reckless praises, your pretty name spilling so willfully from his slutty tongue. He can hardly help the way he’s subconsciously jerking you back onto his cock. His big, greedy hands tighten so possessively around your pretty waist, meeting himself halfway. The obscene plap! of his achingly full balls beating up your quivering clit with each ensuing thrust.

“Thaaat’s it, you’re so good, that pussy is so fucking good… takin’ it soo deep for me.” He mindlessly blabbers, a large hand creeping beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sweeping across your soft, perspiring skin.

Every coherent thought you have ever had is long forgotten, poor mind completely barren. He’s the only thing you can hear, think, feel — the greedy hands that wordlessly command you, the warm stretch of his drooling cock as it wholly splits you apart. Even the fat, curious thumb that’s sinking inside of that other poor, neglected hole of yours is prying your lips open in a helpless mewl of pleasure.

“It’s sooo good… sooofuckingooood, oh my god.” You snarl, teeth bared and his jaw nearly unhinges — you sound so fucking pretty. “I love it, I love it, I loveee your c-cock.”

“Yeaaah, sweetheart?” He coos, heavy head deliriously falling back to dangle between his broad shoulders. “God, you needed this, didn’t you? Look at your hips buck like such a nasty slut.” A loud, ear splitting smack! lands against the fat of your ass. “Do you dream about it after you fuck yourself and cum all over my clothes, huh?” Another smack! to the other cheek, your poor cunt consequently squeezing down the base of his cock. “No fucking shame either.”

You possess half the brain to respond, not sure whether to shake your head or nod, too far gone to even make sense of anything anymore. Moan after unrestrained moan spill from both of your raptured tongues, the two of you sharing a few synchronous gasps of air or delirious cries of overwhelming pleasure. It’s the most debauched, yet utterly erotic thing you have ever experienced, but then, there’s a loud, roaring voice that’s stilling Toji’s hips.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Fuck.

© fushiguho.

[willowsnook]

Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

[xiaomainlmao]

Kinich x reader

----------

Kinich always believed that he had to do things on his own. A tough negotiator, he knows better than anyone else that all things come at a price. Thus, to avoid being indebted to anyone, he preferred doing things on his own from a very tender age.

Some people don't like him because he always charges mora for his services- he's aware, but he never bothered with the opinions of others. There's only a select few for whom he would do favours for "free", if he feels like it that is. (And even then, "free" just means without mora, but in return for other valuables or acts of service like with Mualani or Kachina).

Thus, even when he saw the commission with "unknown details" and with a "threat potentially greater than a few rabid saurians", he did not bother asking for more details, or bringing anyone to back him up.

Bad decision, he realises, pushed to a corner by abyssal beasts. The "rabid saurians" he had to take out, had already been taken out. A small group consisting of yumkasaurs and koholasaurs slaughtered by the mimiflora, who now took on the form of the dead beasts.

An abyssal pylon must be nearby, the frequency of the monsters confirms it, but it doesn't seem to be in plain sight.

"Ah your foolishness will finally lead to your doom! This HAS to be the moment I, the Great Dragonlord K'uhul Ajaw, have been waiting for. Now rejoice! For once I have taken over your mortal form, I shall grant you the mercy of avenging you." The pixelated being floats higher into the sky, perhaps to get a better view of Kinich's current predicament.

"You talk too much." Kinich growls, not sparing even a glance to Ajaw, long used to his antics.

He effectively shields himself with his greatsword from another one of the beast's attacks while another tries to claw at his abdomen. He wasn't caught off-guard by the number of enemies, merely outwitted. In any other situation, all he had to do was destroy the pylon, and defeat the remaining beasts.

If only the pylon were in sight...

Kinich barely dodges the yumkasaur that leaps at him, his braids coming undone. He's panicking a bit now, being reminded of the time he died in the Night Warden Wars, but he doesn't intend to retreat, not yet.

If only the pylon were in sight....

"Lean backwards! Quick!"

He hears a voice, and instinctively obeys. However, he isn't sure if he moved in time, as he feels a warm liquid seeping through his pants near his calf.

Blood.

With his leg injured, he's bound to be held back even more now. Kinich gazes down at his bleeding leg, and lifts his head just in time to see shards of ice appear in front of him, creating a barrier between him and the mimiflora.

"Delivery for 'Malipo' Kinich! Chief Wayna told me you'd be here. You were gone for longer than usual, and he started getting antsy." You used your rope to swing to Kinich's side, a small smile on your face and your polearm in tow.

"UggHH YOU MEASLY INSECT! HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT THE PROCESS THROUGH WHICH I COULD HAVE ATTAINED THIS GRASSHOPPER'S MORTAL FORM." A very red Ajaw slowly descended downwards to where the both of you stood, causing you to chuckle.

"My apologies, Great Dragonlord," you tease, "but it's not over yet."

"There has to be an abyssal pylon nearby, I just don't know where," the saurian hunter states, bracing himself for the approaching mitachurl.

"Ah yeah, those things. It's up there." Kinich follows your gaze and notices the tiny blackhole hidden behind a foliage. "Ah, so that's why he didn't notice it."

"You're injured. You probably won't be able to stand the attacks." You quickly assess his stumbling form.

"No I ca-"

"Deal with the pylon, I'll deal with the monsters." With a quick spin of your polearm, you charge at the mitachurl, swiftly cutting through its mask before using your cryo vision to freeze the surrounding hilichurls in place. Kinich watches your stable form hindered by his bangs. A bead of sweat dripping down to his chin.

"You lowly SERVANT. Are you really just going to stand here? Make a choice you dimwit." Ajaw screeches.

The saurian hunter regains his composure at this, quickly flicking his hair to the side and using his grappling hooks to reach the branch. He glances at your fighting form one last time before dealing with the pylon.

The cries of the hilichurls dies down almost immediately. Relaxing, Kinich stumbles down to the ground, realising the weakness in his legs. And his bleeding wound. He sighs as you approach him.

"What do you want in return for saving me?"

You don't reply, instead you kneel down by his side to assess his leg. "Here, let me cool it down." Cryo energy flows around the blood-stained claw marks, making the hunter hiss in pain.

"Give me your hand, I'll take you back to the tribe. Cryo isn't the best substitute for an ice-pack."

"No, it's alright. I'll get back on my own. I don't want to be indebted to anyone."

"Hmm..." placing a hand on your chin, you pretend to think as a smile creeps up on your face. "You asked me if I wanted something in return, correct?"

"Yes?"

"Well, in return for saving your life, I would like for you to listen to me and let me help you."

"But that would only make me more indebted to you-"

"I'm not really seeking for anything in return. But since you don't take things for free, I'm asking for your compliance."

"..."

"Please, Kinich. Help me help you."

Sighing, he takes your outstretched hand, letting you take the lead back to the tribe.

"HAH. So my lowly servant decides to succumb to someone else. SO MUCH for not taking favours. Hey wait- ARE EITHER OF YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME. DON'T LEAVE ME BEHIND YOU MORTALS."

Well, that's another headache for Kinich to deal with- finding a way to repay you.

----------

Thank you for motivating me into writing a Kinich fic <3 @aurumalatus

----------

[insidekatmind]

When everyone's asleep-Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18,smut, english is not my first language.

The night had fallen on John B’s cottage, enveloping everything in a silence broken only by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of waves in the distance. John B and Sarah had taken refuge in their room, leaving the rest of you to settle down in the kitchen, which had been converted into a makeshift camp. Thin mattresses and blankets spread on the floor welcomed Kiara, Cleo and JJ, already immersed in a deep sleep.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. You felt your heart beat faster than normal, but it wasn’t the waves or the wind that shook the windows. It was him. Pope.

He was lying beside you, his face relaxed as he pretended to sleep. But you knew him too well. You noticed the way his hand barely moved, looking for yours under the shared blanket. A slight smile curled your lips as you let your fingers intertwine.

"Don’t you sleep?" he whispered, his voice a breath in the silence.

"And you?" you replied in a similar tone, the smile evident even in the dark.

The others were all too tired to notice what was going on between you. Pope came a little closer, his warm breath caressing your cheek.

"You’re the one keeping me awake," he admitted, with a glimmer of malice in his dark eyes that you could glimpse in the dim light.

"I didn’t do anything," you replied quietly, trying to keep an innocent tone.

But it wasn’t entirely true. The tension between you had been building up for days, weeks perhaps. You were always close, but lately every touch, every look seemed to carry a deeper meaning.

"You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. I just look at you," said Pope, the sincerity in his voice making your heart beat even faster.

You did not answer, but let your face draw near to his until your lips touched. It was a soft kiss, almost shy, but the way Pope drew you closer made all doubts vanish. His hand gently laid on your cheek, his thumb drawing imaginary lines on your skin.

"They’re sleeping," you murmured against his lips, your hands clinging to his shirt.

"I don’t care," he replied, the voice charged with a sweetness that made you tremble. "I’ve waited too long for this."

The kiss grew deeper, and each touch seemed to set the air between you. Your hand slid down his chest, feeling the muscles tense under the cloth, as he left a trail of caresses along your side.

"Pope..." his name slipped away in a whisper, a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

"Shh..." he silenced you, his smile lighting up his face. "You must say nothing."

It was not easy to remain silent with the way his lips explored your skin, descending down your neck. You would sometimes glance at others, but they were completely unaware of what was happening. JJ snored slightly, while Cleo and Kiara were wrapped in their blankets, lost in their dreams.

"Promise you won’t regret it tomorrow," you whisper, biting your lower lip as his eyes met yours.

"The only thing I would regret is not having done it," said Pope, his voice full of determination.

Your heart seemed to explode at those words, and you let the moment overwhelm you. It was risky, crazy, but every second with him made you feel alive like never before.

As the night continued, it seemed that the world outside the chalet had vanished, leaving only you two, your whispers and kisses exchanged, as if the rest did not matter.

Pope’s breath deepened as your lips continued to search for each other, hungry but slow at the same time, as if you wanted to savor every second of that stolen moment. His hands gently slid on your hips, drawing you closer.

"Come here," he whispered with a thread of voice, and before I could answer, you felt his strong hands guiding you, gently sliding on him.

Your heart seemed to beat so fast that it could wake up others, but at the time you didn’t care. His hands were on your sides, holding you with the right pressure, while his gaze was lost in yours.

"You’re amazing, you know?" Pope whispered, his tone loaded with a sweetness that made you melt.

You looked down, a shy smile curving your lips. "You shouldn’t say that so often, I could get my head blown."

"I’ll stop saying that when you stop driving me crazy," he replied, a flash of fun in his eyes before drawing you back to himself.

The kiss became more intense, and your body instinctively responded to his. You felt the warmth that emanated, the way in which his hands explored the curve of your back, going up and down with a delicacy that contrasted the obvious desire that you felt growing between you.

"Pope..." whispered against his lips, your hands clinging to his back, trying to balance.

"Tell me," he replied, his voice low and crusty, as his fingers brushed the skin of your bare side.

"If anyone wakes up..." you started, but his lips settled on yours again, interrupting you.

"They won’t wake up," he assured with a mischievous smile, his eyes shining bright as they were looking for yours. "And even if they did, I don’t care. I want you."

Those words made you shiver, and without thinking too much, you let go completely. Your hands moved towards his face, caressing his jaw as your lips continued to move in perfect harmony.

Sometimes you would glance at others, but their sleep seemed deep and peaceful. JJ was curled up under a blanket with a peaceful expression on his face, while Cleo and Kiara were not even making the slightest movement.

"See? Everything under control," Pope whispered, noticing your worried look.

"You’re too sure of yourself," you replied, trying to keep a firm tone, but the smile that formed on your lips betrayed your true mood.

"Only when it comes to you." His words left you breathless, and you felt the need to reciprocate the gesture. You bent down again to him, your lips finding his neck, leaving light kisses that made him barely shake.

"You’re torturing me," Pope muttered, his voice broken by pleasure as his hands clenched even tighter on your hips.

"I didn’t think you were so sensitive," you joked, but the smile on your face turned into a slight moan as he decided to counter-attack, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made you tremble.

The moment seemed eternal, a mix of audacity and desire that completely enveloped you. For a moment you forgot everything: the chalet, the others, the possible consequences. There was only you and him, the dark accomplice of that night, and the desire to continue discovering every nuance of each other.

