#grits teeth while standing in the mirror

[angelkittycore]

im. trying. to fucking draw.

why the hell is my brain thinking that im actually a lesbian and i'm not a guy or bisexual.

[nanaslutt]

JJK men's reactions to you using your safeword

Incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji

cont: fem reader, established relationships, multiple positions, throatfucking, choking, asphyxiation, rough sex, squirting, dirty talk, aftercare, comfort, fluff

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

Your knees were folded to your sides as Gojo stood behind you and bullied his massive cock into your cunt at an inhumane pace, the pleasurable pain making tears spill down your cheeks. "S-satoruuu-" You cried when he angled his cock to fuck right into your sweet spot, making you dizzy.

Your legs were starting to ache from the position he had you folded in, his hands under your knees keeping you snug there so you were unable to move, completely at his mercy as he manhandled you and fucked your cunt. "You look so pretty when you cry from my dick y'know that? Fuck I should take a picture." Gojo giggled, watching your face contort in the mirror in front of him.

You gasped when Gojo's cock suddenly slipped out of your pussy as he released you from his hold and made you stand on shaky legs in front of him--not for long though. The white-haired man then wrapped his arms around your torso, lifting your body off the ground a few inches as he slipped his cock back inside your cunt with ease as he started up that same brutal pace once more.

Gojo grit his teeth at how tight you felt in this position. "Oh fuckkk, baby look, I can see my cock through your stomach like this. I'm so fucking deep." He grinned, staring at the bulge through your tummy with a fucked out smile. You were caught too off guard to reply. He was right, he was deep, too deep. 

You were positive that Gojo was hitting your cervix in this position, he was so fucking deep. His wet balls were pressed flush against your ass, making it so every inch of his massive cock was stuffed inside of you. "F-fuck T-toru t-too deep-" You cried, your nails digging into his arms that held your body as you grasped him for dear life.

It wasn't uncommon for you to cry and whine during sex with Satoru, which is why he didn't take your please seriously, per usual. "Oh yeah? I'm too fucking deep?" Gojo moaned against the shell of your ear, making eye contact with your teary eyes in the mirror.

You sobbed when he thrust harder inside you, his fat tip absolutely crushing into your cervix, sending a painful jolt shocking through your stomach. "N-no really-" He gave you a few more hard thrusts as you cried on his cock, that same fucked out grin on his face. "R-red Satoru red!!" You yelled, squeezing your eyes shut in pain, your nails digging into his arm breaking skin from how hard you were grabbing him.

Immediately Gojo stopped moving inside you, his previously cocky smile fading from his face in an instant as he pulled out of you and set your feet down on the ground. "Shit, baby, what happened, talk to me?" Gojo asked, keeping his arms around your body as he lowered the both of you onto the plush carpet in front of the mirror.

Tears continued to flow down your face as you caught your breath, your hands coming down to press against your pelvis as you felt the dull ache inside you Gojo's cock had caused. "T-too deep, it really hurt." You said between gasps. "I'm so sorry princess I didn't know you were serious," Gojo said honestly, his arms wrapping tighter around your body as he held you against him, his watchful eyes staying on your face in the mirror.

"'S okay, it just really hurt." You sniffled, keeping one hand on your pelvis as the other wiped the tears from your face. "No, it's not, I'm sorry I really should be more careful," Gojo replied, pressing soft kisses against your shoulders and neck, his warm hands rubbing over your body to try and get you to come down. 

You stayed silent as you tried to catch your breath. "Good job for using your safeword princess, I'm so glad you said something. Never wanna hurt you like that." Gojo whispered after a while of the soft pampering kisses. You nodded in response, your breathing finally having evened out. "Thank you for stopping." You responded, one of your hands reaching behind you in the mirror to caress his cheek, making him look at you through the mirror.

He smiled softly at you before nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Oh, course baby. Does it still hurt real bad?" He asked curiously, noticing how your hand was still pressed against your tummy. "It's a little sore...' nd I'm kinda nauseous." You replied, wincing in pain.

Gojo leaned into your hand that was holding his cheek as a silent apology before he moved his arms to scoop under your legs, one against your back as he picked you up with ease, cradling you in his arms. "Let's get you in the bath then I'll get you some tea, how's that sound baby?" Gojo asked, tilting his head at you for your approval. When you nodded he leaned forward and kissed your eye, swollen from your tears. You closed both eyes, letting his soft lips kiss the ache in your now dry eyes before he pulled away and whisked the two of you to the bathroom.

Geto:

The dark-haired man's hand pressed against your head, effectively shoving you deeper into the mattress each time he fucked his hips against yours. You gasped and whined each time you felt his hips connect with your ass, the fat of your ass rippling from the roughness of his thrusts.

"Take that fucking cock- take it-" Geto groaned, his one foot perched on the bed giving him the perfect leverage to fuck into you hard and fast. He had come home from a mission particularly worked up, saying something about how it went on longer than he thought and there were more casualties than he would've liked. So when you so graciously offered your body for Geto to take out his anger on, he would've been a madman to decline. 

You didn't know he was going to be this rough though. It almost felt like Geto was distant somehow, his mind still in work mode. He threw his head back and let his eyes fall shut as he mindlessly thrust inside your pussy, the wet squelches echoing in his ears only fueling him to fuck you harder, faster, so he could hear more.

You cried his name against the sheets, your words coming out muffled from how hard he was shoving your face against the mattress. "Be good, be a good girl baby." Geto groaned, his head tipping down as his eyes found yours, which tried to look at him through your peripherals. 

You were feeling an ache start to form in your back from how deep of an arch he had you in, and his head squishing your face against the sheets was making it hard to breathe. His hard thrusts knocking the wind out of your lungs didn't help. You didn't want to tell him to slow down though, you knew how worked up he was, and you could take a little discomfort, it was fine. 

"Fuckkkk- you're sucking me in." Geto groaned. He pulled his hand away from your hip to land a couple of harsh smacks against the fat of your ass, one after the other, before he gripped the fat in his hand, his nails digging into your skin. That's when your mental state caved in. 

You could take a little pain, you could take a little discomfort, but you couldn't take it anymore. You wanted to bite your tongue for Geto you really did, but the pain soon overcame the pleasure, the ache in your bones became too much and you still couldn't shake the feeling that Geto wasn't mentally here fully. All the factors combined made you lose it as you lost your arch and tried to escape Geto's grasp, crying out, "S-stop, red- red, s-top."

Geto was certainly fully there now, snapping out of whatever daze he was in as his cock slipped out of you as your body curled up on the bed, your arms wrapping around yourself in comfort as fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Woah woah, baby, cmere, shit come here," Geto whispered, pulling up his boxers quickly before he laid next to you and pulled your body atop his, his hands rubbing over your back as you stayed tense, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, sobbing. "I'm sorry, i-i'm sorry." you cried, the guilt of not being able to please Geto the way you thought you should've washed over you.

"Hey, no, why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong. What happened baby?" Geto asked carefully, trying to look down at you as you held onto his body for dear life, trembling in his arms. "I-it was too much." you sniffled, trying to catch your breath. "I'm sorry, was I too rough?" Geto asked, clarifying your words.

"Y-yeah, I felt like you were out of it... I don't know it sounds so s-stupid now that I'm saying it out loud," you whispered into his neck, your words coming out choked and choppy. Geto stayed silent, save for his whispered hushes as he tried to get you to calm down. "I shouldnt have said anything i-i'm sorry. I couldn't even k-keep my word." You added, referring to how you said Geto could take his anger out on you. 

"No baby, you're allowed to tap out any time you're not comfortable. I don't want you to force yourself, that's why we have the safeword, right?" Geto asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked down at you, your head still buried in his neck. You nodded against his neck, he was relieved your sobs had turned into soft sniffles, he hated to see you upset. 

"You're right though, today really took a lot out of me. I thought taking you up on your offer would make me feel better because sex with you always does, but I'm just not feeling right tonight, I should've told you instead of trying to take it out on you like this, I'm so sorry." Geto explained, his warm hands rubbing soothingly along the soft skin of your back, making you relax into him.

"I-it's okay Sugu," you replied, nuzzling your head into his neck deeper. "Is it okay if I just hold you like this?" He asked, softness lacing his tone. You smiled softly, shutting your eyes as you nodded, "Please." You replied quietly. Geto's arms squeezed tighter around you, he wished he could somehow be even closer to you than you were right now, he had this thought a lot.

"I love you, baby, I'll be more careful with you, promise." He said, tilting his chin atop your head as he shut his eyes, heaving a deep sigh as he absorbed the warmth from your skin. "It's alright Sugu, really. I love you, I'll make you feel okay again only by snuggling. Just don't let me go." You whispered. Geto felt his heart swell at your words, how could someone be so cute?

Nanami:

You lost track of how many times Nanami had already made you cum on his tongue. His fingers inside of you had been drilling into your sweet spot for so long you were almost going numb. Your insides hurt from the constant pestering but you couldn't deny that it did feel good, sex with Kento always did.

After almost four hours of continuous orgasms and berating from Nanami's tongue and fingers, you thought he would be done--and he might've if you hadn't just squirted, the release sending blood rushing to Nanami's cock as he was suddenly reenergized from watching your face contort as you squirted all over his face.

"K-kentooo-" You cried, your nails digging painfully into his scalp as he ate you out like a man starved, your pelvis bulging from the inside out as he finger fucked you like his life depended on it, expertly angling his fingers to press right against your g-spot. "You can take it, sweetheart, need to see you squirt again," Nanami mumbled against your clit, too fucked out and absorbed in eating your pussy to pull away from you fully.

Nanami had always been the type of man who ate pussy for his own pleasure, but he never took it as far as he did tonight. Something about you interacting so well with his students had ignited a fire inside him as his brain created fantasies of the two of you starting a family together, his mind using the visuals of you patting his student's fluffy pink hair as you cooing at your own child, one that you had created together.

"I- I can't I can't- P-please-" You choked on your own moans, your face contorting in painful pleasure as your head shook back and forth against the tear-stained pillow. Nanami had a deep blush spread across his face as he looked up at you, the only time Nanami's eyes had left your face this night was to roll back in his own head when the pleasure of eating you out became too much for him.

He looked so handsome, his chiseled face buried between your thighs, wetness messily smeared all over the bottom half of his face and the inside of your thighs, he truly was fucked out. "Just one more time then I'll give you my cock, gonna fuck you so full." Nanami cooed, saying his words like they were supposed to be comforting. 

You felt your heart drop in your stomach at the promise of Nanami fucking you after this. In any other scenario, you would've been overjoyed to finally have Nanami inside you, as he always took extra time to stretch you out for him. But right now, you wanted nothing more than a break... or maybe a 14-hour nap. 

You shook your head as you felt your orgasm come on, the sensation feeling sore in your tummy as it crept up on you. You were sure if you let this go on you were going to pass out, it was too much. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, thinking your actions over in your head quickly, to prevent this from going any further, before you decided to speak, "Red Ken- r-red-."

Despite how gone and fucked out Nanami was, he snapped back to reality in an instant, the clouds in his head clearing as he pulled his mouth away from your cunt, stilling his fingers inside you. "Red? You wanna end it right now?" Nanami asked softly, watching your face with great attention and concern as he breathed hard, trying to catch his breath.

You nodded, your legs fighting to press together to escape any more pleasure. "Alright, alright." You could tell Nanami was still a little out of it, but he complied with great haste. Slowly slipping out his fingers he sat up and allowed you to snap your legs shut, your sore cunt throbbing from how long Nanami had been eating you out. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm sorry, are you alright? I got a little carried away." Nanami said, blinking away the fogginess from his eyes as he crawled up to sit back against the headboard, pulling your body to sit on top of his.

Your hair was a mess, your face was wet with your tears and your eyes were all out of focus. You laid your head against Nanami's shoulder with a sigh and allowed your body to slump against his, relishing in the break you were granted. "I was going to pass out if I didn't stop you." You whispered, still out of breath as you heaved into his neck, your hot breath tickling his skin.

Nanami smiled in embarrassment as he held your body tightly against his, one of his large hands cradling the back of your neck, the other scratching up and down your back. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was that hard on you my love. Does anything hurt?" Nanami asked. He leaned back and cupped your face in his hands, his disheveled look making you smile weakly at him, how did he manage to look so handsome all the time?

"It's a little... sore down there." You whispered, looking away as you felt your face heat up from his intense gaze. Nanami shut his eyes briefly, slapping himself internally for getting so carried away. "It's my fault." He said, biting his lip. "You interact so well with the kids I couldn't stop thinking about how you would be with one of our own." He said honestly, the already intense blush on his face spreading to the tips of his ears as he laid his heart out for you.

Your eyes shot back over to his in an instant, your eyebrows raising in surprise. "Y-you mean-" You started, your sleepiness getting put on the back burner as you put 120% of your focus onto the man in front of you. "I... fantasize about starting a family with you a lot. I guess it got the best of me today. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to hurt you." Nanami said, averting his gaze as he spoke. You don't think you've ever seen him so bashful before.

"Kento you're so cute, so so cute." You said, a smile spreading across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning forward as you peppered kisses all over his face. Nanami groaned as you smothered him with attention, simultaneously bringing him down with you and washing away the guilt he was feeling. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, I should've said yellow though, maybe that would've eased you up a bit." You smiled, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Nanami's face scrunched in embarrassment at how carried away he got before he looked back to you. "I'll make it up to you. I promise." He whispered, leaning his head against the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms tightly around your body, making your chest come flush with his. "I'll clean you up in just a moment, just let me hold you right now." He mumbled against your skin, his deep voice sending vibrations throughout your body.

"Take all the time you need Kento, I'm not going anywhere." You replied. You wanted to address what he had said about how he thinks about starting a family with you frequently, but you decided to not open that can of worms right now, in fear it would rile him up again if you revealed that you too, dream of starting a family with him. 

Toji:

"Mph-nghh-" Vulgar, embarrassing noises spilled from your mouth, being forced out from your throat as you gagged and choked around Toji's fat cock. "Take that shit pretty girl- fuuuuuck-" He groaned as he gripped the entirety of your throat with his large hand, squeezing as he felt his cock bulge out in your neck.

You had your head hung off the side of the bed as Toji stood in front of you and fucked his massive cock down your throat, his heavy balls slapping against your upper face, making your eyes squeeze shut as he facefucked you. "Such a sloppy fucking mouth, goddd-" Toji grit through his teeth as spit bubbles and saliva pool out the side of your mouth, smearing onto your chin and his thighs.

All you could do was moan and cough around him as he forced his massive cock down your throat at a ruthless pace. This had been your idea, and Toji had practically jumped at the opportunity to try this with you. You told him you wanted to get better at taking his cock down your throat, so what better way to do that than to give yourself no other option? In this position the only thing you could do was try to breathe the best you could around him as he fucked into you like a fleshlight.

"Good fucking girl, taking me so well." Toji groaned, shaking his head as he looked down at your sloppy face and your eyes that were all out of focus, rolling back in your head. "So pretty." He said under his breath, biting his lip. Toji thrust his hips flush against your face, his balls pressing against your nose, blocking off any last air source you had as he stilled his cock inside you.

He gripped your throat harder, trying to feel his cock pulse through your neck as he cockwarmed himself in your throat. His eyes fluttered in his head as he let your throat squeeze around him, his balls twitching with how intense it felt. Your eyes shot open in alarm when you tried to breathe, but could not.

You were instantly kicked into fight-or-flight mode as you slowly ran out of air. To be honest, you would've been alright for another thirty seconds or so, but it felt so much scarier in that moment, you thought if you didn't get a breath in that second, you would die. You moaned in alarm around Toji's cock, the man just groaning and praising you in response when the vibrations went straight to his balls. 

You thought fast, remembering your safe signal as you reached your arms up and tapped his thigh repeatedly. The consensus had been two taps, but you were panicking, so you gave him a couple more than two. It only took Toji a couple of seconds to realize you were using your safe sign before he was groaning an "oh shit" and pulling his cock out from between your lips, his hand abandoning the hold it had on your throat.

Strings of spit connected from your lips and chin to his cock as you coughed and sputtered for air when he pulled himself out. You spun your body around and sat right up on the bed as you fought to catch your breath, your hand coming up to grab your own throat when you felt how sore it felt. "Fuck baby, you alright?" Toji asked, reaching his hands out to push your hair away from your face, his hands grabbing your shoulders and rubbing up and down along them.

You couldn't respond yet as you continued coughing out the flem from your throat, trying to get a full breath of air before you spoke. "Couldn't breathe, huh? Were you scared?" Toji asked, his hands cradling your face as your coughing calmed down, your hand coming up to wipe your spit-slicked mouth with the back of your hand as you nodded at him.

"Shit, I'm sorry sweet thing. Didn't mean to scare you." He smiled at you, the scar on his face stretching as his lips curled up. Your eyes met his darker ones as his thumb slid under your eye to wipe away your tears, his gaze watching you carefully. "You wanna be done for tonight?" He asked, making sure you were tapped out completely. When you nodded he nodded back and reached one of his hands down to pull his boxers over his hard cock before he sat next to you on the bed, pulling your body close to his.

"Maybe that was too much too soon, huh?" He asked, his large hand rubbing the side of your head. You nodded, staying silent as he calmed you down, your heart still fighting to slow down in your chest, trying to recover from such a scare. "That's alright, we can take it slow next time. It was my fault, got too excited." Toji whispered as you shut your eyes and let yourself melt against his warm palm.

"You did so good though, y'know that?" He added, making you bury your head deeper into the crook of his neck, resulting in his smile growing. "Made me feel so good princess." He praised, rubbing your head soothingly. "Thank y-ou." You whispered hoarsely, your voice making Toji cringe when he realized the damage he had done to your vocal cords. "Let's get you all cleaned up and I'll make you somethin' for 'ur throat. You sound horrible." He laughed, ruffling your hair as he spoke. 

[kissforyouu]

forgive me now?

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff , slight angst

warnings : arguing , mentions of sexual activities

a/n : FINALLY an update. 😓😓 unedited btw

this is a continuation from my previous text au btw!

you stand awkwardly in your friend's yard, clutching onto your little pink suitcase. your boyfriend said he would pick you up and that there was no need for you to call a cab home. usually, this would've been fine. much much much better than the cab even. but not now. the small argument you had with jungkook last night would definitely make things a little awkward between you guys. it was always like that. silent treatment until one of you gets impatient. that's usually jungkook. and it will be jungkook this time as well.

you kick some rocks on the ground while mina tells you and jihyo about some video games she's been playing. you mindlessly nod, not paying any attention to what she's really saying. you feel bad, but you're just not in the mood right now.

all you could think about was the argument. you were aware from the beginning about how overprotective jungkook actually was. you didn't mind it. not one bit. in addition to that, you always felt an underlying effect from whatever he did. it was arousing to say the least. but anyway. he called you a bitch. much worse, noh? how could he.

your eyes dart to the direction of the horn of the car you're so familiar with, emitting a soft sigh along the way. jungkook pulls up in his mercedes benz sl 63 amg, rolling down those expensive ass windows to look at you. he gets out of the car and tries to make an effort to carry your luggage but you don't let him, giving him the cold shoulder. jungkook grits his teeth, eyes scanning your figure up and down as you set your luggage in the back of his car then hug your girls goodbye.

once you were done with your goodbyes and back in front of his car, he tries to open the door for you but you ignore him once again, proceeding to open the backseat's door. you never did that. you were always his passenger princess. always.

the thought that he may have actually fucked up clouds your boyfriend's mind. jungkook closes the door with a thud, clearly frustrated. your friends weren't a helping hand either. instead, they were giving him mean glares. they never liked jungkook much. i mean, to a certain extent they did. but it wasn't enough.

the tall man sighs, his upper body fully turned to face you in the backseat. you weren't paying him any attention and instead, face buried in your phone when it should be in between his pecs, giving him the fattest hug ever while saying you missed him. but nah. eh, he really did fuck up.

jungkook glances at your friends a last time, the scowl on their faces never leaving. he scoffs, starting the engine of the car and beginning to drive out of your friends' sight.

jungkook looks at your reflection through the mirror, while doing that thing again. poking his cheek with his tongue. hot. you try your best not to look.

"you're so dramatic. talk to me."

suddenly, you break out of your stoic expression, jaw opening a little as you stared at your boyfriend in disbelief.

"me? jungkook, look at yourself! you said you would track down my phone to find my location if i didn't answer!"

"and you know damn well i would."

"i— well, that isn't the point here! the point is—"

"honey, we're past that, don't you think? just forget it." he grunts, completely discarding my opinion.

"no. calling me a bitch was too far. you don't get to disrespect me like that. who do you think you are?"

jungkook pauses for a few seconds, taking his time to think of what to reply with. he got silenced, for sure. then he sighs again, opening his mouth to speak again. no. ugh, fuck. you hate when he's like this. why is he acting like he's...tolerating you?

"get on the front." jungkook clicks his tongue, patting the empty passenger seat.

you so clearly refuse, stomping your heal on the carpet of the car as a sign of rejection. jungkook doesn't have any of that, immediately parking the car on the edge of the road. he gets out of his car and walks to the other side of the car, now in front of you. jungkook opens your door and pats his thigh—another signal for you to get on the front. you refuse again though, looking somewhere else.

"brat." he mumbles under his breathe. your boyfriend grabs your arm and pulls your body upwards. you wince a little, finding his touch a little too harsh.

"wait, shit, sorry." his thumb lightly brushes over the spot where he grabbed you gently, then sweetly giving it a few kisses after.

"get on the front seat, baby." his tone was sweet this time, like honey. he was speaking to you as if you were a flower who could get destroyed even from the slightest breeze.

and you just couldn't refuse. you listen to him this time instead of being whatever he calls you, a "brat". you sit on the passenger seat, crossing your legs over one another. but you still weren't looking at him. attitude much, huh?

jungkook groans at your behaviour. he loved it though. found it rather hot although sometimes it was a little too hard to deal with.

he suddenly grabs your jaw, his touch gentle but strong, tightly gripping your face but enough to not hurt you. he has your face turned to his side, forcing you to look at him.

"look at me at least."

you stay silent. your eyes drop down to his lap, legs spread and meaty thighs flexing.

"y/n."

one small look at his face, you break down to a whine. you pucker your lips into a pout, squeezing your eyes shut in irritation.

"i'm really sorry, my love. i admit that it was very wrong and inappropriate of me. i won't say that again, hm? i'll do whatever you want. just please talk to me."

"apologising isn't going to work."

"fine. i'll take you anywhere, buy whatever you want. hell, i'd buy you the entire world, you know that?"

your lips tremble and you grunt, "stop thinking that buying me everything would fix every single problem! it won't! why are you so good at finding solutions for every single problem that includes everything BUT yourself?! it's so frustrating, jungkook! yesterday, you could've literally just called me!—"

"you didn't answer! i called you so many fucking times, noh? did you answer once? nah."

"THAT doesn't matter! it was just...like, one day, jungkook!"

