#i was possessed by the sudden need to draw this man

[nichiperi]

here. have some dibs.

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[hopesangelsprite]

Closer

Pairing: Illumi x Wife!reader

Warnings: kissing, suggestive content, light angst

Summary: Your husband isn't really the touchy feely type... but when it comes to you that tends to change often and very quickly.

It wasn't often that your husband had days off. It was even rarer that he spent those days off relaxing rather than training or picking up small, quick missions for extra money (not that he needed it anyway). Today was different, though. Illumi had about a week of downtime before his next mission and, instead of prepping, he was sprawled across your shared bed napping.

You were worried at first, his uncharacteristic behavior causing you to wonder if he was feeling well. After the first few days of observing him and assuring yourself that he wasn't ill, you chalked it up to him finally taking some time to relieve stress. Though you wanted to relax with him, there were still a few tasks you needed to complete beforehand. You sighed inwardly from your desk and continued to work on your computer. What had started as light research quickly turned into hours of sifting through data and you were quickly becoming annoyed.

"Wife.", Illumi called out, his voice heavy with sleep. You froze and listened for any signs he was fully awake. Illumi took your silence as ignoring him and spoke again. "You know I don't like repeating myself.", he grumbled and the sound of sheets rustling met your ears. You turned in your chair to see your husband sitting up on his elbows, eyes half-lidded with sleep and light annoyance. "What is it, love?", you hummed at his tired, disturbed state.

Without another word spoken, he patted the empty side of your bed and motioned for you to come forward. Your brow quirked and a smirk crept onto your lips. "You're not being serious, are you? You usually want nothing to do with me when it's nap time.", you chuckled and his eyes narrowed even more.

"I'm not above coming to get you myself. However, for your sake, I advise you to do as asked.", he spoke lowly while brushing inky strands of hair from his face. A giggle passed your lips as you stood and made your way toward the bed and joined your grumpy husband. After taking a moment to adjust the two of you, Illumi nestled his face against the side of yours and exhaled. "That wasn't so hard, was it? You've been at that damned computer much too long for my liking.", he complained as he pulled a small blanket over the both of you.

You rolled over to face him, placing a kiss between his collarbone and Adam's apple. "Almost sounds like you missed me.", you cooed sweetly to which he huffed through his nose. "So, what if I did? A man's allowed to miss his wife, is he not?", he mused with hands gently drawing patterns onto your lower back. You opted for more silence as you looked over his features, taking mental photos in case his next mission took him away from you longer than usual.

Illumi opened his eyes, lashes fluttering as he looked over you with onyx orbs. "What's wrong?", he questioned softly while pulling you closer. You shrugged and leaned into him, indulging in the cool of his skin. "I miss you a lot when you're gone.", you finally answer, "I wonder whether or not you'll come back to me sometimes…". Illumi remained silent, allowing the weight of your words to fully settle over the room. It was often you felt this way, the long periods of waiting eating away at your resolve. His occasional battered state upon returning only deepened that fear that he'd not come home one day.

"You don't have to worry about that.", Illumi spoke after a little while, "I'll always come back to you… even if it's the last thing I do.". You looked up at him, in awe of the sudden tenderness he possessed. "Promise?", you whispered into the room's atmosphere. He nodded, taking your hand in his and intertwining his fingers with yours. "I promise.", he vowed before pulling you impossibly closer.

You smiled giddily, the tension finally rolling off your shoulders. "Besides,", Illumi spoke as he settled himself in the valley of your breasts, "How could I possibly think of leaving all of this behind?". A gasp and a cackle as you felt him nibble at your chest, his hands squeezing the fat of your ass. "I knew you didn't want me to nap with you!!", you laughed while trying to wriggle out of his hold, "I still have work to do!".

You managed to get a leg and an arm free before Illumi dragged you back into him. "The only thing you should be doing is me.", he muttered while attempting to hold you still. After a while of resisting, you finally let your husband pin you to the bed with a satisfied smirk. "Your research can't make you feel the way I do, can it?", he questioned proudly to which you rolled your eyes. Even though you didn't want to admit it, he was right. You stared up at him, taking in just how pretty he was with bedhead and sleep still lingering in his eyes.

"Fine. You get two rounds before I go back to work.", you offered to which he scoffed with narrowed eyes. "Four rounds.", he countered indignantly. You smirked while tucking a few strands of hair behind his ears. "Three rounds and cuddles. Take it or leave it.", you negotiated before leaning in to kiss him. "Deal.", he hummed between kisses with hands roaming across your body, "I'll give you under-desk support after.".

"What? No-".

[sunshinescribes]

The House Always Wins

Part 2 of this fic

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, (lowkey) Sugar Daddy Crocodile, Crocodile is smug and petty

(edit: realized the original artwork was fanart and I couldn't find the artist's @ to credit them, so I changed it)

Crocodile doesn’t know what to expect when he wanders onto the casino floor of Rain Dinners in search of you. Slot machines chime, playing a catchy little tune with each pull of the lever. Dealers grin and offer words of encouragement, coaxing big-eyed fools into another game with the sweet promise of lady luck’s favor.  

You don’t usually partake in gambling, not keen on the idea of betting away your berries when you know it’s all rigged—and why would you even need to? You never ask for anything, but Crocodile provides. Spoils you even.

He enjoys watching the way your eyes get all big, stunned by the diamond necklace he places around your neck, or the soft gasp that passes your lips when he gifts silk charmeuse and chiffon dresses, designed, and tailored just for you.

Crocodile continues to seek you out, his sharp eyes flitting between the slot machines and card tables. He ignores the curious and lingering looks targeted at him—the smartly dressed patrons who vie for his attention as he continues to search—and then he hears it.

Your laugh, loud and beautiful—music to his fucking ears. He turns.

Crocodile doesn’t expect to see you at the bar, perched on a stool, leaning into a man he doesn’t recognize. Your hand is on his slender arm, your lips pulled into a pretty smile, and laughter escapes again—so lovely and genuine and for someone else.

The man grins at you sheepishly, transfixed on your mouth. It’s so blatant—barely contained, the way he’s staring at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

You must feel Crocodile’s eyes on you because you glance over your shoulder suddenly. Your smile widens, and you exchange a quick word with the mysterious man before hopping down from your seat.

Crocodile is silent as you approach, stone-faced. You grab his arm with both hands and tilt your head towards the man, all while smiling up at him.

“I want you to meet my friend,” you say excitedly, steering him towards the bar.

Crocodile doesn’t catch the name that rolls off your tongue—he can’t seem to hear anything over the sudden ringing in his ears, so sharp it drowns out the sounds of the jingling slot machines and triumphant cheers of those foolish enough to think they’re the winners.

The fond smile that plays on the mystery man’s lip never falls, but Crocodile notices the sudden unease as the man’s eyes land on him. The imposing height, the cold, almost irritated expression he comfortably wears—the golden hook that glints under the blinding casino lights. It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone smart enough to value their life.

And the man is a small thing—average in every sense of the word, Crocodile thinks. The plain clothes, the nervous, uncertain words that stumble from his mouth as he tries to introduce himself. Crocodile doesn’t feign interest—he barely even acknowledges your friend, and that only serves to add to his anxiety.

If it wasn’t for the pitiful look you shoot him, Crocodile would laugh at just how pathetic this man is.

“We both grew up in Coombe,” you explain, glancing back at the mystery man. “I never thought you’d leave the North Blue.”

He must take your surprise as a compliment because he gives you another bashful smile.

“I didn’t either. Guess I finally figured if you could do it, so could I,” he chuckles softly. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here, of all places.”

“Small world,” Crocodile chimes in dryly, drawing your friend’s attention once more.

Crocodile places a hand on your hip, drawing you a little closer to him.“She never mentions much about her home in the North Blue.”

And she never mentioned you. The insult is unspoken, so subtle that he thinks even you don’t catch it.

But it’s also true. You rarely spoke about the North Blue—of the life you had before you entered the Grand Line and ended up in Alabasta. You never mused over an island you once called home, or a lovesick, hairbrained boy you left on it, and Crocodile doesn’t pry. He isn’t particularly interested in knowing, truth be told. He only cares about the life you have now, with him.

The man goes on an excited tirade about how beautiful Coombe is this time of year, about how you used to love the new bloom after winter finally passed, and all the fun you both had in your youth. He can’t help but reminisce, tries to connect with you in the only way he’s able.

“You should visit when you can. Uh—you both should.”

You pretend to consider it, and Crocodile gives little more than an unaffected grunt.

You inquire how long he’ll be staying and recommend shops and restaurants he must visit before leaving. He shamelessly seeks more of your company—your attention—and asks if you could possibly give him a tour.

You promise to check your schedule and follow up, and he beams as if he’s won an invaluable prize. Crocodile’s irritation grows—twists and festers the longer he stands by your side, little more than an onlooker. His frustration isn’t directed at you—you’ve always been friendly, offering a smile where he would surely offer a sneer, but it doesn’t stop his grip from tightening on your hip.

You notice, finally excusing yourself. The man gives you both a soft goodbye, one that Crocodile ignores completely as he whisks you away, and he can’t help the way his lips pull into a smug grin at the quick glimpse of the dejected look on his face. It must hurt him to see you walk away in the arms of another—to know the golden opportunity he thought the world had provided him never existed at all.

“You didn’t like him.”

It’s the first thing you say when you enter Crocodile’s private suite, disappointment dripping in your voice. You weren’t foolish enough to think he would be thrilled, but you thought Crocodile would at least be amicable. 

He shrugs his coat off, placing it on the coat hanger near the door. “He was shameless.”

Your brows furrow, your lips pull into a slight frown…You don’t know? It takes Crocodile by surprise; surely you must. The man is far too obvious; his intentions are impossible to mask.

“He would have taken you right there on the bar if you had let him,” Crocodile scoffs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“Gage?”

So that’s his name.

Your voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, taken aback by the sudden accusation. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

Crocodile gives a mirthless laugh. You’re so sweet. So naïve. Always offering others the benefit of the doubt.

Crocodile recognized the hunger in his eyes—the longing. He suspects this friend of yours has harped on you for a long time, never quite brave enough to take the chance.

Not even now. By some miracle, he survived the Grand Line, and he still can’t brave his own futile emotions. Crocodile isn’t sure whether to laugh at how spineless the man is or burn with anger at how he even thinks he has any chance of having you.

The dark, ravenous part of him takes high offense.  

Crocodile comes up behind you and dwarfs you with his body as his decorated hand cradles your jaw. “Course he does. Look at you.”

He tilts your head, forces you to face the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. You try to focus on your own reflection, but you can’t help but watch Crocodile when he dips down, pressing a tender kiss to your neck, all while his half-lidded eyes hold your gaze.

“Maybe I should invite him to our room so he can watch me fuck you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver, nearly stumble out of his grasp as his lips trail higher.

“Don’t be cruel...”

Cruel? His offer would be courteous. It would be the closest your lovestruck friend would ever get to your naked form. The only way he would ever know what you sound and look like at the height of your pleasure—how perfect you are, stuffed and babbling through your orgasm.

The cruel thing would be what he truly wants to do—to use his devil fruit powers to turn the man into a withering corpse, forgotten in the endless sand dunes.

“Would you rather he joined?” Crocodile inquiries plainly.

He attempts to come off unaffected…curious, but the wicked voice in the back of his mind nags at him, hisses about feelings that could have been, and still may be.

The man matches your gentle nature, and is somewhat competent, at least to have made it this far from the North Blue. He’s the kind of man who would kneel at your feet if you asked, worship you as if it were his sole purpose—he’d give you a typical life, picturesque in its simplicity, and you would be content.

The thought makes something vicious twist in his gut. It makes time stand still as Crocodile awaits your answer.

“No.” You shake your head softly, meeting his cold eyes in the mirror. “I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

Of course not. What would you want with a sniveling worm? How could you go back to mediocrity after everything that’s been offered to you? The attention of a warlord of the sea—the savior of Alabasta. How could anyone else ever compare?

It’s pathetic how the gluttonous beast inside of Crocodile settles and hums contentedly, knowing that you only want him.

And maybe this is your power he couldn’t recognize before, why he was so unnerved in the beginning—this ability to effortlessly turn sensible men foolish. Even him.

“Only want you.” You turn, your soft eyes trained on him. “Always want you.”

Crocodile captures your lips as the words escape, and you melt into him—mold your body into his until he is all you sense. The heady scent of his sweet cigars mixes with hints of patchouli and cedar—his cologne—it lingers on his fitted clothes, drawing you deeper into his searing kiss.

You feel the bend of his golden hook press into the curve of your back, forcing you to curl into him as he parts your lips with his tongue. You’re caught in a pleasant haze, lightheaded, while Crocodile kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, making sure that your lips never forget the feel and taste of him—that they never desire another’s.

Crocodile lifts you from the ground effortlessly with his ringed hand, still kissing you hungrily as he shifts blindly through his suite, knowing the layout well enough to stumble into his lavish bedroom. He parts from you with a low groan.

“Lay down,” he orders against your lips, and you comply, sinking into the soft mattress while he looms over you.

The ache you feel in your core blossoms—hurts so good from how desperately you want him—to be wrecked and teary-eyed and a mess for him.

You even go as far as to whine when you notice Crocodile isn’t working to free the fierce erection that strains his dress pants, eager to be lost in your warmth.

“None of that,” Crocodile tuts coyly, lowering to his knees near the foot of the bed. His large hand skims up the length of your thigh, pushing up your dress until it is bunched around your waist, and he can see the evidence of your arousal staining your thin lingerie—another gift.

That creature inside of him purrs gleefully, proud of how well he turns you into a spectacle—a gift of his own to admire and unravel again and again.

Crocodile tugs your panties down your legs, tossing it aside carelessly as his hooded eyes catch on your bare pussy, already slick and ready for him. A deep, guttural noise catches in his throat as you part your legs—eagerly welcome him where he belongs.

“I bet he wonders what you taste like…” Crocodile muses, leaning into your aching slit. A soft gasp passes your lips when you feel the heat of his mouth on your needy cunt, tending to the ache his salacious words and desperate kisses created.

There are rare moments when Crocodile takes you apart slowly, his movements languid and measured, bringing you to the height of your pleasure at an agonizing pace, only to rip it away just when you begin to tip over the edge. And then he continues the process again and again. He leaves you delirious on days like that, wasting the hours away with your body—and perhaps today would be a day such as that if he didn’t feel he had something to prove.

If the desire to plague your every thought didn’t control him like a cruel master.

Your soft whimpers turn to shameless, needy moans, light and airy but loud enough to satisfy the wicked parts of him.

“S’good,” you whine drunkenly, your hips bucking instinctively when Crocodile’s lips latch onto your neglected clit. Your fingers thread into his long hair, pull him even closer, and he groans—it makes you arch painfully as the feel of it cascades through your body and tickles your aching nub.

Each swipe of his talented tongue pushes you closer, making the heat that pools in your stomach metastasize until you’re chanting his name, so close and ready to reward him.

He squeezes your clit with his mouth, sucks your aching bud, and you’re gone—shoved over the edge as pure hot pleasure rips through you, flows from between your legs, and Crocodile laps up your sweetness like a starved man.

You glance down at him through your lashes, eyes heavy, body slowly recovering. Crocodile pulls away from your pretty pussy with a sigh, as if he’s sad to part, and the idea alone makes your core ache with newfound need.

“Always so sweet for me.”

Your release smears his chin. It makes him look depraved and delicious. If you had the energy for it, you’d lift from your spot on the bed and kiss him. Feel the taste of yourself on his tongue, but all you can do is watch him with tired eyes as he rids himself of his clothes, tosses his lavish vest and dress shirt aside haphazardly.

His pants are the last thing to go, and you watched as if caught in a spell, buzzing with anticipation as he palms his hard dick. It’s so pretty, with the tip blushing and spilling precum that glides onto his thick fingers. Crocodile smirks, amused by the enchanted look in your eyes.

“This what you want, darling?” he asks, giving his dick a rough tug that warrants a delighted hiss. You nod—nearly sob—as you continue to watch Crocodile’s hand rub up and down the length of his lovely cock. You feel so empty—the desire to be filled in a way only he’s capable of taking precedence in your mind.

“Tell me,” Crocodile encourages as he shifts to the bed, his large frame casting you in shadows as he hovers over you. That smug smile still plays at his lips and only grows crueler as he grinds his hard length against your needy cunt.

“N-need you. Fuck—need you so—so bad. Baby please—”

The request sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, but it must be exactly what Crocodile wants to hear because he sinks into you the second the term of endearment passes your lips.