Your movements started almost without thinking about it, slow and uncertain at first, but soon the need to feel more, to be closer to him, took over. Move your hips against him, creating a slight friction but enough to make him jump under you.

"Y/N..." Pope whispered at your lips, the tone charged with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

You noticed the way he clenched his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a moan that could have broken the silence of the chalet and attracted the attention of others. But the way his hands clung to your hips made you realize how much it was making him lose control.

"Is something wrong?" you asked with a whisper, a mischievous smile curving your lips as your hands flowed on his shoulders.

"You... know it exactly," he replied with a clenched teeth, a flash of fun mixed with desire in his eyes.

You kept moving, your hips following a slow but steady pace, while he tried to keep control. His hands guided you, holding you tight enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes, but never too much to be intrusive.

"You’re incredible," he muttered, interrupting the kiss to stare at you with eyes that shone in the twilight.

"You’re not bad yourself," you joked, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He bent forward, his lips finding your neck, and this time did not hold back. He left a more determined, almost possessive kiss, followed by a trail of light bites that made you shiver. Your movements became more fluid, more natural, while his breath became irregular.

"If you keep this up, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to hold back," Pope whispered in a husky voice as his eyes settled on yours with an intensity that made you tremble.

"Who told you I want you to hold back?" you said with a whisper of voice, your hands sticking in her hair.

The way his body reacted to those words was enough to make you realize how close it was to the limit. He moved just below you, trying to make more contact, while his lips returned to urgently seek yours. Every kiss was an unspoken promise, an invitation to let go completely.

For a moment, you forgot where you were. There was no longer the risk of being caught, or awareness of how risky what you were doing. There were only you and him, lost in a vortex of emotions that seemed to grow with every movement, every whisper, every kiss.

You started to lower your pyjamas and thongs and then do the same thing with his shorts and boxer shorts. Pope was already shirtless and having Pope all naked and needy under you was a sight.

You joined your lips with hers while you lined up your pussy on her cock and sank in it while trying not to moan. Pope was going crazy: your pussy was squeezing his dick and the fact that he couldn’t moan was killing him.

Your lips kept searching for hers with increasing urgency, the kisses getting deeper and more messy, while the heat between you increased inexorably. Your movements on his hips became more determined, the rhythm you followed sent shivers down your back and, judging by the way Pope clenched his jaw, also along his.

"God, Y/N..." He whispered with a thread of voice, his hands clenching even more on your hips, as if trying to control what was happening, but without really being able to. " You’re riding me so well"

Every movement of yours was a sweet torment, and you felt it in the way his breath became more and more irregular, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again and looking for yours.

"Pope..." you murmured, his name coming out almost like a moan as you felt the growing warmth between you. Your hands clung to his hair, the touch that seemed the only way to anchor yourself in reality as you lost yourself in him.

"You’re playing with fire," he said in a hoarse voice, the tone that had a warning note, but his smile betrayed how much he loved everything that was happening.

"I see you more than comfortable with the fire," you replied, your voice a mixture of provocation and desire.

Pope laughed softly, a muffled sound to not wake up the others, but immediately after his lips returned to yours, hungry, as if he needed that touch to breathe. Each of his kisses was deep, slow and incredibly intense, and the way his hands held you made you feel wanted in a way that you had never felt before.

Your movements became more natural, as if your bodies spoke a language you had never learned but instinctively knew. Every touch, every pressure created a crescendo of emotions that left you breathless.

"I can’t think of anything but you right now," Pope confessed, his voice broken by pleasure as his gaze waned into yours.

Those words made you melt, and you returned with a long kiss and full of feeling, your hands slipping down her back, wishing the moment never ended.

"Neither did I," you replied in a whisper, your foreheads touching as you both tried to catch your breath.

The sound of a slight movement from the sofa made you freeze for a moment. You both turned your head towards JJ, who turned under the blanket, mumbling something in her sleep.

You both held your breath, holding up a nervous laugh when he showed no other signs of awakening. Pope looked at you with a complicit smile, the desire in his eyes now mixed with a touch of fun.

"You’re too dangerous," he quipped softly, putting one hand on your back and moving closer to him again.

"Yet you don’t seem to want to stop," you replied with a mischievous smile, your lips resting on hers again in a long and sweet kiss. And as palpable as the risk was, neither of you seemed willing to give up that stolen moment.

You started rolling your hips on his cock feeling how his dick went on your g-spot and you lowered your head biting his neck not to chase the moan that was coming out of you while he left a small moan at impact.

"shit y/n" he murmured as you left him sucking his neck, leaving a mark. " you’re my death" said Pope as he put your hands on your ass and squeezed it to make you move more against him.

You bit the inside cheeks of your mouth not to groan but always small groans were coming out so Pope joined his lips with yours swallowing all the groans.

"you’re holding it so well to me" I whispered near your lips and then kissed you again while you groaned.

You both came to the climax and Pope cum inside of you while you were still kissing.

After a while you recovered you adjusted and fell asleep hugged.

The next day you were all out and only JJ was still sleeping. When he came out, he seemed amused." Guys I had a strange dream... I dreamed that someone was fucking while I was sleeping, what a cool thing" said JJ amused and unaware of everything.

You and Pope looked at each other and were holding back a laugh amused.

[lumitoiile]

zhongli : [fleeting.]

☆ — tw! + content: by the time the lord of geo even comes to terms with his feelings, it's already far too late... angst, themes of d3.th. gn! reader (no pronouns.)

throughout the extended course of his life, zhongli has long since learned to appreciate the beauty in all things—even the temporary ones. 

the way the leaves fall from trees, the glow of lanterns at night, the way the wind breezes through the streets of liyue harbor... all things that would eventually come to pass, eroding away with time. mortals were very much the same. he has walked alongside them, observed them, and let them go, as is the way of the world.

then you came along.

you weren't the first human to intrigue him, but there was something bewildering about your presence in his life. perhaps it was how you treated him so unguardedly, never hesitating to share your thoughts, your laughter, your kindness.

you worked at a small tea shop he frequented, and though he'd initially visit for the quality of the tea, he found himself returning for another reason entirely. he told himself it was simple admiration, an appreciation for your warmth and the light you brought into the lives of others. but deep down, he knew he couldn't be fooled.

there was something different about you. something he could never fully place. it gnawed at the edges of his mind, bothering him in ways that defied his understanding. you would smile at him with an openness that felt disarmingly sincere, and speak to him with an ease he'd only ever known among those closest to him in his long, distant past.

it was troubling. dangerous. even in his mortal guise, he should have known better than to allow such feelings to grow.

so he kept his distance. you were temporary, after all; a fleeting thing. even when you would reach out with a friendly invitation or make a small effort to draw him closer, he would find an excuse to step back. to draw a line, to remind himself who he was... and what you were.

he decided he would simply admire you from afar, steadfast in his resolve and having convinced himself he was doing the right thing. what would come of permitting himself to indulge? only heartache and loss, things he had seen unfold countless times before.

there was one day when you had lingered by his table a bit longer than usual, a hopeful look in your eyes. "mister zhongli, would you care to join me on a walk? my shift ends soon, and the sunset is just lovely at this hour."

he hesitated, a flash of warmth stirring in his chest at the thought alone. he could almost picture it, walking with you, sharing a quiet moment alone together as the sun dipped below the horizon.

but he would not let himself yield. he cleared his throat, offering an apologetic smile. "i appreciate the offer, but i have business to attend to."

you nodded once and tried to hide the disappointment in your eyes. but he saw through you, and the sight lingered with him long after he left the tea shop.

still, no matter how many times he had refused you, your kindness never wavered. as the years passed by, you continued to reach out in small ways—a shared story, a cup of tea specially brewed just the way he liked, an invitation to join you on an evening stroll. sometimes he accepted, allowing himself brief moments of joy and companionship.

but he always maintained a wall between the two of you, an invisible barrier he felt he could not cross. he constantly reminded himself that it was for the best; you were human, he had told himself, incredibly fragile. it would be cruel to impose on your life, no matter how brief it might be. the least he could do was ensure that your world remained free of his interference.

but time moved on, as it always does.

your laughter grew quieter, your once sure steps slower. zhongli saw the signs and felt the familiar pang of inevitability. he watched as you grew older, the years etching lines of wisdom into your face and leaving your loud, bright voice soft with age, until one day... you simply weren't there.

he visited the tea shop for the first time in ages, only to receive confused looks and strange stares upon asking for you. who was he referring to? there was no one here by that name, they had said. no one they knew of.

you were gone.

loss was not a new experience for zhongli. though it wasn't until he reached the place where your ashes had been scattered—a spot up in the mountains overlooking the harbor—that he truly understood the finality of it all. there would be no more lingering glances, soft smiles, or warm invitations to walk with you and admire the sunset. he would never again see the way your eyes lit up when you'd greet him hello, or hear your laughter.

the regret sank in like a stone, unyielding and overwhelming. he had anticipated this. he thought he had prepared himself for this. but the painful ache in his chest grew into something sharp, something that twisted with every breath he took.

he knelt there, reflecting on every opportunity he had missed, the words he never expressed, the warmth he had turned away from. he told himself it was for the best, that he was doing what was right... that a god had no business falling for a mortal. yet here he was, mourning you with a grief so profound it left him hollow.

"i thought this was the answer," he said, his words disappearing into the gentle breeze. "i believed i could spare myself this pain by keeping you at arm's length. but perhaps... i was a fool."

the wind rustled gently around him, offering a small sense of comfort. he closed his eyes and allowed the ache to settle within him. he stayed there for what must have been hours, grieving quietly as cherished memories of you played in his mind. in that moment, he realized that there had been no safety in the distance he kept, no way to avoid the torture of your absence.

and as the sun faded below the mountains, casting the harbor in hues of gold and amber, he had finally declared the words he had never spoken aloud.

"i cared for you," he whispered. "more than i should have. more than you knew..."

the wind carried his words away, fading into the stillness of the world. morax, the god of contracts, had lost something he could never retrieve—not with all the wealth and wisdom in the world.

perhaps in another life, he could have loved you properly.

© lumitoiile. please do not copy, steal, translate, or edit my work.

[puck-luck]

Like Hughes, prompt 1, hearts… I was thinking maybe she’s having a bad day and talking about her brain just not shutting up something along those lines lol

warnings: oral fem receiving on a dining room table wc: 619

“I’m sorry, Lu. I know I’ve been talking about this for a while. You must be bored,” you say sheepishly, picking at the remaining food on your plate. 

“I’m not bored,” Luke replies. “I like listening to you talk, even if you’re just venting about how work sucked today. It’s up to you if you want to keep talking about it, babe.”

“I’m sure I could talk about it forever,” you grumble. “I just hate how in my head I get over the stupidest mistakes and interactions. I know it’s not that deep, but I get so wigged out.” You stab at the pile of green beans with your fork. “I wish there was some way where I could just turn off my mind when I don’t want to use it.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow at you. “You think?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. You shrug. “It gets overwhelming to be in my brain, sometimes. It would be nice to quiet it down.”

Luke looks at you for a moment too long. “I have an idea for that,” he says. He clears his plate, then yours. 

“Luke, I wasn’t done eating,” you complain.

“I’ll reheat it for you if you’re still hungry after.” He leaves his plate in the sink, but places yours in the refrigerator. Then, he walks back over to you, taking your hand and guiding you out of the chair. He moves your utensils and glass of water to the floor, away from your feet. “You trust me?” He asks, thumbing over your bottom lip.

“‘Course,” you reply. “Always.”

Luke smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Good.” He backs you up against the table, trapping you. You hop up onto the ledge, sitting back more comfortably as Luke towers over you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your face, cradling your jaw as he leans down to kiss you until your chest is heaving and your cheeks are flushed. “I’m gonna fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head,” Luke says like he’s swearing on his grave. “But first, I’m going to eat my dessert.”

You feel a bit lightheaded and hot as he gets to his knees, undressing your lower half. His hands rake over your exposed thighs, tickling your flesh and groping the particularly meaty sections in his hands. Luke kisses over the inside of your thighs, the sensitive areas marked with suction mark after suction mark– they’ll all fade by tomorrow, so you can’t call them hickeys. He’s so sweet about the way he teases you, which lasts until you’re unable to wait any longer. You stammer out a plea for him to do more, unsure if you’re in a space where Luke will grant your requests.