"yeah, and? who knows what would've happened? i was thinking of every single possibility. did you get killed or something? had me fucking stressing for nothing." jungkook rolls his eyes, rubbing his temple.

"it was for just one day! calm down!"

"no! didn't even tell me where the fuck you were going. had to drive upto your fucking house to find out."

you pause for a second, taking a deep breath, gritting your teeth, "jungkook. stop swearing at me."

jungkook scoffs, accepting it either way with a nod.

"let's stop arguing. hate fighting with you, y'know? let's go home, y/n. this is stupid."

"you're stupid!" you fight back.

"stop acting like a kid, damn. i said sorry. we're going home."

jungkook doesn't let you continue as he turns around and sits comfortably on his seat again, eyes facing the front.

"your house or my house?"

"your house." your voice came out in a small squeek.

a few minutes pass by, jungkook managed to sneak his hand up your thigh to grope the flesh. you let him. it was one of his silly habits. each time you're in the car with him, jungkook would either hold your hand or grope your thighs. and when you questioned it, he'd say "for emotional support." what emotional support? you always found it funny. but cute though. sometimes, he'd get sneaky and slowly slide his hand downwards, little by little, and end up cupping your pussy. that itself was enough to make you go crazy. he'd start by slowly rubbing your clit through your panties, then sneakily make his way inside :) .

by now, you both had reached his house. jungkook parked his car in his garage and entered his room, who was laying on his comfy ass bed that was big enough for 5 people.

he lays down with you, big arms engulfing your smaller body. you let him, you're past the argument now. jungkook snuggles into your body, cheek smushed against your breast. his body temperature was hot, warming you up instantly.

"we good now?"

"mhm."

"talk more, baby. i want to hear you. what did you do yesterday? ate well?"

your face melts down at your boyfriend's words. cute man. cuuuuteeee. myy man. how could you ever hate him? :< . you spent the rest of the cuddling and jungkook trying to make it upto you. he gave you foot massages, back massages, made you food, watched your favourite show with you (which you've made him rewatch about 10 times already), ate you out good, ran you a bath, another foot massage, online shopped with you which resulted in him buying you goodies worth 500$ and more, head massage, fucked you good, rubbed your body to sleep and so on 😊.

maybe arguing isn't THAT bad after all.

taglist :

@fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo

[captain-hawks]

double shift

— kento nanami x f!reader

summary: Kento Nanami hates overtime, but who is he to say no when his boss asks him to go check on his wife while he's out of town?

word count: 4.2k

content: NSFW, 18+, smut, infidelity, heavy lactation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, degradation, dirty talk, squirting, breeding kink, restraints, counter sex, wet & messy

Kento’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he stares at his phone nestled in the cupholder, limbs taut with aggravation as the bored voice of his boss continues on, “She hasn’t been answering my calls all day, and I’m not flying back for another week yet. I know you’re probably about to leave the office, but I’m going to need you to stop at my house and check on her first, Nanami.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the words ‘OVERTIME’ flashing red behind his eyes and drawing forth a fresh surge of anger that has him contemplating the consequences of smashing his phone on the pavement outside and finding a new job entirely.

Today has been shit.

Capital S, Shit.

His asshole boss has been out of town for nearly a week already, every client is somehow ten times more unbearable than usual, the incompetence across the office has become a goddamn disease, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that that piece of shit is doing anything  but keeping his dick in his pants while his wife and their new baby are left home alone.

His very attractive, very lovely wife who probably has no idea what a waste of oxygen her husband is. 

You’re too fucking good for him.

And you’re also too good for Kento, who’s spent more nights than he’d care to admit furiously fisting his cock to the memory of whatever tantalizing outfit you’d turned up at the office wearing that day.

And seeing you pregnant?

While the knowledge that you were now entirely stuck with that undeserving asshole sent his blood boiling, Kento could hardly complain about the sight of you during those months, his shaft straining painfully in his slacks every time he laid eyes upon your gloriously swollen, heavy breasts. 

And the cum he splattered all over the mirror and sink after inevitably rushing out of his office when you finally left? Well, that was between him and the four walls of the men’s bathroom. 

So after the awful day he’s already had, Kento’s not sure he can imagine a worse type of overtime than waltzing into your house and playing the part of a dutiful employee checking in on his boss’s wife, acting like he doesn’t want to fuck you so bad it’s driving him up a goddamn wall.

But he’ll fucking do it.

Of course he will. 

“Sure,” he replies tersely, before hanging up and peeling out of the parking lot.

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

She’s finally asleep.

Sighing weakly in relief, you close the door to your daughter’s bedroom and shuffle down the hallway. You make it all the way to the kitchen before you’re forced to lean heavily against the countertop, gritting your teeth as another wave of discomfort radiates from your sore, swollen breasts. 

“Hello?” a familiar, male voice tentatively calls out in a hushed tone.

You whip around, still clutching the counter for support, eyes widening at the side of Kento Nanami standing in the doorway to your kitchen. 

“Hi?” you respond, your heart doing a somersault as you drink in the sight of his tall, muscled form. 

He twirls a key around his finger twice before catching it in the palm of his hand and stuffing it in his pocket. “I apologize for barging in, but your spare key hiding spot is shit, and I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake the baby.”

“It’s okay, Nanami,” you assure him, the erratic thrumming in your chest far from a feeling of fear.

For whatever reason, he appears to be attempting to avert his eyes after glancing over at you quickly, roughly running a hand through his hair. “Your husband asked me to check on you. He said he hasn’t heard from you all day,” he explains carefully. 

“Well, I figured it would be rude to interrupt the wild orgies he pays for with the company credit card,” you deadpan.

Nanami’s jaw ticks, “He—”

“I’m well aware of what he does.”

“Then why—”

“Because I realized too late, and I’m too tired to do anything about it right now,” you sigh, wincing at the continuous ache of your breasts.

And it’s then that you realize why Nanami’s been looking anywhere but at you directly.

You’re wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and knee-high socks, which in and of itself isn’t overtly reprehensible, given that you’re in your own house, you have a four-month-old child, and you can’t remember the last time you got a full night’s rest. The issue is that your breasts are so sore and tender right now, you haven’t been able to even look at a bra in days. 

Which, once again, wouldn’t be an issue alone in the privacy of your home…when one of your husband’s employees isn’t desperately trying not to acknowledge the fact that two large wet spots have soaked through your shirt. 

“I should…” you trail off awkwardly, glancing around the room in hopes that you left one of your flannel over shirts lying within reach. 

“It’s fine,” Nanami blurts out, scratching the back of his head and studiously feigning interest in the collection of party invites and shopping lists stuck to the side of your fridge. 

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s not fine. 

It’s anything but fine. 

It’s a complete fucking disaster. 

Kento hasn’t seen you since you gave birth. And despite how exhausted he knows you are—he can see it in the bags under your eyes and the limpness of your posture— your soft pregnancy glow has transformed into a postpartum radiance that has his breath catching in his throat each time his eyes sweep over you. 

You’re fucking stunning. 

And somehow, he knows your husband hasn’t noticed this. Hasn’t told you how incredible you are, how fantastic motherhood looks on you. It sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through him, the mere thought that he could bear to let himself stray from you—especially now, at such a vulnerable time. 

But any hopes Kento had of trying not to commit this sight of you to memory were swiftly dashed the moment he noticed the wet spots on your shirt. 

Even now, when he’s looking at a box of cereal on the counter as if it’s the most interesting thing in the entire world, every layer of his inner psyche is rapidly overheating at the thought of your heavy, swollen breasts. The milk leaking from them, soaking through your clothes and inevitably trailing down your stomach. 

He needs to fucking leave. Now. 

“I should go—“

“—do you want some tea?”

You both speak at the same time, and when Kento turns to face you again, you’ve slipped a blue flannel shirt on, buttoning it up partway. As if his traitorous cock will somehow forget what he now knows is obscured underneath the added layer of material. But despite the growing discomfort swelling and throbbing against the zipper of his pants, he concedes, his need to quell the apparent loneliness in your eyes with a moment of company winning out over his lust-addled desire to disappear to the nearest private place to jerk off. 

He’s thankful to sit after you pour him a cup, hiding any and all evidence of what a terrible man he is beneath the table, one leg idly bouncing as he wills his hard on to go down. It’s a big ask, though, given that you’re probably not even aware of what you’re doing to him when you lean your body over the kitchen island with your mug clutched between your fingers as you idly chat with him, your oversized shirt just barely masking the flash of pink panties it reveals beneath each time your shoulders bounce as you laugh. 

He’s two seconds from excusing himself to put his fucking dick in the freezer. 

His chair scrapes against the tile floor as he pushes it back, having decided he’s at his limit, but he pauses when a pained sound escapes your lips. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, hurrying over to where you’re now pressing your forehead against the island countertop, whimpering softly. His hand hovers for a moment before he opts to gently touch your shoulder, just to let you know he’s there. 

Your fingers scrape over the marble as you breathe out in a quiet voice, “No.”

As if on instinct, Kento begins to rub small, comforting circles into your upper back, his tentative touches growing more confident when he feels your tense body behind to relax slightly. 

“What’s wrong? What can I do?”

You whine again, standing up straighter but keeping your back to him as you clutch at your chest. “They…they hurt so bad.”

Kento’s halfway certain his soul has left his body as he watches, stunned, while you slide your hands up under your shirt and squeeze at your breasts, exhaling a chorus of breathy little sounds like the fucked up cherry on top. 

“Do you need to…” he trails off, and though you can’t see from where he’s standing behind you, he vaguely gestures in the general direction where he can only surmise the baby’s room is. 

“It’s…they’re clogged,” you whisper, elbows lifting up and revealing the small of your back as you begin to knead your tits desperately. “They’ve been so sore and swollen for days.”

Kento bites his lower lip, mentally steadying himself for a moment before he asks, “Tell me how I can help.”

“Can you grab a clean washcloth out of the drawer next to the sink and soak it in hot water?”

He swiftly complies with your request, returning moments later after wringing out the small towel and waiting for it to cool down slightly. You’re still using the counter to steady yourself, so he approaches you from behind and goes to hand you the washcloth, only to find his hand immediately pinned between your own and one of your breasts. 

You let out a whimpering cry of relief, and it takes everything in him not to let out the noise rumbling in his own throat as you squeeze his hand over your tit. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “It just feels so…”

“It’s okay,” Kento murmurs. “Relax.”

Internally, every single warning bell inside of his head is blaring indignantly over the fact that he’s got his hand under his boss’s wife’s shirt, and he’s massaging her lactating breasts with a hot towel while she whimpers and presses into his touch. 

But your fingers are laced with his, and you’re not telling him to stop. 

In fact, you’re begging him to keep going, keeping a hold of his left hand when he switches the towel to his right, urging him to massage both of your tits at the same time. And who is he to tell you no?

Kento’s fairly certain his balls are going to be aching for days when he feels the warm liquid that begins to coat his fingers.

Fucking fuck. 

What the fuck is he doing?

Then your back arches as you outright moan when he brazenly toys with both of your nipples at the same time, milk squirting out, your ass pressing directly into his throbbing erection. 

And fuck it, fuck dignity, because Kento’s on the verge of coming in his pants. 

But then you spin around to face him, your back pressed into the island as you gaze at him shyly and say, “I…I think I need more.”

Your eyes flick from his mouth back down to your breasts, and he cups the side of your face as he asks, “Are you sure?”

You nod, slipping your shirt off entirely and tossing it aside, and Kento’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the trails of milk leaking from your tits, wondering how he’d ever thought to call today ‘Shitty’. 

He motions toward the counter, his large hands grasping your waist to help you get seated up on top of it, fingertips hesitant to pull away from your lacy panties when he spies the wet spot over your cunt. 

Kento has never thought of himself as a greedy man. Far from it, actually. 

But the moment his mouth latches onto one of your hot, swollen breasts, pulling a shameless moan from your pretty lips as your thighs wrap around him, the sweet taste of your milk hitting his tongue, he feels fucking insatiable. 

His mind is a buzz of static as he drinks from your tits, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, precum soaking through his boxers and slacks. Your fingers tangle in his hair, the heel of your foot pressing into his back and pulling him closer, and he groans, one hand grasping your upper thigh as he teases your nipples between his teeth and squeezes a spray of liquid onto his gluttonous tongue. 

“Feels so good, Nanami,” you whine, fingertips sliding down the front of his dress shirt, catching on each button.  

“Kento,” he exhales, licking up the milk dripping down your chest. 

“Kento,” you moan, tugging hard on the tousled blond strands that have fallen onto his forehead. 

And at the sound of your breathy, wrecked tone moaning out his name for the first time, every nerve ending in Kento’s body goes up in flames. 

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Nothing has ever felt this good. 

Nothing. 

Kento Nanami’s sinful mouth is latched onto your heavy, engorged tits, greedily drinking every spurt of breast milk that comes leaking out of you, the flow growing steadier with each lap and squeeze. 

He has no fucking clue that most of your impromptu visits to the office are actually to see him. To talk to him, if only for a few moments. Kento Nanami, who has always treated you with unfailing kindness under his sometimes brash exterior. Who extends more patience toward you than all of his coworkers combined. 

He has no idea how trapped you feel in your marriage, how often you’ve longed for the bland touch of your husband in bed to be his. 

He doesn’t know how many times you’ve brought yourself over the edge with your fingers with his face lingering in your mind, the rough, teasing sound of words you’ve imagined in his voice playing out in your head like the most sinful soundtrack you’ve ever heard. 

And now he’s grunting and moaning as he makes a mess of both of you, his lips and chin gleaming with the same wet, sticky milk that’s all over your chest and thighs and his hands and pooling on the countertop beneath you. 

It’s filthy.

It’s so fucking filthy. 

And maybe it’s wrong. 

But you’re so desperate for him. For this. You need more. You need it so badly, you can hardly breathe. Searing desire is coiled so tightly in your abdomen, you’re trembling with restraint, aching with the desire to beg him to fuck you. You know he wants it, too, though. It’s hard to miss the thick, mouth-watering outline of his cock straining against his pants, like a beacon waiting to fulfill your darkest desires. 

It’s a line you know he won’t cross unless you ask for it. 

“Kento,” you murmur again, pulling his face up to meet yours. 

“Mmm?” he asks, pupils blown wide with lust, and you can tell he’s slightly dazed, drunk off of the taste of the milk leaking from your tits. 

You lean closer, letting your lips hover over his, Kento’s breath mingling with your own as you whisper, “Please touch me.”

He gently pushes your thighs further apart, carefully running a finger over the front of your panties. His voice is a rough, gravelly sound as he asks, “Here?”

A thrill shoots up your spine at the feather-light touch. “Yes.”

“More?” he questions, his lips brushing against your mouth as he hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them aside. 

“More,” you keen, bucking into him as his knuckles graze your clit. 

He slides a finger through your folds, visibility shuddering as he comments, “You’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” you pant, trying to resist the urge to shamelessly start riding his hand. 

Kento’s mouth engulfs yours in a rough, hungry kiss at the same moment he slides a thick digit into your cunt, and he swallows down the whimpering cry of pleasure that spills out of you. His lips are relentless as they slot against yours, and you arch into him, every part of your body drawn to his blazing touch on your skin. 

You can taste the remnants of your breastmilk on Kento’s lips, but you don’t care as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you so deeply it makes your toes curl, one hand cradling the back of your head while he stuffs a second finger into your hole. 

And just when you thought you couldn’t get any more sensitive under his touch, he dips his head back down to continue ravishing your forgotten breasts, pumping his soaked fingers in and out of your pussy all the while. 

“Kento,” you whimper, chest heaving as you press your heels into the cabinets below, every muscle in your body going taut under the onslaught of arousal coursing through you. 

“Can you come for me?” he asks, his gravelly, barely restrained tone searing itself into your mind. 

It’s the combination of his thumb massaging circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves and the sight of milk dripping down his chin as he messily drinks from you that sends you tumbling over the edge, the rubber band inside of you snapping like a whip as your orgasm washes over you. There’s an unfamiliar feeling that accompanies it, clear liquid squirting from your cunt and soaking the front of Kento’s dress shirt. 

Kento’s eyes darken a fraction as he grasps your chin, thumb pressing into your bottom lip. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing you. “Good fucking girl.”

Hand reaching between your bodies, you grasp his cock through his slacks, marveling at how maddeningly thick he feels. 

“I want you to fuck me now, Kento,” you tell him in no uncertain terms, rubbing your palm up and down his erection for good measure. “Fuck me like I’m a bad girl.”

Kento growls, hand palming the side of your neck, thumb caressing your collarbones, “You have no fucking clue what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

You’ve hardly had a chance to unbutton his pants before he’s slipping your panties down, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands come up to undo his tie, but rather than tossing the silky material aside, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he steps around the island, pulling your hands behind your back and tying your wrists together snugly with the yellow and black material. Anticipation zings through your chest, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your sensitive cunt. 

“Is that too tight?”

You shake your head. “It’s perfect.”

He wastes no time in shedding the rest of his clothes, and you find yourself pressing hard against the restraints once you see his cock in all its glory, thick and flushed and so fucking big that you whimper.  

You spread your legs wide for him again as he steps between them, rubbing the leaking head of his cock against your damp slit. He notches it at your entrance, tilting your chin to his mouth and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

Kento’s hands grasp your hips as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance, slowly easing into you. He massages your breasts, his hot mouth nipping and lapping a trail from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe while he pushes deeper into your cunt. When he eventually bottoms out, you’re both breathing hard, and his tie is fighting for its life to keep your wrists bound behind you. 

“Are you okay?” 

You let out a huff of air, your entire body poised to implode with the weight of the lust and pleasure raging inside of you. “Fuck me like you mean it, Kento.”

Whatever thinly veiled restraint was left in him crumbles to dust at your request, and Kento tugs you closer to the edge of the counter as he begins to pound into your cunt at a ruthless pace, splitting you open right in the middle of your kitchen. The cool marble is slick and sticky beneath you, covered in a myriad of filthy fluids that continue to leak out of you. 

“So beautiful,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough snap of his hips. 

“I feel like a whore,” you admit, biting your lower lip, tits bouncing heavily with his punishing thrusts. 

A short, dark laugh escapes Kento’s lips, his brows raising. He leans in, stuffing his cock deep into your cunt as he presses his mouth to yours and murmurs, “Well you’re my pretty, filthy whore.”

If your husband talked to you like this, you’d slap him. But from Kento…the liquid heat that churns in your belly is anything but anger. 

“Am I?” you ask, trying to sound as innocent as you can when he’s balls deep inside of you. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, not missing a beat as he catches on to what you want to hear. He squeezes your tits, milk squirting everywhere. “My dirty slut. You’re such a good girl, making a such a fucking mess. Squirting all over me while your tits leak everywhere.”

You gasp as he leans down, burying his face in your tits, latching on to one of your nipples and drinking deeply from you again. The combined feeling of him sucking on your breasts and the push and drag of his shaft inside of you leaves you cock drunk, begging and babbling senselessly as tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Wanna put another baby in you, keep these nice and round and full for me,” he grunts, letting milk spray from your tits and leak down your bodies, dripping down his cock and coating his balls. 

The thought leaves you dizzy and breathless, keening as you imagine Kento filling you over and over with his seed. Waking up each morning to his cock already stuffed inside of you, fucking the previous night’s cum right back into your needy cunt. Tying you up to your bed posts with that goddamn tie. The satisfaction on his face when your breasts grow heavy and your belly grows round again for him, awakening something so feral inside of him he’s incapable of keeping his mouth off of your tits and his cock from the heat between your thighs whenever you’re alone. 

Rational thinking is a thing of the past as you choke out, nearly sobbing with pleasure, cunt squelching wetly as he pounds into you, “Fill me, Kento. Please.”

Kento curses, leaning in to caress the side of your face as he mutters, “My filthy girl.���

“Yours,” you pant. “I’m yours.”

He captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss, fingers grasping your hips for purchase as he plunges into your cunt, drawing shuddering, unabashed moans out of you. “Come all over my cock then,” he instructs, his rough tone dragging down your spine, fingers toying with your clit while your pussy clenches down on every inch of him. 

And when he leans down, holding eye contact with you as he licks up a forgotten trail of milk rolling down one of your tits, there’s nothing that can stop the searing explosion of pleasure that ignites inside of you, your entire body trembling with the relentless, burning hot flood of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

He follows moments after you, driving his length in to the hilt as he groans, fingers gripping you tightly, his thick cock pulsing heavily inside of you as he fills your cunt deeply with ropes of cum. As fucked out as you feel, you can’t help but whine at the ceaseless arousal that stirs within your gut as your pussy quivers around the stretch of his cock, milking every drop of Kento’s seed from him. 

Kento feels you subtly rocking your hips back into him, and his answering chuckle is like warm honey as he reaches between you. He plays with your overstimulated clit, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as his seed begins to leak out of you. You moan softly, head falling against his shoulder, pleasure mounting inside of you once more. Leveraging what remains of his softening cock, he slowly fucks his cum back inside of you, his rough whispers of praise a warm caress against the shell of your ear as your entire body dissolves into one last blissful climax that leaves you completely boneless. 

You have all of two minutes to bask in the afterglow, Kento’s hands and lips tenderly mapping out your body, when the sound of your phone ringing on the countertop beside you startles you both. Your gaze meets his as you both see the unwelcome name that flashes on the screen, and he promptly flips your phone over and scoops you into his arms as he makes his way toward the living room.

“If I’m working overtime, I’m making this a double shift.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

cw: situationship simon you will always be famous, jealousy, f oral receiving, not edited, written on mobile during my lunch break lolz.

simon knows he’s no stranger to conflict. it’s intertwined with what he does and who he is. so when you come to him putting your foot down demanding answers about your relationship he figures he’ll let you throw your fit and sort you out when he gets back.

it’s a 3 month deployment, one of those that need a 6 month rest to recoup. when he gets back it’s easy to fall into his normal routine again. he spends his first night back at his usual bar, a seedy little thing downtown that gets crowded quickly. something he’s willing to compromise on since they have his favorite beer on tap.

he’s on his third beer of the night when he hears the chime of the entrance door. only this time he hears a voice that he is familiar with. very familiar with. he his quickly snaps up at the sound to see you. you’re in his favorite skirt one he’s pulled off of you in the back of his truck many times, and short little black number with a lacy top.

he doesn’t have time to gaze and your legs before he zeroes in on the hand at the small of your back, ushering you towards a table in the corner. he grits his teeth. when he said he’ll let you have your fuss he didn’t mean in the form of a fucking date. he stares unashamedly so, paying no more mind to the game playing on the bars dingy telly overhead. he knows you haven’t seen him or else you would’ve turned and walked right back out. he decides he’ll bid his time watching you and your date sit in a booth tucked away into the corner. he scowls as he watches your date lean in to put his hand on your thigh while you scan the drink menu. prick wouldn’t even know what to do with you if he had you, sweetheart. he watches you give him a polite smile. it makes him snort. dickhead didn’t even let you sit on the inside of the booth.

you lean in whispering something to your date making him nod. simon watches you stand and make way towards the washroom at the back scooting by tipsy patrons and disappearing behind the washrooms door. he looks back over to your booth watching your date tap away in his phone. idiot didn’t even have the decency to walk you to the loo. simon waits all of 15 seconds before he rises, chair scraping across the floorboards, dropping a few bills on the bar top.

you reapply your lipgloss in the foggy mirror of the bathroom. when you agreed to go out on a date you thought a nice place to eat. not some bar that make the bottom of your shoes stick. you take a big sigh, if anything you’ll get a few free drinks and make the most of it.

the door swings open, wood groaning with the force behind it, the click of the lock following quickly behind the sound. you turn towards the sound freezing when you see simon standing looking comically large in the small room. “simon? what the hell! this is the ladies room.” you say in disbelief. he ignores your comment and takes long strides towards you boots making a resounding thud with each step. he crowds you against the counter top craning his neck to look you in the face. “ye done throwing a fit?” his voice deep with irritation.

you look at him like he sprouted a third eye, “excuse me?” your reply laced with annoyance at his audacity.

