#how is that not on purpose? how is it that everything can be spot on for a chunk all at once

[abbyslovergirlxo]

Weaken Me 1

Young Ambessa Medarda x NoxianFem!Reader

synopsis: Noxus was never your home, not truly. But finally you have the chance to leave, and you have the love of your life right beside you.

a/n: there will be a part two to this which will be the final part. also I am aware this isn’t accurate to Noxus, just for story purposes. 💕

One by one you stuffed the little cracker packages into the bag. You contemplated how much to take, worried your estimates of stock weren't the best. But you knew she could eat enough for three, so you settled to take all of them. For a moment, you felt guilty.

These ones were your mothers favorite and you hadn’t even left her a single one. Ignoring that voice in your head, you took one out, throwing it back into the golden pantry. She wouldn’t notice you’d left it for her. You knew that. But the idea of your mother searching for you frantically, anxious about her insolent daughter, with not even a cracker to console her made you unwell. Deep down maybe it was your way of saying sorry, for everything.

I’m really sorry I ran away Mum. I’m really sorry that you had me as a daughter and all I can offer are a pack of fucking crackers. It’s all I can offer, please accept it.

The thought made you grimace, made you angry. And that wasn’t part of your plan tonight.

Get it and go. Get it and go. Get it and go. Get it and go. You repeat to yourself, over and over and over.

Quietly and quickly you moved your feet against the same floor you had your first steps. You grabbed convenient and easy clothes, in the same closet you’d had since you got a ‘proper’ room at age seven. You cried silently as you grabbed the wipes from the bathroom you had your first period. The tears were forced to be even more discreet as you walked past your parents bedroom. You never stopped walking but just for a second you looked at their door and imagined them opening it, apologizing for everything and begging you to stay. Just for a second.

An empathizer for a daughter, the gods laugh at me.

Ever since you were a little girl, you noticed that there was something wrong with you. Most distinctly when you were seven you told your parents that you preferred to stay at home and read, which was of no issue. Initially. Their concern grew when the only books you’d ever snatch from the family library were ones about farming and trivial things as such. You remembered your father snatching the book from you, and placing another one in your hands. The Art of War, it had been called. You hadn’t enjoyed the book much to say the least.

Another time when you were fourteen and your cousin had come over, some dispute turned explosive and your mother found you on the floor with blood leaking from your nose. Your cousin was punished promptly but you didn’t miss the expression on your mothers face when she asked you why you hadn’t hit her back. I didn’t want to hurt them, you’d said. A murmured ‘weak’ was all you got in return. Memories like those made you feel empty. And you knew so long as you stayed here, you’d always be.

The next tear that spilt this time was quickly wiped away. Noxians didn’t need tears, they didn’t deserve them. Even if they were your own parents. With a heavy bag and a heavier heart, you slouched the grey pack over your shoulder, taking one last look at the enormous house you had grown up in. You wouldn’t miss it, not particularly. It was hard to miss a home that felt like a prison. But it had been your only home. So maybe you’d miss that, the idea of what it could’ve been, should’ve been.

The journey to the meet up spot wasn’t nearly as heartbreaking as the venture in your home, this one was a walk in the park. You did well to evade any Noxian soldier roaming the streets at night. Your teachers had always commented that your offensive training was below standard but your agility was unmatched, the one thing you could hold somewhat proudly. So without even a hiccup, you made it to the large abandoned glass house.

It was silent, completely still. Not even the sound of some distant animal or bug could be heard, just voidless silence. It was a bit eerie you’d admit. Of all your times you’ve come here, this was undoubtedly the most un-routine, most risky. As you made your way through the broken furniture and peeled down wallpaper, you wondered if she made it here safe. You knew that she’d always been better than you when it came to combat and studies and yet you clenched your bag tighter at the idea the silence was a warning.

Finally, you made it to the room. It was the same as it always was, dark and cold. You placed your bag on the floor next to the makeshift sitting area you both put together years ago. For a moment you considered going and looking around for her but you knew that to be fully emotion fuelled. It would do neither of you good if you moved around too much.

Besides, you thought, my Ambessa is capable.

She also wasn’t a liar. So you sat complacently on the old dull chair, closing your eyes and relaxing into it. You didn't realize how tense you were until you released your spring trap like muscles.

“ You got here fast.”

You sprung open your eyes, turning to the doorframe, a tall familiar silhouette greeting you. Without so much as a hello, you ran to her. She accepted the hug as always, pulling you even harder than you pulled her. It felt like gratification, having her close like this. She also accepted the kisses you gave her, some on her lips, others on her cheeks.

“ I missed you.” You murmured into her neck, refusing to break the embrace. Her chin rested on your head as she nodded.

“ I’m here now.” It held a gentle She said the words with such finality, such certainty that it calmed you. Finally now, you allowed her the freedom of her body again.

“ So,” you said. “ When are they coming?”

“ It should be no longer than an hour.”

You nodded. But anxiety still tugged at you.

“ An hour? Do you think anyone will notice before then? It’s late but…”

She noticed your mind wandering off, probably imagining emotionless soldiers rounding the two of you up, taking you off to god knows where, facing god knows what. She put her hand on your shoulder, using her finger to lift your chin up to look up at her.

“ Everything's going to go just fine, Darling. I promise you.”

She also said this with a certain finality, in all fairness you were sure Ambessa said most things like this. Even if she wasn’t certain, she spoke as such. So you relied on the love you know she held for you, the respect. If Ambessa said everything was going to be okay, then it was.

It was. You thought. It’s going to go just fine. She said so.

You hummed, shaking your head slightly in an attempt to think about what it’d be like once everything actually did go according to plan. Your mind imagined the boat, being out in the ocean. Then you envisioned Piltover, the large and bright city. Well according to your parents. They didn’t say it so fondly though, mainly with contempt. But typically anything they hated you loved.

“ Here.” Her voice knocked you out of your thoughts.

You looked down at her hand, a bottle of water she offered you.

“ To calm you.”

You smiled at her, raising a brow.

“ Thank you sooo much, my savior.” You joked, uncharacteristically she didn’t reciprocate it, humming and only waiting for you to grab it.

You brushed it off, deciding that maybe she was more anxious than she let on. That was fair, you both were leaving behind a great deal. Your families, both high ranking, wealth and a secured life. As brutal as you knew them to be, your life was set out for you here, you were born with a purpose already bestowed. You just had to be worthy of it.

But you were also escaping a life of emptiness, war, the darkness that was being a mindless soldier. This was the right thing to do, uncertainty was better than what you knew what your life would be like if you stayed. Still, many things are to be left behind. You prayed silently in your mind that whatever possibly plagued Ambessa quelled quickly. You both deserved as much.

Thankfully you took the water bottle, making a point to drink some in front of her. She seemed to calm more after that so you took the opportunity to drag her over the tattered chairs. Ambessa sat in the seat you preoccupied before.

“ Rude.” You joked, hoping to see her relax just a bit.

She smiled up at you. “ Oh hush, come sit with me.”

She couldn’t see it but your heart leaped at the sight. Her eyes crinkled in that peculiar way, hair shifting among her shoulders. Years of knowing her and yet she made you feel so deeply even still. You wondered if she knew how much she made you feel, how much you loved her. Sure, you’d tell her. But in your soul it didn’t feel like something words could portray. To you, whatever affirmations of love you’d whispered to her was a poor conveyment of your being, of your affections for her.

“...I love you Ambessa.”

Suddenly the room was heavier like before, but instead of anxiety it was filled with need. Her face dropped just the slightest as she seemed to almost reach out for you. But you stayed still, unsure of how to move with the sudden wave of emotion washing over you.

“ Thank you…so much.”

You weren’t sure what you were thanking her for. Maybe everything? Maybe for when she held you for hours after your mother made you feel small? Maybe for when she kissed your scars from training? Maybe for when she reassured over and over how much she loved you? Maybe for this very moment? Years of not being seen by the people who should’ve held onto you without doubt made you so weary. And then there she was, loving and willing.

You looked through blurry eyes over at the sacks. She was ready to give up her whole life for you. Ambessa could be ruthless, she was strong. She was formidable in all the way Noxus loved. You weren’t. She could thrive here, she had no reason to leave. And she was giving it all up for you.

“ t-thank y–”

She didn’t allow you to finish your sob filled statement before she was by your side again, squeezing you.

“ shh…its ok.” She whispered.

“ I would do anything for you. You’re my people, you’re my home. I’m not leaving anything behind, so long as I haven’t left you.”

Of course she knew what was coursing through your mind, she always did. You sobbed into her, the tears creating small puddles on her shirt. But she couldn’t bother with that. All she could think about was you. And Ambessa hated to see you cry, maybe that's always why she tucked you so close when you were like this.

“ I love you too, darling.”

Even through tears, you wished for her.

“ Kiss me…please.”

She pulled back, that small smile she always offered you when you were upset adorned her face.

“ so polite.” She whispered before she captured your lips. You practically melted in her at the act, her strong arms so easy to fall into. Ambessa always kissed you like you were fragile, like your lips were a glass that could never be dropped. It used to make you desperate, needy for more. But now all you could do was push back with equal care. Even if Ambessa was strong to everyone else, in your eyes she was fragile too. You couldn’t imagine hurting her, your sweet girl. So softly and so lovingly, you both shared a passionate embrace.

The tears slowly subsided as she pulled away. She kissed your tear stained cheeks, trailing her kisses from your neck to your collarbone. You whimpered only the slightest as she bit at the skin, licking gently over it. She nuzzled her head into your neck and for a moment you thought she was inhaling the very essence from you.

“ so beautiful…” she whispered.

“ y-you’re beautiful too…”

She laughed softly into your skin, kissing wherever your skin allowed room. You didn’t protest when she tugged at the hem of your shirt, her brown fingers running over your stomach. You shut your eyes, lost in the feeling of her consuming you. Flickers of that familiar desire sparked in your belly. Flashes of memories flooded your head. Her eyes, unyielding and sincere, staring into yours as she feasted between your legs.

You clenched your thighs at the thought, breath uneven as she continued. You felt the trace of her smile as she kissed your stomach, your shirt now long gone and chest exposed.

“ Remembering something?”

You huffed a nervous laugh, “ Just…continue.”

“ Where’s my please? What happened to my polite girl?”

The blush on your face was hot enough to burn down the abandoned building and everything in it. And yet somehow all it managed to do was make your lover smile wider, waiting for your response. You lifted your hips just the slightest at the feeling of her fingers teasing your waistband.

“ please bessa, please…”

The desperation in your voice made her drop any sense of composure either of you thought she might’ve had. Suddenly she looked as desperate as you, nodding before she began to pull down your pants. But then your breath hitched and you caught her hand with yours. Instantly she stopped, looking up at you.

“ What if they come while…we’re…you know? Shouldn’t we be ready?”

Maybe this is when you should’ve noticed that crease in her brow, that look on her face.

“ You’re right. I’m sorry. I got…carried away.”

You pulled her hand to your face, kissing it gently.

“ It’s ok,” You giggled slightly. “ I think we both got carried away.”

You leaned forward to grab her face with both your hands, hating the sullen look on her face. She slumped into your hands, accepting the quick kisses to the corners of her mouth.

“ Plus, we’ll have plenty of time for this in Piltover.”

“ Right…”

You stared at her, noticing the way she refused to catch your eye. She looked so upset. Ambessa was never one to mop about such things, and yet she looked so defeated in front of you.

“ look at me,” You whispered. Her hazel eyes drifted to yours but they still seemed so heavy. “ what’s wrong?”

Her mouth opened, as if she was on the cusp of saying something. You even felt the sudden clench of her fist against your leg. You searched her face as if you’d find what she was holding back, as if you’d unearth her worries. But instead she suddenly retracted from your hands, her fist relaxing.

“ I’m ok.”