His eyes lock with yours and a smirk covers his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he inches forward, sticking his tongue out when he gets close enough and flicks the tip over your clit. He’s not close enough for it to be anything more than a tease, but the touch already has you whimpering and trying to move your hips closer to his tongue. 

Instead of chastising you for being so greedy, Luke buries his face in your cunt. He went from nothing to everything at once– making you cry out. Your hands fly to his hair. Luke just closes his eyes and nuzzles into your pussy, his tongue working overtime against your clit. One of his fingers has started to trace slowly around the rim of your entrance, although he refuses to enter. 

He seems hell-bent on making your pleasure wash all over his fingers well before they even enter you– you’re in for a long night.

[sturnioloszn]

MARKED - C.S

summary; you get a new tattoo, and chris has to show you just how much he loves it...

warnings; smut, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap the willy), dirty talk, praise, cream pie, hair pulling.

a/n; sorry it took me literally foreverrrr to get a fic out, i did post one, but i actually hated it w every fibre in my being, so... it got cut. whoops. anywayyy, enjoy this one lmaooo.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

I laid on my stomach, with my skin flush against the black leather of the tattoo table when the loud buzzing of the tattoo gun came to a sudden halt and broke me from my daydreams.

"Alright, you're done. I can't believe you did it with no breaks, you're insane," Sam, my tattooer spoke from behind me, gently cleaning and wiping the remaining ink off.

"It's wasn't too bad," I chuckled, peering over to Nick, who shoved his phone in his pocket and leaned over to get a clear look at the finished product.

After what felt like years, I finally sat up from the chair and kept my hands firmly on my shirt to make sure it wouldn't slip and I'd accidently flash a titty, since it was completely open in the back.

I stood up and walked over to the full sized mirror in the corner of the room and stared at my new decoration in awe. I loved it. It was perfect.

"Okay, so since this is a pretty big tattoo, I'll try wrap it as best as possible, but it'll probably start to peel in no time," Sam spoke, following me to the mirror with the wrapping.

Nick and I eventually pay and hop into an Uber to bring us back to his place. "Soo, do you like it?" Nick asks, turning to look at me.

"I don't like it, I LOVE it. He did an amazing job," I complimented, looking down at Nick's new addition to his tattoo collection too.

"I told you Sam is the best," He bragged.

The ride to the house wasn't long at all, but sure enough, the wrapping of my tattoo was already peeling and coming undone. I decided to peel it off completely and just try to deal with it, trying to not cause an infection.

I was so excited to show off my new tattoo that the second Nick unlocked the front door, I sprinted up the stairs into the living room where I found Matt sprawled comfortably on the couch, lazily scrolling on his phone.

"Hey kid, how was it?" He asks, momentarily looking up from his phone.

"It was amazing, wanna see?" I ask with a happy grin plastered on my face. Before even waiting for him to reply, I lifted the back of my shirt up and turned to show him my back.

"Holy shit, it's massive," he says. I crack an immature joke before gloating about the fact that I didn't take a break not once. At this point, Nick had joined Matt on the couch, and they began to discuss his new tattoo aswell but I'm overflowing with excitement to show Chris mine.

"Is Chris in his room?" I ask, receiving a small nod from Matt in reply. I skip my way downstairs to his bedroom and push the door open without even knocking.

I found Chris hunched in his gaming chair, eyes locked on the screen in front of him, with his headset over both ears. He must've not heard me and Nick come in. I sneakily crawled up behind him, placing my two hands on his shoulders.

He jumped out of his skin but instantly relaxed when he realised it was my touch. "Heyyy, you're back," He says, taking his headset off and standing up to place a delicate kiss on my lips and wrap his long arms around my torso.

"Wanna see it?" I ask, jumping out from his embrace. I can't help the smile from returning onto my face, feeling the dopamine course through my veins.

I once again turned to show him my tattoo before even earning his reply to my question. After a few moments of silence, I turn back around, worried about what expression I'd find on his face.

"Do you... like it?" I hesitatantly ask. However, his expression doesn't falter except that he's now looking into my eyes.

"Do I like it?" He repeats, taking slow but profound steps towards me, filling my surroundings entirely with his presence. "I fucking love it, it's so sexy," he whispers, now standing face to face with me.

He connects his palm to the side of my face and guides me closer to him, connecting our lips. Our kiss was passionate and meaningful until it wasn't. His lips roughly crashed into mine again, his tongue slipping in and out of my mouth with ease.

"Y'gonna let me fuck you and look at your new tattoo, hm?" He mutters, barely separating himself from me. I whine in return, letting him know that I need it more than he could imagine.

As he continues to bite and suck at my sore lips, his hands roam my body, slowly peeling off layers of my clothes. I'm eventually left in just my underwear, which he doesn't hesitate to discard, alongside the rest of my clothes.

"Ass up, face down, baby," he orders, quickly discarding his own clothes, littering them on the floor until we're equally as bare. I moved onto the centre on his bed, doing just what he asked; pressing my face into his mattress and arching my back so that my ass was in the air.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans, coming up behind me. I feel him grip my hips tightly before placing a few firm slaps on my ass, eleciting some yelps and moans from me.

Without warning, he slams his entire length into me, making me scream into the sheets. "Y'gotta be quiet baby, can't have Matt or Nick know how much you love my cock,"

My moans grow louder and louder as he ruthlessly rams me from behind, hitting that amazing spot that makes me feel like I'm in heaven.

"Sh-it, Chr-is, too mu-ch," I moan and whimper between his thrusts. His hands fall from my hips and move to my hair, gathering it together, forming a makeshift ponytail.

He yanks on my hair, pulling me up from the mattress, and sticks our two sweaty bodies together as he continues his solid pace.

"Fuck- you're so beautiful, love your new tattoo... looks so fuckin' good," he grunts. I feel my end drawing near, and with a few more harsh thrusts, I feel my orgasm crash over me. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and my pussy squeezes around his cock, begging for him to also finish. "..love how tight you are f'me, mh,"

He let's go of my hair, making me flop down back onto the mattress, and his hands find their way back to my hips, roughly grabbing them. He somehow snaps his hips even faster, making my second orgasm fast approaching. The headboard of the bed is banging against the wall, and there's no hiding what is happening anymore.

He snakes one of his hands around me, reaching over to my clit, rubbing it viciously. At this stage I've lost all self control and I release my fluids all over his cock for a second of time.

"Fuck! Just like that, come on my cock," He moans, filling me with his own release. His movements begin to slow, but he continues moving his hips, fucking his cum into me.

I feel him pull his limp cock out of me and stare at his work of art; our mixed fluids dripping out of my pussy and onto the sheets. The only sound heard now is our heavy breathing, which is desperately trying to return to normal.

-

After a few hours filled with cuddling and laughter, Chris and I decided to scavenge the kitchen for any food we could find, but as soon as we came up the stairs Matt and Nick stare at us from the couch.

"You could've just said you liked her new tattoo,we didn't all have to hear it," Matt grimaces, standing up and leaving, with Nick trailing his footsteps shortly after.

"Well... at least you know?" Chris jokes, turning to me. We break into laughter, and the rest of the night is filled with the same laughter and love.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; this is definitely better than the last fic i posted lmaoo, also my requests r open so feel free to leave some ideas! hope u enjoyed this, love you all <33

Taglist; @idrk2292 @clairesrose @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 7 - The Lion's Den

Chapter Summary - Y/N Is urged to meet with some of the other women involved in high society to gain some close friends and she decides to drag Mia with her. Y/N starts to realize the boys may not be as friendly as they seem.

warnings: mentions of murder, Seonghwa injures reader (MDNI)

Series Masterlist

It had been almost two weeks since I had started living with the boys. Yunho and Jongho were still pretty stand-offish, not really bothering to make conversation unless absolutely necessary. Yeosang however, had gotten better.

I figured he was shy from the start, but after I thanked him for filling my wardrobe he started asking simple questions like how my day was. It wasn't a lot, but it was progress.

Hongjoong and San had backed off a little, not actively seeking me out like the remaining three. Mingi, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung were a lot more social, Wooyoung would come and find me the second they'd come home during the workweek to tell me everything before I left for the Society, at least what he could tell me anyway.

Seonghwa's gifts hadn't stopped, however, they had broadened from simple Gardenias (Though he kept fresh ones on the dresser in my room for me). Mingi often played piano after dinner, sometimes, he'd play something from the show or past shows just to see me dance.

He always smiled so brightly when I would.

Seonghwa was the one who suggested I go to a ladies brunch over dinner. I'd glance around at the others who made no objection.

"Ladies Brunch?" I ask.

"All the women that our allies are involved with get together once a month for a ladies brunch. You should go." Seonghwa explains, bringing his fork to his mouth.

"Are there many?" I ask.

"Normally there's around 10 or 11, depending on who's available," Seonghwa says. "You could bring a friend if you like, maybe Mia?"

I nod at the mention of Mia. It would be good to see her again and catch her up on everything in person. Besides meeting other women, hopefully around my age, would probably do me some good. Maybe some of them could explain what the men actually did.

And that's why I agreed.

"You think any of them are like... Murderers?" Mia asks me as we sit in her family's limousine. "I mean, they're involved in families known to be involved in the mafia so.."

She wasn't wrong. After I had invited her, Mia had one of Marks's friends dig up some information about some of the women we'd be meeting. Jeno Lee was always pretty good at that.

Kazuko Takanashi was the fiancé to the CEO of the SVT Association, Choi Seungcheol. A large modeling and fashion company much like the one my father owned, their rival if you will. She was beautiful and worked as a model for their more expensive pieces. I assumed her husband-to-be would only allow it as such.

Park Minji was born into high society, her father running a car company. She was dating one of the leaders of SKZ Foundation, a military company, Seo Changbin. She didn't do much, but there were rumors that she was an excellent hacker.

Those were the only ones I could remember from the list, but I knew there were so many more. I recognized some of the companies, a little surprised some of them were still running.

We arrived at the club we were to meet at, one owned by the husband of one of the women we were to meet, Nari.

"Mia, don't say anything rude," I warn, getting out of the car.

"I'm not promising anything." She quips, following me.

We head inside, it's empty aside from the small group of maybe six women sitting at a long table, laughing and drinking already. I glance at Mia who looks back at me, gesturing with her head to go towards them.

I hesitate before approaching slowly. Kazuko was there, and Minji too. They looked so much friendlier in person. I clear my throat, causing one I didn't recognize to look up. She offers me a kind smile before standing.

"You must be Y/N!" She says, approaching the two of us. "And you're Mia Hua right?" Mia nods in response.

"I'm Kate. Come sit." She says, gesturing to some empty seats. "It's just us today, the others couldn't make it."

I take a seat beside Minji, her dyed blonde hair shimmering in the overhead light. Mia sits on my other side, shifting in her seat. Kate starts to introduce everyone, and my memory comes back to me; Minji, Jaehwa, Asami, Kazuko, Liv, and Kate herself. Easy enough.

I knew Asami was the oldest based on what I remembered. She was born into high society much like Minji however, she runs her own company, a tech company alongside a friend of hers, Taeyong.

Jaehwa was the younger sister of Nari, I knew she had joined the military for two years because she 'wanted to scratch an itch'. I could tell it paid off, her tan skin and muscular frame seemed oddly attractive.

Liv was a part of the TBZ Association, a law firm. I could tell she was studying me the minute I sat down, her eyes unmoving and unblinking as they stared me down. Like a predator hunting prey.

"So, ATZ Corp chose you huh?" Jaehwa asks, her voice deep. "I heard you're a dancer."

"Ballerina." I correct, noticing the quirk of Asami's eyebrow. "I'm a Ballerina for the Ballet Society."

Kazuko takes a sip of her drink. "I went to one of your shows, you're quite good." She says, glancing at me. There was something comforting about her words, yet I kept my guard up.

"What's the show?" Minji asks, her Australian accent thick.

"Coppèlia I'm pretty sure." Kazuko answers, leaning back in her seat.

"Never heard of it." Jaehwa says, elbow now propped up on the table.

I listen to the women talk. They seem friendly enough, and at least three of them are anyway. Asami looks at me before finally speaking.