“don’t be difficult.” simon says more of a command than anything. you open your mouth just to quickly close it. even with the tension, the air is thick with heightened emotion. “he’s not your type.” he says with a tight clench of his jaw.

you scoff at his words, “is this what this is about? you followed me into the ladies room to talk about my date?” simon’s eye twitches with your admission that you are, in fact, on a date. he feels jealousy flare deep in his chest. “ye wastin yer time with him.” he ignores your comment about him being in the ladies room. he could give less of a fuck.

you tilt your head watching the muscle in his jaw twitch. “that all?” you say hoping to end his questioning. simon grinds his teeth at your stubborn attitude hands one either side or you gripping the shabby counter. he’s not one to mince words, he considers your question staring at you with intense and dark eyes. he knows he’s being unreasonable that he should step back let you get back to your date. but simon is nothing if not stubborn, more so than you.

before he can say anything there a sharp knock at the door. simon looks at the door, an irritated look flashing across his face. “simon.” you plead with him. there’s a pause before the knocks come again in quick succession. “fuck off! it’s taken.” simon barks towards the door before turning back to you. you watch the rise and fall of his chest, muscles in his arms taut with tension, you notice the way he fills out his shirt the fabric stretching across his chest. you trying swallowing down the desire that’s been building ever since he trudged into the washroom. your on a date for god’s sake.

simon notices the look in your eye and that’s all the permission he needs before he’s hoisting you up onto the counter with his palms burning into the back of your thighs. you squeak at the sudden movement and instinctively open your legs wider giving way to simon’s wide torso. a hand tangles in your hair and tugs your head back barring your neck to him. he leans down, lips against the shell of your ear, voice gruff “if you wanted a fuck you come to me, understood? don’t need no prick trying to feel you up when you got me.” you nod as much as best as you can with the way simon has your head at an awkward angle.

“good.” simon pulls back loosening his grip of your locks and slides his hands down to squeeze the fat of your hips. “now behave and i’ll make it good for you.”

you immediately lean back on your forearms and widen your legs. simon grins at your obedience, canines peeking out from his top lip. he makes quick work of pushing your skirt up to your belly. you hiss as thighs and ass make contact with the cold surface. simon rubs your thighs with big warm hands as an apology. you whine as his fingers close around the band of your lacy black pair of panties tugging them down and off your legs. you feel the cool air hit your center and you see simon pocket them. filthy bastard.

he kneels with a groan taking in your cunt like it’s the first time he’s seen one and he stares like it’s the last time. pinning your thighs to your chest, he looks up through his lashes, “help me out here pretty thing.” he spreads your folds apart with both thumbs and lets out a deep groan.

you’re about to tell him to get on with it when he leans in and gets his mouth on the entirety of your mound. you grip the back of your thighs trying to ground yourself. simon dips his tongue in licking at your opening as your mouth drops open. you nearly sob when he adds a finger in and pulls back with a cocky grin. before you can tell him to piss off he introduces another finger making you whine out like a wounded animal. his mouth returns to tongue at your clit while he curls his fingers hitting a spot that has you jerking. he pulls back grinning and looks up “that the spot, pretty girl?” you nod quickly not caring how desperate you must look with your legs to your chest, feet grazing the top of simon’s shoulders, crying into the air. “yeah i know, sweet thing. yer just gaggin for it. cunts leakin all over my hand.” his words make you clench hard, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. simon doesn’t let up stretching you out with rough fingers giving a low growl into your cunt.

“simon” you mewl dropping your thighs to tug at the tufts of hair between your thighs. he groans, your sounds fueling simon as he speeds up his fingers knowing your close. you cry out chanting simon, simon, simon, please. he leans in to suck at your clit, hard, all while hitting that sweet spot. you come with a sharp pull of his cropped hair and a sob, ears closing around his head. he licks you through it until you’re forced to yank his head back from the overstimulation. he leans back on his haunches, big paws running up and down your thighs, and gives you a dopey grin.

“i can’t feel my legs.” you say in a hoarse voice, trying to catch your breath.

“yeah, m’not surprised. you came hard pretty hard, sweet girl.” simon stands to his full height, not missing the way your cheeks heat up at his words. he chuckles at your sudden shyness, a deep sound that vibrates throughout his chest. he circles his arms around your waist bringing you to sit upright at the edge of the sink.

his hand cradles the back of your neck forcing you to meet him halfway. he gives you a deep kiss, licking the front of your teeth, and sucking at your bottom lip before he pulls away. “ready to go home now?” he says with affection in his eyes.

the reality of where and who you are with dawns on you and you sit upright in a panic. “oh fuck.” you try to keep your voice steady. simon raises an eyebrow at your anxious state. “my date. i left him outside!” you shriek knowing you’re gonna have to go out and answer for your absence. simon clicks his tongue understanding why you’re so worried. “don’t worry bout it, pet. told him to sod off before i came in. bastard ran out before i could even threaten him” he says patting your backside in reassurance.

you let out a big sigh of relief knowing you won’t have to confront him. simon gives you a crooked smile. “ready?” he runs his hand through your hair. you give him a sweet smile and a nod.

(you make a mental note to thank soap for giving you a heads up on simon’s plans for tonight.)

[veltana]

Breaking point

✦ Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,5k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Dub-con (proceed with caution if this might trigger you), pwp, smut and a bit of fluff at the end, possessive/protective!bucky, degredation (slut, fuck doll, cum-bucket), grinding, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, pet name (sweetheart).

✦ Summary: Bucky is done with you going out with losers.

✦ Note: This used to be called I will kill them if they touch you but I never liked that title so I renamed it! Also, you guys didn't know what you were voting for, but it was the banner for this story! Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome 💚

Masterlist | AO3

"Please don't scare this one away as you did last time," you beg and look at Bucky's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He makes a face where he's leaning against the door frame behind you and then sighs when you give him a look. "He wasn't worth shit if he didn't wanna fight for you," he points out.

Now it's your turn to sigh and you cross your arms, glaring at him. "He isn't supposed to fight for me on a first date. We're supposed to have a good time and hopefully fuck." Bucky's mouth hardens, and he looks away. He doesn’t like that, at all.

Ever since you became roommates he's been very protective of you, helping you with the smallest things, driving you everywhere you need to go, even if you can drive yourself. Sometimes it's overbearing but most of the time it's nice to have someone care for you like that.

Unfortunately, recently he's picked up a habit of intimidating the people you go on dates with. He stands behind you when they come to pick you up, and his large frame and cold stare make many of them cower. A few have turned around right away, others have asked if that's your boyfriend or something, thinking it was some type of open relationship/cuckold situation.

"Don't say shit like that," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna think about you fucking other people." You can't help the teasing smile that cracks your face. "Makes you jealous?" With a huff, Bucky pushes off and leaves you to continue.

Two hours later your makeup is done and your hair fixed to perfection. You sit on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, with a glass of wine, waiting until the last minute to put on the skin-tight dress. While scrolling on your phone, Bucky sits beside you with a beer. "So where's the loser taking you?" "Don't care,” you shrug. “Honestly, my priority tonight is to get laid. The previous ones were a little too… bland. But he seems promising." "What do you mean, bland?"

Putting your phone down you look at him, "You don't wanna hear this anyway, you'll just get mad," you point out. "I don't get mad," he defends. "Pfff, you're such a liar, I can see it in your eyes whenever I mention another guy." "Because you deserve the best and all I've seen is trash."

Irritated, you put your glass down too. "Why don't you pick for me then? Who would James Bucky Barnes deem worthy of fucking me?"

The grip on his beer is so hard his knuckles whiten and his lips are a thin line. When he doesn't answer you lean back and start to count people off.

"Well, Steve seems a bit too sweet for my taste but I mean I would not mind trying a slice of that all-American beefcake," you muse. "Sam is so charming and funny! That quick tongue would probably work wonders, if you know what I mean," you wink and watch as Bucky's eye twitch, his jaw clenched hard.

"Tony," you continue. "Well, he seems a little self-absorbed but maybe he's a really selfless lover. Won't hurt to check!" "Loki is so handsome," you bite your lip. "I would surrender my body to him in a heartbeat! But I've heard that he leaves people high and dry and that would be awful."

Tilting your head, you say, "Do you think Thor and Jane would be up for a threesome? I can just imagine eating her out while he fucks me from behind and then we could-"

With a slam he puts the bottle on the table and grabs your face with his hand forcefully, silencing your tirade of words and squeezing your cheeks so that your lips pucker.

The grip is close to bruising and it's an instant pull in your lower stomach. His eyes are black with anger, something you've never seen directed at you before. "No one," he hisses. "Not one of them is fucking you, I will kill them if they touch you."

His hand releases you and grabs your neck instead. You're shocked, and instantly so horny it hurts. Opening your mouth to speak he squeezes harder, making a wheezing sound come out.

"I'll give you a chance to stop this. Tell me right now you don't want this and we'll act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I'm fucking you into this couch until you can't remember your goddamn name." When he finishes his grip lightens. The rush of blood makes you euphoric and boneless. You want to give yourself to him, let him do whatever he wants. "Fuck me," you whisper.

The kiss is more teeth than lips and the hold around your throat hardens again. You try to keep up with him but it's impossible as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch, making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. You gasp for air as he pulls away, releasing you. His gaze is brimming with lust and want now, all signs of anger gone. Then he pushes you down onto the couch.

"You're a kinky little slut, aren't you sweetheart?" he mocks and leans in over you, spreading your legs with his. All you can do is nod and try to wiggle close so you can press your center against his clothed cock. It's clearly outlined in his sweatpants and you hope it's as big as it seems. "If I put my hand down your pants, are you gonna be wet for me?" "Yes Bucky," you whine.

The throbbing is almost unbearable and his smirk is downright sinful. "Come on, rub yourself on me, show me how much you want it." With another whine, you brace yourself against the couch and lift your hips. He doesn't move a muscle to help as you struggle to find the right position.

"That's disappointing," Bucky smacks his lips and frowns. "Thought you wanted this." "I do Bucky, I do, please I'm trying," you tell him desperately. With effort, you get into a good enough position to grind your cunt on his cock through the layers of clothing. It's not nearly enough to curb the ache.

"Useless," Bucky sighs and grabs your legs. "Do I have to do everything?" He pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you in half and pushing his cock right into your core.

"Sorry," you moan. His mean words have only made you needier and you move yourself against him with abandon. Bucky is motionless above you, not making a sound or saying a word, just staring at you chasing your high. Your movements turn unsteady when you start to come close.

If you were of sound mind you would notice the glint in his eyes but instead, you’re barreling towards your climax. Until he suddenly moves away.

Gawking you stare at him and he just smiles wickedly in return. "Take off your clothes, spread your legs" he instructs and you quickly pull your pants off and discard your t-shirt and underwear, spreading your legs as best you can on the couch. Bucky takes in your bare body, moving his hands slowly down your thighs until his palms frame your pussy.

"Fucking shaved for him too,” he notes with a snarl. You're not sure why that upset him. "Sorry!" you say, just to be safe.

"I don't need your hair curled, your make-up done or your whole body shaved. I will fuck you anyway, sweetheart, no matter what you look like because you belong to me," he growls before he spits on your cunt, sending a rush through you, making you moan and spread your legs even more.

For the first time, he touches you properly, letting his fingers spread the spit all over your pussy before shoving two of them into your soaked core. He pistons them in and out, putting his thumb against your clit and making colors burst before you.

"You want to come on my fingers, you fucking slut?" When you nod frantically he instructs, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." A second after you do spit lands on your tongue and droplets on your face. It nearly tips you over.

"Swallow it," he orders and watches you as you do, some form of approval shining in his eyes for the first time. "Who do you belong to?"

The question is too complicated to understand, you can't focus on what he wants. "I don't…" is all that comes out.

"Wrong answer," he says and removes his fingers, making you shout in disappointment. Sharp slaps land on your wet cunt and you instinctively try to move away from it, but he grabs your legs, pulling you back. "Don't you fucking run from me."

"I'm sorry," you cry, looking pleadingly at him. "I'm- I'm yours James, yours to do what you want with. Please, please, please let me come!"

With a huff he pushes his fingers back in, pressing the tips into your g-spot and getting his thumb back on your clit. His unbothered state makes you feel so small and insignificant, heightening the pleasure coursing through you.

As it climbs, your body shakes, your legs trembling from being held open. "I'm- I'm- don't stop!" you beg. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of him, his other hand still gripping your thigh hard. You hope it bruises.

"I can feel you, slut!" Bucky's voice is the cherry on top of everything. "Come on my fingers, do it, come for me!" he commands and of course, you do as he wants. With a scream you convulse, almost pushing him out with the sensation flooding you. Bucky is talking above you but you're not sure what he's saying because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears.

A hard tap against your cheek makes you open your eyes. "Don't pass out on me, I'm not done with you yet." "Wouldn't dream of it," you smile dumbly, and it earns you a smile in return. But it quickly passes as he pulls off his tank top and pushes down his pants. The cock is just as big as you hoped.

He rubs the head against your soaked center, sending overwhelming sparks through you, making you twitch. When he notches the head of his dick at your opening your blood freezes. "C-condom?" you stutter.

Cocking his head he asks. "Do you really want that? Doesn't a slut like you want to be filled up with cum?" "Y-yes, but, Bucky…" you gnaw your lip.

"I want to fuck my little cum-bucket raw, make sure you feel me running out of you for days," he gives a light thrust, almost pushing inside, giving you a taste of heaven. For a second you look at each other and Bucky presses in just a little bit more. It decides it for you. "Please fill me with your cum Bucky, I need it so bad!" you whine and he chuckles before shoving his fat cock into you without mercy.

Quickly you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting his hard thrusts that are sending your body into overdrive. "Feel so fucking good sweetheart, your cunt was made for me, wasn't it?" he groans. "Yes it was," you answer breathlessly.

He grabs your face. "Those other losers are never going to satisfy you." "No, Bucky, only you!" "That's right, you're my fuckdoll now, sweetheart," he says before he leans down to kiss you. It's much sweeter this time and you grab his head, carding your fingers through his hair, feeling your chest fill with another type of warmth.

When he pulls back he says, "Beg me not to come in you." Your cunt clenches and your second orgasm is suddenly a lot closer. "Bucky, please don't… I can't get pregnant," you make your voice small and frail.

In response his laugh is cruel. "Yes you will, your purpose in life is to be bred. I'm going to cum in you every day til it sticks and then everyone will know who you belong to." "Please, pull out," you beg and reach down to rub your clit, feeling the climax shimmering underneath your skin.

"Such a bad liar, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Are you going to come on my cock? Are you gonna claim me just as I claim you?" "Yes! I just need- harder!" you pant. "Fucking hell," Bucky grunts and does as you demand.

The climax rips through you with little regard for your sanity. The sound leaving your throat makes it raw and a second later Bucky moans your name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It's almost good enough to feel him finish inside you that you come again, but you’re too spent to do more than shudder.

Then he kisses you again, sweetly, caringly, and pushes his arms in under your body to hug you close to him. "So perfect," he whispers against your mouth. The cums start to trickle out onto the couch but neither of you care, too caught up in each other's lips.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" he asks when he comes up for a breath. "I feel a little high," you confess. "Haven't been fucked that good in a long time."

There is something in his gaze that shifts and he leans his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore… I like you so much." "Lucky for you I get off on that stuff," you smile. "And if I had said stop I trust you would have."

He hugs you so hard you can hardly breathe. "Of course, I fucking would." "You can make it up to me by going tender the next time," you smile. "Next time?" "As many times as you’ll have me." He laughs into your skin. "I don't think you're ready for that!"

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell jerks the two of you apart. You stare at Bucky with wide eyes. "My date," you whisper, horrified.

With a smirk, he raises himself on his arms. "I should make you go on that date with my cum running out of you, maybe even let him get as far as spreading your legs just to see that you’re already claimed."

With a groan, you cover your face with your hands. "Don't tempt me," you tell him before wiggling out from under him, finding your clothes, and hastily pulling them on.

Opening the door just a crack, you understand you look a mess by the way your date eyes you. "Sorry," your voice is small. "I wasn't feeling great and then I fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah, you look terrible," the guy notes before handing you one of the ugliest bouquets you've ever seen. Quickly stepping away he says, "I'll call you." but you know he won't. "Great, I'll see you around," you respond before closing the door.

Bucky takes the flowers from you and shoves them in the trash before grabbing you around the waist and kissing you again. "Didn't you say he was promising?" "I have no clue what you're talking about," you answer with a completely straight face but then start to giggle as he swoops you up and carries you to his bedroom.

[teatreeoilll]

𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲 (𝗛𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗛𝗶𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶 𝗫 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿)

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w/c - 2.6k content - MDNI! 18 +, fem!reader, porn with plot, asking a man in a suit to not take it off when he fucks you, not proofread because it's so late rn, hope I'll get to it tomorrow

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When Higuruma Hiromi finished climbing up the stairs, moving slowly and sighing until he finally reached his apartment, the walls around the floor were already rhythmically humming.

"Fucking hell," It took every single ounce of strength in his body to turn away from his own door and turn to knock on the neighbors'.

Goddamn it, not him again, you think as you unlock the door, wincing at the passing thought of ever finding the grumpy, tired man waiting outside of your apartment in any way attractive.

"Yes?" You utter, cross-armed with a fake smile glazing your lips.

He stares into the space behind you for a moment before meeting your eyes, "I'm sorry to bother you," you should be sorry for bothering me, "I know we've had this discussion before," about a million goddamn times, "but if you wouldn't mind," before I go insane, "turning down the music?"

"Listen," you drawl, mimicking his calm tone through gritted teeth, "we talked this through already. It's still early, and it's not against the law to listen to music at a reasonable volume in my own apartment."

Higuruma's eye twitched at the words, still trying to retain a neutral expression. The law? You're bringing up the law? Now, Higuruma Hiromi didn't consider himself a proud man, but the next words to come out of his mouth made his self-respect plummet, "I'm sorry, it's just that ever since my wife died, I've been having trouble sleeping."

You blink slowly, your arms dropping to the sides of your body, "O-oh," you babbled, "I'm so sorry, I didn't - I - " the heat rises to your cheeks, "I'm so sorry, uh, I didn't catch your name - "

"Higuruma Hiromi," he adds.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Hiromi; I'll turn it down."

That evening, Hiromi sinks on the sofa like he's carried by angel's wings, relishing in the serene, tranquil, long-awaited silence. But something itches at the back of his mind; he spent too many days in court to know that a lie will always come back to bite.

-

"Shit," you hiss as your groceries hitting the building's floor, apples rolling on the tiles beneath you. "Stupid apples," you grumble as you stoop down, desperately trying to stuff them into your overflowing bag.

"Do you need help?" A voice behind you asks.

"It's fine," you breathe, catching another rolling apple in your hand, "I'm just here, uh, cussing at the fruit."

"I can see that," and Hiromi crouches down to help you, the fabric of his suit rustling as his pale fingers help you pick up the things off the floor.

You unlock your door, pushing it in with your shoulder, and your neighbor follows suit into your apartment.

"Where do I - " Hiromi stands at the entrance, his arms packed with your shopping.

"Oh - uh, " you walk to the kitchen counter, "right here is fine," you fix your gaze on the man unloading your shopping, a strand of hair falling on his forehead as he does. "Thank you."

After he finished, his eyes turn to find yours, and you're not quite sure why you're staring or at what, with your gaze rolling from his suit to his dark eyes, but you manage to conclude that, strangely enough, it's not unnatural to see him standing in your kitchen.

A long moment of silence graces the room before he finally utters, "It's nothing."

You thank him three more times while he exits your apartment, and he brushes off each one. It's only after he leaves that you notice the rapid pace of your heart, and you walk to the mirror to look at your face, standing before it for a moment, wondering how long it has been since you've turned this deep shade of crimson.

-

Oh god, you're so nice.

"I've brought them up for you, I hope you don't mind," you smile at your neighbor, bent over in your too-tight lounge shorts to put a stack of letters near his door, "they just seemed to be piling up."

"You really didn't have to," He mutters, crouching to meet you at the bottom of his door, gathering the letters in his hands.

But you just kept the smile on your face, so soft and considerate the pangs of guilt overturned his stomach. "Oh, and - uh," is my face growing red? "I - I baked some cookies, I mean," you falter, "I mean, I baked too many cookies. Would you like some?"

Maybe he is attractive, your neighbor, with his soft and tired dark eyes; or maybe it's the depth of sorrow you thought resided in them that made the need to help him grow.

It would be rude to decline, wouldn't it? "S-sure," he says - But it's immoral to agree, and the thought fades at the scent of fresh baked goods from your apartment already filling the hallway.

You don't mean to be rude when you walk through his door, setting a small plate of glazed lemon cookies on his old coffee table, your gaze darting to the pile of records on the shelf in the corner, "So, you do like music," you chuckle, eyes fluttering over the names on the covers.

"I do," he admits, the soft lemon cookie melting on his tongue, "But if Sinatra came here and sang while I'm trying to sleep, I don't think I'd like him that much anymore."

You catch his gaze, and your lips twitch for a moment before you burst into laughter. God, he stares at you, thinking you're an almost ethereal sight as you browse his records, perched on his old leather couch, laughing at something he said, with your smile scrunching the corners of your eyes so gracefully he thinks he just might -

"Love?" you ask.

"Yes?"

And you laugh again, "No - I meant, Love." You point at the record sitting on the top of the shelf, "Didn't take you for one to listen to them."

He coughs, a red blush dusting his pale cheeks, "It's a good album."

"It is, I don't think I've ever heard it on vinyl," you say, the palms of your hands grazing your thighs as you lift yourself up from the sofa, "Well, I think I better be off - "

"Would you like to?" He asks.

"Sure."

