#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.

[bananastarlo]

Warning: NSFW!

Thinking about yandere nerd who saw someone else talking to you. Now you're paying the price.

You see him in the hallway, quickly avoiding his gaze as he continues to stare at you from a distance with piercing eyes, making you blush.

But when a boy comes up and tries to talk to you, he gets bold, approaching you and wrapping his surprisingly strong arms around your waist.

“Back off, she’s mine,” is all he says, his voice sultry with possessiveness.

Then he takes your hand and storms off with you.

“Who are you thinking about right now, hm? Is it him?”

You don’t answer, the shame of the situation you’re in making you want to shrink back. But it feels so good. He feels so good.

“Answer me!” he demands, as he spanks your ass while you’re bent over his knee. The loss of pleasure as he stops pumping his thick, long fingers into your dripping pussy, paired with the sudden sting, leaves you heavy with arousal as you squirm in his lap.

“N-No, you’re all I think about, p-please,” you desperately mewl, attempting to rub your aching clit against his knee, causing enough friction to stimulate yourself as your thoughts begin to fade, chasing your own orgasm.

“Shit,” he groans. “You know, it’s really hard to stay mad at you when you look so cute and desperate on my legs, only for me.

But you need to learn that you belong to me now.”

Suddenly, he yanks your hair back with one hand, the other keeping you from squirming.

The sound you make as he whispers into your ear, telling you how fucking good you look, is enough to make him cum in his own pants.

“Aw, look at this, I made a mess and it’s your fault, baby. But you’ll help me, right? Help me, and I’ll make you feel so good I’ll forget you ever tried to talk to another man.”

Now you’re between his legs, looking up at his veiny, hard cock and the amount of cum leaking out of it. You pant as your own bare pussy starts to pulse and drip onto the floor at the sight of his dick. Your hands shakily wrap around his shaft, earning a needy groan from him.

You sigh in utter bliss at the thought of making him feel good, beginning to lap up his thick white cum like a good dog while gently stroking him, drawing the most angelic and sinful sounds from his throat.

“Y-Yes, that’s a good fucking girl,” he praises as his head falls back, face flushed, his fingers twitching as he grips the sheets. He slowly brings one hand to the back of your head, guiding your hot mouth, while biting the other to suppress his whimpers.

It doesn’t take long—he ejaculates again, and this time, shoots his load on your face, giving him a sight he thought he’d only ever see in heaven.

He needs a moment to regain his composure, huffing heavily.

“C’mere,” he croaks, fully pulling you into his arms, leaving no space to breathe. You oblige, excitement and a rush of heat filling you as your hearts pound against your ribcages, thinking about what he’ll do to you, already anticipating his hot, passionate touch.

“You can use me. You’ve been so good for me, you earned it,” he whispers, shifting his attention to your neck, sucking and biting your soft flesh.

You moan as your hips stutter against his, drawing the same sound from him.

You try to focus on your own satisfaction as you roll your hips against his knee and glide your aching slit along his big thigh, holding onto his neck to steady yourself. Your whines and puffs begin to increase as your mind blanks, and all you can feel are the intense waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

He watches you as you increase your pace, hitting that right spot over and over again.

“You’re doing so good,” he smirks.

As soon as you hear his words, your body reacts—your back arches as you release on him.

He takes you in his arms and cradles you, patting your head and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, making you drowsy until you eventually fall asleep in his embrace.

[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-".

[xichilie]

MAKE THE MYDEI x READER INTO A FULL FANFIC NOW BUDDY! what if u made mydei x reader X phainon …. heh

Ohhh I see where this is going, Phainons curiosity about Mydei's friend turning into adoration and maybe more 😉

Mydei x(fem) reader x Phainon

Mydei's secret friend (phainon taking a liking to reader)

Mydei had never been the type to let things get under his skin so easily. Annoyance, yes. Irritation, constantly. But this? This was something else. Ever since the Chrysos heirs found out about Y/N, there had been no peace.

It started with Phainon. Mydei should have expected it. The man was a relentless force of nature, a golden retriever in human form, always shoving his way into things with that damnable grin. Mydei could handle his usual antics, but this was different.

Phainon had taken an interest in Y/N. A keen, persistent interest.