"Something you wanna say?" She asks, her eyes boaring into mine. "If you have questions you can ask."

A part of me felt relieved she'd said that, opening a door for all the questions I'd had piled up to spill out. Kate gave me a reassuring look, nodding slightly for me to speak.

"I'm... It's been a long time since I've been in this life." I start. "It's all so different now.. And they guys won't tell me anything no matter how much I ask."

"It was like that for me too." Kazuko says. "I was born in the bronx. When I met Seungcheol, none of his friends or even him would tell me anything about what they did even though I grew up on the other end of it all."

I listened to her. These women had come from all different parts of society. Some are working their way up, and some are fighting to survive even now. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea.

"When Seungcheol asked me to marry him, I told him no unless he told me everything." Kazuko continues. "Eventually, he caved when he realised I was serious."

"So I threaten them?" I ask.

"Definitely don't do that!" Liv laughs, finally speaking. Her voice was sweet. Maybe she was just shy. "ATZ don't take nicely to threats."

"So what do I do?" I ask.

"Ask us." Kate says, reaching a hand over. "We won't hide anything from you."

I nod, taking a deep breath before glancing at Mia, who seems a little too invested now.

"Be honest with me. Do they hurt people?"

"Obviously, it's the mafia." Asami says. "We have to kill to keep those close to us safe. Greed is evil, and those who let it consume them will always try to take what isn't theirs."

I stare at Asami, and the bluntness in her tone causes goosebumps to coat my skin.

"The boys kill, yes, but most of the time it's business or for protection reasons. There's some corrupt companies out there, ones that kill the weak for sport. Like Belluxe." Kazuko spits, my head snaps to her hefore quickly composing myself. My fathers company? Killing for sport?

"After everything that happened with Aurora, I'm surprised they decided to let another one in." Jaehwa says, causing me to perk up at the name.

"You knew her?" I ask.

"Of course we did." Liv says, her eyes softening slightly. "I miss her sometimes... She was always a voice of reason."

"She was a fool." Asami says. "Stuck her nose in something she shouldn't have. That's what got her killed."

My blood ran cold at Asami's words. Her tone was so indifferent, like she was angry.

Aurora was killed? Because she was investigating something? But what?

"Asami!" Kate scolds.

"It's the truth!" Asami barks. "Nothing would have happened if she'd just-" Asami stops herself and lets out a sigh before standing. "Excuse me." She mutters, heading off in the direction of the bathroom.

"You'll have to excuse her." Minji says quietly to me. "She cares a lot more then she lets on."

"Aurora was killed?" Mia asks. I'd spoken to her about Aurora the night of my first day living with ATZ. She was just as curious as I was.

"She was investigating some suspicious activity even when Hongjoong told her not to." Jaehwa says. "She got too far in and ended up getting herself killed."

"What was the suspicious activity?" I ask, glancing at Kazuko.

"Do you remember the Cobra?" She asks us. Mia and I nod. The Cobra was a serial killer who caused some grief to a lot of businesses years back. He'd kill runners, undercover workers, and sometimes even leaders in gruesome ways to get his message across. His tell; all of his victims were found with poison in their system.

"But The Cobra disappeared when we were kids?" Mia questions.

"He came back. Briefly." Kate says.

"Well, there were rumours." Liv corrects. "That's what Aurora was investigating."

Aurora was trying to catch a serial killer and was killed when she got too close? Why didn't the boys tell me this? Was there more to it?

"Enough about Aurora." Jaehwa murmers as Asami returns.

The topic shifted rather quickly.

It was almost 6pm when I returned back to the estate. Seonghwa was sitting in the living room, waiting for my return.

"How was it?" He asks, not looking up from the book he was reading, Frankenstein.

"Enlightening," I answer, my tone indifferent. I was upset at them. I'd learned more from women I'd just met in a few hours than the 8 men I had been living with for almost 2 weeks.

The girls had told me all about their work, giving me some idea of what was going on in the basement as well as outside of the house that I probably would never see.

Seonghwa recognizes my tone and sighs, marking his page in his book before setting it down on the coffee table. He stands, moving in front of me now, staring down at me with a cold look.

"How much do you know?"

"Enough," I answer, staring back up at him, I hear footsteps thud to a stop behind me, whoever it was listening closely. "Funny how I can trust complete strangers more than the men I'm supposed to be with."

"If you don't trust us, why did you come back?" The voice, Hongjoong, says from behind me. I don't jump at his voice, only turning to look at him. I had nowhere else to go. The answer was as simple as that.

On the second day of my stay, I woke up to all my things from my old apartment tucked away in the corner of my room. Wooyoung had gone to collect my things and speak to my landlord that night, at least that's what he said.

"You know why," I say, my blood boiling at the teasing grin on his face. Here we go again, being laughed at. Maybe I should have stayed at Mia's tonight.

"Dinners ready!" Wooyoung calls out from the other room. "Is Y/N home?" He asks, poking his head out from behind the connecting archway.

"You could have told me she was killed." I blurt out, my gaze on Wooyoung but my words are aimed at all of them. "Did you think I couldn't handle it?" I say, looking up at Seonghwa once again.

"They told you?" Seonghwa asks, his voice low.

"Yes, because unlike you they recognize that I can handle myself." I snap, poking his chest. Big mistake. He snatches my wrist, gripping it tightly. My eyes widen and I try and pull away, Hongjoong and Wooyoung make no move to step in.

"You listen to me," Seonghwa says, his voice coming out as a growl. The gentleman I knew was long gone now. There was something sinister in his eyes as he looked down at me, the size difference suddenly feeling a lot larger the tighter he held my wrist. "You won't ask any more questions about what happened. You will not go investigating it yourself and you certainly will not ask others. That includes our housekeepers." He says quietly, his voice low and threatening.

I glance at Wooyoung, his face void of emotion as he watches from the archway. Shit.

"If I find out you have, you'll never step foot from this house ever again. Say goodbye to Mia, the Society, everything." He warns.

"Seonghwa." Hongjoong finally speaks up. Seonghwa's knuckles are white from how tightly he was gripping my wrist. "Let her go. She's gotten the hint." Hongjoong says, taking a step forward.

Seonghwa lets go and I pull back, bumping into Hongjoong. I jump away from him, backing up into the foyer. I stare back at them with wide eyes, clutching my wrist as they stare back at me. A sick feeling overcomes me as I mutter out three words before scurrying up the stairs.

"I'm not hungry."

Mingi had come upstairs to check on me a few hours later. He carried a plate of food in his hands and his expression adorned a pouty expression. Surprisingly, I let him in.

He sets the plate of food down on my dresser before taking a seat on the loveseat by the window.

"Wooyoung told us what happened." He says, holding his hand out and glancing down at my wrist. I hesitate for a moment before letting him take it. His touch was gentle as he examined the light bruise, his eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't think Seonghwa would ever hurt you.."

"Yeah, me too." I huff, looking down at the ground. "I guess I was wrong to trust you all so quickly."

"Trust is human nature, it's who we gift it to that could come with consequences." He says softly, moving his hand from my wrist and holding my hand in his. I feel some butterflies flutter in my stomach as he does. "I'll beat him up for you tomorrow if you want." He says, causing me to snort.

"There's no need." I laugh, squeezing his hand which makes his eyes sparkle. At least I still had Mingi. I let out a soft sigh, moving to sit beside him. "Why are you guys so hesitant to tell me about her?" I ask, staring at the floor.

"Some of us want to," Mingi says honestly. "But it's a sensitive topic." He adds.

"I understand that," I say. "But that doesn't mean I'm not curious. Why can't I look into her death? I know it has something to do with The Cobra." I look at him and he looks at me.

"Why do you say that like it's personal?" He asks, his deep voice breaking through the brief silence.

I hesitate again for a moment. "Because it is," I say. Maybe if I'm honest with him, he'll be honest with me. But I didn't want to tell him the whole story, it hurt too much to even think about.

Then the realization hit me.

That's why they didn't want to talk about Aurora. It was too personal. It brought feelings to the surface that they wanted to forget about. It made sense now, and a feeling of guilt settled in my stomach.

Mingi must have picked up on my conflict of emotions, as he cups my cheek to bring me back to him.

"I won't stop you from finding answers." He says softly. "But that doesn't mean the others won't try. And I can't protect you if that happens."

I nod in response. It's like he knew already, my mind went back to the night we first met. He'd known I grew up in high society, did he know what happened to Chaluai?

"Thank you," I whisper, our faces not resisting the magnetic pull.

"For what?" He murmurs, not pulling away as he glances down at my lips.

"For understanding," I say as our noses brush.

Then, our lips met. The kiss was featherlike like he was scared to hurt me any further. When we pull away, he rests his forehead on mine briefly.

"Give them time." He says softly, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb. "They'll stop taking you for granted eventually."

With that, he stands, pulling away from me slowly as if a part of him was telling him to stay.

I watch him as he heads towards the door, offering him a goodnight before he shuts the door behind him, leaving me in the silence of my thoughts once again.

taglist @bellaptv @arilevenatz @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @hecateslittlewitchling @neuviloved @monstacheol @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @vtyb23 @bigbabygremlin @professormingiglasses @pinuspot @astral-trashcan @ateezswonderland @joonhasjiminsjams @atzlordz @lightwxodd

[tinydefector]

Hooray!!! Omg i’m so happy lol. I’m definitely going to be smiling for the rest of my day. I finally had time to think about it and how about a platonic familial scenario with mtmte magnus and the ambassador on break and casually chatting, fluff please. let me know if you need more details, and take your time <3

(i’ve been having data problems so hopefully this ask sends through 😅)

Out of the bag - human effects

I had so much fun writing this Buddee and I hope you like it!.

Word count 1.6k

Ultra Magnus x human reader

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________________

The ambassador sat quietly working through files while on the desk, fingers pinching their temple as they re-read the text. A hot drink beside them as they worked. Ultra Magnus sat at the desk as he too worked. It would have been rather funny to look at, A large alien robot sitting at his desk working while his co-worker who was much smaller sat on the same desk on their own seat with a desk. They looked almost like they were a toy figure. 

They take a sip of their drink and roll their shoulders slightly. "Please tell me I don't have to fix another 15 files of Rodimus getting side tracked again and typing out random words like Chinchilla?" They mumble almost like a pray.

Ultra Magnus cycled a weary ex-vent, field rippling with long-suffering patience. "I'm afraid so, Ambassador. The captain seems...incapable of submitting forms in any semblance of proper order." He pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, nearly the same pose as them. an unmistakably human mannerism picked up from long acquaintance. "At this rate, reconciling his haphazard paperwork will occupy the majority of your work cycle."

Magnus observed the ambassador's flagging energy levels with mild concern. "Perhaps you should take a brief respite. Overexerting yourself serves no purpose - I can handle the captain's responsibilities for the time being."

His tone, while stern, held an undercurrent of genuine care. Despite their differences, he cared deeply for the ambassador; their well-being remained in everyone's best interests. 

"The schedules can wait. I suspect you've had enough excitement for one orn already." A hint of dryly amused. "I'll be alright Magnus, Just got a headache and sore. Really wasn't planning on dealing with reports, but it beats having to do holovids with Prowl, I want to strangle that mech some times." They reply leaning back in their seat, bringing their drink up and holding it in their hands as they close their eyes for a moment.

Prowl's combative nature makes diplomatic discourse a...trial, to say the least." He cycled another heavy ex-vent. "Though I must say, your own entanglements have proven equally...taxing, of late." Magnus leveled them with a pointed look, with a hint of mild disapproval.

"I trust you understand the risks involved, consorting so closely with the crew. Propriety and protocol exist for good reason - to maintain order and prevent compromising our mission." 

Yet beneath the stern admonishment, a thread of genuine concern shone through. "I only caution you to tread carefully, little one. The games played aboard this ship can be...treacherous, for those caught unawares."

His gaze softened marginally. "I would not see you come to harm, simply for wishing to find companionship in these trying times. Despite what you and others may think i do care about you" 

Embarrassment slowly works its way into their system as they look down as if they were a child who just got caught stealing something. "How.. how did you" they start not knowing how to continue talking. "Come now, Ambassador - did you truly think your...activities would escape my notice?" Magnus replied, a hint of wryness in tone.