A deep grunt rips from his throat and tickles your ear pleasantly as Crocodile drags his fat cock deeper into you. You’re so warm and wet and snug, your velvety walls hugging him like this is where he belongs—where he should always be.

And he’ll admit, there’s no better place than here, between your legs. No better feeling in the whole fucking world—not even the sweet giddiness that builds inside of him each passing day as the fall of the Alabasta Kingdom draws closer. Having you writhing beneath him, breathless and lovely, is incomparable—a sensation he never tires of.

“Always take me so—mmm…well,” Crocodile rasps, transfixed on how your sloppy cunt swallows him over and over and over again. It makes him fuck you harder; drive even deeper. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

And he thinks perhaps it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to you. Uncertainty still stirs within him—dread lingers in the corner of his mind, silent and waiting, because you complicate everything. You’re the only person who can placate the ravenous creature within him, feeding its insatiable appetite without it ever growing incurious. It wants everything you have to offer—can’t conceive of feeding from anyone who isn’t you. Not anymore.

Never.

Crocodile pushes your thighs close to your chest, drives his dick even deeper as he continues to pound into you. The sound of his powerful thrusts and your tortured moans is a beautiful symphony, lovelier than the melodic sounds of the stirring sand at dawn.

You have that lost, blissed-out look in your eyes as you blink up at him, words completely evading you as he uses you.

How could your foolish friend ever even dream of having you like this? Think he could possibly do to you what Crocodile has done?

Crocodile feels equally as hopeless as you—is incapable of thinking clearly because a confession he knows he should swallow pours from his lips without warning.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he growls, digging the tip of his hook into the mattress, inches away from your head.

You should be…shocked. Unnerved by such a confession. Crocodile doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he never mutters his murderous intent. He hides behind practiced indifference; let’s others paint a glorious picture of him, never revealing his true nature. You attempt to feign shock for a split second, but you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and goes mad at his declaration—some depraved, feral part of you stirring to life.

And the knowledge that a part of you likes this fucked up part of him must awaken something in him, because his thrusts grow brutal, his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you into the mattress like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to. Crocodile hits deeper, the head of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongey spot inside of you, and you’re gone before you can even warn him.

You choke out something that sounds like it could be his name, tears trickling down your cheeks as you come so violently that your breath stutters. You shake through your orgasm, squirm beneath Crocodile while he fucks you through it—watching you come apart with wicked fascination and unbridled lust.

He loves how he wrecks you—how you hold onto him for dear life, as if he might slip away.

He’s ruined you, just like you’ve ruined him.

The thought alone is the final push he needs, make his dick throb violently as he explodes inside of you and fills you up the way he knows you crave—the way your perfect pussy deserves. The squelch of his seed mixing with your sweetness is enough to drive him mad. Makes him want to fuck another load into you.

Maybe in a bit, he considers as he rocks his hips sluggishly, riding out the sweet aftershock of his powerful orgasm.

You’re little more than a quivering mess under him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is ragged…so so beautiful, and Crocodile doesn’t frighten at the tender feeling that blossoms in his chest—a sudden warmth that takes him by surprise yet seems to make all the sense in the world as he stares down at you, all while a pleasant thought crosses his twisted mind.

What’s the harm?

Why shouldn’t I revel in what’s mine?

divider credit @/cafekitsune

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, “HE’S THE BEST BROTHER EVER”

ᡣ𐭩 summary: you prank them based on this | prank link

ᡣ𐭩 warnings: nsfw in cassian’s, crack

ᡣ𐭩 amara’s note: help this was so fun to make thank you for the req anon | based on this request

⊹ RHYSAND

"Rhys, come here! I'm making a cute video of us."

He practically runs to you, ensuring his clothes are smoothed out and his hair is laid to perfection.

You step back when you press the record button and then get closer to him, putting your hand on his abs.

"You see this man?" you say with an extra dose of possessiveness in your voice. "Yeah, if you wanna get to him, you have to go through me first."

Rhys looks down at you with a smirk, nodding proudly at the fact that you're claiming him for everyone to see.

Your hands travel from his abs to his neck as you bring him down for a long, sweet kiss.

He grabs your hips, pulling you closer for a heated makeout session, but you pull back before he can take it further

“He’s the best big brother ever in this world.”

Rhys immediately lets go of you, taking a step back with a horrified look before he desperately looks into the camera, then back to you, who can't keep from laughing.

"Out of all your practical jokes, this has got to be the worst one ever," Rhys protests, shaking his head. "No, I'm not her brother. We're mated, and what we do is very far away from sibling stuff."

He says the last bit to the camera with a broad smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

⊹ AZRIEL

"What should I say, sweetheart?" Azriel asks

"Nothing, Az. Just stand there and let me do the work," you reply affectionately.

"I've heard that one before," he says with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes, suppressing a smile, as you press the record button.

He immediately draws closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You smile up at him, mischief hidden behind your eyes.

“This man is mine, and if you want to get to him, you gotta go through me first, right?”

Azriel is filled with cringe and makes this face😲

“Oh! Um, yeah. That’s right.” he says, voice too high

Listen, he loves you but he is wondering how the fuck you’re not criniging out rn too. Like are you serious?

You squish his cheeks together and plant a dramatic, loud kiss on his lips.

“He is the best big brother ever.”

Azriel smiles, leaning in to kiss you again while casting a glance at the camera.

“No, she’s the best little sister ever.”

Your jaw drops at the sudden twist; he has stolen your prank.

“Damn it Az, you can’t let me have one thing?”

He shrugs, “Says the one with the incest prank.”

⊹ CASSIAN

“Cassie, just stand there, i’m going to record us. You don’t have to do anything, okay?”

“Alright, baby.”

You see Cassian behind you checking out your ass through the camera as you press record, backing into him

“Just a PSA, this is my man and if you wanna get to him, you gotta go through me first.” you said exaggerated with your hands on your hips before kissing him deeply

He smirked suspiciously before soaking up your posessivness. But before you could say your other line, he picked you up with one arm, throwing you over his sturdy shoulder as he walked over to your bed

“Wha- Cassian, we were recording!”

“Okay, we can keep recording. Make a fun little video, just the two of us.” he said with a low, lustfilled voice.

You didn’t even bother continuing the prank as you nodded, intrigued by making a whole different sort of video

You just prank him another time, right now you need big dick hot guy general massive wingspan big tattooed arms deep voice nice abs pullable hair daddy cassian (real asf)

⊹ LUCIEN

He already knows what you’re going to do but he plays along

You tug him to stand infront of your camera

The way he looks at you, makes you want to laugh but you bite your tongue

You pull him in closer by his forearm, holding him as you look into the camera

“This is my man so if you want him you will have to go though me first.”

Lucien supresses his smile at your attempt at a joke

“Yeah, you heard her,” he nods determined at the screen

You then pull him down and just as you’re about to kiss him you burst out laughing

Lucien tilts his down at you in mock confusion

“Is something funny? I thought i was the best brother ever, laughing at me isn’t very nice.”

Your eyes widen at him, jaw dropped. “No way, Luc, you knew?”

“Baby, i’m as chronically online as you are.”

⊹ ERIS

“What is this for?”

“For me, please just stand there and we’ll be good to go.”

He is a bit skeptical but listens nonetheless

“Very well. Go on, love.”

You press record and start the prank

“Hi guys, i just wanted to let you know that this is my man and if you ever wanna get to him you gotta go through me first.”

Eris looks at you a bit weird. He can’t take you seriously. The epitome of this face 😬

You grab his face and press a kiss to his lips. Eris warms at the action, smiling at you before his smile drop instantly

“He’s the best big brother ever.”

His entire face sours, a look of absolute disgust portraying his face.

“That right there is some Night Court shit.”

With that he simply leaves but not before scrunching his face in disbelief, sighing in disappointment

🏷️: @artists-ally @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @clairebear08 @cupidojenphrodite @redbleedingrose @fell-in-luvs

[cevansbrat0007]

The Scent of You

Summary: Ari loves the sweet scent of you, which is why he's content to live between your thighs.

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Begging, Oral Sex (fem rec), Pussy Spanking, Slight Chase Kink, Light D/s themes, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @curls-and-eyeliner. Hopefully this is okay, ya'll. I'm honestly not sure if it worked the way I intended. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s no secret that Ari adores you, but you’ve learned over the course of your relationship that he is particularly fond of the way you smell. Your natural essence of spiced, sugared vanilla draws him in like a moth to a flame. 

Which means he was always looking for a reason to touch you – to pull you close and breathe you in. Whether he’s hauling you against his broad chest to bury his nose in your hair while you’re cooking dinner, or he’s busy cascading soft, sweet kisses along the delicate column of your throat when you’re both snuggled up on the couch.

Your scent is like a drug. It calls to him – like a siren’s song – demanding that your handsome Bounty Hunter give in and help himself to his next hit. 

This man is hooked on you and it’s honestly one of the most exhilarating things you’ve ever experienced. Growing up, you’d never dreamed someone would desire you like this; that anyone would want you in such an all-consuming way.

“I’m going to burn the chicken if you don’t cut it out.” You hum, smiling when you feel his brawny arms tighten around your waist. “And then we won’t have anything to eat but mashed potatoes and asparagus.”

“Mm. Then maybe we’ll just have to order-in.” His warm lips dance along your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Beast.” You try again, intending to issue a light reprimand. Instead your voice comes out soft and breathy. 

“You can feed me my dessert while we wait.” Ari’s long, talented fingers travel to the waistband of your pink sleep shorts, lightly tugging at the drawstring. “Just think about it.” You briefly lose your train of thought as you find yourself trying to remember if you were even wearing panties. 

You’re pretty sure that you’d neglected to put them on again after your shower. At the time, you’d told yourself that you were trying to save yourself from having to make another trip to Victoria’s Secret. 

It wasn’t your fault that your Beast wasn’t always house-trained. He was the kind of man who had a propensity for ripping off your underthings and tucking them into his pocket. Which meant you often had to make adjustments to your wardrobe.       

And all of it because the scent of your arousal drove him wild.   

Your musings are interrupted when a sudden pop of grease splashes out of the cast iron skillet, just missing both you and your man. “Alright, hands to yourself now, Beast. We’re working around hot oil and I’d feel terrible if you got hurt.” 

Jesus H. Christ, you should’ve picked another day to fry this incorrigible man some chicken.

Ari nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, gently nipping at your pulse point. “I just need a fix, baby. One little hit and I’ll be good for the rest of the night.”

“Ari…” You blow out an exasperated breath as you reach for your tongs to flip your meat. “You don’t even know if I’ve showered or not today.”

“Don’t care.” He grunts, one big hand reaching into your shorts to possessively cup your increasingly damp pussy. “You know I love how you smell. Almost as much as I love the way you taste.” Ari lips move on to kiss along the shell of your ear. A shudder courses through you when he tugs the sensitive load between his sharp teeth.

“I’m proud to wear my girl.”

Your thighs clench of their own accord, your empty walls clenching around nothing. Apparently your body was just as hungry for him as he was for you.

“Y–you can’t go around just saying things like that.” It comes out as a whimper as your cheeks heat, meanwhile Ari busies himself with grinding the heel of his lightly calloused palm against your already throbbing clit. 

“Why not, Duchess? Am I being too crass for you?” He teases as his free hand comes up to knead your breast, squeezing with just the amount of roughness he knew made your knees weak. “Turn that shit off and come feed me. I’ve been dying to get between those thighs all fuckin’ day.”

“But–but…” Your eyes flutter closed even as you reach for the knob that controls the burner, switching it off. Maybe he was right. You hated to waste this, but you could always try again another day.

Preferably on a night when your very persistent Beast was working late. 

“There we go. I knew my woman wasn’t the type to let me go hungry.” Ari murmurs, releasing his grip on your now very wet pussy in favor of tugging down your shorts. A growl rumbles deep in his throat as he watches them fall to the ground at your feet. “I knew you couldn’t be that mean.”

“You owe me chicken alfredo from Guiseppe’s, you animal.” You snarl, removing the pan from the heat. 

“Consider it done, baby.” You could tell without looking at him that he was obviously pleased with himself. 

God this man was an absolute menace. But he was yours, which meant you had to keep him. Hell, you were pretty sure that if you ever tried to put him up for adoption you were pretty sure he’d find his way home. 

Back to you. Wherever you were.

Feeling bold, you wiggle out of the Bounty Hunter’s grasp, only to be surprised when he lets you go. 

“Bet you can’t catch me.” You challenge, making a sudden dash for the stairs. 

Of course you knew he’d catch you. But sometimes you liked running from your Beast – because he was the type to always give chase which would only add spice to the proceedings.    

And just like you knew he’d be, your Bounty Hunter is on you before you reach the fourth step. A scream escapes you – but you both know it’s one of excitement. After all, Ari Levinson was every inch the predator. It’s why you lovingly referred to him as “your Beast”.

“Gotcha now, Duchess.” He hisses, a heady mix of exhilaration and pride coursing through his veins. And that’s when you finally notice the impressive tent hidden beneath the fabric of his light gray sweats. 

God, you had a feeling this man was gonna wreck you tonight. You just hoped you’d be able to walk in a straight line come tomorrow morning. 

Ari takes that moment to flip you over before gently maneuvering your body in such a way that allows you to slide down a couple of steps.

“Yeah, you caught me.” You breathe, your body aching for him. And then you part your thighs, feeling more than a little empowered when you notice the way his imperious gaze darkens with lust at the sight of your glistening cunt. “Now…what are you going to do with me?” 

Grabbing the edge of your nightshirt, you slowly pull it over your head, baring your breasts. If this man wanted you and was so willing to *ruin* your dinner for it, then who were you to deny him?   

Immediately, Ari buries his face between your slick covered thighs, his powerful hands coming up to quickly throw your legs over his muscled shoulders. A deep, satisfied groan of appreciation escapes his throat as he sucks your pulsing clit into his warm, waiting mouth.

“Holy shit!” You cry, burying your hands in his soft, chestnut strands. “Sir, please!” Your body begins to tremble as you’re treated to the most sensual of assaults.  

One thick finger gently prods at your entrance, seeking refuge in your slippery cunt. At the same time, you feel Ari release your sensitive bundle of nerves, content to lap at it with his wicked tongue.

“That's it now. Fuckin' drench me, Bird.” He orders softly, his voice coming out slightly muffled.

And then pauses he pauses again – this time to nuzzle his nose against your slippery folds. Your entire body quivers when he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and reveling in your wetness. 

“My fuckin’ pussy.” Ari snarls, his flat tongue dragging a long, greedy swipe along your cunt. “Mine.” He pulls away long enough to slap your core in silent demand.  

“Fuck yes!” You agree, eagerly rocking your hips in time with each delicious lash of his tongue. He swirls it over your little bundle of nerves, making your toes curl.

“Would wear you all day if you’d let me.” His nimble fingers begin to work you over, stretching you in the way he knew would make you crazy. “Proud to wear my girl.”

“Omigosh!Omigosh!Omigosh!” You wail, your velvety walls clenching around his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you. 

“Promise to always feed me when I need it, little Bird.” You feel his teeth lightly graze your clit once more, loving the way it makes you thrash and moan.

That’s right. This man was breaking you down on your living room stairs. And it was so good that you couldn’t even be bothered to make yourself give a proper fuck. 

Dear God, this was the most exquisite kind of pleasure.

“Don’t you dare let me starve.” His fingers curve inside you, expertly finding your spot.

Holy fucking shit your man was making one hell of compelling argument, as evidenced by sweet cries and your shaking legs. 

“Never.” Your thighs tighten around his head, threatening to smother him even as you gush around him. 

Just the way you knew he fucking loved.     

“There we go -- yeah, that’s it.” Ari rasps, smacking your right flank, reveling in the way you clench around him as you continue to ride his face. Meanwhile, you’re busy writhing in your man’s arms, trying not to escape his grasp as that familiar coil of pleasure begins to tighten in your belly.

You know he knows you’re close. So he picks up his pace, clearly enjoying the way you’re coming apart under his feral loving. 

“I just need one good one from you – just one good one to start. And then I’m gonna give you my cock.” He increases the pace of his fingers, not missing the way your head is thrown back in complete submission. “And after that, I’ll order you dinner.” 

“Fuck, Beast!” You pant, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. "Whatever you fucking say - ooh!" Your open palm slaps against the wall as you try to run. But his grip is too strong.

Instead he simply chuckles before pausing his feast long enough to press one hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh - his teeth scraping over your damp flesh as he takes you higher and higher.