As you sit there, listening to the soft flamenco-style guitar flowing from the record player, it takes everything from Hiromi to calm the urge to touch you or at least hold your hand, fuck, he'd settle for a brush of your fingers against his own. Tackling these urges, blatantly ignoring the music, his mind replays the same old words he'd read countless times, a thing he usually does when he's trying to take his mind off something; - One sultry evening early in July a young man emerged from the small furnished lodging he occupied in a large five-storied house on Pereoulok S - , and turned slowly, with an air of indecision, towards the K - bridge.* *a/n: the opening line of Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

-

The faint smile you give him as you meet him at the entrance to the building makes the blood rush to his ears.

"Good evening," you say, and Hiromi thinks it really is much better now.

"Good evening," he answers, pointing at the exit, "I'm out to the convenience, do you need anything?"

You shake your head, "Thank you," you say before continuing the path up the stairs.

It's a frantic knock on the door that startles you once you're out of the shower, and you rush to open it, towel still wrapped around your damp hair.

"Yes?" Your gaze meets a young, short-haired woman, a stack of papers barely fitting in the grip of her hands.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologizes, "I must have gotten the doors mixed up, does Higuruma Hiromi live on this floor?"

You nod, pointing a finger to the door next to yours, "But I just saw him leaving."

"Oh, crap -," the woman mutters, "I'm terribly sorry to ask this, but these are for the trial tomorrow," she lifts the papers up a bit, "would you mind if I leave them with you?"

"Trial?" You inquire, already holding your hands out to take the papers.

"Yes, a boy arrested on suspicion of murder and robbery," she sighs, "he won't let it go."

You hold the stack of papers, "Hiromi's a lawyer?"

The woman chuckles, "Oh, ah - yes."

"He works so hard," you think aloud, "even after what happened to his wife."

The woman's brows furrow, "Wife? Oh god, no, Mr. Higuruma's not married."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing at her words, "Sorry - uhm, has he ever been married?"

She shakes her head, "Well, I'll just leave these with you; I'll call him so he'll pick them up once he returns," she parts with a curt bow.

-

Loud. Insufferably, overwhelmingly, dreadfully, loud. The music crashes onto the walls, making them buzz so furiously you would have missed the knock on the door if only you weren't already waiting for it.

"Yes?" you scoff at the puzzled lawyer standing at your doorstep.

Hiromi's eyebrows knit together, the music reverberating through the staircase as he asked, "It's a bit loud, don't you think?"

You step away for a moment to find the stack of papers, returning to the doorstep to shove it in his arms, "Why? Will it piss off your imaginary wife?"

Oh, he thinks, and the door slams in his face.

He goes into his apartment and places the papers on the coffee table. He sits down to read them, only to find his eyes skimming over the letters, not quite making any sense of what he's reading with the music playing through the wall and his conscience raging in his mind.

Another knock on the door, and you open it with a huff, "Forgot something?"

Hiromi stands with his arms dangling by the sides of his body, a soft look in his eyes as he mutters, "I'm sorry."

He's just a neighbor, right? A nice one, at that, with a handsome face and kind eyes. Why am I so angry? Why's the music blaring with the intent of ruining his evening? Why's he standing so close -

It's an eternity in your mind, but only a few seconds pass while you think, unconsciously staring directly at his lips. He catches that, of course, he wouldn't get anywhere in court if he wasn't mindful of nuance.

The first thing you feel is his hand grasping at the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly close to him. Next, the soft brush of his lips against yours as he breathes, "Is this alright?"

You don't answer; instead, you grasp at his arms through the fabric of his suit, capturing his lips as a fog settles in your mind, a soft hum running from your mouth to his.

His arms wander on your body while you relish in the softness of his lips; they skim across your lower back to come down and hold a firm grip on your ass when his tongue finally darts into your mouth. "Fuck," he pants, pushing you up against the wall, and you only momentarily remember you should probably close the damn door.

"Hm?" he puzzles when you break away from the kiss, watching you gesture towards the door, "I guess you can be considerate towards your neighbors," and he pushes the door, his tongue returning to your mouth before he even hears the closing thud.

It doesn't take long for him to slide his hand from your ass into your pants, long fingers gliding on your lower stomach, dragging the fabric of your underwear to the side as he rubs circles over your clit. "Don't be so quiet," he hums against your lips when he sees you biting back your moans, "Trust me, no one can hear you through this noise."

"Fuck, Hiro - " you gasp at the feeling of his fingers entering your cunt, one look at his glazed-over eyes and you try to desperately press your lips to his again, but he finds the crook of your neck instead, sucking on the skin there, leaving small bruises while his fingers glide in and out of your soaked cunt.

Each graze of his teeth against your neck makes you clench against his fingers, and he feels himself growing unbearably hard at the feeling, the slight friction of his cock rutting against the fabric of his trousers barely enough to give him some relief.

"Shit, sucking my fingers in like that - " he murmurs against your neck, the pads of his fingers caressing the spot that made you whimper, "You close?" And you feel the knot in your stomach come undone at his words, wetness gushing over his fingers as your body quivers.

You let out a choked gasp when he picks you up from the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Your clothes are discarded by the time you reach the couch, and you're trapped under him, back pressed against the sofa while the fabric of his suit rubs against your naked body.

The jacket of his suit falls to the floor, and his hand reaches to undo his tie, "N-no," you breathe, "Leave it on," you say as your hand works on the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down together with his underwear just low enough for his cock to spring out.

"Dirty," he chuckles against your lips, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You moan at the feeling, pushing your hips down to take in the tip, "I always liked lawyers," you push a hand up to grip his hair, tugging at the soft strands.

"Did you now?" His muscles tighten as he pushes his cock further into you, rolling his hips to finally bottom out inside you.

"Mhmm," you moan into his mouth, feeling your pussy push against his thrusts, drunk on the soft smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

"Hiro - " you can barely breathe out his name with the feeling of his cock working you open, your hand leaving his hair to grip at his tie dangling from his neck, holding it tightly in your fist.

"God," he groans, chasing his climax with deeper thrusts, "you really do like lawyers," he huffs as your pussy clenches against him, the heat spreading under his skin.

He pulls out, and you whimper at the absence of his cock as he flips you, your head pressed flat against the couch, your ass perked up against his hips. His thrusts feel unbelievably deeper from that angle, his hand reaching to grip mercilessly at your hair to pull your head up.

"Ah - Fuck -," you babble, "Hiro - I - ," your reach a hand to rub your clit, his thrusts a perfect pace to the coiling tension in your stomach, and he anchors his hand on the fat of your ass, fingers digging deeper as he bites back his moans, coming closer to his own release.

"I - Ah -, " and you don't even finish your moan as your back arches, heat coursing through your body as you come, feeling as if you'd collapse if not for his hand holding you up by your hair. His hips stutter, a silent 'fuck' escaping his lips as you feel his seed painting your walls, his thrusts finally slowing down.

He pulls out, releasing the grip on your hair, and you turn a flushed gaze towards him, a dazed smile glazing your lips. He adjusts himself back in his trousers, his eyes falling on the speakers on your table, still ruthlessly blasting music.

"Is this the..?" He motions towards the speakers, and you nod.

He gets up, his hand twisting the volume knob until the white mark on it touches zero. The room grows silent.

Finally, he thinks.

[peanutbubba]

Don’t Stop

Law x Gn!Reader, 6”8+ reader, reader has a dick, Sub!Bottom Law, Dom!Top Reader, size difference/kink, masturbating, fingering, Law gets caught, edging, overstimulation, 3.8k+ words, not beta read, this is shit

Truthfully, when Law got together with you he did not care for the difference in height between you, it was not one of the things that initially made him fancy you.

He was already a tall man, on top of that, his small collection of boots all had around three to four inches on them, it made it quite easy to match your height enough so he wasn’t reeling his head back to look at you. But even then, you still had a good few inches on him. He always had to tilt his chin, his eyes automatically peering through his lashes to look at you, in turn you’d look down through yours.

In no way did it help either that you had bad posture, always a little slouched no matter how many times Law told you to stand straight, not that he was one to talk.

A choked moan left him, his hand gripping tighter on your jacket and shoving it in his face.

The size difference between the two of you was never something he noticed, yet now he was practically writhing on his bed because of it.

It started innocently, a need to have something of you in his bed while you were away, so he adorned your clothing. Shamelessly he stole an entire outfit of yours, trading it for the clothes he usually wore to sleep, the scent of you invading his nose in a pleasing way.

Most likely it would have stayed innocent as well if it wasn’t for that damned mirror, his eyes narrowing at his own reflection, his face beginning to burn red.

He was practically swimming in your clothing, your shirt pooled below his hips hiding how your sweatpants barely hung to his hips. Law knew he wasn’t a small man, yet compared to you he was getting dwarfed.

Law never considered himself to be a man who had a size difference kink, you might just be changing that about him however, damn bastard.

It wasn’t his fault how he immediately went back to your wardrobe, fishing out a jacket that you wore recently still heavy with your scent, almost stumbling over your sweatpants hooking under his feet as he tried to dash for the bed.

That’s how he got here, his leg jerking up from where it’s tangled with his bed sheet, knocking his knees together accidentally as he whines and closes them.

Heaving on his back as he forces his thighs to open back up, gritting his teeth as his cold hand once more wraps around his aching dick. Jerking himself off harshly to the thought and scent of you, slightly disappointed in the back of his mind that it was him and not you touching himself like this.

Next time he was bedded by you he swore he’d take off his heels, probably even force you to screw him on the wall so he could feel your full looming height.

Tears prick at his eyes, every sensation that he was giving himself not nearly enough, a whine following from his lips because the way he touched himself was nothing compared to how you did it. Fuck he hated how he realized your height, how small he was compared to you because now his own small hand wasn’t comparing, he need you to touch him.

With a pathetic grunt he throws the jacket to the side, your smell alone nor longer enough to satisfy him. He’d be flinging colorful words at his past self if he could now because he was becoming undone by the thought of you alone, yet you were nowhere to be seen when he truly needed you. Instead he was stuck alone on a cold bed, huffing as he rutts up in his hand desperately.

He’d never cum like this, he knew that though stubbornly he continued absolutely in denial that you alone could turn him into some teenage hornball. He was in his late 20’s for fucks sake! But here he was shoving his slim fingers in his mouth the way you would, moaning softly as he presses the pads of his fingers down on his tongue. Rolling his tongue around his own fingers, coating every part of them in saliva like how he would yours, growing needier for you with each passing second as he imagined it was you doing this to him and not himself.

He pulls out his fingers from his mouth spit connecting them to his lips before breaking, gasps and soft dissatisfied moans leaving him freely now that his mouth was once more empty. Disappointedly he takes his hand off his aching cock, flipping himself over on the bed so he was on his knees, his back arched and legs spread wide like you truly were behind him.

Law should have been embarrassed, ashamed that greedily he was back to fisting his cock, his other hand reaching behind and prodding at his hole. He could not think of anything but the thought of how glorious his climax would be, or how he got considerably more excited at the thought of you having finished your mission and walking in on him.

Would you be surprised? Angry? He honestly hopes you just take control of him, help run him off to the finish line as you usually would. Though, knowing you, you’d probably tease him about it. Law bucks his hips in his hand biting his lip to refrain from making any noises, his toes curling at thoughts of how you’d mess with him.

Without any other delay he pushes his fingers into his hole, whimpering at the feel of his touch on his own walls. Cozying the side of his face on to the sheets of your shared bed, hips wiggling in the air excitedly as inked fingers work past the subtle soreness in them.

Never in his life had he wished that he had more hands then right now, he desperately wished he could play with other parts of his body the same way you would when having sex with him. Ruining the sheets under him mindlessly, spit spilling from his open lips, precum also leaking past his fingers and onto the bed sheets.

A frustrated look about him as he shuts his glazed over eyes tightly trying to concentrate, a sheen of sweat covering him as he angrily fought over whether it was more worth it to thrust into hand or buck back into his fingers.

Small whine and whimpers fell from his mouth, a testament to how he was working himself to an inch of his life, so needily searching for the same high you usually gave him.

The only thing that made him stop was when heard the door open, his stomach immediately twisting in anxiety as someone walks in on him. Immediately he’s pulling his hands off of himself, as if fire licked his skin enough to burn, pulling the sweatpants back over his hips as he turns around flustered to see who was in his room.

His eyes widen and face flushes even more when he sees it's you, staring back at him equally shocked. Pure silence fills the room for a good few seconds before you’re closing the door behind you, the only sound being the metal lock closing the door permanently and you quickly shuffling over to him.

A shudder comes over him as you grab his ankle from the end of the bed, your large hand wrapping around it easily as you pull him down to you, a small squeak leaving Law but he doesn’t fight against you.

“Y/N-ya, what are you doing?” He asks, his brows furrowing as his hands grip at the end of your shirt, pushing it back down over his stomach after the bed lifts it up.

His breathing hitching as he hears your laughter, your once tired face now beaming up at him with pure joy. “What am I doing? What were you doing?! In my clothes no less,” you cheekily tease.

Law’s nose scrunches up in embarrassment, turning his head away from you as his lips go in a tight line, tense as he grapples with if he should tell you or not. It's not that he needed to, he knows that you know what you were doing, you were just playing games with him, seeing if he would actually say it with his own mouth.

You, thankfully, don’t force him to say anything. Knocking his shoulder with your head you rest there for a second, hands coming up and brushing against his body hidden by your clothing, a whine being bitten back by Law.

“Let’s play a game,” you suggest quietly, kissing along the skin exposed by your dipping shirt’s neckline, “unless you’re not up for the challenge?”

Law scoffs, offended that you would even say something like that, “You’re on.”

“Good!” You chirp, lifting yourself back up and away from him, “All you have to do, is make sure my clothes don’t fall.”

A smug expression appears on Law’s face, he had this challenge in the bag then if you were going to make it so easy. He watches how you mess with your boiler suit for a moment, taking it off before you move over to the dresser for a moment, coming back with a lubed up cock.

He practically drools at the sight, whimpering silently at the mere sight of your massive dick, his stretched hole twitching in need to be filled by it. Your massive hands finding his body and flipping him over on his stomach easily, Law gasps letting go of the shirt and trying to go up on his hands before you softly gripping the back of his head, pushing his face down back on the sheets leaving him with a heated face.

Pushing down your sweatpants just enough off his hips to expose his ass to the cold air you let out a chuckle, only vibrating more with laughter when he hisses at how you lift his hips up with one hand, his knees barely grazing the bed now.

Letting go of his head you take your own lubed up dick in your hand, lining it up with Law’s hole and carefully pushing into him. Paying close attention to make sure you’re not hurting him, you were much bigger than him, it was only fair for you to treat him so daintily even if Law despised it.

And when you finally bottom out you wait for a few moments, letting Law adjust to your size as he groans and writhes in the sheets, clenching it under his hands. Wiggling his hips as an okay he’s sorely disappointed when you still don’t move.

Looking past his shoulder he scowls at you, baring teeth angrily, “What the fuck?”

You don’t say anything back, simply a knowing smile on your face as your free hand clasps on his exposed stomach. Law gasps, freeing his hands from the sheets and tugging down the end of your shirt to cover his stomach, shoving your hand off him in the process as he glares at you.

The pissed expression on his face doesn’t last long however, being interrupted by a moan when you pull your hips back before harshly thrusting back into him, his hole immediately clenching tight around you.

You groan as he tightens up on you, eager thrust slowly down barely as you fight against his hole sucking your dick back up.

He was so pent up from not having you for days, every thrust you gave him making him jolt like he was struck by lightning. He needed this so bad, but that he has it he's not even sure if he can handle it. Garbled words leaving his mouth as he slowly reaches his peak, legs thrashing around in the air.

When you hit his sweet spot is really when he starts acting up even more, arching his back as he lets out an unchecked whimper, his squirming continuing until your free hand is grabbing his leg hard enough to bruise.

The now unconventional only serves him more pleasure as he takes you even deeper with each thrust, his teeth gritting and eyes widened at the realization that he could practically feel you in his throat.

“T-too much,” he’s hardly able to grunt out behind clenched teeth, fingers flexing on the hem of your shirt as he desperately tries to remember the reasoning behind why he needed to hold it again.

After a couple of seconds he determines that surely there isn’t a good enough reason, every once purposely collected and sorted thought he had in his mind gone except for the pleasure you were drilling into him.

A sputtered sound of your name leaving him as his climax nears, no longer able to handle it and letting go of the shirt. One of his hands shoots out and grasps at your wrist of the hand holding his hip, the other tangling itself in the mess of a blanket under him.

Just as quickly as the shirt rides up his stomach past his chest and pools towards his shoulders your thrusts stop, a low hiss coming from you as you cock twitches at the abrupt absence of pleasure.

“Law,” you hum out disappointedly, and it takes Law a moment, bleary eyes blinking as he thinks over what he’s done to deserve you stopping him from cumming.

When he realizes he merely becomes huffy, burying his sweaty face into the sheets with a pout and letting go of your wrist, single hand forcing the shirt to go and cover him once more.

Snapping your hips back into him he lets out a sound of a hiccup and whines at the same time, hand thrusts in reaction but not letting go of the shirt having learned his lesson.

“Cl-ose!” He yips into the blanket, another particularly hard thrust making him break even further into a sweat.

He was suffocating, maybe, perhaps… or he was just being overdramatic to the many layers adorning his skin. Not that he was going to complain if it got you fucking into him like it was the last time you would, if does end up surviving this with at least half a brain maybe he’ll decide to tempt for real by wearing some more of your outfits.

Besides that point, god was your dick breaking him down, inside out with every smack of your hips against his. Whorish moans soaked up by the bed along with the drool that spewed from his mouth.

For a moment he even wonders if he’s being too loud, not that it matters when within the next second he tenses up, his own neglected cock twitching madly before soiling his boxers in creamy white. His hand falls limply from the shirt as he reaches for the stars with his climax, you helping him in his high as you continue to thrust behind him, also trying to find your own finish line.

Your hips stutter for a moment, a breathy gasp leaving you of, “I’m cumming,” before you’re filling Law’s stomach with your hot seed.

Slipping his eyes closed, Law tries to gain some of his breath, feeling how you pull out of him and gently rub at his leg before letting go, placing his wobbly knees carefully on the bed.

His eyes are immediately shot back open however when he feels you rutting against his ass, cock still very hard as you bury your face on his shoulder blade.

“Y/n-ya!” He hisses in disbelief, your stamina still surprising him even after how many times you two have had sex.

He can feel how you pout against his clothed skin, stopping your movements as you try and burrow further into his skin, not wanting to face him.

“Please?” You ask softly, warping your arms around his waist rubbing at the skin your hands touch with care.

Law huffs, brows furrowing as he answers you, “Fine…”

Somewhat he smiles when he hears how you get excited, going from his shoulder blade to his neck and happily kisses him there in thanks, it looks more like a creepy smirk however.

Lifting him up from the bed, Law groans, feeling how your seed spills out of him slowly, rolling down his thighs stickily. Eyes widening as you leave the space of the bed and go to the nearest wall, pressing him into it.

“You bastard! You did this on purpose didn’t you, Y/n-ya?” He grits out, feeling how wobbly his legs were on the ground, his own balance untrustworthy now.

You cheekily giggle behind him, a new sort of evil to your tone as you hum a, “Yup,” right next to his ear.

Your hands clasp over Law’s guiding one of them to the sweat pants now falling from his hips, the other weaving your fingers with his. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what you’re telling him to do, immediately taking the hem of the sweat pants in his hands and pulling it up slightly with a grumble.

Releasing Law’s hand you move your free hand to instead hold on to his hip again, lining yourself up and sinking your dick back into his needy hole.

Law whimpers, already overly sensitive from having already cum once, his own cock twitching back to life reluctantly.

You waste no time, joyously pulling almost all the way out before snapping your hip back into his, a wet mix of lube cum and spit squelching out at the intrusion.

It doesn’t take you long to find Law’s sweet spot again before you’re thrusting into it like some manic fed off his moans, his mind growing ever cloudier as tears brim his eyes from the overstimulation.

Half the things around him hardly register in his muddled brain, the hot tears and drool streaming down his face, his cheek pressed against the once cold metal of the Polar Tang. Law hates to admit it but very easily he loses his mind and body to you, like a fiddle being played mercilessly by a master.

Not that he would complain. Not that he would admit it either…

He did enjoy it however, how you made his body scream for you, made whimper and whines he’d never let anyone but you hear. And, as always the conniving pirate never stopped his cocky little smirk, because just as obsessed as he was with you ravaging him like some beast he was sure you were equally the same.

The grip alone you had on his hips hard enough to leave marks quite the testament, and he enjoys it, because then he gets to stare in the mirror at his reflection as he’s putting ointment on the bruises to remind how easily you toss him around, how much bigger you are than him.

Every thrust you give him that forms a little bump in his stomach as it stretches to try and accommodate you, the way your hands feel around his smaller body, it doesn’t take long before his fingers can no longer clasp around fabric anymore, tired and shaky.

But you follow your rules, even as your entire body begs for you not to, and Law almost instantly knows the reasoning behind it.

Whining as he reaches down for the hem of the sweatpants again, “J-jerk.”

Pulling it back up over his legs he realizes as you start again that he has to start back from zero, the impending climax he had now gone instead for a low simmering in his stomach.

He’s pissed, eyes shutting as he tries to focus back on the pistoning of your hips against his, clenching around you to no avail to try and make sure the rest of your cum in him stays in him.

Biting his lips enough to rip skin as moans are ripped from him, he’ll surely get a sore throat from this.

Though it’s not enough for him, this stupid game of yours depriving him of your hands on his body, or his on your, a searing ache everywhere that only your touch could soothe.

Despite that, his once edged high comes back far easier than he anticipated, like a bullet shot out of nowhere that has him slumping down weakly even further pressed between you and the wall.

In another mix of star seeking pleasure he once more drops his focus off of his hand, going to buck back into your thrusts instead, the once held sweatpants falling under your vigorous pounding.

This time he is quicker than you are, a deep growl settling itself in his throat as he opens his eyes to look at you, “Stop and I swear I’ll kill you.”

It was an empty threat but still had your lips raising in a grin, “Yeah?” You challenge back, slowly down your hips but still softly rocking in him.

He doesn’t take too kindly to that, placing his free hand on the wall and pushing himself back on you.

“M-mmph! You’re terrible,” he moans, wobbly he goes back close to the wall before once more pushing back.

He blushes when you have to bend down to face him, your hot breath fanning against his neck as you stare at him through have lidded eyes, “Fine, you win this time.”

Pulling out before you’re thrusting back into him, his eyes rolling back, “Yes!”

Though it wasn’t enough, Law was a greedy man, and he was not afraid at all to let you know. Taking your shirt’s damp collar in his hand and pulling you closer to his face with a smirk, “Come o-on now, y/n-ya… you can do, ah, better than that.” He doesn’t miss how that makes your eye twitch in irritation, only making him shudder with excitement.

Promptly Law shuts up, other than his many moans and shouts of your name and pleas, every snap of your hips to his strong enough that you were sure he would even have difficulty sitting.