He shook his helm slightly. "I may be strict, but I'm not blind. The signs were...quite evident.” Leaning back in his chair, Magnus fixed the ambassador with a measured look. "I'll not lecture you on proper conduct - Primus knows life aboard this ship is complicated enough as it is." Attempting to soothe their clear discomfort. "However, I must urge caution. Entanglements with subordinates."

They continue to look down for a moment processing his words. "I know, I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone, it just sort of happened. Told Ratchet that it was to stay on the down low, and Ratchet had the same concern about risk, he wanted to make sure if something did happen with other bots outside of him and Drift that i had someone to trust if something happened. I was just worried that if you, Rodimus or Megatron found out. My job was gone" they mumble, they were filled with so much anxiety and panic over the situation only for the mech they feared the most about it to just say he knew. 

Magnus cycled a heavy vent. "I see. That...explains certain observations, I must admit." He rubbed a servo over his faceplate. "Ratchet and Drift, of all mechs. I confess, I had not anticipated that particular entanglement."

Fixing the ambassador with a level stare, Magnus continued, "However, you needn't fear repercussions from myself or the others." A hint of wryness entered his tone. " We've all been there, at one point or another." 

They let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you Magnus, and I'm making sure to look after myself. Woah just wasn't expecting to be having this conversation with you is all. You have no idea how much fear I had about you finding out about my um.. 'activities'. You bots aren't exactly subtle about your 'human fucker' content  " they state before slowly having another mouthful of their drink.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand your concern. confess, even I am not entirely immune to the temptations that arise. However, I endeavor to maintain strict protocols."  Magnus continued solemnly, "I cannot - and will not - control the personal affairs of my crew. That is a burden I do not wish to bear."

A hint of wryness entered his tone. "Though I must admit, the antics of Megatron and Rodimus have certainly tested my patience on more than one occasion. They are both very fond of you"

“I had a feeling they were. Magnus you being tempted, now that's new to me, I'm sorry they are causing you trouble” they chuckle, smiling up at him, enjoying the banter.  

"Ratchet and Drift both know I'm not interested in a relationship, it's mainly just stress relief, and i think Sunstreaker just has a bjt of a kink for someone who isn't going to scratch his paint" they confirm, making him aware of yet another bot involved. Magnus's optics widened fractionally at the mention of Sunstreaker - another unexpected development in this tangled web. "I see. So Sunstreaker as well, hmm?"

”It would appear you...ambassador has been quite diligent in cultivating a support network aboard this ship." Fixing the human with a measured look, Magnus continued, "And you are certain this...arrangement suits you? Entanglements with the crew, regardless of intent, can prove...complicated."

The nod. “Yes, I'm content and want to keep this on the down low, I don't need it getting back to my superiors on earth, nor do I need Prowl making issues of it.” They explain. In truth they were very happy with the arrangement, and felt less guilty now that they were talking with Ultra Magnus over the situation. 

"I merely wish to ensure you are not inadvertently placing yourself in jeopardy, little one." Magnus paused, considering his next words carefully. "However, if this provides you the stress relief you require, then I shall refrain from further commentary." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though I must admit, I'm somewhat impressed by your...resilience, in the face of such formidable suitors."

It makes their face fluster as they look away from him quickly. “That's not funny and you know it” they huff under their breath only for him to let out a soft rumbled noise. Shaking his helm ruefully, the Autobot commander returned his attention to the ever-present datapads. "Very well. You have my discretion and, should you need, my counsel as well."

"They have all been good to me, very respectful and accommodating. They mainly have been dead quiet about involvement because of you actually." They hum. "Well technically you, Megatron and Rodimus. You three I do look up to alot, and your opinion means alot to me. I was just worried you would have me court martialled and shipped back to earth for fraternization "

Magnus's field rippled with a mix of surprise and begrudging respect. "I see." 

"While I cannot condone such...personal entanglements, I confess I am impressed by your discretion thus far. It speaks to a level of maturity and pragmatism I had not anticipated." Magnus met their gaze steadily. "You have proven yourself a valuable asset to this ship. I would not see that jeopardized, simply due to youthful indiscretions." 

With that now out of the way they sit there quietly before looking up at ultra Magnus from their spot sitting on the desk. "Could I have a hug, at the moment I can feel myself shaking from the fear and anxiety " they try to joke and make light of how afraid they were of him finding out. 

Magnus regarded the ambassador with a soft expression, field pulsing understanding. "Of course." He gently scooped them up, cradling their small frame against his chest in a rare display of tenderness. "There is no need to fear, Ambassador." His deep voice rumbled with reassurance as he lightly stroked their back.

They lean their head against his plating, relaxing against him.  "Thank you, you're a real one Magnus. No one will ever change that" Magnus rumbled softly, the vibration soothing against the ambassador's frame. "You are most welcome. I am merely doing what I believe is right."

He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring their comfort as they leaned into him. A rare, small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You have earned my trust, Ambassador. That is no small feat."

With that, Magnus simply held the ambassador, allowing them the chance to find solace in the steadiness of his frame. And in truth he rather enjoyed holding them close. 

_______________

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[atenea585]

Hihi congrats on 100 followers!! Can I request prompt 25 with Sam pls?

Hi! Thank you and I hope you enjoy what I wrote for you. I just really love Sammy❤️

Prompts: “Are you angry with me?” “Oh, no, no, no, no... I'm furious with you.”

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

“It's not funny!”

“No, I know, I know…” You crossed your arms and looked away. Maybe that would help.

Let's just say that being in a relationship with Sam Winchester was also about getting into all of his family activities. That is, activities he shared with Dean.

And that meant getting into their jokes.

It had started calmly. Dean, in an attempt to integrate you knowing how much you meant to his baby brother, started by making a joke. A small joke that you returned with something minimally big. Which led to the three of you making jokes between each other.

Everything was small and harmless...

Until it wasn't.

Sam had put glue on your comb, causing it to stick to your hair when you went to brush it.. Luckily it hadn't been necessary to cut it, but you wanted to give it back to him... In a big way.

And since he had messed with your hair, let's just say that you would mess with his. So you put glitter in his shampoo and had the brilliant idea of bathing with him so you could put it on.

You didn't count on the fact that you had put so much into it that his head now looked like a bowling ball. That's why when he dried his hair and noticed the shine on his towel, he instinctively looked at you.

“Honey... Anything you have to tell me?”

“I think it would be better if you looked in the mirror.”

That's how, minutes later, you, already dressed, and him with a towel around his hip, were in this situation. The best part was that not only was her hair filled with glitter, but her entire body had traces of it.

“Do you know how hard it will be to get all this out of me?”

“I bet a lot.”

“Dean won't leave me alone if he sees me like this.” He sighed.

You remained silent. Sam trying to think of a way to get the glitter off and you concentrating on not laughing. After a few seconds you decided to speak.

“Are you angry with me?”

He looked up at you and crossed his arms.

“Oh, no, no, no, no... I’m furious with you.”

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and started laughing. Sam just watched you, trying to stay serious, but he couldn't stand it. Your laugh was contagious. He laughed lightly and spread his arms out to his sides.

“Yep... Maybe it's a little funny.”

You put a hand on your belly as you continued laughing. He shook his head in amusement and approached you, wanting to hug you.

“Oh, no, no-”

You tried to move away from his shiny body, but he wrapped you in his strong arms, scattering the glitter over your clothes and hair.

“There we go. Now we are equal.” He laughed, rubbing against you.

“Now I'll need to take another shower.”

“We could shower together.”

He pulled away slightly to look at you and ran his nose along your cheek, leaving more glitter behind. You huffed before gently pushing him away.

“You're like a giant who fell into a pool of strippers.”

“You spend too much time with my brother.” He pecked at your side and you slapped his hand. “Know that revenge will be good.”

“As long as you don't mess with my hair, I won't mess with yours.”

"Deal." He smiled and hugged you again, this time without letting go.

“Ugh, enough!”

“Nope, it’s not.”

And so he carried you all the way to the shower, his arms around you so the glitter would transfer to your body.

You knew the next pranks would get out of hand, and you were already plotting the next one in your head.

Special Hundred Followers

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[undercoverdonderwolk]

can we also talk about how max has said his favorite number is 3 and also that he was gonna pick it as his race number (said that was the number he always chose for karting if he got a choice) but went with 33 instead bc daniel already had 3…….soulmatism

you’re right— you couldn’t even WRITE this bc it’d be like this is so cheesy :/

imagine the fic like “well they meet when they’re young and they immediately hit it off! one of them even sends the other a cute little message when he gets his super license, even though they’re not even really friends yet. and then they become teammates and they’re sooo close like to the point where other drivers are like i’ve never seen teammates so close before… but they’re fiiiercely competitive they even get in a few fights but don’t worry they always apologize to each other. but then one of the guys leaves!!! even though the other guy tries to stop him and get him to stay!!!! and they’re both kinda depressed about it to the point where one of them obsessively listens to the song barely friends by drama which that same guy references as the perfect breakup song like five years later and the other guy spends all his time miserable getting into the top 10 best fifa players in the world. but they remain friends like they get even closer even though there’s not really any point in being friends. they fly everywhere together and hang out on a boat together and they post each other on instagram and when life gets horrrrible for one of the guys at some point he goes to say that he’s sooo happy that if it can’t be him at least it can still be the other guy. but then the guy’s old team takes him back!!!! and they’re SO happy like they are giddyyyy. it was actually the other guy who first announced it that’s how excited he was. at some point one of the guys even writes down the other guy’s old number (the one he had when they were teammates) in the dust on a car which just so happens to be double his own number…. and they almost become teammates again and they’re sooo happy that they put the two of them on insta with a fred again song (i been gone too long baby don’t leave) but it doesn’t happen… but they’re attached at the hip down to the verrrry last moment when the two of them spend an entire evening singing each other’s praises and even though one of the guys is retired know they still hang out!!!!!!”

i’d be like ok. i’ll suspend my disbelief 716 million times for ur corny ass story eye GUESS!!!

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Roosterwhale behind the cut; “we are so pleased with this match". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . what,” the scientist says, and Kara ignores him to revel in the perfect synchronicity that Kon and Match outright throw themselves at each other with. That's just very satisfying, as a beta. Especially as the beta who led this alpha to this omega. 

As the beta who led her only sem-zahm packmate to the kyn-tul who’s been waiting so long for him to come and let him be a good bitch for him. 

Kon and Match crash together and Match immediately tries to rip Kon’s throat out, which Kara considers very restrained of him under the circumstances, and Kon smashes him into the floor to keep from getting his throat ripped out, and Match hisses viciously and backhands him across the jaw. Kon snarls back down at him and Match claws at his face and Kon bares all his teeth, and Match’s breath–hitches, very noticeably. 

And then he tries to bite Kon’s throat out, which is also very restrained of him under the circumstances, Kara thinks. 

“About goddamn time,” the scientist mutters. “Subject Match will deal with this. You three, get the–” 

“Uh, sir . . .” one of the guards interrupts him warily, the other guards looking somewhere between confused and alarmed. Kara assumes it has something to do with them actually being combat-trained and therefore capable of noticing things like, oh, body language and intent and specifically how Kon and Match are fighting each other, and the equally specific ways they very much aren’t fighting each other. 

Like–very, very specifically, on both grounds. 

“Don't interrupt me!” the scientist snaps at the guard, who grimaces. “Call the collections team and tell Lab 4 to prep for a new sample set. Vivisection or necropsy, whichever we get.” 

Didn't even say “autopsy”, Kara reflects idly. Well, she already knew the asshole deserved this. 

 He deserves much worse than this, in fact, for keeping Match all locked up down here in a cell instead of letting him have what a kyn-tul on their cycle deserves. 

And for keeping her packmate’s kyn-tul from him, he deserves even worse. 

She is not in any way whatsoever going to even pity the Agenda, no. 

Kon and Match are wrestling more than anything else right now–well, as much as “if Kon fucks up Match will murder him” can pass for “wrestling”, anyway–and Kara remains impressed with Match’s restraint. She cannot imagine what her father would’ve done if her mother had left him alone in . . . how many heats must Match’ve had by now, if he presented about when Kon did? 

Kara does a few conversions to Earthling calendars and some quick math in her head. 