“Mydei, you never told us she was so fun to be around!” Phainon had said just the other day, nudging him in the ribs with a knowing smirk.

“I didn’t tell you anything,” Mydei shot back, arms crossed as he watched Phainon and Y/N talk a short distance away. Y/N had laughed at something Phainon said, a sound Mydei was familiar with, but suddenly, it irked him in a way he couldn’t place.

And it didn’t stop there. Phainon kept showing up whenever Y/N was around. If she was out at the market, Phainon was there, carrying her bags, grinning ear to ear. If she was training, Phainon somehow found a way to join in. If she was simply walking through the city, there he was, chatting her up, acting far too familiar.

It gnawed at Mydei, deep and unrelenting. It was beyond irritation now. He felt something tight coil in his chest whenever he saw them together. It made no sense. He wasn’t possessive. Y/N was her own person. And yet, every time he saw Phainon getting closer to her, making her laugh, watching her smile at him, something in Mydei burned.

One evening, after yet another instance of Phainon keeping Y/N occupied with his relentless charm, Mydei had had enough. When she finally managed to break away and approached him, he let out an annoyed huff.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, voice laced with irritation.

Y/N raised a brow. “Are you upset?”

“No,” he snapped too quickly. “I just didn’t think you’d enjoy being around an idiot that much.”

Y/N smirked knowingly. “Phainon’s nice. He’s easy to talk to.”

“Talk to someone else,” he muttered under his breath, turning away before she could see the rare flash of something vulnerable in his eyes.

And as much as he wanted to ignore it, the feeling refused to go away.

It started small. Mydei didn’t even realize what he was doing at first. It was just... instinct. A need to assert his superiority over Phainon, though he would never admit it.

The first instance was at the training grounds. Y/N had stopped by to observe, completely unaware of the sudden shift in atmosphere. Mydei—normally one to fight with controlled, efficient movements—suddenly found himself putting extra effort into each strike, his golden armor gleaming in the sunlight.

Phainon, of course, caught on immediately.

“Oh? So we’re showing off today?” he grinned, rolling his shoulders before stepping forward. “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

What followed was an all-out display of strength, skill, and pure stubbornness. Mydei’s fists clashed against Phainon’s blade in a flurry of strikes, neither willing to back down. When Mydei created a crimson crystal barrier mid-fight to block an incoming attack, Phainon laughed and responded by amplifying his own blows with radiant energy.

Y/N clapped when the spar ended in a near-draw, completely unaware of the competitive tension. “That was impressive,” she admitted with a smile.

Mydei crossed his arms, smugly glancing at Phainon. “Of course it was.”

The next instance was in the marketplace. Y/N was carrying a bag filled with supplies, humming softly as she browsed. Before she could even ask for help, Mydei took it from her with an effortless scoff. “You shouldn’t carry heavy things,” he muttered.

Phainon, who had been watching, quickly grabbed another bag before Mydei could stop him. “You’re right, she shouldn’t. That’s why I’ll take the rest,” he said, grinning as he loaded up more bags onto his arms.

Y/N blinked between them before sighing with a small smile. “Oh, thanks! That was nice of you both.”

Neither of them acknowledged that comment.

Later, at a casual meal with Y/N, Mydei—who normally didn’t care for cooking—suddenly found himself making something for her. He placed a perfectly prepared dish in front of her and crossed his arms expectantly.

Phainon, not one to be outdone, immediately grabbed ingredients and threw together his own creation. “Try mine next!” he grinned, setting the plate down with a wink.

Y/N chuckled, unaware of their true intentions. “Wow, you both made something? That’s great! I love free food.”

Mydei scoffed. “No big deal.”

Phainon beamed. “Absolutely.”

Y/N happily ate, completely missing the pointed glances and competitive tension between the two. If they wanted to keep doing nice things for her, who was she to stop them?

Another moment happened while walking through the city. Y/N had been admiring a small trinket at a market stall, but before she could even decide if she wanted it, Mydei had already handed the merchant a coin. “Take it,” he said, handing it to her.

Phainon huffed and immediately bought another, holding it out. “Or you could take this one! It’s even better.”