“And while we wait, I’m gonna go ahead feed you my cock.” He quips with a feral flash of teeth. “And don’t worry,  I’ll make sure you eat every bite.”

END

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[jasmineoolongtea]

hihiiii i hope ur doing amazing rn may i req megumi or yuji with a s/o who acts like jade west? you can make it hcs or a one shot idm

a/n: hiiiii anon i hope you're doing well too!! when you say a reader who acts like jade west (man victorious was a trip thinking back on it fdjfjhs) i assume that you're talking about her personality traits and etc so i hope i do your request justice for both of them ☆ ～('▽^人)

fushiguro megumi

okay, imagine you put two prickly hedgehogs with each other and that's kinda you and megumi's relationship

overall, you guys together exude a very intimidating atmosphere, especially with your shared affinity for wearing dark colours

gojo, yuji and nobara like to joke that you're the resident class emos (much to megumi's chagrin)

you and megumi are similar yet so different because it's like you're the more outspoken version of him in a way

like you and megumi have quite prickly personalities but it's just that you're much more willing to just blatantly push people away verbally

one thing megumi loves about is your rebellious spirit and he thinks that it's deeply admirable that you're so willing to push forward on your own way despite what cards you might have been given or what other people think you should do

both of you are petty people, just one of you is more vocal about it than the other, and this is awful for basically anyone who isn't the two of you but you two could honestly care less for the most part

megumi knows it's bad and that he probably should be better than this but he doesn't really do much to help de-escalate any conflicts you might find yourself in, rather he quietly cheers for you from the sidelines and even steps in to help you if you need it (it's his middle school past that's speaking to him through you)

he's the only person to truly understand you and your fears and insecurities which is part of the reason for why you're so possessive of him and megumi gets this so that's why he doesn't think it's reasonable to give you such a hard time about it

when it's just you and him behind closed doors, you're definitely much more open with your affections and self with him and he loves these quiet moments with you since he feels much more comfortable with expressing himself as well

no one believes that there could be anyone who could rival your sassiness but honestly, megumi could give you a run for your money with his own sassy off-handed comments (except for gojo, that poor man has had first-hand experience with megumi's sassy side from young)

megumi's always there to be your rock and bring you back down whenever your ego gets a bit too much or it just seems like everything is intent on making you angry or more annoyed and ticked off than usual

very few people are aware of this but you have a soft spot for kids and megumi is glad that he's able to witness this side of you

if your friends and all the people who knew you were to rank what they thought were unlikely combinations of things together, you and kids would definitely be somewhere high on that list. unless you were megumi since his opinion strongly differed from everyone else's stance. well, it also helped that he had insider knowledge on this one that everyone else lacked.

you and megumi were out on a date at an amusement park since you both won free tickets from a lucky draw, with you insisting that this was the only reason that you were here and totally not because of anything else, when you suddenly felt a tug coming from the bottom of your pants leg.

looking down to find the source of the sudden disturbance, you notice that two little hands are hanging onto the fabric of your pants for dear life as a small snot-nosed and teary-eyed girl, probably no older than the age of 6, tries her best to get your attention. you and megumi exchange a look of confusion and slight concern as you both wonder what could possibly be the cause of this young kid's distress.

you let of megumi's hand in order to kneel down to the girl's height as you quickly examine her in an attempt to find any obvious cuts or bruises that might need attention. when that angle fails, you decide to just outright ask her, "what's wrong little one?" compared to your usual tone of voice which is biting and aggressive, your question comes off much more careful and gentle as you try your best to offer her some comfort.

"c-can you help me?" the child chokes out, clearly trying her best to articulate her words despite her wobbly lip and red eyes that look like they're about to burst out in tears at any second.

you nod calmly at her, even offering her a small smile to encourage her to keep speaking. she visibly relaxes at your demeanour and tries to compose herself as she mumbles something under her breath, slightly too soft to the point where you're struggling to hear her.

"hmm? you've gotta speak up, sweetheart." you remark softly and she shys away slightly, as if embarrassed that you couldn't hear her. slowly reaching out to her, you gently take her much smaller hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze to nudge her to try again, just a little bit louder this time.

she uses her other free hand to wipe away the tears running down her pillowy cheeks before looking back at you with a renewed sense of determination. "c-can you help me find my parents? i-i think i lost them somewhere here."

"of course we can, hon." you reply and you stand up back to your usual height. you make an 'up' motion to her to ask if you can pick her up. she nods and you scoop her up in your arms as you introduce her to megumi, even getting her to laugh a little bit when he lets her play with his hair for a bit, before the two, or well three of you, make your way around the park in the search for her parents.

unbeknownst to you, while you were occupied with the little girl, you had a secret admirer in the form of megumi as he quietly watched on from the sidelines, unable to fight off a smile and look of fondness as he saw firsthand another side of you that only he and a few other people were privileged to find out about, something he deeply cherishes.

itadori yuji

okay total sunshine x grumpy dynamic or even black cat x golden retriever here

honestly, when people see you guys together out and about there's a lot of confusion from them about how you two even got together in the first place since you seem like such polar opposites

it was kinda a shock for megumi and nobara a bit as well at the beginning of your relationship but as time passed, they eventually began to see how you guys ultimately complement each other

you guys bond over your love for movies, specifically horror movies and surprisingly, you also enjoy watching human earthworm (but you make yuji swear to never reveal this to anyone as it's basically a guilty pleasure of yours)

one thing about you that yuji loves is your unapologetic confident attitude and how you never shy away from most things which is something he admires about you

he's also your no. 1 public defender, ready to come to your defence at any second (even if you might be in the wrong but that's for a very nice convo for only behind closed doors), and this forever warms your heart and helps to quell many of your insecurities

he makes it a point to always reassure you about your relationship since he knows how you can struggle with jealousy alongside the fact that you're scared of losing one of the few people who actually see you for who you are

you're used to people writing you off as one thing, even going so far as to do the complete opposite to spite them, but yuji sees past your initial front and knows how sensitive and hard-working you can be deep down

it's a known fact that you are not a fan of physical touch, even from your close friends, but yuji is the exception to this rule as he can just throw himself onto you at any time and you're completely fine with it (even fighting off a small smile which you swear is just a hallucination on their part)

yuji is one of the very few people able to calm you down when someone or something just ends up inevitably annoying you and puts you in a bad mood

like the effect he has on you is almost instantaneous that it gives whiplash to most people who are there to witness it

out of all the days that the universe chooses to ruin, of course, it has to be the day where you're just trying to enjoy a nice day out with your boyfriend, yuji.

you're sitting on a bench, waiting for yuji who went to buy you and him some drinks from the nearby vending machine, as you attempt to soak in the nice afternoon breeze when a random passerby suddenly bumps into your knees on their walk.

an accidental, or not-so-accidental, bump might have been kinda excusable if the other party had decided to make a deeply regretful apology but a scoff and mumbled 'whatever' was definitely not an apology in any sense of the word. it was as if they were trying to intentionally piss you off or something.

it would almost be an insult to you as a person if you were going to let this go and let it be water under the bridge or whatever other stupid saying they have for situations like this. you stand up from your seated position, arms crossed in front of your chest as you make your way towards the perpetrator.

"you want to say that to my face?" you ask, though your voice is more demanding than anything.

any retort that the other person might have thrown your way is instantly thrown out of the window when they notice your deadly expression and gaze, almost as if you're daring them to even say anything. they try to take a step back in an attempt to escape the situation but you don't let them have such an easy out as you take a step forward in return.

they meekly mumble something under their breath. you raise a brow at them. pathetic, you think to yourself, can't even have the guts to back themselves up.

but before you can get right in their face, a head of pink hair magically appears by your side from somewhere in your peripheral vision. there's a familiar weight on your shoulder as you quickly realise that it's yuji and it's like a switch has been flipped inside of you as you jump right into his arms, to which he happily returns your affection tenfolds.

the other person is simply left bewildered at your sudden change in attitude within the span of what feels like less than 5 seconds as their face is twisted into an almost comical look of confusion. you pay them no mind thought for now, simply relishing in the feeling of yuji's arms around your waist as he presses sporadic kisses around your face.

he stops for a moment to glance at the other person before looking back at you and asking "who's that?"

you brush off his question with ease. "no one important." you reply and yuji nods as if your answer is simply a fact.

a sigh escapes you as you glance sideways at the other person. "you're so lucky my boyfriend is here." you mutter pointedly at them, gritting your teeth whilst you do so. you mouth to them 'count your days', with an exaggerated knife to the throat motion to seal the deal, from over your shoulder as you and yuji walk away together, hand in hand.

[badasmuse]

“Drunk and Possessive”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: 18+(MDNI), language, drunk!bada, possessive!bada, lowercase intended, violence, suggestive if you squint, name calling (from outsiders), no relationship (yet)

Summary: bada takes you to a party and man she’s never been more angry.

A request so no song

bada has had a crush on you for so long. she’s your best friend and has been since you met on the playground after some little asshole was bullying you so she kicked sand in her face. even tho there’s six years between you two, you don’t let it bother you. you’re still besties for the resties.

but despite being able to read her like a book, you’re completely oblivious to her so disgustingly obvious crush. she’d do anything for you. literally anything. she proved that when one time you were walking in the park and thought it would be funny to go, “i bet you won’t grab that squirrel.” big mistake on your end cause the mf went and grabbed the squirrel and it bit her.

“you’re a fucking idiot why would you grab the squirrel?” you said driving her to the hospital.

“you told me to.” she said pouting, holding her bleeding hand close to her chest.

you’ve also had a crush on bada for awhile but you hide it from everyone. you didn’t think you were her type. you weren’t a dancer, you don’t have any real talent, you’re an art major but you don’t even think you can draw that well. (even tho you’re absolutely amazing to anyone else. especially bada.)

speaking of bada and art, you just left ceramics class, your last class of the day, and guess who’s outside with your favorite biggby drink and a soft pretzel.

“hey.” bada says softly as you approach her.

“you don’t understand how bad i needed this.” you say throwing your bag in the backseat and hugging bada tight, planting a light kiss on her cheek before taking the coffee and pretzel.

bada blushes and opens the door for you, grabbing your arm to help you in. “i don’t understand how you wear those heels.” she mumbles before closing the door and getting in the driver’s seat.

“i wear them to match your height. you’re too tall.”

she chuckles and starts driving. “you wanna come to a party with me tonight?”

“what i tell you about this last minute shit bada?” you say rolling your eyes.

“i know i know a week in advance. but like.. you’re not doing anything. might as well come.” she says pinching your cheek.

“i guess so.” you groan. “fine i’ll go. what time? what should i wear?”

“whatever you want.” bada pulls into the lot of your shared apartment and obviously goes around to open the door for you grabbing your hand to help you out.

“bada you’re such a gentleman.” you giggle going to grab your bag but she beats you to it.

“come on, angel.” she says walking behind you with a hand on your back. like she always does.

a few hours later, you’re out the shower and standing in front of the mirror wondering what to wear. you have two options and you don’t want to ask bada cause man- that woman is no help. none at all.

you settle on the short black dress and pair it with ankle boots, obviously heeled. you do a quick smokey eye look to match the dress and finally put it on pouting as you reach for the zipper but it’s just out of reach, barely touching your fingertips.

“bada~” you call out, the pout evident in your voice.

“yes?” she walks in fully dressed looking like a tall glass of water and all of a sudden, you’re thirsty.

but you’d never say that.

“can you zip this for me?” you give her doe eyes knowing she wouldn’t say no in the first place but they add character.

she walks behind you and gently pulls the zipper up and man the electricity that went through you when her long fingers brushed against your back.

“you look good.” bada comments looking at you through the mirror.

“thanks i’m hoping to find someone tonight. hopefully a relationship but a hookup is just as good.”

bada’s jaw clenches and she clears her throat, “let’s go.” she mumbles walking downstairs to get her shoes and keys.

you follow her grabbing your shoes and blushing when bada kneels to put them on for you and zip them up.

like girl how can you not see she in love with you???

———

once you arrive at the party, bada immediately goes to get a drink. you follow and pull her down so she can hear you, “don’t drink too much bada.” you whisper and she just nods.

you get yourself a drink and leave to find someone to dance with. you find yourself in the middle dancing with a group of people.

bada watches, standing next to lusher and tatter with a pout on her face.

“you know,” lusher starts, “if you just told her you love her she wouldn’t be all over them she’d be all over you.”

“if she feels the same way.” tatter added which she immediately regretted cause if looks could kill… yeah.

time passes and bada has had way too many. she can barely stand up straight and her speech is beyond slurred, she’s practically incoherent. not to mention her vision is incredibly blurry.

despite all that, she does see the guy that approaches you and starts dancing with you. you’re having a great time and bada is pissed.

she pushes herself off the wall and stumbles over to you and the guy. “hey.” she slurs separating you two.

“bada what are you doing?” you ask holding onto her as she slings her arm around you.

“she’s my girlfriend. back.. back off.” she says pushing the guy back.

“she’s been dancing with everyone in here.”

“mhm and i’m putting a stop to it. she’s mine. fuck off.”

“go ahead keep her. but in my opinion, if she’s gonna act like a whore i’d just pass her off.” he shrugs.

that sobered bada right up.

she runs a hand down her face, cocks her arm back, and swings. hitting the man full force in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“BADA!” you yell, barely able to hold her anymore. you quickly drag her outside and make her sit down on the curb. “what is your problem?” you ask, inspecting her hand.

“my problem? you. you’re my problem. you’re so fucking… oblivious. i’m in love with you and you’re constantly flirting with other people and sleeping with other people. you’re mine. i don’t want anyone else touching you the way i should be touching you!” bada grabs your hand and drags you towards her car.

“what are you doing?” you whispered.

“showing you that you’re mine.”

part 2 maybe?

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Love To Watch You Leave: Part 4

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Bullying, Eventual Smut, Grieving, Pining, Alcohol, Military Inaccuracies

- Part 3 Here -

——————————

18+ Only

——————————




You grew uneasy as Angie pulled you around the back of the guest house, away from the noise of the party and away from prying eyes… away from anyone who could help.




“Angie, is this really necessary?” You huffed, your arms crossed over your chest as you inspected your surroundings.




She was quiet for a moment, and in the dark you couldn’t make out her expression. Suddenly, startling you, she exclaimed, “Oh Y/N, I am so sorry! You’re gonna hate me, and I don’t want to be the one to wreck something good, but…” her lip began to tremble and her fingers clasped together as if in prayer.




Your eyebrows creased together, “Angie are you okay?”




“I’m a home wrecker!” She suddenly wailed, loudly. “I didn’t know he was in a relationship! I had no idea you existed until today, but he… that man, he slept with me a little over a week ago. I’m so sorry.” She was full on sobbing at this point, her high pitched cries carrying far.




You tried to shush her, not wanting to draw attention to this situation, “Hey, no, please don’t cry. Uhm… please, it’s okay… shhh…”




You tried to calm her down and you even rubbed her back like your mom used to do when you were a kid, to calm you down, but nothing worked.




“I s-swear, he never ever mentioned you.” She cried. You internally rolled your eyes at her need to state that.




“I wouldn’t have ever gone near him if I knew.” She sobbed, and then another high pitched wail escaped her lips as she cried into her hands.




“Angie, please, shhhh. Angie… ANGIE! Bradley and I aren’t even together, okay?” You blurted out.




Suddenly you clasped your hand over your mouth, and Angie stopped crying, looking at you in surprise.




“What? But I thought-“




You shook your head, “Okay, look, you can’t tell anyone, but… Bradley and I need to pretend we’re together, just until Sunday. I can’t explain why, but it’s so important nobody finds out.”




She sniffled, “Why? What’s happening on Sunday?”




“We’re staging a break up, we just have to pretend while we’re here, so… you’re not a home wrecker.” You have her a sympathetic smile. You suddenly felt sorry for her, you hadn’t expected her to have this side to her. At least she was honest.




“Okay… I feel so much better now.” She giggled through her snotty nose and tears. “So… does that mean Bradley’s available?”




You took a deep breath in through your nose to calm your sudden pang of annoyance, “Yup. He’s all yours… after Sunday, okay?”




Angie nodded and threw herself onto you for a hug. You awkwardly rubbed her back.




“Do me a favour, Angie? Give me a few minutes to tell Bradley, I don’t want to throw this at him.”




She nodded, and you both rejoined the party.




Bradley came jogging over to you, “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”




“I was gone like 5 minutes, possessive much?”