. . . actually, she needs something stronger than “good bitch” to go with here, because any Kryptonian-raised omega would’ve gelded Kon for putting them through this. 

The El packs owes Match such nice nesting materials. And his pick of places for nesting in, too, up to and including all their own personal homes and bedrooms and laps. And also literally every single thing he ever wants when he’s in heat or pre-heat for the entire rest of his natural-born life. 

She should probably text Kal and her other self about collecting some of those things after they get out of here, she thinks. Once Match has gotten fucked into a more talkative mood, anyway, and can tell her what said things are. 

Though the nesting materials she is definitely already making plans for. 

Match slams Kon into the floor hard enough to crater it–hard enough to shake the room–and Kon struggles underneath him clumsily, clearly overwhelmed and trying to keep control of things he doesn't actually need to be in control of right now. Kara obviously understands why, given he's never done this before, but . . . 

“K-Kara, I . . .” Kon pants from where he’s pinned and struggling underneath Match, his eyes flared wide and pupils almost as dilated as they can get. He keeps most of the alpha out of his voice, which is honestly fairly impressive too. “I feel . . . I wanna . . .” 

“Don’t pay attention to her!” Match hisses down at him as he grabs his throat and starts to choke him, leaning all his weight and an obvious amount of muscle into it, and Kon grabs onto his wrists with a strangled wheeze. “I’m right here!” 

“I told you, Kon, you have my permission,” Kara reminds him patiently. Again, she understands why he's trying to keep a rein on his alpha, because he's never gotten to not keep a rein on his alpha, but that's the literal opposite of what the current situation calls for. “Don't you know what your Match needs from you? Don't you know how bad your Match wants you to give him what he needs from you?” 

Kon makes another strangled sound, and Match looks away from him just long enough to glare at her, baring his omega teeth in an alpha sneer–

Baring his neck, and leaving it unprotected. 

He doesn’t know what he's doing, doing that. 

But Kon's alpha does. 

Kon’s eyes snap into full eclipses and he lunges up and throws his arms around Match as he buries his teeth in his exposed throat with a full-on alpha snarl, and Match–well, Match doesn’t have irises to eclipse, but his eyes still flare the exact same way Kon’s did even as his body reflexively stiffens–as whatever these stupid humans taught him makes his body reflexively stiffen–and then, as its actually honest reaction, just melts completely down into Kon’s teeth. 

Because of course it does. Because Match is a good bitch who Kara can very clearly smell just slicked up enough to soak his hole over that bite, and is willing to let Kon prove that he’s a good alpha. 

Kon drags Match down and rolls them over and slams the other to the floor flat on his back, and Match’s expression goes all dreamy and heat-drunk and he tries to smash Kon’s temple in with a fist. Kon digs his teeth in harder and catches Match’s wrists, and Match makes a breathy, omega-soft sound and then brings a knee up into his gut, and they both shove down and claw at and cling to each other. 

Kara watches contentedly as Kon and Match thrash and struggle and crack the floor underneath themselves, all hisses and snarls and gasped-out little grunts and moans. They’re a little clumsy about it, but it’s their first time together, and she still can’t help finding it sort of adorable how their pheromones are all tangled up and smell like–well, a candy she’ll never taste again and a roaring fire, but also the quiet intimacy of a human bonfire off alone in the dark and the kind of sticky-soft-melty marshmallows that humans roast on them. 

. . . or toast, maybe? Maybe it’s toast, she doesn’t really know. Mostly she just burned hers to charcoal, the times Kal got her to try it. 

It’s a nice scent, though. Kara likes the thought of it all intermingled with and absorbed into their pack scent: the tangled mess of a compatible alpha and omega, all mixed up in each other ‘til even their own packmates won’t be able to tell the difference between their scents half the time. It might break her heart a little every now and then, but so does everything that’s ever mattered to her, from her parents to Krypton to Kal to their pack to finding out this was even a option. 

For now, though, it’s just a submission bite and not actually a mating one–obviously, because Kon isn’t the kind of bastard who’d ever force something like that–so for now their scents are still separate enough to recognize as separate scents. Kon’s teeth are still in Match’s throat, and he and Match are still struggling on the floor, and all tangled up like this they smell warm and melty and burningly horny, which is both a good sign for their compatibility and also zero percent surprising at this point. Especially since their “struggling” is increasingly less and less about the “struggle” part and more and more about getting their hands all over each others’ bodies and dragging and grinding them both together. 

And maybe about one other thing, Kara can’t help but think when she notices Kon fist a hand in the symbol on the chest of Match’s suit and shred it off him. She understands the temptation, with some other pack’s crest sitting there. 

Also now Match is showing significantly more skin, which seems like a very Kon kind of solution to the problem but is also an undeniably effective one. 

Kon pulls back just enough from Match’s throat to snarl down at him, his fistful of torn emblem held balled against the other’s chest, and Match stares up at him with eyes that can’t eclipse, that already look like moons anyway, and then–very obviously, and very deliberately–tips his head back against the floor and pushes his chest up against Kon’s clenched fist, fully displaying–and exposing–his throat and pectorals to him in the process. 

Rao, that’s the kind of submission display most omegas wouldn’t even do in porn, Kara thinks, barely resisting the urge to cover the nearest guard’s eyes for propriety’s sake. 

Well–Match doesn’t know any different, does he. He just knows what his omega is telling him it wants. 

And Kon, presumably, knows what his alpha wants, but is just holding himself still and frozen above him; above that exposed offering of a posture from an omega who probably doesn’t even really understand why he’s doing it or what it really means; from a compatible omega who very obviously differentiated to be specifically compatible with him. 

“Aw, I knew you liked each other,” Kara hums approvingly, mostly to confuse and stress out the Agenda’s idiot lackeys even more than they already are. They deserve a lot worse, frankly. And also, Kon and Match are stuttered to a stop and do both need and deserve to hear some encouragement. “The House of El is very pleased to see it.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, you alien freak?!” the scientist demands, visibly sweating from nervous tension and struggling to regain his composure. Kara doesn’t bother looking at him, but bares her teeth sweetly all the same. 

“Come on, Kon, give your Match what he needs,” she coaxes lightly, and Kon starts panting harder again, his own chest just shy of outright heaving. “He’s so angry all the time, isn’t he? So unsatisfied. Doesn’t he need someone to treat him right?” 

“I really . . .” Kon chokes, a shudder going all the way down his spine and to his respective grips on Match’s wrists. “I really . . . Kara.” 

“Doesn’t he smell so good, Kon?” she asks, just a little more coaxing in her tone–and her pheromones, obviously. “Isn’t it just how you’ve been waiting for him to smell?” 

Kon makes a strangled sound, and she hears Match’s teeth grind together. They’re both still stuck in their standstill, neither taking their eyes off each other or moving to either accept that offering or retract it. 

So Match doesn’t want to stop, and Kon doesn’t know how to start, and again: they don’t know how this goes, but Kara does. 

“Relax, Kon,” she says, dropping her voice and pheromones both into soothing notes. Betas soothing anxious or overwhelmed or overemotional alphas and omegas through their cycles is as natural as cycles themselves. “Go with it. Your body just wants you to sympathy-cycle for your Match. Wants to put you in condition to take care of your Match. So let yourself go. Give him what he needs. It's alright.” 

“Subject Match!” the scientist snaps sharply, his voice just barely avoiding cracking. “Kill Superboy! Kill him now!” 

“Little late for that idea, don’t you think?” asks Kara, who is very much aware that Kon now smells like a Rao-damned forest fire to Kryptonian senses.

[aquarius-cookie-jar]

Just for fun, I'm doing a "What if my ocs were in the Beast Ancients AU (by @cuppajj) ?"

Disclaimer: There will be slight mentions of oc x canon. There will also be mentions of death, but more so in a 'already passed on/ they're a ghost observing the world' kinda way. None of this information is canon to my nor cuppajj's au. This is just something I've been wanting to do because it's silly lmao.

Ok! Onto rambling!

Powdered Sugar Cookie (she/her)

The citadel has been deathly quiet ever since the fall of the beloved king. The spirits that used to roam the halls freely, possessing weapons not only to guard the walls from beyond the grave, but also to interact with the cookies that lived there, have since then disappeared. No longer could you see specters that sometimes danced around the empty walkways. They're gone. Perhaps this time, the cold was too much to bare, and they've returned to the spirit realm. This time for good. Sometimes though, if you're lucky, you may be able to catch a small glimpse of a spirit, but never anywhere near the rooms where the king currently stays in. Something about him drives them away...

Among these spirits is Powdered Sugar Cookie. She's one of the few that chose to remain and wander the frigid halls of the citadel. Rarely would she ever show herself, but sometimes, a lost child may find themselves following a golden butterfly that's guaranteed to lead them home. They say these butterflies are the blind spirit's companions, and it's said they're a good omen. One certainly hopes to encounter them, especially during these uncertain times.

Once news that Dark Choco and Strawberry Crepe have been wandering lost and uncertain with an... untrustworthy specter had reached her ears, she asked her spirit friends to follow them, and make sure they're alright. There's not much she could do as a ghost, but she will do anything to ensure the safety of the children. Especially when it comes to her own son and his companions...

Fire Flower Cookie (he/they)

A cookie who once thought was dead was freed from his enchanted prison, only to come face to face with a world laid to ruin in a new era of beasts and monsters. He was forced to run and flee as the village who just freed him from his prison was conquered by she who calls herself the dragon slayer. As soon as her eyes met his, he immediately bolted and fled into the woods. Her sinister grin implanted into his mind, as her orders echoed in his head, "Capture the phoenix! They'll make a great addition to my specimen collection!" Now he wanders the world alone, distrustful of anyone he encounters, even more so than before. But when fate sends them on a chance encounter with another group of survivors, they're forced to come to the conclusion that they need help if they want to live. But can he really trust them to not turn their backs on him?

Fire Flower Cookie and Dark Choco Cookie already have an awkward encounter in my au, so in this one, they straight up tried to attack each other, falsely assuming the other was an enemy. Eventually, they do work it out, and form a temporary truce if it meant they'll be safe.

Eventually, all of them grew fond of each other, and became a pretty solid group. Fire Flower catching a little crush on the ex prince.

However, it seems that they weren't fated to last, as at some point, the group had fallen into a trap, and Fire Flower had to sacrifice himself to save Choco and Crepe, falling into Dragonberry's capture and experimentation...

Berry Choco Cookie (he/him)

How long has he been gone..? Where is his body..? Is he..? Suddenly, he remembered everything. The celestial dragon that stole their magic... The sword he enchanted with forbidden Jam Magic... His brother... That blasted kirin... How dare that beast corrupt his brother and imprison him in his own weapon?! They shall pay. He'll bring their legacy to ruin! However, as he awoke to an unfamiliar world, he realized vengeance isn't going to be easy. Not when the kirin's descendant is literally a beast. No. Not now. It's still too dangerous. So for now, he'll watch from the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike. How tempting it is to take the body of the one who used his dark jam magic and finish it all. But not now... Patience is a virtue they say...

Vengeful spirit, Berry Choco, is- to put it lightly, very... unamused... by the current situation he finds himself in. There's not much he could do in this bodiless form. He doesn't know how long he's been trapped in that witches-foresaken sword. Speaking of which, the blade is nowhere to be found either. He was left wandering for so long, until he realized he can sense those that have used the dark magic he created. So he seeks out a host, and lo and behold; the prince of the kingdom he seeks to destroy.

How he almost immediately jumped to possess him, but stopped. Though blinded by pure rage, he isn't stupid. There were far too many uncertainties to account for. Not to mention, he had yet to formulate a plan of attack. So for now, he watched from the shadows. Observing.

Dark Choco can't shake the feeling of being watched, and even experiences dark nightmares and visions of a cookie he doesn't recognize.

The voices that once accompanied the sword sometimes sound louder than they usually were...

Berry Choco Cookie (he/him) and Cacaofruit Kirin Cookie (they/them)

Dark Cacao's late parents...

There's nothing they can do...