Y/N, confused but amused, took them both with a laugh. “I didn’t even ask for these, but thank you!”

And then there was the time Y/N was struggling to reach a book on a high shelf at the library. Mydei casually plucked it down and handed it to her before Phainon could react. Not to be outdone, Phainon grabbed another book and said, “This one looks even more interesting, you should read it too!”

She simply smiled and accepted both, once again oblivious to their antics.

The rivalry continued in different ways—offering to train with her first, stepping ahead of each other to hold doors open, even subtly trying to one-up each other in casual conversations.

Y/N, blissfully unaware, simply enjoyed the attention, having no idea of the silent battle for her favor that raged around her.

[charlesslut16]

hey can I request a dark obsessive possessive crazy max verstappen with cute and innocent reader girlfriend smut pleasee!🥹

-to be mine forever is all you need-

summary : you and max go to an event to find investore but a man spekas to you so max must act...

PAIRINGS : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, NSFW; smut, dirty talk, p in v, oral (female receiving), sub/dom, fingering,possessive!boyfriend, rough sex, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : I hope that you like this my lovies! PLEASE REQUEST MORE SO I CAN WRITE MORE; I AM OUT OF IDEAS!!!

masterlist

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

''You're glowing tonight," Max murmured, his eyes tracing the outline of your neck as you stepped closer, the soft fabric of your dress brushing against his hand. His voice was low, a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through your very soul.

The event bustled around them, a sea of faces and voices, but all you heard was the thunderous beat of your heart and his words, a sweet caress in the chaos. You looked up at Max, your cheeks flushing a soft pink that matched the roses adorning your dress.

"Thank you," your replied shyly, your gaze drifting down to their interlocked fingers. The room was a whirlwind of lights and glamour, an elegant masquerade ball that was the talk of the town. Max's hand was warm and firm, a comforting presence in the midst of so much unfamiliarity.

Before you walked to the investors, Max turns you to him and kisses you lovingly. You were his angel, his light and everything for him. He loved you so much that he needed you to stay and to always be by his side.

As you mingled with the high-profile investors, discussing the intricate details of his racing team's latest venture, you couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement. This was Max's world, and you were the guest star for the night.

The surrounding conversations swirled like the champagne in your glasses, but you remained focused on Max, your eyes never straying from his intense gaze.

Then, a man with a charming smile and an air of sophistication approached you. He was dressed impeccably, his tuxedo tailored to perfection. He spoke with an accent that you couldn't quite place, and his words danced around you like a flirtatious waltz.

Max excused himself for a moment to take a call, leaving you with the mysterious guest. He began to tell you a story, one that had you giggling and leaning in closer, your eyes sparkling with delight. The man's story was of a young engineer who had designed a revolutionary new suspension system for racing cars.

You found yourself lost in his anecdotes, the sound of his laughter like a siren's call, drawing you deeper into his world of innovation and ambition. He spoke with passion and wit, and you couldn't help but be charmed by his intellect and charm.

As you listened, your hand rested lightly on his arm, your laughter echoing through the grand hall. But then, you felt it—a sudden chill in the air, a shift in the surrounding energy. Max was back, his eyes darker than you had ever seen them, his smile gone, replaced by a look of cold disapproval.

He didn't say a word, but the tension in his jaw and the tightness of his grip on his phone were clear indications of his displeasure. You looked up, your eyes wide with confusion, as he stepped between you and the man, claiming his space with the dominance of a lion reclaiming his pride.

"I believe she's had enough for one night," Max said, his tone clipped and final. The man's smile never wavered, but you could see the surprise in his eyes as he took a step back, bowing slightly.

"It was a pleasure, Mademoiselle," he said before melting into the crowd. You felt a hand on your elbow, guiding you away from the group. Max's touch was firm, almost painful, and you stumbled slightly in your heels as he led your through the throng of people.

Your heart raced as they stepped into a quiet room upstairs, his hand moving from your elbow to the small of your back, pressing you into the cool, velvety wall. The warmth of his body was a stark contrast, his breath hot against your cheek.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He didn't answer, instead his hand moved to the zipper at the back of your dress, tugging it down with a force that sent shivers down your spine. The fabric pooled around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your heels and a delicate lace thong. His eyes raked over you, his pupils dilated with desire.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a possessive rumble that sent a thrill through you.