It surely would be a gift having Law complaining in your ear about going easier on him as if he wasn’t the one begging you to go faster, harder, he would never admit it even if he knew it though, he still had his pride to keep intact.

It wasn’t long before the coil in Law’s stomach was tightening dangerously so, barely being able to mumble the word cumming through the noises leaving him. You weren’t faring any better, burying your face in the crook of Law’s neck to try and muffle the noise coming from you.

A few more thrusts and Law’s cumming hard enough he swears he sees heaven, shockwaves of pleasure going through his body as he clenches up around you hurdling you down your climax as well.

After a few moments of silence Law is the first one to speak up through heavy breathing, “I’m never doing that again.”

He feels how you pout in his neck, letting out a noise of complaint back but not having the energy to argue.

—

I got spoiled for one of the lasest episodes of One Piece and did y’all SEE Law?! OOOO. Yeah, don’t ask me ANYTHINGGG about the surroundings, I was too focused on his face. I have to catch up already so I can see that scene on my own terms.

I saw you in my inbox ✨💀✨ anon, thank you for your kind words! Honestly falling over though because I spent an embarrassingly long time trying to get this fic right and I still don’t believe I did your idea any justice.

Anyways, I feel so bad about making you guys wait so long, I really hope you enjoyed. Pea’s out!

[xo2dee]

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴏɴᴇɪʀᴏᴅʏɴɪᴀ

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers for the shibuya incident arc, mentions of violence, descriptions of nanamis body injury, descriptions of gore, body insecurity, depictions of dealing with PTSD, mentions of pregnancy

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8200

𓆩♡𓆪 ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: He tried to hide it, but the haunting behind his closed eye spoke the most for him.

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴀ/ɴ: originally i wrote this for the guide (shameless plug go read) but this could be read as a stand-alone easily. just wanted to imagine if kento had actually been married and what could've happened if he survived shibuya. but mind the warnings!

He could feel his world shrinking in on him, his throat closing in as claustrophobia suddenly overwhelmed him and confined him to a world of fear he never knew he could’ve felt. He tried to struggle, get himself free from its coiled vines, tried to open his eyes out of the darkness that was drowning him, heavy like the tons of water from the ocean washing over him, but he found he could not.

Something was wrong, and when he finally opened his eyes, he understood what it was.

It was completely dark; vision wrapped up in a coat of noir that he couldn’t break free from. On the right everything was still horribly vivid; however, the landscape of that day was forever compacted into his brain as he could trace out every line behind a closed eye to draw it up once more for a retelling, or perhaps in a way to continue to haunt himself. On the left there was nothing; a space free from sense, nothing but a hole filled with darkness reminiscent of nothingness and loneliness, something dire to his being and for his view on the world alone.

He couldn’t see out of his left eye.

Because he no longer had a left eye.

It was jarring at first, not even noticing for a moment that his eye had been plucked out by the fish from that Domain Expansion and he had remained still for the moment as he realized he couldn’t see out of it any longer, frozen in time wondering what happened to bring him to that point before the throbbing pain hit him all at once. He had gritted his teeth and bared it, completely throwing it to the side as he had to keep his attention focused on Megumi and Maki, as their lives mattered more in that moment despite all his injuries then. He had to stay focused, and perhaps he could do it right that time.

His body was burning with adrenaline, muscles bunched forward with tension and nerves lit up alive inside of his veins. He had never been in pain like he had been as of that moment, and he had never felt the need to fight much like he did then, and yet he had continued to stand, refusing to feel that uselessness that he had felt when he found Kiyotaka prone on the floor bleeding out from an injury. It brought back an old memory he thought back to every time he fought; a young boy laid out onto the ground missing the entire lower half of his body, the entire ground coated with blood as it dripped out onto the pavement while he carried him back to the school on his back.

It made him furious.

(It had stained his uniform, his shoes, his hands, pieces of his hair were caked in Yu’s blood, but he couldn’t find himself to even care. The dollops smacking onto the pavement were louder than his own thoughts; vacant and speaking so much for everything in spite of him remaining deathly silent and calm as he slowly walked back to the school heading for the Morgue.)

He refused to let anything like that happen again.

(He could feel the blood seeping out the vacant socket where his left eye had been, the same way it dribbled along out of Yu’s body and stained his clothes, much like how his blue button-up meshed into a violet color the more it was ruined.)

Despite his vision, he knew Megumi wasn’t anywhere in his presence, taken away from that mirrored image of his father and there was that underlining need to run after him, but his concern was lying elsewhere at the arrival of another curse that was more of a horrible threat than the one from before. Its head was bulbous and white, possessing only one eye like a cyclops, and he knew who it was as he shifted all concern to Maki for the moment.

He could see his hand, palm out and short, stubby fingers spread, and he realized his momentum was too fast for him to stop before he touched him. He remembered flexing his abdomen out of habit from the unwanted and foreign touch, and he remembered the way he had smiled up at him (cruel, wicked, evil, inhumane, murderous) before his world was suddenly brighter than it had ever been and bursting into a world of white-hot and orange damnation and he barely felt the burning sensation of Jogo’s cursed energy engulfing him.  

It was hothothothothothothot – it was too fucking hot. He couldn’t breathe for a moment (his throat was closing up again; airways constricted and lungs twisting and diminishing, he couldn’t breathe and everything fucking hurt), and he truly believed that he was going to die from suffocation in that moment if it wasn’t over as fast as it came.

He was numb for a few moments while it happened and after it happened, ears ringing from white noise and feeling like he wasn’t even in his body any longer and he was but a shell – a husk of what he used to be. Everything was stinging like needles pricking into every nerve and his body was still buzzing with adrenaline, but he felt numb. He knew what was happening, and despite it all he still stood back up; his legs still worked, he could swing his weapon, and that was all that mattered for the time being.

If he didn’t do anything he would feel useless as he did back then, he couldn’t stand to be a victim of his own incompetence any longer.

Yet, his right eye caught a glance of his left side when he lifted his left arm, and he paused as he looked down at what remained of the left side of his body.

Like the sun opposed to his moon from losing his left eye, the fire spread quickly over his body and melted away parts of his flesh on the left side of his body, leaving nothing but the exposed layer underneath his skin peeling away to blood already beginning to ooze out from the catastrophic wounds. He had lifted his left hand, staring at the remnants of what remained of his skin long gone before raising it higher to touch the empty socket where his left eye had sat.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be feeling anything with his burnt flesh (it felt fake, yet smooth free of any blemishes, but also rough like it didn’t belong), but it was cold in spite of the scorching heat that had engulfed him. But more importantly, it was a dead fact that he wasn’t dreaming and everything that was happening in Shibuya was the reality he was living in.

Satoru was sealed.

Suguru had sealed him – No, not Suguru, he was dead. But someone was wearing his face.

So many people had already died… Civilians…

Regardless of his wounds stinging and stretching like he was peeling off various scabs making him hold back the hisses of pain, he continued onwards to fulfill what he made himself promise to do that moment he returned back to Jujutsu Sorcery and to never feel that worthlessness any longer. He was severely wounded, and he knew that he was on the brink of death, but it couldn’t matter at that moment.

He had to do something.

So, he walked forward, despite everything burning and aching, and despite feeling so tired and hollow inside in that moment, he continued on to do what he sought out.

If you don’t fight for something, you’ll fall for nothing.

He didn’t know how long it was before he came across the hoard of all the mutated humans, but the feeling of enervation was beginning to consume him. He had to take them on, however, it was what he was brought up to do, but even then with his need to carry on he had to stop but for a brief moment and think about what he truly wanted most in the world.

There was nothing more he wanted at that moment than the serenity of sitting along a beach shore with his feet covered in the sand that it brought, listening to the waves crash forward and feel the wind sing through his ears and breeze by his skin as he read all those books he had bought stashed along the bookcase in his bedroom on the beach. He could retire and rest there, he had enough money to do so and he could always just grow his own little vegetables and fruit if he had to. He could have a simple life there, quiet and in the grace of Mother Nature at her finest, and the more he envisioned it, the more it became a clear vision.

Build a small house on the beach, it didn’t have to be much, just enough to feel cozy and at home – domestic. He could see the figure in front of him walking along the shore barefoot, a short, white sundress coating their form as they dipped their toes in the water and seemingly danced along with the wind. It made him exceedingly happy to watch them, seeing them happy and at peace, safe and healthy, and he didn’t know why it did perhaps at that moment, but it was enough for him to sigh in contentment for the world he could envision.

Malaysia.

Kuantan, Malaysia.

(He was in so much pain.)

He almost nearly wanted to put his weapon down, just to lay down and finally rest as he was so tired, but his mind was fighting his body all at once, telling him there was more that he needed to do before so. That there was something holding him back from doing so, and he sighed as he fought through every memory he had for that pull.

Though he thought of Maki, Megumi, Naobito, hoping for their safety then, that wasn’t what was buzzing in the back of his mind. He thought of Yuji, wondering where he was for a brief second before he realized he must have been going after Megumi, and then understanding that it wasn’t him. He was flitting over each face in his mind that might’ve been in Shibuya and needed him (Nobara, Ino, Toge, Akari, Kiyotaka, Yaga, anyone that may have been in Shibuya), but coming up short, yet he ended up pausing before taking a swing at the mutated humans beginning to crowd him in.

(That figure on the beach with him in Malaysia, he knew that figure. He had etched every single inch of that figure’s skin into his mind, being able to trace lines like constellations in the sky every time he closed his eyes so that could map out everything about them and perfectly envision them in his dreams and memories. It was all black and white at first, then an upsurge of all the hues in the color spectrum that rushed over until you were brought to life like a page in a coloring book and standing in front of him on the shore of a beach in Malaysia living the rest of your lives together like he had dreamt of so many times unbeknownst to you.

That figure… it was you, his family.

His most beloved.)

Where… were you? Here? God, no, you couldn’t be.

No… you were at home.

He remembered it clearly; your eyes shining up at him and making that face he never wanted to see regardless, nearly looking like you wanted cry again when you had not cried in so long and he had sworn to himself he’d never be the reason you cried ever again. He got the call about Shibuya, but you did not; bedridden over an illness you seemed to have picked up and had just gotten home from the doctor over it. You weren’t supposed to be going out anywhere, and he didn’t want you going anywhere if you were sick as was, your health was more important than anything and he would’ve been damned if you were out trying to work sick.

Yet still… something had been off about you.

You had fisted your hands into his shirt, a small smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes as he had curled his arms around your shoulders with his fingers digging into the sweater you wore that was his, however he didn’t mind it since he loved it when you wore his clothes around the house. He had asked you what was wrong, and you had pressed yourself closer to him, with a sheen in your eyes that was the tall-tale sign of your eyes watering. He was nearly ready to drop everything for you just to see what was wrong with you, but you finally answered him, and it startled him just as much.

“When you come home, I have to tell you something.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“They need you… But please come back to me, this is… Promise me you’ll come home, Kento.”

He did; he promised you that he would.

You had sent him off after that, his stomach in knots as he thought back to your worried face and tear-filled eyes the longer he sat on that train to Shibuya. He didn’t know why you had been pushed to the back of his mind, though perhaps it was because he knew you were safe at home, away from everything that was happening and safe at home. Though when you returned back to the forefronts of his brain, he remembered that promise.

He was never one to make promises, but you were adorably cute every time you’d make him do pinky promise over something so trivial that it made him want to laugh and he couldn’t help but to play along. However, those promises from before were nothing compared to the gravity of the oath he swore to you before he left for Shibuya.

He couldn’t break it to you and raising his left hand again to spy the ring (it was miracle it was still there) marring his ring finger, he knew he had to come home to you. And yet… (he let his eye wander over the flesh that was no longer there, red hue startling him more than the sign of blood pouring out of a wound on his body, and knowing that it would never heal over to skin or be the same again; that left side of him was completely tarnished from how it used to be) he wondered how you would perceive seeing him…

He couldn’t think about it too much longer, for the mutated flesh and blood that were the remnants of the humans were closing in on him, and he realized then if he wanted to complete his own promise to live a life free of regrets and free of any uselessness he had to keep fighting for the sake of you.

(He was in so much pain.)

If he ended up leaving you alone, that would be his ultimate sin... His biggest regret.

He took on the mutated humans (every swing was pain; stinging in each limb as blood spattered onto him and the floor), swinging (the burnt flesh along his arm screamed from each quick, rapid movement of his shoulder, the tendons in his muscles stretching and snapping; bleeding) and slicing (his vision was getting hazy, the loss of his left eye beginning to finally take its toll on him as it became too much for one eye to handle everything that was coming at him), until all of them fell away to his feet (the way they diminished and were put to rest made him sigh in longing; it looked so comforting to be put out their misery) and he was left standing.

(He was tired, and his breathing beginning to leave him.)

He wasn’t sure where he came from, but it was a beat and there was another hand touching him; a light tap that made him pause and look up to who was touching him. Mahito was there, palm upon his skin and fingers spread much like Jogo, and the humming of a nauseating cursed energy of his that settled heavy in a squeeze along his esophagus and a coil within his gut. He knew what it meant.

He knew then he had failed in altering the course of what was the happen; the Butterfly Effect already set in motion for what was to happen from the moment he stepped foot onto that train for Shibuya; the moment you told him he had to go because you were prioritizing his work over you (he wanted to laugh; why would you ever think he cared more about work over you?) and he listened to you despite the worry something was wrong with you.

It was all falling into motion, and he couldn’t change a damn thing.

He had felt the same way whenever he had been trapped inside of Mahito’s Domain Expansion, yet that time Yuji wasn’t busting through the veil that had covered them to save him. He wasn’t going to be able to watch you nearly break Yuji’s ribs with the hug you had given him when he had told you what had happened. He wouldn’t be able to hear you tease him over the soft spot he had developed for the boy; Itadori Yuji reminding him so much of Haibara Yu –

It was brief, but he remembered Mahito and he speaking, though the conversations words were lost on him the moment he stopped seeing Mahito and in his place was a face he had not forgotten and wouldn’t forget for as long as he lived.

Yu stood in front of him once again, youth frozen in time while he kept moving forward with age despite that hollow feeling in his heart the moment he realized Yu was dead. He only stared at Yu for a long moment, the toll of his injuries rushing forward all at once and the adrenaline beginning to fade away as all the pain crashed over him like a tsunami’s wave and he just grew so tired. Yet he did not fall there, he let himself fade to a time before, when he had decided to come back to the school after four years and resume what he had been doing for years, but he still wondered as he stood covered in burns and missing an eye what he truly returned for and if anything he had done really ever amounted to anything in the end.

He looked at the boy smiling at him still, despite it all, and wondered if he could find his guidance there.

Haibara, what the Hell was I trying to do anyway? I ran… Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of the finding the work worthwhile…

What was the reason?

He was startled when Yu seemed to hear him, the thought he had kept deep within the recesses of his mind unknown to everyone for the façade he put on, and watched slowly as Yu’s arm raised, pointing an index finger to the left and he heard the name before he saw him.

“Nanamin!”

Yuji…

He could hear Mahito greet him as well, but could not see him, as he told Yu that he could not tell him that and it only be a burden and a curse placed upon the boy’s shoulders in the end. He already had enough on his plate as was, he could not do that to Yuji. He would settle for something not as heavy for boy… and perhaps… maybe tell him something to say to you.

I’m sorry.

(He was getting sleepy.)

However, before he could get the words out to reassure Yuji, Yu moved again, head turning slightly with a gleaming grin painted on his lip to look slightly behind him. He felt confused, but when he heard the oncoming footsteps from Yuji and from the second unidentified person as the harsh crackle in the atmosphere shifted from the arrival of a strong source of cursed energy, he supposed he knew then.

It nearly happened to fast for him to comprehend as Yu’s visage faded away in a cloud of dark colors and he was suddenly looking back at Mahito, whose eyes had widened and had removed his hand from his chest to turn and try to stop the oncoming assailant before the side of their foot slammed into the side of his head in a devastating crack and he heard the flesh tear away and bone crack within the arm that he had placed upon him. He watched the blood fall along the arm, realizing the kick had sent Mahito several yards away crashing through the wall and his arm had been completely torn off.

He knew he wasn’t dead however, his arm would regrow and he’d be back up, but he was more worried at the heartbreaking expression on your face whenever you stood in front of him taking in what he looked like after everything that had happened.

He wanted to ask you what the Hell you thought you were doing, why you were there, why were you crying, until he realized it was all because of him.

Don’t look at me like this, please.

How were you ever going to look at him the same again?

He didn’t say anything, realizing his breath was beginning to leave him the same moment he spotted Mahito again. He couldn’t speak though, legs finally failing him as he collapsed and started to spit up blood in hacks, his body beginning to shut down as he heard you and Yuji scream at the same time.

Mahito would hurt you both, and he couldn’t do a damn thing.

You wouldn’t be able to take on Mahito, he was far too strong for you and could kill you.

He had to do something, but the image of yours and Yuji’s faces hovering over him was blurry; hazy as the one eye he still had begun to close. He realized then the breaths he was taking were panicked, and he couldn’t move his legs or his body as his heart in spite of withering away was pulsing at ridiculous pace.

He was dying.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t feel –

He had to save you and Yuji, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t feel –

He could hear you both though, calling out to him as he fell down, his world shrinking in on him in the pitch darkness that he slowly begun to fear when he remembered the people within the light he had to care for. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but his lungs were closing; burning like his body when he had been set on fire, and his vision closing into a pit of nothingness like the socket of where his left eye had been.

He had to do something, or else he really was worthless in the end, but –

He couldn’t breathe… and he was dyingdyingdyingdying –

He couldn’t breathe –!

When Nanami Kento awoke, he took a long inhale, eye opening to the familiar ceiling of his bedroom, but not able to hear anything other than the own ringing in his ears and his heart resounding inside of his chest. He was aware he was panting, and everything felt too hot and constricted around him despite the cool breeze wisping through an open window in front of the bed. His throat felt raw and sore, like he had been hacking and choking on his own breaths and saliva in his sleep, and there was an anxiety-stricken situation gripping his heart as he realized he couldn’t move for the moment and suddenly he was thrown back into his dream – no, his memory of that Halloween night five years beforehand.

The world squeezing him tight, his body failing him and everything just fucking hurting again. It was so much pain, and it was too much, everything in him screaming at him as his tendons pulled and snapped, his body stung and bled, and his mind told him to lay down and rest.

He fought it off, he couldn’t fall that time.

Not again, he couldn’t do it again, he had to get up and fight that time…

He could do something – he had to do something.

He had to get up and fightfightfightfight and keep Yuji and you safe –

“Breathe, Kento.”

The voice nearly startled him, but it was spoken so gently and cautiously that he couldn’t find himself to be afraid of it for the moment. It nearly sounded underwater, distorted even as he had to repeat it back into his mind a few times to fully understand what they meant, and when he let the vibrations of it ooze into his skin and let the words spoken twirl around his brain like a ribbon, he understood he knew that voice and it wasn’t there to harm him.

It was your voice.

“You’re okay.”

It made him calm down a little, and you kept your distance for the moment until you knew that he was okay and repeated a mantra that had been told to him many times by the doctor and you whenever he had the horrifying tidbits late at night.

“Count and breathe. Take as long as you need.”

Yes, that was right. He could breathe, his lungs weren’t failing him and his heart was okay.

Kento just needed to count and breathe until he was sure he was able to go on and he was okay.

One; inhale.

Two; exhale.

Three (his fingers twitched, and he realized he was gripping the sheets so hard it was a wonder they didn’t rip); inhale.

Four; exhale.

Five; inhale.

Six (he let go of the sheets, the softness of the comforter returning to his sense of feeling as he realized he was not lying on the cold ground bleeding and instead in a warm bed that molded into his body and let him rest well); exhale.

Seven (the white noise in his ears retreated for the crash of the waves from the ocean along Malaysia outside the house, and the blurred vision of the ceiling fan spinning became clear and allowed him to see the moonbeams from the night glare in and bathing the bedroom in its heavenly shine); inhale.

Eight (he could move again, stretching his legs and wiggling his toes as he blinked rapidly and could move his tongue once more, and there was the soft smell of you wisping up his nostrils as he realized you were there and he was there); exhale.

Nine (he wasn’t in Shibuya anymore, he was at home with you and you were both alive and safe); inhale.

Ten (he wasn’t in Shibuya anymore, he was at home with you and you were both alive and safe); exhale.

Kento blinked the moment he let out that lasting and deep exhale, his mind and body returning to him as he came fully to his senses and finally calmed down. He had that mantra on his mind as he felt himself fall into ease and swallowed down the nausea brimming in his stomach, the burn in his throat subsiding for good as his heart settled down along with his breathing. His lungs no longer screamed for air and his body was his own again.

He was home.

He was alive.

It was just a dream (how many times was he going to be plagued with the images of it?).

And more importantly, you were right next to him, alive and safe still.

“You’re sweating and burning up; I thought you were coming down with another fever again until I heard you.”

Kento nearly sighed when he felt the cool touch of your hand wipe across the back of his forehead to swipe the sweat away, keeping his eye on the ceiling fan spinning for a grounding sense of reality that he was no longer staring up the shrinking, claustrophobic darkness that had threatened to swallow him whole. Your touch would forever soothe him, a solace you offered him along with just your mere presence that he greedily drunk in like the glass of water you were pressing to his lips then.

He felt your other hand slide underneath his neck, fingers tickling the overgrown undercut he had long since abandoned in favor of letting just all be one length, and you lifted his head off the pillow to coax him into drinking some of the liquid. He of course was more than welcome to allow you to do all of it, as it had become a routine of sorts from the various nights the event would happen.

(And as much as he loved it receiving that sweet attention from you knowing you truly loved and care, Kento hated it. He felt like burden each time it happened and you were there to take care of him. You had reassured him so many times, and so many times he liked to pretend that his nightmares didn’t bother him, but it was futile in the end with you. You two were married, you knew everything down to each other’s favorite scent candles, all the way to what made each of you tick.

He hated how pitiful he felt over the trauma of everything, and you were the one lifting him up and comforting him when that’s all he wanted to do for you, and he felt he no longer could.)

“Drink,” you told him, thumb rubbing his nape in comforting circles, “It’ll help your throat.”

He did as you said, parting his lips and letting you tilt the glass forward so that the refreshing and cold water swished along the inside of his mouth and he swallowed it with gluttonous intentions. His throat immediately felt soothed from the refreshing drink, the burning that had been reaching all the way to his ears subsiding as he took a good four gulps before signaling he was done. His tongue slid out to lick along his dry lips (and the one side that’d forever remain that way), and he finally spoke since waking.

“Thank you…”

Kento heard you set the glass back down onto your nightstand, returning to him as your fingers traced along the contours of his face and push away his hair laying over his forehead. “Mm, you don’t have to thank me…” you paused for moment, letting a hand slide down to rest in the middle of his chest, cautious present in your movement and from the way he heard your breath intake and lips part, “…Another nightmare?”