Wordlessly she pulled your pants back over your hips, ignoring your stare as she helped put your shirt back on.

“ bessa—”

“ Here, darling. They’ll be here soon and it’ll be a long journey.”

You looked at the water bottle that you’d placed down not too long ago. You wanted to ask her what troubled her again but you decided against it. She’d tell you when she was ready. She always did. So without hesitation you took the bottle from her again, being sure to finish it. But unfortunately, unlike last time she didn’t ease up. Instead she took the bottle from you, tossing it into a random dark corner.

“ bessa…I feel–”

She captured you again, holding you in her arms.

“ Please understand. You’re my home…I could never let you go.”

Your arms felt heavy suddenly and yet you managed to cling to her. Even through slurred words she understood.

“ I would never leave you…”

You felt the faint drip of something wet hit your shoulder.

“ I know, sweet girl. I k-know…”

Your arms dropped, the feeling of holding them up making your body hurt. Why was your head spinning? Your fingertips felt numb, your feet quickly following. When you tried to speak again, you couldn’t. It was as if your body was too weak to do anything. Before you knew it, Ambessa was the only thing keeping your upper half upright.

When she pulled back, you looked at her face. You could see two of her, but the tears on her face were so evident.

“ I’m going to help you. I swear. Like always.”

With the last bit of strength in you, you looked to the corner where the empty water bottle lay. Ambessa watched as you hazily looked back at her, a deep frown on your face. One of the last things you could hear were the faint footsteps of someone else. And the last thing you saw was a Noxian soldier lifting you up, the faintest command from Ambessa of ‘be gentle with her’ being heard.

No. You thought. Not her.

[rafessweetgirl]

secrets

summary: you’re rafe's girlfriend, but he fucked up and now he needs you to be a little more than just that.

warnings: angst, nothing else fr

a/n: based on diary by alicia keys!! i haven't heard this song in years but when i listened to it a couple weeks ago i alr had a story. very strongly recommend listening to it while reading. (that's fr how i wrote it.) i promise ill get pt 2 of everything you wanted out eventually. love yall <3

i wont tell...your secrets 

you woke up from your spot on the couch to the front door busting open. who would come barging in this early in the morning? only one person came to mind. “rafe?” you sat up, hands bracing against the cushion under you to help you stand up. you walk over towards the front slamming into him. he’s been gone since yesterday morning and he looks rough, like he’s been in a fight. except that is exactly what happened. you reach for his face, but he flinches away. “hey, hey what’s wrong? where were you?”

he shakes his head. “nothin’ it’s fine. i’m fine.” 

he doesn’t look fine, not even close. “rafe, come on, you look hurt, let me help.”

he steps away from you. “i don’t need your help but…” his worried eyes meet yours. “baby i-i did something.”

——

rafes silence speaks volumes. he hasn’t uttered a word since he spoke that cryptic sentence. “you have to tell me eventually, baby.”

baby. he loves when you call him that. it softens the hardness embedded in him. it makes him feel better, worthy of your love that he doesn’t deserve anymore. not after what he did.

“you have to swear you wont tell a fucking soul.” 

your secrets...are safe with me

“it wasn’t john b.” that’s what rafe said. over and over again, like a broken record. that it wasn’t john meaning that it was someone else. what that meant you didn’t know. you assumed it meant that john b didn’t do the something bad your boyfriend mentioned, but instead rafe himself.

“what do you mean? what wasn’t john b?”

“i didn’t mean to, i swear….it wasn’t on purpose.” he turns to you, his knees bumping yours. he grabs your hands squeezing them, using you to relieve his stress. “you have to understand, i was just trying to protect ward.” he starts to try and calm himself. “yeah, i did it for him. wasn't tryna hurt her.”

“i can’t understand what you wont tell me, rafe.” there were so many things that he could’ve done. doing them in wards defense was….odd, to say the least. but about a million scenarios ran through your mind, his hands doing nothing to soothe either of you. “you can tell me anything.”

i will keep....your secrets 

you stare at rafe. you physically can’t move. he was the one who killed peterkin. not john b, like the island had believed. your own boyfriend, your sweet, sweet rafe. he said he did it for ward because “she was gonna kill him, i swear.” but why? 

ward didn’t really respect his son and probably didn’t even love him. and rafe hated him for that. all his life, he treated rafe as less than. so why, when it came down to it, would rafe choose ward?

“i love him, i really do, baby.”

“he doesn’t feel the same, rafe!” he shoots up suddenly, making you flinch.

“shut up! he does, he just has a hard time showing it. but i-“ he accentuates the "i" with a finger to his own chest, “i saved him. and now he’ll actually see me as his son, not just some kid he gave his dna to. but i lose that if i go to jail. so you can’t say a fucking word.”

your heartbeat begins to speed up. he’s putting the burden of his actions on you. you had nothing to do with it but if you agree to stay quiet about the truth, you might as well have pulled the trigger yourself. but you can’t betray rafe. you love him and everyone else in his life has hurt or betrayed him in one way or another. you can’t be added to the list.

tears begin to pool in your eyes. a few fall as you look down towards the floor. “i won’t.” 

just think of me as the pages in your diary

his personal diary. whenever shit goes left he'll turn to you, confide in you. he'll open you up, pick up the pen and write down every little secret. when he's done he'll close your pages and make you swear not to tell a soul. then he'll lock you up, guaranteeing the safety of his secrets. 

lovely divider by @kimjiho1

i wanna start a tag list, lmk if you want added! 💞

[sunrisecaminus]

You can’t imagine the excitement when I saw that the requests are open!

Can I ask for a military Air Force reader who’s fighter jet is the same as starscream (f-16) and when one day when reader is doing some training they see another fighter jet zooming beside them as the don’t know what or where this unauthorized and unidentified aircraft that is flying beside them and making loops midair, that is when one day the reader crashes and mistakes starscream vehicle mode as their own so when reader tried to get inside they are surprised as the are met with a lanky alien fighter jet, that is when the start getting closer as they comfort one another as they share the same burden of (relatively) abusive superiors (reader doesn’t know that starscream deserves it)

I love fumblescream sm 🫶✨

Message - Bro, this is so funny. Starscream is such a little menace. I cannot stand him...but also I want to be his friend for real! Also I just realized you wanted the reader to fly in him and not find him in the sky. My bad sorry, but hopefully how they met is still good and intense. That was my bad.

Starscream x Airforce Pilot Reader

Summary - Starscream manipulates you in to pitying him and to keep you...hopefully Starscream doesn't get attached to you and stays on the coarse of using you as bait in the future.

Warnings - None

You kept your jet well kept. Man, was it a beaut! The love you had for your jet was like someone with their car. Flying whenever you can was everything you could ask for. It was your turn to fly around Jasper and than fly back to the Air Force base. Understanding that you are in an F-16, this was a fighter jet. If anything happened while flying, you were there to defend the sky and the people below you. Knowing you have power in the sky, helps you feel safe and lets you swirl around the clouds with ease. Jasper was a small town, so for you, it was just a little spec on the ground. You yourself lived in the base, so you never really visited Jasper. It was known to be nice and quiet, that being said, you were told it has gotten a bit more important around this time of year. Your Sargent told you that there has been spotting of extra terrestrials and to keep your eyes out on what is going on. One of the government agents has been going around and telling pilots not to scout in Jasper, stating it was just a waste of time and to look at other places, but none of your buddies listened because he didn't have the authority over y'all. It did scare you a bit, knowing that the government had you all sign contracts that if you see anything peculiar, just report your findings and never talk about it outside your group.

U-turning to go back to base, you feel like something else was in the air with you. Your jet scans that an object was above you and near your aircraft, so you start to turn a different direction and look up. Not only do you see a giant shadow in the clouds, but it looked like a jet. Immediately you go in defense mode, knowing that none of your pilot friends are out here with you…unless they took off without reporting. You grab the radio and turn it on to connect to the plane above you.

"This is Dodger speaking, you are in Jasper Airforce Skies. State your name and purpose soldier." You wanted to be calm about it, not wanting to yell at them yet. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, that is what it usually is anyway. The aircraft above you lowers and flies to the left of your jet. It was the exact same model as yours, but had weird red and grey colors. This must be a private owned jet, but who would fly this close at such dangerous speeds. You talk into the radio again. "I will not repeat myself. You are in territory of the military and I need your name and badge citizen!" This couldn't be anyone you are friends with. Every jet color is different and you haven't seen those types of designs before. The F-16 swirls around your aircraft and nose dives to the ground. You panic, thinking the person lost control of their jet and you nose dive with them. Before you could say anything, they twirl around and go back to flying straight, landing in the forest. All you could think of is them landing in one of the trees, so you land in the plains area, trying to run for the trees as fast as you can. Yes, they maybe stupid, but that doesn't matter if they are severely injured.

Running over, you see a giant shadowy figure in the forest, one that was as tall as the trees. You stop in your tracks and look up at the big creature that was before you. The jet seemed to have transformed into some kind of alien. Only reason you knew it was the jet was because of the colors and the wings that the creature had…oh no you were talking to the things that they warned you about in the base. The alien could tell you were terrified and sees that you were going to book it back to your jet. He grabs onto your body and lifts you up with ease, making you feel like it was over for you. "Hey! Put me down! I'm sorry I was only doing my job!" This was the only thing you could scream, what if it didn't even understand? This alien was not like the media ever said, it wasn't even a UFO.

Starscream looks at your pathetic form. Dang it, he got caught by a human…well he could just kill them if it wasn't for the interesting jet it was flying. He could see that is was the exact same frame type he had which intrigued him about what you were doing up there. Only pilots who fly those are told to fight anything dangerous in the sky…at least…that is how he was taught. He turns you to face him and smirks. "Now, what is a human like you doing up in the air where they don't belong? Don't you humans die from not breathing in your air?" From how he is speaking to you, it seems he knows your language well and so you spoke up a bit better. "We have invented ways to travel outside our comfort zones, but I should be the one to ask questions! My boss would kill me if he knew I didn't get any info out of you guys on why you are here!" This seems to put Starscream a bit on edge. Oh? Humans also seem to have a terrible culture on horrible masters. His smirk falters and gives you a bit of a scowl. "Really? Well I guess this will get complicated then, because my lord would want me to kill you."

This seems to terrify you and it made you start to struggle in his claws. "Well please don't! You could just lie and say you did! I promise not to tell!" He chuckles at you begging for mercy. It was quite nice being on the other end, but he knew you would tell someone. Starscream knows where you are coming from, understanding that he has been in the same position you are in now and sits. "Why don't you lie then? You could just say I wasn't here and you went home." You nervously look down at the ground. That was going to be an issue from how the military works, but you didn't know how to explain that to this giant thing. "I record all my adventures to give to my boss. Otherwise I would be demoted for leaving some crucial details that could "cost lives". Your sergeant sucked, really he did. It felt like he was the reason you couldn't be promoted anytime soon and it was pissing you off. The angry face you gave made Starscream realize he just met a human version of himself. Well, kind of. honestly he didn't notice any revenge or assassination vibes on you, so he was going to keep his intentions on the down low. "I feel the same way! Sometimes I wish he could just see how much I do for him. All I want for him to say how good I do!" You felt bad for him after he explains his situation. What you didn't know was that he was not telling you the full story, but it didn't matter. You felt pity for this out of world creature and it made you realize you just made friends with someone no one would believe you met. You look up at him and have your hand support your head a little to lean forward. "Sorry to hear about that, sir. Don't you just wish you could never see them again? I hate when they make your life a living hell." Starscream had so many evil thoughts in his head right now, but again, he felt like he couldn't just tell this random human everything he wants to do to Megatron. Honestly you seemed like a good pet to have around to talk to.