You felt a mix of fear and exhilaration as his hands roamed over your bare skin, leaving a trail of heat in your wake. You trembled, unsure of what to do, but your body responded to his touch, your breasts peaking as his thumb brushed against your nipple. He stepped closer, his breathing harsh and ragged.

"Do you understand?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it held a demand that you couldn't ignore. You nodded, your eyes wide with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Max's hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue delved deep, tasting you, conquering you, leaving you gasping for breath.

"You're so naive," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

"So innocent. You have no idea what that man wanted from you." He stepped back, his gaze raking over your exposed flesh like a predator assessing his prey.

"But you're mine. Only mine." His words were a declaration, a promise, and a warning all rolled into one. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breathing shallow as you took in the fierce possessiveness in Max's eyes.

You felt a thrill of fear mingle with the excitement that had been building since the moment he'd led you away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Max stepped closer, his hand sliding down your side to rest on the curve of your hip. "You don't need to know. Just know that I'll always be here to protect you."

His thumb brushed against the sensitive flesh just above your underwear, sending a jolt of desire through you. You gasped, your body responding despite the tension in the air.

He leaned in, his breath hot on your neck. "But you have to understand," he continued, his voice a low growl, "that when I see you with someone else, all I can think about is claiming you, marking you as mine in every way possible." His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "Do you want that?"

Your voice was barely a whisper when you responded, "Yes." The single word was all the invitation he needed. Max's hand slid under the lace of your thong, his fingers finding their way to your wetness. He groaned, the sound a mix of relief and hunger.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He kissed you again, his tongue delving deep as his fingers explored you, teasing and stroking until you were trembling with need.

You could feel his arousal pressing against you, a solid promise of what was to come. Your hands found his shoulders, gripping tightly as you arched into his touch, silently begging for more. He gave it to you, his touch growing more insistent, his kisses more demanding.

The surrounding room faded away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of desire. Max's hand moved from your hip to your stomach, then up to your breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak.

You moaned into his mouth, the sensation too much to bear. He broke the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours as he pinched your nipple, a small bolt of pleasure-pain that made you gasp.

"You're so responsive," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. With a quick tug, Max's hand was back at your thong, pulling it aside. His finger slid inside you, and you gasped, your legs threatening to give out.

"You're so tight, so perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. You felt your core clench around his digit, desperate for more. He chuckled, the sound dark and possessive, before adding another finger, stretching you.

"So eager for me." He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he continued to play your body like a finely-tuned instrument. His thumb circled your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your.

"You're going to come for me now," he murmured, his voice a command you couldn't resist. And you did, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out.

Max stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he undid his bow tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his chest. He was a study in restrained power, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're so beautiful when you come," he said, his voice thick with need. He knelt before you, his hands sliding up your legs to push her thong aside. He kissed your inner thigh, the soft brush of his lips against your skin making you shiver.

"But I want more," he breathed. He stood up, his tall frame towering over yours, and picked you up effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck as he carried you to a nearby couch. He laid your down, his body pressing into yours, his weight a delicious pressure.

His kisses grew more urgent as he unbuckled his pants, his cock springing free, thick and hard. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of him teasing your slick folds.

"Tell me," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, "tell me that you're mine, that no one else can make you feel like this." Your eyes searched his, finding a fiery intensity that made your heart race.

"I'm yours," you gasped, "only yours, Max." The words were a heady incantation, and with them, you felt a surge of power, a rush of heat between your legs. He pushed into you, inch by inch, stretching you, filling you completely.

You moaned, the sensation overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that made your toes curl. His hips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt him everywhere, claiming you, marking you as his own.

"Again," he demanded, his voice low and urgent. "Tell me you belong to me, that you're mine." Your voice was a whimper as you repeated the words, your body responding to his command. His grip on your hips tightened, his movements growing more insistent.

You could feel his need, a living force that seemed to pulse in time with your own. "Yes, Max," you breathed, "I'm yours." His eyes flared, a wild hunger in their depths, and he began to move faster, his strokes deep and powerful.