He learned a long time ago that not talking about it made it worse. “Yeah.”

You leaned closer, voice slightly wavering as your sweet smell made him slightly dizzy, yet grounded him, “Was it Shibuya again?”

Against his wishes, his throat closed up and his stomach balled into nausea, a foreign feeling manifesting itself into his eye as he blinked rapidly to try and get rid of it. It wasn’t the mention of Shibuya so much that tore him apart, it was the memories that accompanied him from it and how much he never could escape it despite it being five years since it had happened. He was nowhere near Shibuya, or Jujutsu Sorcery as a whole since he had retired from it after recovering from his injuries, and the society as a whole falling apart on itself after the incident and the many lives that had been taken in the end from the devastating event.

All the lives they had lost… the people he knew that were gone…

He swallowed as that sensation crawled up back into his eye and answering you as he hated the way his voice sounded when he did.

“When isn’t it?”

He felt you shift and then your smell was completely submerging him; shielding him away from all the terrors that threatened to tear his sanity apart and leave him in ragged strips, and his heart threatened to burst through his ribcage for when you came to him for his vulnerability and showcasing your love.

Kento could feel the tear that wanted to fall from the eye he no longer had when you pressed such a tender and loving kiss to the charred skin below the desolate socket free of the eyepatch he wore to kept it hidden from the world, feeling your touch on the same left side of his body completely scarred with the flesh burnt away when you ran your hand along his chest and caressed the area over his heart. It still would beat healthily underneath his ribcage and your touch, a full reminder he was still alive despite everything that had happened. He was still alive with you, and everything was safe.

He was safe.

You were safe.

(You’d be so disappointed in him over his constant worry over you, but he couldn’t help it, not after what had happened that Halloween five years before and the circumstances that pertained to you that day.)

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyelashes fluttered against the wounded skin of his cheek, lips still sweet on him as your hand slid away from his chest and you cupped the smooth side of his face. You turned him to face you, and he was suddenly awestruck like always looking at your figure bathing in the moonshine coming from the various windows of your shared bedroom, every contour on you seemingly shining in the light the moon graced the Earth with as he wanted to find the words to tell you that you were beautiful in spite of telling you so many times before.

One strap of your negligee had slid down your arm, and the soft sigh that left you matched the tenderness in your eyes, “What’re you apologizing for?”

Kento swallowed, wondering how you were still able to look upon him like that when he looked the way he did, “I woke you.”

You sighed and leaned down to press a quick kiss to the area over his heart, pulling your hand away from his face to instead curl your fingers around his own (they were so soft compared to the grooved flesh of his own, and he wondered what it felt like to you each time you touched the left side of him and when you would place a kiss on his mismatched lips). “You know I don’t sleep so much at night as of lately.”

How could he forget? You were twenty-three weeks pregnant. Again.

He paused and lifted his hand, settling it over your belly that was protruding outwards as he remembered his son liked to stay awake at night and kick as opposed to sleeping during the day with you most of the time. He wasn’t sure when you picked up that messed up sleeping schedule (and he didn’t necessarily like it either, often reprimanding you for staying awake into the deep hours of the night and only falling asleep when the clocks began to turn for the morning and sun was rising over the horizon of the ocean), but it made him feel all more bad when you would be awake while he slept soundly half the time.

Holding your stomach brought him more comfort; relaxing him as he remembered the pregnancy along with your daughter’s was an accident all the same. Regardless of it, he was more than happy for a second child (he wanted to laugh when he remembered you told him two was the limit since your daughter was already a handful as was), as deep down he always dreamed of being a father, but being the father of your children only made him all the more ecstatic for what was to come.

“He kicking bad tonight?” he eventually asked, taking to rubbing your belly to see if he could coax any movement out of your son. He loved it when he would kick his hands, his entire body warming with an emotion he couldn’t quite describe as it reminded him of the life inside of you was his family and the very first time you grabbed his hand and let him feel your daughter move.

You stretched and moved to lie back onto your back, Kento subconsciously following you as he rolled onto his side and pressed his lips to your shoulder, and a short yawn left you, “Yeah, though I think he’s starting to take after you and your night owl behaviors.”

“I didn’t stay up late last night.”

“I know, you went to bed at eight. You haven’t done that in so long, thought you might’ve been reverting back to your old man habits.”

He was not old. He was only thirty-three, and you were a year behind him. Kento slid his arm underneath your chest and pinched your side, relishing the small laugh you gave before he sighed and remembered just why he had went to bed so early. “Miho wore me out. I never knew the energy five-year old’s can have.”

“Mmm, I know, she was still wired when I put her to bed. But it doesn’t help you give in and spoil her too.”

“You don’t complain when I spoil you.”

“It’s different.”

He let a hum be his answer, closing his eye and basking in the relaxation he was beginning to feel with you. Yet there was still that lingering darkness haunting him behind his closed eye, and every time he looked into the mirror and saw himself. Kento had never been one for vanity or caring particularly how he looked, however he would admit back when you two had first gotten into a relationship he may have spent a little more time sprucing himself up in the mirror because he wanted to impress you. He had told you many of times he looked like some random guy in comparison to you parading around by his side.

You had told him it was surely the opposite however, reprimanding him for not ever seeing truly how handsome he was.

Nevertheless, he was not a vain man nor took any pride in over his looks, but the moment he looked in the mirror at himself in hospital restroom and saw what he would look like for the remainder of his life, all he could think about was how you would perceive him. Would you look at him in disgust each time he removed his patch and saw the empty place where his eye had sat? Would you shy away from his touch when he would reach a hand out to touch you? Would you never kiss him, hold him, or even touch him again?

Kento knew it was pathetic on his behalf to even think about it, but he wasn’t going to blame you if you were scared of him.

In the end all of it proved to be just his overthinking, you still kissed him the same, still hugged him the same, still held his hand the same, and you still even let him touch you the way he had done so many times before and even waited on him to become comfortable enough again to have sex with him again. It was folly he thought like that, remembering the many times you had kissed every inch of his skin and told him how beautiful he was, but he couldn’t help it at times to think about it.

Especially when it came to his daughter and upcoming son.

Pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder and not yet ready to fall back asleep, he started up another conversation, trying to get any dampening thoughts out of his head, “Thought of a name?”

The sigh that left you made your shoulders droop, your hand moving to thread your fingers into his own as they rested on your ribcage, “No, I even looked at websites… God, don't laugh. You’re a better thinker than I am, have you?”

He hummed and rubbed his cheek along your shoulder, “I have some, but I want you to name him.”

“Kento…”

“It’s only fair. I named Miho, and I thought back then if we were to have another that I’d want you to name them.”

“…You were already thinking about another back then?”

He snorted into your skin, “I told you that having a family with you was something I wanted, even back when we got married it was on my mind… Just didn’t think both times would be unplanned either…”

Sadly, it was true, Miho had been the world’s biggest surprise for him (actually you as well) and the circumstances behind your pregnancy had nearly given him a heart attack when he awoke in that hospital bed, and it was one of the first things that he was told… He could laugh then remembering how pissed you were that you weren’t the one that got to tell him, but the overwhelming emotion of happiness that drowned him knowing you were okay and that he was going to have a child with you won out. His surprise had vanished for an oozing of love and adoration that he was going to have a family.

(You often teased him on how long he held you and how much of a Mother Hen he became over you when he finally got to come home, but he didn’t care, he prioritized you and Miho’s life and health over everything.)

Your upcoming son, however?

He wasn’t sure when that happened, and it wasn’t talked about either as for a long while Kento had thought he’d become infertile from the incident, but fuck, was he wrong. Yet he was not unwelcomed, he was more than happy with you to expand your family by at least one more.

You giggled and he let a small smile press into your shoulder, cherishing in the sound before he felt himself grow sleepier from your voice alone. “I know, but we’ve known longer with him than her, and you got her name out so fast.”

“Give it time, beloved, we still have some months to go.”

You didn’t answer him that time and shifted, turning your head so that your cheek rested atop his hair, the breaths from you tickling his scalp as he realized you were restless. However, you not picking up another conversation was letting those thoughts run their course again, and he was moving his mouth saying and pouring more words out before he could stop them and reprimand himself for bothering you.

“I hope he looks like you…”

“I highly doubt that,” you gave an amused huff and traced a pattern onto the back of his hand with a nail, “he’s more than likely going to look like you.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted that. “Miho looks like you.”

“She has your eyes though, I think my genes only came through because she’s a girl… Though I don’t think that’s how it works…”

Honestly he wasn’t too sure either, he himself knew absolutely nothing about pregnancy and had to read up on it as much as he could to cater to you and tend to your needs. Kento’s eye reopened and he sighed, voice coming out more quieter than he wanted, “…You don’t think he won’t wonder why I look like this?”

He hated that those words passed his lips, but it was fleeting thought he had to let free the moment it passed his mind. He couldn’t hide anything from you any longer, you vouched out every single insecurity to him and he was more than glad you did so that he was able to comfort you, and you had told him many times to let you know if anything ever bothered him; regardless of if it was an insecurity or something you did.

“Kento,” you turned to face him, hand already finding its way to his face as you stroked your thumb along his cheek, “I know he won’t care or wonder, and Miho is proof enough for that too. She’s never once asked you, and she thinks you’re a cool, super, secret hero,” you poked his nose, leaning forward into his face and pressing another kiss onto him while lightly laughing, “She thinks her daddy is a pirate too, she told me today if she thinks if she asked, ‘really nice and with a pretty please’ if you’d take her out on the ocean one day.”

He couldn’t help the rush of heat that flooded up into his cheeks, the flusterment and blush from your sweet words and his daughter’s thoughts about him nearly too much for him to bear. No doubt from the patch he wore over his lost eye she thought that was so, and the few cartoons she had watched that depicted a pirate she associated it with him. It was the most satisfying reassurance he could’ve had knowing Miho never once doubted why her father looked like that and accepted it as was, her childlike fear she may have possessed nonexistent from how much she clung to him.

He had been worried about what his daughter would think of him when she grew old enough to register faces, and even holding her after you gave birth he had been nervous that he was just tainting her alone with the touch of his burnt hand along her soft skin. You had reassured him as quickly as you saw the anxiety present in his expression, something he didn’t think would be possible after everything, and told him that would never be the case. You had told him he wasn’t a monster, that he was still the same Nanami Kento from before and still the same man you had fallen in love with when you were a teenager and would continue to love no matter what.

Kento felt your finger trace down the slope of his nose, breath mingling with his and sweet against his lips as you whispered so softly with a chaste kiss to his top lip, “You really are beautiful, and I wouldn’t trade you or how you are now for anything in the world y’know… You can’t get rid of me so easily either, dork,” you lifted your hand and wiggled your ring finger in his face, the diamond on it glinting and luminous in the moonbeams, “I meant it when I said it that day.”

Eye lidded and sleep beginning to truly befall on him courtesy of your soothing voice and presence, he let a small, lazy smile grace his lips, the hand he had trapped under him and the one forever rough sliding forward to caress your cheek with a thumb stroking your skin as he leaned into you to press a firm kiss to your awaiting lips. You slid your hand down to his heart, fingers splaying as you felt his heartbeat and let him know once more that he was still alive, he was still healthy and you were there with him.

He knew he was more a man of actions at times rather than words, but marriage had made him more sentimental – you had made him more sentimental and he never felt the slightest bit of embarrassment or self-consciousness in ever telling you.

Kento mouthed them against your bottom lip; a lethargic kiss he had placed on you as he let you know from his heart and soul alone like he always did.

“I love you.”

You sighed against his mouth before he pulled away, his eye heavy with exhaustion as you threw a leg over his hip and ran your fingers through his hair, “I love you too, handsome.”

Every time you told him, he stored it away into his heart, keeping it as close as he could as he knew you meant it just much as he meant it every time he told you. Each time you told him was as special as the first time you ever told him, and each time he knew he wouldn’t ever love someone like the way he loved you.

He knew he was able to fall asleep then, the harrowing thoughts and memories gone as you and your touch brought forward new ones he liked to look back into that helped to have the sweet dreams he so longed for that he knew your warmth in the bed with him alone could bring. Yet his sleepiness brought forward more of his eccentric behavior, words flying free of his vocal chords before he could stop them in a rouse to keep the content mood going as he didn’t want to leave you awake without parting you with perhaps something unlike what he would say and knew would make you laugh and lift your spirits.

(And probably tease him over as well in the morning.)

“I’m gonna tell Pumpkin since Imma pirate then you’re the mermaid who captivated me with one look, and now we’re married, and you live on land, and she’s secretly part mermaid.”

“If that wasn’t so cute about Miho, I’d call you corny, Kento. God, you’re such a dad.”

[sserasin]

g!p chaewon with a breeding kink fucking fem reader after reader teases chaewon in a photoshoot?

cw nsfw under the cut, g!p chaewon, dom chaewon, female reader, lsf 6th member reader, reader is a calvin klein ambassador if anyone cares!, bratty reader, breeding kink, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, use of degrading names (cumslut, whore), hair pulling, orgasm denial, mention of free use, chaewon calls reader mommy teasingly, slight dacryphilia

“thank you,” you bow to the photoshoot staff, a robe wrapped around you before you head back to your dressing room as your manager stays back. but you knew you weren’t alone.

“do you think you’re funny?”

you smile. stopping and turning, face now confused, “what are you talking about, unnie?” you don’t wait for her to reply, continuing on your way to the dressing room. you don’t bother to leave the door open from her, slamming it right in her face. it only takes a second for her to slam the door back open.

your eyes look up and make eye contact with her through the mirror, a chill running down your spine. you’d regret that.

you couldn’t tell if you were actually regretting it right now, though.

chaewon’s hand is on the back of your head, forcing you face down into the couch. she thrusts her cock into your warm heat all to the hilt, filling you up and then completely pulls out only to repeat the process. it’s exhausting to you, so you don’t even know how she’s able to stand doing it.

“stop,” you whine into the cushion, chaewon letting your head up to hear you, “just fuck me already!”

“but i am, though, baby,” chaewon pouts, leaning down over to you so her chest was against your back. “are you not satisfied?”

“no!” you huff, wanting to throw an elbow back and nudge her out the way, “you’re just being a tease and i don’t like it.”

chaewon’s pout turns into a sardonic smile, tilting her head before abruptly gripping your chin in her hand so you would look her in the eyes, “yeah? well, i don’t care. you teased me for hours upon hours during your stupid photoshoot, and every time i fucking fixed the problem you made, you’d make it come back in 5 minutes.”

your jaw was being gripped tightly by her, but that didn’t deter you from your next comment, “it’s not my problem you get so horny at the sight of me.”

chaewon grits her teeth, shoving your face back down into the cushion, “god, just fucking shut up for once,” she mutters, forcing a hand at the spine of your back so you’d arch, “stupid-” she doesn’t give you any time to adjust when she slams back into you, pussy eagerly taking her in. “-fucking- brat.”

you let out a strangled moan into the couch, the burn of her stretching you out feeling good. your skin smacks together with each thrust, grunts leaving her mouth and uncontrollable moans leaving yours, “you don’t even deserve to come. you’ve been bad, teasing me while you’re already barely clothed in front of other people?”

her hand reaches around your body, grabbing a handful of your tits. she squeezes before trailing to your nipple. she tugged sharply, making a high pitched moan leave your mouth. she twists and tugs on your nipples as her cock slips out of you from the slick of your juices, making her grab her cock and guide it back in.

“i know you saw all of them drooling over your body,” she eyes the discard calvin klein bra to the side, pants leaving her mouth as she drills into your pussy. her angle switch makes you preen, toes curling as she hits the soft, spongy spot in your walls. you clutch at the couch tightly, needing something to hold on as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. “men and women, you’re just so— fucking— hot,” she grunts, “that you have even straight women thirsting after you. are you happy?”

you’re barely even listening at this point as her hand leaves your breasts to your clit, making a V and spreading your folds around her cock. at the added clit stimulation, you whimper and begin meeting her thrusts, “unnie, please, please…”

“you would like it, wouldn’t you?” she snarls, shoving your head further, “knowing all these people want you. you’d probably even offer them a chance at fucking you, right?” despite your frantic head shaking, she continues and her hands leave your clit as her pace slows down to a painfully slow pace. you gasp, trying to force your ass back on her but she grips your hips tightly to hold you in place. “answer me.”

“no, i wouldn’t,” you half sob, “why’d you stop?”

“because you wouldn’t answer,” chaewon rolls her eyes, somehow keeping her serious front up. she looks down to see your pussy still eagerly trying to swallow her whole, smirking lightly, “you’d want them to fuck you raw?”

“what?” you whisper, blinking back frustrated tears.

“you’d want them to fuck you raw like i am,” she sounds convinced, “you never wait for me to get a condom. it’s— it’s like you wanna ruin your career and get pregnant,” she laughs, “oh, wow. your need to be full is bigger than your love for your career? you’re such a fucking cum slut.” you gasp at the name, expecting to feel dirty at the degrading name, but instead, you feel a burn in your chest and warmth all over you.

“if it were up to you, you’d be just a glory hole. where anyone could fuck you and come in you and get you pregnant. where anyone could do anything they wanted with you,” you hadn’t realized her hand had went back to your clit, beginning to rub soft circles in your clit. it felt good, but wasn’t enough.

you whine, pushing back on her, “unnie…”

“what, baby?” she coos, “you want unnie to fill you up with her come and make you all round with her baby?” you almost shriek as she pushes back in all at once, feeling every vein of her cock drag against your tight walls. she watches your pussy eagerly swallow her in, hole clenching around her and breathes in. she teases you lightly, dragging her cock back before you grab her thigh, stopping her.

“yes, please, please,” you sob out, “i want unnie to fuck a baby in me, please, unnie? please please please…”

chaewon pretends to think about it for a moment, before leaning down to pull you into a breathtaking kiss. she tugs on your bottom lip, forcing her fingers in your mouth to muffle your sounds, despite her knowing you’d love for anyone to hear and walk in on you two and join.

“don’t worry, baby,” she pats your ass, placing her leg up on the couch for a better angle, and you gasp as her cock hits that spongy spot again. her hand grips your hair, pulling your head up as you suck on her fingers, lathering them with your spit, “i’ll make you a mommy.”

you grip onto the couch with all your strength as she fucks into you, pubic bone slapping against your ass and creating a smacking sound. if no one knew before, they knew now.

it doesn’t take long for her to come, already way past that point of being embarrassed. you’d been teasing her all day, what was she supposed to do? plus, it worked out better for her in the end.

you moan as her seed shoots into you, not stopping until you were filled to the brim with her come. despite feeling full, you keep fucking back on her to meet your own orgasm, whimpers leaving your mouth.

“mommy feels full?” she asks, cooing when you nod pathetically. she almost feels bad for what she’s about to do. almost.

you fall down on the couch when she pulls out of you, no longer gripping your hair. you gasp at the loss of her cock, feeling your empty hole clench around nothing. you can feel her come begin to trickle down your leg, but you don’t pay any mind to it, instead filled with agony as you never came, “w-what are you doing?” you’re actually sobbing now, feeling tears fall down your cheeks and hit the couch. “unnie, i wanna come!”

chaewon sighs out of breath, “you did? oh, sorry, i didn’t know,” but she doesn’t start stroking her cock to get her softening cock hard again, simply standing up and wiping herself down with tissue. she tucks herself back in her cargo pants, smoothing her shirt down and checking her appearance in the mirror. her cock throbs at the sight of you crying and yearning for her to come finish the job, but you’re too busy crying to notice.

“don’t cry, mommy,” she uses her thumb to wipe your tears away, looking up at her so pitifully. “get dressed, manager unnie is waiting for us.” she goes to leave the— unlocked— room, but turns back at the last second, smirking, “make sure to keep all of my come inside you, or else i’ll be pissed.”

[idontcare4urmom]

╰┈➤just a Matt Sturniolo blurb!! genre:smutty

“f-fuck! yeah..that’s it,hm” Matt’s voice trembles shakily,his tone urgent as the silk sheets rustle under him from his legs quivering around, loosing himself into the overwhelming sensations that crush through his entire body as your hips are straddled on top of his lap,your back facing him as his cock is disappeared deeply in between your folds.

you aren’t even sure on how quickly you ended up being like this to be honest,but it was all his fucking fault.that one fucking story he posted earlier on his close friends on instagram,a part of you knew that it was exclusively for you only to observe,cause Matt was very aware of the effect he usually has on you just by the right photos of him.

{he was standing in front of a full mirror,his handsome features popping out from the dim light of the room and the soft glow from the moon that reflected outside the window.his dark brown fluffy hair messy that had one of his fingers tangled around them,the veins on his other hand clearly showing as he gripped his iPhone.his mouth slightly agape with his sweatpants hanging loose down on his waist,showing a decent amount of the waistband of his boxers.the most important,the line out of his dick was visible on the photo,a very small tent formed against the tight fabric that yet was aware to you.}

so he didn’t resist but to press the upload button,already picturing your reaction once you would view it,checking out every ten seconds for any sign of a response or even a emoji from the story to his inbox by your username.well,you didn’t exactly answered to it but decided quickly instead to visit his place without thinking much about it,heart starting to beat rapidly on the thought of how the night would take turn and leading you somehow to the currently position on his bed.

Matt had an awful tight grip of your ass on both of his palms that was usual due to his obsession he always had for them,the only noises echoing around his room being the headboard creaking against the wall by the force of both your bodies moving synchronously.him being a whimpering mess underneath you while you were supporting your jumps on his length by clasping both of his thighs with your hands.you settled your own unacceptable speed,his hips thrusting upwards in a delicious rhythm to meet your movements.

you were presently oblivious by how many minutes have passed since you were already far away from reality.his eight inches of cock filling your walls up completely with your hole squeezing around him extremely solidly,almost like you never wanted this to end.your back arched when he started to hit repeatedly that sweet spot of yours,jaw clenching with teeth gritting to muffle down loud moans from escaping away past your lips.