[synthetickitsune]

To Save The World ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst Summary: Joshua made his choice. Now he has to commit to it. The world must go on. And for that, he has to make you go. Word count: 1.6k Warnings: blood, knives, reader dies A/N: inspired by @chugging-antiseptic-dye's post here bcs you can't say "joshua slitting your throat" and expect me to be normal, and also it's highly recommended to read this as well

The night falls. The stars twinkle above, yet the light seems dimmed. The world must be asleep. Perhaps it might be as kind as to close its eyes to what he’s about to do. If there’s one thing the world’s always been good at, afterall, it’s turning away from those who need its help the most. There's a duty to them that he always carried on his shoulders. He’s always tried to make up for what the universe couldn’t do. Now that he’s in need of help, however, who will save him? 

He never thought that burden would eventually end up being his own demise.

Joshua’s breath comes out as thin clouds that soon evaporate into nothingness. Just the same as him. Every breath is a thought, a memory, a part of him. He wills them to be. He needs to send them all off, so that he can at least hope to be saved one day. He hopes the wind can carry all of him far enough that he won’t be tainted. 

He spent what felt like hours standing under scalding water. As if filth can be washed ahead of time. 

Anyway. 

Washed as best as he could make it and free of all scent, he feels naked. A blank sheet. Now all that’s left is to cleanse himself of himself. Not a man, but a hero. A fragile puppet dancing however fate and duty pull its strings. Empty. To be filled again with a different substance. Transformed. A copy of himself only on the outside.

The cold makes him feel frozen in time. If it doesn’t start ticking again soon, he will surely lose his mind. But perhaps that’s an option he’d gladly take. There is little chance of that happening soon enough, though. No, it’s not going to happen until it’s too late.

He hears lone footsteps slowly approaching. Bile rises up his throat. He closes his eyes and takes a couple of long, deep breaths. He tries to keep them even. To keep the tremors out of his breathing at least. He can’t be heard. He has to keep standing but his knees can barely support him. If only the darkness of the alley could swallow him. If only the wall behind his back could turn into goo. Trap him like an insect in tree sap. Keep him trapped in amber so that everyone could witness his cowardice that even outweighs the sin he’s about to commit.

‘Hero’ is a funny world. A joke.

In the end, he couldn’t save everyone. Forget everyone. Just one person.

The sound gets closer. Have you always walked with a skip in your step when you were rushing home to him? The bile again. His stomach twists. He has to force himself to swallow. The street remains empty. Everything else aside, Joshua can’t let anyone see his face ever again. He won’t ever look at his face again. His hands feel clammy. He can’t breathe. He can’t—

The knife almost slips from his hand. He only sees your side profile for a split second. He can’t double over. Not now. He’s already a coward hiding in the shadows. So it feels like a cruel joke, the sight that his eyes let him see. It’s like the clouds part and you’re suddenly bathed in moonlight. Are the stars taking you before he can? He only has fractions of a second to pray it is so. To hope his hands will pass right through you. That the moon saves you and cradles you in its cold silver arms.

It’s with practiced ease that he reaches from his hiding spot. It’s with hard-earned skill and speed that he grabs you and pulls you back into the shadows, away from the light that exposes his weakness. He ensnares you in the darkness with him before you can make a sound or register what’s happening.

With tender strength he holds you against his chest. His arm wraps around your waist perfectly, pinning your arms to your sides. It should be like this. You belong with him. He should always hold you. What does heaven have that lying with you, your head above his heart and his arms around you doesn’t provide? Your body fits against his like you were made for him. And lately he believes you were, just to make your fate that much crueler. To start his punishment long before he knew he’s going to be punished.

You can’t make a sound with his hand covering your mouth. He wishes you could. Blame him. Hate him. (Love him.) Your struggling is useless. He’s always been stronger than you. Could always easily pin you down. Why can’t you pout about it now? (Please hit his chest. Please call him mean. Please laugh and pull him down for a kiss.)

Your efforts double when the glint of the blade catches your eye. He has already messed up. He shouldn’t have held you one last time. It comes so naturally to him, though. Instincts can’t be overridden. He had to. He tries to make his voice deeper, unrecognizable. To his own ears he doesn’t sound like himself when he shushes you. You sound every bit like yourself when you whimper. (Can’t he hold you tighter? Can’t he pull the blanket over you like he’s always done and shield you from the rest of the world?)

In his memories, it’s always your hair, your cheeks that he caresses. Your lip under his thumb. As he moves his hand lower though, he discovers that the skin on the vulnerable column of your throat is surprisingly soft too. (Did he not explore your body enough? Will this be one more regret to haunt him day and night?) Your breathing, your heartbeat, he can feel it all with his touch. It’s so fast. Like the little bunny’s that you promised to adopt with him. The one you won’t make a half-orphan because you never brought it home. Your eyes look like prey animal’s caught in a trap too.

His thumb strokes over your windpipe. You deserve that. You deserve something more intimate. You deserve something warmer than the cold steel of the knife. You deserve him. Not a stranger.

But he can’t. He’s a coward. His strength isn’t as tender now. It’s desperate. He doesn’t want to let go. You don’t make a sound.

(Please whine. Please tell him to let go. Please call him clingy. Please tell him to let you hug him too.)

His hand stops before it can dip under your shirt. His fingertips barely brush against your collarbone. How selfish he can be. You must be so scared - a stranger holding you, a stranger touching you. Joshua knows if it was him you saw holding a knife so close to your face, you wouldn’t be scared at all. 

(Smile at him. See him.)

As if sensing his hesitation, you move. Just one lone, weak attempt to break free. Just a jolt of an animal that doesn’t wish to be pet.

He leans his head against yours. (Hurt him. Do it. Please.) You stay still. For a blink of an eye that lasts an eternity, you settle and relax. Like he’s holding you while you cook dinner. Like he’s comforting you after a long day. Like you’re watching the storm outside from the warmth of your home. Like he’s saying goodbye.

Like you know what’s coming.

It’s with an order, an impulse to his nerves that doesn’t, that can’t have, come from his own brain and free will that the knife in his sweaty palm turns. Your breathing picks up more. The blade presses against the side of your throat and he—

Joshua!

The shriek pierces the silence of the night.

It rains. Crimson splatters on the ground.

But all he hears is your voice.

Did you recognize him and called his name in shock? Betrayal? Understanding?

Were you calling him for help?

Did you want his name to be your last word?

The knife clatters on the ground with echoes of his name, of your voice. Nothing else is real.

His hand clutches your throat and presses against it with force. He’s trying to pull the split tissue together but it won’t listen and the blood keeps pouring.

The warmth encompassing his hands must be your hands grabbing his. Slipping your fingers between his.

You’re just standing in the shower. It’s hot water rolling down your bodies. You’ll laugh. You’ll scold him for simply holding you instead of washing up.

What’s the point if his hands are forever dyed red.

No shower will ever be enough.

And your life keeps trickling down his fingers and pooling under his feet.

He collapses with you.

His head falls, forehead resting against yours.

(Look at him.)

He holds you like you’re dancing. Your silly wish to look at him after he twirls you. To lean back into his arms and look up at him.

So look at him. 

There’s nothing interesting to see at the back of your skull.

He sobs, but he only hears your voice. Only feels the claws of guilt and pain tearing at his throat from the inside.

Did you know? Could you tell he held you? Did you know you’re not alone? That you don’t have to be scared? 

Look at him. 

Tell him.

The world did not end with a bang. Nor with a whimper. The world did not end at all that night.

But there, in a dark alley where blood pools on the cobblestone, a life and a soul were crushed to save it. 

[internet-succubus]

sukuna’s final girl

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹

content/tags, mdni!: masked stranger!sukuna x reader, mentions of alcohol (reader is drunk but sober enough to consent) predator/prey chase, reader is a little bratty, choking, dacryphilia, implied marathon sex, daddy kink, use of baby/little girl/dollface/slut for reader, unprotected (don’t be silly, wrap ur willy!), squirting, sukuna is a stem major ⁉️, strangers to lovers to …?

a/n: sorry for taking 50 years to write something, it’s the end of the semester and i’m fighting for my life. i’m also way late for kinktober but… happy thanksgiving? happy reading folks! also idk how my headers/layout will look on different devices. im just here to write porn

word count: 3.9k

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹

you wandered aimlessly around the living room of some shitty house party, trying and failing to find the friends you arrived with. the flashing lights were too bright and the cheap halloween decorations had been pulled off the walls by some rowdy partygoers. all you could think about was how whorishly short your skirt was and how badly you needed to wash off your makeup; your pregame shots had worn off, and you were getting more annoyed every minute.

after half an hour of searching, you decided to cut your losses and try to salvage the rest of your night. you made your way to the makeshift bar in the kitchen, serving yourself a lukewarm cup of the jungle juice that would no doubt taste like gasoline and a 1.4 gpa. it stung as it slid down your throat, but the warmth spreading through your chest made it bearable. a few gulps later, you were sufficiently wasted and decided to make your way to the dancefloor.

a few songs played as you let the crowd and vodka move your body, not caring how stupid you may have looked in your runny makeup or tiny costume. your eyes slipped closed and your hips swayed until you bumped into the broad chest of a mystery man. in shock, your eyes shot open as you stumbled over your feet, nearly falling until the stranger caught you by the waist. as you looked up to thank him and apologize for being such a clumsy mess, your eyes met a mask. it was made of red, metallic plastic molded into the shape of the devil’s face - complete with a nasty smile and curling crimson horns.

the stranger held you for a moment before helping you back onto your feet, but your eyes remain fixed on the parts of him that weren’t covered by a costume. he was wearing a plain outfit- black jeans and a skin-tight black tank top. there were thick banded tattoos curling around the muscles of his shoulders and arms, emphasizing his muscular form. as you found your footing once more, your eyes shifted back to his “face”. regardless of what could be hiding behind his cheap-ass mask, you knew you’d be willing to risk it all for this man. something about him felt… right. he remained still as you sucked in a breath and thanked the lord for liquid courage.

“wanna play a game?” you ask, twirling your hair around your finger. despite your boldness, you knew that it was a wild proposal. he hadn’t spoken a word to you yet and you were already making a move. was it dangerous? yes, very much so. but was it exhilarating? also yes. your common sense was overpowered by desire; a long-time fantasy of yours was to be chased through the woods and hunted down by a masked stranger, and the man before you fit the bill perfectly. just as you were about to turn on your heels and abandon the whole thing, he laughed. his shoulders shook, and the way they flexed deliciously under his tattoos made you stay put.

his large arms fold over his chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. he looms over you and his loud cologne floods your nostrils, blocking out the sharp scent of cheap vodka that had been assaulting your senses since you walked in the door. your heart began to race as the gravity of the situation set in.

his head cocks to the side. “what sort of game?” he asked playfully. you could hear the smile in his voice. for a moment you reconsidered your plan to engage in some halloween fun with a stranger, but college is the time to make mistakes, right? you smirked and shrugged as he leaned in closer, taking a step towards you. as you tried to back away slightly, you realized that escaping was futile - you found yourself backed into a literal corner as the cold sensation of cinderblocks ran down your spine.

minutes later, you found yourself running through the woods surrounding the house where you met this stranger. you had proposed a hunt - he would give you a 5 minute head start, and if he caught you then… well, you hadn’t really planned that far ahead. you were tipsy, lost, and very scantily dressed on halloween night. the fear was paralyzing, but the idea of being caught spurred you on.

after a bit of running, you ducked behind a particularly dense patch of bushes. the sounds of leaves settling, wind rushing, and small animals moving about the forest kept you on edge. you heaved one shaky breath after another, wondering if he had given up on finding you - had you run too far? had you unknowingly agreed to be dinner for a very hungry bear? just as you accepted your fate, a large hand came down and gripped your hair, yanking you up with force. you yelped as your body was lifted off the ground effortlessly by this nameless stranger.

“you can’t outsmart me, little girl,” a voice growled next to your ear. his fingers were still tangled in your hair as he pulled you away from your hiding spot, making you feel more like a body bag than a living human. he then bent you over a fallen tree and the rough sensation of bark digging into your hips and thighs was nothing compared to the bruising grip he now had around your throat.

a pitifully garbled sound left your throat as he pulled you up so that your back was pressed against his warm body. you noted the way his bulge pressed into your lower back. instinctually, you struggled against him, but you knew that he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon. your body thrashed as he wrapped his free arm around your waist, lifting you slightly so your toes were barely touching the ground. a laugh echoed through his chest and the vibration sent waves of heat to the space between your legs.