“Anything could have happened, I was just scared you’d run off with Bob or something.”




You suddenly laughed, a bit surprised, “Brad, are you a little jealous of Bob?”




“No.”




“You sure? You seem a little jealous.” You poked a finger into his side teasingly.




“Shut up. You’re being a child.” He flinched away from you, but you kept poking him until he cracked a smile.




“Hey, I need to talk to you.” You admitted, “Can we go somewhere?”




Bradley eyed you up suspiciously, “Okay sure, where to?”




You dragged him back around the same corner, and Bradley was now beginning to worry.




“Look, if this is about the kiss earlier…”




“No.” You cut him off by shaking your head, “Nothing like that. Angie knows.”




Bradley almost did a double take, his jaw ticking, “I’m sorry, what?” He hissed.




“She started crying, like really really crying, saying she was a home wrecker and that she was sorry, and I couldn’t just let her believe that. She won’t tell anyone.”




Bradley rubbed his face in frustration, “Y/N, you can’t trust Angie. That’s why we broke up in the first place.” He sighed.




You were about to ask him to elaborate when Angie popped around the corner.




“There you guys are! Not fake kissing again I hope?” She winked comically, “Dinners starting, come!” She beckoned for you to follow, so you looked at Bradley expectantly.




He took a deep breath and nodded, “We’ll finish this conversation later.”




You sat down at the same long table and fell into easy conversation under the decorative lighting, relaxing slightly. Your eyes kept straying over to Bradley who was already looking at you, but you couldn’t figure out his expression. Frustration? Maybe. Anxiety? Probably. Annoyance? Definitely.




You felt bad for telling your secret, but you would have felt worse if Angie had thought she was the bad guy all weekend.




Once all 3 courses had come and gone, you were free to mingle and everyone changed seats to have conversations with other people. You stayed put, not really feeling up for being told off by Bradley. You sipped slowly at your drink as you watched everyone mingle. Bradley was on the other end of the table talking to Harris, probably spinning more yarn on your tall tale, when you felt someone’s presence next to you.




You looked over at what was previously an empty seat to find Bob, he smiled over at you.




“Hey, I’m sober now.” He announced with a chuckle. He really was quite cute, a traditionally handsome face and stunning blue eyes.




“Ah, pity, I thought you were quite a funny drunk.” You joked with a grin.




“I’ll go and grab some wine in that case.”




You laughed lightly at his humour, “Nice to meet you, Sober Bob.”




“Likewise.”




You spoke to Bob for about 10 minutes, getting better acquainted without giving away too much yourself.




“So do you work with Bradley?” You probed.




Bob nodded, pressing his lips together.




“What?” You chuckled curiously.




“Nothing, he’s just… how long have you two been together, out of curiosity?” Bobs eyebrows were ever so slightly drawn together in concern.




“Uhm… 6… 6 months.” You nodded, “How come?”




Bob took a deep breath and thought for a second, before nodding back slowly and giving you a sympathetic smile.




“I don’t think it’s my place.” He mumbled.




“Come on Bob, whatever it is, you can tell me.” You poked him light heartedly to lighten the mood.




Bob shifted uncomfortably in seat, eyeing up Bradley on the other end of the table, as he bit his lip, before turning back to you and leaning in close.




“I’m so sorry in advance for any hurt this is gonna cause… but Y/N, Bradley’s been cheating on you. Kinda openly too, he brings dates to the bar we frequent all the time, the last one being no more than a couple of weeks ago.”




You tried to force back a grin, you were very taken by how kind Bob and Angie had both been trying to make you aware of your fake boyfriends antics, but you knew you had to play the part of heartbroken girlfriend, and you thought for a second, Bingo, this was what you and Bradley would break up over.




You sat up straight, forcing a frown. “Oh wow.” You said, feigning surprise. “I… I can’t believe he would do this to me, after everything.”




You wiped at dry eyes and stood from your seat, putting on a broken voice, “Thank you for telling me, Bob. You did the right thing. I just need a moment.”




Bob watched you with sad eyes as you walked down the end of the table, partially regretting his actions.


You reached the end where Bradley stood in heated debate with Harris over some recent football game.




“Honey can I speak to you for a moment?” The question was only out of courtesy, you were already grabbing his lapels and pulling him towards the guest house with you.




“We’ll…finish this conversation later.” He said as you dragged him away.




“What are you doing?” He hissed at you.




You let go of him and as soon as you were sure you were out of everyone’s sight, you grinned.




Bradley cocked his head at your new expression, “Y/N…”




“We have an out.” You grinned proudly, summoning him to follow you back to your bedroom.




You closed the door behind you and urged him to sit on the bed.




“Can you just spit it out already?”




“Ok fine, fine! So Bob just sat me down and-“




“Yeah I know, you two just can’t keep your hands off of each other tonight can you?” He interrupted you, his eyes rolled as he leaned back against his elbows.




You looked at him with a deadpan expression, “Brad, come on, focus.”




“Sorry.” He mumbled.




“So, Bob kindly informed me that…” you held back a snort as you tried not to laugh, “that you’ve been cheating on me. He was very surprised that we’ve been together 6 months because you’ve been bringing girls to the bar, and I can only imagine doing obscene things with them.”




“That little snitch.” Bradley sat up right.




You rolled your eyes and ignored him, “So now we have a legit excuse to break up on Sunday.”




“I’m gonna kill him.” He was huffing now, not even looking at you.




You walked up to where he sat on the bed and placed your hands on his shoulders.




“Look dickwad, we’re not actually together so he didn’t really snitch you out. I mean… he did, but he did the right thing so you can’t really blame him.”




Bradley looked up at you with big brown eyes and nodded glumly. “I know, I know.”




“So, how do you wanna do this thing? Wanna pretend tonight and tomorrow that we’re working through things? And then Sunday I can throw a hissy fit and end things?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him playfully.




He chuckled, his hands landing on your waist. You held your breath for a second.




“You never used to be this funny.” He stated, his smile returning.




“Actually, I’ve always been funny.” You grabbed his hands and removed them from your waist as you stepped back and walked over to the mirror. “You’ve just never given me the time of day.”




Bradley’s eyes followed you and he grinned back at you in the mirror as you smirked at him.




“I’m sorry.” He said.




You turned your head to look at him properly, “What?”




“For what it’s worth, I never actually hated you.”




You turned back to inspect your makeup, “Well, I hated you. But… that’s faded more to an intense dislike now.” You joked.




Bradley stood up and walked behind you, eyeing you up in the reflection. He stood silently for a few seconds, so you stopped what you were doing.




“Brad, are you okay?”




He nodded, his jaw clenching, and one of his hands moved your hair to adjust your dress strap again.




“Was uneven again.” He mumbled.




You weren’t sure if it was the wine or if you were just losing your mind, but for some reason you turned around to face Bradley, the space between you already too tight, and leaned against the dresser under the mirror.




You could feel Bradley’s hot breath fanning down on your face, literal inches away.




“I don’t actually hate you. Not anymore.” You admitted softly as you looked up at him.




“I thought you said it was an intense dislike?” He chuckled softly, and again that damn hand landed on your satin waist.




“You’ve really grown up, Brad.” Your hand flattened against his chest, whether to feel him under you or to push him away you weren’t entirely sure.




His hand squeezed your waist gently and your heart began to thud.




“Y/N I-“




Suddenly he was rudely interrupted by a loud pounding on the door and he stepped back quickly, you took a deep breath, regaining some sense.




Bradley walked to the door and opened it.




“You guys! I might have accidentally maybe told Bob.” Angie walked into your room like it was her own, biting her rouge nails, her big blue eyes like a puppy dog that knew it had done something wrong.




You looked at Bradley with wide eyes, and then suddenly at the door when you noticed Bob standing there, awkwardly.




“Ah fuck.”




——————————




You now found yourself standing awkwardly next to Bradley in front of Bob and Angie, trying to explain how you’d gotten yourself into this predicament.




Bradley glared at Bob, still pissed off that Bob had ratted on him. Angie stared lovingly at Bradley, biting her lip at how his neck veins strained under his clenched jaw. Bob stared at you, wondering how soon would be too soon to ask you out.




“Guys, is anyone listening to me?” You moaned impatiently.




A chorus of “mhm” and “yep” came from the group.




“Ok so we’re clear on the fact that no one can tell anyone else about this? Or Bradley and I are toast.” You we’re starting to stress now, and you clasped your hand over your forehead in an attempt to cool it down.




Bradley looked at you, worried, and then at the clock on the wall that read 11:15pm. “Maybe we should call it a night, guys. It’s been a bit of a long day.”




Bob and Angie said goodnight and Bradley closed the door behind them, his forehead resting on the closed door as he sighed.




He turned to watch you pace up and down the room.




“Hey, can you calm down, please? Everything’s gonna be ok.”




“I dunno, I have a really bad feeling.” You bit your thumbnail nervously, and then sat down heavily on the bed and plopped your head in your hands. “God, what have I done?” You groaned.




Bradley quickly moved to sit next to you and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Would you just relax, please? Nothing bad is gonna happen, I promise.”




You looked up at him through your fingers, “Not gonna lie, this side of you is kinda freaking me out.”




Bradley chuckled a sorry and removed his arm, and you sat up straight and huffed. “Ok, I think maybe you’re right. I’m gonna have a bath and get into bed, need to use the bathroom before I get in there?”




Bradley shook his head and made a start removing his shirt and pants to get into bed, which you quickly looked away from as you gathered your pyjamas from your bag.




You mumbled a ‘goodnight’ to Bradley, fully expecting him to be asleep by the time you were done, and you locked the bathroom door.




You drew a bubble bath and slid out of your dress, climbing into the warm water.




You sighed in relief as the water calmed stiff muscles and sore feet, and you quickly fell asleep.




The next thing you knew, you were waking up to the sound of someone banging violently on the door, the bubbles all gone and the water ice cold.




You shot out of the bath and wrapped a towel around you just in time for the door to fly open, the lock on the hinges breaking with a loud snap.




You let out a squeal of surprise, “What the fuck, Brad!”




Bradley’s expression was visibly relieved and his shoulders slumped. “Fuck, Y/N! I was calling you for like 10 minutes. You’ve been in there for 3 hours.”




You glanced over his shoulder at the clock that now read 2:25am.




You looked back at Bradley and pressed your lips together as a giggle tried to force its way out.




Bradley’s eyebrows creased, “That’s not funny.”




Too late, you were full on laughing now, doubled over and struggling to breathe.




Bradley had to stifle his own laughter, and he rolled his eyes. “Seriously who the fuck falls asleep in the bath for that long. Thought you died. Now I’m gonna have to pay for a new door.”




You managed to stop laughing eventually, wiping tears from your eyes, “I’m sorry, I was tired.” You explained.




You realised you still had a full face of makeup on, so you quickly washed it off in the sink and moisturised. You realised the door was not staying closed, and even with it pulled to, it would spring open a few inches without the lock in place.




“Don’t look.” You said to Bradley, who was back in bed around the corner. “I just need to put my PJ’s on.”




“Wouldn’t wanna anyway.” He said, regaining his breath and waiting for his heart rate to slow back down.




You discarded your towel and turned your back to the door as you pulled on your underwear and pyjama shorts.




Bradley caught a glimpse of your upper back and shoulder blades in the mirror opposite the bed and quickly diverted his eyes. He couldn’t help but look back every couple of seconds, admiring how your skin glowed in the yellow bathroom light.




You pulled on a white tank top and walked out of the bathroom while you brushed your hair.




“No, this isn’t gonna work.” You stated as you looked down at the bed, Bradley’s large frame taking up more than half of it.




“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” He stated.




You rolled your eyes, “Can you at least move over then?”




“To where? I’m already on the edge.”




You huffed, “No you’re not, you can easily move over a few inches, look.” You knelt on the bed and pushed Bradley’s side, trying to shift him further.




He would not move, the big oak heavier than you’d expected.




“What are you doing? Get off.” He tried to swat your hands away but you kept coming back and pushing, straining to get yourself a little bit more room.




“Move.” You grunted.




“Stop, you’re actually tickling me now.”




Frustrated with being tickled, he grabbed one of your wrists quickly, and you lost your balance, landing on top of Bradley with a ‘ooph’.




You quickly looked at him with wide eyes, something hard pressing against your hip.




“Sorry.” You whispered, and made a move to get up, but you were surprised when you felt his hand on your thigh and he pulled your leg over him.




“Brad, I don’t think… maybe I should sleep on the floor.” You stuttered, but you made no effort to move. Your face was so close to his now, even in the dark you could see how his heart pounded against his chest, and the veins in his neck pulsed. You gulped.




“Did you just gulp?” He chuckled lowly, his voice a husky whisper.




You nodded, and Bradley’s hand brushed your hair back over your should, his long fingers gently stroking your jaw.




You were acutely aware of his other hand which was still clasped around your thigh, and you wondered for a second how that hand might feel on other parts of your body.




You suddenly realised who you were thinking about, the man you hated for the better part of your life, and you gasped out loud, throwing yourself off of his torso and onto your back next to him.




You stared at the ceiling in horror.




“I think we should go to sleep.” You said maybe a fraction louder and more assertive than you needed to. The last thing you needed or wanted was to be Bradley Bradshaws newest plaything.




“Yeah, you’re right. Got enough room if I turn on my side?” He sighed.




“Yup. Goodnight.” You said quickly, turning away from him.




It took you forever to fall asleep that night, because all you could think about was how you were hot and flustered for your worst enemy, and how his boner was pressed into your lower back.




———————————

- Part 5 Here -

Taglist:

@dizzybee03 @cheyrenee @flowery-mess @wildxwidow @residentb1tch @championemmie @mycrofthomlesumbrella

[macabr3-barbi3]

loved this one WHEW 💕🥵

Tags: Daddy kink, that's it, that's the whole fic

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

The first time Vox calls himself ‘Daddy’ while you’re fucking him you freeze up so immediately that he thinks he’s done something wrong. “Fuck, baby, taking Daddy so well,” he had muttered in your ear, and the sharp, sudden swoop of arousal in your gut had caught you off guard, moan choking off into a high pitched whine as your body went still. He looks down at you, expression twisted in concern as he realizes what he had said and blushes, pixels going pink. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, and resumes railing you as normal, hand slipping between your bodies to rub at your clit. You bite your lip as you cum to hold back the title, head thrown back while Vox finds his own release and you wonder what to do with this new information.

You keep your distance for a few days, keeping occupied with busy work- you paint the living room of your shared floor in Vee Tower, offer to help Velvette with one of her shows, make sure that Valentino’s actors have a steady supply of food and drink in the studio. You don’t let Vox touch you for a week, despite your obvious need and his growing frustration. Finally on Sunday, when he lets Katie Killjoy take over the evening news, he comes home to the trap you’ve set. As soon as you hear the elevator door open with a ding you let out a loud moan from the bedroom, a siren call for Vox to come in and see you spread across the sheets of the bed you share, skin bared and your fingers working tirelessly between your legs. 

“H- hey baby,” he manages to get out, a glitch flashing across his screen as he approaches, fingers reaching for you before he’s even close enough to the bed to touch. “Fuck, look at you- soaked and ready for me, huh?” He slides a hand down the length of your thigh towards your core, swearing under his breath when you grab his hand and guide his fingers to the slick folds of your cunt.

“Please, Daddy,” you whine, and his fans let out a wheeze in place of an actual breath as he crouches over you, his screen dropping for a moment so you’re looking at the back of it instead of his face. 

When he looks back up to you his eyes are narrowed, mouth hanging open and his tongue out- he drags it up the length of your body from pelvis to tits, letting his sharp teeth scrape the sensitive nipple before he pulls off. He presses a finger into you, then a second when he finds that you’re already open and desperate. “Goddamn, doll, you didn’t have to blueball me all week for this,” he mutters. “You could’ve just asked- Daddy’s gonna give it to you either way.”

There’s the feeling again, that sharp shock of pleasure and arousal at the term, pussy clenching hard around his digits. “Please, I need it,” you whimper, and he pulls his fingers from your body and curls his tongue around them, using his other hand to line his cock up with your dripping slit and pushing in with a sharp thrust. “Oh fuck-”

“That’s right, sweetheart, Daddy’ll take care of you,” he growls, hooking his arms under your knees and dragging you further towards the edge of the bed. “So fucking perfect for me, taking my cock- you like that?” He slams his hips into you, fucking you with the conviction of a man possessed. Your fingers fly down to the bed, digging harsh lines into the sheets with the pressure from your claws.