He stands back up again and looks at your jet, than back at you. "What if I told you…that I could give you everything you ever wanted and not have to work again?" He made it seem like it was so easy, so you laugh in his face on such a question. You see that he was not joking, which made you shut up. "You can't be serious? I mean, I wish…but why would you do that for someone like me? I am not that important." Starscream will never admit how much that broke his spark. It was something he felt long ago before he got the power he has now…and it made him realize even if you said no, you were now going to be his little pet for now on. This was going to be very interesting, hopefully Airachnid doesn't find out or he would be screwed.

[heroesrest64]

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter 7: Time Slip

Chapter summary: You fall out of time and meet a couple of very familiar people

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter under the cut :)

“What..?” You mumble, moving to stand up and rubbing your sore back as you turn in a slow circle. Every which way you look is just more forest.

“Another dream?” You wonder, beginning to walk through the forest. You can hear bird song nearby, and feel the warmth of the sun through the speckled treetops. It all feels too realistic to be a dream. Everything down to the smell of rain, the sound of your feet sloshing through the mud, the squishy, slippery feeling as you continue to trek through the soaked forest.

The whole situation comes to a head when you spot a column of smoke in the distance. Like an idiot, you decide to follow it.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit to get to the source of the smoke, but when you do, you find an empty camp and feel cold steel press into the sensetive flesh of your neck.

“Who are you, and what is your purpose here.” A voice hisses against the shell of your ear, and you shiver. It takes every nerve that you possess in your body to not flinch away from the voice and subsequently into the fucking sword pressed against your neck.

“I-I really don’t know. One second I was climbing down from my attic, the next I was here. Please, you have to believe me.” Your voice comes out shaky, and you can feel tears burn at the corners of your eyes. The sword shifts minutely, but you’re too scared to tell if it’s being lowered or drawing closer.

“Lower your sword, Captain. They’re not Yiga.” A new voice calls out, and you feel relief douse you like a bucket of cold water as the sword drops from your neck. You stumble forward, away from the danger lurking behind you and take in great, heaving breaths.

After gathering yourself, you whip around, eyes sharp as they zero in on your assailant. He’s dressed in armor, with a long scarf thrown over his neck like a cape. Your eyes track the sword that he tucks away before shifting to the side at a slight movement there- another man, this one dressed more lightly, although he’s no less menacing.

“Who the fuck just draws a sword on a person?! That’s so freaking rude! What the fuck, man!” You shout, berating the blonde man in front of you now that you know your life isn’t in mortal peril. What can you say, you’re in a very stressful situation, and you feel like you need to take your anger out on someone.

“I-I’m sorry. Its been a stressful couple weeks, and we didn’t know if you were an enemy or not.” The man apologizes, hands raised defensively.

“Then why didn’t you just ask like a normal person! Ugh!”

“Look, we’re sorry, okay? Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?” The other man asks, stepping forward as if to shield his friend from any further admonishments. You stare him down for a second before your eyes catch on something blue and orange dangling from his hip.

That’s-

That’s Wilds tablet. How does this man have it?!

Your head throbs, confusion and anxiety clouding your judgement, and you clutch at your head, trying to ease the splitting headache trying to take over.

“Ugh… Just- just give me a minute. I need to think.” You mumble, waving the two men off. They share a concerned look before returning to their camp. It’s way too big to be for just the two of them. It looks like there’s about nine clusters of belongings, strewn about like a tornado tore through the camp. You turn your gaze back to the two men, who are now standing over the fire and talking in low murmurs while occasionally throwing you cautious looks.

“You guys have more companions?” You ask, finally feeling collected enough to engage with the men.

“Ah, yeah. A few.” The man wielding Wild’s tablet shrugs. Not very informative, but he must still be a little suspicious.

“I see. May I know your name?” You ask, moving to sit on one of the logs surrounding the campfire. Both men share another look before taking their own seats.

“You can call me Wild, and this is Warriors.” Wild introduces. Your head feels like it’s splitting in two. It almost feels like you’re going to throw up, too. Not a good combo.

“Ah… It’s nice to meet you.”

You can barely wrap your head around the fact that these two living, breathing men share their names with two of your ghosts before you hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

Your head swivels to the heavy thudding sounds, a hulking figure shadowed by the thicket of trees slowly approaching. Wild and Warriors don’t seem too concerned, so you aren’t, either, but you’re still curious.

From the forest steps a heavily armored man, his chest plate gleaming in the sunlight, the same color as his golden hair. He has markings on his face, and a scar mangling his right eye all the way down to his cheek. His working eye, however, is a beautiful cerulean that you find yourself getting lost in.

That is, until it widens, and the man moves forward, mouth parting to say something-

Only for the men around you to suddenly disappear. You gasp, whipping your head around, wondering how they could’ve just disappeared like that only to find an empty forest path. Upon closer inspection, the tree stumps surrounding you are set up in a similar formation to the camp you were just standing in, but they’re old and rotted through. There’s no upturned dirt, and it looks like it hasn’t rained in days. Everything is wrong and you can feel bile rising in your throat that you quickly choke back.

“What… happened…” You pant, blearily looking around like an explanation might be waiting for you on a silver platter. No such luck.

Instead, the sound of a crow crying draws your attention, and you look up to find Jimmy nestled in a tree overhead.

“Boy am I glad to see you, Jimmy. Think you could guide me back home?” You ask, and the crow clicks happily, flying off ahead of you.

The path you take is oddly familiar. Is it the same one you took to get to the campsite? Was all of that just… a really convincing dream? You sigh, running a hand through your hair, only to feel a slight sting at your neck. You glance down, fingers coming up to feel the- the cut on your neck. You pull your hand back to find your fingertips stained with blood.

~~

“Time. Was that you? Did you…” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say. Are you really trying to suggest a ghost pulled you into the past?

“Please, Time, I feel like I’m losing my mind. Just- please tell me so that I know I’m not going insane.” You beg, staring at the clock in your kitchen, pleading for it to skip two minutes and confirm that you’re not going crazy.

Nothing happens. You feel hot, angry tears burn at your eyes, a scowl beginning to form on your face.

“Fine! That’s- fine.” You close your eyes, taking in a deep, shaky breath. You might just be hanging around ghosts too often these days. Maybe their very existence makes the mind start to rot.

You end up in your living room, one of your favorite hobbies set up on the coffee table. You aren’t getting much work done, your mind constantly drifting, but it’s better than begging ghosts for answers they don’t want to offer.

It isn’t until the lights start flickering that you realize you might have company. Glancing up from your work, you squint up at the shuddering lights.

“Hey, Hyrule. Come to keep me company?” You ask, a smile quirking at your lips. the lights flicker on, and you sigh, setting aside your work.

You kind of just want to keep this interaction casual. No life altering revelations, no time shenanigans, or becoming charmed by voices down the hallway. You just want to talk to your friend normally.

“What do you guys do for fun? I can’t imagine you’re sitting around all day crocheting ghost sweaters.” You can help but laugh at the visual. Hyrule seems to laugh right along with you, the lights fluttering before eventually shuddering back to life.

“Tag!” Legend shouts from down the hall, and you whip around, not expecting him to have been listening in, much less respond to your question.

Still, though, you know he has a hard time speaking during the day in general. He probably won’t answer again.

“Tag, huh? Can we play a round, then? Or, I guess what I’m thinking would be closer to hide and seek.” You laugh, standing up and stretching a little. The lights flicker curiously, so you explain.

“I’ll be the seeker, and whichever ghosts want to join will hide in a room. Once a minute, you use your powers for a second until I can find you. Also, you can’t do something small like turning the light on and off once. It has to be at least a little noticeable.” You command, pointing vaguely into the room. You feel like you point directly at where Wild is quietly trying to puzzle out how to make the smallest grain of salt shift.

You get a round of agreements. It looks like Hyrule, Wild, Wind, Four and Legend are all willing to play, and you grin, deciding to close your eyes for the theatrics of it, and begin counting down from thirty.

Wild is the first to be found. Unfortunately, his attempts to make his power ‘noticeable’ are a bit too effective, and you call him out immediately. He throws a fit by flinging a plastic cup onto the floor.

“It’s not my fault you moved the salt shaker halfway across the table! Now pick that cup up and put it in the sink!”

Wind is next. His attempts to hide in your shower are valiant, but you took a shower in the morning, and the amount of water in the tub was suspicious, if not outright telling.

Legend is hiding in the cellar, apparently thinking you wouldn’t be brave enough to face the spider infested room despite his taunting calls. Unfortunately for him, you’re competitive, potential ‘skulltulas’ as he’d called them be damned.

Hyrule actually pulled a fast one on you, hiding outside and occasionally turning the lights on. The first couple times you saw it, you assumed a wild animal was maybe rummaging through your garbage, but when you couldn’t find flickering lights anywhere else in your house, you braved the elements and succeeded in finding another of your ghostly friends.

Lastly was Four. He was surprisingly hard to track down, but you eventually felt a brush of cold coming from somewhere in your room, and some tracking led you to your closet, where a blast of cold air met you. He was super smug about his win, if the circling chill filling your living room after the game was anything to go by.

You end up watching an anime for the rest of the night, and you barely notice when you fall asleep on the couch.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Pokemon | Birthday Headcannons (P2)

March 19th has rolled around once again being i am now once again here. Witting more birthday headcannons to fill the bottomless pit of my soul. Originally i was going to write Danganrompa ones but then remembered the fandom is basically dead just like all of my loved characters... Then i thought JoJo's, then MHA, Then KNY, Then Horror and many many other fandom i'm in and eventually decided to finish what i started. POKEMON! Scarlet and Violet edition! I'm gonna have to write a hundred of these ain't i...

WARNINGS: None unless you're allergic to fluff

Characters: Arven, Carmine, Drayton, Giacomo, Grusha, Kieran

❤️🥪Arven🥪❤️

When it comes to your birthday, Arven has absolutely zero plan. Not because he doesn’t have any ideas! Man has many ideas… too many to keep track of.

Arven has so many things he thinks you’ll enjoy, or places he wants to show you that his brain is about a thousand steps ahead of him, and the day before he just crashes out and wings everything on the day.

To him, this is your day, has nothing to do with him, it is your time to feel as happy as possible! Even without a plan our sandwich professional is going to work his ass off to make sure your smile never fades.

He may actually cry if it does.

In the morning, expect breakfast in bed. Equipped with all of your Pokemon already fed exactly how they like it. He takes notes. Any chores need to be done, Arven’s already done them. If you even attempt to get up before you have finished your breakfast, he will physically stand in the doorway with the most stern puppy dog eyes you will ever see on a human being. 

Arven even put extra effort in to make it look pretty, please enjoy it ;-; 

As for the actual day starting, he is essentially going to follow you around the entire time. If you want to stay in and watch movies, every blanket is there, PILLOW FORT! Shiny hunting may not be in his skill set but he will damn well try! Arven is more than happy to join you in some Pokemon battles, trainer or wild he is your player 2. 

No you cannot convince him to play video games with you. Arven could watch you all day though so if you want to ramble about your favourite game, his imaginary tail is eagerly wagging behind him while you talk.

Best part of the day, Lunch and Dinner. He goes ALL OUT! Anything you want to eat, it's yours, nothing is off the table, no matter how weird or exquisite it is. Hell you could ask him for just a bowl of cheesy nachos and he will make the greatest bowl of cheesy nachos the world will ever see.

He is so smitten with you already, so seeing your smile enjoying his food this time just feels so special to him. Arven put so much effort into this and to know you're happy with it makes his heart swell with love.

When it comes to gifts, he gives you 2. One he bought, most likely an item of clothing you had your eye on but couldn’t quite get yet. And the second is a handmade gift. He didn’t have help at all, don’t ask Nemona she didn’t help, Nemona and Arven didn’t work together in peace, that didn’t happen! YOU SAW NOTHING! Also ignore the Mabostiff hair.