“baby..i don’t think i can last any longer,just let me cum in you please” Matt managed to speak with his words strained,obvious arousal dripping from his voice since he is struggling to not burst without your permission first.however,you stubbornly shook your head that made him whine,enjoying the fact that you could have him at your mercy in the next seconds and wanting to savour the moment more

he didn’t wanted you to win from his own obstinate so he automatically forced you to take all of him by pushing your hips downwards roughly,making his eyes roll back.you can’t help the gasp that leaves from your mouth without realisation,trying your best to composure yourself cause the familiar building of your orgasm on your lower abdomen increased.

your breath caught in your throat when his index finger reached down and under between the two of you,rubbing your sensitive clit in fast circles that made your head dizzy at the same time he was whispering filthy praises on your earlobe. the actions almost drove you to the edge instantly “shit! you can finish” you choked out,nearly drowning yourself on the intense feeling of pleasure.

matt felt extremely relieved by just that one phrase he heard from you so he didn’t waste any time.his toes curling as his body twitched in ecstasy with followed curses groaned out of him.the next thing you knew was his warm seed spurting in you like a tidal wave,your pussy milking every drop of him as you chased your own climax.when you came down from your hard high and back to the real world,comfortable silence falls over the room but it breaks soon as Matt speaks,his voice more deep and hoarse than normal since he was still cooling down

“didn’t know a photo would made you that turned on,i will post something like that in the future again”

——————-

if you already saw this in a Chris version..just pretend you didn’t 🤗 i wrote it withMatt instead and with small differences,xoxo evelyn

[kymerawrites]

"You're such a bloody drama queen," Simon grumbled under his breath, smoking a cigarette as he watched her pace back and forth. He didn't move an inch from his spot on the couch, arms crossed over his chest. It was always like this with her; they argue, they make up, they argue again. It was a vicious cycle they couldn't seem to break free from. He took a drag of his cigarette before blowing out a stream of smoke, eyes still locked on her

"Can't you just sit still for a bloody second?" Simon snapped, his irritation getting the better of him. "You're giving me a damn headache with all that walking around." He tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest, his gaze following her every movement. He couldn't help but feel frustrated by her constant need for motion, like a caged animal.

"I could if you'd stop being such a controlling arsehole," she shot back, stopping in her tracks to glare at him. "Sorry if my pacing bothers you, but I have the right to move around in my own home." She crossed her arms, her defiant stance mirroring his.

"Your home?" Simon echoed, a mocking edge to his voice. He snorted, extinguishing his cigarette in the ash tray. "Last I checked, we share this apartment. And believe me, I didn't ask for a fidgety partner who can't sit still for two seconds."

“God for fuck sakes Simon, you make me pace this way. Can’t you see that?!” I said irritated

He rolled his eyes, clearly unperturbed by her retort. "Oh, and it's all my fault that you're pacing around like a maniac?" He leaned back on the couch, his gaze sharpening. "Maybe, just maybe, you should try taking some responsibility for your own actions instead of blaming everything on me. Ever thought of that?"

I huffed in annoyance, not backing down from his gaze. "And maybe you should stop making me so bloody irritated that I can't stand still! You're always bossing me around, like I'm some sort of property and not a person with my own thoughts and feelings."

He stood up abruptly, his tall frame towering over her. "You know damn well that's not true," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't treat you like a bloody object. I care about you, even if you can't see it. And if I come off as controlling sometimes, it's because I want to bloody protect you."

“Oh no, it’s you and your fucking lieutenant, commander whatever the fuck you are act in my space.” I scoffed

His eyes narrowed at her sarcastic remark. "Watch your bloody tongue," he warned, his tone more menacing than before. "You know damn well what I do for a living, and I don't appreciate your tone. But while we're on the subject, you could learn a thing or two about respecting your partner. Maybe if you weren't such a bloody pain in the arse all the time, I wouldn't have to step in and take charge."

That comment hit me, just a little to make me shift from mad to confused “so, if I’m such a pain to you, such a..liability why not leave me?”

He gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. "Because goddamn it, I care about you," he snapped. "Despite all your attitude and stubbornness, I can't just walk away. Believe me, I've bloody tried. But deep down, I know I can't let you go. Even if you drive me mad with all your whining and dramatics."

I turned around not to face him “you can also just say you love me.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. He walked closer to her, his movements slow and deliberate. "I do love you, alright? But love doesn't make this any easier. It complicates everything. Because even though I love you, you still piss me off like no one else can, and it drives me bloody insane."

He grabbed my waist and hugged me from behind I just smirked “and yet I think you love all the sass and drama I give you don’t you?”

He let out a scoff, his fingers digging into her waist. "Bloody hell, you know me too well," he muttered. "Yes, there's something infuriatingly addicting about your damn attitude and all the drama you bring into my life." He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

He chuckled softly against her skin, his breath warm and tickling. "Bloody hell, you drive me wild with it. Part of me wants to strangle you, and the other part..." He trailed off, his hand roaming higher up her body, tracing her curves.

“Finish that sentence si..” I whispered

He nipped at her earlobe, his voice low and gravelly. "And the other part wants to do things that I can't even say in public." He spun her around to face him, his gaze dark and intense. "You have no idea the effect you have on me, how you make me feel. It's maddening, it's intoxicating and it's all your damn fault."

He pushed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. His hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head. "You know what else is maddening?" he growled, his face mere inches away from hers. "How bloody irresistible you are when you're all defiant and stubborn like this. It's like you're begging for me to put you in your place."

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "And the worse part is, you know damn well you have me wrapped around your little finger. Even when you're infuriating me, I can't get you out of my head." He nipped at her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive spots.

He shifted his body, pressing his thigh between her legs. "You push my buttons on purpose, just so you can get a reaction out of me. And bloody hell, you always get the reaction you want." He pinned her even tighter against the wall, trapping her in his embrace.

His lips found hers in a hard, possessive kiss. He dominated the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her in a way that was both rough and passionate. He pushed his body flush against hers, his hands roaming down to grip her thighs, lifting her up against the wall.

“You’re too good for me si..” I laughed as he lifted my legs on the wall forcing me to embrace them around his waist

He grunted with the effort, his muscles straining as he pressed her against the wall. "Bloody hell, you're a menace," he growled, his lips finding her neck again, sucking and nibbling on her sensitive skin. "Bloody menace with your damn legs wrapped around me like this. Drives me wild to have you like this, all vulnerable and pliable in my arms."

He ground his hips into hers, his arousal evident against her core. "And you're damn wrong about that. I'm not too good for you. I'm just bloody addicted to the way you make me feel, like you're a poison I can't get enough of."

I rolled my eyes “just kiss me already lovebird.” I smiled

He chuckled at her cheeky remark, his eyes dark and intense. "Bloody smartass," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another fierce kiss. He devoured her, his tongue delving into her mouth and dominating the kiss. The kiss was rough and passionate, full of pent-up desire and frustration.

And ofcourse they kissed and made up just for the cycle to continue

[cherryredstars]

Hey I wanted to say how are you and I love your blog, keep it up its amazing ✨️

Anyways I have a request for a fic about miguel in a different multiverse being like the hot shot cop and all and he's like the head detective and whatever and the reader if his partner or whatever and they come across a case where he had feelings for her for awhile and I'm this case it made him confess to her how he feels and it goes from there, but like he ends up putting her in handcuffs to have his way with her ikykwimya? anything of that stature just a big Rookie fan and that's what gave me the idea. Anyways have a lovely day 💙

Pairing: Cop!Miguel O’Hara x Partner fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Confession, Handcuffs, Gag, Fingering, Penetrative Sex

Summary: Well, that’s one way to wind down from the job…

A/N: I’m doing great, love!! Thank you for supporting my work <3

Word Count: 1.9K (Not Edited)

The hotel door rattles as he slams it shut. 

“Really?” You scoff, arms crossing as you stare at him storming across the room. “You’re acting like a child.”

Miguel ignores you, aggressively ripping off his jacket and throwing his car keys on the dresser. He starts working on his tie, undoing it as he glares into the mirror. You roll your eyes, walking over to the bed and sitting down. You’re just in view in the mirror, the displeased look on your face obvious. 

“I was just doing my job. I don’t know why yo-” 

You’re cut off when Miguel whips around and slaps his hand over your mouth. A dark glare covers his eyes. It would scare anyone, but you’ve grown used to it from years of working by his side. You glare back, silently challenging him. Miguel scoffs down at you, not approving of your defiant nature. 

“Your job is to catch criminals. Not to push their fucking buttons to the point you have a fucking gun pointed at your head.” He seethes, removing his hand from your mouth. 

“A simple miscalculation,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “Happens from time to time.”

“I- a miscalculation?!” Miguel rages. “You could have fucking died!”

You throw your hands up, an exasperated look on your face. “That’s part of the job, Miguel!”

You stand up, stepping towards him. Your head is tilted up while his is tilted down, the high difference forcing the two of you to oppose. 

“We have been waiting for this for ages,” you stress. Your finger jabs into Miguel’s chest, “You’ve been waiting on this lead for ages. We should be prepared to sacrifice anything to put this asshole behind bars.”

Miguel grits his teeth, swatting your finger away and forcefully pressing his own into your chest, “Yeah, but not your fucking life!”

“To hell with my life!” You shout, not understanding why he’s making such a big deal out of this. “I am perfectly at peace with sacrificing my life if-”

“DON’T YOU GET IT?!” Miguel yells, cutting you off. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your life for this!”

Your head pounds, mouth dropping open before shutting it and rubbing your hands down your face as you groan in frustration. 

“NO!” You yell back, your hands leaving your face. “I don’t get it! Why the fuck would you not want me to sacrifice my life-”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, DAMNIT!”

Miguel’s chest moves rapidly, brushing against yours with each breath. His face is red and his pupils blown wide as he looks down at you. Silence consumes the both of you, your mind trying to process what he just said. Miguel waits a moment, his breath calming down before he takes a deep breath. His hands come to rub at his face as he turns away from you. 

“Because I love you,” he repeats, calmer this time. 

“Miguel-” You start, but he holds a hand up to you, shaking his head. 

“No, forget it. I-” He gulps as he grabs his jacket again. “I just need to take a walk. Get some fresh air.”

He makes a move to walk away, going towards the door, but he’s stopped when you grab his arm. He turns around quickly, freezing when your hands cup his face, forcing it down as your lips crash with his. He moans, brows furrowing as he drops his jacket. His hands go to your hips, squeezing as he kisses you back desperately. His teeth scrape at your bottom lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasp. You moan when his tongue battles with yours. Your hands move to the back of his head and to his chest, tangling with the hair at the nape of his neck. Miguel’s hands copy, both of his hands moving to cradle your head and keep you close. He begins to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the hotel bed and you fall on your back. 

You and Miguel pull away, taking deep breaths as you search each other's eyes. Miguel leans down slightly, silently asking to reconnect your lips. You close your eyes as you lean forward, Miguel descending the rest of the way until your lips are locked again. Your hands come in between the two of you to quickly unbutton his shirt, and Miguel does the same with yours. You both pull away momentarily to take them off, your bra being thrown to the floor with the rest of your clothes. The room is filled with heavy breathing, both of you frantic as you reconnect. Miguel growls against your lips, his teeth sharp as he pulls at your bottom lip. You can’t help but smile, a moan falling from you when he attacks your neck next. 

He sucks at the skin, leaving open mouthed kisses along the delicate skin like he’s trying to eat you alive. You pull your upper body up slightly, Miguel following as his hands are spread out over your upper back and waist. Your eyes fall to his pants, your hands shaky as you reach out for his buckle. It clinks as you undo it, the clasp getting caught in a few holes as you unloop it. Miguel’s head pulls away from your neck, resting it against your forehead as he reaches his own hands down. 

His finger skims over the handcuffs resting at your side, pulling the cold metal away and to the side. His hands continue down to your pants, unbuttoning them and hooking his fingers under the band as he pulls them down. You huff, and he smiles at how much easier it was for him to get you completely naked as you throw his belt behind him. You roll your eyes, your own small smile on your lips as you lift up your hips. Miguel slips your pants and underwear down, his knuckles sliding against your smooth skin. Once your pants are on the floor, he sits up, helping you take off his pants until they join yours. 

His body slides between your legs, and you wrap them around his waist. His hands slide back to their positions on your waist and back, keeping you pressed to him as he moves the two of you higher up on the bed. His lips connect with yours again, and you sigh out as he gently lowers you to the bed. His hands slide up your arms, his hands warm and soft until his hands interlock with yours. He drags them up, one of his hands shifting to hold your wrists together. He hear the sound of metal clinking before a sharp hold encompasses one of your wrists. You open your eyes, tilting your head back as Miguel goes to your neck. You watch as he wraps the second handcuff around your free hand, bounding your hands in place against the headboard. He slid the handcuffs around one of the wooden pegs, trapping you. You try to press against it, but they only slide against the pole. You look back towards Miguel, your eyebrow raised at his cocky smile

“Kinky,” you tease, pulling on the cuffs again. 

Miguel chuckles, sitting up as his hands slide against your body. They slide down your neck, his thumb rubbing against your pulse point before slipping further down. His hands travel to your chest, softly kneading and palming at your breasts, his fingers flicking at your nipples. You moan, your back arching into his touch. He leans down, quickly kissing each pebbled bud before continuing his journey down. He kisses between the valley of your breasts, tongue licking at your smooth skin as he moves down your stomach. His mouth stops at your navel, his hands rubbing your thighs as he pulls away. When he looks at you, your chin is pressed to your chest as you watch him, labored breathing making it move up and down exaggeratedly. He presses a kiss into both of your inner thighs, his hot breath just teasing your cunt. 

His thumbs rub the area he just kissed, one moving lower until he holds your heat in his hands. You gasp, mouth dropping open as his thick fingers explore your folds. He spreads them apart, circling your entrance and rubbing on either side of your labia. It makes your hips buck, and you whine. He coos gently at you, dragging your slick to your clit. He rubs soothing circles against your neglected bud, basking in the way you melt into the bed. Your breaths are shaky as he plays with you, humming as more of your arousal drips from you. Your pussy weeping for him. 

His fingers plug you up, two thick fingers stretching your hole. You cry out, trying to push yourself further into him. His fingers curl, thumb taking over the slow circles to your clit. Your hips move, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he plays with you. His fingers pump slowly into you as he crawls up your body. Your eyes track his movement, tilting your head towards him. He hums as he captures you into a kiss again. You both moan into it, pleasure spiking your body. 

Right as it's on its precipice, he takes it away, his hand leaving your cunt. You whine into his mouth, pulling away from the kiss. You open your mouth in protest, but his hand hikes up your leg, your juices streaking your outer thigh as he moves it to wrap around his hip. You gasp as his tip nudges at your entrance, sinking into your warmth slowly. He groans as he bottoms out, your walls wrapping tightly around him. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the skin ass he moans and grunts. Each pump of his cock into your cunt is precise and measured, making your eyes roll back and pull against the cuffs. Miguel presses reassuring kisses to the junction of your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he spills inside of you. You cry out in both pain and pleasure, your body shaking as your own orgasm hits. 

Both of your breath heavily, your eyes shutting in exhaustion from the sex and long day of working. You focus on your breathing, not caring for the shuffling in the room until you hear Miguel's belt. You open your eyes, watching as Miguel begins redressing. You raise your brow at him as he picks up his shirt and starts buttoning it. 

“Hey, hot shot,” you call out teasingly, “Forgetting something?”

You rattle the cuffs as a hint, but Miguel doesn’t look at you. Your smile slowly diminishes as he pics up his jacket, dusting it off before shrugging it on. 

“Miguel?” You call out, rattling the handcuffs in a poor attempt to loosen them. “Miguel, this isn’t funny. Uncuff me.”

Miguel finally looks at you, a sorry look on his face. “I’m sorry, this is for the best.”

Your brows furrow, the cuffs biting into your wrists as you tug on them in despair, “What? Stop fucking around asshole and uncuff me!”

Miguel checks his pockets from his things, grabbing his keys off of the drawer. He picks up your pants, throwing them on your body in a sorry attempt to cover you up. He throws one last sorry look at you before heading to the hotel door, slipping the do not disturb sign on the handle. 

As the door shuts, you continue to pull on the cuffs. 

“Miguel! Come back here you son of a bitch!”

Tried to make it like a dramatic scene in a bajillion season long series LMAO.

[patdkoala]

I Don't Hate You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, enemies to lovers, smut, nicknames (Doll and Charming), unprotected p in v, masturbation (Fem), Oral (Fem receiving)

I'm not entirely convinced that Bucky doesn't hate me.

His resting face is also his angry face. And he's always looking at me in that tone.

Like right now. He was just sitting there staring at me.

"What?" I asked while looking up at him.

"Nothing, just... thinking."

"About?"

"You wouldn't want to know."

Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

"Try me," I said to try and get something, anything, out of him.

"Don't push it, kid."

Oh, I hate it when he calls me that.

I grit my teeth. "Fine, don't tell me. I don't care anymore.

"Fine by me." His tone was sharp. He spoke with such anger towards me and I didn't know what I ever did to him.

Bucky is handsome, sure. He's tall and largely built. The metal arm alone scares away almost everyone.

But there is something about him that I find incredibly charming.

But in a stuck-up asshole Prince Charming way.

"Whatever, Charming," I sneered back at him.

Bucky scoffed when I called him that. "Charming?"

"Yeah, you know because you are a jerk like Prince Charming," I said as I got up from the couch and poured myself a drink.

"Hey, at least I own up to it. Unlike some people, who think they're God's gift to womankind," He said as I nearly killed him right then and there.

"I AM! Have you seen this ass? And my tits? These are fantastic. You just wish you were one of the many men I have that get to touch me."

"You're as shallow as a kiddie pool."

"Confident. I'm confident. Not my fault you cry when you look in the mirror."

He sighed and I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile. "I don't know why I waste my time with you. I could find a rock with more personality than you."

I had had it with him. He is such an asshole.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you. Hating you would mean I loved you at one point and grew to hate you. I can't stand you."

"Wow. Fantastic. How about I go outside and help you find a rock with a great personality?"

"Be my guest."

I set down my drink and walked towards the door. He was standing in front of it.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. What are you doing?"

"Getting a rock. What does it look like?"

"No you're not," He said in a stern tone.

"What are you saying?" I was so confused. First, he wants the rock. Now he doesn't.

"You're not going outside to find a rock," He said it but it felt like a demand.

"I'm not?"

"No. You are not."

"Are you asking me not to? Or telling me not to?"

"I'm telling you."

oh

My breath caught in my throat as he just stared at me. There he was. Again. Just staring at me.

"What is going on in that mind of yours?" I asked with actual curiosity.

"You really wanna know?" He asked as interest peaked in me.

I couldn't even speak I was so excited. I just nodded like a mindless bimbo.

He got closer only to whisper, "I'm trying to figure out why in the hell I haven't left you in the middle of the woods yet."

Asshole.

I pushed him back against the door but not in a flirty way. More of a shove before storming off.

He doesn't even flinch. He just glares at me as I storm off.

I go to my room to cool off. I obviously like him but he doesn't like me and I am just going to have to deal with it.

I decided to work out. I needed to get this fire out of my system. I blasted my music into my headphones as I started my routine.

The workout wasn't working. I needed to matters into my own hands. Or, hand.

I made sure my door was locked and when I did I saw Bucky in the living room doing push-ups. He was trying to cool off as well.

I am going to make his life very hard. Well, and something else.

I sat on my bed and slipped a hand into my shorts. I started off slow but then built up tension.

My fingers felt nice but they weren't him.

"Oh, Bucky~" I moaned quietly as I came.

That was when I heard the knock.

I got up and opened the door.

"I hope you didn't think I didn't hear anything."

"Oh, but I was intentionally being loud for you, Charming." I smiled as I raised an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you were."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes, actually."

"What is it now? Gonna tell me how much you hate me? How much you wish I was dead? Or maybe-" "I was just going to ask that you keep it down when you finger yourself."

"Seriously? That's it? No snide comments?"

"Don't temp me."

"Oh, but it's my favorite thing to do!" I whined.

He just stared at me. Again. So, I stared back. He turned around and walked away. I rolled my eyes and followed him.

"Do you seriously have to follow me everywhere?"

"No. But I just want you to tell me the truth." I said as I followed after him.

"What truth? That you're a pain in my ass? That I want nothing more than to ditch you?"

I was actually hurt this time. "Is that actually true?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"Because I need you to be very honest with me, Barnes. If that is really how you feel then I will just head out and you will never have to see me ever again."

"Fucking guilt-tripping. You're not gonna leave, and you know it."

"Watch me." I felt the fire inside me rise.

"Oh please, spare me. I know you. You wouldn't make it a week on your own."

I rolled my eyes. "And why is that? Why do you think I need you all the time?" I was practically screaming at him at this point.

"You are the most dependent person I have ever met. You would die without me."

I thought for a second. "No. No, I think it's the other way around. You'd die without me and you just don't want to admit it. I swear you are such an asshole."

"And I think you are in denial. That's why you cling to me so much because you hate being alone with yourself."

I scoff. "I think you are forgetting how okay I was with myself not too long ago in that bedroom in my own hands."

"Oh yes. I remember. You were so "okay" you were grunting and groaning for half an hour." He paused and took a breath. "You want the truth? I'll give it to you. Right now. You're a spoiled, ungrateful, whiny, little bitch," He said I was slightly taken aback but I didn't flinch.

"Oh, come on. Say it like you mean it." I roll my eyes one last time.

"You'll be back here in a day you useless piece of-"

"Save it. I'm leaving."

"Fine."

I went to my room and honest to God packed a bag.

I went back towards the front door and saw that Bucky hadn't moved. I lifted my hand to the handle. I was going so slow a snail could have stopped me.

I wanted Bucky to speak up and say something. Stop me from leaving. But he just stood there.

Then he cleared his throat.

"Oh, this should be good. What is it now?"

"Please... don't go..."

I was speechless.

"Give me one reason. One honest reason to stay," I finally spoke.

"Because..." he doesn't continue.

"Exactly. That's why I'm leaving. You only want to fight me when I'm here but you won't fight for me to stay."

"Don't go. Please," He said in a breathy sentence.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to go."

I didn't know what to say. He was just staring at me. Again. I swear to God this guy has got a problem.

Except this time he looked vulnerable.

Helpless.

Needy.

"Are you asking me to stay? Or telling me."

"I'm fucking begging you."

I dropped my bag and turned around so that I was standing closer to him. It was taking everything in me not to pounce on this man and rip his clothes off of him.

We were so close that I felt his breath hitch.

Say something God Damnit!

He didn't say a thing.

He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into a kiss.

"I- I thought you hated me," I said in a breathless sentence.

"I do." He said as he brought his mouth to my neck.

I moaned as he touched me so feverly. I had never felt something like this before.

The passion. The rage. The fire.

He pulled me closer as if it was even fucking possible, and he started to kiss down my collarbone.

"Bedroom- the bedroom-" I stuttered out.

Bucky smiled in a way I had never seen before. He had mischief in his eyes. He picked me up and carried me to my room.

He put me on the bed and crawled on top of me.

Mother fucking Bucky Barnes was crawling on top of me.

He held our gaze as he removed my shorts and soaked panties.

He held our gaze as he moved to the edge of the bed and sunk his teeth into my inner thigh.

The only time he looked away was when his head was too far buried in my cunt to even notice his surroundings.

I tugged on his hair and tried to pull him closer. I was so close to coming and we were only on that bed for maybe 6 minutes.

"I know, Doll," He said as chills went down my spine.

I wanted more.

"Mhmmm," I moaned out at the empty feeling as he got off me and then he removed his shirt.

I sat up and ran a hand down his chest.

The muscles.

The scars.

The happy trail.

The sweat.

I wanted to lick him.

As my hand was gliding down his glistening chest, he removed his belt and pants.

He was so hard that part of him was poking out of his boxers.

"That looks painful," I said as he slowly pushed me back onto the bed.