“God, please,” you beg, already close on your own, the hard length of him spearing you hurtling you ever closer to that edge. “Daddy- Vox, please,”

He snarls, sharp teeth snapping as he leans in closer and folds you nearly in half. “Should’ve known- I thought you froze up ‘cause you were didn’t like it, baby, didn’t realize you were embarrassed by how much you fuckin’ wanted it.” He angles your hips, drives himself into you harder, faster, the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the room along with the groans and whimpers that he’s drawing from you.

“Fuck,” you whine, the words tearing from your mouth- you can almost feel the wave behind your eyes , waiting to crest, searching for that final shove to break the tension. “Fuck, gonna- please, Daddy, I need it-” Every time you say it his hips jerk, shoving more forcefully into your wet cunt, claws digging into the flesh of your hips.  

Vox’s left eye swirls, no power behind it, just showing how overwhelmed he is as well when he lets go of your leg on one side to rub forcefully at the bundle of nerves above your drenched pussy, where he’s got you stuffed full of him. “Go ahead, beautiful, cum on Daddy’s cock, show me how pretty-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, your keening cry as the pressure inside of you releases, drowning him out. Your soft walls clamp down on him, the rippling muscles pulling at the rigid length of his cock inside of you, coaxing him into his own orgasm right behind you. Your mind is fuzzy, but still aware enough that his grunts of “fuck baby, take Daddy’s cum, good girl” light up the pleasure center in your brain as he floods you in long pulses. His hips jerk and stutter against you until he finally collapses against you, screen pressed gently into your bare chest and leaving little kisses on your skin.

“Fuck me,” he says, and you can’t help but giggle, running your fingers over the little ports on the back of his head, relishing in his shiver at the touch. “Why didn’t you just tell me you liked it? You didn’t have to spring a trap.”

“God forbid a woman have hobbies.” He pulls out and flops onto the bed next to you, allowing you to roll and rest your head on his chest. “Besides, this was more fun.”

“You should greet Daddy like this after work more often then, doll-”

“Don’t fuckin’ push it,” you tell him, and his rumbling laughter where you’re pressed against him is relaxing, wrapping his arms around you in a firm, secure embrace.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I’m falling out of obsession love with konig..will you do me the favor and respark my love for him i need an obsessed in love man to match 😓

Word count: 1.9 k

Summary: He comes to see you after a mission.

CW: Mild smut, angst, fluff, emotions. +18 only

A/N: This is part of the Just Friends universe, but pov is 2nd person (you instead of she/her). I'm not sure if this is what you asked for anon...but it's what you're going to get 🥹 

Rain drums your window. You've left it open a crack, and should get up and close it, but you don't have the strength. You can't sleep, you can't get up: it's the wolf's hour and the mood is heavy like the rain clouds that have circled the base for hours now.

It's the first time you hear him breaking in. Well, technically speaking, he's not breaking in anymore, now that he has a key. But it always feels like he comes to see you when you least expect it.

The five-day mission has turned into a four-day and half a night mission, then.

You feign sleep and listen how he takes off his boots. He's illegally quiet without them for such a big man. His shirt meets the floor, then he opens his belt – you know he's about to come and ravish you, and for the first time since forever you are not up for it.

The bed lets out a terrible creak of a wail as he crawls next to you. You fear it's only a question of time before the old metal and wood give in under you two. It's basically a miracle the sturdy bunk hasn't yet broken into pieces from your love.

His length touches you first as he settles behind you. It's hot and hard, lean and sleek, like the rest of the man that soon surrounds you like a copper cable with a pulse. His hand is warm as it slips under the covers and under your shirt. Or actually, his shirt.

"I'm home," he half whispers the obvious. Calls your room his home… Or perhaps it's just you. You're his home now.

The hand drifts to your hip, and it's possessive: he always starts there. You win nothing by pretending to be the sleeping beauty, so your hand comes to rest on top of his.

"Did you have fun..?"

It's a bit of a sick question. But it is what it is. And what's more, he doesn't even answer it.

"I need a fresh pair, Engel," he says with an odd honey to his voice.  "The last one is completely ruined."

You know he's talking about another pair of panties, a comfort object and a lucky charm he takes with him now that he's back in the field again.

The rain taps the window, and the darkness of the room is only pierced by distant hues of blue. The base is never dark, never fully asleep. His hand drags the shirt up, then stops on your ribs.

"You have my shirt on."

It's not a scolding, not at all. It's only a happy, shocked surprise.

"You… You left it here," you turn a little to look at him. You can see his lashes from the darkness of the hood as they drop: he's looking at you with tenderness, although the demanding flesh against the small of your back is far from tender. 

"Mm. You have my shirt and I got your panties... A good deal, eh?"

His hand wanders further under the shirt, cups a handful of your breast. You can feel the cords of muscle bunching against you: abs that contract, thighs that press and lift yours, his cock that gives a taut pull between you two.

Your nipple is caught between hard fingertips, as he twists it like a volume control. Your abs crunch too, out of the sudden sensation that bleeds.

"Hey…"

"I can't concentrate on missions because of you," his voice drops another note or two. And now you are being scolded. But so, so tenderly still…

"Mh, König… Not–not tonight," you whisper, wondering if this man can even take a thing such as a simple no. He lets go of your nipple, but not your breast. 

Not you. Never you.

"You have worries?"

You. You're my only worry.

Your mouth closes, draws into a line. You can't tell him.

“No… No.”

"Let me have you, angel. I've waited so long." His breath is growing heavier, the lean pulse against your back, thicker. 

"I'll make you feel good," he tries to bargain when you're not responding. In a way, you want him too, but for the first time during your... acquintance, you would like him to just hold you. Without the need to throw yourselves off a cliff first.

"Not tonight." You move, then turn in his gentle, throbbing hold, and he almost draws his hand away. "Please, König…?"

"Ok," he says, but looks like he doesn't quite know what to do. Just...hug you? Go to sleep while holding you? It's a change in protocol, but he's willing to do it for you. For that knowledge alone, your hand slithers down, finds his length and wraps around it.

"I can help you? If you want?" 

The rain is thin now, as it bats the glass. He lets you go and gradually leans back, falls to the mattress and allows you to give him a good, long stroke.

"My saving angel," is the only thing he says as he falls as slack as he can – a state which can barely be called relaxed – under your palm.

He's a needy man, and deprived since the last time you saw him. Which is why you know it doesn't take long. You barely see him in the electrically illuminated darkness, but you can feel how the choked sighs ripple across his body. You feel everything: the tight trembles, the density of the air around him. You hear the moist click as he swallows, the panting that rises. The occasional groans that sound like he's crying although he's not.

It's the only way he knows how to feel good, and someday, it just might make you cry. Even the sky cries for him, it seems, because a sudden gust of wind sends an entire sheet of rain against your window.

He's exceptionally quiet, probably because you didn't let him inside you this time. But then you remember he's usually this quiet only when he's emotional.

He's missed you...

That's what this is about – the ever demanding furnace of flesh. He wants to drown in you, burn until there's nothing left. It's been days, and he might've found some privacy to fantasize about you while ruining your lace, but it's no substitute for the real thing.

His hand flies on top of yours after you find that perfect angle, the one he likes. A harsh moan coats the night air, and shoots fireworks inside your stomach. He moves your hand up and down his cock like you can't do it right, but the connection, in truth, speaks of intimacy. The touch is affectionate. It says: 'we'…

Us.

Together.

He hisses, as if he's in pain. But he's just close, and you up the pace: his own hand is now only a loose, gentle cage around yours. He's so long, it seems like it takes forever to travel from the tip to the base, and you're trying to be quick and strong on top of it all. Just milk him well so he can sleep. 

So that perhaps you can sleep.

He looks at what you're doing to him, then looks at you, and it's the vulnerability in that stare that makes you understand he feels equal to that rain. You're his only summer sun. 

Then those lashes flutter, and his eyes turn to glass just before he comes. He spills all over himself with a long groan and a soul-ripping jerk, a giant coming undone under your palm and on your poor bunk bed that has seen so much already. The load is so generous you wonder whether he has even had the time to jerk himself off during the mission. If your innocent lace has barely been touched…

The last spurts are sadder, a few gushes that float to coat your hand, and he finally stills into some form of peace. He breathes in the night, relaxed and empty. You feel like you just worked on an emotional volcano, but he gathers himself quickly, raises to a half sit and tears his shirt off and over your head. Using it to clean himself and your hand, he throws it somewhere on the floor and pulls you on top of him.

Your breasts meet the solid chest, your thighs barely have enough time to go about his hips as he closes you in one of those bear hugs. The half-hard tip of him still throbs against your folds, and only then do you notice you're wet.

"I missed you," he sighs through the mask as you're held tight against his slowly settling pulse. He holds you exceptionally firm, squeezes you against him like you're his favorite toy. He tightens the hold around your middle until you are forced to let out a whimper. Only then does he loosen the hug and give out a gentle chuckle.

"Immer so gut… You feel so good. Always."

His confession is such a normal and yet, such a fragile thing to say, that you feel tears burning in your eyes.

"I missed you too," you say while trying to hide your tears from him.

"If you have worries, you can talk to me," he then says and starts to caress your back. The window is open, and the cool night air rolls in but in his embrace, you don't feel cold. You squeeze your legs and arms around him, feeling like a leech who never wants to let go. Finally, he's holding you, just the way you wanted to…

"It's nothing," you say, when in truth this man has you worried day and night. He's like a fridge you stock full day after day, only to find it empty every morning. And the things he gives you, the things he stuffs you full with… It's like having a cat who likes to fall asleep with you, a tame, purring beast who brings you fat rodents. If you don't praise him for them, he starts to hide them around the house until you wake up one morning to a terrible smell.

"You're the first who's ever hugged me," he mutters somewhere next to your ear. The golden fire inside your stomach turns into pity, horror and pain. 

"Are–are you serious…?" You whisper in the darkness of his mask that's spilled all over your pillow. You know he has had women before you, but apparently, they have never attached to him like this. Like tiny little leeches to a bear.

"Didn't your mother hug you when you were little?"

He thinks on his answer for a second or two, maybe three. The fact that he has to think about it should tell you enough.

"No."

Then, "I can't remember…"

Your lip tugs, your lashes bat away the fire that burns. He's breathing calmly under you again, satiated by a simple handjob and a hug. Although it feels like he's the one hugging you while you're being held captive there on top of him… It feels like he doesn't even quite know what a hug is.

"She had her own troubles," he mutters, sounding like he's about to fall asleep. Even on the brink of oblivion, he defends the woman who didn't know how to hug her own child, because he can survive without touch. No matter what, he will survive. 

His breathing starts to even, and your tears begin to fall. You think of moving from on top of him, to give him space and comfort to get some sleep. But it seems it's not an option, the way he holds you like a plush toy he will never let anyone take from him.

"I think I'm going to sleep now," he rasps, somewhere between awake and sleep. The rain has stopped, and you wonder whether it has only moved somewhere else, if it's now raining inside you. His hold of you tightens just before he slips to sleep.

"Don't let go, Engel…"

[fatuismooches]

Dottore being jealous over plushies is real >:)

Imagine: reader gets so fed up with Dottore refusing to sleep and spending nights in front of his researches and experiments that you have no option, but to make... *dramatic drumroll* Plushttore! Smol plushie that's exactly like him!!

After 100 years just a few days his body finally gives up and he goes to bed, wanting to cuddle you-- only to see you happily cuddling his plushie?? Why would you do that when original is right here :<

So, no, he's not responsible for disappearance of that plushie.. definitely. Most likely.

But seeing your sad, puppy eyes he supposes he can return it, only if you promise you'll love the original more than it

Reader eventually makes plushies of all Dottore's segments. They're so cute!!

-🥀, waiting for my Arlie plushie to come

SOBBINGGGG!!! You know, you think yourself a pretty patient person, after all, you have to be when you're dating the one and only Doctor but, there are times when even your patience wears out. No matter how much you try and beg to convince him just to spend even a mere hour sleeping with you, he won't budge! You've pulled out every tactic in the book, nothing is working. Fine then! While you're grumpily cuddling your blankets and pillows, still a bit empty from the lack of warmth that should be coming from your husband who's supposed to be right next to you... you get a grand idea! If you don't have a Dottore, just make a mini one! The idea is fantastic, you'll be able to cuddle it 24/7, it'll be so cute and you'll be able to squish its cheeks all the time.

Meanwhile, Dottore is left wondering why all of a sudden you stopped bothering him for hugs and cuddles. Admittedly it bothers him more than he wants and after a bunch of failed experiments, he gives in and goes to find you. Only to see... an imposter taking his rightful place next to you. A plushie, of all things. At first, he actually finds it a bit amusing. Were you so desperate that you needed to make this thing to satisfy your longing for him? Very funny, dear, now move it aside so he can cuddle you. But you're still cuddling it even though he's right here? Are you serious right now?? Why would you settle for an inanimate copy when he's right here? I find this so funny because Dottore knows he is a possessive man, but he will never admit it if he's jealous, especially not over a damn plushie of all things. Well, this is his punishment for ignoring you, his darling lover for so long! >:(

Yes, Dottore is a plushie stealer. Actually, he's a stealer in general, he steals anything that occupies too much of your attention whenever he wants it. Like, when he's not around go ahead and indulge!! But when he's all grouchy and in need of attention, whatever is drawing your focus away from him will be confiscated (he will return it when he's satisfied by you)

All the segments' plushies are organized on your bed every day and it's super cute. You also made a plushie of yourself for Dottore as well for him to keep! (He admires your handiwork but claims that such things are not for him... yea sure he keeps the thing on his desk and sometimes gives the plushie deathly squeezes when he's bored.)

[atinycafe]

warning: suggestive

"come on baby, just get on the bike, i won't go fast, pretty, i promise you," you gaze at your elder brother's closest friend, biker!seonghwa, who sits confidently on his motorbike, extending a gloved hand toward you.

"where's yeosang? i called him," you put emphasis on the last word. you shudder at a sudden rush of cold wind, and your bare thighs press together to supress the shivers. you miss how seonghwa's eyes rake over your body, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of worry and need. "what a tease," he thinks as his jaw clenches tight.

"yeosang's drunk," he states plainly, running a hand through his hair. "pretty, do you really wanna argue with me right now, you're on the verge of freezing, and i doubt you'll have the chance to utter the final word."

with your arms crossed before you, your glossy bottom lip protrudes slightly and you roll your eyes. it frustrates you to no end when things don't go according to your desires. you specifically dialed yeosang's number because you wanted him here. why does it always have to be seonghwa instead?

it's not that you feel uncomfortable around the man; it's just that he's the only one who refuses to indulge your every whim. he has a knack for hiding his true intentions beneath charming words, leaving your somewhat slow thought process in a state of bewilderment.

"it's okay 'm not cold," you lie, even though the chilly autumn breeze penetrates through your delicate baby pink dress, offering little protection. your petite white fur coat could offer more warmth if you were to fasten it, but that would obscure the view of your alluring cleavage and the exquisite necklace adorning your neck.

"c'me here," he commands, and you find yourself compelled to approach him with a slow stride. he removes one of his leather gloves and places it gently at the nape of your neck, just beneath your blonde extensions. drawing you closer, you can actually sense his gaze upon your face, despite the dark glasses he wears to shield himself from the wind while riding his bike., "what did i tell you about lies, huh? pretty girls don't use their pretty mouths to lie, do they now?" as his fingers exert a bit more pressure on the sides of your neck, a blush creeps onto your cheeks, accentuating the heavy blush on them, and you nod in response.

"words, pretty, i wanna hear your voice," he finally releases his grip, his hands shifting to secure your petite white vest, zipping it all the way to the top. his thumbs and index fingers rest on the zipper, while your attention remains captivated by the slight caress of his other fingers as they glide along your body while raising the zipper. the warmth of his touch sends tingles through your skin as his fingers delicately reach your breasts.

as you part your lips to respond, the words become lodged in your throat, leaving you feeling momentarily trapped beneath his penetrating gaze. a smirk graces his lips, as if he possesses the ability to decipher every notion swirling within your mind, amplifying the sensation of vulnerability in your thoughts.

"what's wrong, can't find your voice, my dumb girl?" as you feel a stirring sensation between your thighs, it becomes evident that this time it has nothing to do with the chilly weather when you squeeze your thighs together.

overwhelmed by the situation, you instinctively push him aside to reach for the helmet resting on his lap. determined to join him on the bike, you attempt to mount it from behind. however, you quickly realize it's not as simple as you anticipated. the heels you're wearing make it increasingly difficult, and the seat of the bike sits too high above the ground for you to easily get on.