🧡🪩Carmine🪩🧡

Our excitable queen will make this day so special for you. Carmine will ask a few days prior about previous birthdays you’ve had and no matter what you tell her, she is now DEAD SET on making this the best one! 

You will be waking up at the crack of dawn. She did not wake you up, on purpose. But her Aggressive shuffling of things in the next room can cause some noise.

Remember those Kimonos Carmine gave you during the festival? Well turns out she has more, the shuffling was her digging them out from her hiding spot. Handmade by her and her Grandma. Custom made just for you, and hers matches, just with small differences to fit your personalities! 

Unlike Arven, Carmine has planned a day ahead although she will ask about everything before actually doing them. As excitable as she can be, your comfort is a top priority for her so if you say no to something she planned, consider it crossed off her list of fun things.

Carmine will however take you to the Shrine at some point towards the end of the day. Most likely around Sunset where she will tell you some of the Village's oldest tales and secrets. This is also where she gives you a gift. A Wood carving of your Pokemon. She had it made by an old friend of hers, hiding the carving here so no matter what you wouldn’t find it ahead of the day.

She will give you sneaky gifts as well though, just not in the traditional sense. You will suddenly find your item bag restocked with a bunch of different poke balls. Your bag now has a fluffy pom pom on it, when did that get there. Your worn down shoes suddenly look brand new. When did your hat get fixed?

This is also the only time you can convince Carmine to come to Paldea with you that doesn’t involve Area Zero or School. So take the chance whilst you can.

💜💤Drayton💤💜

Oh boy, Drayton our beloved. This day is going to be… Unique 

One of two situations will happen, though neither start until he wakes up around 1pm. 

Situation 1) Colgate has a day full of battles and adventures just waiting for you! Starting the day off with a nice pokemon battle between you. Followed by a full catching lap of each area within the Terrarium. He even enhanced his shiny hunting skills just for you! Drayton will still scare them away though, but he saw it this time!

Randomly throughout the day he will just pull you into spontaneous hugs, which is something he does anyway but these are different. Toothpaste wants you to know how much he loves you so will pamper you the entire day. Every hug you face is covered in kisses from him. Drayton will open every door for you, take off his jacket for you to sit on when you stop for a picnic. In regards to physical affection, Drayton towers over the others.

Drayton even packed extra pokeballs for you, well Luxury balls, he wanted these ones specifically to use on this day. Makes it feel more special to him since he never changed the ball he uses. 

Is your cheerleader. Like Arven he will follow you around when exploring the terrarium, so when you find a Pokemon you want and start up that battle. He is yelling his lungs out. Many a Rowlet was woken up. One even sat on his head at one point ruining his hair. Probably in retaliation to the squawking he was doing.

He may be a chill, go with the flow person. But today he is letting it loose, just having fun with it. All that built up energy is coming out today.

Situation 2) Lazy day. Drayton will grab you and pull you into him, laying you on his chest so he can just wrap you up in his embrace for as long as you let him. He has a blanket set up for you and the remote within your reach, movies and tv shows set up ready for you. If the pair of you aren't near a bed or sofa to just lay down and chill, he will carry you to one of them, whichever you feel more comfortable in. 

No you are not getting up to get something. If you want something either Colgate is getting it, or one of his Pokemon are more than eager to help. Drayton won’t stop you getting up of course, you’ll just have to wiggle your way out of his steel grip first. Unless it's the bathroom, he will let go. He isn’t weird so don’t even think about it.

🖤🎶Giacomo🎶🖤

Giacomo is the same lovable DJ regardless of redemption or not. So when it comes to your birthday, he is ready! Has he written and produced multiple songs just for your birthday, yes. Will he play them randomly throughout the day to catch you off guard just to see your genuine reaction, absolutely!

He cannot cook, in fact among the star crew he is the WORST cook. Giacomo and ovens are sworn enemies, even a microwave will fight back. Best he can do is a cheese sandwich. So no special birthday food, he would have asked for help, he really would. If he remembered he actually has to ask and can’t will it into existence randomly.

You may have to call Arven in for assistance.

Giacomo may not be able to cook, but damn can he have a good time. One of the best people to spend a birthday with, he is a DJ after all, if you wanted it, he would turn the entire star base into a celebration just for you, he has the power to so after all, why not use it. If this is post redemption however, he will dial it back ten fold it will still be to your liking but less… Grand?

If parties aren't your thing, no worries! He has an entire day long music playlist set up to play on speakers throughout the rooms. When a really good song comes on, he’ll stop whatever he was doing to pull you into a dance with him, goofy or romantic he will have fun with it.

When it comes to gifts he is an ask and you shall receive kind of guy. He doesn’t spend money throughout the year on himself, he wears the same outfits basically every week, it's a system. The only time he spends money is on other people. So he has the money to spare. 

Giacomo will straight up just give you his card directly when you can’t decide on something. The biggest toothy grin on his face as he ushers you to enjoy your special day.

Orders in for dinner. Doesn’t matter when or what it is. So long as he doesn't have to call Arven again. 

Surprisingly enough this is one of the few times he actually lets go of things, no team star, no school, no DJ work, nothing. Just you and your birthday are his priorities today.

The other leaders will show up throughout the day to give you a gift tho. You’re part of the family now.

🩵❄️Grusha❄️🩵

SNOW CABIN

With Grusha, your birthday is a multiple day event. 

For the next 3 days, he has a cozy cabin booked for just the two of you to spend time together. You know those really cozy winter cabins you see in those cheesy Christmas movies? One of those.

Grusha will make sure this time is fun for you, it's one of the few times you will see a childish side of him surface. Snowball fights are a must, your birthday is the only time you can get away with chucking a snowball at him and not start an all out turf war with his Pokemon and yours.

Any and all Gym challenges are cast aside, The gym can do without him for a few days, this is your birthday after all. The gym can take a few days off.

The morning is the only time he will be outside the cabin, so this is when he will take you ice skating, build a snowman with you and just genuinely enjoy the snow with you. Since he's around Snow almost all the time, he tends to forget just how much fun it can be.

Once inside though, that's when the Grusha you know will show. The soft romantic side of him showing in full force. Sat by the fire, curled up in eachothers embrace, just living in the moment, enjoying the natural conversations that come. No movie or TV show, no rotom phones, just a genuine conversation. 

Even if what you are talking about is a topic you both have talked about before, doesn’t matter. As long as you are smiling and enjoying your birthday trip, he is satisfied.

💜🪻Kieran🪻💜

You mean the world to Kieran, he owes you life times of debt. To him you are his anchor, his reason to keep going. So when it comes to your birthday, this is a day he is going to make special.

Kieran over thinks everything the day before, practically pulling his hair out when he reads through is incoherent scribbling of ideas. Carmine makes an attempt to help and it results in Kieran slumping into the corner in a defeated ball. 

Once his nerves have settled and his thoughts are consistent does he finally get an idea he likes.

For the entire day, he is going shiny hunting with you, taking you to each area helping you get as many cute colourful pokemon as you can within the hours the day gave you. And don;t worry about the Herba, he has that covered. He wasn’t the champion for nothing.

Kieran is already touchy, constantly wanting to hold your hand, today is no different. The entire time he is holding your hand and following behind you, watching you with heart eyes every time you point at a Pokemon or drag him back to the academy.

No battles today. Kieran won’t allow them on your special day. To him they mean negative things, competition. This is your day, not his, not Drayton, no that random beach lady. Yours. So battles are off limits. If you want to watch a battle he is fine with that though. 

You can go one day without battling you maniacs! 

He only has his Hydrapples ball on him today, his bag is empty at the start but full by the end of the day with the amount of rocks, and things you find. He emptied it just for today. No pebble left behind! It's also totally not because he wants an excuse to go shell hunting.

Future thing: He would definitely propose on your birthday. Just saying.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm defiantly losing my touch this was so bad. Oh well, its my birthday if i want to write awful work i will! Take that society!

[themyscirah]

But look at us Luke, we're the ones left alone, holding some rich monster's pain. All of existence, built on his violence. All of space-time, humming to life with a single inviolate rule. Give the hero something to punch.

[goldentigerfestival]

Using this as an audio reference for the posts I'm making, but to summarize:

Yuri starts out mad.

Yuri tries to calm himself down with a deep breath to ask for details instead of going through it angry.

Flynn doesn't say "like a good knight" in the sense of putting himself down. He simply says "as a knight" (the tl here doesn't use that, but with that included it's basically along the lines of "even though I had doubts, as a knight, I was determined to follow my orders").

Once Yuri has answers he calms down significantly.

Yuri uses " 'ttaku", which is a shortened down version of "mattaku" (Yuri often shortens words and speaks very casually), which in this particular situation basically would mean "geez", or "good grief". In this manner, it's expressive of exasperation/frustration/etc.

Yuri never mentions that "Flynn told him what to do" like the dub does (because in fact Flynn did not ever tell Yuri what to do. He only gave Sodia and his other knights orders. He expressed his own desire to take responsibility, but never told Yuri and his friends what to do).

At this point you can tell the anger has gone out of him and that he's calmed down, now that Flynn is approaching this with admission and responsibility.

Sodia is asking that Flynn returns as soon as possible (I believe this was a general translation error).

Flynn's thank you to Yuri is tonally much more heartfelt.

Yuri's response and gratefulness at Flynn coming back to himself is tonally much more heartfelt, relieved and sincere.

[arminsumi]

... hubby!Gojo with a huge breeding kink who just obsesses over you when you're ovulating and can't think about anything else but fucking a baby into your hips.

+ warnings; mdni, breeding kink, some dumbification

+ an; I literally had this idea in my drafts for a year... 😳

Maybe he's got a freaky sixth sense, maybe it's just because he's got heightened senses, or maybe there's some scientific studies to back it up; but Gojo can smell when you're ovulating. And it turns him on — of course it does. He has a bigger breeding kink than you do.

"Oh, you're ovulating." he notes after sniffing your skin... and you do a double take like he's insane. Because he is insane — you married a madman.

He pays closer attention to your cycle than you do, reminding you to mark down when you get your period, and coddling you in the days leading up to ovulation.

"Satoru, it's just an estimation." you tell him, but he's got a glow in his eyes when he sees your period tracker app telling him that today's your most fertile day — if he cums in you today, it's basically guaranteed.

He researches positions that help conception, bends and pushes you into them, and fucks you deep with his thick cock, going harder on your poor hole than he normally does — grunting more than he normally does, throbbing more than he normally does... like it just awakens something primal in him, and now he's obsessively fucking you like he has no other purpose but to breed his sweet little wife.

"Nn! Satoruuu!" you whine and paw at his torso, your walls overwhelmed by the pressure of his cock splitting you open.

"Yes babyyy?" he coos, giving you a crooked, blissed-out smile as he tilts his head.

There's sweat dripping off his abs, his pink nipples are hard, his biceps are twitching, and he's running one hand through his dampened white hair as he stills inside you for a moment.

"'s too deep! T-too big!" you moan lewdly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth.

"...aw, I know I'm just too big for ya, huh?" he coos cockily; hearing you tell him that he's 'too big' never gets old.

He's so determined to give you his baby that he tries everything to increase the chances; staying inside you for 5 minutes after shooting his load in, having you rest with a pillow under your back so your hips are raised — "Gotta help my lil' guys swim." he acts like an idiot about it, but sweetly so. Nothing excites him more than the idea of being a dad, except the idea of fathering your children.

After sex, when the two of you are cleaning up, Satoru feels over and massages your tummy with a small smile on his face. He's lost in thought, hair all messy and face tired like he's run a marathon, hopeful that this time he got you pregnant.

He'll pamper you like his queen, humming and going to the ends of the earth to get you anything you ask for. He really fawns over you when you're ovulating, and lays on the compliments thick while snuggling your neck and creeping his fingers up your thighs — pretty soon he'll sink them inside and stretch you out on them, preparing you for what he cutely calls "baby making" but is actually sweaty, nasty, kinky sex — there's a definite difference in the cute, snuggly sex and the literal breeding sessions no matter how much he plays it off.