“w-what’re you gonna do to me?” you wheezed, barely louder than the whispers of the wind. the fear in your head competed with the arousal in your cunt as the hand around your throat slid up to grab you by the jaw. his large hand squished your cheeks together to form a forceful pout, and the feeling of his strong limbs enveloping your body made you wetter than you wanted to admit.

the man leaned in and the smooth plastic of his mask pressed against your face was a reminder that you were truly at his mercy. “anything i want,” he says. “i caught you, so i win, right?”

with mind numbing speed, he let your body fall and you ended up bent over the fallen tree once again. you spread your legs slowly, arching your back to give him a better look at what you could tell he was desperate for. you gnawed on your lip as he undid his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers to let his cock spring free. he took a menacing step towards you and wrapped a hand around the base, using his precum to pump himself slowly.

his movements now seemed agonizingly slow as you watched him jerk himself off and flip your skirt up with his free hand. a spank landed against the fat of your ass causing you to yelp in shock, and another laugh came from behind you.

“a-are you going to sit there and jerk off, or do you plan to fuck me?” you snapped. if he was going to be rough, you might as well give him a good reason to. wordlessly, he lifted his mask, only exposing his mouth enough to spit a fat glob of saliva onto your puckering hole. he used his thumb to spread it further down, swiping it back and forth to mix with the slick of your already drenched core. the sensation made your legs tremble as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you’re going to wish you didn’t say that,” he said darkly.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

it felt like hours had passed since you had been found, and the party was probably long over, but you were nowhere close to going home. your pussy was swollen and dripping from the number of times he had pounded into you and dumped his cum into your cunt.

he paused for a moment to spin you around, positioning your body so that you were leaning back on the only support you could find. he wrapped his hands under your thighs, leaning you back further so he could slap his cock onto your overstimulated clit. tears fell from your eyes and smeared your makeup as he pushed back in slowly, sighing at the way your hot cunt pulled him back in. even after several rounds, the two of you couldn’t get enough.

his hands maintained a strong grip as he worked his way back up to a punishing speed, pounding into you with reckless abandon. you let your head fall back and jaw drop open like a slut. the expressionless mask he wore stared down at your shaking body as he used you like a toy. filthy squelches filled the quiet forest as you let yourself be disrespected by arguably one of the sexiest people you had never met, despite the fact that you had never seen his face.

your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him in closer, hungry for more. his hands slid up your body and rested in the dip of your waist. his fingertips dug into your soft skin, securing you in place as he hammered into you; you could only imagine what the bruises would look like the next morning. wanton moans left your lips as you struggled to think straight. “a-ah fuck, you feel sooo fuckin’ good, baby” you slurred. “so deep inside m-me!~”

“yeah? you like the way i fuck you like a slut?” he growled into your ear as the tip of his cock tapped your g-spot deliciously. his voice was muffled by the plastic of his mask, but you could hear the lust in the way he spoke. “what else do you want from me, hm? use your words, dollface.”

your throat was sore from the moans he had pulled out of you and the breaths that he had stifled with his hand wrapped around your throat throughout the evening, but you managed to suck in enough air to utter one thing. “w-want you to spit in my mouth, daddy,” you whined. in an attempt to persuade him, you tilted your head up and batted your eyelashes, now clumped together from your tears and runny mascara. your eyes searched for his through the reflective red plastic, but you found nothing.

”aww, poor baby needs a drink,” he said, moving one hand to grip your jaw. his fingers pressed your lips into a tight pout. they were swollen and covered in spit, just enough to catch the moonlight and illuminate your fucked-out expression. you nodded to the best of your ability, your jaw still locked in place as he maintained his firm grip. “don’t worry, i’ll give you what you want.”

your weak hands, previously balled into fists at your sides, reached up towards his face in an attempt to remove his mask. its artificial smile had been mocking you all night, and you were ready to see the man that had been pounding you for the last several hours. despite your best efforts, you failed to reach higher than his neck. he snickered and took one of your wrists to guide your fingers to the chin of his mask, allowing you to remove it yourself.

as the red plastic was lifted up and off of his face, his eyes met yours and it took you a few moments to register exactly who was looking back at you. he seemed to recognize the look of shock and confusion on your face, because he stilled his hips and furrowed his brows. “…am i ugly or something?” he asked.

“n-no it’s just… we know each other,” you stuttered, trying to bring your knees together in embarrassment. he pulled out slowly and allowed you to stand up just enough to pull your skirt down to cover yourself. “sukuna, we have class together like… several times a week. molecular biology, remember?” you ask. his eyes search your face for a hint of familiarity, and it takes a few seconds for him to recognize you.

”oh.. shit. i didn’t recognize you- y-your hair is different, you never wear makeup like that, i swear i didn’t-“ he says hurriedly. you raised your hand to cut him off as you think about what to say next. sukuna wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, so you took it upon yourself to do damage control. the silence in the air hung heavy as you thought about how to handle this. what would your friends say? can you even go back to that class? back to school? should you just drop out, move across the country, and change your name?

“shut the fuck up, okay? let me think,” you snapped. your brain was foggy from the number of times he made you cum, and it was hard to ignore the feeling of his previous loads leaking down your legs. the logical side of your brain told you to end things now, make him swear on his life that he would never tell a soul about tonight, and ignore him forever. the reckless side of your brain was still focused on the way he held you down and bounced your ass back onto his hips, making your eyes roll into your head and drool leak from the corners of your mouth. you rubbed the bridge of your nose as you weighed the options in your head.

“we’ve already come this far, right? i wanna cum one more time… don’t you?” he asked quietly, despite your previous command. “it’s not like i’ll tell anyone… unless you want to. i’ve always thought you were kinda… you know…” he trailed. one of his hands reached out and rested itself on your hip, bringing you back to reality. you hate to admit it, but he had a point.

a deep sigh heaved from your chest. “i guess so, yeah. but just one more, okay? you can’t tell anyone, and-“ before you could continue, he cut you off with a firm kiss to your lips. you protested for a moment, but the way his hot tongue slid into your mouth halted your racing thoughts. sukuna’s large hands roamed your body, his touch softer now, slowly laying you back down onto the fallen tree you had been relying on for support.

his lips moved from your mouth to your temples, then down to your neck. warm kisses trailed down your body as you screwed your eyes shut, trying and failing to forget who was making you shudder in pleasure. his hands rested on your hips as he knelt between your legs lifting your thighs and putting them over his shoulders. his head slipped under your skirt and his warm breath fanned against your cunt, still slick from how wet he left you.

one of your hands tangled itself in his hair, guiding his mouth to your clit. you felt him laugh softly as he slipped two fingers between your folds, running them over your slit. sukuna pressed soft kisses to your clit as you bit your lips to suppress your whines. it was embarrassing how good he was at this.

”hey, don’t quiet yourself now. need ta’ know if i’m doing good for you,” he sighed into your cunt. you sucked in a shaky breath and willed yourself to relax, which came easily as his lips worked your clit faster. as you got wetter, louder and longer whimpers escaped from between your lips. his flattened tongue swiped back and forth, and before you knew it, he was pushing it inside you.

it dipped in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit quickly. he ate you out with a sense of urgency, and the longer he went, the closer you got to cumming down his throat. your thighs trembled as you jerked his head back and forth, helping him tongue-fuck you harder and deeper. it felt so wrong to be using him like this, knowing that you’d have to face him for the rest of the semester, but none of that mattered as he let you use his mouth to make yourself cum one more time.

sukuna quickly swapped his tongue and fingers, now sucking on your clit and pushing his middle and ring finger into your tightening pussy. he curled his fingers, working slowly and then picking up his speed. your grip on his scalp relaxed as you felt yourself reaching the edge, but something was different. a sense of panic washed over you as you recognized the sensation between your legs.

”w-wait hold on i think i have to- fuck- wait!” you pleaded, but he was too caught up in making you feel as good as possible. the way his fingers curled into your g-spot pressed onto your bladder, and with one gentle bite on your clit, you reached the edge. if you were paying attention, you would’ve noticed the way he smiled against your cunt as if he knew what was happening before you did.

”s-sukuna ohhh my god, fuck! i think i’m gonna-“ your rambling was cut off as a scream was ripped from your throat. as if he predicted the future, he pulled his face away but kept his fingers pumping inside you as you squirted down his face. it came out in spurts as your hips bucked, the clear liquid spraying out and into his open mouth. as you came down from your high, his fingers slowed to a stop and you looked down at the way his half lidded eyes focused on your cunt. your cheeks burned red hot as he stood up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand as if he just had the best meal of his life. from his perspective, he did.

your body shuddered from exhaustion but he positioned himself between your legs, pulling his hardened cock out of his pants. “if you don’t want this just say so, but i’m desperate for you baby. can i fuck you? please?” he whined. he tapped his swollen tip against your thigh, smearing a bit of precum onto your skin. a shaky breath escaped his lips as he swiped himself over your slit.

you nodded, ready for more but still weak from your most recent orgasm. “take it slow, okay? you fucked me up a little bit,” you laughed softly, barely able to lift your head high enough to look at him. the lower half of his face was still coated in your juices but his shit eating grin made you feel a little bit less guilty about drowning him in your pussy. it was his doing though, so could he be that mad at you?

one of sukuna’s large hands rested on your thigh, holding your legs apart, and the other was wrapped around his base to guide himself into you. soft, wet squelches filled the cold forest as he pushed deeper into your core. his eyes were focused on the dripping slick between your thighs and once he bottomed out, a deep sigh rolled through his body.

his dark eyes met yours as he began thrusting slowly, and his previously sinister energy had been replaced by something softer. his deep strokes were almost… romantic. “h-how are you doing?” he whispered. his hand found your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair that was stuck to your face. “you look beautiful.”

”f-feels good- mmmphh- so deep inside me,” you responded. his thick shaft stretched you deliciously with every thrust, and your fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing gentle circles. sweat-soaked strands of his hair hung in front of his forehead as he looked down at where your bodies met, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. the poor boy was pussydrunk and he didn’t even know it.

one of your hands settled on his forearm, holding him for support. your other hand slipped up your stomach and under your shirt to push it up. his eyes flicked away from your gushing cunt as you revealed your breasts, now bouncing with every thrust of his hips.

“n-need my mouth on you,” he said, barely finishing his sentence before he bent down to take one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth. the cold air had kept them hard all night, and the way his hot tongue felt swirling around that sensitive spot made you tremble.

your shaking and squirming only seemed to spur him on. he then angled his hips upwards so his tip would be mashing into your g-spot repeatedly. deep groans left his mouth but went straight to your chest - he was stuck between your tits and had no intention of leaving.

his whines became higher pitched, and you could feel his hips start to stutter. “gonna come for me, ‘kuna? gonna fill me up again?” you cooed. the hand on his arm slipped into his hair, slicking it back messily. he shifted his eyes to meet yours and nodded quickly.

”need it, need you so bad, baby, gonna c-cum,” he whispered against your skin. his warm breath danced across your chest and made you arch up into him, your bodies meeting in the middle. the chilled air and heavy lust had you pressed so close against him that you could almost feel the beat of his heart trying to match yours.

your fingers tightened, pulling on his hair slightly harder. this small sign of desperation is what pushed him over the edge. all at once, his balls tensed and his strokes slowed as he reached his high. soft moans punctuated each thrust every time his sensitive tip hit the back wall of your pussy.

“oh ‘kuna, f-fuck,” you sighed. hot, white ropes shot out of his throbbing cock and painted your insides. high pitched whimpers left his throat and were muffled as he buried his head further into your chest. you could feel the way his cock throbbed every time he released more cum. you clenched around him hard, hoping to hold in as much of his warm seed as possible. his hips eventually slowed to a stop and your grip on his scalp loosened.

”w-was that good for you? ‘was good for me,” sukuna breathed out. a dopey smile spread across his features as he pulled out slowly. intently, he watched his cum dribble out of you. his eyes then became focused on yours, waiting for a response.

”yeah, that was pretty good i’d say,” you responded. the air felt sharp against your skin as you fixed yourself up, hoping that the cum running down your leg didn’t look as thick as it felt. after brushing yourself off, sukuna took your hand and led you out of the forest, back towards civilization.

he snickered in reply. “wanna come back to mine? seems like we both need a shower, maybe some food… and we should probably talk.”