"pretty girl needs a hand?" his voice carries a smug undertone that you can't help but notice. biting the inside of your cheek, you silently yearn for yeosang's presence, wishing he were there instead.

he gracefully dismounts the bike, showcasing his expertise, and even you can't deny the allure he exudes. as he approaches you, he firmly grasps your waist, effortlessly lifting you up and placing you on the bike. in response, a high-pitched squeal escapes your lips, causing you to instinctively hold your dress to prevent it from riding up too much. seonghwa chuckles at the sight, finding amusement in your reaction. climbing up behind you, he assists in securely fastening the helmet onto your head. the large, black helmet creates a somewhat comical contrast against your feminine attire.

he guides your hands, placing them on the bike's handles, while his touch smoothes over your cold thighs, eliciting goosebumps along your skin. he chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. his hands venture a little higher, playfully squeezing your buttocks, causing you to jolt in your seat, which only widens his smile. finally, he repositions his hands to firmly grasp the handles beside yours, taking a moment to observe the disparity between your wrists. his own wrists are enveloped by his leather jacket, while yours adorn a multitude of shiny bracelets.

"be a good girl for me and hold on tightly, pretty."

masterlist

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 4)

Summary: The iron cage has slammed shut and you will never leave it.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, manipulation, humiliation, smut (finally :D), dubious consent

Word count: 2601

Finally, after a while, I was able to finish part 4. Perhaps I will write part 5 with the daemon prince, but I need some time for it. Updated the images (what I love about Tumblr is that you reblog the old version of the post, but by going to the original you can see the new version, it's very convenient). Specifically re-read The Hammer of Olympia for this one. I hope you enjoy it, it was a lot of fun to write.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

You still remember the first time Perturabo kicked you out because you mentioned Dorn. For two weeks he did not meet with you and did not have a heart-to-heart talk, moving away as far as possible. You thought that the primarch would do the same now, but the very next day he summoned you to his chambers.

You felt awkward for the first hour, but gradually relaxed. But still wondered why the Iron Lord behaved so strangely in the baths. Of course Perturabo was hard pressed by his responsibilities, but his sudden rage was unusual. You haven't done or said anything wrong.

Maybe he changed his mind about you? He realized that he became attached to you when a primarch should not have weaknesses. Does he see you as more than a mortal friend? Does he think of you as a sister or... something more?

These thoughts made you blush, and you hid your face in the book while Perturabo worked on the drawings. No, this is unthinkable. Of course, you knew that the primarchs had families on their planets. Parents, adoptive siblings and friends. But could they have romantic feelings for mortals?

And did you want to become his lover?

You could barely restrain yourself from jumping out of your chair and rushing around the room due to the abundance of thoughts. Feeling a strange sensation, you raised your head and with a gasp saw the attentive gaze of the primarch. You swore he could hear your heartbeat.

“Very exciting poems” - you tried to justify yourself by telling half-truths. You really liked these verses and it would be better if the lord did not know your thoughts. - “I never thought that I would love Olympic poetry about love so much.”

The primarch continued to glare at you and you shifted nervously in your chair. Did you say something bad? Since Perturabo called you, it means he is not offended or angry. But why does every minute with him last like an hour? Why is the room so hot, and the mere sight of a man makes you tremble?

“You can call me Bo.” - the primarch said quietly before turning to the table. - “During this time, I became attached to you almost like a sister. So why not make our communication even more... close.”

You smiled softly, accepting such a wonderful offer with all your gratitude. Your heart was happy. Enough time had passed to experience grief and yet you missed your parents and brothers. It was nice to feel part of the family again. Even if it is so unusual.

You involuntarily rolled your shoulders, throwing off the recent strange hot sensations. It’s as if you felt someone else’s emotions and desires that are unusual for you. But as always, you tried to brush aside the annoying thoughts and continue living in your “dome.”

***

You continued to live carefree, not knowing the sorrows of mere mortals, from time to time forgetting about the monstrous actions of the primarch. He was terrible in anger and did not value people, regarding them only as a piece of meat. He despised the weakest sons, “covered with rust” and unworthy to bear the title of Iron Warriors. He pumped out all the resources from the planets that came his way.

He had told you about his deeds before, but only the tiniest bits. Enough to frighten you and force you to obey him in everything. But you spent much more time talking about more abstract topics. Beautiful and creative. But Fulgrim's betrayal and journey into the Eye of Terror took their toll.

Now the primarch began to pour out his soul to you more and more often, sharing the terrifying methods of the art of war and enslavement. He spoke about the crimes of other legions and the warp space that you recently visited. Perturabo didn't seem to care what you thought about what was happening in the galaxies. You are just an ordinary mortal girl who will not survive in this world without him.

But you were truly frightened when the iron lord told you about the betrayal of Horus, the demons of the warp, the World Eaters and the daemon prince Angron, with whom Inron Warriors would go to their greatest battle. Siege of Terra. The man saw the horror you were in, watched as tears flowed down your cheeks and how awareness gradually came.

“I understand how difficult it is to find out all this. But nothing can be done. The False Emperor must be overthrown, and we will rule the Imperium as we deserve.” - the primarch, grinning darkly, stroked your head. - “I promised to take care of you. And I will continue to cherish you. Nobody cares about you except me. You would have become a slave or fodder for fuel in the hands of my brothers or continuing to live under my father's rule. Without me, you are a mere mortal girl, one of trillions. You are nobody. Nothing."

The man’s words hurt painfully, and yet you pressed closer to him. Thoughts swirled in my head. Your home world was far from the Solar System and yet your life was quite acceptable. You had a loving family, you did not live in poverty, and working as a chronicler was your long-time dream. Rogal Dorn brought your world into harmony, improving life on the planet and you were glad to become part of the Imperium.

But now it was just a dream. A deception. No, the primarch could not lie to you. The Imperium is rotten and sooner or later an unenviable fate would await you. The world was full of dangers and you could not resist these horrors. You would have been torn to pieces, gutted and eaten alive long ago if it weren't for Perturabo. He saved you. If he didn’t need new personal slaves, if you weren’t noticed, then you would... you would...

“Bo,” you whispered chokedly, swallowing tears and trying to calm your breathing. Fragile fingers squeezed the iron lord's tunic with force. - "I'm scared."

The man stopped stroking and you held your breath until you felt the touch of fingers on your chin. The primarch gently lifted your head, forcing you to look straight into your eyes. You could only gasp in horror and the feeling of safety next to Perturabo.

“You mortals do not obey me. You don't know what's good for you. There is no peace and kindness in this world. Only violence.” - your lips trembled and you let out a strangled squeak, feeling the grip on your face intensify. Almost possessively, the man held you close to him, never breaking eye contact. - “You promised that you wouldn’t leave me. So continue to listen to me. Love me and I will build a perfect world for you.”

You cannot stand the excess of emotions and, sobbing, bury your face in the primarch’s chest. Some part of you knew he was fooling himself. He wants to destroy and recreate everything anew just for himself. And you were part of this vast plan, a chaotic and terrifying dream, recreated from the darkest feelings of a primarch.

But the world around you was disgustingly cruel and merciless. You won’t be able to take a single step, the monsters will immediately destroy your body and mind. You didn't have anyone. No family, no friends. There are no enemies left, and the strangers have disappeared. There was no human warmth around you and you didn’t notice how you were left alone in an iron cage. Only Bo was with you. You only had him.

And if Terra must fall for the Iron Lord to be happy, then so be it.

***

He lost. The opportunity to rise was taken away from him. He was deprived of his greatest triumph. The Solar War ended in victory only thanks to Perturabo. He alone bore on his shoulders the responsibility for the entire success of the traitors while the rest of the legions indulged in senseless violence and debauchery.

But the worst thing was that Horus did not allow him to storm the Imperial Palace. He was not allowed Dorn's creation to be destroyed. He was not allowed his once beloved father to laugh in the face, who preferred another son to him. The warrior turned out to be a slave of the Chaos Gods, having lost his power and strength. And his brothers would not have been able to contribute to the war if not for the Iron Lord.

He's so tired of it. Complete disappointment. Retreating to Mars, Perturabo continued to oversee the ongoing Siege of Terra. Rage and resentment overwhelmed him and he destroyed everything that came in his way. He did not spare his creations, nor his slaves, nor his sons. He was humiliated. Again.

He hated them all. And the Emperor, and the loyalist brothers and traitors. They all mocked him. No, that will not do. The Warmaster may win this war, but he won't be celebrating for long. Perturabo will not let them rest on his laurels, oh no. He will rise above them all. The Primarch was humanity's greatest creation, but that was not enough. He needed more strength, more power. He will become a deadly deity who will crush everything in his path. All galaxies will obey him. Everyone will fear and respect him.

He will rule over everyone. And with him his Legion. And with him...

The man stopped abruptly, sucking in a breath and slowly lowering the hammer. Containing his emotions, he slowly walked towards her chambers. How long had he been trying to drown out his feelings, to deceive himself? How long and unsuccessfully have he tried to suppress this desire?

She was a fragile mortal, unworthy of his attention. But she had been a part of his life since his childhood. Crafty and smart, so kind and beautiful. She was weak, but so pleasant and sweet to the taste. Only she was allowed to see his soul hidden behind the iron. He told himself that he almost loved her like the Emperor... No, he loved her much more than his father. And the whole world.

The primarch slowly opens the door and sees you cowering next to the bed, trembling in horror. Of course, you now know about what is happening in the world and what sacrifices Perturabo makes to make your life enjoyable. Besides, you probably heard him raging with anger. Well, now you just have to calm him down.

“Bo?” - your voice trembles with surprise and you almost sigh with relief. You rise to your feet, but you can’t even take a step from the tension. - “Is it over? I-I heard how angry you were. Are you-”

“Take off.”

It's that simple. No confessions of feelings, no long conversations. The primarch did not want to wait any longer. He let you close enough to him. Why use unnecessary words when you can strengthen your connection in such a primitive but intriguing way? You freeze and open your mouth in surprise. Hands tug at the dress, unable to remove the fabric stuck to the body.

The primarch notices a blush on your cheeks. Embarrassment is an unnecessary quality, but he likes to see you in this state. It's quite charming. But he doesn't want to waste another minute. With sharp steps, the man approaches you and with one hand, forcefully tears your dress, exposing your body. You scream and try to cover yourself, but Perturabo grabs your hands, not letting you.

The man swallows, looking at your perfect forms. On your femininity. This is an ordinary human body, nothing special. He had seen naked people more than once, and females too. But you aroused him. The Emperor removed such base desires from the Astartes, but the Primarchs were a different matter. They experienced a greater range of emotions than mere mortals. They knew and saw more. But the war for humanity and service for the Emperor did not give them the opportunity to experience carnal pleasures. To become attached to mortals in a different way.

But now Perturabo no longer serves anyone but himself. And he could do whatever he wanted. With these thoughts, the man begins to touch you, no, caress you. That's what it's called. His hands on your shoulders and waist. Touching your lips, kissing your breasts and stomach. Listening to your breathing. Lower and lower until it reaches your thighs. Primarchs grew up in flasks; they were not born naturally between their mother's legs. And you... you would have been a wonderful mother to his real sons.

The man throws you on the bed and takes off his clothes. It’s good that he took off his armor first. He couldn't stand waiting that long. The primarch climbs on top of you and is displeased to see the fear in your eyes. Because of the difference in height? Women can endure even more than that, and sharing the bed with a primarch should be the greatest honor. Especially with him.

Or is it because of the blood of slaves and sons that got on his face? Still fresh, it dripped onto your body and you shuddered every time. In truth, he doesn't care. Now you are afraid, but soon you will dissolve in him and thank him for this.

Perturabo abruptly enters you, tearing you apart and looking with ecstasy at how your face stretches out in pain. He feels your blood and cannot wonder if he is your first or if your tender body is simply not intended for a primarch. Even if it's not meant to be, you have to accept it.

“Be quiet. Control yourself. I don't want to hear your screams. I don’t want to see you hurt.” - He wants it in some way. Make you suffer for what you did with him. The man moves his hips and you bite your lip. - “I just want to hear your moans. You have to beg me for it.”

The Iron Lord continues to slowly fill you, peering into your face until he notices dramatic changes. How your mouth opens slightly and your eyes close from the rush of feelings.

“Bo, I”

"You were right. I crave love. I want love. And you have to give it to me, you have to.” - the primarch accelerates, not allowing you to get a word in. “They underestimate me, but it only makes things worse for them. I am the grandest, sister. I am superior to everyone in this world. I'm not a boy, I'm a man. And now you see it. You see it.”

Perturabo leans down with difficulty and begins to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys. He remembers the sound of crunching, he remembers blood and dead eyes. It wasn't you. It was a decrepit old woman who called herself you and dared to condemn him. Daring to mock him. And you, crying with pleasure, know your place. So continue to remain at his feet and he will show you a perfect world.

The man groans and pronounces your names, continuing to whisper about his grievances and shout about imminent divinity. Until he finally fills you and sinks onto the bed with a sigh. Burying your small figure with his massive body. Completely unaware of your tears and misunderstanding in your eyes. How a drop of love mixes with true horror.

But if he saw it, it wouldn't change anything. You belonged to him. You were his and only his. The iron cage was finally closed. And now the bird will sing only to him.

[mellowswriting]

Can I request jealous/possessive Din 🥺 and maybe some smut that ends with gooood aftercare?? (absolutely love your acct btw!)

all mine

pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader

word count || 2.5k

summary || After a successful bounty hunt, Din feels the need to remind you just who you belong to.

content || no use of Y/N, SMUT, fingering, manhandling, rough sex, possessive!Din, unprotected sex, two idiots in loooooove, very fluffy and lovey ending

a/n || me, writing another weirdly poetic smut fic? entirely unsurprising. thank you for the request, anon!

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You really should have known. The moment you mentioned using yourself as a lure to draw the mark away from his guards, you could feel the heat of Din’s gaze burning into you. You knew he wouldn’t like it. The potential danger alone was enough to have him flat-out rejecting the idea altogether but after days of no progress, everyone knew it was the only viable plan. It took less than an hour for your allure to coax the man away from his protective guard. It was worth it, even if you had to deal with the disgusting feeling of his hand at the small of your back for a few moments. 

The relief of finally securing the bounty was short-lived. Din’s tension was unmistakable. The leather of his gloves squeaked with every clench of his fists. He constantly wedged his body closer to yours the moment anyone grew close. His presence was omnipresent, a constant looming over your shoulder. You brushed it off as the stress of a long mission or the adrenaline-driven instinct to keep you safe. 

It isn’t until you’re pinned against the soft mattress by Din’s unbreakable strength that you realize you might have misread the situation. The tension finally snapped the moment he got you alone. The blunt edge of his teeth sinks into your neck and forces a broken sound out of your chest, but he doesn’t let up. His fingers dig harder into your hips to fight off your squirming.

“Fuck, Din.” You tug him back by his hair and the sight he makes sends a thrill of lust arcing through your belly. Those pretty brown eyes are bright with a near fanatical need. His lips are slick and a little swollen from the rough kisses. Every breath leaves him in a jagged rush as if the simple act of holding himself back has left him breathless. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

Din forces a deep breath into his lungs, his nostrils flaring as he grapples with his self-control. His voice is low and tinged with danger as he murmurs, “He put his fucking hands on you.”

The statement is so simple for something that rocks through you so hard. Pure possessiveness curls through the deep tenor of his voice. It doesn’t matter that neither of you has slept much in the last few days or that both of your bodies are tense and sore. That tone is enough to have a new surge of energy rushing through your veins. You can’t help the teasing grin that forms on your face. 

“Oh… are you jealous, Din?” Your voice lilts playfully - and Din is having none of it.

“Can’t be jealous if you’re already mine, can I?” He bites out harshly. The sudden loss of his weight pinning you to the bed has you huffing in disappointment, but he doesn’t give you long to be upset. Both of his hands grip the neckline of your tanktop and before you can utter a warning, the fabric shreds like paper in his hands. Your shorts and underwear are the next victims to be ripped from your body. 

Din wastes no time in shoving himself between your thighs, forcing them to spread wide. The sudden exposure forces a whine from your throat, all vulnerable and needy, but he doesn’t falter. His gaze darkens, a low sound rumbling in his chest at the sight of your cunt, already slick and flushed from his rough handling. 