"Satoru... my legs are still weak after this morning, give me a break, will you?"

"Aw come on, this is an innocent request... and if babymaking happens, it happens..." he mutters the last part under his breath.

"You're crazy."

But you know you're gonna fall for it after you take one look at his rock-hard, juicy pink, dummy big cock and those breeder balls.

He just beams victoriously when you hop over to him like a little bunny.

Satoru's pushes into you as deep as your pussy allows him, and then some more just to pressure your deepest spot, pinning your wrists down and whispering sultrily into your ear about how well you take him, how beautiful you look, how good it feels to fuck your fertile pussy knowing that he'll most definitely get you pregnant because his cum is perfect; thick and sticky and gooey and pungent, perfect just like he is — the cocky bastard.

When his creampies makes you cum, A-spot pressured with his pulsing tip, he grins so wide that you scold him about it.

"Stop grinning like a psychopath." you pant.

He just looks up at you, face hardly an inch away, and asks a dumb, smiley "D'you feel pregnant?" ... as if it happens so fast.

"Gee, I don't know, we should go again just to make sure — that was a joke, that was a joke! Nn! Satoru!" too late, he's flipping you over and slowly filling you up again.

And oh god Satoru loves sliding back in for round twos. The smell of sex and cum wafting up and hitting his nose just makes him plunge back into your cum-filled little hole with only one thing in mind and that is breeding you 'till you're stuffed to the max.

"Come on, y' gonna be a good wifey for me and get knocked up?" he rasps against your ear, thrusting his cock up into your sensitive spots until his creampies turn into whipped cream, frothed up and milky-white and smeared on your pussy lips.

Like the nasty boy he is (and always has been, even before marriage), Satoru forces your head down and makes you watch him fuck his dummy big cock into you.

"Yeah, watch that cock fill you up... look at all my cum leaking out..." he tuts, "... don't be so wasteful, baby... oh well, 'm gonna fuck it back into you anyways. Come on, let me in deeper — aw, what's wrong?" he coos when you claw at his meaty bicep.

"'toruuu, so deep! Y-you're so fucking deep, I can't think..."

His heart pangs when he hears you complain about being too stuffed, "Oh baby you don't need to think, just lay there and let me put a baby in your sweet pussy — gonna fuck you so dumb, the only name you'll remember is mine."

Of course, he has to get a creampie in every day. Sometimes even a few times a day. Sometimes even at 4 AM, and you swat him for being a horny idiot — but it takes five minutes to give in because you can hear the need in his voice when he whines "Please?" and starts humping against you, "I've got so much cum for you." he tells you and though it sounds so sweet in his soft, bedroom voice it's hard to take him as an innocent man, because his thick boner is grinding hard and hot between your plush lips.

You can bet you'll probably only get to sleep when the birds are chirping, 'cause your hubby's balls are too heavy and full of cum and he needs to drain himself inside you — oh, and you can also bet that afterwards he will be sleeping like a princess, clinging to you with his face snuggled into your tummy.

[poisonf0rest]

Intertidal Zone

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.

♱⋅── word count: 6.7k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, fem! masterbation, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf

art credit to @/khouxy on instagram

You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose. 

The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.

It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.

It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind. 

Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night. 

“How’s your drawing?” 

Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but. 

“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.

He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder. 

“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?” 

You hoped the together was implicit by now.

But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”

Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness. 

Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was. 

Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship. 

You’re leaning in despite yourself. 

Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away. 

You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before. 

When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”

The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him. 

But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.

He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.  

"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."

A laugh. Dry, humorless. 

His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.” 

You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"

"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."

"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.” 

Like he’s always fucking starving.

Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”

You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.

“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"

Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."

You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."

"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"

The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more. 

“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.” 

Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.

“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”

His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another. 

“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”

You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.

More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you. 

The glass lays shattered against the floor. 

Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses. 

“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.” 

The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever. 

“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”

“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

“Fuck.” 

You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”

You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you. 

By the third time, you know something is wrong. 

It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long. 

But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues. 

So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel. 

His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again— 

It’s the cold that wakes you up. 

Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs. 

“Rafayel?”

A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand. 

“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console. 

He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.

Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.

"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.

Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."

The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.

Yet again, he stops you halfway.

“Do you want to go back to your room first?”

At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point. 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”

“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”

“Cutie…”

“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”

Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.

Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”

“What kind of promise?”

A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”

There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true. 

So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”

Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true. 

Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching. 

You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.  

Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”

Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.

Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets. 

You need him. 

Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.

The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire. 

And then the room is all too hot once again. 

Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated. 

A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing. 

Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.

You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.

How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.

And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.

Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”

Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—

Without him.

A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.

You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"

The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs. 

There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains. 

You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition. 

It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it. 

Shit. This is Rafayel’s room. 

You must be trying to kill him.

Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.

Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.

The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.

Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart. 

It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.

Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.

He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.

But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul. 

It’s not fair.

No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.

Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.

Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left? 

Shit. He’s hard.

“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?” 

The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites. 

The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide. 

Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”

The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear. 

Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.

As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.

A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you. 

Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him. 

You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.

The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.

But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.

Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.

There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.

It's the last breath you take.

An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here?” 

The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs. 

Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.

You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”

Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again. 

You can feel the cloth slipping.

But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.

It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.

So you bite him. 

“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”

Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.

"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat. 

“Or was that intentional?”

The look in his eyes is feral. 

There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper. 

The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again. 

“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”

He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin. 

“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”

Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours. 

Oh.

A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.

Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—

“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."

A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.

"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."

Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess. 

He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you. 

“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”

He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”

Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit. 

Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk. 

“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”

Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.

Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again. 

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—

The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.

“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whiping his chin as he goes to decline the call.

But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard who tried to take Rafayel from you tonight. 

“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”

Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept. 

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back. 

His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm.

Ripping his shirt’s buttons off, you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man. 

“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses. 

No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again. 

You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest. 

And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more. 

Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”

“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”

Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running. 

Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.

“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”

“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."

He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.

“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”

“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”

“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”

At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you. 

You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in. 

His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots. 

Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.

Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.

It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.

But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.

Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.

He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.

"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.

But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.

"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."

He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.

Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.

"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there. 

It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.

Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.

It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips. 

And that alone is enough.

Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still. 

"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."

You're cumming.

He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears. 

Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies. 

As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods. 

God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun. 

The one who's still kneeling before you. 

The one who you love. 

"Maximum voicemail length reached, recording sent."

♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.

Oh the things I’d give to hear Raf sing~

[shotmrmiller]

wait wait because imagine being a normal OF creator or a cam girl, just a small name nobody who does it for the sole purpose of getting through college. you keep your face out of everything, nothing in the background of any video of yours is personal, like once you get your degree this entire account is getting deleted and it'll be a thing of the past. (not that you're ashamed or anything. we respect sex workers of all kinds here)

and you plan on doing a different kind of video: one of you fucking yourself with a new, much bigger toy. usually you keep to the rabbits and bullets but following your friends advice, you fucking yourself on a dildo wouldn't be terrible.

plus you need it, sweetheart. when was the last time you even had a date?

bitch. (affectionately)

and as soon as you walk into your usual sex store, you double take. there is no, NO, way that is pornstar!ghost's dick you've just spotted as a dildo.

he's been your favorite pornstar long before you even started this side hustle. who in their right mind can resist that beast of a man with the mask and the tattoos and the heaving thing that's between his legs--

you take it home immediately.

it's almost sad how stupid you fuck yourself on it, cunt split open and dripping onto the floorboard for the internet to see but in that moment, you don't give a fuck.

you don't remember how many times you come that night nor how many viewers you had watching your puffy lips swallow "ghost's" cock whole, but come morning, you notice your bank account and it is padded.

PADDED.

one particular tipper was incredibly generous and they even left a message.

i'd love to see you do that on the real thing.

yeah, me too.

(whoever that is becomes a loyal follower who tips regularly.)

*screaming at the thought of simon getting himself off at your video. hasn't come that hard in months and that says a lot since he's yknow, a pornstar.*

[gojoscinnamonroll]

mdni under the cut •

best friend! sukuna who sneaks into your room through your window uninvited as you’re watching some random comedy show in the middle of the night to “hang out”.

(well.. actually, he isn’t your best friend. he’s really your boyfriend, but your parents don’t approve of your relationship with him, so you have to keep things secret.)

best friend! sukuna who scares you by slamming your window open and jumping in with a “what’s up idiot” as you jolted in your bed and gave him a piercing glare.

“sukuna! what on earth are you doing!!” exasperating and clutching your chest as if you were about to have a heart attack. “if my parents hear or see you here, its game over for the both of us.”

best friend! sukuna who honestly does not care because you’re his girlfriend so he will simply come see you whenever he pleases. and in this time of the night, he needs you right now. “oh nothing too crazy” he looks at his nails with a teasing smirk, “just wanted to see how my little brat is doing that’s all.” as he walks over to your plushie filled, silk, comfy bed and takes a seat.

best friend! sukuna who pretends to be interested in whatever show you’re currently watching as he slides his huge and veiny hands up your thighs and into your pajama shorts.

you began protesting, “kuna, we could be caught this isn’t a good i-“ your breath hitched as he starts rubbing circles with his thumb over your clit.

“lock the door then girl.” rolling his eyes.

best friend! sukuna who pushes your shorts to the side, revealing your pretty puffy folds to his enamored eyes and licks a long stripe down your slit, making you slightly whimper— teasing you with his tongue and middle finger until he softly grabs you by the ankles and tells you to get face down ass up for him.

best friend! sukuna who pumps his thick cock a few times before slowly pushing himself into your sopping wet cunt and letting out a low groan. he’s thrusting in and out of you being careful at first, so that your parents don’t suspect anything, but the way you were gripping around his monstrous dick had him going insane and began fucking into you deeper, teasing your g-spot.

“su- mmph fuck!” becoming cock drunk off of him, tongue lolling out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. and your sly little boyfriend — best friend knowing what exactly you like and how to make you feel good, kept thrusting all the way into you to make you moan as loud as you can on purpose then taunting you, “shhh, you wouldn’t your father to know his sweet little girl is getting her guts rearranged by the boy she’s not supposed to be messing around with, now would you?” devilish grin creeping onto his lips.

best friend! sukuna who’s favorite thing is fucking you dumb on his cock to the point you’re seeing white and can’t conjecture a single thought, but still littering sweet praises in your ear such as, “you’re such a good girl, taking this dick mhm”, “fuck! you’re so tight for me.” “you feel so good gripping around me like that.”

best friend! sukuna who shoots ropes of hot cum into you just as you come undone on him still inside of you, legs beginning to shake. “oh hoho, silly girl… i’m not done with you just yet.” laying you down on your back to stuff his mess back into you with his still hardened length.

best friend! sukuna who loves fucking you full of his seed as he looks into your eyes while he’s on top and cupping your cheeks as lewd noises come from beneath you both.

best friend! sukuna who milks you of everything you got, on the brink of crying from overstimulation and how hard you were about to orgasm. “c- i’m gonna cummmm ‘kuna!”

best friend! sukuna who licks the shell of your ear and leave open mouthed kisses on your jaw as he tells you to let go and cum all over his cock like the filthy slut good girl that you are.

best friend! sukuna who cleans you up with a towel he got from your closet and leaves sweet, loving kisses on your temples as you two cuddle and fall asleep together in each other’s arms in your bed.

best friend! sukuna who wakes up at 6am to leave before your parents wake up and gives you a goodbye/good morning kiss before he exits through your window.

best friend! sukuna and you who thought you two were slick and pretty sure that your parents wouldn’t suspect anything ever happened the previous night.

until you walk into the kitchen for breakfast to your parents asking what all the noise was coming from your room last night and asking where the marks on your neck came from.

oops…

likes + reblogs appreciated <3 please don't steal/copy/modify my works!