Your nails dug into Max's back, your legs tightening around his waist as you met each thrust with an eager moan. His skin was slick with sweat, the scent of him mingling with your own arousal. You felt the beginnings of another climax building, your body coiling tight with tension.

"Come for me," he groaned, his voice a desperate plea. You could feel him swelling inside you his muscles taut with the effort of holding back. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let herself go, the wordless cry of pleasure ripping from your throat as your body convulsed around his.

Max followed you over the edge, his release a hot rush that filled you, his own roar of triumph echoing through the room. He pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness leaving you feeling both satisfied and craved. He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You're mine," he whispered again, his voice gentle now, the possessiveness tinged with a warm affection. You opened your eyes to find him smiling down at you, his eyes filled with love.

Max helped you to your feet, your legs wobbly and your dress still pooled around your ankles. He picked it up, holding it out so you could step back into it. The fabric slid over your skin like a lover's caress, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat of your passion.

He zipped you up with a tenderness that was surprising after his earlier ferocity. "Let's go back down," he said, his voice a low rumble, "You're going to stay by my side forever." You felt a thrill at his words, a mix of excitement and a hint of trepidation.

Max's possessiveness was like a drug, intoxicating and a bit frightening. But you knew you were safe with him, protected from the sharks that swam in his world. As you descended the stairs, you felt his hand on the small of your back, guiding you, keeping your close. When you re-entered the grand ballroom, the conversations and laughter washed over you like a wave.

Yet, the intimate moment you had shared upstairs seemed to create an invisible barrier around you. The world continued to spin, but it was just the two of you, locked in a dance of desire and belonging. You looked up at him, your eyes searching for reassurance, for the tenderness you knew was there beneath the stormy exterior.

"I love you," Max murmured, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

"I love you, too," you said, your voice small but filled with sincerity. The room seemed to hush around you, the music and the chatter of the masquerade ball fading into the background.

[gingernut1314]

Hello! I'm not sure if you're still open request but if it is. Can I have a request for medicine seller (2024) x fem! reader who's a shy artist? Like reader thought he looked pretty as she secretly draw him + having a crush on him.

Unreal Beauty

Content: female reader, gendered terms (daughter, woman), reader is an artist, reader basically stalks Kusuriuri till caught, mention of death, based off Mononoke 2024

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Oooo I like it, yesss! I hope you enjoy!!

↞ to Mononoke Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

The man before you wasn’t real. There was no way he was. That type of beauty--it just wasn’t real. It was a type of beauty that only poets and artists could possibly hope to create and you were determined to capture it. 

He had been mulling about your town for two days now, occasionally selling his wares out of that large, wooden crate he carried on his back.

A peddler. This stunning man was a peddler and that meant you wouldn’t have very long with him. 

Each day since you had first laid eyes on him, you had risen with the sun and rushed into market with your father. He was more than happy his only daughter was finally taking an interest in the family business, so he had no problem in taking you with him. 

You played along with your father's business only till your eyes caught sight of the man dressed in his flashy bright blue, navy blue, red, and yellow kimono. Then you were rushing to grab your sketch pad, pencils, and travel paints to create like a woman gone mad. 

No matter how sore your fingers grew. No matter the crick in your neck or the ache in your lower back as you knelt anywhere and everywhere just to keep your eyes on him. Just so you could capture the sharp angles of his face, the thin yet strong build of his body, the fluid motion of his hair, and that mischievous gleam in his pale yellow eyes. 

You felt possessed by his beauty. Possessed by the art you were filling page after page with.  

Today’s page was of a tender moment you had witnessed between him and a small child. You had been swift in sketching out how the peddler had knelt before the boy, listening to his plight. He had just exchanged the remedy for the small amount of coin the boy had been clutching in his hand when you turned your eyes away to grab for your brushes.

You looked back towards the street and--he was gone. Gone in the split second it had taken you to retrieve a brush. 

Your chest tightened at the realization of your loss. A loss you refused to let stay as such--not when the day had just begun. 

With a rushed breath, you started for your small travel bag when something so very soft tickled at your cheek--a blur of white and red filled your peripheral vision.

“How lovely.” A strangled sort of sound croaked in your throat at the suddenness of the silken voice in your ear. You snapped to your feet to face whoever had gotten so close to you only for the very air in your lungs to freeze. 