“That’s all it takes, huh?” Din murmurs. The harsh smack of his palm against your ass catches you off guard and you moan a broken little sound that only encourages him. He grins wildly. “Get a little rough and this pretty pussy just begs for attention…” 

You arch your hips and grind your ass back against him, shivering at the press of his hard cock against your ass. He’s still completely clothed, dressed in his flight pants and soft undershirt. The stark difference of your completely bare body beneath his clothed one only pushes you deeper into that sweet, hazy headspace - and he knows it. He watches with rapt attention as the fabric of his flight pants darkens with your slick, the muscle in his jaw ticking with every clench of his teeth. 

The temptation is too much for him to resist. His fingertips glide along the seam of your sex to find your clit with practiced ease. There’s no hesitation, no slow progression of gentle pressure to ease you into his touch. Two thick fingers sink into you without warning, the sudden stretch forcing a choked sound from your chest. Your thighs jerk against his hold, trying - and failing - to close around his hand. Din just tuts and shakes his head, almost mocking as he chastises you.

“None of that. I know what this needy cunt wants.” Those talented fingers curl upward against that sweet spot over and over until you instinctively squirm away from his touch. He doesn’t let you get far. The grip on your thigh tightens just as his thumb presses firmly against your clit and the pulse of pleasure that rocks through your core is molten and piercing and devastating. 

A low groan rips through his chest at the sight you make and your skin flushes under his attention, his urgent touch. Every inch of your body has been committed to his memory, so thoroughly that he doesn’t even have to watch his movements to have you falling apart beneath him. But he watches anyway, too entranced to tear his eyes away. 

Din grinds his cock against your soft thigh, too taken with the sight of you falling apart to stop himself. Every little whimper he drags out of you only makes him rut into you harder. There’s an intensity that simmers in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he would burn the entire universe down just to keep you here with him. Possessive and dark and all-encompassing. 

“Come on, let go. Be loud for me, sweet girl.” Din murmurs, the low rumble of his voice alight with indulgence. That unshakable restraint of his is splintering right before your eyes. He wants more. His palm presses down on your lower belly just as he curls his fingers and you cry out, a sharp and indecent sound that sends a shudder through Din’s body. “That’s it, that’s my girl. Every little sound, every quiver, every fucking drop… it’s all mine. You are all mine.”

You reach out for him before you can think better of it, your fingers gripping his wrist tightly. His eyes flash up to yours, dark and dangerous, but it isn’t enough to deter you. Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips in a nervous impulse. 

“Prove it.” 

Din snaps. 

The world spins as he manhandles your body, pushing and pulling until he has you on your knees, facedown against the mattress. Adrenaline and desire flood your body with every beat of your heart. His hands settle on both globes of your ass and spreads you apart for his greedy eyes, his fingers giving your plump flesh an appreciative squeeze. You hear the sound of him spitting before you feel it, hot and slick splattering against your cunt. 

You can’t help but envision yourself through his gaze. Bent to his will, quivering and dripping with slick and spit. Fingers twisting the fine, expensive sheets so tightly they may tear. Whining and whimpering and desperate. It’s no wonder he’s so ravenous. 

Din rips the fly of his pants open so harshly that he damn near breaks the zipper in his haste. Anticipation tightens in your belly and you barely have a moment to steady yourself before he’s pushing into you with one devastating roll of his hips. The sound that rumbles through his chest is nothing less than pure animal, entirely feral and starved for you. His hips grind impossibly deeper, even with his pelvis pressed flush against your ass. 

The rest of the world - fuck, the rest of the universe - disintegrates into nothing. Beyond your lover, the heat of his body and the pleasure he draws through your strung-out body with every movement, nothing else exists. It hurts in the best of ways. You slump deeper into the sheets, struggling to keep yourself upright as the waves of pleasure threaten to drown you. Din doesn’t even falter - he just hitches you up higher by your hips and holds you in place, pins you there beneath him at the perfect angle. The way you melt for him is the only sign he needs. His pace grows harsher, fast and jarring until the headboard cracks into the wall with every sharp thrust he delivers into your body. 

“Who do you belong to, huh?” Din growls.

You choke out a weak, “You!” 

“Hm? I didn’t catch that.” His arm wraps around your neck and tugs you up onto your knees, his pace never faltering. Even like this, his head clouded with possessiveness and lust, he’s careful not to block your breathing. His bicep flexes against your neck and the pure strength he contains sends a rush through you. “Speak up. Who the fuck do you belong to?”

“You!” You cry out, your nails digging into his wrist as you cling to him. The sudden change in angle has every thrust pressing against that sweet spot that makes you tremble uncontrollably. “Fuck, I belong to you! I’m yours, I’m all yours. Please just… fuck, please!”

Your voice fizzles out into something soft and sweet, so breathy and fucked out that you can’t even finish your plea - but it’s okay. Din knows. He knows what you want, what you need. The desperate tone seems to break something in him. He presses his cheek to the side of your head, molding your bodies together seamlessly. The brush of his clothes against your flushed skin makes you shiver. 

“Good girl…” Din murmurs in that soft, lovestruck voice that makes you melt.  “Don’t worry, I’ve got my girl. My perfect, beautiful girl.” 

His hand abandons your hip to snake down your belly. The moment his fingertips glide over your clit, you jerk in his arms as if he’s shocked you. Din just holds you tighter, whispering praise and encouragement between his own broken moans. You swear you’ve never felt closer to him. The two of you fuse into one being, a mess of limbs and sweat and lust. You reach back and bury your hand in his hair, your fingers clutching those soft curls at the base of his skull for dear life. His sharp teeth nip at your earlobe playfully before soothing the mark with a flick of his tongue - and you can’t hold back. 

“Oh, fuck -” Your voice is choked away by the weight of your orgasm. The devastating burst of pleasure rips through you until you’re left trembling and breathless in your lover’s arms. A broken moan drips from Din’s lips, heated and wild in your ear as he buries himself as deep as your body will take him. It never fails - your end always brings about his. The quivering of your cunt, the pure ambrosia of your cries… as sure as the sun will rise, your orgasm sends Din crashing down into his own.

He barely manages to keep himself from crushing you as the two of you fall into the sheets. Every grind of his hips sends pulses of overstimulation through your overworked body. You can’t help but shiver with it as his full weight sinks into you, his cock slowly softening inside of you as the post-orgasmic haze settles over you both. 

Time slows, thick and sweet as molasses. The steady beat of his heart and his gentle exhales ghosting across the back of your neck ground you to him, to the unbearably divine reality that surrounds you. This man, the love of your life, so steadfast in his dedication to you. The pure fervor of it is enough to warm you for a thousand lifetimes. You reach back and tug at the shirt he still wears, a wordless plea that still tells him all he needs to know. 

Take it off. I want to feel you. 

Din makes quick work of his clothes. The need to feel his skin against yours is one he feels so keenly that he could never deny you. You stretch out in the silken sheets, lazy and lithe as a loth cat. You can feel his gaze on you as he strips himself bare. The fire in his eyes has eased to embers. Still scorching with heat but… sated. Content. In the low light of the room, his bare body slick with sweat and his expression so full of love, you can’t help but gravitate to him. His muscles twitch beneath your palm as your hand explores the body you know so well - over the soft hairs of his happy trail and the thick muscle of his chest, coming to rest at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. He grasps your elbow and you meet his gaze, and the sight he makes steals the very breath from your lungs. 

Lips parted. Eyes wide. Hair mused and messy. He looks at you as if you placed the very stars in his sky. There is a devotion that hangs in the air, heavy and so sweet you nearly ache with it. Your hand slides up to the back of his neck, musing the mess of curls that lie there. He shivers at the touch and for a moment, it’s hard to believe that he is the man who just fucked you until you couldn’t think straight.

“I love you,” You whisper. 

His cheeks flush red. “I love you, too.” 

Din doesn’t resist as you pull him back into bed for a kiss. It’s simple, nearly chaste, but it still leaves him breathless and gazing at you with dazed eyes. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips before he tugs you into his lap for another and another until you’re both breathless. Warm hands explore the planes of your back, the curve of your waist, his touch as reverent as it was the very first time he felt you. Despite the exhaustion that curls through you both, he’s so hesitant to let this moment end. 

“We could always take a shower.” He suggests in a tone so conspicuously innocent that you can’t help but laugh. 

“We should rest.” You admit. The disappointment on his face is impossible to miss. He might as well pout. You brush his hair out of his face. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. I have a lot of plans for tomorrow and they all include us staying right here in this bed.” 

The promise is enough for Din to let you both settle in for some much-needed sleep. Even as you doze off, lulled to sleep by the steady beat of his heart beneath you, Din hesitates to follow. He’s exhausted too, but he can’t stop staring at you long enough to let sleep take him. No matter how many times he has seen you curled up against him, deep in sleep, the sight never fails to enrapture him. The reminder that you’re here with him - that you love and trust him so deeply - blows him away every single time. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day, pretty girl.” He whispers into the calm night. “Gonna be a good husband and give you the life you deserve. I promise.”

[howlingday]

Witcher 3 is giving me brain worms so how about a RWBY AU where Jaune is possessed by a Hym after killing Penny.

Possessed

'Uncle Qrow, can you help us look for Weiss?'

The request was simple, but dire. His niece's partner had disappeared some time ago, gone without a trace, and Qrow Branwen had taken it upon himself to help search for her. When he told Winter, Weiss Schnee's elder sister, she'd admitted that she'd already known and said that the one person who might know where she went was Jaune Arc, the leader of Team RWBY's sister team, JNPR. The two men weren't usually on the best of terms, and he doubted the sudden vanishing act would make their friendship, or lack thereof, grow any further from this.

Stepping into Team JNPR's home was unsettling. The sun was high in the sky, yet the common area was as dark as midnight, save for the fire blazing in the hearth. Lie Ren, a thin, young man from mistral in a green tunic looked to Qrow, waving him to the side.

"We'll be done soon."

As Qrow leaned against the wall, he glanced at Jaune and noticed how miserable he'd become since arriving in Shade. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, proof that he'd not been sleeping well. Worse yet, he had bandages running up and down his arms and legs. As he spoke, there was a quake in his voice, like he'd seen a Grimm for the first time.

"She came to me again." Jaune said as he shook. "Came and ripped my arm off with her bare hands." He blinked, wiping and rubbing his eyes clear of any tears. "She's demanding a sacrifice."

"Or it could just be a nightmare, Jaune."

"No, no, no." Jaune shook his head. "She's wanting a sacrifice. There's no other meaning. I have to do this."

"That sounds like an extreme." Ren reasoned. "Maybe you should talk to someone-"

"I don't need to talk to anyone." Jaune nearly snarled at his teammate. He stood from his seat, addressing Qrow at last. The veteran huntsman approached, wasting no time for pleasantries.

"I'm looking for the little Ice Queen. You seen her?"

"Weiss? Yeah, the other day."

"Where is she now?"

Jaune was quiet for a moment, then looked to the side. "Hm? What?"

"Weiss. Where is Weiss?"

"I... I dunno..." He shook his head, waving his hand. "I don't have time for this." He then walked past Qrow, climbing the stairs and out of sight. Qrow looked to the remaining huntsman.

"I say somethin' wrong?"

"He's..." Ren pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to explain the situation. "He's been through a lot recently, and I think this whole thing is starting to get to him."

"You don't say? He did seem kinda distant at the war meeting. Think it-"

"AAARGH!" Jaune shouted from upstairs.

"Excuse me, I need to check on him." Ren stepped away.

"Wait, what about Weiss? I need to find her!"

"I don't know. Try asking around." Ren said, halfway up the steps. "Maybe Nora or Oscar have seen her." Then he was gone.

"Great..."

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

As Qrow walked around town, he noticed a lot of people steering clear of the JNPR home. It made sense; that scream wasn't one of joy, or anything positive. He'd heard stories of lonely villagers being ostracized to the outskirts, if only to keep them from drawing the Grimm closer with their negativity. Unfortunately, Vacuo took those stories as history and embraced the tactic.

Asking around, a girl mentioned seeing Weiss going to the top of a nearby cliff, carrying something wrapped in cloth. Following directions was simple, but walking through the cave to get there was unnerving, despite not seeing a single Grimm as he passed through. At the mouth of the cave, lying unconscious, was Weiss.

"Weiss!" Carrying her out of the cave, he checked her neck for a pulse. She stirred, confirming his suspicions of her vitality.

"What... What happened?" She winced. "Oogh... My head..."

"Looks like something hit you on the head. Knocked you out."

"Qrow...?" She blinked slowly. "Why are you here?"

"I came looking for you. Your team and half of Shade is worried about you." He stood up. "We're heading back-"

"Not yet!" She stood, but stumbled into Qrow, who caught her. "Not until I help Jaune." She patted herself. "The doll! Where's the doll?! I need to-"

"What you need to do is rest." Qrow scowled. "You were half-dead when I found you."

"But I-"

"-need to tell me what's going on." Qrow helped her back to the ground. "Why were you out here?"

"I'm helping Jaune."

"By wandering off into a cave in the middle of nowhere? How will that help?"

"If I had the doll, it would."

"What doll?"

"It's a Penny doll." Weiss explained. "I was coming to make an offering to Penny's grave."

"An offering?"

"It's a long story." Weiss took a deep breath and used the wall outside of the cave entrance to help her to her feet. "Jaune told me that his family are Ancestrians, believing that the spirits of the dead friends and family help us become stronger. The best way to make those bonds stronger is to make offerings. Offerings like a doll made in the likeness of the deceased."

"Ain't there a grave for her in the middle of Shade?"

"A shrine, but not to her, but to everyone else who didn't make it from Atlas. The grave has to be individual, personal."

"So why here?"

Weiss stepped away from the wall and stopped halfway to the grave. "From here, you can see the entire town. Ruby, Jaune, and I thought this would be the best place for her to look over the people she died to protect."

"I remember Winter saying that Jaune killed Penny himself."

"To stop Cinder from taking the Winter Maiden's power, yes." She turned to Qrow. "I choose to believe Jaune when he says she told him to."

"Even though you weren't close enough to hear her tell him?"

"The only people who know for certain are Jaune and Penny." Her fists clenched a bit, with her lips pursed to match. "And I've already told you my thoughts on Jaune's words. Regardless, it's affecting him now as we speak. And I think the doll offering will help him."

"By leaving a doll at Penny's grave. Alone."

"Ruby is busy with her own thing and Jaune... Well, you've seen Jaune. What his guilt is doing to him."

"You mean the scars?" Qrow quirked a brow. "Thought he got that from his time in the Ever After."

"Hardly!" Weiss balked. "The only scars he took from any Grimm is have completely healed by now! No, this is much deeper scarring than any Grimm could do. I asked him about it, and he said that Penny AND Pyrrha are demanding he inflict pain on himself- to make things right. But I'd never think it could be either of them. No, this is all Jaune. That's why I need that doll-"

"What you need is to rest." Qrow jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll go look for the doll. You stay here and recover."

She gave a harrumph and sat down by the cave. The sun began its descent from the sky, casting shadows along the cave wall. In the newly brightened cavern, he could see the doll, or what remains of it, shattered inside the cloth on the ground. Qrow hummed as he picked it up. To the side, caught in the sunlight, he saw a dark figure with horns, and it snarled as it stared at him.

"What the-?!" As fast as Harbinger came out, the shade had disappeared. Checking around him, he couldn't see the Grimm, or whatever it was, and cautiously scooped up the remains of the broken doll. Something strange was going on, and Qrow had a feeling Jaune was more deeply involved in this than he'd originally thought.

"Do you have the doll?" Weiss asked as Qrow returned.

"What's left of it."

"What's left of- Agh!" Weiss slapped her forehead. "Of course it would be broken when I passed out. Nothing can ever go my way..."

"You're complaining to the wrong guy about that." He hummed. "So what now?"

"Well, now I have to go back and buy a new one." She sighed. "So much hard work undone by bad luck."

"Again, not the right guy complain to about that."

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

"Where is my sister by the way?" Weiss asked as she and Qrow walked towards JNPR's dwelling.

"Now? No idea." Qrow answered. "Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered why she let you look for me on your own."

"What do you mean 'let me'?" Qrow's voice had a dangerous tone to him.

"Oh, nothing." Weiss turned away. "I just thought she didn't like having you out of her sight. Oh, there's Jaune and Ruby!"

Correct in her statement, Jaune and Ruby were standing on the balcony of the home. As they approached, going through the inside of the building, they found Ruby rubbing Jaune's back while he rubbed his eyes with one hand. The other hand was wrapped about a hundred times over with a bright red spot from the center.