[classyrbf]

PERSONAL TRAINER! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...just some small little nsfw headcanons about personal trainer!gojo hehehe

INFO...personal trainer!gojo x fem!reader, gojo is touchy and pervy, sex in a gym, sex in the showers, oral (f!receiving), rough sex, praise, nipple play, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

personal trainer!gojo who you have the fattest crush on. You didn’t expect your personal trainer to be the hottest guy you’ve ever laid eyes but here you are

personal trainer!gojo who claims he’s a hands on trainer, demonstrating moves and helping you adjust your position and posture

personal trainer!gojo who is right behind you as he bends you over to make you touch your toes, his large hands on your as he pushes you down further and further “You got it…there we go. Yeah, good job.” You swear you almost melted right then and there

personal trainer!gojo who begins to compliment you everytime you walk in the gym, noticing how you always have your matching set on and how he can tell the workouts are really starting to shape your body like you hoped

personal trainer!gojo who gets you all hot and bothered when he’s doing push ups shirtless, sweat dripping down his godlike body, his grunts and groans filling your head with such perverted thoughts that you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom

personal trainer!gojo who pretends like he doesn’t know he has an affect on you, purposely doing what he does just so he can see you get all flustered and riled up, he thinks it’s so cute

personal trainer!gojo who has you two do a late night workout session with only you two in the gym, you come in with your matching set and water bottle with a smile on your face, not a single thought behind those eyes on what he plans to do with you

personal trainer!gojo who makes you lay on your back and stretch your legs upward and toward your chest, his hands gripping your calf and pushing back, hovering over you as hiss at the stretch. “You can take it, I know you can.”

personal trainer!gojo who notices you look away from him, avoiding eye contact as he pushes your leg further and further, his hips pressed up right against your throbbing heat. His hands glide down to your thighs now, tossing your legs over his shoulders. He knows exactly what he’s doing

personal trainer!gojo who has you leggings ripped open minutes later with his thick cock shoved inside your pussy, pounding you into the gym floor while you cry out his name

personal trainer!gojo who’s got you bending in all types of positions, each one making your eyes roll back at the way he hits that spot deep inside you. “This is what we were practicing for, sweetheart.” His chuckle sends chills down your spine

personal trainer!gojo who has cum around his cock so many times you can’t even form words, mindlessly babbling before you’re squirting around his cock again, screaming in pleasure

personal trainer!gojo who eats pussy like a champ, slurping, licking, spitting all over it while he moans at your taste and scent. He’s got your legs pushed back all the way to your chest as his tongue expertly circles your puffy clit, taking one of his long, thick fingers to rub against your g-spot

personal trainer!gojo who even fucks you in the showers, hot water cascading down your skin, his hands mushing your face up against the wall while he fucks you like a slut but tells you how much of a good girl you are for taking him so well

personal trainer!gojo who loves your titties so much, always cupping them, squeezing them, twisting your cute perky nipples until you’re a whining mess

personal trainer!gojo who is still your personal trainer despite everything that happened between you two, allowing you to come over his house to workout instead of the gym just so he can have you all to himself and fuck you whenever he wants

personal trainer!gojo whose idea of cardio isn’t running or walking, no, he just ends up fucking you in his bed for several hours until your both dazed and drunk off of sex

personal trainer!gojo whose only plan now is to train you to take his cock until you become absolutely addicted to the way he stretches you out and makes you cum so hard

[cryptidmickle]

so what if. and hear me out. i made my own au for shadowvanilla purposes-

au details below

HELLO SO I PRESENT AMNESIAC AU

so you see, i was minding my business, drawing and looking at cookies and how everyone has their own cool aus with awesome designs and i went "well im not very good at designing but i Love putting characters in Situations"

this au is mostly focused on shadowvanilla so dont be too hopeful I'll get into the other cookies besides their little circle, im ill for gay yaoi only okay

So! motions to comic above, amnesia smilk time! let me elaborate

Pure vanilla fucked up BIG TIME, in that he maybe ventured out to beast yeast alone to try and find out more about the beasts and a way to stop them, as people with a savior complex have a habit of doing. Maybe, perhaps, also at the same time, smilk was getting the workings of his new dough body done and sensing pv was nearby decided to take the opportunity to torment him a little, yknow he cant help himself! he needs to see him

a nasty little fight and confrontation in some old structures of smilk (or at the spire) result in pv using a strange spell he spotted in the surrounding papers and documents, and .... accidentally cracks smilk's soul jam! hehe, oops!

and also sealing his memories. double oops. damn, what are you gonna do now pv?

well he cant leave confused smilk alone here, and itd honestly be best the other beasts and dark enchantress dont drag him back there in this state, so he offers a hand.

"Come with me. We can help you, I'll make sure you're okay."

a memory-less smilk is confused by this but... he's already grabbing the other cookie's hand before he realizes it. It'll probably be fine, something about this cookie... makes something in him feel okay.

taps forehead, im still working everything out of course, and i WILL be cursing all of you with sketchy stuff about it when I'm able, i need more time to figure out smilk's behaviors without the soul jam and corruption

of course I'm always of the mind that pre-corruption smilk was kind of a rat and rude but how exactly is the real question!! how bad was it before the corruption exacerbated the negative qualities of knowledge and his personality

anyways,,, feel free to ask questions!! it could help me figure this all out, if yall are interested of course,,,,,,,my,,,, handful of crk followers SNRRKS

[screampied]

how jjk men react to you being quiet in bed and trying to hide your moans

ps: love your writing and I don't know if you've done this or not but respond when you can happy new year🎊

❛ JUST A TEASE! ❜

geto, sukuna, gojo, toji, nanami. jjk men dealing with a quiet s/o who hides their moans.

warnings. fem!reader, lots of praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, hair pulling, overstim, hiding your moans, size kink, 18+

wc. 2.5k

an. happy new year !!!! and thank yew smmm.

★ NANAMI KENTO.

“everything okay?” he’d hum, and nanami’s got you riding him, two soft grasped hands latch onto your waist as you’re slowly lurching and bucking your hips against him. nanami ghosts a few fingers down your waist.

a sly teasing expression with the way he’s leaned back, his eyes trail from up to down as he sees your cute expressions. “you’re awfully quiet today, princess.”

and you were very much quiet, he raised his brows at the way you hide yourself into his neck, trying to deflect the situation by softly nibbling on his skin and he smiles to himself. 

“is the pretty baby shy to make noise?” he coos, his words were warm—full of tenderness with a tad of playfulness. you let off a soft gasp from the way he lightly grips a bit more on both sides of your waist. nanami makes you start to move your hips, bounce against him, your skin ricocheting from each thrust and you’re so full, pumped full of his girth you can’t even think clearly. “you don’t gotta hide from me. ‘s just me, hon. your moans are adorable, y’know?”

you pathetically nod, feeling yourself throb from not only his sloppy hits against you—but his words, the way he was so soft and tender with his praises. 

“i-i know,” you muttered, your arms went around him and he softly chortles, brushing his thumbs against your hips—creating a pattern-like trace of circles against your skin, giving your sweet curves all types of attention and touch. “i just don’t wanna be so loud. it’s…embarrassing.”

“embarrassing?” he repeats, and he’s still leaned back. nanami’s so pretty, blond hair slightly ruffled, a few beads of sweat run down the sides of his head as if they were in a competitive race with each other. 

he’s balls deep to where you slip out a moan from feeling his tip kiss against that spot that always gets you weak. “oh, don’t say that,” he happily sighs, there was a sparse glimpse of sparkle in his eye and he smiles. nanami lightly tilts your chin up to bring a kiss towards your lips. “you could never be embarrassing, my love. if anything, your sweet moans and whimpers are quite adorable. the way only i can make you sound like that makes me feel a certain type of way.”

“really?” you’d moan, squeezing your glossed lips together. 

“really, princess.” he reassures you, your entrance felt as if it was nearly at its limit, nanami’s cock stretched and stretched against you as you felt him throb—giving him a subtle glance. you could spot his sharp jawline, and the perfect way of how it clenched and tightened. you made him so aroused, for a brief moment he stared away before pulling you towards his chest. 

you choke out a whimper, pressure building up inside of you, how filthy it was at the way his tip french-kissed your g-spot, a sloppy smooch with the head of it — you’re spasming, you’re stupid. 

“k-kento, ‘m gonna cum...” you’d gasp.

“can’t hear you pretty girl,” he groans, peppering a few kisses near your face. “i wanna hear you. speak up, wanna hear that voice talk to me nice.”

once you end up creaming down his shaft for a second time. you’re shaking, a mess and he has to hold you in his arms. a warm smile on his lips as your body lifelessly rocked against him.

not exactly moving your hips anymore—you panted, tugging on the front fabric of his shirt before slumping your head against his chest.

“aww, my poor baby’s all exhausted, hm? there there, ‘s okay. i got you, kento’s got you.”

★ GOJO SATORU.

the moment he figures out you’re trying to be quiet purposely — hiding your moans. a hand covering your mouth he grows confused, yet it turns to straight cockiness. 

“heyyy, don’t be like that,” he purses his lips, you’re laid flat on your back with your legs just lightly pushed apart. just open and spread just for him and only him. “hiding your pretty moans from me? aw man, that’s no fun, princess…”

and he gives you a faux pout your right hand that wasn’t occupied, your nails dug into the depths of his skin, marking up his pale toned arm.

gojo looks down at you, one hand lightly pressing against your tummy to feel how good he was fucking you. 

“m-mhm s-sato—,” you’d pant, again and again. your pussy gripped and hugged tight against him. a bear hug practically. your walls grew out to be so needy, suffocating yet you get cut off your words once he grabs your chin. a thumb swipes against the tiny drool seeping down the corner of your mouth. 

“don’t hide from me.” he murmurs. he’s real slow with his movements against you, slow and steady. 

his bare chest presses against you, and he’s so hot, his heat radiates against your skin, almost as if he was sticking against you. “don’t cover that pretty face. matter of fact,” and then he pistons his thrusts—a hand running up and down your waist, squelches of your cunt ringing through your ears like a bell. “moan in my mouth. gimme a little kiss,” and then he teasingly puts a finger against his lips. “riiiight here, baby.”

his body jerks against yours and gojo brings you into a deep kiss once you lean. his tongue traces against yours, heaving before he starts moaning into your mouth from your sweetened taste.

“sweet girl,” he’d grunt, you could feel his erectness practically plug you full. whilst gojo’s chest pressed against yours, he started to grind slowly against you. your lips parted a bit, eliciting a needy moan from your throat.

it was the way your legs trapped his slim waist, easily locking around. you gasped — feeling gojo move your hand from your face, pinning them towards the sides, and you felt that dumb coy smile of his tug against the corners of his lips.

he smiles at how you start to cover your mouth again, but he moves your hand away. “so damn shy for nooo reason,” he teases. with a blindfold half on, gojo he playfully tugs on the band, clicking his tongue with a swift head shake. “ah ah, i wanna hear you.”

and you grew out to be more flustered the minute he pulls away from kissing. strands of spit depart your lips and his. leaning into your neck to softly, gojo nibbles against your skin all to just to drag out more noises from you.

“think ‘m gonna laugh at your orgasm or somethin’?” he whispers against your skin, still buried deep—inches inside your pussy that gripped and clamped down on him before he giggles at the way you nod. “aw. i won’t do that. ‘m not that mean.”

“promise?” you mumbled.

his thrusts, so fulfilling. it was so deep, reaching directly into those spots to make you your brain short circuit. swallowing thickly, you end up cutely tugging on his arm.

he chuckles. “oh i promise, baby,” and then he plants a kiss near your nose—cheek—then near the corner of your mouth, finally locking his fingers with yours. “be as loud as you want, if it helps, i’ll be loud with you,” and then he runs a hand down his back. “just…not too loud because it’ll be the seventh time the erm…neighbors complain about us, heheh.”

★ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“what’s with you?” he raises a dark brow, your back’s being pressed against his chest.

riding him in reverse and you’re so quiet….

dragging a few nails lightly against his thigh and he gives the right side of your neck a few playful bites. “you’re not all whiney like ya usually are.”

his words were so smooth and sly against your neck, delicately brushing against your skin.

he throbs inside you, and you clamp and clamp down on him. you’re so dizzy—yet you seclude your moans by pressing your glossed lips together, only cute faint soft mutters of moans slipping out here and there.

“…woman,” he grunts, pausing your hips, your eyes briefly widen at the feeling of sukuna’s big hands hold your waist in place—a single shift of his thigh, and you felt his girth expand deep inside your walls. “aw don’t don’t hide from me now,” he smiles, a mere softness gliding against his deep tone.

you started to cover your face with your hands from how embarrassed you were—yet sukuna grabs your hands and chuckles. the way the tips of his fingers graze against you make you tingle. you pulsed so much—it got you off to where you felt yourself start to salivate, all from his touch and words.

“you know better than to not hide your pretty voice,” he murmurs, softly sinking his canines into your neck. nibble after nibble, you panted. a whimper leaves your throat once he starts to bounce his thigh. “or…should i stop?”

“n—no,” you choked out, a swift head shake. the way he softly sucks against your skin, gentle fangs softly seeping into your neck before giving your neck a few sweet kisses. “kuna- don’t stop.”

“i would,” he hums with a chortle. deep voice full of smug and satirize. and his cock was just idle against you. at this point you were cockwarming him, and you wanted to move but he had your hips still. “but i guess someone thought it was a good idea to hide their pretty moans from me.”

he was such a tease—you felt yourself burn up once he drags a a hand down between your legs to rub a few good circles against your clit, maneuvering his fingers, and you’re so wet….

it was sloppy.

squelch after squelch. you whimpered, gripping onto his hand to make him rub harder but then he chuckles, lightly swatting your hand away. “oh…?you like that? or you’d prefer for me to finish?”

“f-finish, ‘kuna..”

“then moan for me,” he whispers, giving your skin a soft suck. sukuna starts to bounce his thigh again and you whine. nails piercing into his thighs, you hit your lip before letting off a moan. “see, that wasn’t so hard, now was it, brat,” and he helps you start to grind your hips against him. reaching so deep, your head fell back against him and he lowly guffaws. “yeah, be loud. don’t care who here’s, ‘s just you and me.”

★ GETO SUGURU.

he’d be propped up in between your legs, eating you out like a starved man. you have the courtesy of tying his long, pretty hair back for him.

a few minutes had past yet he was taking his precious time, pressing sweet kisses against your cunt.

you felt yourself throb and flutter, gripping onto his hair and he has a smile.

“love pullin’ on my hair, huh?” he mutters, swiping a thumb against your slit. you happily coat him with your slick than ran down his chin. you gave him a pathetic nod, and you shiver, lips parting from the way geto presses his tongue against your labia — giving it lick after lick.

geto’s raises a brow at the way you’re covering your mouth with a hand, just barely keeping eye contact with him.

he plants a chaste kiss against your pussy before pausing briefly. breaking himself away and now you pout. “…hey,” he murmurs, a coy cunning voice. “stop that, baby.”

“s-stop what?” you hitched, your legs feeling warm. he was so sloppy with his tongue, yet gentle.

“girl, you know what i’m talking about.” a subtle eye-roll, geto sits up from between your legs. his tone was now filled with playfulness yet a bit of sass.

you stare down at him, a few strands occluding his view of vision.

tightly holding onto his hair, he stares at your pussy then at you.

“you’re being all timid and shy. c’mon, ‘s just me. i wanna hear how good i make you feel,” and then he slowly lays his tongue flat against your cunt. “…so…let….me,” he paused between speech. using two fingers to lightly spread open your folds, geto laps his tongue again to taste your sweet. “—finish my meal, and lemme hear you.”

“o-okay.” you stuttered. gritting your teeth for a split second, your legs felt numb and not even moments later.

he ends up coaxing yet another orgasm out of you, your mind goes blank. you were so loud.

he couldn’t help but chuckle at you, how cute you were. with the way your body jerked and squirmed all because of his tongue.

geto gives your pussy a good suck, he knows all the right spots to swirl and run his tongue across.

“there it is,” he hums, and his head goes forward before you yank a bit too hard between your legs. “e-easy, sweetheart. don’t pull my hair out now.”

★ FUSHIGURO TOJI.

toji grunts — two rough hands attached to your waist as he’s got your head pressed against the mattress. you’re biting the sheets with your teeth, strained moans being secluded entirely and toji immediately notices, you feel the curve of his dick throb against you. it was so good, your eyes rolled all the way back, toji’s got your wrists in a good hold before he pauses his sloppy thrusts.

“hmph.”

“w-why’d you stop..” you spat out, your voice was a bit shaky and muffled….solely from the way your teeth tugged against the sheets.

toji’s stubborn and doesn’t reply, and instead, he makes you move your ass up just a bit—yet he pulls out, and you gasp at the feeling of him just rubbing his leaky plump tip against your inner folds.

a few inches and he'd be right back in. you cringed. and you started to whine, face down and ass up, your body felt so hot and tingly.

“t-tojiiii..”

“w-whattt..”

he mocks your voice, and you let off a frustrated sigh, he butchers your tone in the most dramatic way. you don’t even sound like that. “aw, getting frustrated, ey? how come y’er biting the sheets. ya don’t want me to hear you or somethin’—?”

your eyebrows contorted together, and you huffed out a needy breath, back starting to arch idly. “no,” and you feel the tips of your ears grow hot at a scorching temperature—his tip, it was rounded and fat, just swiping against your folds. with just a bit of a push he’d be back inside, but he kept sliding out. “toji, f-finish…finish fucking me.”

“say please.”

you pout, your cheek pressing into the mattress now—desperately craving him to continue. “please…”

“silly girl. ya forgot to say pretty please.”

“toji….” you moaned, craving to feel him again, and he caressed his fingers against your ass, teasing you—a single playful click of his tongue, and he’s got you wrapped around his finger. he starts to make you rollick and move your hips against him, still holding your hips. you grumbled, finally letting off a moan—just wanting him to not tease and finish. “pretty please.”

“good girl,” he purrs softly, dipping his hips against you just slightly before you sit your head up. “now now, lie back,” he mutters, and he starts to go back inside again, a good squeeze and fit and you let off a soft whine once his cock hits there.

you’re seeing blanks, mouth open and all, you whimper before you start getting louder. “there we go….use that whiney voice, jus’ like ya always have, doll.”

[evilgwrl]

Simon Riley x Reader

Can You Ride?

Summary: Simon can’t wait to get home

CW (MDNI): Established relationship, car sex, riding, unprotected PIV, messy, fingering, squirting, praise, lovey dovey sex, semi-public sex?

Word Count: 1,477

Masterlist

Your fingers interlocked with Simon’s, smile adorned across your face as he led you back to the car. “Y’ enjoy lunch?” He said, voice naturally gruff as he squeezed your hand.

“Mhm, was good. Did you?”

He mumbled a ‘yeah’ as he opened the door for you, the hem of your dress riding up slightly, his gaze fixated on the exposure of your plush thigh. He coughed as he walked to the driver’s side.

It was a decent drive, around 45 minutes as Simon’s fingers fumbled with the CarPlay before you shushed him away and jabbed in your address.

“I had it,” he said, eyes darting to you as you laughed.

“I’m sure you did, baby.”

His hand fell on your thigh, thumb rubbing it soothingly as you stroked up his exposed arm, gently scratching with your nails. He liked that.

You were both quiet, but it was never awkward. You knew that Simon wasn’t a massive talker, and you were both secure and comfortable enough to know that you didn’t need to talk 24/7, even if you were together.

You pulled down a long road, trees aligned on both sides, minimal cars zapping across the other way as Simon’s eyes occasionally darted down to your exposed skin. He felt himself chub up slightly.

Did you wear a sundress on purpose? You know how he felt about them.

His fingers itched for more, trailing up your leg slightly, and if you realised, you didn’t show it. His touch got more wanting, burning up your thigh as it slipped under your dress. You looked at him, eyebrow cocked as he shrugged, yet didn’t hesitate to spread your thighs, an appreciative hum passing his lips.

Being around your boyfriend was difficult. Everything about him turned you on. His height, his build, his muscles, his tattoos, when he wore his mask, when he didn’t, him being in the military and a Lieutenant and that. It was all too much, so it wasn’t a surprise to him when he finally reached your panty-clad pussy, that there was a damp spot.

He let out a huff off a laugh, his eyes not leaving the road as another hand pushed your undies to the side, pussy now exposed as you lifted your legs up, spreading them. It was taboo, if a truck drove past you they would know what was going on but you think Simon liked that, knowing someone was watching how he was making you feel and only him.

You gasped, clutching his hand as you felt a rough finger pinch your clit before teasingly rubbing it in slow, small circles. Long middle finger dipped into your slit, running through your folds as he turned to you, cocky smile on his face as he felt your wetness.

You rolled your eyes at him before stuttering out a moan as a finger plunged in, massaging the gooey walls of your sex as soft pants fell from your lips.

His strokes were painfully slow, almost like he wanted you to break and tell him to hurry the fuck up. You gasped at the fullness when another finger breached your entrance, slowly pushing in as he somehow managed to focus on the tangling depths of the tar.

“S-stop teasing me,” you gasped out, breath jammed in your throat as he let out a laugh before his fingers began to work up their speed, hitting your spots deliciously as you moaned.

Your own finger came down to toy with your clit as you noticed his eyes flicker down to it, a groan leaving his lips.

“Eyes on the road,” you teased as he shot you a dirty look.

Your breathing sped up, his fingers pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, your walls contracting to the thick digits and squelching appreciatively at the sensation that was building.

It never took Simon long to make you cum but every time still took you by surprise. You could feel the slow build up beginning as you stuttered out a moan, your own finger rubbing desperately against your hardened bud as you dug your nails into his arm, hard enough to leave crescent shaped marks but not hard enough to draw blood.

You were a moaning mess as you gushed around his fingers, juices spluttering across his hand and onto the leather seat in-front of you as you whined at the sensation.

“Jesus Christ,” Simon practically growled before he was pulling down a dodgy side road, dirt grumbling against the tires.

You looked at him as he lowered his seat down, veiny hands instantly tugging off his belt as he shoved his pants down to his ankles, cock leaking precum as it slapped against his stomach, a soft trail of hair leading down to his heavy set of balls.

“Get on,” he grunted as you looked at him, before you were ducking down to avoid hitting the ceiling. Car sex was difficult with Simon, his massive thighs barely giving you any room but somehow you managed, wedging your own next to his as he held the base of his cock upwards.

No matter how many times you guys had sex, it always took you a minute to grow accustomed to his cock, the sheer girth and length stretching you to the max.

You straddled his lap, tits flush against his face as he pulled the straps of your dress down, tongue flicking out to wrap his laps around a puckered nipple whilst you lowered yourself down his length slowly, hands reaching out to grab at his massive shoulders.

He watched your face scrunch up, both in pleasure and pain as you slid slowly down him.

“That’s it baby, you can take it,” he encouraged, rubbing a small circle on your back as you whined at the fullness, his cock still not all the way in.

He pushed up slightly, bottoming out in side you as you let out a pornographic moan, his hands reaching out to grope at your tits while you sat there, growing comfortable with the staggering girth inside you.

You began to move, hips raising slightly before lowering, growing your confidence as he continued rubbing your back, mouth sucking at your chest like he was starving.

“Good girl, hm? Taking me so well.”