"You have no idea what I have been going through all day today," He said as he pushed his knee between my legs to spread them apart.

"All day?" I questioned.

"When you asked me what was on my mind while I was staring at you from the couch. I was thinking about how hard my dick was and what it would feel like inside you," He said as he moved his boxers down just enough to get free.

I kissed him roughly and bit his bottom lip as he lowered himself into me softly so I could adjust to his size.

He then held onto one of my legs. "What-"

"I need to get a better angle." He said as I felt like I was splitting apart.

I moaned so loud as he started thrusting into me. Hard.

His hips snapped so fast and the whole bed shook.

He was the one grunting and groaning now.

"Oh, Bucky~" I moaned out again but this time with him inside me. Happily.

"No, use the nickname," He said as I smiled. "I did. Bucky-" He stuck a finger inside just to hit my clit.

"Charming!" I yelped out as felt myself getting closer and closer.

His hips started faltering and my legs were starting to tremble.

"I- 'm close Doll," Bucky moaned out as I sat up a little more so he could really get up in there.

"Me too, Charming," I said as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I think I hit a nerve with that last one.

I moaned so loudly as I came around him. He came very soon after. I think the feeling of me pulsing around him was too much for him.

He pulled out and then cleaned us off with the henley he had thrown off.

He laid down next to me and pulled me close so my back was to his chest.

"Do you still want me to go find you a rock?" I asked as he laughed.

"You are insufferable."

[shibaraki]

KISS IT BETTER ┊ SHINSOU HITOSHI

tags: GN reader, pro hero shinsou, support engineer reader, brief descriptions of blood + injury, tending to wounds, mutual pining, fluff, idiots to lovers, love confessions

wc: 1.9k

“You know I’m not a doctor, Hitoshi,” your voice is a low murmur yet loud in the cramped space of your bathroom. Just you, his shallow breathing and the steady flow of water in the sink. “I wish you would actually go to a hospital, or someone with a healing quirk”.

Hitoshi shrugs in the reflection and immediately appears to regret it as his face twists in discomfort, the movement jostling his wound. The bullet grazed a vivid arc right across the back of his left shoulder; thankfully not deep enough to require stitches or to damage the layers of skin beneath, but given the awkward to reach area and the blood that had been streaming through his fingers upon arrival you can’t say you blame him for waking you.

“You do it better,” he rasps. The soft hair on the back of your neck stands on end as you sense his eyes on you in the mirror. “You’re gentle. And good with your hands”.

The gauze dabbed around his wound is saturated red, quickly darkening and taking on a brownish hue. Resolutely avoiding his gaze you toss it beside the molehill of stained swabs already on the counter, reaching for a clean one and running it under the cold water. “I’m good with your equipment,” you stress with a huff, willing the heat crawling up your neck to go away. Years of working with delicate machinery keeps your hands steady. “I fix gadgets, Hitoshi. Not people”.

Hitoshi hums. Rather than contemplative he sounds faintly amused at your strong denial, as though he knows something you don’t. “You fix me just fine,” comes his soft reply as you successfully staunch the bleeding. Following the steps that have become routine for you both, he passes back the usual tub from your med kit—used so often now that the label has worn off—and adds nothing further while you cover the wound with a thin layer of petroleum jelly.

“Bandage,” you say, proffering your hand once more. Hitoshi twists his good arm to give you the non-stick dressings. You mumble an apology at the quiet hiss drawn between gritted teeth as you smooth the covered edges around the wound. “And… there. You’re set. That’s as good as you’ll get from me”.

Hitoshi turns in place before you’ve the chance to step away. You find yourself closer than intended. The white luminescence drapes over his shoulders and glints off the silver studs in each earlobe. You don’t know where to look. His ribs expand as he takes a staggered breath and your chests meet; a brief touch of bare skin but enough to make the sound of your heart flood your ears.

You catch how his throat bobs and entertain the thought that he might be equally affected. “Thanks,” he says. The gentle timbre of his voice settles over you like a cold fog of longing.

Neither of you have moved. You do not address the proximity as you study his upper body. There’s old bruising on his hip that looks a bit like an abstract painting but nothing else of immediate concern. He’s lean and angular, tall enough to cast an impressive shadow; neither of you are children anymore.

“You don’t have any other injuries hidden, do you?” you ask, eyes trailing up the column of his throat and lingering on the healed scar tissue cutting through the right of his mouth. It begins beneath his nose, strikes through the dark scruff along his jaw and ends far beneath his jugular, a paint stroke left by a brush with death. The memory is fresh in your mind and guides your hands to cup his chin, thumb tracing the raised skin. You don’t recall ever being that afraid for anyone, and yet he returned to work the day after as though nothing had happened.

At the very least it gives you ample reason to stare at his mouth. You can feel his gaze on you, peering down through half lidded eyes. There’s warm intensity behind them, like he can see through your poorly strung excuse, but if that is the case then he’s allowing it to happen, and you think that reveals just as much.

“It healed perfectly. You don’t need to worry about it,” he murmurs. There’s almost a breathless quality to it that invites goosebumps. And you freeze, as if caught.

“Not worried,” his lips press thin at the sudden cold tone as you turn to gather the used gauze and throw it in the bin beside the sink. “Your funeral not mine”.

Hitoshi moves when you nudge him aside, blood staining the dispenser as you squeeze some soap into your hands and scrub yourself raw under the running tap. The murky red water gurgles down the drain, rivulets streaking higher up the basin and likely to stain. You’re so lost in the sight that you barely register the larger hand coming to cover your own.

“Stop. Let me,” he says, already prying your entwined fists apart to gently massage the soap along each finger. Body heat seeps through your sleep shirt as he loosely wraps around you. You lean into him a fraction and imagine he’s embracing you like a lover while he cleans the dried blood from beneath your nails.

Silence befalls the small space once the water cuts out. Rather than dry your hands Hitoshi keeps them there, encased in his, his thumbs stroking back and forth over your knuckles. He rests his forehead on the curve of your throat and something shifts. The atmosphere, the ephemeral thing between you that you called friendship, the hips that press closer until he’s shaped perfectly to your back.

“I’m sorry,” you hear him say.

Wild violet hair tickles your cheek. It’s shorter than last time. You stare at your conjoined reflection as you overturn your wrists, threading your wet fingers together until your palms kiss. “For what?” you prompt, watching his head lift while you speak. “For constantly breaking your support equipment? For bursting into my apartment after midnight and bleeding all over my carpet again? For scaring me and making me lose sleep? For this—” your eyes meet in the mirror and your mouth becomes dry. “For this less than professional relationship?”

At that the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth lifts in the suggestion of a smile, and suddenly exasperation and fondness is warring over your expression. He clears his throat, almost shy, and he tightens his grip on your fingers. “I guess I’m sorry for all of that, too. But that’s not what I meant”.

“What else is there?” you tilt your head. In a heart stopping move, he turns his nose into your temple.

“I’m sorry I can’t… shit. That I can’t be normal about this kind of thing,” he admits, jaw shifting as he fights the discomfort that so often accompanies being vulnerable. “I always feel like I need some dire excuse otherwise you’ll see right through me”.

“See through you—?” the clamouring in your mind comes to a standstill. Your tongue sits heavy behind your teeth. You spin in his arms, The sink counter digs into your lower back and your hands, mostly dried by the air, come to rest on his bare chest. A mottled blush spreads across his collarbones. “What, you bled on my carpet because you didn’t want me to know you liked me or something?”

Hitoshi grimaces. His eyes rose to the ceiling to avoid your scrutiny and he hesitates to hold your hips. “Sounds stupid when you put it like that,” he huffs.

“Because it is,” you remark, sliding your hands further up and around his ears. Cradling the back of his head you tip him forward and force him to look at you. “You could’ve just brought me coffee at work or something”.

“You’re missing the point,” he mutters, gaze dropping to your lips and away, staring at the space between your eyebrows. “I did it so you wouldn’t know”.

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no way that you’d…” he blinks. His words lose strength as your nose bumps his. You feel a shaky breath leave his lips.

“No way that I’d like you?” as you finish the sentence for him, unsure if he even hears you behind then far off look in his eyes. Emboldened, you pitch your voice lower, quiet enough to cover the short distance between your mouths. You stroke your thumb over the swell of his cheek and say, “You think I patch up every guy that rolls through my bedroom window?”

“Well. There better not be any other guys coming in through your windows,” he rasps, cautiously tipping forward. A playful furrow has etched into his brow. Hitoshi wets his lips, searching your expression for something—perhaps rejection or anything close to it. “I know you’re a good person. You’re good to me. I figured that’s all it was”.

“Right, I’m good to you,” you nod and hear his breathing hitch as your mouths brush. The blush across his chest has spread fingers up his throat to his cheeks, enough reach to stain his ears pink. Hitoshi sways forward. You collide. He kisses you, finally. It is every bit as solemnly sweet and respectful as the hands at your waist.

You can’t help but smile, and feel his smile in turn. There is something so boyish and coy about it; you would never expect it from a man of his status—a man that sees the worst of humanity and spends his nights both evading and preventing death.

“…Oh,” he breathes dumbly as you pull back, his focus caught on the swipe of your tongue.

“Oh,” you repeat to lightheartedly tease, pushing the heel of your hands to his cheeks together until his mouth juts into an ugly pout. Restlessness grips you seeing it paired with his dazed expression, already wanting more than he can give in his current condition.

You release his cheeks and rub them in apology. “You’re done for the night, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” fingers dig in at your soft waist, drawing you impossibly close, as though he were savouring the last of the moment. You smooth over his shoulders, down the curve of his biceps, along thick forearms to take his wrists.

“Good. You’re coming to bed with me,” you tell him. The stupefied look after tucking a kiss to the corner of his mouth will never get old, you’re sure of it. “We’re going to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll help you clean and redress your injury and then,” you press another kiss on his jaw, nuzzling the coarse stubble there, “then you can take me out for breakfast”.

You almost lose your footing. In one swift motion Hitoshi has swung the bathroom door open and begun corralling you through it toward the bedroom. There’s an echo of soft, near drunken laughter as you navigate the darkness, and you realise, belatedly, that it is coming from you.

The strong arms cinched around your middle unraveled to drop you on top of the covers. Reclining into the plush pillows at the head of your bed, you holdout your arms to welcome Hitoshi into honeyed repose. The mattress yields under his weight. Breath held, he crawls over to you—braces over you and sinks onto his forearms.

Seconds pass. Fingers dance across his back, avoiding his bandages. Your grin is concealed by the darkness but it’s clear in your voice. “Hitoshi,” you whisper. “You can breathe now”.

With an exaggerated exhale, Hitoshi sinks into the crook of your body and smooshes his face into the pillow beside your head. “I’ll try not to bleed on your bedsheets,” he says, muffled. Then quieter, much later, when he’s sure you won’t hear it, “I like you”.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Lipstick Kisses (Azriel x Female! reader)

AN: while I LOVED my last Azriel fic I felt kinda bad about how it ended to so even though this was supposed to be a Cassian fic I thought I would switch it up just to say I’m sorry lol 

Summary: You and Azriel weren’t together. But you also weren’t not together. Sure he warmed your bed nightly, but he had made it clear that he was hesitant to date his best friend, Rhysand’s, little sister. You were content to play the game until one night a certain princess got so far under your skin you couldn’t see straight. 

Warnings: jealousy, unprotected sex, cockwarming if you squint? 

Word Count: 2496

(all pics are from pinterest) 

Rita’s had never been so busy before. Packed from wall to wall with members of every court here to celebrate the week leading up to Starfall. A tradition my brother had long since put on. Everyone seemed to be merry and happy, even Azriel who stood at the bar with the Princess of Adriata. 

Azriel and I had been hot and heavy for a couple of months. My whole life the shadowsinger and I had danced around one another, flirting here and there but never acting. It wasn’t until one night when I ran into the spymaster in the hallway of the House of Wind, when we couldn’t stay away from one another. It was a mess of hands, teeth, tongues and kisses as he took me against the wall. From that moment on Azriel sought to warm my bed nightly, but nothing more and I never thought to ask him why for fear of losing him. We weren’t together, weren’t not together. And I had no right to stare daggers at the Princess of Adriata, yet here I stood, at the edge of the room doing just that. 

“Looking a little tense there y/n,” Cassain drawled, nudging my shoulder. 

“I am not tense,” I gritted out. 

“Then why does it look like you’re about to shatter that glass with your bare hand?” he retorts. I look to where my polished fingers are gripping my cocktail in rage. 

“I’m just scared someone is going to knock my drink out of my hand, it’s super busy in here,” I say, loosening my grip on the glass. 

Cassian let out a chuckle, “You sure it has nothing to do with the way Az is looking at the Princess of Adriata?” he smirked. While Az and I hadn’t told anyone about our nightly escapades, poor Cassain was practically forced to have the knowledge as his room was next to mine. 

I meet Cassian’s eyes in a sideways glare causing him to laugh again. 

“Of course he wants The Princess of Adriata,” I sneer at her name. 

“You’re a Princess too y/n,” Cassian reminds me.

“Yeah well apparently not the right type,” I huff, turning around so I don’t have to watch them smile and flirt anymore. 

“You should get him back,” Cassian muses. 

“If you’re trying to take me into your bed again it won’t work.” I laugh while sipping my drink, remembering a different drunken night, or a few of them, that Cassian and I had shared at Rita’s. 

“You wound me Princess, you can’t say you didn’t enjoy yourself all those years ago,” he smirked, bumping my shoulder again. 

“Illyrians really are sensitive babies. Now what kind of revenge did you have in mind?” I smirk into my glass. 

“You got some red lipstick in that bag?” his eyes gleamed. 

I rummage around through the mess of trinkets in my purse till I find the red rouge sitting in the bottom and pull it out. “Looks like I do,” I say, holding it up for him to see. 

“Perfect, now put it on,” he says standing in front of me so I can use his siphon as a mirror as I always had for years anytime I needed to fix my makeup or hair. He used to hate it, but now I think it makes him feel special. 

“I fail to see where this is going,” I contest putting the lipstick back in my bag. 

Cassian didn’t say anything, he just pointed to his cheek asking for me to kiss it. I rolled my eyes and obliged. When I pulled back a bright red lipstick stain adorned his cheek and I realized what he was doing now. 

“Cassian, you're a genius,” I laugh. 

“Well I am a specialist in war tactics after all. Now go around and say hello to every Lord in here and greet them with one of your sweet kisses. The second Az looks around he’s going to lose his mind.” he explains. 

“Thanks Cass,” I laugh before turning away but I feel his hand on my arm. 

“I think I might deserve a little more thanks than that Princess,” he says playfully.

“Fine you big baby,” I roll my eyes before placing a quick kiss on his lips seeing the lipstick residue there. 

“You’re welcome princess,” he smirks triumphantly before turning away.

I turn to the crowd of people in front of me scanning the hundreds of happy faces packed into the tavern. Like a beacon of hope I find Thesan conversing with two other Lords, the perfect target. 

“Thesan!” I cheer, “My brother and I are honored to have you here in our court,” I greet him sweetly, pressing a discreet kiss to his cheek.    

“Princess it’s always a pleasure to be in your presence,” Thesan smiles warmly. “May I present Lord Baylor and Lord Suffolk.” 

Both Lords reach their hands out to mine and I push them away, “Please I’ve never been fond of handshakes,” I smile gently, embracing each of them and pressing kisses to their cheeks as well. 

“We are honored to be here Princess y/n, the stories of your beauty still don’t do you justice,” Lord Baylor smiled.  

“You all flatter me too much, it’s going to go straight to my head,” I tease playfully before excusing myself to mingle with the other lords.       

I continue my charade until my drink empties and I’m forced to retreat to the bar for another. I be sure to pass right by where Azriel and The Princess of Adriata are talking before leaning against the bartop and requesting my regular. I try to hide the smirk when I feel a certain scarred hand graze my elbow. 

“Is there a reason why those red lips have been on the cheek of every man here tonight Princess?” Azriel says lowly into my ear. 

“I’m just being a good host Az,” I say, not keeping my eye off the bartender making my drink. 

“More than good the way I see it,” he grits and his hands trace the backs of my arms. The bartender brings my drink over and I leave a large tip in his jar. I finally turn to meet Azriel’s intense gaze. 

“Don’t be so jealous Azriel, after all we aren’t even together,” I tilt my head before sauntering off. 

When I get back to the House of Wind that night I’m utterly exhausted. I open the door to my bedroom and kick my shoes off sending them flying across the room. My dress is the next to go, falling in a pile on the floor. I wash up, and slip on my nightgown before falling into my bed with a sigh, too lazy to turn off the small fae light next to me. I try to sleep but it’s not the same without a certain Illyrian next to me. 

A half hour later I hear the door open slowly, I pretend to still be asleep not wanting to even speak to Azriel. When I had left Rita’s he was still talking with The Princess of Adriata, and this time she had a hand on his bicep.

I heard daggers and leathers falling to the ground as the bed sank behind me. 

“Scooch over Princess, there's no room for me,” he whispered into my ear as his arms circled around me to move me over. 

“Get off me Az, I don’t remember inviting you to my bed tonight,” I grumble, not moving an inch. 

He doesn’t move, “I’ve been sleeping here for three months y/n what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I don’t want The Princess of Adriata’s sloppy seconds sleeping in my bed, now go to your own room,” I huff, slamming my head down on my pillow for emphasis. 

Azriel scoffs, “This is about Cressida?” he asks in disbelief. 

“Oh good for you, you’re on a first name basis with the oh so perfect princess,” I say donning the same mocking tone I used to Cassian. 

“You do know that you’re also a Princess,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. 

“So I’ve heard,” I roll my eyes, moving my shoulder away from him. “Now get out.” 

“Y/n, I didn’t sleep with her,” Azriel says, pressing another kiss to my shoulder.

“Yeah right,” I scoff. 

“She did try, but I told her I was seeing someone,” he continued kissing my arm. 

“Oh really?” I sneer. 

“Yes my love,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You.”  

“I thought you didn’t want to be with me, I thought you just wanted to fuck me,” I grumble trying not to enjoy his lips on my body. 

“I never said that,” he states and I can feel his agitation. 

“Well you didn’t not say it either, what am I supposed to think when I only see you at night?” I argue. 

“Fine, I’ll admit it, I was scared.” he grumbled, moving to lean back on the pillows. 

I sit up to face him and find him pressing the heels of his hands into his forehead like he has the largest migraine to ever be known to man. 

“Scared of what?” I scoff in disbelief. He was Azriel, my spymaster and a shadowsinger. I had seen his fierceness on a battlefield countless times, seen him slaughter enemies of my court. What could possibly scare him?

“I was scared that one day you’d wake up and realize what I truly am, a lowborn nobody. You’re a princess for gods sakes y/n. The most beautiful woman in Prythian. You should be with a prince like Varian, not me. And even though I knew that I couldn’t stay away from you. You smell so good and your skin is so soft and the way you look at me sometimes? It would’ve taken all seven High Lords to keep me from your bed, especially when you invite me to it so willingly. I was scared that if we made our relationship something more than just pleasure that you would realize that, and that’s a blow I couldn’t handle.” Azriel confessed, finally ripping his hands off his forehead to stare at the ceiling.  

“Azriel I-” 

“It’s okay you don’t have to say anything,” he sighed, getting out of bed. 

“Az,” I plead, but he keeps walking.

 “Azriel stop!” I scream not the request of a lover, but the order of a princess. I see his wings twitch as he stops moving, still not turning to meet my eye. 

“Azriel I love you,” I confess. 

He whips around to meet my eyes, using his years of reading people to try and decipher whether or not I’m telling the truth. He finds no trace of a lie and before I know it he’s standing over the bed and bringing his lips to mine. His knees sink to the bed and I use his off balance to push him down into the pillows so I can straddle his lap. 

“Do you mean it?” he asks as I lean back to look at him, his eyes blown out and on cloud nine. 

“I’ve loved you for years Az, just ask my brother. When I thought you didn’t want to do anything but bed me my heart was broken, but I was willing to take whatever I could get.” I explained. 

“You have all of me y/n,  you always will,” he smiles, leaning up to kiss me. “But I’m still mighty jealous of all those lipstick prints, especially the ones I saw on Cassian.” he smirks against my skin. 

“I think I can make it up to you,” I smile before reaching over to my bedside table to retrieve the lipstick from my discarded clutch. I keep our eyes locked as I put the cherry red color all over my lips and I swear I feel his cock twitch under me. 

I lean down to leave a kiss on his cheek, then his forehead, his jaw, his chin and then I give the other side of his face the same treatment. I move my lips down either side of his neck earning a low groan from him. I smile and continue my assault all over his bare chest and shoulders. 

“Fuck y/n,” he moans and I can tell he’s trying not to flip me over and pound me into the mattress. 

I leave lipstick marks all over his abs and when I reach his boxers I pull the waistband down just enough to leave a kiss right above his aching cock. 

“Fuck this I need to be inside you,” he grunts and I’m quickly being hauled up by my arms and tossed on my back. Within moments he slams his cock inside me. 

“Oh fuck Azriel!” I scream, raking my nails down his back. 

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping as Azriel thrusts inside me at a brutal pace. Both seeking his own pleasure and to claim. 

“Your turn Princess,” he smirks before sucking the skin of my neck into his mouth. My hands fly to his hair pulling him closer to me as his teeth sink into my neck.

“Azriel,” I breathe into his ear and he spurs his hips even faster. I feel him leave a light lick soothing the skin he bit into. 

“Mine,” he growls before leaning back to admire his work. He lifts my legs and puts them over his shoulders to hit me even deeper making my eyes roll to the back of my head. 

“Azriel!” I scream practically in subspace. 

“That’s right Princess, let everyone know who owns this little pussy,” he grins with male pride. 

“Yours Az all yours,” I breathe, unable to find my words.

“Good girl,” he says before reaching down to rub circles into my clit. The sudden sensation is enough to have me arching my back and cumming on his cock, a string of curses and his name falling off my lips.

Azriel continues thrusting into me seaking his own pleasure before spilling into me with a moan that practically shakes the doors. His head burrows into my neck and I run my hands through his hair pressing kisses to his face. I look up at him to see the lipstick marks all over him and I can’t help but laugh. 

He rolls us to the side taking me with him so his cock is still inside me. 

“Do you think Rhys is gonna kill me when he finds out?” Azriel asks jokingly but I can tell he’s genuinely wondering. 

“Well he was pissed at Cassian but he got over it so I’d say we’re good,” I sigh tracing the lipstick marks left on his chest. 

“Wait, you slept with Cassian?” he asks, stunned. 

“Yeah like 105 years ago, you didn’t know?” I laugh. 

“No I didn’t,” he says, throwing his arms around me and standing up making sure his cock doesn’t leave its spot nestled inside me.

“What are you doing?” I giggle playing with his hair as I feel my back hit  the far wall of my room. 

“Fucking you against Cassian’s bedroom wall,” he smirks kissing me deeply. “Gotta let him know we’re official now.”