"It's too bright." Jaune groused. "My eyes are stinging."

"The fresh air is good, Jaune." Ruby comforted.

"Penny won't like this, Ruby..."

"Ahem!" Qrow announced himself.

"Uncle Qrow!" Ruby gasped. "AND WEISS~!"

"What's with the hand, kid?" Qrow pointed at Jaune's injury. "Penny tell you to do that?"

"Penny needed an sacrifice."

"I tried to explain it to him, Jaune." Weiss spoke before Qrow could. "He didn't know about your belief until I told him just a while ago. But what I failed to mention is that some older offering methods is the pain of the living. It brings you closer to the spirits, helps build strength inside of you."

"It's more than an offering," Jaune gave Qrow a dead serious look, "it's a sacrifice."

"Right." The veteran nodded. "So, about these voices in your head-"

"Penny's voice." Jaune snarled. "HER voice."

"Penny's definitely related to this alright."

Jaune had a flash of anger in his eyes. He stood up, his wounded hand moving to his sword. Weiss stepped between, holding her hands up. "I told him about the grave! I showed him and-"

"Penny's grave could be the key to solving this. That's why I think you need to apologize to her, there, in person."

"I..." Jaune shook, his voice breaking. "I didn't want to..." Tears began to well in his eyes as raised his bandaged hand to his face. "She asked me... Begged me, even, but I... She's so angry."

Qrow could keep pushing the issue, explaining his doubts that this is really Penny's ghost talking in his head. However, he doubted both Ruby and Weiss could calm him down together if Jaune got angry. So, he pulled out an ol' trick he learned in his younger years. A little thing called empathy.

"Let me help you." Qrow offered. "I promise to do everything I can to keep Penny from being angry."

"Listen to Uncle Qrow, Jaune." Ruby said, trying to be as soothing as possible. "I don't think Penny is angry with you, and even if she is, she's not the kind of person to say no to someone saying, 'I'm sorry'."

Jaune looked down the balcony to his team. They had just come back from grocery shopping, and Nora was playing with a cheese knife set, still in box, while Ren and Oscar expressed their concern, annoyed more so at Emerald's goading Nora. He smiled, then took a deep breath. "What do I need to do?"

"You know how to get to the grave, right?"

Jaune was quiet. "I do, but..." He shook his head. "My team won't let me leave. Not until my wounds are all healed."

"Even with Jaune's healing semblance," Ruby further explained, "he cut deep and nicked a really bad spot. Ren said he shouldn't be moving around too much."

"Well, we don't have much choice, do we?" Qrow shrugged. "I'm sure we can get a wagon to haul ya, if need be."

Jaune looked to the grave and winced. "No. No, I can't. Penny... She'll be angry. I can feel it!"

"She won't, though!" Ruby tried to calm him. "Uncle Qrow knows what he's doing, and Penny would want you to go with him!" Despite these words, though, Jaune refused to look away from the grave, even as the sun began to sting his eyes.

"Well, if you won't go, is there anything I can say on your behalf?" Qrow was getting tired of this charity case, moreso dealing with a fanatic like Jaune than his actual beliefs.

"Yeah... Tell her..." Jaune swallowed. "Tell her that I wish she was here instead of me."

"...Alright then."

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

The doll costed a hefty amount of lien, but that only made sense when you considered two facts. The first was that this was a figure made in the homage and likeness of a hero, a hero who died protecting Remnant. The second was that he was in Vacuo, which wasn't exactly known for thrifty prices, especially with how much they already pay for supplies, or "pay" by other means, either with coercion or intimidation. Or just plain stealing.

As he made his way up, he caught a few huntsmen walking in the opposite direction of the JNPR house. This normally wouldn't bother him, since huntsmen and huntresses make house call visits all the time. But what bothered him was what was on their shoulder patches; green wings, meaning these were triage huntsmen.

"Dammit..." Qrow began moving faster, almost sprinting as he could hear yelling from inside. He doubted they were Penny's voice this time.

"WHY?! WHY'D YOU DO THAT?!" Ruby screamed.

"I... I had to..." Qrow rounded the corner, finding Jaune in the middle of a crowd of his friends. Some, like his nieces and Ren, were angry. Others, like, well, the others, were concerned to varying degrees, ranging from face-holding like Yang or almost bawling like Nora. All the while, Jaune spoke with a shaking voice. "Pyrrha... Pyrrha and Penny demanded it..."

"Neither of them would tell you to do anything like this!" Weiss wailed.

"What the hell's going on?" Qrow asked, getting everyone's attention.

"Jaune... He-" Ruby started, only for Nora to shove her out of the way.

"HE ALMOST STABBED HIMSELF IN THE EYE~!"

"What?!" Qrow flinched. Looking to Jaune, he had a bandage on the side of his face. Though it was likely stitched and cleaned, he could still see blood oozing from the wound. "Why'd you do it?"

"Because..." And with the coldest, most distant stare Qrow had ever seen from a huntsman so young, answered. "Penny and Pyrrha demanded a sacrifice..."

With a glare, Qrow barked to the room. "Everyone out except Jaune, Ruby, and Weiss!" There was slow movement at first. "NOW!" The movement became much quicker. Taking a deep breath, Qrow began to calm down.

This had gone far enough. One voice was strange enough, but two asking for the same thing? Too strange to be a coincidence. And the shadow in the cave leading to the grave could be the key. But he couldn't rely on a hunch. He needed facts.

"What did Penny and Pyrrha say? Exactly. Do you remember? What did they tell you?"

Jaune was quiet, shivering despite being so close to the alight firepit. "They were angry. Penny said, 'You coward, you could kill me but you can't face me yourself?' and Pyrrha said after, 'You haven't changed since your failure at Beacon.' and together they said, 'Cut out your eye and suffer and regret the failure you are!'."

If this were a romance, this would be the point where the hero shouts that 'They would never say that!' but life is way more complicated. Especially since Qrow was the hero of this story, he thought, and he didn't know Pyrrha or Penny well enough to say this. Still, even with so many people arguing that this isn't true only doesn't proves how untrue it is when he was there at their final moments. But everyone is so focused on who said it that no one thought to ask WHY it was said.

"When did Penny and Pyrrha talk to you? Was it after I left?"

Jaune numbly nodded. "A bit after. I felt tired, so I thought I'd take a nap." He lifted his hand. "Heal my wounds with a bit of rest. But instead, they came to me in my attempts to dream."

"They always talk when you're asleep?"

"A-Always."

"What do you see then? Where do they talk to you in your dream?"

"Penny's grave." Jaune answered. "They tell me to make a light, then talk to me from the shadows."

Things started to click in Qrow's head. It explained why the JNPR house was dark, even in midday, and why Jaune screamed shortly after he left earlier that day. Combine that with the location they talk from, the shadow on the cave wall, and what Jaune was being told, everything lined up almost perfectly with the exact Grimm he was thinking of. Just one thing left to ask...

"Did they ever appear in front of you? Did you ever see them for yourself?"

"Once," Jaune swallowed, "I decided to be brave and speak to them, face-to-face, bringing the light around. I saw a hazy figure, shaped like a person, covered in shadows."

Qrow nodded. He looked to Ruby and Weiss, then stepped away. As he did, though, he noticed the shadow coming from Jaune looked different. Almost wavy. Not human.

"Everybody back in!" Without hesitation, or not much if there was any, the people he told to leave shuffled back in. He pointed at them, barking different orders; change Jaune's bandages, clean his wounds, keep him calm. The only ones he didn't bark orders to was Ruby and Weiss. He walked upstairs, to the balcony, with Ruby and Weiss following close behind.

"Uncle Qrow, what's going on?"

"The doll isn't going to do anything." Qrow said, setting the gift on the balcony.

"What's wrong with him?" Weiss asked.

"It's a Zimora." Qrow answered. "Old Grimm. Never seen one outside of a fairy tale. It latches onto huntsmen overcome with guilt for their crimes. It drains them of their aura, using the person by fueling their guilty conscience. In the end, they force their victims to mutilate themselves."

Weiss gasped and covered her mouth.

Ruby tightened her hands into balled fists. "So what do we do?"

"If I remember right, there's two ways to kill it," he raised his hand up into two fingers, "in theory." He flicked one finger. "The first option is the huntsman way; we bring Jaune out to Penny's grave and wait for it to show up. The fairy tales say that if you spend a night with the victim in the Grimm's lair, it'll show up."

"So we just need to wait with Jaune by Penny's grave?" Weiss asked. "Shouldn't be too difficult."

"Afraid it is." Qrow shook his head. "Not only will the Grimm be fighting for all its worth, but it'll heal its wounds using the victim, eventually to the point of their exhaustion and-"

"What's the other way?" Ruby asked, not wanting to hear more of this clearly worse option.

"It's a Grimm from the old age, back when Salem had rules for them." Qrow explained. "And this one's rule, supposedly, is that it needs a host. Without one, it'll be weak and easy to kill." Before Ruby could ask for clarification, Qrow held up a finger. "The host has to be one with incredible guilt. Fresh guilt. If we can trick it into believing there's a new host when there isn't one, it'll panic and suddenly become weaker."

"Then let's do that!" Ruby said with a smile.

"This is just a theory I came up with, Squirt. Haven't heard or read of anyone pulling this off."

"Well, then that just means no one's thought of a trick that good yet!"

"It seems impossible, but it's something we should at least try." Weiss added.

"Tricks are never simple, though. Even then, neither method is perfect. A Zimora only attacks those with a guilty conscience, someone who truly believes they've committed a great sin. The Zimora strengthens this regret and feeds off it. In other words, if the new host doesn't feel true agony and sorrow, the Zimora will sense that."

"Then... in order for this to work..." Weiss tapped her lip. "If anyone comes up with a plan, the other can't know about it."

"Exactly."

"Both are dangerous, but..." Ruby nodded. "I think we should try to trick it!"

"Sorry if I don't sound convinced."

"What, do you need my sister to think for you~?" Weiss teased, earning a scowl from Qrow. "If all else fails, we'll try the huntsman's way."

"Still, why'd you keep bringing her up? You jealous of her?"

"No, but... I've just noticed you're a bit... distracted around my sister."

"What, saying I'm hen-pecked?"

"Hen pecs?" Ruby asked, imagining a chicken with a buff chest.

"No, just of one mind about her. Like all men are." Weiss waved her hand. "Take an Atlas Specialist, a Mistral wizard, or a Vale Huntsman- you all end up wrapped around someone's finger."

"Sure," Qrow rolled his eyes, "I guess you've seen it all before, huh?"

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

The hike to the cave late at night was its own trial. Some Grimm and wildlife in Vacuo don't care for the heat, so they hunt at night. There's even a saying in Vacuo about soft men last longer on cool nights, though the context for the statement may vary between survival advice and inappropriate tavern jokes.

Passing through the cave, Qrow saw a woman in a familiar white cloak on the ground ahead. "Summer!" He ran up to her, kneeling next to the unmoving body. "No, it... It can't be..." At these words, 'Summer' faded away into the shadows. Qrow growled into the darkness. "Trying to make me run?" He chuckled. "Good. Means you're scared."

Once at the grave, Jaune was already there. He was kneeling before the makeshift headstone, a rock painted bright green with a Penny doll sitting above it. The huntsman wept as he mumbled apologies and pleas for Penny and Pyrrha to forgive him. Qrow looked around for any signs of Ruby or Weiss, but only saw Jaune.

Looking at Jaune, Qrow felt something in his chest. Pity? Some form of rapport? After Summer disappeared, Qrow was a lot like Jaune, kneeling in front of the grave of someone you can't help but feel like you played a part in killing. He didn't think he'd have something in common with this guy when they first met, but here they were now.

Footsteps ran up behind him. Qrow turned and saw Weiss and Ruby coming from within the cavern. Better late than never, he guessed. The three looked between each other and shared a nod.

"You girls got a plan?"

"Yup!" Ruby beamed.

"Kind of?" Weiss shrugged.

Neither answer filled him with confidence.

"Jaune!" Ruby ran out to him, distracting the boy enough to look her way. "Jaune, over here!"

"So, what's the plan?" Qrow asked. The answer surprised him.

"He's a lost cause. We have to kill him."

"What- But-"

"Trust me. It's for the best." Weiss answered.

So this was the plan, huh? Make Qrow feel guilty enough for the Zimora to cling to him? It didn't feel right, but Weiss did have a point. Even if it's the death of one, dozens if not hundreds of lives would be saved from attracting more Grimm. So Qrow level Harbinger, hoping this would be some kind of trick Weiss planned that wouldn't actually kill him, but it did... He'd understand.

"KILL HIM NOW!" Weiss screeched as she turned away.

"WHAT?!" Ruby stopped, looking back to Qrow. He squeezed the trigger and Ruby pushed Jaune out of the way, getting shot in his place.

"NO!" Qrow ran out, tripping over himself as he tried to reach out for his niece as she fell from the cliff. "No, no, no, no, no!" Qrow looked over the side, straining to see her in the darkness. "RUBY!"

"Ruby..." Jaune fell to his knees, looking down over the cliff. He dropped his light down the cliff, hoping to find her.

And there she laid, her blood soaking the sands of the Vacuo desert. Qrow began to feel hot tears pouring down his face, his hand futilely reaching for his red-caped protege. Suddenly, the world was deaf all around him as he could only feel pain in his chest. Pain... and guilt.

From behind the two huntsmen, emerging from the shadows, was the Zimora. It stood almost eight feet tall, its humanoid body covered in black all over, save for the white rings acting as tunnels through the monster's head. Its real eyes were the fiery red orbs dotting around the white, all while its long black horns and talons remained as pure dark as the rest of its body.

Plucking its dark digits from Jaune, it began to sink its claws into Qrow, hissing in delight of its new prey. The former victim looked to his side to ask Qrow why he shot his own niece, only to reel in horror at the beast gripping the veteran huntsman. He was about to scream when a gunshot sounded from the cave.

Everyone turned to the familiar sound, finding Ruby Rose, alive and well, standing next to Weiss Schnee and Emerald Sustrai. With a grin, Ruby and the rest of her team, along with Team JNPR, emerged from the cave, all armed and ready to fight. "Gotcha~!" Ruby giggled.

"What..." Then everything started to click. Qrow was completely tricked into thinking he killed his own niece. The guilt would have attracted the Zimora, relieving Jaune of his burden, and the reveal would free Qrow of any guilt he may have. He'd be proud if he wasn't so angry at being tricked. Not as angry, though, at the Grimm he was about to carve up, which writhed in agony as its power waned.

"ATTACK~!" Ruby called, as the Grimm was overwhelmed by the power of Team RWBY and JNPR combined.

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

"It's over." Qrow said, looking back to the grave as they left the cave for what he hoped would be the last time.

"Over?" Jaune repeated, carried by Yang and Ren.

"You're free, Jaune." Ruby added, giving a soft smile to her fellow team leader.

"Free?"

"The Zimora's dead, kid. Hopefully it'll be the last one." Jaune didn't say anything in response this time. He was just so tired. It wasn't until they got back to the house that Jaune spoke, left to stand on his own two feet.

"What... What happened..." He put a hand to his head. "My head is spinning..."

"Uncle Qrow, what's going on?" Ruby asked. "I thought we killed the Zumba?"

"Zimora." Weiss corrected. "And yes, I agree. Why is he still... drained?"

"It's fatigue." Qrow answered. "His body just needs time to get back to normal."

"What... What do I do now?"

"My advice?" Qrow offered. "Lay off the self-pity. Grimm or no Grimm, it doesn't do you any good."

"It..." He stumbled, catching himself before anyone else could, though they all tried. "I feel like I'm missing something from inside me."

"That's normal. Zimora's are parasite Grimm. Bonds between parasite and hosts can be strong, and their removal makes you feel empty." Jaune opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. "Give it a few days and you'll be fine."

"Th... Thank you... I think." Jaune stumbled his way to the stairs. "Good night." As he climbed the stairs, Oscar, Ren, and Nora helped him all the way up.

"I should stay with him." Ruby said. "He seems really out of it."

"Good idea, Squirt. Good night."

"G'night, Uncle Qrow. G'night, Weiss." Ruby left Qrow and Weiss alone at the door.

"Well, I can't do much worse here." Qrow shrugged, turning to leave. "G'night."

"Yes, I'm sure my sister is getting impatient with you by now." Weiss teased.

"I thought we already talked enough about that." Qrow groused, making Weiss giggle.

"We did." She nodded. "Good night, Qrow."

Qrow nodded. "So long."