He looked like a god. Like some god forgotten by humans. One now cursed to wander the earth aimlessly for all eternity as a peddler. 

This close--you knew your art hadn’t captured that feeling. That god-like nature he oozed. 

“You are quite good.” He spoke in a voice of pure velvet. 

How could you ever possibly wish to capture such a tune? Your thoughts wondered despite yourself. 

“The perks of watching me so closely for so long, I would think.” You pulled your sketch pad tight against your chest. 

He had seen you watching him. Had known you had been watching him for days. Your fingers turned to steel around your sketch pad to keep from letting them shake. 

Those eyes of pure liquid gold took note of it. Took note of your quietness and protectiveness of the art in your hands and gifted you a sly smile. 

“A bashful little thing you are.” He purred, taking a step closer.

“Forgive me.” You breathed out, heart beginning to beat painfully against your ribs. “It was inappropriate of me to watch you--”

“No need for that.” He took yet another step closer. A closeness that, had your father been around, would have promptly chased him away. “I enjoyed it.” He confessed, that mischievous gleam you had tried to recreate on the page shining brightly at you. 

“You…don’t find it strange?” You managed to speak, though your voice came out hardly higher than a whisper. The peddler didn’t seem bothered by the volume. Seemed as if he could hear you just fine because he gave a small shake of his head. 

“I am honored to be such a talented artist’s muse.” Your body warmed and your mind raced at such words. 

He was honored? 

“May I see?” He asked, glancing towards the sketch pad you held onto like it was the only thing keeping your feet planted on the ground. 

You almost denied him. You never shared your art with anyone. You didn’t believe yourself good enough to showcase such a thing…but his eyes were just so--inviting.

“They are hardly as great as you say.” You muttered, shakily extending your work his way. 

“Perhaps greater?” You thought he was teasing you at first, but the way he said it--it sounded like he was truly thinking it over. 

“You falter me.” Fingertips brushed over your skin as he took the pad from you. Fingertips that were smooth and warm and electric. Fingers you wished to grab hold of and never let go of. Fingers you wanted to study up close as they felt over your palm. 

You pulled your hand away quickly as if burned, cradling them to your chest. The peddler made no comment on such action, merely beginning to leaf through each and every page you had scrawled over. 

You waited with jittery nerves as he scanned each artwork over slowly. Waited so long you thought your nerves were going to swarm in and suffocate you. 

“The eyes--you’ve managed to capture a lifelike spark within them.” He mused while flipping a page. Your heart might as well have exploded at such praise. 

“Oh--you think?” You asked, unable to keep your feet from pulling you closer to the peddler. Unable to stop yourself from pressing next to him to watch as he flipped through your work. “I thought they came out dulled.” He shook his head. 

“I think you’ve given them more life than they truly hold.” You glanced up at him and found he was already watching you. Watching you with eyes that had you thoroughly disagreeing with him about. “I have a proposition for you.” 

“Proposition?” You questioned, feeling the long sleeve of his kimono brush against your wrist as he turned yet another page, eyes having left yours and leaving you aching for them to return. 

“I am here on business.” 

“Business?” You parroted once more. What business did a medicine peddler have here in your small, out-of-the-way hometown besides selling his wares?

“Business…of a sort.” He sounded amused at his own statement. “I will allow you to follow me while I do it--keep creating such brilliant art--” Your breath caught in your throat at the thought of being allowed to follow him. At being allowed to create so openly and without judgment. “If you tell me all you know of the darkness residing in the well just at the edge of town.” 

You knew of that well he spoke of. Everyone in town knew of the well, though none would dare speak of it and all the misfortunes it contained so openly. 

Should you dare? Dare risk bringing its wrath down upon you and your household?

Those gold eyes found yours once more. Eyes your fingers itched painfully to capture over and over again. Eyes that looked at you in such a way none other had ever looked before. 

He saw you. Fully. 

“A young girl died there.” You started, a spark of utter delight flashing in his eyes as something gave a sharp click from within the crate he carried. 

“Did she now?” He purred, leaning in ever closer to you. So close your breath turned heavy in your lungs. “Please, do tell me more.”

[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.)