His words were like a fire inside you, taking over your entire body and setting it alight as your hips began to move faster, his cock disappearing and reappearing as your pussy swallowed it with each thrust.

The squelches and the slaps of your sex were obscene, the windows beginning to fog as Simon began to meet your thrusts, hitting against your g-spot as you cried out, wobbly legs barely able to take him as you tried to keep up with his demanding jabs inside you.

“Fuck,” you swore, “I love you, Simon.” Your hands planted on his cheeks, foreheads merged together as you matched each other’s pace.

“I love you,” he grunted, his hand pulling on the back of your neck into him as you kissed. There was no tongue, just gentle touches between your lips, savouring every breath you both shared, your bodies becoming one, being as close as you could possibly ever be to another person.

Your thrusts became more lazy, your stomach spiralling again into a bundle of blistering nerves ready to pop.

“I’m gonna- gonna cum, Si.”

“Me too, angel,” he panted, voice thick with both lust and love as you held onto him, your skin slapping against each other, his hands grabbing at every part of you before you staggered your movements, a loud moan passing your lips as your pussy convulsed, squeezing and throbbing around his length as you orgasmed, the muscles in your legs throbbing as they vibrated against his owns.

His pace became sloppy before he let out a guttural groan, hot pumps of semen seeping into your exhausted cunt, the remainder of your orgasm milking his length as you both moaned in unison.

You slumped against him, body sweaty as he kissed your forehead, whispering praises in your ear as he rubbed your back. Your legs wobbled as you tried to sit up, his hands reaching out to grope your tits once more before pulling your straps back up.

He placed a gentle kiss on your lips as you craned your neck to the side, laughing at the fogged up windows before his index finger reached out, drawing half a heart before you copied him, connecting the two.

He gave you a pat on the ass as he helped adjust you back to your seat, digging in the compartment for some wet wipes before gently wiping you and the seat down and placing it in the tiny bin he kept on the side of the door.

“You okay?” He whispered, holding your hand.

“I’m perfect baby. Let’s go home.”

[darksturnz]

── ⋮ ⌗ “FUCKIN’ TAKE IT. . .” ⟢ BF.ᐟMATT ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut heavy-plot ・unprotected p n v・part two to THIS ・ this was requested!

His words replay in your mind, looping, sinking deep.

M’gonna make you the prettiest momma ever, ‘kay?

It’s filthy. It’s possessive. It’s exactly what you didn’t know you needed to hear.

A quiet whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. You try to suppress it, biting down on the inside of your cheek, but Matt catches it—of course he does. His smirk is slow, knowing, dripping with amusement as he dips his head to press a kiss just below your ear.

“Didn’t answer me, sweetheart.” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it now, something rougher, something hungry. His fingers press into your thighs, urging you forward, making you grind against him just a little harder. “Y’gotta tell me if that’s what you want.”

Your breath stutters. “Matt—”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t ease up, doesn’t let you shy away from the heat between you. His lips ghost over your jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath it, where he knows you always melt for him. “Use your words, baby.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliated by how quickly you unraveled, by how easily he turned your ache into something entirely different. But Matt doesn’t let you drift too far into your own head—he never does. His hands are patient, coaxing, always knowing exactly what you need before you even realize it yourself.

One of them slides up your back, threading into your hair as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. His gaze is heavy, burning into you, his pupils wide, dark, consuming.

“C’mon, sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips barely brushing against yours, teasing but not giving. “can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

Your body betrays you before your mouth can. Your hips shift instinctively, chasing friction, chasing him. His hold tightens in response, and the sharp inhale he takes tells you everything you need to know—he’s feeling it, too.

You swallow hard, embarrassment burning beneath the want. “I just—” Your voice is unsteady, barely a whisper. “I just need you.”

Matt hums in approval, his fingers flexing, pulling you flush against him. “Yeah?” His lips finally, finally press against yours, a slow, deep kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. “let me take care of you.”

His hands move with purpose, trailing lower, dipping beneath the hem of his shirt that swallows your frame, slipping past the last barrier between you.

His fingers push your panties to the side, barely brushing over your soaked cunt before pressing in deep, curling just right, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure straight through your core. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you still as he works you open, taking his time, watching the way you fall apart in his lap.

“Already so fuckin’ wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement. “Barely touched you.”

You whimper, your hips rolling against his hand, desperate for more. But before you can even reach for him, before you can beg, he groans low, frustrated.

His cock is straining against his sweats, the fabric damp where he’s leaking against it, and he exhales sharply before yanking them down just enough to free himself. The thick head of him presses against your entrance, rubbing against your clit for a moment before he lines up and sinks inside in one slow, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch has you gasping, nails digging into his shoulders, but he doesn’t give you a moment to process it before—

“Matt! Where the fuck are you kid?”

His teammate’s voice from the headset he threw onto the desk startles you, breaking through the haze.

Your breath catches, your body tensing, but Matt barely reacts. He exhales through his nose, visibly annoyed, then reaches over, picking up the headset. His other hand remains firm on your waist, keeping you completely still with his cock buried deep inside you.

He un-mutes.

“Right here,” he says, completely level, voice smooth, steady, like he’s not currently splitting you open. “What’re you yellin’ for, told you my girl was sleeping”

Your nails dig deeper into his skin, your hips shifting instinctively, desperate for movement, for relief, but he doesn’t budge.

You whimper softly, barely able to think past the need clawing through you, but Matt—cruel, infuriatingly hot Matt—just picks up his controller and returns to his game.

You try again, grinding against him, but all it earns you is a sharp squeeze to your thigh—a silent warning.

His mic mutes.

“What?” His voice is lazy, rough, thick with something darker. “You wanted it, didn’t you? So fuckin’ take it.”

Your breath stutters.

You have no choice—he’s not going to move, not going to help you.

So you do as you’re told.

You start slow, rolling your hips, testing, adjusting to the thick stretch of him. The burn in your thighs is immediate, but it’s nothing compared to the ache between your legs, the desperate need for friction, for more.

You whimper, pressing closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Matt,” you plead, voice shaking. “Please—please move—”

His mic unmutes.

“Matt, cover me dipshit—fuck—”

“That’s on you dude, I’m hitting my shots” he mutters, completely indifferent, but his fingers flex on your hips, betraying his composure.

It’s unbearable—the slow build of pleasure, the strain in your legs, the torture of knowing he could so easily take control but won’t.

Eventually, your body gives out.

Your thighs tremble violently, burning with exertion, and you falter, collapsing against him with a frustrated whimper.

His mic mutes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice is soft now, teasing, taunting.

You shake your head, fingers clutching at his shirt. “Can’t,” you whisper. “Need you—please.”

His hand slides up your back, pressing you close, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Yeah?” His breath is warm, thick with amusement. “You given up already?”

You nod frantically, too far gone for embarrassment. “Please, Matt—need you so bad.”

Matt groans, the sound low and wrecked, and that’s all it takes—his own patience snaps.

His hand flies to his headset, tearing it off. “Nate—I’m getting off.”

“What? We’re in the middle of—”

Matt doesn’t even wait for a full response before exiting the game entirely.

The screen goes dark for a moment before his PC background illuminates the room—a picture of you curled against his chest, tangled in his sheets, the soft glow casting light across his sharp features.

And then he moves.

The first thrust is brutal, knocking the breath from your lungs, and then he’s pounding into you, gripping your waist, pulling you down to meet each deep, punishing stroke.

“This what you need?” he growls against your ear, voice rough, breath ragged. 

You nod frantically, moaning his name, nails dragging down his back.

His grip on your waist is tight, almost bruising, holding you in place as he drives into you. The wet, obscene sounds of it fill the dimly lit room, mixing with the soft whimpers spilling from your lips, with the ragged, uneven breaths against your ear.

He doesn’t ease up, doesn’t slow down—just takes you, hips snapping up into yours with a brutal rhythm, pulling you down every time you start to lift yourself off of him, making sure you feel every single inch.

You sob against his shoulder, overwhelmed, body shaking, thighs trembling from the sheer force of it. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

And maybe he is.

“You feel that?” His voice is a low growl against your ear, rough, breath ragged, laced with something dark, something possessive. “Gonna let me put my baby in you?”

You nod frantically, barely able to form words, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. Your nails drag down his back, digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt, and he groans, sharp and guttural, his pace stuttering for just a second before he recovers.

“Fuck—” His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder, making you take him deeper. “Wish I knew—knew you wanted this sooner.”

You whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding weakly. “Wanna have your baby,” you breathe, barely coherent, voice small and wrecked. “Want you, Matt—please.”

His jaw clenches, his breath hitching slightly. His hips slow for a fraction of a second, like he’s processing it—your desperation, your need for him—before he lets out a sharp exhale and picks up the pace again, fucking into you with a newfound urgency.

And at this point, you don’t even care how loud you are, how utterly wrecked you sound. You just hold onto him, sobbing his name, letting him take exactly what he wants—letting him give you exactly what you need.

Matt’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising force, guiding you, controlling every desperate shift of your body. The force of his thrusts sends you bouncing in his lap, each deep stroke shoving you further into the mattress of his chair, forcing you to take him exactly how he wants.

Your legs are trembling, thighs burning from the earlier effort, but it doesn’t matter—not when he’s finally giving you what you begged for, not when every sharp snap of his hips has you spiraling closer to the edge.

“Shiiiittt,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. “So fuckin’ tight—gripping me—”

You whimper in response, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as you cling to him.

Matt grunts, a sharp exhale against your skin, before he shifts slightly, planting his feet firmly against the floor.

Then he really starts to fuck you.

The rhythm turns relentless, deep and rough, his hips lifting off the chair to meet every downward roll of yours. The chair creaks beneath you, the obscene slap of skin-on-skin filling the space between your ragged breaths, between the filthy, low groans Matt presses into your throat.

“You takin’ it, sweet girl?” His voice is rough, nearly wrecked, but still teasing, still cruel. “This what you were cryin’ for?”

Your only response is a choked sob, your head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as heat builds low in your stomach, tightening, coiling, ready to snap.

Matt’s mouth is on you immediately—lips dragging down the column of your throat, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before he bites, sucking a mark into the dip of your shoulder, his own way of branding you, of making sure you feel him even after this.

The pressure is unbearable now, your body trembling, overstimulated and desperate, but you still want more.

“Matt,” you gasp, voice barely a whisper. “Close—gonna—”

He exhales sharply, his grip on you turning brutal. His hands move down, sliding to the backs of your thighs, spreading you open even more as he pounds into you, pushing you right to the edge, forcing you into it.

“Then come for me,” he mutters against your skin, his voice pure sin, pure need. “C’mon, baby—let me feel it.”

Your body locks up, the pressure finally snapping, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense it nearly knocks you unconscious. You sob against his shoulder, every muscle in your body going taut as you clench around him, shaking, unraveling completely.

Matt curses beneath his breath, the sensation sending him straight into his own undoing. His thrusts turn frantic, messy, his breath hot against your skin.

Then you clarify it—

“Inside—please, Matt—inside,” you gasp, barely coherent, but completely, utterly serious.

His entire body tenses. He didn’t really think you’d actually let him, but he wasn’t complaining either.

His jaw clenches, his grip on you tightening to the point of pain, and then he slams deep one final time, burying himself inside you completely, holding you still as he fills you, groaning deep in his chest.

The only sound left is your heavy, uneven breaths, the soft hum of his PC still glowing behind him, the slight creak of the chair as he slumps forward, wrapping his arms around you.

His lips find your temple, soft, warm, pressing against your damp skin as he exhales, still catching his breath.

His voice is lower now, hoarse, rough, but serious.

“Y’know I mean it, right?” he murmurs against your skin. “Not just sayin’ shit, I will give you all the babies you want, sweetheart.”

authors note: spectacular gimme 14 of ‘em!

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